#Hunter would gladly trade his life for them

[tragedy-for-sale]

Bedrock Headcannons:

Sergeant Hunter

Bedrock headcannons are headcannons that I regard as a fact in the personality of a character I write about. They range from small details to a huge part of a character's backstory. These headcannons are a constant underlayer in all of my fics that involve these characters.

﹄『❝ Hunter ❞』﹃

The ability to sense electromagnetic frequencies meant enhancements to his nervous system. Hunter has 18 cranial nerves, instead of the usual 12. He has 40 spinal cord nerves, whereas every other clone has 31. More nerves meant more sensory abilities; to be able to sense electromagnetic frequencies started with sensors, electromagnetic plates on his heart, wires attached to his head and semi-permeable sensors on his eyes.

His tattoo was a test to see how well he could handle electromagnetic frequencies; the tattoo continues down the entire left side of his body.

He had to undergo constant stimulation to test how much he could sense. His nervous system was constantly shot. He was always being tested and there wasn't anything he could do to ensure he'd pass. So much of his childhood was spent in pain.

His childhood nickname was half-pint via Wrecker. Hunter was shorter than his brothers right from the start. Every now and then, Wrecker will call Hunter 'half-pint' and he stops in his tracks, he loved that nickname.

Hunter cried a lot as a kid. The pain was inside his body, inside his mind, medics couldn't help him. He didn't know how to deal with pain that no one else could feel. He'd sense something then everything. So, all he did was cry. He'd cry for hours, much to the dismay of his brothers. No amount of Wrecker's hugs or Tech's inventions could help him; he cried until he passed out, as he got older, he cried less and less, but his brothers still hear their brother's cries echoing in their mind.

All three of his brothers played and took turns sleeping with Lula as cadets. But never Hunter. However, as they've gotten older, whenever he's sleeping, Lula would magically end up in his arms.

Coruscant is the most dangerous place in the galaxy, according to his brothers. There are too many electromagnetic frequencies there. They've only been to Coruscant twice. Hunter spent most of that first mission with his head buried under his pillow. The boys had left on their mission, leaving Hunter behind, but Wrecker had come back, he'd forgotten extra explosives, but as he stepped inside The Marauder, he heard his brother crying, and that's when Wrecker knew they had to leave.

Hunter's affinity for his bandana is due to an injury he received as a child. He got into a fight with Crosshair and left a large gash on his forehead; Crosshair gifted Hunter his bandana to cover it, he's never taken it off since.

Hunter has a few rules that will only be enforced if he's annoyed, mainly not to touch his knives or his hair. But the one rule that is strictly enforced is not to bug him when he's showering. The time Hunter is in the shower, he's not to be disturbed. It's the only time he gets to himself and he's not going to do anything to shorten that time; If he calls one of his brothers through the refresher door, they fucked up and everyone on The Marauder knows it.

One time, the water heater broke, and Tech was racing to tell Hunter before he went into the refresher, but he'd already been in the shower for some time. All the brothers' hearts dropped when they heard the angry "Tech!" Coming from the refresher.

He doesn't drink a lot. The more drunk he gets, the harder it is for him to control what he tunes into, and he honestly doesn't feel like burdening his brothers with one of his electromagnetic breakdowns. It works out because then his brothers can drink as much as they want, he's always the designated brother. But since he doesn't drink at all in comparison to his brothers, his ass is very much a lightweight.

Omega looks like Tech when he was a cadet. When Hunter's angry at her, she's really upset, or perhaps he's half asleep, he'll call her 'Tech,' and a part of Omega breaks. She wishes she could be who Hunter wanted to see. But she is only ever herself.

He thinks himself good at being alone and tells himself he prefers isolation. He knows he's their leader, but he'll look back to Havoc, knowing his brothers are inside laughing and carrying on without him; He doesn't know them like they know each other. Truth told, he's always felt like an outsider, even with his own family. So, if anything did happen, he knows they'd only miss him, but they'd never actually need him.

﹄『❝ Hunter ❞』﹃

|| Tech || Wrecker || Crosshair || Echo || Omega ||

[maironsbigboobs]

For @dorcuartholweek

The Labour of My Love

(Gen, Beleg/Túrin, 1.1k, No Archive Warnings)

Túrin is taken to Angband, and Beleg makes a choice.

It's not the one he thinks he's making.

The ground here is rough and sharp and his feet are bloody. He has walked for so long. Since Amon Rûdh he has walked, on the trail of the Orc pack that held the dearest thing to him in all the world. But they are ever one step ahead of him, and he cannot catch them. In the forests of Dorthonion he lost track of them, but it does not matter. There is only place they would bring Túrin, dead or alive, and so now he has come to the gates of Angband themselves. 

He is alone. He has only Belthronding, Anglachel lost in the dark woods of Dorthonion, Dailir broken in two. Only death could possibly await him inside those walls. 

Death, and Túrin.

But Beleg cannot not turn back now, even as dread sinks further into his bones. As Lúthien had done so will he. He has no song and no magic, but his love for Túrin was as great as hers, and he will succeed.

Somewhere in the dark cells, he imagines his lover beaten and bloody. He imagines the cruel sting of torment at the hands of the horrors that lurk here. And his sweet Túrin is stubborn and proud. He will not hold his tongue for the sake of saving himself. Beleg despairs. 

Somehow, he reaches the dark throne room alive. Is it good luck, or simply that he has some other, pre-ordained, doom? He doesn’t think the difference matters anymore.

The doors are five times as tall as the ones that guard Menegroth’s throne room, but they open without a touch and without the slightest sound. The hall is so dark even Beleg’s sharp eyes cannot see. But he takes a step. Another and another, until out of the darkness a shape rises. 

“Thou hast reached us at last, hunter.”

His legs tremble. The voice is light with amusement, yet full of malice, the pure power in it threatened to overwhelm Beleg, as if Morgoth could command him to die with a single word. His doubts swim to the front of his mind: run, run now and live and leave Túrin to whatever awful fate awaits him.

No. No. He stands firm. It is better that he dies with a clear conscience. He turns his gaze up to see Morgoth’s face, but in the glittering glow of the remaining Silmarils, he can only see the void of his eyes. 

“Hast thou misplaced thy voice?”

“I have come for the life of one whom I love. Túrin, son of Húrin.”

Morgoth laughs; Beleg thinks he can hear more laughter, shriller, and he wonders what else - who else - lurks in the darkness. 

“Is that so?”

Beleg hears the challenge in the words: Morgoth thinks him a fool for coming here, for daring to make demands of a Vala. Beleg agrees with him. He is a fool, but he is a fool driven by love. This is the kind of quest that songs are made of - whether he succeeds or fails, his trying was testament to the strength of his love, and that was what would be remembered. He swallows the fear in his throat.

“I do not mean to deceive you - I am no enchantress like those who have come before me. I will make a trade.”

It is a fair trade he means to offer. A life for a life. The thought of his own death does not frighten him. He has lived many long ages. Túrin has so little time; Beleg will gladly trade his eternity so that Túrin might live to see his own years to their full height, whether they will number ten or fifty.

Morgoth is silent. There is the clanking of chains, a soft, pained groan and the grunt of someone lifting something heavy. The room explodes into red light, torches bursting to life at Morgoth’s desire.

“Túrin!” He wants to run to his side, but he is rooted to the spot. He does not know if it is fear or enchantment that holds him in place. But Turin is there, chained and unconscious. There is blood on his face. Beleg’s heart constricts. But he is alive. “Oh, Turin.”

All doubts cease. Beleg’s faith is renewed; as Lúthien has done, so will I. Though his heart is set, his mouth is still dry, tongue heavy as he reluctantly turns his gaze back to Morgoth. His words fight their way out.

“I have no jewel to offer; no dance or song to entertain or enchant you. But I will offer something else - myself, in his place. If it is a prisoner you want, surely one of the Firstborn is a sweeter prize than a mortal boy.”

Morgoth laughs again  and the sound freezes Beleg’s blood. He tries to not choke on it. 

“So quickly thou offer thyself. I might almost call you eager. Thou art no prize, Cúthalion, only a soldier playing at nobility.” Morgoth gloats. One hand, grey as ash, stretches out and curls a clawed finger under Túrin’s chin. Túrin groans, and a dribble of blood drips from his mouth. “But thou art amusing in thy arrogance. I will keep thee. Kneel.”

Relief floods him. He expected bartering, begging, pleading. He expected Morgoth to demand more, to ask for something terrible. He has hunted Túrin too long to give him up so easily.

But Beleg is not ungrateful. Perhaps Elbereth’s light shines on his luck.

So he kneels.

It is done. A deal is made and he cannot go back.

Morgoth raises his ashen hand, and chains drop from Túrin’s arms. The guard beside him lets him fall to the floor, and binds Beleg’s hands with the shackles instead. The metal is so cold. 

“Give him a kiss, elf. It will be your last.”

Beleg cannot stand with the weight of the chains, but he crawls instead, gathering Túrin’s body in his arms. He is pale, bloody, and when he opens his eyes, he looks up at Beleg without recognition. Elbereth, what have they done to him?

“Túrin…” He leans down and brushes a dark curl from Túrin’s face. Then, tender as the dawn, he brushed a kiss against his lips.

Túrin dissipates in his arms. Morgoth’s haunting laughter echoes through the hall, then more laughter; the hall opens up to reveal the host of Angband’s generals, watching in glee as Beleg stares at his empty arms, his heart sinking. He should have known: it was all too easy.

“Enjoy thy new home, Cúthalion. Let us hope thy lover is not as rash as thee.”

In the deep woods of Dorthonion, an escaped thrall guides a weeping man through the shadows.

[eolewyn1010]

Since we get a new episode today: Tatort München - Ghost Hunters ‎AU ?

Ghost Hunters AU for the married old men, five fun facts, go!

Ivo has been canonically teased to have some latent psychic senses, so we'll just make that A Thing for ghost-hunting - and something Franz is anything but happy with. Ivo regularly wakes him up in the middle of the night to tell him of some dream vision, he's got full-on trance fits that leave him physically shaken and exhausted; Franz would gladly trade the advantages of Ivo's Seeing against a healthy, psychologically undamaged partner. But this is Tatort München, so I'll have my angst and eat it, too.

The reason Franz and Ivo haven't yet been arrested for digging around in graveyards, stealing stuff from tombs and museums, breaking into houses and whatever else comes their way is because they are still tied to the police force - my darling Sven, Gabi, Luca Panini, Charlie, Julia, and (of course) Kalli, their main contact at the precinct. Granted, that means they can't be his work dads the same way they would be in canon, but Kalli being, like, a young Jim Gordon in the making makes for a nice dynamic and gives me the opportunity to pair him up with Carlo and his snark instead. Also on the plus side, Carlo is not the type to be a skeptic about ghosts, so he's the first among the police to just roll with the concept of needing a special unit for supernatural shenanigans.

I just realized that the other institution beside the police they might potentially run into conflict with over the ghost business is the church. Then I realized that there's no reason this shouldn't be compatible with my Basti-and-Thorsten-are-priests AU, and I'm here for it. So while Basti blithely blesses Holy Water for the boys / lets them borrow whatever sacred item they might currently need / gives them access to the graveyard / wHaTeVs I only work here, Thorsten ist just... so done with this. He's the same age as Franz and Ivo; he has been doing this for a while. "Don't you ever run out of ghosts??"

Franz and Ivo have a Christmas tradition of watching Ghostbusters together. That's it, that's the fun fact.

There's one [1] ghost they never managed to get rid off - a mutual ex-girlfriend of theirs (let's not specify whether they dated her consecutively or at the same time; people are gossiping enough about these weirdos as is). She's not malicious, she's just... stubborn. And upon failing to exorcise her from her house, an attempt she was majorly unimpressed with, the boys decided the best way to make sure she's not up to any mischief was to move in with her. Amazingly, it works. They just have a spooky housemate now, and an old-ass house to take care of. I currently don't have a name for this lady (she is inspired by Sylvia from Wilde Life, if anyone knows the comic...), but I'm tempted to go with Judith, the name of TO München's first trans character way back when.

And that's it. Honestly, this thought play is way fun; I might have to get back to that sometime to add more ideas.

[darkestxdreams]

Please welcome [DAISHIRO TAKAHASHI (HE/HIM)] to Huntsville, WV. They are an [45]-year-old [VISITOR] who lives in [TOWN]. You may see them around working as a [OWNER AT THE GRAPE ESCAPE]. Poor unfortunate soul. We’ll see if they survive.

Name: Daishiro Takahashi Face Claim: Ian Anthony Dale Age: 45 Height: 6′0″ Gender/Pronouns: Cis Male, He/Him Birthday: June 20 Orientation: Heterosexual Residence: Town Occupation: Owner of the Grape Escape / Former Crime Family Member Role: Hunter Title: The Black Sheep

Personality:

+ Focused, Inventive, Brave - Reserved, Hesitant, Guilt-Ridden

Backstory:

tw: self-defense killing Daishiro was born in San Francisco, into a family whose line was steeped in organized crime. While his father expected that both he and his younger brother would learn the family trade, it was always clear that the eldest son would one day take over the business. Yet Daishiro wanted nothing to do with organized crime. He would gladly have become a doctor, a lawyer, a firefighter…anything else. But it was expected of him, and he could not argue against his father. So he begrudingly began to learn the family trade, with his younger brother accepting his lead. But as time went on, he grew resentful of Daishiro's position as the favored son, and began to desire to run the organization himself. But his father would not hear of it, believing too strongly in tradition and asserting the eldest son would inherit everything. This made his brother even more bitter, and only more determined to find a way to gain what he wanted. Eventually he concocted a plan to kill one of their high-ranking lieutenants and blame the murder on Daishiro. When he had last found out about the plan, Daishiro confronted his brother, who quickly turned violent. During the ensuing fight, Daishiro managed to get his brother's gun away from him, but one thing led to another and sadly his brother ended up dead. This left Daishiro with no choice but to run away, now a marked man wanted by both his family and the law. He had no idea where to go, so he just headed east. He thought about heading up towards the east coast, but once he reached West Virginia, he ended up taking a fork in the road, which lead him into Huntsville. This was 2 years ago. Unlike most people, Daishiro has actually been glad for how cut off Huntsville is from the world, thinking that means his family will never find him. Though things in town are less than perfect, he had been focusing on making a new life for himself, taking up ownership of the local winery and finally living his life on his own terms for the very first time.

[drownindenial]

Normally, Dean would scoff at the idea of indulging in some cliche’ chick flick' moment, but there was no denying there was something different, something intriguing about her that he couldn’t quite wrap his finger around. Perhaps it was the mysterious glint in her captivating gaze. Whatever it was, Dean was genuinely surprised that no one else in the bar ( which was packed with the typical college douchebags ) had already made a move to speak with her. He’d take the win and consider himself lucky. And with a body like hers, hell, he’d gladly entertain the idea of listening to every word that left her lips, savoring each syllable. Green hues had practically devoured Artemisia ; noticing the way her lacy top clung to her frame, exposing a glimpse of her midriff.

The hunter found himself fixated on every word Artemisia spoke because it was pleasant to not engage in yet another conversation that revolved around the gory details of his work. For once, there was a refreshing lack of boasting about the latest nest of vampires he and his brother had taken down or the demon that was sent back to the depths of hell. Not that he didn’t take a certain grim satisfaction in it — his entire life had been dedicated to hunting down creatures. “Conventions and special events? Hell, maybe I should switch professions.” He mused, only half-joking, with a closed lip grin. The idea of trading in for something normal sounded absurd, that was more of his brother’s thing. Dean knew his path had been set — his entire existence had been shaped by a lifetime of training to hunt. He couldn’t even envision himself living a normal, nine-to-five life. “How do the events hold up?

His eyes gleamed with a mischievous spark as a small smirk played at the corner of his lips. He couldn’t resist the temptation to engage in a challenge, his competitive nature coming to light by her bold claim of being a heavyweight when it came to drinking. “Oh sweetheart, don’t tempt me.” He chuckled. A part of him was genuinely intrigued given he had never come across someone who could outdrink him. Leaning off of the bar, Dean sat down on the stool next to hers, his gaze locked onto her. “You’d probably kick my ass at just about every liquor game out there then — that’s actually quite impressive.” His tone laced with a hint of respect. Bringing the glass of whiskey up to his lips, he took a drink. “Is that so?” He murmured, his voice low. “I might…be able to provide you that.”

A part of him was tempted to dive further into the artifacts that Artemisia had come across. A lot of ancient artifacts had curses hidden within, but entertaining the idea of asking which ones held the darkest history or were the most bizarre might sound strange coming from him. The hunter had his fair share of encounters with malevolent spirits, one in particular being — a ghost that had attached itself to a painting, going on a murderous rampage upon its new unsuspecting owners. If that wasn’t a bitch and a half to deal with, he’d be lying. “Nothing like screwin’ over the greedy that wants what doesn’t belong to them. What’s your favorite item you’ve come across?”

Dean was almost surprised to hear that question, as it was the kind that would have caused him to cough on his drink if he had been in the middle of taking a sip and making an ass out of himself. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case. He wouldn’t be hitting on someone if he was in a relationship. “Nah, haven't come across the right person yet. Haven't really had the time either — work’s been kickin’ my ass lately.” And he wasn’t necessarily being dishonest. In his line of work, being in a relationship was simply not practical. It would be like opening pandora's box, putting that person in harm’s way and constantly being worried about their safety. The hunter wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing what a risk that was. Not to mention, he could meet his demise at any moment. It was a sealed fate so why bother living in all that bullshit? “I’m not — actually I think my ‘work’ partner is glad to get rid of me for a bit.” The words always felt strange when he referred to Sam as something other than his brother, but atlas, he had to keep up the charade.

[plaidbooks]

Cabin Life - The Beginning

A/N: You all need to blame both @storiesofsvu and @berniesilvas for this! I want woodsman!Sonny to be real so fucking bad, so that he can sweep me off my feet. Anyways, this covers the Cabin in the Woods square in @storiesofsvu fall bingo!

I don’t mention it in the story, but in my mind, this takes place before he’s in SVU, even before Homicide. I have him mid-late 20s.

Tags: none, just fluff

Words: 1330

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart  @beccabarba  @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @permanentlydizzy @ben-c-group-therapy  @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @alwaysachorusgirl  @glimmerglittergirl @joanofarkansass @caracalwithchips @berniesilvas​  @reading--mermaid  @averyhotchner  @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles​ @crowleysqueenofhell @dreamlover31

(gif by @dailypeterscanavino)

When Sonny was a kid, his parents would take him and his sisters to their vacation home; a homey cabin nestled in the New Hampshire woods. There were multiple cabins there, spread out over the land, close enough to be considered neighbors, but far enough for privacy. They had basic appliances—a fridge/freezer, a stove/oven, a sink, a bathtub, a shower, a toilet—but everything else was wooden. Dom Sr. eventually put a tv there, just in the master bedroom, so he could keep up with news and sports while they vacationed.

Sonny always loved the little community up there. Everyone was always so nice to him and his family. Which is why, after dealing with atrocities while on the force, he decided to retreat from city life. He hated being surrounded by monsters every day; sure not everyone in New York City was a creep or predator or murderer, but after seeing so much of the city’s underbelly, he was fed up.

He asked his parents if he could move to the New Hampshire house permanently. They would still be able to vacation there, of course—it was a massive, four-bedroom cabin—but he just needed to get away. He agreed to pay for everything, and he still had his cell phone so they could contact him if needed. It didn’t take much convincing for his parents to agree.

It was definitely an adjustment going from the heart of NYC to becoming a woodsman. Sonny grew his hair and beard out and bought plaid jackets—the things he saw woodsman do on tv when he was younger. The cabin needed work, especially clearing up the outside foliage, giving him some sense of purpose. And if he needed food, there were the local markets close by and a grocery store about an hour away.

The locals all remembered the scrawny little boy who spent his summers running around the woods with his sisters, and they all gladly took him under their wings. After Sonny hacked back the overgrowth, Mr. Piper taught him how to do controlled burn piles. Mr. and Mrs. Willis came over soon after, helping him measure out, then build an elevated garden. Mrs. Willis taught him how to make nutrient soil, while Mr. Willis gave him seeds, and taught him how to care for each and every vegetable.

When Sonny got the cabin, he inherited the small apple orchard, too. His pa taught him how to care for the trees while his ma taught him recipes for apple pie, cider, tarts, jams. He noticed how much he relied on bees to pollinate, and Ms. Walters, the local honey provider, taught him which wildflowers were 1) regional to them and 2) attracted bees. Sonny built another elevated garden, this time on his own, and filled it with wildflower seeds Ms. Walters gifted him with.

There was a creek nearby, and one day, Sonny found Mr. Adams fishing in it. Sonny proposed a deal; Mr. Adams gives Sonny an old rod that he wouldn’t miss, and Sonny would teach Mr. Adams the best way to clean and cook the fish. Mr. Adams agreed and gave him a sturdy rod. As Sonny went about cleaning and deboning the fish they had caught, he complimented Mr. Adams on his herb garden.

“Herb gardens aren’t the hardest thing to manage,” he said with a smile, and gifted Sonny with starters for every herb he could think of— “as payment for this phenomenal fish recipe!”

Third elevated garden up and running, Sonny fell into woodsman life easily. His muscles grew, though he was still thin; he was lean, though, not lanky anymore. Any questions he had, the locals had answers for. He grew his own food, fished his own fish, and bought (or traded) meat from the local hunters. Soon enough, the locals were calling him, asking for help with something or other. And Sonny loved all of it.

 *********************

During the weekly Autumn Farmer’s Market, Sonny rented a little booth. He had brought multiple apple pies, tarts, bottles of cider, apple chips, packages of herbs, tomatoes, cucumbers, squash, lettuce, and everything else he had in abundance…that would also fit on only two tables. When he first started harvesting, he would give most away, or trade for other goods, but he also needed to make money some way. So, the extras ended up here.

He was in the middle of chatting with Mr. and Mrs. Willis about how his gardens were coming along when he saw you. He froze halfway through a sentence, his jaw hanging open, prompting the Willis’s to turn. Mrs. Willis looked back at Sonny, a knowing smile on her face.

“She just moved back in with her parents; she had been living in New York City for a little bit, trying to make a life there, but, well, as she said herself, she’s not a city girl,” Mrs. Willis explained.

Before Sonny could respond—or tear his eyes from you—you glanced over at him. You smiled warmly, and his heart beat faster. When you started coming towards his little booth, he scrambled to clean himself up, brushing his hair back off his face, smoothing down his shirt, trying to wipe some dirt off the front. Mrs. Willis gave him a smile before looping her arm with her husband and pulling him away.

“Hello! I’m new here, but I must say, your booth is probably my favorite,” you said, still smiling at him.

It took him a moment for his brain to process your words. “O-oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“All of your food looks delicious. I mean, look at this squash! It’s bigger than my head!” you announced, giggling.

He had never heard anything more magical in his life. “Do you like pie? I can give you a slice,” he replied nervously.

