#and Why did I pick the full complicated tree tattoos why do I do this to myself

[midnightwind]

yeah the Vallaslin sure is making me want to scream while I try to simplify it

[snelbz]

Tempting the Fates {Chapter 1}

Summary: It’s the final semester of Aelin Galathynius’ collegiate career and she is so beyond ready to be done. Her schedule is packed full of nursing classes and labs designed to test her knowledge and hone her skills for the real world and her “big girl” job. However, she needs one last elective to graduate, so she decides to study a subject she’s always been fascinated by: Mythology. Who would have thought that a class about gods and goddesses living complicated lives would end up complicating her own in such an unexpected way?

A/N: Fun fact about this one, y’all. I wrote the first chapter over 3 years ago and it was for a completely different story. This one has evolved on it's own and Tara and I are so excited to finally share it with you.

Word Count: 3493

Chapters will be posted every Wednesday.

Tempting the Fates Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist 

Zeus

– King of the gods and ruler of Mount Olympus; god of the sky, lightning, thunder and law.

The waves lapped against the sand as Aelin sighed. Strong hands rubbed the muscles in her back and worked out the kinks in her neck as the warm sun heated her body. The smell of the salt water filled her senses and she settled into the cushioned chaise. Another set of hands set a fruity looking drink with a little pink umbrella on the table next to her head. She smiled at it.

“Can we get you anything else, miss?”

Aelin opened her mouth to tell them exactly what they could do to her.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Aelin’s eyes snapped open and she glared at her phone, chiming at her to get up.

She groaned, reaching for the offending device and silenced it, pulling her pillow over her head. She began to doze back off when her bedroom door flew open, smacking into the dresser on the wall behind it. She sat bolt upright and found her roommate leaning against the doorframe, a bowl of cereal in her hands and a gleam of mischief in her emerald eyes.

“Rise and shine, princess,” Lysandra drawled. Aelin just continued to scowl at her roommate. The bright warmth of the sun in her dream faded away as she looked out the window. Ice coated it and she could see a fresh layer of snow coated everything. “Aedion is about to be up, too. If you’d like any chance of taking a warm shower before class today, I’d suggest-.”

She was up and in the hallway before Lysandra could even finish her sentence.

Thirty minutes later, she sat on the kitchen counter, hair wrapped up in a towel, eating an apple and going over her schedule for the thousandth time. Her four classes were split into two days each, mercifully giving her Friday off.

Her cousin, long golden hair tied into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, came into the kitchen, pulling the jug of milk out of the fridge. He leaned on the counter across from her and drank straight from the plastic bottle, glaring daggers at her.

“Can I help you with something,” she asked him sweetly.

“You used the last of the hot water,” Aedion sulked, taking another swig.

She looked over, blowing him a quick kiss. “Maybe you should have gotten up earlier.”

He rolled his eyes, identical to her own, and came over to look at her computer screen. “What classes do you have this semester?”

She scrolled down the list, reading them off. “Pathophysiology, Caring for the Childbearing Family, Health and Gerontology, a few labs, and Mythology.”

Aedion’s eyebrows pulled together as she read the last one. “That doesn’t seem like it will be very helpful to a nurse.”

She shrugged, closing the laptop and sliding off the counter. “I needed one last elective. I’ve always been interested in Greek and Roman mythology and it’s a freshman level class. I figured why not study something for fun for once?”

He couldn’t fault her logic and began pulling ingredients out of the fridge to cook breakfast as Aelin headed back towards her bedroom. “Whatever you’re cooking, make two,” she called over her shoulder. She didn’t even need to look back to know the obscene gesture being flicked in her direction.

-------------------

Aelin was regretting studying something fun for once as she looked at the map of her classes.

All of her classes, save for one, were in the nursing building. Of course, that one other class was all the way across campus, in one of the general education buildings. At least walking there would take her right past her favorite coffee shop on campus and with an eight am every Tuesday and Thursday morning, she knew she’d take full advantage of that.