“How much?” you asked. You loved both apples and pie, and his looked amazing.

He gave you a soft smile. “It’s on the house; a sweet treat for a pretty woman.”

You felt your face heat and you smiled shyly as he unwrapped a pie and cut into it. He cut off a generous piece, and you opened your mouth to complain about taking it for free, but he brushed you off, placing the piece on a plate and handing it to you. You took a bite, and you swear your taste buds were dancing; it was the most delicious thing you ever tasted before, the sweetness and the tartness balanced perfectly.

You chewed thoughtfully before swallowing it. “That is the best damn pie I’ve ever had. Ever. But please, share with me, Mr.…?”

“Call me Sonny, please. Sonny Carisi,” he replied, a goofy smile pulling across his lips.

You gave him your name, then offered him a bite. You both stood and chatted while exchanging bites of apple pie. He told you about his decision to leave the city and live a simpler life, surrounded by good people. And you told him about how you had always heard of the big city and decided to live there. But after a few months, you missed the woods too much, and you came back home.

“I feel a little silly living back at home in my adult life. I’m hoping to get my own cabin one day…maybe build it from the ground up,” you finished.

Sonny nodded in understanding. “Well, if you ever need anything, anything at all, you can always ask me. I’m not the most knowledgeable about cabin life quite yet, but I have the knowledge of who to call for advice.”

“Well, thank you, Sonny. Maybe I’ll take you up on that,” you replied, and he smiled. Then you leaned over the table of his goods and kissed his scruffy cheek before winking and walking back to your parent’s booth, giving him a little wave. The smile and look of absolute adoration in his eyes would be a fixed image in your mind for a while.

[fanfoolishness]

Translation (The Mandalorian)

(Din Djarin was a man of few words, but many languages.  Some might have thought the Child had no language at all.  Din Djarin and the Child grow to understand each other.  Fluff, feels, found family. Spoilers through the end of season 2, 2400 words.) 

***

Din Djarin was a man of few words, but he spoke many languages.

His earliest memories, half-forgotten, were soft whispers of his parents’ native tongue.  The Basic they spoke carried a sweet, slurred accent he could hear sometimes in dreams, fading as he grew older.  He had known the name and sounds of their language once, but years among the Children of the Watch had long erased them.

He learned other words to replace them, lost the accent of his youth and exchanged it for one of the Outer Rim.  He absorbed phrases and lessons in ancient Mando’a, wrote them in his mind in a way he could never forget, standing tall for lessons with the other foundlings.  They learned the words in hand and bone and soul, paired with the battle training of body and mind, and the words blazed within him.  They were a forge burning blue-white hot, transforming him slowly into a Mandalorian like his saviors.  He spoke those words on the day they granted him his helmet, and he gladly covered his face, the fire within roaring with a newfound pride.

As a young man he traversed the Rim, face always hidden, ears always open. New words were needed for the work he found.  He picked up enough Jawaese to trade with, though he bore little love for the scavengers; sometimes they were his only choice.  He spoke their language haltingly, enough to do what he needed, his mouth straining to shape itself in ways near impossible for a human.  If it was what the job needed, he’d do it.

His work brought him to worlds near and far, places where rule of law was an outright myth.  He took a great deal of work on Tatooine, and soon realized his marks, if still planetside, always fled to the desert.  

He was no fool.  He brought gifts in trade to the Sand People, meager things he could ill afford, but they sensed his respect, and they gave him words.  He learned their signs, hands practicing the movements at night by their fires.  He practiced until he understood the shape of the grammar, how the signs flowed one to the other, sentences constructed in the air before him.  He asked them for aid, and they told him of the trespassers on their land.

The Guild worked often with the Hutts and their empires, and he found himself bristling at droids taking liberties with his Basic for their Hutt masters.  Protocol droids weren’t the ones who’d devastated his world, of course, but they were soulless, empty things all the same.  He practiced his Huttese in seedy bars, in market squares, rarely with marks who behaved themselves for a chance to stay out of carbonite for a little while.  He spoke to the Hutts in their own language, and they learned, with time, to keep their droids back when dealing with the Mandalorian hunter.  

He picked up other snippets here and there, and understood more than he spoke in Twi’leki, Durese, Bocce.  Language was just another tool, another weapon that could be wielded in service of the Way.  He used it for little else.

Until he found the Child, and the words of the Creed flared deep in his bones.

***

The Child had no language, as far as he could tell.  He tried all of them he had, both spoken and signed, on the journey to Sorgan.  

“What’s your name?”

“Where do you come from?”

“Why did the Imps want you?”

“Who do you belong to?”

The Child just looked at him with interest, no matter which language he tried.  In desperation he even tried out curse words from a few he had no other point of reference for, feeling vaguely guilty for doing so, but it was the only other thing he could think to do.  The Child watched him curiously, small green hands folded politely in his lap as if waiting for Din to finish.  

He ended with a muttered “dank farrik,” and leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms.  The Child tilted his enormous ears and blinked slowly, looking at him deep in concentration.

“Eee,” he cooed happily, and Din sighed, awkwardly patting the Child on the top of his head.

“That’s okay, kid.  We’ll, uh, we’ll work on it.”

***

He watched the Child with the village children.  They chattered to him eagerly in Basic, calling for him to follow them, patiently laying out the rules in their little games.  A boy might lift the Child up in his arms, then pass him to a girl who would show him how to play with their game of counting sticks and stones.  For his part the Child laughed and played with them as if he’d been there all his life.

He wondered if the kid could understand Basic, but if his mouth just didn’t work the right way to speak it.  He’d never seen another of the kid’s kind, after all.  He practiced with him at nighttime, just little things here and there, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Come here, kid.”

“That’s called soup.  Sooooup.  Can you -- hey, don’t spill it --”

“Don’t touch that.”

“I said, don’t touch that.”

“C’mon, kid, get outta there --”

Well, if the kid understood Basic, he sure had a funny way of showing it.

***

Peli Motto was a good mechanic.  That wasn’t too surprising; spaceport towns usually had pretty good options.  Anyone who couldn’t wield a spanner was weeded out pretty quickly.  More surprising was the way she handled the kid.  

She sat in the landing zone on a shipping crate, the Child on her knee.  He seemed content as she bounced him slightly up and down, letting out cheery little noises periodically and waving his hands.

“How do you know how to do that?” Din asked, examining the Crest’s landing gear and checking the repair job.  Everything looked to be in order.  “He seems to like it.”

“Kids like bouncing,” she said matter-of-factly.  “Doesn’t matter what species  they are.  They like bouncing, food, feeling safe.  All the good stuff.”

He leaned against the landing gear, folding his arms across his chest.  “He… didn’t say anything while I was gone, did he?”

She shook her head.  “Nah.  I think this little one’s too young for language yet.  But I think he understands more than he lets on.”

Din’s mouth twitched in a smirk she couldn’t see.  “You and me both.  He’s stubborn, this one.”

She laughed.  “Reminds me of you.”

***

The Child was starting to become just ‘the child.’  He wasn’t sure when he stopped thinking of the kid so formally.  Maybe it was a side effect of the past several weeks together, leap to leap, world to world.  He was getting used to the little womp rat being there, messing with controls on the ship, getting into trouble, generally making a nuisance of himself.

Except for when he looked up at Din, his dark eyes open and trusting; except for when he fell asleep in the crook of Din’s arm instead of the blankets in his pram.  

He was kid now, mostly.  Sometimes buddy.  Sometimes pal.  The Child was starting to be reserved for when Din talked to other people.  In the Razor Crest, just the two of them, he was just the kid, and Din was just himself.

***

He cradled the kid against his chest as the wind whipped past them, the Rising Phoenix carrying them back to the Crest over the lava fields of Nevarro.  The kid’s little hands clung to his cuirass, but there was no need; Din held him more tightly, more securely, than anything he’d ever carried in his life.

A clan of two.  You are as its father.  

Dying sunlight glinted on the mudhorn signet, a reflection picked up through the slit in his helmet.  He swallowed, then tilted his chin in towards his chest, making sure the kid was okay in the wind.

A little face turned upwards to look at him, big eyes wide, his mouth dropped open in surprise.  Din chuckled a little, despite his aching head from the injury, despite the fate of the Tribe weighing upon him.  The kid liked the ride.  

“Don’t worry, buddy,” he said into the wind.  “I got you.”

***

The kid didn’t speak Basic.  But he spoke something, and Din began to know more and more of what that was.

There was a little tilt of his head and shift of his ears for curiosity.  A slight coo and wide-eyed expression for delight.  An intent narrowing of the eyes with ears held stiff and back towards the tiny shoulders, especially when he wanted to do something that Din very much did not want him to do.

He tugged Din’s leg for food or to be picked up or changed.  He stared at himself in the reflections of Din’s armor and sometimes reached out to touch the shadow faces in their smooth surfaces, looking up at Din in surprise when there was nothing there but beskar.  He waited until Din looked away to play with knobs and buttons on the control console, and Din got better at always keeping an eye on the kid with his helmet turned just slightly towards him, enough to use his peripheral vision.

He found himself speaking more and more to the kid.  Things he didn’t need to say, words that filled the little cockpit of the Razor Crest with a warmth the place had never known.  The words spilled out of him, and the kid soaked them up like sunshine.

“Good job back there.  You were very brave.”

“Come on now, you know better than to mess with that.  … see?  I knew you did.  Good.”

“Feeling hungry?  Let’s see… I’ve got frog legs, bantha milk -- oh, there’s a thing of soup I can warm up for you.  No, those cookies are for after dinner.  You wanna grow big and strong, don’t you, little guy?  Dinner first.  Cookies later.  If you behave yourself.”

“Time for bed, kid.  No fussing.  I can see how sleepy you are.  Come on, I’ll come to bed too.”

“Night.  Get some rest, okay?”

It wasn’t just words he used.  He found a dozen, a hundred reasons during the day to reach out and smooth the kid’s robe collar, or carefully touch the edge of one oversized ear.  He got used to the weight of the kid on his hip or nestled in one arm.  His gloved fingertips were gentle, brushing against the kid’s cheek to clean his little face, checking his hands and feet for dirt or scratches.  He rested a hand against the kid’s back for reassurance, brushed a hand over the curve of the back of his head to help the kid relax and fall asleep.  He got used to small clawed hands nestled in his own.  And sometimes the kid reached up to touch his helmet, little hand slipping under the brim, and Din let it stay.

***

Turned out there were other ways to talk.  The Jedi turned to him in the misty night, firelight golden on her face, telling him years of tragic history, a constant fear, a lingering anger… a name.  

Grogu.  

It was hard to wrap his mind around at first.  The name fit the kid in some ways -- short and kind of ugly, but in a way that turned itself around to be somehow endearing.  But hearing the name lanced him through the heart, cauterizing like a blaster bolt.  Grogu had a name, and had nearly lost it.  He didn’t want that for him.  Remembered, for an instant, how it had felt --

But you had the Way.  What does he have?

He tried to help the kid -- Grogu -- with his powers, tried to show the Jedi what he could do.  He needs training.  I have to make sure he gets it.  He held the little silver ball, proud as anything when Grogu summoned it to his small hand with a snap.  But the Jedi’s refusal to take him slapped him in the face.  

He took Grogu back to the Crest that night, deep in thought, boots leaving little mark upon the loamy forest floor.  Grogu watched his helmet with wide eyes.  For a moment he felt a pang of jealousy.  How many months had he been with the kid, and never found out half of what the Jedi told him in a moment’s conversation?  

“If I could have, I would have, kid,” he murmured.  “...you know that, right?”

Grogu’s hand came up to twist into the cloth of his cowl, brushing against his neck.  

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, and the relief he felt was indescribable.

***

There hadn’t been enough time.

One moment he was laughing in the cockpit, overwhelmed by the way Grogu looked up when Din said his name.  One moment he was whooping when the kid used his powers, eagerly telling him he’d done good.  One moment it was just the two of them, happy, hopeful, safe.  

And then the Jedi Seeing Stone lit up with a glow he didn’t understand, and Grogu slipped away from him.

He fought and Fett and Shand fought with him, and through it all he could only think, Grogu. Kid. I’ll protect you!

A messy, chaotic fight, blaster fire, a direct salvo.  The Crest vanishing under a blinding flash, dark figures launching into the sky with precious cargo at a speed the Rising Phoenix couldn’t hope to match.

He failed. 

Grogu was gone.

And he had no words at all.

***

Din Djarin was a man of few words, but many languages.

Some might have thought the Child had no language at all.

But on an Imperial cruiser, standing before strangers, Din held his son close.  He cradled him to say goodbye, and when the little hand brushed against the brim of his helmet, he lifted it without hesitation, despite the Creed written in bones and blood and beskar.  

Din trembled at the warmth, the softness, of that small hand brushing tenderly against his naked cheek.  And when he opened teary eyes to gaze upon Grogu’s face, he knew exactly what his child was trying to say.

[baepsaesbae]

Heal Me, Kill Me Ch.3

Pairing— Kim Taehyung x reader

Genre— Vampire! Tae x Vampire Hunter! y/n, ANGST, Smut +18, fluff

Warnings— Oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, being tied up, Dom!Taehyung, ass eating

Word Count— 6.6k

Summary— You’re one of the best vampire hunters in the world. That’s to be expected when your parents are the best of the best. Your life had solely revolved around ruthlessly killing vampires. You were essentially a cold blooded machine. However, things take a turn once you meet Kim Taehyung, your latest target.

“When will I see you next, dear?” Taehyung asked as he walked you back to your car.

“When would you wanna see me?” you replied.

“Honestly, I’d never want you to leave. I’d selfishly keep you all to myself,” Taehyung lightly pinned you against your car door. 

“Maybe one day you could,” you say, wrapping your arms around him.

Taehyung planted soft kisses on both of your cheeks. You pulled him in for a deep kiss right as he began to step away. One hand cupped his cheek while the other got lost in the tresses of his long dark hair. Taehyung reciprocated your neediness as he roughly grabbed your ass. 

“I still need to repay you for the other day,” he seductively whispered.

“I’ll remember that for the next time,” you winked, “Meet at the flower shop tomorrow?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Taehyung gave you a final goodbye kiss.

The drive back was awful. You were torn. Torn between duty and passion. It was your duty to kill Taehyung, but your newfound empathy kept you from doing so. Even when Taehyung was on the brink of death, you couldn’t commit to your plan. 

Telling yourself that you needed to know the truth behind your parents’ death was just an excuse. Of course you want to know the details of what happened, but that’s not what stopped you from killing Taehyung. 

You just...couldn’t. You didn’t want to. Maybe there could be a way to fake his death? It could create the perfect cover to run away together. Maybe he could live with you in secret. Well, he probably wouldn’t appreciate the fact that you kill his brethren for a living. 

You have a month before Yoongi contacts you again. He’d know something is up by then. You’ve never taken longer than a month on a mission. Thinking about all this gave you a headache. 

You decide to do the responsible thing. You’re going to enjoy the month you have with Taehyung and worry about all of your problems when you can no longer run from them. Aside from the moral dilemma of having to exterminate your boyfriend, you actually felt happy. It felt nice having someone by your side. 

You fantasized about seeing the world with Taehyung. You wanted him to teach you more about plants, cook for you, and maybe most importantly, love you. The concept of love had been completely foreign to you. However, being with Taehyung sparked something you’ve never quite felt before. Was it simply the mortifying ordeal of being truly known by someone else? Or was it the acceptance and appreciation for the real you? Maybe it was a combination of both.

You hopped into the shower before your thoughts became too philosophical. You set your phone’s speaker on full volume and sang along to your favorite songs. TWICE had the best songs to sing and dance to in the shower (dancing in the shower can be dangerous, but you like living life on the edge). 

Being emotionally exhausted allowed you to fall asleep quickly. You woke up the next day feeling refreshed after a much needed good night’s sleep. Pairing a black maxi dress with a knitted cardigan, you felt cute and comfy. 

Biking to the shop was a simplicity that you enjoyed. It was relaxing, the scenery was gorgeous, and the simple act of biking to work made you feel like a normal person. There was a new shipment of flowers that arrived, along with a fresh set of bouquet orders. 

‘To keep you busy while your target takes his time, thanks flower girl :)’ was scribbled on a note atop the orders.

You rolled your eyes, silently cursing Yoongi. Thank god Taehyung was coming today, you could put him to work. You began to fill up multiple vases with water and plant food, humming as you worked. 

“Good morning ___,” a deep voice sang out as soon as the door opened.

“Morning dear! You’re in a good mood today,” you spun around to greet him.

“Of course, because I get to see you! I see you’re prepping vases. Do we have more orders to fill?” he asked excitedly.

“Indeed we do! I’m glad you’re excited about it,” you handed him the stack of orders. 

You admire Taehyung’s sharp yet delicate features as he glossed through the orders. His mouth moved silently as he read the order descriptions to himself.

“Do you only take orders for funerals?” he asked when he finished.

“Huh?” you were taken by surprise.

“It just seems like all of the bouquet orders contain flowers that symbolize sympathy in some way. Lilies, carnations, and especially chrysanthemums. In most European cultures, chrysanthemums are only used for funerals,” he explained. 

“I have no idea what these bouquets are for. I, well I guess we, merely fulfill the orders,” you shift uncomfortably. 

Taehyung was remarkably sharp. You remembered that Yoongi said these flowers are for the families who have been victimized by vampires. 

“Ah, okay. I was just curious. Let’s get to work, love. Can you bring me pink carnations and lilies please?” he asked.

The day was filled with nonstop preparations. You tied decadent bows around the vases that were finished as Taehyung arranged the most beautiful bouquets you’ve ever seen. He shyly explained that he loved art in all forms, and bouquet making was its own special artform.

“I used to paint a lot as a hobby,” Taehyung admitted.

“Why’d you stop?” you asked.

“I had no more inspiration. No muse, I guess you could say,” he said sadly.

“Do you still have your paintings? I’d like to see them.”

“They’re hidden away somewhere in my house, but I’ll dig them back up for you. It might make me a little sad though. I miss painting.”

“Why don’t you pick it back up? It doesn’t matter if you have a muse or not, just paint whatever comes to mind,” you shrugged.

Taehyung looks at you, visibly amused, “What do you think I should paint?”

“A dick,” you deadpanned. 

“A what?” Taehyung was shocked.

“A penis,” you cracked a smile.

“___! You’re so vulgar,” Taehyung blushed.

“I’m just kidding! But just for the record, I think your dick is pretty enough to paint,” you smirked.

“You think so?” Taehyung’s voice lowered.

He reached over to cup your cheek before leaning in to give you a quick kiss. Feeling playful, you lightly bit his bottom lip as he pulls away. Taehyung’s eyes darkened as soon as you did that.

“Someone is feeling bold,” Taehyung tsked before pulling you into him.

Grabbing you by the ass, he hoists you up and sets you on the counter. He harshly kissed you as you wrapped your legs around his waist, begging him to get closer. Taehyung kissed up and down your neck, before harshly sucking on it. The sudden pain caused you to cry out and squirm, but Taehyung’s firm grip prevented your escape. Taehyung chuckled at your response.

“Don’t think you can get away with being cheeky with me, darling,” he cooed in your ear.

His hand slipped between your thighs, his cold fingers lightly inching closer to your core. 

“Taehyung…” your voice trailed off.

“Yes, darling? What do you need?” he teased.

“I need you to--”

The front door chimed, interrupting you. Taehyung dragged you off of the counter with inhuman speed, spinning you back to your spot with the bows. The quick force made you dizzy, but you were grateful for it. It would have been embarrassing for a customer to catch you in such a compromising position.

“Hello again dear,” a familiar voice called out to you. 

You turn to see elderly couple smiling at you from the front of the shop. The elderly woman was waving at you.

“Good morning! How are you two? Here for your roses again?” you politely welcomed them in.

Taehyung is smirking to himself as the conversation continued. You wanted to hit him for being so brazen. The elderly couple updated you on their bakery, saying that next time they’ll bring you fresh goods. You laughed and told them you would gladly trade flowers for their baked goods. 

“Who is that handsome boy over there? Is that your lover?” the elderly woman whispered to you. 

“Oh, I uh, I guess you could say that. That’s my boyfriend,” you blushed, suddenly becoming shy.

“Wow you hit the jackpot, girl,” the elderly man remarked, “That boy might very well be the most handsome young man I’ve ever seen in my life. Besides myself of course.”

The couple laughed and you couldn’t help but join in. Taehyung shyly looked over and respectfully bowed. You could tell he reverted back to his timid and stoic state. You had forgotten how standoffish he was around new people. 

The elderly couple happily left with their regular bouquet of roses. Taehyung’s tension melted away as soon as they left the store. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself, they seemed sweet,” Taehyung apologized.

“Don’t worry about it. They’re the only customers I’ve ever had here. I guess the shop makes its money from all of these orders,” you resumed tying bows.

Taehyung’s smirk crept back onto his face as he snuck a glance at you.

“What?” you asked with annoyance. 

“Nothing.”

“Taehyung.”

“That’s me.”

“What are you smirking at?” you asked.

“Maybe you should look in a mirror,” he suggested. 

Horrified, you whipped out your phone. At first, you didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. There was nothing weird on your face. But then you saw it. A huge hickey was showcased in the middle of your neck. It was impossibly dark and its sheer size had you in awe. At first you were impressed, but then the dismay set in when you realized that the elderly couple must have seen it. No matter how blind they were, there was no way they could miss that. 

“Taehyung, you asshole!” you scolded him.

“Did you not enjoy receiving that?” he questioned.

“I did, but I didn’t want to show it off to my only customers!” you cried out.

“I’m sure they had their fair share of fooling around when they were younger,” Taehyung teased as he took your hand and pulled you closer, “Should we resume where we left off?”

“Can you remind me where we were?” you nipped at his ear. 

“Certainly,” he growled, hoisting you back onto the counter.

Planting kisses across your jawline, his hands spread your legs apart. Again his fingers flitter a trail in your inner thigh. Your neediness caused you to roughly press your lips against his while weaving your fingers in his hair.

His fingers grazed your clothed pussy, causing you to shudder. He lightly teased you, slowly rubbing your clit in a circular motion. 

“Faster,” you begged.

Taehyung obliged, picking up his speed. He applied more pressure, bringing you closer to the edge. Pulling aside your panties, his long fingers ran between your folds. You threw your head back in pure bliss.

He slowly inserted a finger into you, relishing your moans as he got deeper. You were so wet that he easily added a second finger. He took his time entering your pussy.

“You’re so warm, darling. And so wet. Is this all for me?” he gazed into your eyes.

“Yes, Taehyung. Oh mm,” was all you could say before trailing off into a moan when his pace picked up.

His fingers curled to hit your g spot with each pump. It was getting too intense, and your breaths became quick and shallow. You were right on the edge when Taehyung removed his fingers entirely. Your pussy clenched around nothing, and you whined at the sudden emptiness.

“Can I taste you, dear?” Taehyung asked.

You quickly nodded, desperate to get to your high. If Taehyung reduced you to this much of a mess with just his fingers, you could only imagine what his mouth could do. 

Taehyung buried himself under your dress, draping the fabric around his head. At first you couldn’t help but giggle. It looked a little silly, like he was hiding under your dress. Your giggle was replaced by a gasp when his tongue made contact.

He began lightly licking stripes through your folds, flicking your clit with his tongue each time. His tongue took its time exploring your intimate area, flattening out in order to gain the most coverage. 

His attention was then focused solely on your clit. He circled it with his tongue before gently sucking on it. The new sensation made you cry out even louder, but your voice hitched when he plunged two fingers back into you. 

The knot in your abdomen returned as your grip on Tae’s hair tightened. His free hand kept your legs spread open as you began to thrash around when your climax got closer. Taehyung was now moving his fingers at an inhuman pace, and his tongue was getting rougher on your clit. 

You let out a final cry as you release all over Taehyung, the intensity hitting you like a truck. You’ve never had an orgasm like this before. You were panting hard to catch your breath while Taehyung appeared from under your dress.

His face was glistening with your juices. He shot you a smug smile before wiping his face with the back of his hand. He seductively licked your essence off of his own hand. If you weren’t so spent, you would have immediately jumped on his dick after seeing that. 

“Did I satisfy you, ___?” Taehyung questioned.

“I believe so,” you exhale, “The evidence is all over your face. Wait, I think it’s on your forehead?” 

“Probably. I’m pretty sure you squirted. The inside of your dress is a mess,” Taehyung shrugged.

You hopped off the counter and sure enough, there was a puddle on the counter. Your dress was also a wet mess. A random passerby would have thought you wet yourself. You were flustered by the thought.

“I made quite the mess, huh,” you sighed.

“That’s my fault. Should I never repeat that mistake?” Taehyung playfully jabbed.

“I never said that,” you replied defensively, “But now I have to clean that up.”

“Can I help?” he offered.

“You can help by finishing the rest of the orders. I can take a few days off when all the orders have been fulfilled,” you suggested.

“A few days? Would you be free to spend those days with me?”

“What else would I do?”

Taehyung got back to work quickly. You chuckled at his diligence. To your surprise, Taehyung managed to complete the orders by the end of the day. He loaded up the cart by himself and hauled it over to the post office in record time. No doubt the postal workers were in awe at his sheer strength when they saw him single handedly bring drag the full cart. 

“So, are you free tomorrow?” Taehyung asked shyly when he returned.

“I think my schedule just cleared up. Why do you ask?” you played along.

“Would you like to come over and have a day on the lake with me? I can fish while you nap alongside me,” he suggested.

“Lemme think about it,” you pretended to mull it over, “I guess you convinced me. I’ll come over around 10? Or is that too early?”

“It’s never too early for you, darling. The best fishing happens around dawn anyway,” Taehyung replied.

“You want me to come around dawn?” your eyes widened.

“That would probably be too early huh? We can do something else instead then. Wanna be lazy and watch Netflix?”

“I thought you didn’t like technology,” you teased.

“I don’t. But I enjoy lounging around with you. And you got me hooked on Marco Polo.”

“Hell yeah I did. Just wait till you see Peaky Blinders!” you beamed enthusiastically.

“Can’t wait. I’ll see you tomorrow then?” he asked as you both stood outside the shop.

“Yes sir. It’s a date,” you nodded.

You found yourself waking up early the next morning, the excitement of seeing Taehyung made you restless. Was his hold over you that powerful? Or perhaps it was something else that had him never leaving your mind? Those questions swam in the back of your head as you picked out your outfit for the day. 

With your laptop bag in tow, you hopped into your car. It was around 8am by now. It was by no means the crack of dawn, however it was early enough for you to lull back to sleep if Taehyung really wanted to go fishing.

The sun was blocked by a thick wall of dark clouds, which was the normal weather in this area for some reason. Even without the sun shining down on you, a faint warmth hugged your body as you approached Taehyung’s house (and no, it wasn’t humidity). This feeling was new, and you couldn’t quite place it. It was as if the sheer buzz from your romantic feelings kept your cheeks warm 24/7. 

The front door swung open immediately after your first knock.

“___! Good morning, my darling. You’re here early,” Taehyung greeted you.

“I woke up early and decided it wouldn’t hurt to show up a bit earlier. Do you still wanna go fishing?” you asked.

“We can certainly try, if you’d like. We can have fish for lunch if I catch anything,” Taehyung pondered.

“I can potentially try more of your cooking? In that case, I definitely want to try,” you piped up.

Taehyung nodded in agreement. He helped you put your stuff away before disappearing to gather fishing supplies. In his absence, you blankly stared at the table where you tried to poison him just a few days prior. Was it a mistake to change your mind? If it was wrong to let him live, why did it feel so right to be with him?

“I got everything! Did you want to fish too? I only have one rod, but we can share,” Taehyung called out, snapping you away from your thoughts. 

“I’m fine with sharing. I’ll take a nap if I get bored,” you smiled at him.

You carried the fishing rod to the lake alongside Taehyung, much to his chagrin. He argued that he was more than capable of carrying everything by himself, but you claimed that you would feel useless if you didn’t help him. He let you carry the lightest item as a compromise. 

 Taehyung easily guided the little boat to the middle of the river. The shores were barely visible in all directions. It would be incredibly easy for either of you to dispose of the other. His back was turned to you as he cast off his line. A simple flick of your wrist and Taehyung’s head would be lost in the lake. Your body tensed up at the thought.

“Isn’t this scene so serene?” Taehyung broke the silence.

Your gaze moved from his back to the calm waters. It was indeed beautiful. Fog rolled along the surface of the lake, making it even harder to see the shoreline. Normally this would be perceived as eerie, but it was oddly romantic to you. 

Your body relaxed as you rest your head against Taehyung’s firm back. This predicament you were in was silly. Maybe if you came clean to Yoongi he’d support you. Afterall, he wanted you to have a normal life. Being with Taehyung for the last few weeks has made you feel like that kind of life was possible. 

“It’s beautiful, Taehyung. Like you,” you responded, hugging him from behind. 

“You think I’m beautiful?” he was amused.

“Of course I do. But so would anyone who’s ever seen you.”

“Your opinion is the only one that matters to me, ___. Thank you. You are the most stunning creature I have ever laid my eyes upon,” Taehyung happily hummed. 

“You’re too sweet. I feel so at peace right now. I think I’m gonna fall asleep,” you yawned.

“Go ahead, darling. This may take awhile,” Taehyung chuckled. 

You succumb to slumber almost instantly. It was an enjoyable nap until your dreams turned odd. You were enveloped in darkness, shivering. You gasped for air but to no avail as you struggled to breathe. 

“I wish I didn’t have to do this,” you heard a faint voice say.

“Tae? Taehyung are you there?” you cried out.

You abruptly woke up with a gasp, your sudden movement rocked the tiny boat.

“___? Are you okay?” Taehyung turned around to comfort you.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I guess I had a bad dream,” you replied.

“What did you dream about?”

“I’m not sure. It was weird. I couldn’t see anything, but I was extremely cold. And there was this voice. It kind of sounded like yours but I can’t really remember,” you shivered.

“Well, you’re okay now, darling. I’ll make sure no one can ever hurt you,” Taehyung reassured you, “Good news, I managed to catch 3 fish! They’re a pretty good size.”

Taehyung triumphantly showed you his catches. He was right. The fish were pretty sizable. You couldn’t wait to eat whatever he cooks up with them. 

You tried to shake off the uneasiness from your dream. Luckily, Taehyung distracted you on the way back. He started humming a tune, which soon turned into a song.

“I still wonder, wonder, beautiful story,” Taehyung sang aloud.

  His voice was captivating. You’ve never heard a voice so angelic before. His song calmed your nerves almost instantly. 

“I didn’t know you could sing. What can’t you do?” you asked in awe as you entered his home. 

“I just dabble in it. I have many hobbies. Like painting, as I mentioned before,” Taehyung admitted.

“You say you like to paint, but as soon as we have a painting date, you’re gonna reveal that you’re the next Monet or some shit,” you shook your head.

“I’m happy you hold me in such high regard, darling. I’ll admit that I’m a better cook than I am an artist,” he chuckled as he began prepping the kitchen.

“Oooh I can’t wait! Do you need any help?” you asked.

“No, I think I can handle it on my own darling. You just relax and keep me company, okay?” he made eye contact with you.

You smiled and complied with his request. You never grew tired of conversing with him. Before you knew it, the dish was complete. The fish were filleted in the most ornate manner, with a skill level on par with Gordon Ramsay. The taste was even more exquisite than the appearance. You’ve never foodgasmed before, but this dish just did you in. Taehyung gave you a boxy smile when you praised his food. 

The remainder of the month was filled with days similar to this one. As promised, you helped Taehyung tend to his garden as he gave you advice on how to not be a plant killer. One day, you surprised him with a painting date. You brought over small canvases and paints, only to find out that Taehyung has his own studio set up in one of the many rooms in his humble abode. Nonetheless, he was delighted by the surprise (turns out he also really was the next Monet, his paintings were incredible). 

You also began to spend the night at his place. You made it a habit to bring an extra set of clothes to leave in your car just in case. Taehyung even got you your own toothbrush to leave at his place (how romantic). 

Tonight marked the two month anniversary of you two meeting each other. Taehyung wanted to commemorate this day instead of the day you guys actually started dating. You thought it was odd, but you didn’t argue against it. 

He surprised you with an extravagant bouquet that he arranged himself. Dressed up in a suit and treated you to dinner at the fanciest restaurant in town. You dressed up too, the clothing was reminiscent of how you dressed on previous missions. 

You honestly forgot that you were on a job. You were too busy living out the life of your dreams. A normal one with the bonus of being in love with a gorgeous man who happened to love you back. The thought that your month of peace was nearly over crept up on you while you were getting ready. You pushed the thought away immediately. You still had time to live out your fantasy, even if it was fleeting. 

Your red velvet dress dipped scandalously low on your chest, and it hugged your curves promiscuously. Taehyung’s jaw dropped and transformed into a smirk as soon as he picked you up. 

The meal at the restaurant was good, but you both knew that Taehyung could cook a better one. But it was nice to go out for a change. You could feel eyes on you during the entire evening, but you weren’t sure if people were staring at you or your date. After all, your date’s appearance rivaled that of the gods.

“Did you enjoy your meal, darling?” Taehyung asked as the waitress took away the plates. You noticed that she took every opportunity she could to interact with him, such as filling up his water every time he would take a sip. You were going to say something, but decided against it since you couldn’t really blame her. 

“I did! I’m stuffed,” you huffed.

“Not yet.”

“Hm?”

“You’re not stuffed yet,” Taehyung repeated himself, then continued to lower his voice, “You look ravishing tonight. You’re always stunning, but tonight I don’t think I can control myself.”

“Who said I want you to?” you teased, leaning over to further expose your cleavage.

“Where the fuck is the check? We need to go immediately,” Taehyung flagged down the waitress.

Taehyung sped all the way back to his mansion. Every bump in the road caused you to squeeze your legs together, increasing your horniness. You tried to get Taehyung to put his hand on your thigh, but he refused. He claimed that if he touched you now, he’d have to take you then and there.

You couldn’t wait to get to your destination. You and Taehyung shared some sexual encounters, but he insisted on taking things slow. He did not want you to feel pressured to have sex with him (even though you made it clear that you truly wanted it). However, tonight was different. Taehyung would finally have his way with you, just like you’ve been wanting since you laid eyes on him.

He carried you bridal style all the way up to his room. He roughly threw you onto the bed, causing you to giggle.

“Get your giggles out now, love. I promise you, you won’t be laughing for the rest of the night,” Taehyung growled with a tone you haven’t heard before. 

You pulled him into bed with you, your lips locking into a passionate kiss. Hands began to wander as the kiss deepened. As tongues delved into foreign mouths, articles of clothing were being stripped off. You tossed off Taehyung’s suit jacket and began to unbutton his shirt. Taehyung grew impatient and ripped your dress in half. You whined in protest since you actually liked that dress, to which Taehyung laughed and promised to get you another. 

Now both in your underwear, Taehyung stopped to gaze at your nearly naked body. Your matching black lingerie made you look sinful, and Taehyung was ready to indulge. Your hand lightly grasped his bulge before it was swatted away. 

“Nuh uh, babygirl. You obey me. You are only to do what you’re told. Understand?” Taehyung scolded as he tied your wrists together with a rope you didn’t realize he had nearby. 

“Yes sir,” you responded. His dominance made you wet before he even touched you there.

“Good girl. Flip over,” he demanded. 

You followed his order, rolling over to lay on your arms and knees. You propped your ass out for him, wiggling it around playfully. A harsh slap stung your bottom, causing you to yelp out in pain.

Taehyung pulled down your panties, running a finger through your slick folds. He teased your clit, rubbing it in circles agonizingly slowly. Before you could complain, he licked a long and flat stripe along your pussy. His tongue swirled and flicked at a euphoric pace that had you seeing stars. He inserted two fingers into your soaked pussy as his tongue traveled to your ass.

You gasped at the new sensation, you’ve never had your ass eaten before. You tingled in new places as his tongue explored the intimate region. His fingers curled in you as he pumped them into you. You felt your climax build up as your pussy began to clench.

“Cum for me, babygirl,” Taehyung ordered, increasing his pace. 

The control he had over your body was incredible. You had an intense orgasm as soon as he uttered those words. Your body shook under him as you released the knot that formed in your lower abdomen. 

Taehyung flipped you onto your back with ease. Your chest was heaving and you tried to catch your breath.

“I think you’re wet enough for me now,” Taehyung smiled as he finally tugged off his underwear. 

You eagerly spread your legs open for him, signaling that you were ready. Taehyung relished the sight. He rubbed his cock along the folds of your pussy, hitting your clit with every stroke. You were oversensitive from your orgasm, which made you cry out each time he played with your clit.

“Are you ready, baby?” Taehyung teased your entrance with his tip.

“Please fuck me already. I can’t take your teasing any longer,” you begged.

Taehyung happily obliged. He took his time entering you, enjoying your drawn out moans. He let out a low groan when he finally bottomed out. He filled you up perfectly. He lingered in that position for a little too long. You had the silly idea of being cheeky.

“I guess you could say that I’m stuffed now,” you smirked.

“You haven’t felt anything yet,” Taehyung scoffed as he finally began to move.

His thrusts were powerful, allowing his dick to hit you in all the right places each time. Your moans were getting louder with every second. Your tied hands reached between your thighs, but Taehyung harshly grabbed your wrists.

“Did I say you could touch yourself?” Taehyung admonished. 

As punishment, he pinned your tied up hands above your head as he began to pound into you mercilessly. You were lost in pure bliss when he did what you were trying to do earlier. He applied the perfect amount of pressure to your clit to make you go wild. Your body began to quiver again under him.

“Let’s finish together,” Taehyung panted. He was close. 

“Taehyung, I love you,” you made eye contact with him.

That sent him over the edge. The sincerity mixed with lust in your eyes was the final straw. He released his hot load into you as you also surrendered to your pleasure. 

“Now I would say that you’re stuffed,” Taehyung joked as he leaned over to kiss your forehead, “I love you too, ___. So much. More than you could ever fathom. In a way, you saved my life.”

“I did?” you were still out of it from your two intense orgasms.

“You did. But we can talk about that another day. I’ll get something to clean you up,” he chuckled. 

You were already asleep by the time he returned with a towel. He smiled to himself, wondering how you can go from sinfully seductive one second to downright adorable to the next. Taehyung happily cuddled up next to you and soon followed suit in slumber.

You had to return back to your house the next day. You stupidly forgot your laptop charger and Taehyung was whining because he wanted to watch Peaky Blinders. Taehyung dropped you off and waved cutely as you left the car. You promised that you’d watch the show with him the next day. 

The moment you stepped foot into your cottage you noticed something was off. The door gave way too easily, and the aura had changed. The once peaceful atmosphere of your safe haven had been replaced by an eerie stillness. It was akin to the silence before a major storm. 

You silently surveyed the immediate surroundings as you closed the door behind you. You knew you weren’t alone. Acting as if nothing was wrong, you casually walked to the bedroom. The intruder was watching you intently. 

You stretched nonchalantly, in hopes of luring the intruder out. It worked. A rustle of movement was heard behind you, allowing you to easily evade the attack. In a motion almost unseen to the human eye, you had your attacker pinned to the ground with a knife at their throat (it’s good practice to always keep a weapon on you in this profession). 

“I really thought I had you that time,” your attacker sighed.

“Jungkook? What the fuck are you doing here?” you angrily questioned, tilting his chin up with your blade. 

“I could ask the same thing,” he retorted, unfazed by the knife at his throat, “What the fuck have you been doing here for the past two months, ___?”

“I’m on a mission. Is that a problem?” you masked your alarm.

“It is if you refuse to kill your target. I’ve been tailing you for the past week. You’ve had so many chances to finish that thing off, yet here we are,” he replied smugly.

“Did Yoongi send you?”

“Who else?”

“Go back and tell him that I’m working on it.”

“You want me to lie?” Jungkook dramatically dropped his jaw.

That angered you, causing you to apply just enough pressure with the knife to break his skin. A line of blood trickled down the blade.

“Why did you choose to reveal yourself now?” you snarled.

“I got bored. Tracking you is boring. Watching you pretend to be in love with that thing is boring. I came to give you an ultimatum. Either you kill it, or I will. That thing killed your parents, ___. You have to remember that it’s a monster,” Jungook challenged you, “Guess little Miss Number One is finally slipping.”

“Fuck you. All those years of chasing after my ass finally getting to you? Second best isn’t such a bad thing.” you mocked.

“Fuck me? If you insist,” Jungkook winked, “You know, this position is kinda hot. You into knife play?”

“Shut up, Jungkook,” you say in disgust, finally releasing your hold on him.

You sit on the bed, watching Jungkook as he paced around your room. Processing his ultimatum had you in a trance. By now, you had no chance of killing Taehyung. You foolishly fell in love with him. 

However, you didn’t think Jungkook would be able to win in a fight against Taehyung. Jungkook is too brash, and Taehyung is too powerful despite his atypical behavior. Even if Taehyung killed Jungkook, that would only cause more problems. The VEC would be even more eager to exterminate him, and will probably send multiple teams in to do the job. Maybe you could convince Yoongi to call it off. Maybe, by some miracle, he would listen to you.

“___? ___? Yoohoo. If you’re gonna ignore me, you should at least stop staring at my dick,” Jungkook stood before you.

“Huh?” you were pulled out of your daze and looked up at him , “Oh. Don’t flatter yourself, Jungkook. I wouldn’t stare at your shrimp dick even if my life was on the line.”

“My Jungcock is the size of a jumbo shrimp, thanks for noticing,” Jungkook grinned.

“God, you’re so disgusting,” you rolled your eyes.

“And yet the vamp ladies can’t get enough of me. They’re willing to die for this dick,” Jungkook nodded.

“I don’t think they’re exactly willing, but sure. Do me a favor, go back to Yoongi and tell him that the job is done,” you say quietly.

“Oh? You’re gonna kill your lover boy?” Jungkook raised an eyebrow. 

“Duh. It’s my job. It’s just been hard to find an opening--”

“Bullshit. I told you, you’ve had numerous openings. You just refuse to take any of them for some reason. Don’t tell me that you’ve actually gotten attached to your target,” Jungkook said in disbelief.

You remained quiet, avoiding eye contact. There was no use in lying, Jungkook would see right through you.

“Holy shit, ___. You dumb bitch,” Jungkook laughed.

“I told you that I would handle it. Just go tell Yoongi that the job is done,” you pleaded.

“And get chewed out in your place? No thank you,” Jungkook sat beside you, “So, what happened?”

You tell him everything. Despite him being a dick, Jungkook was probably the closest thing you had to a friend. He was orphaned due to a vampire attack, so the VEC took him in. You’ve been rivals since you were kids. 

“Sounds like you might actually have real feelings for this thing,” Jungkook said after hearing you out.

“He’s not a thing, his name is Taehyung,” you admonished, “But yes, I think I actually am in love. I fucked up big time, Jungkook,” you exhaled in exasperation. 

“Feels bad man,” Jungkook shook his head, “Major F.”

“Ok thanks for your sympathy,” you huffed.

“You still have to kill him. You know that right?”

“I know. It’s just going to be really hard,” you fought back tears.

Jungkook watched you struggle to hold everything in. He pulled you in for a hug. You suddenly let it all out, crying into his chest. Everything came crashing down. You have to fulfill your mission. Even if you failed, the VEC would pursue Taehyung relentlessly. You owe it to him to give him a peaceful death. 

Your special poison. That’s how you’ll do it. Once he’s immobile, you’ll be able to behead him in one quick motion, making it virtually painless for him. But god, it’s gonna hurt like hell for you.

“Do it the next time you meet him. If you don’t, I’ll kill him myself,” Jungkook said after you finished crying. He said it in a tone that let you know that it’s not a threat, but rather a promise that he’ll back you up. 

You cried yourself to sleep that night. You tried to convince yourself that Taehyung was just a monster that charmed you to bend to his will. You tried to believe that he doesn’t actually love you. You tried to believe that everything was a lie. 

But you just couldn’t. 

You didn’t want to think about how tomorrow will be the last day you’d ever see him. It would be the last time he would ever hold you in his arms, the last time he’d gaze at you with his beautiful eyes, and the last time he would ever say that he loves you.

You drove to Taehyung’s house the next day, as promised. Taehyung waited for you in his usual spot on the fountain’s edge. His lips curled into a smile as soon as you drove in. God, you’d miss that smile.

He bounded over to you as you parked the car.

“Hello darling! Oh, are you alright?” Taehyung asked with a concerned look when he saw your puffy eyes, “Have you been crying?”

“I got emotional last night. It was stupid. Don’t worry about it,” you faked a smile. 

“It’s not stupid if you cried over it. What upset you?”

“The thought of losing you,” you answered honestly.

“Aw, that’s sweet. Don’t worry, my darling. You won’t be rid of me any time soon,” Taehyung pulls you into a tight embrace to reassure you.

“I hope not,” you quietly replied.

Published October 16, 2020. No editing, copying, translating, or reposting allowed. All Rights Reserved © 2020 Baepsaesbae.

[bluerose5]

The Ghost of Paradise (Exile AU)

Chapter 2: By the Minute

Rating: M

Word Count: 3,796

Tags: Mass Effect: Andromeda, Scott Ryder, Reyes Vidal, Reyder, Pre-Relationship, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Exile, Flirting, Secrets, Complicated Relationships, Eventual Romance, Rivalry, Engineer/Mechanic Scott Ryder, Jealousy

[Read it here as well on ao3.]

“Our agents say that you were speaking with Reyes Vidal at Kralla’s,” Nola said. She didn’t even give Scott a chance to breathe. The second he was through their gates —which were still a work in progress— Scott was ambushed. “Do I even want to know what you have planned?”