Thankfully today was a Monday, so she’d be spending the entirety of her day in the nursing building. But first, she had to have coffee. The first day of the semester required coffee.

Aelin parked in one of the student lots close to the nursing building. Throwing her leather bag over her shoulder, she slammed her car door. It was absolutely freezing and she suppressed a growl as she saw soft white flakes drifting toward the ground.

What a great way to start off the semester, she thought.

She made her way across campus, hands deep in her pockets and face buried in her scarf. As she crossed the quad, she pulled her phone out to check the time. She still had about twenty minutes to get coffee and get to class. Snow crunched under her boots as she picked up the pace, wanting to be sure she made it on time. Aelin was big on first impressions.

As she approached the door of the café, she reached for the handle, but the door swung open suddenly, slamming into her and knocking her off her feet.

The young girl, eyes wide, apologized profusely but said that she had to get to class and ran off. Aelin was mumbling something about where the freshman could go, when she heard a deep chuckle and a tan, tattooed hand appeared in front of her face. She glanced up and the air was pulled from her lungs.

The owner of the hand was a handsome man in his mid-twenties, with hair the color of the snow swirling around his head and green eyes. Not emerald like Lysandra’s, but deep and rich like a pine tree. A tattoo, similar to the one on his hand, snaked up his neck and onto his face. She’d be willing to bet it ran down the whole length of his arm. She’d love to find out for herself. He smiled at her, a wicked, beautiful smile. She could only stare at the gorgeous stranger as she gripped her hand in his. He lifted her to her feet.

“You okay?” He asked. Aelin nodded, pulling her hand out of his. He opened the door and motioned for her to go ahead of him. She stepped into the delicious warmth and immediately got her wits back.

“I’m Aelin,” she said, giving him a man eater’s smile.

“Rowan,” he said, a slight incline of his head in acknowledgment.

“Thank you, Rowan,” she said, letting his name slip out of her lips like a purr, as she’d heard Lysandra do it to her cousin many times. She knew it drove Aedion crazy and for some reason, that’s exactly what she wanted to do to this man. She walked to the line. He got in line behind her and she pulled out her phone, figuring that would be that. A bit of shameless flirting with a stranger was never a bad thing. She ordered her coffee and was surprised when the barista handed her the paper cup, a phone number written on the side. She quirked an eyebrow at the girl, who gave Aelin a knowing glance and looked over her shoulder. Aelin turned around, meeting a pine green gaze, and smiled at him. She headed back out into the frost and snow, pulling her phone out to snap a picture of the cup to send to Lysandra, knowing her best friend would love this.

Finding the classroom in the nursing building where she’d spent the bulk of the past two years was a breeze and she made it into the classroom with seven minutes to spare. She enjoyed her time with Professor Hafiza in the fall and anticipated she’d like her this semester again, too. Nonetheless, she settled in about three-quarters of the way up and looked at the coffee cup again.

Feeling bold, she entered the number into her phone and sent a quick text.

Any chance you want to sweep me off of my feet again and grab drinks later? I’m free anytime after 5:00. – Aelin.

Her phone buzzed almost immediately.

My last class lets out at 6:00 and I have to go to the gym afterward. How does 8:00 sound?

She typed a quick reply and placed her phone back on her desk.

Sounds like a date. The Beer Cellar, on Church Street.

She smirked to herself and glanced down at her watch. 9:58. Not even 10:00 am and the semester was off to a great start.

She unlocked her phone, shooting a quick text to Lysandra, letting her know about her new plans for the evening when she heard the door open and students started to hush.

It wasn’t the most exciting class, Aelin had to admit, but she supposed the information was necessary. Hopefully it wasn’t an indication of how the rest of her semester would go. She needed a little excitement in her schedule, that was for sure.

Aelin liked to be kept on her toes.

After two classes and a crappy salad for lunch from the school cafeteria, Aelin was hurrying across campus and down the street, toward her apartment. Lysandra was nowhere to be found, which meant she was either snuggled up with Aedion somewhere or still in class. Aelin’s bet was on the former.

After organizing her deskspace, Aelin went to her closet, and attempted to pick out what she should wear for the night. It was her first date of the semester, which either meant that it could be a complete win or a complete fail.

She ultimately decided that the sluttier the better.

Laying the gold dress out on her bed, she let herself into the Lysandra’s room, borrowing a pair of strappy black heels she knew her roommate would absolutely approve of and was back out the door, ready to suffer through her first lab of the semester. Three hours was going to drag by, but thankfully, it was only once a week.

And drag by it did, but Aelin wasn’t sure if it was thanks to the monotonous recap of her previous semester’s information or thinking about seeing Rowan again. She usually wasn’t so forward, even though Rowan had clearly been the one to start it all, giving her his number. But still, she typically would have at least waited a day or two before texting him.

But there was just something about him that she couldn’t get out of her head.

She grabbed her gym bag out of the car, thankful she had a bit of time to get a work out in before she went out. Thanks to tonight, Aelin was a pent up ball of energy and needed to get it out someway. After a solid forty-five minutes on the treadmill and nearly thirty on the free weights, Aelin was heading for the locker room when she noticed a silver head of hair across the gym.

She watched him as he pulled himself up on the bar, his chin going over the piece of metal each time. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, sweat poured down his chest as his arms swelled. Aelin had been right.

That tattoo went across his chest, and all the way down his arm. He did the pull-ups so effortlessly, and Aelin’s mind began to wander to unholy places.

It wasn’t until his feet hit the mat beneath him that she was brought back to reality and hurried into the locker room. If he was here, that meant their date was approaching, and she had to get ready. She checked her phone. It was nearly seven.

Aelin hurried back home and showered. She had once vowed, during her freshman year, that she would avoid the gym showers at all costs and only used them under emergency circumstances. Luckily, her and Lysandra’s apartment was only five minutes from the gym.

After a shower and a full-body shaving session, Aelin was brushing out her long, golden hair and blow drying it until it was flowing freely down her back. She kept her makeup decently simple - at least, that’s how she made it look, and straightened the slight waves out of her hair before putting on her little, golden dress.

Once she had slipped on Lysandra’s heels, she was looking at herself in the mirror and even she had to admit that she was looking hot.

After grabbing her clutch, she hurried down the hallway and into the living room, where she found Lysandra and Aedion snuggled together on the couch, watching a movie.

“Going out with a stranger?” Lysandra asked, brow raised. “I'm so proud of you.”

“Yeah, just keep it in your pants,” Aedion mumbled.

“I thought I’d bring him back here,” she said, winking at Lysandra. “You don’t want to have breakfast together tomorrow?”

“Absolutely not,” Aedion mumbled and Lysandra chuckled, leaning into his embrace.

“Have fun, call me if you need me,” Lysandra called as Aelin blew them a kiss and headed for the door.

Her Uber was waiting when she walked out front and before she knew it, she was walking down the stairs into her favorite bar. Glancing around, she didn’t see Rowan sitting at the bar or any of the booths around the room.

So she bought herself a drink and claimed one of the pool tables, setting her coat and clutch on a bar stool nearby. Over halfway through the game, she felt eyes on her and glanced up to find Rowan standing at the other end of the table. Giving him a smirk, she knocked the cue ball into the yellow-striped 9 ball. It sank into the pocket.

“Playing with yourself?” Rowan asked, and Aelin caught a slight accent that she had missed earlier.

Aelin’s grin widened. “Well, if I’m left hanging, a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do.”

Rowan breathed a laugh. “Fair enough. And if I asked to join?”

“You sure you don’t just want to watch?” she asked, leaning on the table, making sure her cleavage was perfectly visible.

Rowan’s tongue shot out and subtly licked his bottom lip. “Tempting.”

Aelin pushed herself back and grabbed the rack, starting to collect the balls. “Buy me a drink and then we’ll talk.”

Rowan bit his lip to hide his spreading grin. “Fair enough. I’ll be back.”