Scott grinned at her.

“Why must I always have something planned?” Scott asked. “Reyes is a good friend. For all you know, we could have been catching up over drinks.”

“‘Could have’ doesn’t mean that you were.”

“Fair enough.”

As she fell into step at his side, Nola led him around while they spoke, appraising their growing community with pride.

“Scott, as governor of Paradise, should I not be made aware of any transactions that might affect us?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Tell me what I need to know then. Nothing more, nothing less.”

As if he could refuse her insistent prodding. Every time he left, he always forgot how relentless she could be upon his return, but only when it pertained to matters that could have both predictable and unforeseen effects in their future.

In a way, Scott was grateful to have someone with that type of dedication on their side. They’re going to need it.

“I swear, it wasn’t anything particularly groundbreaking,” Scott promised. “I gave him some seeds from our latest project in exchange for a long-ranged scanner modification. That’s it.”

“Hmm… A decent enough trade.”

“Glad to have your approval.”

Of course, it was too much to hope that she would leave it at that.

“What is it for?” Nola asked.

Scott knew from experience not to lie to her face.

He sighed. “I’m going to scout out some of the Remnant ruins nearby. See if I can get a read on their bots, or a turret if I’m lucky.”

She cocked her head to the side and considered that for a moment, lips pursed.

“Promise to be careful then. I know you would gladly give your life to protect any of these people, but we don’t need you to throw it away because of pure recklessness,” she reminded him. “If it comes down to an altercation, we would rather have you here than some lousy turret schematics. Besides—” She shrugged. “You would probably be the only one who could make sense of them anyways. You and that stupidly genius brain of yours.”

Scott scoffed, suddenly uncomfortable as he shifted in place.

“Got it from my parents, or so they say.”

Ellen and Alec Ryder. The woman who literally gave her life to perfect biotic implants and the man who created a whole new type of AI. Quite the legacy to live up to.

Good thing Scott wasn’t living his life based on their achievements. Andromeda was a whole different playing field compared to the Milky Way. The work he was doing with Paradise was incredible in its own right. At least, he liked to think so.

If he could change at least one person’s life for the better in Andromeda, then he considered that a success.

Based on the feedback he was receiving from the residents, he was doing a damn good job, and that was enough for him.

But Nola had a point.

People relied on Scott now. As much as he was willing to dive headfirst into danger, he needed to refrain from doing so.

“I’ll be careful,” he promised her. “If things start to go south, I’ll ping you and Nakamoto.”

“Thank you,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief.

Scott hated to worry her so, but there was that one other matter.

“If it’s any consolation to you,” Scott said, trying for a lighter tone yet failing, “Reyes offered to accompany me on the trip.”

Nola stopped short, and Scott skidded to a halt. She narrowed her eyes at him with a sneer curling at her lip.

“No, that is not of any consolation to me. Scott Ryder, you know how he is.”

“Charming and witty?” Scott tried for his best smile, but Nola wasn’t buying into that bullshit, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Flighty and untrustworthy, especially once his back is against the wall.” Then, she amended her statement, taking on a slightly accusatory tone. “That’s assuming you didn’t pay any of his ridiculous service fees.”

“Puh-lease.” Scott chuckled. “If anyone should be spending their credits, Reyes should be the one paying me for my company. I’m a treasure not many can afford.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Nola snorted, “but at least you know your worth.”

“They say that time is money, after all. I’ll make sure to charge him by the minute while we’re together.”

“Please do, and make sure to get a picture of his face once you show him that bill.”

Scott was only happy to see her smile again.

“Will do,” he said.

“While you’re at it, drop a few hints here and there that Paradise might be looking to contract out some exclusive deals with top-rate smugglers. Leave out the ‘top-rate’ part, of course. Can’t have that going to the poor man's head.”

“His ego is already insufferable enough without the compliments,” Scott agreed, “but isn’t the whole point of secrecy for you and I not to draw attention to our connections here?”

“A woman can dream though, can’t she?” Nola sighed.

“So much for Reyes being ‘untrustworthy.’”

Nola didn’t even hesitate, brushing off his attempt to use her words against her.

“Skill is skill, and we don’t exactly have the people or resources to be picky right now. Everything is a commodity on Kadara, even integrity. If he betrays us, we’ll deal with him, simple as that.”

Right.

Still, it was laughable to think that the Charlatan would take on a contract with some of his direct competitors.

Although, that sounds like exactly the type of stunt that Reyes would pull. More than likely, he’d have an ulterior motive for doing so, but Scott could see it happening.

Did he support the idea, though? Definitely not. 

“I don’t know,” Scott muttered. “I couldn’t see Reyes limiting his business to one group, especially if we’re only starting to get our feet wet.”

“You would know how he operates better than I, but I suppose that attitude is understandable. Disappointing, but understandable.” Nola grumbled. “Well, if nothing else, tell him the least he could do is give you a discount.”

“Trust me, I’ve been working that angle for a while. No such luck.”

“Greedy bastard.”

As they finished up their routine patrol, they soon switched direction, heading towards Nakamoto's clinic to conclude their meeting. There, Paradise’s leaders convened. They reviewed the requests that their colonists posted on the message boards around the settlement. Together, they decided on what matters they could approve for certain and which ones would be placed on the docket for a community vote. After that, they moved on to logistics, including topics such as requisitions and inventory.

To draw the meeting to a close, Nola relayed their latest numbers for colonial development. Water production was steady. However, food stores would be struggling soon to keep up with the recent influx of residents, so security personnel and all of those who knew their way around a gun were strongly encouraged to increase hunting and foraging activities while out on patrols or while performing their daily tasks. A roster will be posted on the local message boards to look for volunteers who would like to fill a full-time hunter-gatherer role.

Hopefully, what few angaran scientists they had amongst their people would be able to process their first batch of nutrient paste after their next harvest. It wasn’t exactly the tastiest solution available, but it was a necessary one if they were to survive.

In terms of population, there was a rapid spike in enrollment when word spread that Paradise actually got shit done and held true to their promises, but they expected the effect to eventually plateau once people settled in. Angara enrollment was up at the moment, especially after Scott appointed Nola as governor, and they have even seen a few Initiative members join up, having made the journey all the way from the Nexus to be reunited with friends, family, and loved ones.

Scott asked that they spread word for people to be warm and welcoming. The request probably wasn’t necessary, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Their community would make no friends by tearing people apart, and they prided themselves on being close and tight-knit.

It was important that they not only claimed to be but that they acted like it as well, backing up their words with actions.

Security assignments were then posted. Patrols would have to be upped to make up for an increase that they were seeing with gang-related attacks. Once automated security measures were in place, they would revisit the matter in order to assess which sectors needed heightened security. Emergency drills would be held at the end of the week.

With all of their needs addressed, Nola called the meeting to a close.

Once the meeting was adjourned, Scott approached Nola and their Head of Security, requesting a full census to be done within a day's time. Scott needed names, numbers, faces. Each citizen’s profile needed to be updated within their database.

If Scott was going to make an effective defense matrix for the colony, then he would prefer to program an IFF system that only a select few could remotely activate. For the system to work as intended, all of the colonists' photo IDs and biometric profiles would need to be kept current and constantly updated in real-time.

Nola promised to see to it that Scott got what he needed, shooing him off.

Apparently, he was hovering, but Scott could take a hint. He could tell when he was no longer needed, and he knew that Nola worked best when he wasn’t constantly worrying after her like a mother hen.

Departing from the settlement, Scott cloaked himself the second he went beyond the boundaries of their walls.

He was almost halfway back to Port when he received a message from Reyes. Figuring that he was in the clear, Scott made sure that the coast was clear before deactivating his cloak.

Pulling up his omni-tool’s interface, Scott opened the message. Along with it, there was a set of coordinates, sent from Reyes’s location.

R: Think I’m ready to cash in on those shuttle repairs. Wouldn’t mind the company right about now.

Scott’s fingers hovered above the holographic keys, contemplating his next move before deciding to hell with it.

S: Miss me that much?

R: Am I that obvious?

He didn’t even give Scott a chance to reply before he sent another message.

R: If it’s still in question though, let me put it bluntly.

R: I want to see you.

Scott pursed his lips, cursing his stupid heart for racing in response.

S: Give me a few. I’ll be there.

R: I’ll be looking forward to it.

Before he could embarrass himself, Scott closed out his messages. He quickly made his way to Port, grabbing his bag of tools and gear before venturing back out into the badlands.

From there, Scott followed the coordinates to a cliff, overlooking a nearby valley. The sun was slowly but surely sinking down over the horizon, lightning up the sky in array of pinks and oranges and reds.

Reyes was already waiting for him by the time he arrived, the shuttle powered down for the moment.

However, the second Scott noticed that Reyes was facing away from him, he instantly slowed his walk to a crawl. He bent his knees into a slight crouch and shifted his weight with each step, toe to heel as he snuck his way up behind him.

“You look like you’re waiting for someone.”

Scott delighted in watching him him jump in shock, only to have a blade at his throat in the blink of an eye.

As soon as Reyes realized who it was, all the blood drained from his face.

“S–Scott!”

Hands raised in surrender, Scott raised an eyebrow at him incredulously.

“You know, I was kind of expecting a warmer welcome,” he admitted, careful of the firaan's sharp edge. Keema must have given it to him. “Have to say, though, would it be weird if I was a little turned on right now?”

Reyes scoffed.

Trailing the blade along the outline of his throat, Scott swallowed thickly when he eventually felt its pointed tip press underneath his chin. Reyes tilted it up, and Scott followed, lest he risk being cut.

Their eyes met, and Reyes smirked.

Bastard was toying with him.

Retracting his knife, Reyes sheathed the firaan while Scott tried to catch his breath. The goosebumps left behind in the dagger's wake soon receded, yet a warm heat lingered.

“Tsk.” Reyes huffed at him. “Ryder—”

Uh-oh, back to last name basis. From experience, that meant trouble.

“You know better than to sneak up on me!” Reyes scolded.

“I do,” Scott said, not even afraid to acknowledge it, “but I love getting a rise out of you.”

“What if I would have hurt you?”

“But you didn’t.”

Scowling, Reyes placed his hands on his hips. Shaking his head, he pinched at the bridge of his nose.

“Scott, what the hell am I going to do with you?” he asked, releasing his nose, half-fond and half-frustrated.

“I’m sure we could think of something.”

Reyes hummed in agreement, watching Scott approach the shuttle with his bag tossed over his shoulder. He dropped it to the ground, then immediately got to work.

Watching him closely, Reyes leaned against the side of his shuttle with a thoughtful look.

“Maybe I could take you on a date?”

While Reyes tried to sound confident, his attempt ultimately failed. Instead of forming the words into a bold offer, they fell flat, sounding more like an uncertain question.

Scott stopped what he was doing. He spared Reyes a brief glance, only to return his attention to the task at hand, hiding his flushed face.

“Wouldn’t Zia disapprove?” Scott asked, being rougher than necessary as he practically took apart the control panel.

Envy curled inside him, spreading like an infection through his bloodstream. There was a sharp squeeze around his heart as it was encased in the feeling.

Reyes called him out on it, way too perceptive for his own good.

“Ryder, are you jealous?” Reyes chuckled.

Scott glared, causing him to throw his hands up in surrender.

“Just asking.”

“And if I am?” Scott retorted.

“Then I’d have to put your mind at ease.”

“It’s really none of my busin—”

Reyes closed the distance between them. Reaching out, he cupped Scott’s cheek, brushing his thumb along his bottom lip. Weak as he was, Scott leaned into his touch for a split second. His eyes threatened to flutter closed, but he had to remain firm about this one matter, if nothing else.

As he started to pull away, Reyes said, “There is nothing going on between Zia and I.” Scott froze into place. “We went out for drinks a few times, nothing more.”

“You swear?” Scott asked, narrowing his eyes.

“I swear.” His voice grew heated, impassioned. “I might be a bad man when it comes to many things, but I wouldn’t ever lie about that to you.”

Scott considered that before replying, “Well, like I said—” He cleared his throat, eyes averted. “ It’s not really any of my business, so I don’t know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.”

He trailed off, uncertain why he was acting that way.

Reyes furrowed his brow.

“No need to be sorry. If you had crossed a line, then I would have said so.”

“Even then, you’re not mine. Your relationships are your own.”

“I could be.”

Scott regarded him skeptically.

“Could be what?”

“Yours,” Reyes answered instantly, staring intently at Scott. “Just say the word.”

If only they weren’t both keeping secrets from each other at the moment, then Scott might take him up on that.

Turns out, being with the Charlatan would be a huge conflict of interests. Who could’ve guessed?

Silence settled between them. It was as if the whole world was awaiting Scott’s answer with bated breath. Time itself seemed to stand still in anticipation.

“I—” He struggled to find the right words. “Give me time.”

That’s all he could ask.

Reyes’s hopeful expression fell, and that alone felt like a stab to the chest. Scott's breathing trembled a little, as if it was becoming difficult to continue drawing in one breath after another.

God, he didn’t want to hurt him, but neither of them could really afford to rush into things half-cocked.

Scott copied his earlier gesture, reaching out to cup Reyes’s cheek. The change was almost instantaneous, how the tension drained away, only for Reyes to melt into Scott’s touch. He leaned into his hand, starved for affection.

Scott swallowed thickly, unable to pull away, let alone take his eyes off of him for even a second.

“All I ask is that you give me time,” Scott repeated. “That’s not a ‘no.’ I just need to think a few things over, iron out a few details.”

Reyes listened, then agreed.

“Alright.” He pulled away with a small, private smile. “As if I could deny anyone such a reasonable request, especially you.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Returning his attention to the shuttle, Scott got back to work. After all, he didn’t want to neglect the poor bird, and it appeared that the shuttle was in desperate need of a little TLC.

His diagnostics only confirmed his suspicions.

When a couple of sparks resulted from his prodding, Scott chastised Reyes for mistreating their baby. Reyes grew defensive, both of them falling back to old habits as they bickered.

This was the type of work that Scott did on the Nexus after he got sidelined and shafted. Systems repairs, shuttle repairs, routine maintenance… That sorta thing.

It was how he met Reyes to begin with. Few pilots had the energy to hang around and talk shop with Scott while he worked, especially since a lot of them had only recently returned from failed colonization efforts. Understandably, most people didn’t want to entertain idle conversation after watching their friends die out in the field.

That was fine by Scott, but Reyes had always gone out of his way —even then— to make sure that Scott had anything and everything that he needed.

They might have taken his shuttle out on a few joyrides together, gotten in trouble for wasting fuel, but Scott wouldn’t trade that time they spent together for anything in the galaxy.

Even now, it felt natural to settle back into their old routine. While Scott worked, Reyes watched, and they talked about anything and everything.

Time passed, and Scott only got deeper into the repairs and modifications. Despite the setting sun, he still broke a sweat, a light sheen glistening upon his skin.

Eventually, he had to take off his shirt, leaving him in a plain tank top that quickly got dirty along with his hands.

Swiping at the perspiration beading at his hairline, Scott grunted as he came to a stopping point for now. He reached for his bag, but what he was seeking wasn’t there.

“Shit.”

Turning towards Reyes, Scott huffed at him.

The bastard wasn’t even trying to hide his staring. Face flushed, he was biting teasingly at his bottom lip, brown eyes dark as he watched Scott through a hooded gaze.

Getting to his feet, Scott crossed his arms over his chest.

“See something you like?”

“Definitely.”

“You’re shameless.” Scott shook his head in disbelief, tsking under his breath. “You’re just as bad as that one time when Gil Brodie asked for a ‘second opinion’ on some fix he made. Turns out, I ended up doing almost all of the work while he sat back and watched.”

“Smart man,” Reyes noted, giving Scott a thorough once-over. “This Gil must have great tastes.”

Scott snorted.

“Flattery will get you nowhere. If you really want to make me happy, then you would grab your water bottle for me.”

“Did you forget yours?” Reyes asked, slightly concerned. After all, being caught out in the badlands without water was just asking for dehydration or heat stroke.

Nevertheless, he got the bottle for him. Scott placed his hands over Reyes’s, shrugging with a flustered blush.

“Yeah,” Scott sighed. “I thought I had packed it! I don’t know where it could’ve wandered off to.”

“Perhaps you were in a bit of a rush to get here,” Reyes said, trailing off suggestively.

Scott figured that he would allow that.

“Perhaps,” he agreed, “but what else do I keep you around for, if not the water? You wouldn’t want the guy repairing your shuttle to get dehydrated, right?” Scott smirked. “I could get delirious, and it would be very unfortunate if I just so happened to forget to install an essential component.”

Reyes gasped dramatically, relinquishing the water to Scott, who was quick to take a swig.

“You always have to watch out for the pretty ones,” Reyes grumbled. “Always causing trouble, keeping secrets…”

There it was again. That sense of knowing , that sense that both of them were holding something back. It was left unsaid. Neither confronted the other about it, but they knew that the secrets were there.

Before the sudden lag in conversation could get too awkward, Scott took another swig of water and asked, “So, you think I’m pretty?”

Reyes chuckled, glad for the change of subject.

“Kian seems to think so,” he muttered. Leave it to him to avoid the question. “He keeps asking when you’re going to start working for him at Tartarus.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“As a dancer?” He had to make sure he was hearing right.

“Yep.”

“Could you imagine?” Scott scoffed. “Me, shaking my ass for money? A tempting offer. It would probably be more profitable than the odd jobs I take on here and there, but I think I’m fine where I’m at.”

“Damn,” Reyes sighed, “what a shame.”

Scott raised an eyebrow in his direction.

“You saying you would have come to watch me?”

“Not only that, but I would have paid to watch you,” Reyes said, “especially if I could have gotten a private show out of it.”

Scott tried to imagine it, grinning in spite of himself.

“What’s so funny?” Reyes wondered.

“Nothing, nothing,” Scott said, brushing off his concern. “That just made me remember a thought that I had earlier.”

“What about?”

“Oh, you know.” Scott gestured vaguely. “Just that I should start charging you a fee for when we spend time together.”

Reyes winked at him.

“It would be worth every credit.”

[acearchivist359]

Castiel Winchester

I couldn’t get the idea of Cas being asked what his last name was and not having an answer and Dean supplying that his last name is Winchester out of my head so I wrote it. This is entirely gratuitous and self serving but hey why not?

I also posted it on ao3 with a more dramatic title: human and home

     Dean and Cas were in the kitchen when Dean got the call. The radio was playing and Dean was making dinner. Though Castiel didn't enjoy food anymore since his grace returned, he loved watching the care with which Dean prepared it, even though he appeared to spend a lot of time distracted by his music. Sometimes Cas would eat the food anyway just to see the proud smile on Dean's face when he assured him that it was good, though Castiel was mostly guessing. The call was from another hunter, someone from one of Sam and Dean's old hunts, inviting them to a different old hunters funeral. Dean, of course, agreed. He felt obligated, having hunted with the deceased a few times back in the day, at least that's what he told Castiel. Besides, he was offered beer, burgers and pie. Castiel had quickly learned that was a surefire way to get Dean to agree to anything. Dean went back to cooking, telling Cas some old hunting stories since they were on his mind. Occasionally Dean would pause to sing along to a few lines of the song before picking back up where he left off. When Sam joined them in the kitchen, he echoed Dean's sentiment of obligation and agreed that they should go. The drive would take around 24 hours, but Dean had never protested an excuse to take his "baby" out for a long drive. Castiel sat with the boys through their dinner, accepting the food and beer Dean offered him without protest. They talked about who they thought would go to the funeral, and filled Cas in on more stories. Castiel wondered what he would do in the Winchester's absence, assuming the invitation extended to the brothers only.

  Cas had long since grown used to spending his time with Sam and Dean. He no longer felt the need to spend any time in heaven, especially with it being in disarray, and he hadn't for a long time. Any time Castiel was alone was usually off searching for some thing to stop yet another apocalypse or to help the Winchesters. It was strange for Castiel to be alone in the bunker. The Winchester's presence was a sentient thing. The sound of the boys bickering over lore books, or Dean’s laugh from the kitchen, or the music he played in his room, filled the halls of the old bunker with life. Castiel could feel their presence whenever he was there. The bunker felt hollow when the brothers were gone and all Castiel was left with were the old ghosts of the Men of Letters.

  The boy's went off to pack, knowing they'd be staying at least one night in a "crap motel" as Dean called it, and Castiel wandered off in to the library. He scanned through the shelves of books, looking for something to occupy himself with while the boys were gone. He debated picking up an angel book, often finding himself amused by pointing out the inaccuracies. He placed the book back down though when he realized that was only fun when Dean was there to laugh while writing in Castiel's revisions with his messy handwriting. Castiel decided on a book about wendigos, remembering a story Dean told him once where they worked a wendigo case. Castiel settled down at the table to read and wait for the Winchesters to return.

  “Dude what are you doing?” Dean asked, peeking his head in through the library door. Castiel had been mentally debating if he thought the wendigo book would last him the whole time the boys were gone or if he should choose another. Maybe he'd watch a show Dean recommended on the Netflix.

  “I’m going to read, Dean,” Cas said, opening his book, “I thought you were leaving.”

  “Yeah, we're waiting on you,” Dean said, “Let’s go.” He nodded towards the garage, smiling at Cas.

  “I wasn’t aware I was invited.” Castiel didn’t look up from his book.

  “Dude of course you're invited,” Dean chuckled, coming into the library “Me and Sammy aren’t gonna leave you here by yourself.” He walked over to stand in front of Castiel. “You can be my plus one.” Dean patted Cas’ arm, smiling at him. Castiel, disarmed by Dean's smile, barely noticed Dean taking the book from his hands until he was halfway to the library door.

  “Dean,” Cas sighed, “I was reading that.” He was already halfway out of his seat.

  “Read it in the car!” Dean called back to him from the hallway, laughing. Castiel sighed, exasperatedly, but followed Dean anyway.

  Castiel was glad for the invitation in the end. Sitting in the back seat, listening to the Winchester brothers bicker over the radio was much better than being in the bunker alone. Castiel knew in the back of his mind that his home had never been heaven or the bunker, his home was this. These two boys arguing and laughing, whether in their car or the bunker or some crap motel.

  Eventually Sam decided he wanted to sleep, so Castiel traded places with him to sit in the front with Dean. Cas watched Dean out of the corner of his eye while he sang along quietly along with his radio. Every so often Dean would make a comment about one of the songs to Cas, telling him about which band was playing, the songs Mary had loved or John had played often. Castiel listened intently to both Dean and the music, taking in all the details. He enjoyed hearing Dean’s stories, the way his face softened when he spoke of his early childhood. Dean was softer in the car at night than he'd been while cooking dinner. He'd pulled a sweater on over his flannel at some point while driving, he'd left it unzipped but pulled the sleeves down to his hands. Sometimes Dean would look over at Cas and smile softly at him in the glow of the streetlights. Castiel couldn't figure out exactly what that meant.