Aelin watched as he left, watched as he went to the bar and bought her another drink, alongside one for himself. He came back with two glasses. One was the color of the sunrise, the other a caramelly brown.

“Sex on the Beach?” Aelin asked, brow raised.

He shrugged and handed her the glass. “Sounded promising.”

“So… Rowan,” she said, letting his name drag out as she said it. He was dressed in a pair of dark jeans and the black Henley he wore made his hair seem even brighter in the dim light of the bar.

“Aelin,” he purred right back, pulling a pool stick from the wall behind her, nearly boxing her in. She realized then how much larger than her he was.

She loved it.

“I hope your coffee helped you get through the rest of your day,” she said, resetting the game and racking the balls. She glanced at him over her shoulder as she reached into the middle of the table, and he was watching her, staring at her ass.

Slutty was definitely the right option tonight.

“It certainly did, especially considering how boring it was,” he replied, reaching around her for the chalk that rested on the edge of the table. “But when I got your text, it gave me something to look forward to. Even if it made the day last twice as long.”

“Happy I could help.” She picked her drink up and stirred it, before taking a long sip through the straw.

“Would you like to break, or should I?” He asked, nodding to the pool table.

“Let’s see what you can do.”

He grunted as he stepped forward, lined up his stick, and knocked the cue ball into the others. They broke apart, but none of them fell into the pockets. Rowan stood there for a moment, his lips pursed. Meanwhile, Aelin tossed her head back and burst into laughter.

“Alright, alright,” Rowan said, straightening up and turning to face her. “So pool isn’t my thing.”

Aelin stepped up next to him and aimed her stick, leaning over the table, her ass nearly rubbed up against Rowan’s front. “Hopefully you’re better at other things.”

Rowan’s hand brushed along Aelin’s hip, just as she got ready to shoot, causing her shot to go haywire. She spun around, eyes narrowed. “That’s foul play.”

“No one said we were playing fair,” he countered.

“What about playing for drinks?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

He lifted his own eyebrows and he said, “I’ve got an eight am…”

Shrugging, she said, “So do I.” Then she leaned in close, thankful for the three-inch heels she’d pilfered from Lysandra’s closet and breathed into his ear, “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re up in time.”

“So sure of how this night is going to go,” he said quietly, just loud enough for her to hear him, and she felt his hand skimming over the curve of her ass. “Fine. We’ll play for drinks.”

It turned out Rowan hadn’t been lying about pool not being his thing. They played three games back to back, and he lost them all, but every time he returned with a drink for Aelin, he had one for himself as well. By the time she dragged him towards the small dance floor in the center of the bar, they were both stumbling and his lips found her neck before his hands even gripped her hips.

His lips were soft, gentle, nothing like she had expected. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe he was just getting tired, perhaps he was usually rough.

But, when his hands found Aelin’s hips and he brought her back into him, she felt that roughness. It seemed Rowan was the best of both worlds. Gentle when prompted, rough beneath the surface.

Aelin turned to him and slung her arms around his neck, bringing his lips to hers. Their mouths crashed into one another, and their bodies slowed until it felt like they were the only two on the dancefloor.

Rowan pulled away, just a little bit, and breathed, his eyes wild, “Aelin-.”

“Take me to your place,” she said, her mouth finding his, once again.

Before she knew what was happening, they were in the backseat of an Uber, unable to keep their hands off of one another. Thanks to it being a college town, the driver didn’t say a word, just dropped them in front of an upscale building, just off the east side of campus.

She noticed how nice it was on the short elevator ride up, but was much more preoccupied by the way his hips pressed into hers. He dragged her along the hall, his lips never leaving hers, until her back was pressed against a cool door and he was fumbling to get it unlocked. It swung wide and she gripped his collar, pulling him inside.

Throwing her clutch and coat by the door, Aelin let her hands dive into his cropped silver hair and he responded by cupping her ass and lifting her up. Her legs were around his waist and he carried her through the apartment and into his bedroom. Neither of them had any delusions about how and where this would end and Aelin felt like she was going to combust as he dropped her on the bed and gazed down at her.

His eyes were full of lust, full of hunger, a wild animal with his eye on his prey. He wasted no time stripping Aelin down and admiring her body with his hands, his tongue, his lips. Rowan may not have been good at pool, but he was right when he said he was far better at other things.

He worshipped her, and Aelin knew it wasn’t the alcohol when she was sent into utter bliss.

When he rolled off of her, breath still uneven, Aelin watched as he dealt with the condom and fell back into the bed beside her.

She cleared her throat. “I can go…if you want me to.”

Rowan turned to look at her, and she could tell he was still just as drunk as she was. “What? No, of course not. You said you’ve got an eight am, too, right?” She nodded and he tugged on her hand, pulling her closer to him. They were both still gloriously naked and she could feel the heat radiating off of his body. “Then we can both make sure the other is up so we aren’t late. Or too hungover.”

Aelin snorted softly, resting her head on his chest. “I think that particular ship has sailed.”

“You’re probably right,” he mumbled and she could tell he was already starting to doze. She was on the brink of sleep herself.

Aelin decided then, as her eyes closed, that she didn’t care if she was hungover in the morning, or if she was late to her eight am. A night being praised by Rowan had been perfectly worth it.

[roniscloud]

dhs - pillow fort

do hanse [f. requested, 1382 words] pillow fort

“i still can’t believe you’re dragging me out for some party. you know i don’t do parties.” you can’t help but feel annoyed as you force yourself out of the passenger’s seat. the look on your face only showing a playful irritation as you turn to your best friend, bomi.

she looks back at you and says teasingly, “but you do care about your friends. besides, it’s my birthday. you’re not getting out of this.”

“fine… only because it’s your birthday.” the two of you head closer to the entrance of the cabin. the cool breeze rustling through the trees, the milky fog emitting from the water, and the scenic views surrounding you help ease your mood. your best friend, bomi, to put it frankly, is loaded. she decided to rent out a huge property right on the lake-front to celebrate her birthday—inviting your entire extended friend group, roughly a dozen and a half people. you weren’t exactly the closest to every single one of them but the overall dynamic of the group always made things entertaining. making your way through the double doors into the large space, you recognize the familiar faces already there. you scan the living room with a small smile as you wave quickly at a few that you make eye contact with. you start to think to yourself maybe this weekend won’t be that bad, until…

“what the actual hell is he doing here?” the urgency in your hushed whisper making it evident to bomi you spotted a certain someone.

“well it would’ve been rude to not invite him,” the words coming out in a maternal manner. “both of you are my friends, i wanted to spend time with both of you. it’s not like i’m forcing you to be in the same room.”

you stare at her with a dead expression, blinking a few times as if to see if she’s joking. “that’s literally what you’re doing. i get that you’re older than me but the mom tone is only pissing me off more.” 

“ok fine… that’s on me. just avoid him, have some drinks, have some fun, and all will be ok,” she attempts to convince you.

do hanse. the man, the myth, the tattooed and pierced jerk who manages to boil your blood at the mere thought of him. bomi trying to convince you of staying the entire weekend with your enemy—well he’s not really your enemy… in all honesty, you’re not sure what to classify him as. all you know is that each of your interactions have not been pleasant—by getting drunk was the only thing keeping you from stealing her car and driving off the nearest cliff.

the hours pass as more guests arrive. there seems to be a silent agreement by you and hanse to avoid each other, so far the plan working well. the night continues on until the dark sky envelops everyone and sleepiness washes over the group, you being one of the last to actually head upstairs. luckily bomi told you that everyone had their assigned rooms, albeit some of them you saw in other places on your way up. you reach out your hand to turn the doorknob of your bedroom, expecting an empty bed that you could finally take your rest on. 

“you have got to be kidding me. what are you doing in my room?”

hanse flinches at your sudden appearance. “this is your room? i’m screwed.” 

“why are you here? i thought you were sharing a room with seungwoo.”