  Cas watched the relaxed way Dean drove in the early golden light of the sunrise. His elbow propped up on the window, the way his body angled slightly towards the inside of the car. He was resting his head on his left hand. He looked tired but content. Sam woke up when the sun had fully risen and their moment was over, but Castiel was quite at piece with listening to the boys bicker again. Every hour or so, Dean would send Cas an amused glance, raising his eyebrows, before he saying something to purposefully rile Sam up again. Castiel would shake his head at him, but it only made Dean more amused.

  When they finally arrived at the other hunters house, Dean parked the car and they walked up to the house. There were cars parked in various spots up and down the street, most of them old, some looking rather beat up. Clearly none of them were as well loved as Dean's. Castiel lingered behind Sam and Dean as the hunter opened the door. Castiel could clearly see he was a hunter, given he was wearing the lumberjack style clothes Castiel had come to understand was not just particular to Sam and Dean but all hunters. As Sam greeted the man, Dean glanced back at Cas and saw him standing there with his hands by his sides, looking out of place. Dean rolled his eyes and pulled Cas through the door with him.

  "Cas, this is Daniel.” Dean patted Daniel on the shoulder before turning to put his jacket down. “Me and Sam helped him out with a werewolf case… what was it? 6 years ago?”

  “Sounds about right?” Daniel said, shrugging. Dean, having put his coat down, did the winking finger gun thing he always did. Cas noticed he did that a lot.

  "This is Castiel, our resident angel," Dean gestured to Cas, "the real deal, you know, wings… harp." Castiel glared at Dean but returned Daniel's handshake when he stuck his hand out. Castiel had been around since the beginning of that gesture, but he never did understand what the purpose of it was, only that it was polite. 

  Sam and Dean, despite their preference for being around only people they considered family, seemed to be largely enjoying the gathering. Castiel hung behind, standing off against the wall behind where Dean was sitting. He felt entirely out of place among all these hunters, despite having been on a great number of hunts with the Winchester brothers over the years. He could tell countless hunting tales but that would never make him one of them. Dean, however, told lots of stories. Sometimes Sam chimed in to correct him when Dean was making himself seem cooler. Dean was laughing merrily and drinking his beer. Every so often he’d prompt Cas for his input on a story, which Castiel would gladly supply him with. Dean would chuckle at Cas' monotone comments and Cas would smile a little.

  At one point Dean made another comment about Cas having a harp, which made Cas sigh. “Dean,” he deadpanned, but that only made Dean laugh harder. Castiel sighed again and went off into the kitchen to get himself another beer. Dean's was nearly empty, so it only made sense to get another for him as well. It didn’t do much for him in the way of intoxication as it did for the hunters, but it helped him feel more like he fit in. In the kitchen, there was a woman Cas had yet to meet.

  “Hello,” Cas said, clearing his throat. He’d learning in his early days with the Winchesters that people didn’t like being startled when he appeared. The woman turned around to look at him and Cas waved awkwardly.

  “Hi,” the woman smiled, “Did you need another beer?” she asked, noticing the bottle in Cas’ hand.

  “Uh, yes,” Cas responded before adding, “Please. And one for my friend.”

  She handed Cas the two bottles, opening one which Cas assumed was meant for him, but made no move to exit the kitchen so Castiel stayed, leaning against the counter behind him. It was something he'd seen Dean do in the kitchen of the bunker. “You’re new here,” The woman commented, studying Cas with her arms crossed, "I've never seen you before."

  Cas nodded, awkwardly. He knew hunters tended to be wary of people that they didn’t know so he supplied, “I'm Castiel.” He took an awkward sip from his bottle, for something to do.

  “Sarah,” she returned, "Daniel’s wife." Sarah stuck her hand out to shake, like her husband did. Castiel returned the favour. "Did you know Aiden well?"

  Castiel assumed Aiden was the first name of the hunter who had died, Dean had referred to him as something else, so he shook his head, "No." This only made Sarah look at him oddly so he continued with, "My friends spoke of him very highly though. He seemed like an excellent hunter."

  “Sorry you said it was Castiel? Just the one name?” Cas nodded, "So do you just like the one name thing? Like Beyoncé?" Castiel didn't think she was insulting him, but he thought there was something off about the way she laughed. He realized belatedly that she must have assumed he was some sort of undercover monster.

  "I don't have one, you see-" Castiel started at the same time a voice chimed in with, “It’s Winchester.”

  Cas turned to see Dean standing behind him, he hadn't heard him come through the doorway. "Castiel Winchester." He pointed at Cas as he repeated the name. Castiel blinked at him in confusion. Dean walked over and leaned on the counter next to Cas. He looked at Cas and gestured to the unopened bottle in his hand, "That for me?" Castiel held the bottle out to him. Dean caught his eye and smiled, opening his beer. He clinked his bottle against the one in Castiel’s hand before taking a sip. Castiel smiled down at his bottle as Sarah looked back and forth between the two of them. Dean started to make small talk with her.

  There was something about the feeling of being included so naturally as part of Sam and Dean's family, that made Castiel feel very warm and content. He liked the proud way Dean had added his last name to Castiel's singular one. He had had one singular name for centuries, in all his time of being an angel he had only ever been Castiel. Then he had met Dean Winchester. When Dean nicknamed him Cas, it was the closest Castiel had ever come to being human. After all that time, the wars he'd fought and won for heaven, all his angelic triumphs, being called a Winchester by the righteous man was the highest honour Castiel had ever received. He very much enjoyed being Castiel Winchester. It made him feel human and home all at once.

  “C’mon Cas,” Dean chuckled softly, wrapping an arm around Castiel's shoulder and bringing him with him, “or I’m gonna convince everyone you really have a harp.”

  “Dean,” Cas sighed, but it didn't have any irritation to it. Dean laughed loudly as Castiel walked with him out of the kitchen, still smiling to himself.

[faelune-home]

FFXIV Write 2021 #1: Foster

(a/n: I’m looking forward to spending this year’s FFXIV Write fleshing out Fhara a lot more, especially since I feel like I’ve gotten her a bit more in line with how I want to write her lately ^-^ The individual events I wrote last year still apply to her character, but from here on, I’m gonna be a bit more attentive with the writing and tying it into her overall character and backstory and relations with other characters.

This first piece is a backstory piece, using the meanings “to care for” or “to raise a child that’s not their own” from Foster, relating to the people Fhara knew most in her time growing up in her village.

None of the seeker names used here have a clan marker at the start, partly to denote the closeness Fhara would have for them...and partly me as the author cheating so I don’t have to worry about what seeker clans live on Thavnair :’D Seeker folk are spread out enough that I could probably choose any one and it’d fit, but I’d rather wait till we go to Thavnair and see what kinds of folk might live there first.

Word count: 1172)

~~~

The fleeing remnants of her birth village were graciously taken in by a small seeker village in Thavnair, nestled in the rainforests. Originally only offering temporary aid until the Ilsabardian folk could regain their strength and recover from their ordeal, the two tribes quickly built a rapport together, and the arrangement grew into a permanent home for the dispersed keeper families.

It was the life she grew up in; primarily a hunter village with trading connections to other towns, and more distant connections with the larger city of Radz-at-Han further away. Many of the people Fhara knew there would come to be like family to her, especially when she had so little family as it was.

Fhara never knew her parents. Her aunt, Khona, became her caretaker in their absence.

Khona gave her niece love. She gave Fhara comfort and warmth, protection from the shadows that frightened the girl, and laughter to lighten her spirits through thunderstorms, and bandages and kisses to make Fhara’s scrapes and bruises ache no more. Khona gave her a nickname, cute and small much like the girl herself when she was young, one that Fhara carried with her throughout her life.

“Your mother would call you her little Fufu, even when you were only a scant few hours old.”

Her aunt gave her memories and tales of a mother Fhara would never know. Aching confessions that she was always so much like the woman, from her image to her mannerisms. Fhara’s desire to run around helping 5 people at the same time until she stumbled and got lost in the rush, or the way her ears flattened against her head when she was in trouble alongside a little guilty pout - “You remind me so much of your mother.” 

Fhara was never certain how she felt about those stories, having minimal connection to the woman in her aunt’s recollections. She let her aunt have those reminiscent moments, more for Khona’s own sake to remember a lost sister than Fhara’s desire to know of her mother. There were rarely any tales of her father, other than that her mother thought fondly of the man, a rare fifth son to his family - “She would call him her darling Sae.”

Then there was Leytai, the woman that acted as a wet nurse to Fhara when the keepers first arrived, providing for the newborn where her aunt couldn’t, having had her own child only a few scant weeks beforehand. Even into Fhara’s toddler and childhood years, Leytai was someone Fhara considered a mother figure other than her own aunt, always gladly taking the energetic child into her own home and caring for her whenever Khona was busy. 

Gifts of flower hair clips and cute dresses, and later her more practical training gear for hunting practices were common from the woman. Leytai was a mentor to Fhara, teaching her basic stitching skills and organisation habits, helping her to make her first quiver, and then later teaching her how to write alongside Leytai’s own son.

(Attempts at cooking lessons were put on hold after a fire almost broke out, an overenthusiastic Fhara terrified away after the ordeal.)

Khuba was the finest hunter in the village, an often not misplaced pride evident in his swagger and his smirk whenever he walked through the village. He had a tendency to tease any of the young ones that he taught, and Fhara in her eagerness to work hard and learn was often at his mercy. Yet beneath the playfulness was a serious yet kindly tutor. Familiar with the forests and their creatures, as his many smaller scars across his arms and knicks in his ears would attest, he would never leave the children he trained to hunt without his supervision. A good catch would get a reward from him. A good attempt would also get a reward. Perhaps he was getting soft in his older age, the other hunters would joke.

Fhara received bows with delicate carving along the wood, and fine leather boots always stained to match whatever armour she best favoured that season. Much of her skill and care for hunting came from the man, as well as the capability to safely navigate the humid forests. He was the closest thing she could consider to a father figure in her life.

The keeper elders kept to their own part of the village, yet they would always share tales and traditions from their years when asked, despite their feigned insistence that they would prefer solitude. Grouchy old cats that complained of the heat and the toughness of the local meat, that never quite took to the spices of the island cuisine. Yet there was always a softness behind their bite to all the children in the village that would ask of stories long gone. They weren’t quite like grandparents, but they were the closest thing Fhara could consider to such a thing.

The other children her age were harder for Fhara to relate to, both the keeper children that arrived alongside her as babes and the seekers that she came to grow up alongside. Fhara’s enthusiasm to aid around the village brought her cold shoulders and petulant glares from her peers. She didn’t have many friends.

Instead, whenever Fhara wasn’t preoccupied with her bow training or helping another villager with an errand, she would care for the younger children. Fhara felt like an older sister to the young ones, always surrounded in her free moments by the litter of young ones. She would try to pass on the same lessons she was taught in turn or keep them entertained. They would play hide and seek in the morning, then tag after lunch, until a frustrated adult would chastise them for getting under foot. So to wind down, they would gather in a corner and Fhara would regale them with stories. 

Tales of heroes and adventurers travelling the world over, aiding strangers with whatever ailed them. Noble knights, daring swashbucklers, and honourable mercenaries, any old fable or legend she had heard of or that she could dream up on her own, re-enacted for the children’s entertainment. Even when the night fell and the moon was high, the young children would beg for another story, beg their parents to let them stay for one more bell, so entranced were they by the stories. Eager to please them, she promised them more stories, stories of her own making someday.

Fhara was a full grown woman when she left to make good on that promise. No longer a child, yet shaped by the people that guided her in her life to that point. Her kindness, her prowess, her joy and playfulness, forged by her time growing up in the village.

The day she left the village for her own adventures, she was waved off by most everyone in the village. Those she would consider family, that raised her and cared for her. She was their child, their sister, their loved one. She would return someday, with more stories to regale.

[redrobinhoods]

illicit affairs | Chapter 3, Tokyo Smoke

AO3 Link | 4,500 words (approx) | Chapter 1, Chapter 2, /end

Chapter Summary: Riyo and Fox come to terms with the limits and definition of their relationship

Riyo woke up first.

It took her a moment to remember where the weight on her torso was coming from. She hadn’t slept with another being in her bed in many years, but the last thing she remembered from last night was closing her eyes and focusing on the steady heartbeat of the man holding her. Now she found herself laying on her side with a warm body before her. She didn’t dare shift her position for fear of waking him up, but dropped her head to her chest to look down at her torso. Fox’s arms still crossed around her waist, but his forehead now lay against her chest. She took a few moments to take in the sight.

She’d dated before, back on Pantora, but dating on Pantora and dating on Coruscant were entirely different beasts. She’d been afraid that on Coruscant others would only see her for her position, and so far she’d been right in her assumptions. But Fox was different. He had seen her as a person first and a politician second, and perhaps the latter only because of the bounds of his command. She’d been worried that she may have taken advantage of him in the hospital and in her room when she’d pulled him down into her arms. But now, with his arms still wrapped around her waist in sleep, she felt at ease. She’d never considered dating one of the clones before, certainly not one belonging to the Coruscant Guard. They were supposed to be loyal only to the Republic. Then again, so was she, in a way. Loyalty to the Republic and to her people were supposed to come before all else in her life. That was the vow she had made. But this, this felt right.

She brought one hand over and lay it across his neck, feeling the raised scar tissue underneath her touch. She found herself running her fingers over one in particular, large and ragged. It had to have nearly claimed his life. She could imagine Fox lying prone on the ground as one of the other guardsmen tried to stem the flow of blood from the commander’s neck. The image scared her. She’d known that the Coruscant Guard were all flesh and blood underneath their armor, but knowing that was different than holding it in your hands.

“Some petty thief.” He muttered sleepily. “Didn’t expect them to lunge towards me.”

“Did it hurt?” She continued running her fingers over it, trying to picture the scene in her head.

“For a moment, before shock set in. I lost a lot of blood.” He said it so casually that it hurt her.

“When you saved my life, did that hurt?” The thought had been bouncing around in her head ever seen she’d glanced back at his body in the museum.

He brought one arm up so that he could lay a hand on her hips. He began tracing slow circles in the satin. “Like hell. I almost wish it had been worse so I could’ve passed out.” He looked up to see the despair on her face. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat, for you.”

“I don’t want you to be in pain because of me, Fox.” She moved her hand up from his neck and cupped his jaw, running her thumb over his cheekbones.

“It’s what I was made for, Riyo. We clones were born to die for the Republic. I’ve always been fine with that. Or I was, until last night.”

“And what happened last night?” She prodded. He pushed himself up so that his head lay on the pillow next to hers.

“Well, you see-.”

“Fox, Fox come in!” His commlink beeped from across the room. Fox sighed and pressed his forehead against Riyo’s.

“I think you should answer that.” She said, closing her eyes and leaning back against him.

“Fox, this is urgent. I know you can hear me. If you don’t answer in the next ten seconds I’m sending someone in there, Fox.”

Fox sighed again, then untangled himself from the blankets as he rose, leaving her feeling cold in his absence. “What is it, Thire?”

“Got our bounty hunter to crack. Bounty was placed by Lor Hano, a Trade Federation officer. The same one we had flagged as a potential Separatist sympathizer. He has a home on Coruscant and it’s my understanding that he’s still in town. I’m sending you the address and a squad. I suggest the boys bring the senator back to the office so they can swap shifts. Stone can keep an eye on her in the meantime.”

“Copy that, Thire.” He turned off the comm and turned back to Riyo, who was watching him from under the blankets. “Riyo, I’m sorry.”

“I understand.” She smiled up at him. “But we’re finishing this conversation later.”

“Gladly.” He took a moment to push his hair back from his face before starting to assemble his armor over his body. She sat up as she watched him pull it on, putting the pieces together with ease and familiarity; his fingers barely touching the plastoid except to press the seams together. Her eyes followed the flex of his body under the blacks, she couldn’t believe that she had been pressed against that same body just moments ago. She felt a sadness rising in her chest as he prepared to leave her.

“Fox, don’t die for me.” She begged once he had finished the rapid assembly.

He checked over his armor fitting one last time before walking over to her bed and sitting down beside her. He took her face in his hands and pressed a dry kiss to her forehead. Drawing back, he took a moment to look over her body before returning his gaze to her eyes. “I won’t lie to you and tell you that I’ll be fine, but I want you to know that if I had the choice of who I will die for, I would choose you.”

She looked at him in astonishment as she realized that this is how it would always be for them, if there ever was a them. She’d have to watch him leave every day, not knowing if he would come back to her alive. But yet, she couldn’t ask him to not go. She wondered how he felt to leave her.

“Fox, I think that I lo-.” He placed a finger over his lips before she could finish.

“Don’t say that now, wait until I get back and you have a clear head.” She pushed his hand away, holding it tight in hers.

“I have a clear head now, Fox. I’ve had a clear head for the past four days.” He shook his head, the look in his eyes begging her to stop. She didn’t. “At the museum, in the Natural Formations room when you were talking about forests and fresh air and then you almost died but you’ve barely lived and I want you to experience life. I don’t know how to put that feeling into other words than ‘I love you’. I know that it’s selfish of me to say this now, and you don’t have to love me back, but I really, really want to fall in love with you, Fox.”

He closed his eyes as a shudder ran down his body. A look of pain ran across his features and Riyo suddenly felt horrible for the timing of her confession. Fox had been right, it was torture to say this now rather than later, when she had him in her arms, safe.

“This is Lieutenant Bravo, Commander Fox we’re ready for you.”

Fox looked down to the commlink on his glove, then back at Riyo’s face. He gently withdrew his hand from hers and ran it over her collarbones, smoothing back her unbrushed hair. “I think that I would like to fall in love with you as well, Riyo.”

Before she could react, he was sweeping out of her room and she heard the front door close behind him. She was alone.

---

Riyo felt hollow as she walked through the Senate halls with her escort. It was late morning and many of the senators were already sealed away inside their offices, making the building feel as empty as she did. Her escort left her at the Guard office doors, waiting to make sure that she entered before they retired to the barracks. Commander Stone met her in the main office space, looking far more awake than she did.

"Senator Chuchi.”

“Commander Stone. A pleasure to see you again.” She smiled at the commander then looked around the office. It was quiet at the moment, many of those in the room were sleeping at their desks. Stone didn’t seem to mind, and she assumed that they must’ve been up all night.

“The pleasure is all mine. I am glad to see you under these circumstances, and I know that we will all be relieved when you are no longer under threat. Come, I’ve taken over monitoring the comms from my office. Thire was summoned by the Chancellor.” He waved her over and she followed him into a small room not unlike Fox’s. She took a seat in the chair opposite Stone and turned her attention to the computer terminal that sat against the wall. The program running on the screen was displaying the name and vital signs of each man next to the soundwaves coming from each comm on the channel. She found Fox, or CC-1010, with ease.

“This is Bravo, kitchen is clear.”

“Fox, living spaces clear.”

A crash came through Scout’s comm and his rectangle lit up. “Target located: second level, first room left. Assistance required.”

“Coming, Scout. Hang in there.”

Riyo watched in mild fascination as the terminal lit up with sound of their footfalls as the other troopers ran to assist.

“This is Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard, Lor Hano you are under arrest for treachery against the Republic and the sedition of violence against a Republic Senator.” There was a click of handcuffs and Riyo couldn’t stop a smile from spreading across her face. “Scout, search the bedroom. Kilo, the office. The rest of you, pick a room and report to me when finished.”

The six soundwaves all synched up into footsteps and some vital signs fell back to resting levels as the adrenaline rush faded. She watched Fox’s soundwave blinking twice with the sound of both his and Hano’s footfalls. Then all the lights blinked and vanished.

“Stone?” She turned to see Stone pulling up his own comm.

“Kilo? Kilo can you hear me? Bravo, are you there? Repeat, Bravo, are you there? Fox?”

“Commander Stone!” Jek ran in, looking like he’d just woken up. He probably had. “Commander, there’s been an explosion. Ten south two east. Fire suppression team is engaging.”

“Suspected cause?”

“Hotwired thermal detonators to destroy evidence, sir. It came from the home of a Trade Federation officer we’ve been watching.” Riyo decided that he’d definitely just woken up or had just arrived at the office. She hadn’t seen him in the initial scan of the room. Then she realized what he was saying and she reached up to cover her mouth, stifling the cry rising in her throat.

“I’m going on-site. Stay here with Senator Chuchi.” Stone grabbed his helmet and blew past them, slamming the door behind him. Jek moved to take the commander’s seat across from her. He took in her expression.

“Fox is there, isn’t he?”

She nodded.

Jek reached across the desk to set a hand on Riyo’s shoulder. “I’m sure they’ll be alright, Senator. Unless he’s the one that triggered the blast, he’ll be okay. We’ve all been caught in these situations before. He’ll be pretty bruised up, but he’ll be okay.” He watched her expression for a minute before he spoke again, his voice barely a whisper. “You love him, don’t you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? I think so.” She hiccupped. Jek rose and walked over to her side. He stood behind her and began rubbing her back as she tried to steady her breathing to match his. Once she had settled down, Jek disappeared for a moment and reappeared with a pile of face tissue, which she gladly accepted. They sat in silence afterwards; across the desk from one another with Riyo squeezing Jek’s hand. If it hurt, he didn’t say anything.

“Senator?” The door to Stone’s office slide open to reveal Commander Thire, fully armored and helmeted.

“Is he-?” She fell silent as Thire raised his hand in a ‘stop’ motion.

“They’re all fine. Hano manually set off the detonators. None of our men were incapacitated. It appears that you are free to resume your routine without the protection of the Coruscant Guard.” She wished that he’d taken off his helmet so that she could read his expression. Maybe it was as blank as his voice.

“Thank you, Commander Thire, for all you and the Guard have done for me.” She rose and extended her hand. After a moment’s hesitation, he took it and gave her the most formal handshake she had ever had, and as a senator she was accustomed to them.

“It’s our duty, Senator Chuchi.”

“You didn’t come here to tell the Senator that she’s free to go, did you, sir?” Jek asked. He looked puzzled, and Riyo wondered if her gut feeling about the commander acting strangely formal was shared by Jek.

“The Chancellor requests your presence, Senator. I am to escort you to his office. Jek, go get some rest.” His voice softened when addressing his brother. Jek looked like he was about to argue, then thought better of it.

She followed Thire out of the office and into the halls of the Senate. It was still empty. She took advantage of the stillness to take a long look at the clone beside her without worry of bumping into another senator or representative. At first glance he seemed fine, but on closer inspection she noticed the slight shaking in his legs and how his fingers twitched.

“Commander, are you okay?” He didn’t respond, keeping his gaze forward. “Thire?” She prodded.

“Lor Hano is dead. He was standing under the detonator when it went off.” He didn’t turn to face her as he spoke.

“But you said that he’s the one that set it off, why wouldn’t he detonate it after he was out of the building?” She couldn’t read his body language; she could always read the clone’s body language.

“I don’t know. Fox is fine.”

“Wasn’t Commander Fox escorting Hano when the explosion went off?”

Thire’s head cocked slightly towards her. “Yes, I suppose he was thrown clear of the debris.” He spoke like he was trying to remember a dream. Riyo was close to tearing the helmet off his head when they arrived at the door to the Chancellor’s office. The two Red Guardsmen at the doors let them in, and she followed Thire to the room with the Chancellor’s desk.

“Senator Chuchi, it is a pleasure to see you.” The Chancellor swept over to greet her.

“Supreme Chancellor, the pleasure is all mine.” She took his outstretched hands and he gave them a reassuring squeeze as he escorted her to one of the lovely couches that circled his desk. She looked back to see Thire standing at attention in the doorway. When she turned back, she noticed the line of red and white standing at parade rest on her left. Each guardsman was covered in a layer of fine dust, some were stained with ash, but all of them stood completely still. She could’ve believed they were statues if it wasn’t for the subtle rise and fall of their shoulders. Fox was the furthest from her and her heart leapt at the sight.

“It is a pity that Lor Hano will not be brought to justice. However, I’m sure that a great burden has been lifted from your shoulders, Senator.” The Chancellor said as he seated himself opposite her.

“Actually, Your Excellency, the burden was lifted earlier this week by the presence of the Coruscant Guard. You should be very proud of their commitment to duty.”

“Oh, I am, Senator. I was just commending Commander Fox on his actions. I couldn’t ask for a more loyal commanding officer. He has never let me down.” Palpatine smiled fondly at the guardsmen, and Riyo felt a little more at ease. “If you will excuse me, Senator, I’m afraid that I must be going. It appears that I am needed elsewhere at this moment.”

“Of course, Your Excellency.” She bowed her head as he rose and took his leave from the room, Thire following close behind.

“Relax. You’re dismissed.” Fox said, at least, it must’ve been Fox. She turned back to the line of clones to see them come back to life. A few terse nods were given to her as the five men left the room, leaving her with Commander Fox. He raised his head slightly in her direction, and she took that as the sign for her to make the next move.

“Commander, would you mind escorting me to my office?”

“Of course not, Senator.” He said, moving to her side. They didn’t speak again until they were out of sight from the Red Guards at the Chancellor’s door.

“Are you okay?” She asked once they were away from all ears.

“A bit bruised, potentially concussed. I think I was thrown clear of the worst of the blast.”

“You think?”

“I don’t remember. I was at the foot of the stairs then Stone was pulling me out of the rubble.” He looked down to see the worry on her face. “It’s just a concussion, Riyo. We clones recover from them much faster than humans thanks to the Kaminii. I did lose my blaster though. Must’ve been knocked right out of the holster.”

Having arrived at Riyo’s office, she ushered Fox in before her, making sure that the door locked behind them. By the time she turned around, Fox had taken off his helmet and lain it on her desk, where he at perched on the edge looking over her.

“We never finished our conversation earlier.” She said, moving across the room to him.

“What a pity I can’t remember that conversation, I must’ve taken a harder hit to the head than I initially thought.” He smirked at her worried look that quickly hardened into frustrated amusement.

“You were talking about being born to die, I believe.” She raised her hand to his face, freezing midair as she took in the tiny cuts around the top of his blacks from the debris.

“Oh, yes. I don’t think I want to die. But I can’t remember the reason.” He took her hand from the air and brought it into his lap, where he held between his gloved palms.

“Is your reason a woman, perhaps?” She ventured. Two could play this game.

“Come to think of it, yes. I think I may have accidentally caught feelings for her when she was giving me the full-body pat down. Not to mention ordering me around like a shiny.”

“Are you a shiny, Commander Fox?”

“In love, very much so.” He cringed slightly after the words left his mouth, eliciting an amused smile from her. He stood up and took her face in his hands, tracing over the green arcs with his thumbs. “May I?”

She nodded fervently, forgetting how to speak. She tilted her head back as he leaned down, closing her eyes when she felt his lips begin to brush against hers. The kiss was softer than she had thought to be possible. His fingers traced over her cheeks as he moved his lips against hers, the motions restrained and calm. Her arms wrapped around his hips and pulled his body to hers. It felt so good to hold him. He pulled away all too soon. She ran her tongue around the inside of her lips after they had parted, tasting the remains of smoke and shattered drywall from the explosion that he had left on her.

“Damn.” She whispered, locking her hands behind his hips, refusing to let him pull back all the way. “I’m going to need you to do that again.”

“I’m at your service, Senator Chuchi.” He said, leaning down and finding her lips again. She fought back the urge to pull him in harder as she relaxed against him, parting her lips and letting him push deeper into her, imagining the same gentle kisses in a very different scene.

“Titles will only take us to a dark place, Commander Fox.” She purred into his mouth as he pressed his forehead to hers to take a shuddering breath.

Fox didn’t respond. He pulled her back against the desk, seating himself on the wood and pulling her onto his lap after him, wrapping his arms around her waist. He bent down and began to press the same soft kisses against her neck. She let out a deep sigh and wrapped her arms around him, running one hand through his hair. Still gentle, she was certain that he wouldn’t leave a mark. She considered asking him to bite her, or suck against the soft skin of her neck, but decided that was best saved for another occasion with another wardrobe. She couldn’t be walking around the Senate with bite marks and bruises on her neck. Someone would notice. One day, she’d dress in a high-collared shirt and let him mark her.

“I should be the one kissing you.” She sighed.

“No.” She could feel his lips move across her skin as he spoke. “You did enough last night. It’s my turn now.” He planted his lips in the crook of her neck and pulled her tighter against him. She let out a quiet moan, trying to consider where they were. She wondered how far they could get before it became too much or they were interrupted.

It turned out to be the latter, as she was startled a few seconds later by a hard knock on the door. She pressed against Fox’s shoulders, separating him from her skin.

“One moment, please.” She called.

“Senator Chuchi, your presence is requested in the Cantham House.” Said the person outside the door.

“Tell Senator Organa that I will be there shortly.” She called back. Once the footsteps had faded, she turned back to her companion. “Fox, I-.”

“Duty calls, Riyo.” He planted one quick kiss against her lips and helped her off the desk. “I understand. But we’re finishing this later.”

“My place? As soon as you can get away.” She begged.

“I’ll be there.” He promised.

---

“Where do you think you’re going?” Stone looked over the datapad he was holding to Fox’s bed, where he sat pulling on running shoes that he’d stolen long ago from undercover ops.

“I’m going out for a run.” Fox said, gesturing to the shoes.

“Are you sure that you’re not sneaking out to go back to your office?” Stone scoffed. “Thire, tell Fox he’s crazy.”

“Fox.” Fox paused to look across the room at Thire, who had been trying to sleep. "When you stand up, will you pass me the, uh, kriff, I can’t think straight.”

“Yeah, I can.” Fox tightened the shoe then walked over to the small sink the commanders shared. He filled up a nearby glass with water and grabbed the bottle on the shelf labeled ‘headache’ in bright red.

“Thank you, Fox.” Said Thire as he took the offered objects.

“I think you’re allergic to the Chancellor, Thire.” Stone teased. “You get a headache every time he calls on you.”

“The Chancellor is actually a telepathic Umbaran and he’s controlling you.” Fox shook his finger at Thire in mock agreement with Stone.

“The Chancellor is a wonderful man, you two are just old and calloused.” Thire groaned.

“He’s controlling everything, even now, he moves to destroy the Republic.” Fox shook his head at Thire as he walked backward towards the door.

“I will arrest you for treason, Fox. Go to work already.” Stone was close enough to give Fox a final shove out of the door.

There was nobody in the barracks halls to question Fox. Not that they would, he was their commanding officer and it was well known that he liked to masquerade as a civilian jogger. The light jacket he wore, also stolen from undercover ops, covered up the Republic symbol on his blacks. Of course they had a gym in the barracks, but Fox preferred the feeling of the city air on his face rather than the stale air of the track. In the past, he’d often ended his run at the Senate building, sleeping the rest of the night in his office. But now, this presented him with the perfect opportunity to meet Riyo.

She met him in the speeder lot of her apartment complex. He’d pulled the hood down as he approached and enjoyed watching the look on her face change from apprehension to joy as she ran to his arms. Her hair was down, and he ran his fingers through it as he held her to his chest.

“You scared me, Fox.” She laughed.

“Sorry, I thought this was more subtle.” He rested his head on the top of hers. Her hair smelled amazing, and he wished that he could’ve named the scent or even begun to describe it.

“Come.” She pulled back and grabbed his hand, leading him to her apartment. “How did you get away?” She asked as she turned to lock the door.

“The boys think I’m sleeping at the office.”

“Well then, let’s keep it that way.” She turned back to him and unzipped the running jacket, slipping it off his shoulders and hanging it on a waiting hook. He gasped a little as she placed her hands on his chest and she drew back quickly.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Just a bruise. You gotta go easy on me tonight.” He pulled her back in, minding the ache across his body. “It’ll be much easier once we get the blacks off and you can see them.”

She laughed, reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair away from his face. “Is that really your best bedroom talk, Commander?”

“Probably.” He chuckled as he looked down at her. She was beautiful, and she was his. “I thought you said that titles would take us to a dark place?”

“Yes, but I plan on kissing every bruise on your body tonight.” She brought her hand down from his brow to rest it under his jaw, stroking his cheeks as he had stroked hers.

“Mm. That does sound nice.” He closed his eyes and leaned into the gesture, letting all of the day’s tension drain out of him. The apprehension of last night was gone, replaced by hard resolve. He had sworn an oath- a decision that he had had no control over- to the Republic, to protect the Republic, to die for the Republic. And he would keep that oath, loyal to his last breath. Because the Republic wasn’t the Chancellor or the Senate building, it was the people. Riyo was the Republic, and he would ruin himself a million times for her.

[gukptune]

Pairing: jimin x reader, member x reader

Genre: angel!au, angel!jimin, angelhunter!reader, fallen angel!member, unrequited love?

Warnings: explicit language, gore, unhealthy sibling relationship, funny business, loads of sexual tension, eventual smut

Summary: only once in a blue moon do an angels fall from the skies, to the luck of a young angel hunter an angel fell right into her hands.

Words: 6.6k+

Note: This has been in the works for the longest time!!! This is a multiple members x reader, but the second member is revealed in the story! I’ll add them to the tags a few days after the release, spoilerss. I hope you guys will like it, it’s very original (i hope).

The crunching of snow, crumbling at the heel of your shoes. The pure white earth blending with the light blue sky of the early morning, the only sign of ground being that of the overgrown Oak trees, bare of leaves with only some stringy twigs remaining. With the occasional cuties running across the ground and little furry creatures, lightening your mood by the minute.

The crisp wind slicing the bare skin of your cheeks. Your fingertips tightening around the leather wrap of the basket in your hand.

Skipping over the protruding roots of the Oaks, you make your way towards the far creek, far enough for your heels to start aching. The wisps of your hair brushing past your cheeks in strange patterns, as if it was getting rougher. Giving you a sense of unease. You faced the direction of which the wind originated letting the air rush past your ears as you watched the obscurity in the distance.

It looked like nothing special to the usual eye, but you weren’t usual. If you were just anyone else, you’d just assume it was some bird flying in a strange circle and you would have gone about your day. A sinking feeling maybe had found itself within you, was it really that time again?

Instantly, you forgot about the basket and your search for the pollen, it wasn’t as important now that you’ve seen that.

You ran like your life depended on it back towards Hearth. As soon as you reached the gates your fellow mates faces twisted with confusion at the usually calm collected girl running like a crazed witch ablaze.

“Brother! Brother!” You yelled, as you reached the castle’s courtyard, hoping to get a sense of his direction. Within an instant one of the hunters raised his finger in the right direction. You thanked him quickly running into the left wing, he must be in the library.

Blasting the damned door open, you scurried about. Whipping your head around, you finally see the spot in which his dark hair illuminated by the large window. He’s completely covered in thick fur, making your nose flare but you couldn’t think too much of it now. Your tapping heels quivered his ears enough to make him expect your arrival but the look on his face changed when he sees how distressed you looked.