“byungchan and chan took over. now all three of them are there. sejun and seungsik are bunking and i don’t want to deal with sik’s sleepwalking. subin took over the couch and all the other rooms are full.”

you let out an exasperated sigh. “then what do you expect us to do? share the bed?”

“i was kinda hoping that… i promise i won’t do anything. i just want to get some sleep.” he sounds exhausted with a hint of nervousness.

“fine. i’m gonna be in the bathroom. just pick one side and stay there.” you see him nod at your words as you grab your stuff out of your bag and head to get ready for bed. as you brush your teeth, you hear some rustling of sheets. it hits you. you actually are about to share a bed with the person you despise most. you convince yourself to go through with it, reminding yourself that it’s only one night. you’ll survive… you open the bathroom door, entering back into the bedroom to find hanse in bed with a not so typical set-up. “seriously? what is this supposed to be?”

hanse lifts his head from the mattress, “a pillow fort. duh.” he says matter-of-factly as he points at the stack of pillows lined down the center of the bed. “you said pick a side so that’s exactly what i did.”

“you’re actually a child,” you said condescendingly. 

“whatever. goodnight, then.” he lays down again, closing his eyes and effectively ending the conversation.

you stand there, hesitating to take another step. when the initial fear finally leaves you, you make your way to the bed. your hands slowly lift the comforter and you catch hanse slightly shift. you make your way under the covers, trying to not move the bed too much to the best of your abilities. you stare at the ceiling, the drowsiness you felt earlier gone. you feel a shift again.

“you still up?” hanse, now quietly asks, him too staring at the blank ceiling. 

you give him an affirming hum. you lie there together in silence. yet, you don’t feel awkward. it’s weird, but not awkward. the minutes pass without any sort of noise coming from either of you. this time you’re the one to move around, removing the pillow directly between your heads. you turn to face him and ask, “why do you hate me?”

his immediate response is to turn to you with a confused face, scrunching his eyebrows. he sees your serious expression and realizes it’s a genuine question. “i don’t hate you. we just… don’t get along.”

“why?�� you pause again, contemplating whether to bring up the past until ultimately deciding to say screw it and say, “we used to be friends.”

“we were. you were supposed to be my friend. that’s all…that’s all I ever asked of you, to be my friend, to care. we were good but then more people joined and it got complicated.”

“what do you mean by that?”

he looks back up, “we stopped spending time with each other and we just… we just didn’t have that bond anymore. we got too busy for each other, life happened, and we changed. whenever we saw each other, we never talked. we got snappy and it all went to shit.”

you think back on all the times you avoided him, all the times you made bitter comments and petty remarks. “i’m sorry.”

you don’t hear any response from him for several moments. “i’m sorry too.” his voice coming out very softly, no animosity.

what happened after was a blur, vaguely recalling a longer conversation of old memories being told and hushed laughs in attempts to not wake the others in neighboring rooms. the next morning, you’re woken by bomi and seungwoo. you hear seungwoo say something about getting dressed for breakfast and hear bomi giggling under her breath. you rub your eyes to getter a better view of the situation and see an arm slung over your waist. you groggily tell them that you’ll be down soon and to give you a few minutes. they finally leave the room and you turn to face the owner of the arm. you gently shake hanse awake, giving him a few seconds to realize that he’s cuddling you. he sluggishly asks, “what time is it?”

“past nine. the others are having breakfast downstairs. we need to get up.”

“fine.” he hums although with reluctance. “you know… i think that was the best sleep i’ve gotten in a long time.” you chuckle at his comment, snuggling your head against his chest once more. “does this mean we’re friends again?”

“i think so…”

“does this mean we can be sleeping buddies?”

“only if that involves actually sleeping.”

“no promises.”

originally written: 24 may 2021

[recurring-polynya]

Hi Polynya! I’m curious and in the spirit of Ginrei’s birthday, what do you think are his opinions of Rukia and Renji separately and together?