“What happened—”

“I saw one, it fell in Ivory Orchard—well not really. I was near it and it was falling east from the direction of Hallow Creek,” You spit out, catching your breath with your hands on your knees bracing yourself.

Your brother’s eyebrows cocked, “Are you sure?

“Yes! I’m sure, Taehyung—you know it was suppose to happen weeks ago, it’s here now,” You told him.

The look on his face was doubt and worry, of course, you had just given him hope for the season. It had been slow and well, it was about time. You’ve all been lacking in game.

“I’ll get the Guild out,” Taehyung got up, dropping his book on his seat as he pushes past you without a glance.

You were fuming, knowing damn well what he meant, “The Guild?”

“Yes, if you saw one there’s always bound to be more than one,” He responds, marching towards the main hall with you trailing behind him.

He was walking fast, and you were walking even faster than him. Managing to get in front of him you scoffed, “I found it.”

“Doesn’t fucking matter if you’ve seen him, y/n, only matters when you catch one,” His eyes burned into yours.

Grunting you made your way past him, “So I’ll go fucking get it.”

Before you could get far, he roughly grabbed you, pulling you back, “You’ve never caught one, shit, you’ve never even fucking seen one up close Y/n. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Neither have you.” Friendly rivalry wasn’t something that ran in your family, it was rather brutal. You all wanted to be the epitome, the best. Never given the chance yet now was that time.

You didn’t understand his anger, you gave him information, if there were many why would he be worried that he wouldn’t have the kill.

“Y/n, look at yourself. You’re kidding yourself if you think you’d actually kill one of them.”

“Look at you, we both know I’m more hunter than you are—Father’s said it, Mother’s too fucking nice to tell you the truth,” You spat.

Reality was hard on him, you know that. Since childhood you’ve excelled past him. It was humiliating, you knew it. Whilst you were praised for your talents, Taehyung was considered a waste. You were twins, they considered you the blessed twin thinking that you excelled past many because you got all your Father’s talent leaving none for your twin, making him the lesser.

Your parents never treated you guys differently, but neither was your father a liar. He was honest, to the point, wouldn’t bullshit whatsoever, whenever Taehyung would slack, he’d get in trouble. You never thought Taehyung would ever grow into a hunter, you never thought he wanted to be one. You two used to share a bedroom where he’d constantly be reading, dreaming and drawing. He’d follow you on herb hunts to merely draw the flowers, he was strong, physically but he couldn’t stand the sight of blood.

During your physical maturity he passed out seeing the red stains on your bedsheets, he also cried thinking you were going to die. You were close, as close as any twin could be until he could finally understand the stares and murmurs he’d get about being the lesser twin. It was then, when you were both sixteen when he broke away finding his own group of friends and leaving you alone. You didn’t seek friendship, neither did you try.

Your brother became his own person, of course many would still talk when you needed to stand together side by side with your Father but otherwise, he was his own man. A man many women lusted for and well, had. He became a true man-whore. Picking women like they were toys he could discard, one of the reasons why you preferred being away from him. That and his disgusting friends, none of which were worthy enough to be called hunters.

He kept his mouth shut, his eyes dropping towards your shaking hands. You knew he can’t stand in your way. Pushing past him you rushed to your bedroom to ready up. Gathering all the gear you’d need, gathering your thoughts for the first time—a lifetime of training to finally kill—

An angel.

The long day had drained into a long night, teams of what few hunters existed unearthed the area. Ripping apart the little greenery and even threatening the villagers around. You rolled your eyes at their attempt, of course the people around here despised your kind—mostly out of fear and hatred.

Hunters, they should be grateful. The kingdom does nothing to protect them, only the Hunters do the dirty work, getting paid little for it, leading Hunters like yourself to sell your catch to others that would pay a high price for it. Including, alchemists who’d used the parts for their craft, or wealthy nobles who’d consumed them for holistic beliefs. Or if desperate you’d even trade them to witches.

Of course, many hunters lurked for different hunts, you were the most daring kind. Angel Hunters, hunting the feathered that fell from the sky during a blue moon. They’d all fall the same time and scatter around the world for safety, their safety whilst causing chaos to your world. They’re of high priority to the royals and rich, they love to hang their precious wings on their walls for status. Getting their asses kissed by those that desire to be them as they gloat about their hunt, eluding the fact that you, angel hunters like you, get drenched in blood getting those pretty wings for them.

As much as you hated angels, you hated those people way more.

The snow had started to level, stomped on by your people. You had lost hope at this point, you weren’t going to get that angel, over the hill you could see your brother ordering men around to find the angel. They’ve found a feather, so now they’re determined.

Most Angel Hunters were men, they could handle their strength easier, it was just the truth yet the rare females were always stronger, if we inherit it that is. You weren’t going to come out this far again anytime soon in this weather if you hadn’t thought it would be the right chance to finally get that pollen, before it’s all gone.

Huffing you trudged over towards the ravenous creek, known to have killed many little children from neighbouring villages apparently. Good, you didn’t have to worry of teeny devils getting in your way, you’d gladly push them into the water in fact.

The red pollen plant popped clearly against the white snow, you fell on your knees, deep in snow as you eyed the plant trying to get a sense of a good one. Needing a healthy, juicy one to properly extract. Turning around you grabbed your bag and pulled out a small drawstring bag, lined inside with leather and wool on the outer. Leather to keep the plant from getting into the fabric, with edition from the wool keeping it all dry. You continued to pick at all the pollen you could.

It was strangely serene, the sound of rolling water and the occasional chirping from birds. If only you could sit here forever, if only that wasn’t extremely boring.

Getting off your bum, began to get back, eyeing a large group of pollen, excitement filled you as you ran towards it. One of your hands, trying to wisp it all up, causing a stain on your bare skin, your eyes widening in shock as the stain began to drip off you onto the dusted white snow illuminated by the night sky.

What—

This wasn’t pollen. It was blood, it wasn’t just any blood, fresh blood. At this point in the season and time, no animal was out hunting. It was hard to believe at first that it was blood, but the smell was enough to secure that thought. No more second guessing, it has to be.

Your head whipped around, looking for any signs of more blood, hopefully a trail. The damned thing lost what seemed like a ‘death approaching’ load of blood.

A thrill shot through you, a trail. Not just any, a trail any animal could smell from far away.

Instantly, you rushed towards the droplets. Red and fresh, hard to see in the darkness but reeks enough to tell you it was close.

You knew this area well, you knew everywhere very well. Thanks to your talented twin who’d sketch maps and locations all the time, you managed to remember most of it, without his permission of course. You could only think of one place it would be hiding in.

There it was—whimpering.

Heavy breathing.

Your heart raced, somehow in the tiniest place in your head you wished it wasn’t an angel, hoping it would be anything but that, yet there in the thorny bushes circling(circling) around a bare space where a large white oak once sat before lightening took it down. Approaching it, you gripped the blade in your waist. Unsheathing it and twirling it in your hand to point in its direction. Within the ring of bushes, you saw something over the thorns. Stealthily you hopped over the bush, landing without a sound. Seemingly your previous skills worked wonders in this case, you were used to doing dirty deeds for others with enemies.

You circled the white fluff covering the ground, its feathered covering it from danger but also from knowing of approaching danger like yourself. Your heart raced, you felt like it was beating out of your chest at this point. Choking you up slightly, beating at the base of your throat. Your chest heaving trying to keep yourself calm.

Calm like the wind.

Finally getting around to a point where you could see light hair peeking out of the large wings. A weighted feeling filled you, it was just like you, looked like you. Human but winged, you blinked away your thoughts, they weren’t the right things to be thinking right now, those things were scums.

Before your feelings could get in the way of duty again, you lifted the blade to strike at it, where it would kill within an instant. With your body ready to strike a twig snapping underneath your feet causing light coloured eyes to blink into life.

A gasp left your lips as its wings feathered outwards, pushing it back away from you within an instant. As the wings spread apart it revealed the being that hid underneath the soft surface. Its eyes ripped apart with a shriek spilling from its lips.

The being scrambled towards the far end, pushing itself into the vines of the thorns and razor-sharp leaves, visibly leaving dents into its wings—feathers puffing through the air.

You hovered over it, trying your hardest to focus on your intentions, gripping the hilt of your knife so hard your hand could literally turn red. As you took in its physical attributes you saw it all.

The angel’s pure white lashes over its light eyes glimmering in the moon lit night, pupils directing its gaze towards the glistening dagger in your hand. Its bare chest heaving as it finally meets your gaze.

Your breath hitched as you could feel your heart tighten at the thing in front of you, seemingly so innocent, pure, nothing like you were raised to believe. It didn’t seem to be a shell filled with evil but rather, a terrified, frail, losing, prey.

Its white skin covered with scratches, blood, even dirt. Snow peppering on the ends of its relatively messy hair, as a flake falls right on the end of its button nose, you sneered causing your prey to whimper, not truly from its attempt to duck but from its strained movement.

As it laid on its side, you laid eyes on the palm that grasped its waist, holding onto a large wound, dirtied with twigs and grass. Its bare feet kicking even though it did nothing to get up, it was pathetic, even sad how hard it was trying but in the end it does nothing to help.

You stepped closer to it, blinking towards it, finding a spot for you to strike. It squinted in pain, its mouth shivering as it managed a few words, “Please—I—I won’t hurt you.”

It spoke the language you do and for some odd reason you didn’t expect that. Of course, you’ve heard the tales, gotten the lectures and studies about Angels but to finally be in front of one and getting the information firsthand was just—different.

“You can’t hurt me even if you tried,” You spat, narrowing your eyes at the angel’s wounds. It took note, nodding as it lets out a deep breath seemingly spacing out.

Its head whirling, as its eyes kept drooping.

You couldn’t help but feel sympathetic, but you couldn’t show it, “Gosh, from all the tales I’ve been told to fear those like you—you don’t live up to your reputation angel.”

It blinks, puffing its cheeks before responding, “Fear me? I don’t—I’m sorry?”

You cocked your head with confusion, maybe the thing was losing braincells, “Don’t play dumb.”

The look on its face was enough to answer that. You shook your head pointing your blade at it, “Your kind fall from the sky to disturb the peace on our lands. No one in our world believes the folklore that was told to us as gullible children, that ’angels are messengers of god’ if anything you all serve the devil.”

Its eyes widened with disbelief, murmuring to itself. Pulling itself together it looked to you, “Is that what you believe? That we’re descendants of the devil?”

Its eyes watered. You couldn’t believe it, it must be acting, faking it for your sympathy maybe it would survive. Or it was stupid.

“I don’t believe in much of what they say, I believe in what I see—”

“And do you see the devil?” It cuts you off, “Please, we’re here to help.”

“Help with what exactly, it’s been centuries since your kind was valuable to us in terms of ‘help’ let’s just say—” You dropped to your knees, your hand striking your blade onto the end of the angels wing causing it to shriek out in pain.

“—nobles value your kind for reasons that you’d rather not know of.”

It nods, knowing that it’d survive longer agreeing than fighting you.

“You’re one of those angel hunters…aren’t you?” Its voice wavering, tears ran right down its face now, dropping all over its bare chest and—thighs.

Yours eyes looked down subconsciously, seeing exactly what you didn’t intend on looking at. You looked away, blade still plunged into the angel’s wing. Its shaking hand hovered over your own, suddenly it drops onto your skin. The angel’s hand was cold and delicate over your torn-up knuckles and broken nails.

It saw the hesitation in you, with every step you doubted. It wasn’t stupid at all. It read you, it understood you. It showed this, “We aren’t bad—we’re brought down here to help you all. We’re just messengers of heaven we have no ill thought or even the means to do such bad things.”

You didn’t want to listen to it, not at all. “Please—”

Its cries struck within your core.

“Then what are you here to do, angel.” As much as you didn’t want your heart to win against your head it always managed to. You blankly stared awaiting a response from the feathered being.

He breathes deeply before his eyes sank into your own, “To teach what can’t be taught through violence and pain.”

An overbearing weight on your shoulder told you it was a mistake, the little devil on your shoulder said to just stab him in the back right now—right through his heart—the back of his head through his eye sockets.  

But you couldn’t even imagine doing that, fuck, what was wrong.

You felt pathetic, like a failure. All your life you trained to finally lay eyes on your prey, to kill him and take his wings like the savages you were supposed to be. But you can’t, it felt so wrong. Your skin crawled, itched, grew hives thinking of it. That feeling in your chest, squeezing tightly within you had just made you the weakest link of all, a hunter who couldn’t hunt.

Here he was, the angel you thought to kill, walking in front of you with your overcoat covering him and his large wings. From afar he merely looked like an extremely pale boy with glittery hair and features, walking barefoot. His wings wouldn’t retract, he said from his injuries he can’t make himself hide it, he needed to heal first. What were you even doing?

He would look back every now and then, was he making sure you weren’t going to kill him or whether you’re still following him. You were guiding him to your home, you chose to be behind him to get a view of him and whatever upcoming dangers. You didn’t tell him another reason was to keep him where you could see, you didn’t trust him, not fully. He had his way with words, somehow so eloquent with his words and so convincing, maybe it was one of his traits, lying.

You decided to take him the long way that would allow you both to arrive behind the castle at Venandi Hallows, you weren’t about to drag an angel right through the front gates into the training ground for all the hunters who trained after dark to jump him and neither were you going back the same way you came to face your twin and have him see what you’ve decided to do, gosh he would be so angry, disappointed, he wouldn’t believe himself.

The angel cradled your coat around himself like a child, as he padded through the snow, the closer you got to home the more nervous you became. Hopefully no one would be out the back at this moment in the night.

“Is this the place?” His voice echoed, dragging you back to reality.

You blinked at the view ahead, nodding, “Yes, it is. We better be quick unless you want to die.”

He looked back at you, giving you a visible full nod as he side stepped for you to lead. You didn’t look him in the eye as you passed him, even feeling his radiating heat, must’ve been an angel thing which would explain how he was able to withstand the freezing weather with nothing on and not get hypothermia or well, die.

Your bedroom was the only place you knew as safe, no one would dare walk in unannounced. It was also further up the tower than most other bedrooms, the only problem being your brother who might’ve been in his room across your own.

For safe measures you locked the door as secure as you could, for some reason you felt a sense of possessiveness over the angel. The angel that now, still draped with your raven black coat, sat on your cotton sheets. He feels at the fabric underneath him, his gentle small hand brushing over it with such curiosity.

“What am I supposed to do now,” You mumbled.

The angel heard you. His eyes watch you pace back and forth around your room with such worry. You could feel his burning eyes. He lets out a squeak before he seals his lips shut, he wanted to say something, but he didn’t know if he could. You pause, looking over at him to lock eyes with him.

His chest freezes mid breath, he doesn’t even blink, staring back at you.

“You wanted to say something, angel.”

The angel nods, taking a deep breath before he responds, “I apologise for putting you in this position.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is. You didn’t need to help me, I don’t know why you did but I thank you… for saving my life. I owe my entire existence to you, I shall serve you until your last breath.”

That was unexpected. You didn’t want this, no, you wanted to get rid of him but instead he’s devoting himself to you just like that. You recalled the events earlier, groaning with frustration. He mentioned ‘we’ as he spoke, could that possibly mean there were multiple here to serve whatever purpose that he was here for as well.

“You mentioned something earlier, I want to know whether there’s more of you,” You asked.

The angel froze again, looking down at his hands whilst twisting them about, “Yes, there are.”

He seemed troubled having to express this. You didn’t expect him to be so straightforward to you.

“Angel. What are you actually here to do,” You pushed, stepping closer to him. You see him tense up. The little hairs on his skin standing up.

He closes his eyes for a few seconds, “I was sent to fall because of a prayer.”

“A prayer? Could you speak with sense! Stop speaking in metaphors.”

“They aren’t metaphors. A girl called for us, she’s spent her entire life praying for us to come here and we’ve finally been able to,” He explained, his voice wavering as if he was going to break out in tears.

It caused you to feel a squeeze in your chest.

“Who’s the girl.”

“I don’t know.”

This wasn’t going the way you wanted. You’d had hoped if there was a name, you’d take him to her, and he’d finally leave. You move yourself over towards a vacant chair, dropping yourself on it as if you were some heavy load.

The groan that left your lips and the hands that rubbed against your face told the angel that you were burdened by him. He felt awful, “I—I’d like to know your name.”

“My—my name? Why would you need to know that?”

“I don’t need to know it, but I’d like to know it.”

You sighed, “Y/n.”

“Y/n. Y/n…” The angel mumbles your name quietly, you could only see his lips move while he pronounces the word, “My name is Jimin.”

“Jimin? Strange name for an angel.”

He nods, letting out a breathy laugh, “I know. I was told to use this name when I’m here, it was my name before I died.”

Before he died. So, it was true that angels were the souls of those that passed. He must’ve done a lot of good to become an angel. Maybe he was the kindest person to exist, he seemed like he was. He was changing a lot of your assumptions of his kind, they weren’t so scary, they weren’t murderers of yet, nor were they seemingly ‘spawns of the devil’.

“Do you like being an angel?”

“Yes. I get to help people. I get to see things people don’t get to see. Most importantly I get to meet incredible people…if I was never an angel, I would’ve never met you.” His words were sweet, too sweet for a world like your own.

“I—“

“Y/n!” A loud knock in the door made you jump off your seat, “It’s me, we’ve caught one.”

It was your brother. He’s, he’s actually caught one. You look towards Jimin, his expression showed everything—he was scared, worried for his fellow angel. He begins to get up, your coat slipping off his body.

“No! Sit down,” You whisper shouted, motioning for him to stay seated. For his own safety and your eyes’ purity.

You knew you had to go out to see it, hoping Jimin would listen and stay put, “I’ll be there in a second, brother.”

You hear him respond before his footsteps echo further and further away. Breathing a sigh of relief, you hear Jimin ask, “That’s your brother? He sounds… scary, did he catch an angel?”

“I think so.”

“Please—I need to help him—“

“No, I’ll figure something out, just please don’t go anywhere,” You cut him off, pleading at him, “I… I don’t want to lose you, okay?”

His face flushes red, his eyes widening. Jimin nods rapidly, settling himself into your bed. You don’t know what had gotten into you, there was just an overwhelming sense that filled you. But it wasn’t important right now.

You rush out of the door, taking one last look back at him. He gives you a worried smile, assuring you that he’d stay put but also showing that he was worried.

The race downstairs was quick, you could hear the loud shouting coming from the dungeons right away. It was indeed your father and brother arguing. You pushed past all the people in the way to get a proper look at the situation.

The angel tied up in the centre of the room, he was hanging from his bound wrist off the ceiling. He was terribly wounded, and his eyes couldn’t even stay open. Something strange did stand out amidst the argument.

Your father takes one look to realise you were here, “Y/n, tell me why your brother caught a defective angel.”

“A what?”

Taehyung growls, “Father said that this angel is defective, take a look at it.”

You knew what he meant, the angel didn’t have pure white hair, or pure white wings. They were black, pitch black. He was much larger than Jimin. You’ve read about these types of angels before. Fallen angels.

You knew one way that could allow him to live, one way.

“He’s a fallen angel,” You announced, the angel’s ears perked. He looks up at you from between the space of your father and brother. His naked body, glimmering in the candle lit room.

His left eye bruised and cut, his body covered in stab wounds, yet he still stood on his knees with dominance.

“So, it won’t sell,” Taehyung spat, “Like I fucking said, Dad.”

Your father curses, whipping his hand at the crowd of hunters motioning for them to leave. He lets out a sound of frustration.

“It’s been months since we caught one, Taehyung you need to lead a proper hunt. Y/n, I know you’re a good tracker, I know you can do this alone. We won’t survive without another one, please.”

That was all he said. Your father walks away without another word, knowing that you two would do as he told. You sighed, seeing your brother in distraught.

“Tae—“

“Don’t talk. I need to figure this out,” He interrupts, mumbling some plans to himself.

You look at the poor angel on the ground, probably wondering what his fate would be. “What about him.”

“It. Will die,” Taehyung pulls out his pocket watch, “With cuts like that, he’ll bleed out anyway. A painful death for a worthless hunt.”

Your brother doesn’t bother saying another word or sparing you a glance when he leaves. Stomping his way out of the dungeons leaving you standing across from the tainted soul. You took in his appearance this time.

Stepping closer, you see him try to move backward away from you with fear.

You continued, eyeing him. His hair was tousled, curly and longer than Jimins’. His body was stocky and buff, much more than Jimin. He was naked of course, you were trying to avoid eye contact with his privates. His thighs, his very muscular thighs, were what your eyes couldn’t part with.

You walk towards the table against the wall, pulling out the fabric underneath the gruesome tools and tossed it at his crotch. Completely covering him up. The angel’s head turned up, his eyes snaps towards you.

His lips curled into a smirk, “Can’t stand the sight of me?”

You tilt your head. He’s indeed very different.

“I bet you feel disappointed.”

“Disappointed?”

“Yes, in your men. I’d be disappointed too if I looked like them,” He laughs, his body language filled with arrogance. Well he was very deviant compared to Jimin.

His bounded hands rustled, the chains clanged against each other, he was getting off his knees. You see the way he didn’t care that the cloth had dropped off his crotch, he stood fiercely over you. His broad shoulders covering most of the light behind him.

He cocked his head sideways, narrowing his eyes into you. You hold your head up high unmoving, you didn’t want to show him that you were intimidated whatsoever.

“You look different from most of the hunters I’ve seen.”

“You’ve seen more than this?” You motioned behind you where the hunters were.

He nods his head, “You aren’t the only camp of hunters, darling.”

The word he used shot a spike through you.

“By that I assume that you’ve survived their hunt, why have you lost to this one?”

The angel bites the side of his lip, “A bad day, I guess.”

From the little experience you’ve had, he was the first fallen angel you’ve ever seen or even talked to. He was indeed fearless, he didn’t even flinch when your brother mentioned he was to die. He was so, ominous.

“You have a big ego.”

“No, I think I’m just confident.”

“You think you’re better than everyone—“

The angel clicks his tongue, “No, I just know I’m better than everyone around here. Don’t lie to yourself, all the sad brutes you house, they don’t compare to me. Be honest, wouldn’t you rather suck my cock than theirs?”

His perverted words should’ve made you feel disgusted, but instead somehow you were confused, your body was confused.

“How are you so shameless.” You took a look around to make sure no one else heard a thing.

He raises his eyebrow at you, “You’re the only pretty thing I’ve seen in years. How could I not be, I want to live too.”

So, he was trying to use you to save himself, great. You rolled your eyes, watching as the angel twists himself around possibly stretching out his sores and aches, giving you a look at his flexing abs in the process.

“Come on, it’s not like you’re not keeping a little secret already.”

You felt nerves rising up your spine, your face heating.

“I can smell the angel you have, no one else knows?” He grins, “You’re one naughty hunter, aren’t ‘ya.”

“I think you need to shut up,” You said with a low menacing tone, “I could kill you.”

The angel nods, grinning to himself, “But you won’t. You’re too nice.”

Nice, in a world like this nice didn’t exist. It was a pity and the rare sense of sympathy from most. You just couldn’t process the fact that the damned angel had figured it out already, why didn’t Jimin tell you that angels could smell each other.

“If you help me, I’ll be on my way and you can keep your little white angel.”

You had to, there was no other way.

“And how do I do that, I’m no doctor.”

“The angel can heal—“

“Then why can’t you?”

He sighs, rolling his eyes at you, “Like you said, I’m a fallen angel. I’m not like him, I’m the worthless leftover of heaven. Why do you think they tossed me away, why my wings turned black and my hair burnt away?”

“Alright then, just don’t make a sound, okay?”

He seemed pleased that he managed to convince you. Standing up straighter, his face flinching whilst you tried to unchain him. It was rather easy to pick these chains. The chains dropped to the ground with a rattle, the angel breathed a sigh of freedom. Rubbing his wrists with a pure smile on his face.

“Now, where’s your friend?”

You didn’t think this through very well, you were never good at making plans. You did manage to sneak the angel up, his wings were massive though, but you were thankful that everyone was at dinner instead of the living courters.

Pushing the door open you see Jimin curled up under your blanket, sleeping away with a peaceful look on his face.

When you shut the door leaving all of you finally alone. The angel flutters his wings out, it was then that you realised that the bottom half of one of his wings were missing. He sighed, taking it in his hands. He brushes it against his face, closing his eyes to savour it. You did find beauty in the darkness of his wings, you’d like to think he did too.

He saw you watch him, locking eyes with you he gave you a foreign expression.

“He’s sleeping,” You said.

The angel nods, “I can see that. We can wait.”

He sits himself in the chair you once sat in, making himself comfortable. You see his wounds start leaking blood again, you couldn’t help but feel like you needed to do something.

“Would you survive the night, with cuts like that?”

“I don’t know,” He revealed, his voice showed signs of doubt. He flicked his eyes back and forth between his stomach and your face, “At least I’ll die with a pretty girl looking over me.”

“Shut up. You won’t die.”

You walked towards the end of your bed where you kept most of the supplies for accidents. Rustling through the chest, you came across some tonics, chemicals and gauze. Hopefully it would stop the bleeding. You also picked up the thing you hated, needles and thread, you could never imagine using them for wounds neither did you even dare watch someone use it.

You marched over to the dark angel, setting the supplies on the desk behind him where you usually worked. His eyes watched your hand drop the stuff down, he furrows his eyebrows at it.

“What’s that going to do?”

You took a deep breath, “Hopefully, it will seal you up.”

His face was plastered with doubt still, he must’ve never seen such things. You wouldn’t blame him he wasn’t human after all. You pulled up another chair to place in front of him. Picking up a thin blanket on the way, holding it out to him.

He looks between you and the blanket again, “What do I do with this?”

“Cover yourself up, I don’t need to see your…uhm that, or breath over it when I stitch you up,” You sat on the chair.

The angel’s face twists to a grin, his eyebrows curving playfully, “I wouldn’t mind you breathing over my cock if you wanted.”

He sees the look on your face and immediately covers himself. You weren’t in the place to play along right now or argue. You just needed to make sure he wouldn’t die in his sleep.

“It’s going to hurt.”

“It won’t hurt as much as getting my feathers ripped out.”

You wanted to apologise, for the shit he went through. The shit your brother did to him, or made others do to him. It was so unnecessary, usually we hunt angels with the purpose of selling them whole now a days. Keeping them pretty, but of course your brother was angry that he wasn’t a proper angel, so he took it out on him.

“I’m going to start, okay,” You told him, your hands shaking as you held the needle.

He notices this, taking your hand in his large warm hands, “I don’t know what you’re going to do but it’s okay, it won’t hurt me.”

You appreciate his motivation, nodding. You clean him up a little before beginning. Right at the first incision his hand drops to your thigh, gripping onto it, “Oh fuck.”

You let out a little chuckle unknowingly.

“Oh yes, it’s real funny.”

“I’m sorry!”

He shakes his head letting out a smile, “Yea, yea.”

You started with the wound closest to his chest, then you went down. Closing three of them up and having one left. The last one being on the side of his pelvis. He pushes himself further towards the end of the chair, leaning himself back giving you more space. But with that given space his thighs spread over your own, trapping you in between his own.

You lean over his crotch, resting your elbow between the joint of his hips and thigh. Surprisingly he lacked hair in almost every part of his body but his head. His eyes never leaving you, watching you seal up his cuts.

His hands shaking from the pain, you could see from the corner of your eyes they came close to your face. His hand lightly brushes the fallen strand of hair behind your ear, you paused, not knowing where to look.

You blinked up at him. His face seemingly getting closer…and closer. His wavering hand, slipping behind your nape, pulling you closer to him. Now he was the one breathing over you, his lips so close. His eyes locked with yours, the dark eyes seemingly even darker now.

You see the ball in his throat move as he swallows. His lips brushing against your own, before it fully takes you. The wet, warm and soft pink skin against your own, heating your body up against the winter cold. He was burning you up, his touch was stirring you up. Lips moving against each other without a care in the world, you’ve planted your hands against his abdomen, feeling up the flexing muscle of it.

He lets out a filthy groan, filling up your ears with its alluring sound.

He threads his fingers into your loose hair, holding you against his lips. His free hand sliding up your thigh, so close to your warming core.

He pulls away with a lewd smack, his lips wet with your mixed saliva, “I don’t even know you name, darling.”

“Y/n.”

He smiles with bliss, “Jungkook.”

[gauntsghostsfieldguide]

Blood Pact- Part 6

@the-fluffy-underbelly

SIXTEEN 

The Other Hunters

“The vehicle they’d found abandoned up the street behind him was definitely the same one that had outrun them at Section. The blood drops on the snow completed the death warrant.” That’s worrying.

“Samus was standing outside one of the buildings just ahead, staring up the steps at the front door.” Did he name this character on purpose? Metroid is pretty well known, after all.

“A sign, some kind of pole device that Karhunan half-recognised from the depths of his scarred memory, hung above the door on a brass rail.” Interesting. At least one of the members of the team was an Imperial citizen, once upon the time. It was mentioned that people do defect sometimes.

“A long time ago, in what was almost literally another life, Imrie had been, like Karhunan, a Throne soldier. He was a convert, an incomer. The sept word was elterdwelt, which meant “other life” or, more loosely, “traded item”. He had sloughed off most of his other life, shed it gladly like a snake sheds an old, tight skin, but some parts of it had remained stubborn. Damogaur Eyl, no elterdwelt but rather Consanguinity-born, cherished such old traits in the men of his philia. Imrie had been a scout, a hunter. He saw details almost anyone else would miss.” And the people who defect to Chaos are accepted in without worry that they’ll be traitors again, it looks like. Probably the effects of Chaos are assumed to prevent that.

“Nothing had been left behind, except the ghost of squirming tyre tracks.” Someone had been paranoid enough to set up another exit and a car to make it a fast one.

“It was a rickety thing that patently hadn’t been used in years.” Or maybe it was just where the ambulance was kept, back when it was still a medical office instead of a morgue.

“I have a slight advantage,” said Gaunt. He double-blinked and switched his focal field to highgain, low light. Streetlamps or no street-lamps, the way ahead lit up for him.” And that’s why you let the guy with augmetic eyes drive at night.

“We’ve got their blood.” Oh right, blood tracking. Great.

“Her body was in turmoil. She knew that. The chronic tension of life in a warzone bent a person’s biology out of shape, and left it fit for nothing else. It built shortcut response pathways, and bred bad habits. It altered hormone values and metabolic functions to tolerate prolonged and elevated stress. It modified you to get you through, whatever it took, and then left the modifications in you when you returned to what was laughingly referred to as normal life. It left them with corrosive physiological and psychological damage that took a thousand times longer to erase than it had taken to inflict.” Interesting that she knows all this. I wonder if Dorden gave lectures about combat effects on psychology? It seems like something he’d do.

“For feth’s sake, Tona,” Gaunt yelled. “It’s me!” Well, don’t shop up all mysterious in the middle of the night and you won’t get speared!

SEVENTEEN 

Blood for the Blood God

“Gaunt had looked him in the face and told him how close the Blood Pact were and, rather more graphically, what would happen when they stormed the house.” I’m sure that got him moving.

“War,” said Maggs. “It feths up your head. It feths it up in terrible ways. And the longer you’re exposed to it, the worse it’ll get.” He’s got a point.

“Even the things that survived a war, even the things left standing, came out of it with scars.” Symbolism!

“It tasted of blood. Everything tasted of blood.” That is what happens when you drink things with blood in your mouth.

“Besides, you know we can’t. We can’t slip away from this. This world will end us. This mission will undo us. A day more, perhaps two, that’s the measure of our lifetimes. We knew this when we accepted the burden upon our souls.” A suicide mission, like the one in Traitor General.

“For the first time since Hinzerhaus, Maggs realised he’d dreamed about the old dam. He’d dreamed about her long, black rustling dress and the face he did not want to behold.” That’s bad. Especially since that also describes the witch.

EIGHTEEN

Zolunder’s

“Banda looked pinched and tearful. She was still dressed in the red silk gown she’d been wearing when the Commissariat had carted her away, and not much else. She was shivering, and leaning on the gryphon’s beak of the black iron handrail for support.” For some reason, I’d always assumed that she’d been redressed in fatigues when she got picked up. It wasn’t until this rereading that I realized she was wearing the same dress the entire time.

“Naked, she crossed to the toilet’s small window and forced it open. Ancient overpainting had fused the seal shut, and she had to smack the frame with the heel of her hand.” She couldn’t have dressed first?

“looking at the commissar uniform Rawne was wearing.” Yeah, they got stuck in what they were wearing for the con.

“He smashed backwards into the cooker, and brought the pan of frying eggs and rashers down on top of him as he folded onto the floor and lay still in a lake of his own spreading blood.” No, the food! He ruined it!

“Because,” said Rawne, “we are deep in it, and I don’t want the fether who’s supposed to have my back to be anything less than wide awake.” And this is the moment that Rawne comes back. Remembers who he is and what he does and reverses his backslide. They’re not deserters, they’ve got a reason for being there that isn’t getting high.

“We’re still fething Guard, Meryn,” said Rawne, “we’re just in a temporary bad place. So throw that shit away and start observing the chain of command, or I’ll have Leyr shoot you with his ridiculously big rifle. No, no, worse than that. I’ll have Cant mow you down with his stubber. Then there’d be shame involved.” 2nd favorite moment in the book.

“Then the stakes changed again. Suddenly. The Archenemy is here, mamzel. Here on Balhaut. He’s got his hands in the guts of this world, and he’s going to keep twisting until it hurts.” At least he’s polite?

“Right now, I need to trust someone, and he’s the only bastard I can think of.” Cliffhanger! And Rawne decides to trust someone.

[popculturebuffet]

The Loud House Reviews: Ghosted!

Halloween Havoc returns! Lori is haunted by a ghost and brings in LIncoln and Clyde ot fix things.. only to find out he’s actually the beloved school mascot and must enlist Lucy and her crew of goths to help her. The bar from the overlook hotel, 1900′s disco, and Boris, the best loud house character i’d never heard of all insue. All hail boris, and prepare for full review with spoilers. under the cut. 

We’re back! I’m sorry this is a week late. This is both due to having a LOT going on.. as well as my own fault for pushign this review back to do a review of the first episode of Starkid’s “Nightmare Time”.. only to have to push BOTH back after I was unable to finish this weeks’ Ducktales on Monday because I ended up having to get off it so my mom, who works from home, can use it, and because AT&T is an utter nightmare we’re thankfully leaving, so if nothing else that will hopefully never be an issue again. 

TLDR: I kept putting this one off, didn’t realize this week’s episode was in fact on this week, and now I have to get 5 reviews done in the span of three days: I have this episode, this week’s loud house, the amphibia halloween special, and reviews of Ducktales “The Duck Knight Returns” and the first darkwing duck episode “Darkly Dawns the Duck”. 

I kid, this blog will end as I too hope to end.. taking rusty and Zach with me. But i got myself into this mess and i’m getting myself out of it. I will get these done even if it kills me.. my ghost can then take care of the two fictional children. ON with the review!

We open at Fairway University. 

I had to. Lori is practicing for the big tournament coming up.. which normally would have me super excited as tournaments are my shit... but we’re not talking two people beating the shit out of each other, wether it be for the sport of it, because their master told them to, because one of htem is a demon who will end the world, or because their loved ones will be murdered if they don’t beat people up as a team for demons, nor people playing card games for their grandpa’s soul, or a grudge caused by an abusive childhood that leads to a battle over gods inside trading cards, or because the school decided why not, or because you need to both keep your godlike dragon that’s also in a card and your friends safe, or.. you get the idea. I love Anime tournaments in what anime I have watched. Me watching or reading of those is like coke to me... a golf tournament however?

Yeah i’m not big into non-wrestling sports in general, let alone one where hte main action is a ball went really far. I mean it IS impressive a golfer can do that and accuratley no less, that’s some Hawkeye level stuff, it’s just not for me. I do HIGHLY enjoy mini golf, and mini golf episodes as both simpsons and gravity falls episodes on that are a good time. I mean any episode that gets flanders to say this is worth at least one watch. 

And thanks to fond memories of my grandpa using them to get around his carnival, yes my grandpa owned a carnival and yes it was great and yes he was a great man and I miss him every day, and carting me around in them. If it were street legal i’d have one. And finally I LOVE happy gilmore. While Adam Sandler took a turn, and hopefully Hubie Halloween is a sign that long national nightmare is over, that film still holds up and is still REALLY damn funny. And by this point your probably wondering what the hell my point is.  Well the hell my point is is that in light of me liking golf related things for weird reason despite praying for death but death won’t come at the thought of watching actual golf, I love fairway university. I love the fact that a golf based college is credible, I love the fact it goes so far in it’s theme that the text books are all golf related, the dorms are all weirdly golf themed, and students apparently can get an arnold palmer at any time of night. I also assume the dorms have on demand streaming for happy gilmore and caddyshack, and a genisis with a copy of lee carvillo’s putting challenge.  Back on the actual episode at long last, Lori is putting in some driving practice and facetiming bobby. The reason the tournament is so important is that she needs to beat the evil elf Malketh at golf or else Suryr will end all life... I may of been reading walt simsons’s thor lately but admit it you would watch that. No it’s more mundane than a fire giant trying to commit universal genocide: Being the only freshman on the team, as in that good, if she dosen’t do well, she might loose her scholarship. Granted I DOUBT they’d take it away after one game, but it’s understandable why she fears loosing it: She can’t afford college any other way. Her parents finances are spread among 11 kids who all live comofrtably and while every loud would gladly give things up so she could go to college still.. Lori wouldn’t accept it. She’d be grateful.. but she wouldn’t have her family be miserable for her sake, even if it’s her dream. This is her one shot for the career she wants and loosing this would destroy her. Even if she’d still have Bobby.  But Bobby is pulled away because his customers are annoyed.. and by customers I mean just Vito.. the rest seem fine despite the line, who complalins his spumoni is melting... because apparently he can’t just have bobby get him a fresh one as Bobby would be happy to do because he’s made of pure joy and it was nice seeing him. Though I do hope to see him in college himself next season. It is WEIRD having the casagrandes season 1 paired with a season of the loud house taking place months later.. and having the halloween episode for season 2 show up months ahead of season 2 itself. 

But soon Lori has bigger problems than Bobby having to go or crushing loss... after consulting the school gopher, because the dean apparently really loves caddyshack as ANY dean of a golfiing school should. I forgot to mention it above but I freaking love that movie too. Good stuff. Back on point, Lori soon gets stalked by a g-g-g-host! And nope this ain’t no party, this ain’t no disco, this ain’t no fooling around.. nor is it a scooby doo esque scheme. This is an actual ghost. Represented by a ball of light but .. yup they went there. And look I get the show breaks from reality a lot: Luann acts like the silver age joker once a year and gets away with it, Lisa gets up to dexter’s lab esque shenanigans on an episodic basis, and Girl Jordan isn’t part of the group despite clearly sharing their intrests and being intrested in both lincoln and stella.  There are stretches in reality.. but mostly for humor or because it’d make a good plot. Most of the plots are grounded in reality: From Luna’s entire romance arc, with her insecurities and her and sam’s worries about each other, to Luaan’s nervousness about her first kiss, to Lincoln and friends having to learn that sometimes a girl dosen’t want to date you just because their nice to you, to Lynn learning not to be a dick and hten forgetting it overnight because this show hates me, the show grounds wacky shenanigans in relatable slice of life stuff. It’s what makes it and it’s sister show work so well. Grounding the exagerated comedy with likeable relatable characters. IT’s what works.  Why I bring this up is this and family bonding show a possible trend of the show getting into more bizzare stuff. A ghost here, a secret agent there.. it means the loud world can get as insane as it wants and the reason I bring it up is simple: Is that a GOOD thing. And my opinon, it CAN be if used right. With Family Bonding the fact there are Secret Agents is just.. casually mentioned. Like yup james bond esque spies exist and have weather dominators and an 11 year old just stopped them. It’s just.. treated like a normal thing when it’s not. Here.. a ghost showing up.. is treated like someone suddenly finding out ghosts are fucking real. Lori slowly comes unraveled a bit as the first few minutes go: She deals with seeing a ghost glow on the range, having the ghost drop books on her in the library, and having it serve her an arnold palmer.. in what genuinely looks like the bar from the overlook hotel from the shining. 

I get it’s a deliberate shout out, especially since it’s bartender is a ghost. But it just raises so many questions: Was it a concidence or did whoever put this bar in really love the shining? Did he want teenagers to murder their wives and children? Did he? Is this building haunted and not just by the genearl ghost that haunts everything? Did they take this from the overlook since it didn’t burn down in the movie? Does this mean shining and loud house are the same universe and by the same token so is community and the casagrandes? WHy is a tea with lemonade called an arnold palmer? But yeah after breaking down in her room Lori can’t take being stalked by a ghost and does what 80% of people in a paranomal activity film take too long to do and calls a ghost hunter. Specifically clyde! And to my shock this is apparently the first time the two have interacted since season 2! And it shows.. their on perfectly fine terms, to the point she has his number and they can talk like humans. I like it.. it’s subtle. Again wouldv’e appricated the episode where he got over here being more finte, but still, this is better than him either passing out in his own master roshi esque blood or trying to get her to leave bobby because bobby is a saint. The worst he’s done is break up with someone because her brother made his sister cry, when none of that makes any sense but he’s dumn and noble enough i’ll allow it, and telling sergio never to come back, which his show framed as a bad thing but really I would two after two minutes with him. 

She called Clyde because he’s the brains behind the outfit... but Clyde has her on speaker. Wah wah wah. Their watching ARRRGH! The ghost adventuers style show that showed up in an episode I never saw but read about. Wah wah wah indeed, but it was apparenlty made up. Why their still into it I dunno, but apparently argh ghost blasters ARE ACTUAL LASER GUNS. This show has gone enitrely off the rails and i’m fine with that. As long as it’s funny. But seriously who gives out actual proton packs I ask you your just asking for some kid to blast himself in the face. But yeah Clincoln McCloud is on the case. And while i’m still annoyed they didn’t bring at least two more friends to play ghostbusters, presumibly stella because she’s the compitent one and Zach because he could NOT belivie in something for a change and tha’td be funny. I know i’m beating a dead horse but it dosen’t HAVE to be all or nothing with their friend groups. You do know that right writers?

I mean I get only using them here as opposed to family bonding, but still, if you can use LIam outside of his episodes you can use the rest of them.. and I don’t even like Zach but he’d be in his element here. It’s not complicated but it is frustrating.  Anyways the boys and Lynn Sr arrive with Lynn Sr making a scene.. which embarasses Lori but i’m on his side here. His oldest went to college. She left the nest. It’s a lot. Plus she apparently hasn’t visted home yet so he misses his baby. Just accept it. She also asked the boys to be subtle about their ghost hunting which does not work at all. Lori you knew who you were asking for this. It’s like asking Sterling Archer NOT to be sarcastic, loud and slightly hammered. It’s part of the process.  Natrually hyjinks insue as our heroes chase the ghost with the most... on this campus.. and end up shaming him into leaving. Yes really. Clyde even says that’s what usually works on him. Oh Clyde.. if that were true you would’ve stopped trying to break up two people clearly in love with each other for your own benift, you twit.  So problem solved right, ghost busted, no more stalking and no lori turning into a monster and ushering in 80 sequels with no real resolution right? 

Yeah I mean this is a half hour special. Everyone at Fairway starts playing off, and it turns out because they realized the ghost was missing. Yes.. everyone knew the ghost was real. Thankfully given this is a halloween episode fairway isn’t some kind of rosemary’s baby, midsommar, herditary, paranomal activity , god a lot of movies use this death cult scenario. That we’re aware of Lori may just not be the target. The team captain takes Lori aside to explain things: They normally don’t tell freshman this until after their first game because the plot says so, but Fairway has a ghost. And again what makes this work is the guy does realize people might not belivie this and while normal for the students of fairway, it’s not normal for everyone and they might not belivie in it.  But no turns out the ghost is beloved 1900′s era Caddy, Shanks Bogey, who in the moment that cemented him as a legend singelhandidly helped Fairway to a big comeback in their first tournament ever, and was given a permanent positoin after graduation. Because they train caddy’s here too which makes sense. And now his ghost lives there too and still helps to this day. OR did anyway. Now why he coudln’t of told her this or why they don’t check to make sure one of the students dosen’t bring ghost hunters around or an exorcist or ash williams?

This episode already runs on nonsense i’m just going with it. Point is LOri’s hair’s falling out, more apparenlty, from the stress as she retreats into her hoodie.. Clyde gave her one to protect her because ARRRRGH! is really freaking shameless apparently. While LIncoln dosen’t know how to put a ghost back luckily Lucy has the mortuariy club over and LIncoln sends them over. Also Lori dosen’t want dad driving them, but Lincoln was on speaker which.. yeah Clyde I might get, the only person he’d probably want privacy with is his girlfriend, he and Lincoln have the exact same running crew but lincoln has 10 other people int he house who may eevesdrop.  But hell yeah, it’s my first Lucy episode on the blog and my first with her club period. For Lucy she IS one of the sisters I like I just haven’t checked out her episodes since season 2,a nd that’s my fault and something I intend to correct. She’s adorably, hilarious in her creepiness, and endearing in how she feels ignored at itmes.. because she is. They also ALL can apparently do her suddenly sneak up on people batman schtick as they all pop up on lincoln when he mentions a ghost. But yeah I love she has her own adams family esque group of goths, and that one of them is a Haiku from an earlier episode. While he and clyde hitting it off went nowhere it IS nice for the show to actually bring back an earlier character they entirely forgot about. It’s very rare for them. 

But yeah I already like these guys, arriving in coffisn and accidently sending my new faviorite borris flying.. a boy who talks like dracula, looks like an orlock and talks in the third person, though he ends up completing a cheer pyramid, because as an intentional joke or not, fairway , a school for a sport built on quite conversation... has a cheers squad. But hey we get boris talking about his hollow bones and cheering out of it so we’re good. 

But now the goth gang can get down to business. They try the obvious first a séance which.. yeah if bill and ted and beetlejuice have taught me anything, Seance’s can only end in friendly ghost murder. Granted unlike Otho I think Lucy knows what she’s doing, I just don’t want Shanks to die. This dosen’t quite work as while there is some bubbles it’s just Froggy 2 who apparently goes here when he’s not with adelaide. Good for him, getting some higher book learning. That’s rare for frogs. Though the faces on the Club are priceless as they are adorable. 

Plan B is to set out Shank’s faviorite food, Ferminted Bean Meal.. which yes is both to set up a fart joke and may or may not exist. He also liked pigs in a blanket, which is a good gag. Lori asks why theyd idn’t go with that I say they simply did because these are professional Goths, and they will always go for the weirdest option possible. It’s who you signed on for lori. You could’ve just called the fentons at the start of this but no, no crossover for us. And yes it’d be butch heartman free but as far as I’m concerned he can go fuck himself for, most among a LARGE pile of him being a jackass, promoting faith healing seminars that among serious illnesses.. include autisim, aka equating what I have to things like alhimers and cancer. No joke there just screw him, don’t screw danny phantom it’s great, moving on.  They intend for shanks to eat it but Lori’s teamates do instead as does the one club member who has weird hair that really unernves me. I get it’s supposed to be spider like but still, the rest of the club is really well designed, including him minus the hair. Why this why. They all get stomach poisoning and blame Lori for it despite, you know, eating strange food left in the middle of campus which is never a good idea, as it’s either someone’s elses or possibly spiked. What did you think was going to happen? Lucy’s last ditch effort is partying like it’s 1900. We do get the club and lori in top hats and canes with presumibly pocket’s full of miracles. So that’s neat. But it fails thanks to the cheerleaders coming in, boris very much included. Lori is desparing,.. until it turns out the disco ball which broke offers a mirror to the other side.. and thus where shanks is.. at the graveyard just off campus. Haiku finds this school creepy and wants to go there. Me too little sister, me too. 

Lori opts to go alone.. while this shit terrifies her, understandably, it was her mess and she needs to clean it up.. even though him not explaning himself to her or anyone else did this I don’t know if he can talk so fair enough. He can however caddy obviously as Lori gives him a heartfelt apology, and then plays a round, with him helping.. though apparently returning her ball also opens a doorway to hell. Go figure. Great gag though especially lori’s casual “that was disturbing”. He dosen’t give a sign he’s coming back though. Then we cut to the game.. with no real sign lori told anyone anything.. was.. was a chunk cut out of this episode or did they just run out of time? I dunno it’s jarring but the game is down to her, and Lori ends up in a sandtrap with the sun in her eyes. But luckily shanks returns! He llfts an umbrella for her. Again I think it’s less that he’s inconsiderate and more that he’s mute.. or maybe he’s just a jackass I dunno. We don’t know enough about him. Point is Lori wins, her scholarship is secure and her family is cheering her on.. well okay her family in terms of lincoln, clyde, because he counts dammit, and her parents the rest of the girls minus lucy are absent because they needed room for her club. Whose in the sun somehow. Lori wins, Boris does an exorcist head spin, and Lucy feels he’s lost to them. I mean.. he has to go home.. unless he dosen’t have one... which is probable. Man now I want a fairway spinoff even more.. I mean just give lori and bobby an off campus place, have leni and her two friends move in, maybe throw in carol and have boris living in a hole in the backyard and we’re good. Please nick, greenlight this. I will write it for you just give me the go ahead. 

Final Thoughts:

This one was okay. As I said the reality breaks are fine if their used for good reaosn, but I felt the episode put Lori though a bit much. She hasn’t been unsympathetic in so long, and she has a genuine heartwrenching reason to want to do well and is terrified of shanks. It’s not her fault no one told her. I mean that should be in the brochure “We have a ghost but he’s a casper ghost and not a gozer ghost so your good”. I mean the fact Jack Fenton HASN’T come blaring down the campus is only because he already did that and is banned from campus. that and he drove through the comisary.. like through both walls. The Fenton Van is thick.  Point is lori goes through a lot of pain and humilation for no reason. It also feels like a two parter put into one half hour: The first half has a problem that’s seemingly solved only to have a cliffhanger with Lucy coming in as the solution. That being said I aboslutely love the mortuariy club. Why they can’t repalce spider head with rocky I don’t know, but otherwise I love em. Especailly boris who i’m fine with him staying at fairway as long as I get that spinoff> The Clyde and LIncoln antics are just “ha ha their mech dosen’t work”.. when they still have rayguns as part of the merch, though I do appricate that them running out of power is set up: Their guns discharge as a running gag so it’s no suprise their out by the time our heroes need them. And Clyde’s line about shame and guilt “Just like me!” was gold. This dosen’t really have the missed opprtunity smell of family bonding or strife of the party, it did fine enough and the scene of lori and shanks playing golf was really sweet.  It really is just okay: Not AMAZING, but not terrible. I’ve seen much worse already this season, but the creative halloweeny premise, fun with the goth gang, and general weirdness of fairway make it a hole in two. Not a slam dunk but still fun. Just because an episode is mostly okay dosen’t make it bad.  If you liked this review follow for more, as I have weekly coverage of ducktales and loud house and ocasionally the casagrandes and later today should have, space and time permitting, reviews of the new loud house, the new amphibia, and later this weekend some darkwing duck. Until then stay safe, stay spooky and happy halloween. Play us out white stripes!

[sifanjewel]

My OCs: Zela’s family

Here are some descriptions of my beloved OC Zela’s parents, her brother and sister, and a slightly more detailed summary of Iryn!

I also have stuff written for Iryn’s siblings, as well, but they will have their own post.

I should also note that these are personality/backstory descriptions. I’m still working on the sketches for these characters so there's nothing about their physical descriptions. Yet. 

Side note: To have and idea of Zela’s sibling’s ages, she’s 23 at the start of the Resistance

Shal’un

Shal’un is a proud Sifan Gelfling, born and raised in Cera-Na. In his younger trine, he was a hard worker who repaired ships and learned to be a skilled fisherman at a young age. He also, like most Sifan, had many out-at-sea adventures with his Samuadren family, and if he wasn’t out on a ship or repairing one, he was constructing his own windship for the Hooyim Boat Races, which he took part in every single year. 

His adventures, however, ended with a horrific storm out at sea that caused his ship to sink. He had been the only survivor. He was rescued, but the memories of that night kept him in Cera-Na. He still gladly repairs damaged ships, but now only fishes in close range of the shore, and his Hooyim racing days are long behind him. It’s not only his traumatic memories that keep him close to land, but the family he now provides for. Though he may no longer participate in the hectic life of the Sifa, he is forever proud of his clanship and teaches that same pride to his children.

Lana

Before joining the Sifa, Lana was a young, fun-loving Stonewood girl with expertise in archery and wilderness survival skills. She lived in a smaller settlement within the Endless Forest, but visited Stone-in-the-Wood on a frequent basis and spent many-a-day and night partying at the brew fountain with her friends. She had been content with her life to remain that way, until one day her friends suggested they all take a trip North, particulalrly to the Port between Ha’rar and Cera-Na. They all wanted to get a taste of the adventerous ways of the Sifa.

Lana gladly went along and ended up enjoying the trip, but not quite how she’d expected to. While at a pub within the Port, she caught the eye of a handsome Sifan fisherman. Shal’un and Lana spent nearly the entire night talking and continued to stay in touch long after Lana and her friends returned to the Endless Forest. Six unum of writing back and forth and two more visits to the docks later, Lana finally accepted her heart’s call to remain by the sea with her lover. The day she moved to Cera-Na Shal’un asked her to marry him and she glaldy accepted. Their union officiated her Sifan clanship and Zela was born shortly after. Since then Lana has fully accepted the Sifan ways of life and takes every aspect of their culture into appreciation, even Far-Dreaming and soothsaying, though she has neither such abilities. She misses the Endless Forest from time-to-time, but she has not once regretted her decision to live the rest of her days on the coast, surrounded by family until the day Thra calls her home.

Mar

Mar is Zela’s younger brother by seven trine. Mar shares the same clan pride as his parents, even as young as he is, though he is less interested in the fishing and ship-repairing business Shal’un urges him into and would rather spend his time dream-etching and story-telling if he’s not messing around on the docks with his friends. 

Mar appreciates his Sifan and Stonewood heritage, but if he had a choice to join the Dousan, he would. He’s always intrigued by the Dousan whenever they come into Port to trade with the Sifa. He’s always been captivated by their looks and what little he knows about their culture, even with the supposed “death-worshipping” aspect of it. He hopes to one day visit the Crystal Desert when he’s older and learn more about them. He even half-jokingly mentioned getting Dousan-style tattoos, much to the horror of his parents.

Tida

Tida is Zela’s younger sister by ten trine, making her the youngest of the three siblings. She is very much her own Gelfling, but looks up to her sister, and is often inspired by her in spite of Zela’s inability to speak. She has some of the same interests, such as making charms, drawing, and going on rock-climbing adventures along the shores. Tida especially loves making jewelery and designing her own Sifan clothing, and dreams to someday be the Maudra’s personal designer and tailor. She also loves styling hair, even when it may not always turn out quite how she imagined it.

Tida takes to the fishing business within Cera-Na a little better than her brother, but doesn’t have much more interest in it, and would more often rather have fun with her firends as any childling should. Even so, she loves helping her family however she can, and enjoys life on the docks as much as the next Sifa.

Iryn

Iryn is Zela’s beloved husband, a Drenchen who turned Sifan even before they were married. Prior to meeting Zela during a chance encounter in Stone-in-the-Wood, Iryn lived his life happily among his fellow Drenchen within Great Smerth. He was a renound hunter and accomplished warrior, well-equipped with a spear and bola at all times. In contrast to his rotund Drenchen appearance in height and muscle, Iryn is soft at heart, gentle and charming with his words even when surrounded by those of his clan who know hard-talk best. When he and Zela met, their connection was almost instant, and he had never felt a greater love for one Gelfling before, regardless of what clan she heeded from.

Iryn ranked high among the many Drenchen who took up hunting, even becoming a leader in one of the clan’s strongest hunting parties and at the peak of his trine within the group found himself in a position that granted him the ability to speak to the Maudra on a frequent basis. This was a position he had practically been trained for, as his parents were also leaders of their respective groups - most notably his father, and his father before him and so on. Iryn’s choice to join the Sifa enraged those within his hunting party, however none were more furious than his sister Navina and brother Bovahl, who expected him to carry on their parents’ legacy when they couldn’t. It broke his heart, but Iryn was forced to sever his ties with the Drenchen due to his siblings’ rejection. He never regretted his choice, however, as he of course found family among the Sifa not only through his future wife, but among those he would grow to call his friends. The Sifan practice of Era-Ianem favored him; whenever he found himself missing Sog and his estranged siblings, he would remind himself that though his sails were woven by Drenchen fabric, it was the Sifan wind that filled them.