Ha ha, this is such a simple and straightforward question and my answer is going to be so long and so complicated and have almost nothing to do with Rukia and Renji because Ginrei's feelings toward Rukia and Renji have almost nothing to do with Rukia and Renji.

So, I want to start out by saying that Ginrei is a lot like Hisana in the sense that he's a canon character, we get the idea of him and what he's there for, but there's no actual characterization of him, which gives fanfic writers a tremendous amount of leeway to do whatever they want with him. I'm not going to try to justify anything I say here, it's just my ideas and how it goes in my fanfiction. I love it whenever a writer tries to take on the Kuchiki clan and I'm always interested to see what other people's takes are, even when they vary wildly from my own.

I love the fact that "Kuchiki" means "dead tree." We meet Rukia first, and it's sort of a delightfully spoopy name, very appropriate for this salty, overdramatic, grim reaper girl, but it takes on additional meaning when we meet Byakuya, the noble and powerful scion of a dying house.

The thing that makes Ginrei interesting as a character to me is that he is the one who ruled over his house as it fell. I tend to regard filler episodes as semi-canon, so I like the idea of Kouga, even if I don't want to acknowledge the rest of the Zanpakutou Rebellion shenanigans. I think that the main line of the Kuchiki was already running a little thin, Soujun's health was a big concern, and so they marry in this guy who is a scholar and a powerful shinigami. They never say what Kouga's previous social status was, but given that they emphasize what an accomplished dude he is, I think he was chosen for his skills, not his lineage, to strengthen the Kuchiki bloodline, except it backfires. Then Soujun dies, too, a few years later.

Ginrei strikes me as the type of leader who thinks he can control everything. He manages his clan with an iron fist. He is pragmatic, not sentimental. He’s not bad or mean, but he can see that he does not have a lot of room for missteps, and he takes his role very, very seriously. Despite this, he’s lost the generation under him, and all that he has left is Byakuya. There are cousins and branch families, but to the pride of the Kuchiki is its main line, descended from great generals and heroes and the very founders of Soul Society. Byakuya, in a lot of ways, hearkens back to the great Kuchiki of old, and Ginrei sees that he has the potential to reclaim the power and glory of his house. He’s hard on Byakuya and has high expectations for him. Ginrei loved his son and he loves his grandson, but after Soujun’s death, he often wonders if he was too soft on him because of his health, if Soujun would have lived if Ginrei had just expected more of him. Byakuya is the last hope of the Kuchiki and Ginrei knows he can achieve great things, and Ginrei is determined to do everything in his power to make sure Byakuya achieves his full potential.

And some ways, Byakuya is the perfect Kuchiki. He’s strong and he’s hard-working. He’s principled. He’s working on his self-control, and he’s very good at when it comes, to say, sword practice, he’s just not so good at in when it comes to interpersonal relations, but he’s coming along. Then he meets Hisana.

Hisana is absolutely unacceptable to Ginrei. Byakuya needs a marriage with a woman with strong spiritual pressure and a noble lineage so that he can gain some alliances from the marriage and then she can pop out some strapping young heirs while also managing his social life for him, just like Ginrei’s wife did for him. Hisana obviously isn’t going to check any of these boxes.

I headcanon Byakuya as demisexual, in the sense that he doesn’t experience sexual attraction very often, and if he does, it’s only to someone he’s already got strong feelings for. He was sort of okay with the vague idea of marrying someone for the purposes of procreating until he met Hisana and realized how much that would pale in comparison to actually being married to the love of his life.

Up until this point, Byakuya has had some minor rebellions against Ginrei, but they’ve never really gone at it, but this is one time that Byakuya stands firm. Ginrei is super-pissed. He lets Byakuya marry her because he figures she’s going to die soon anyway, but he’s mad about it. He never comes around to Hisana and he’s mean to her and this is really the nadir of Byakuya and Ginrei’s relationship.

Finally, we are getting around to what you asked. Hisana dies and Ginrei softens a little toward Byakuya in his grief. He retires and turns the clan and Squad 6 over to B, hoping it will be a distraction and that Byakuya will finally turn his focus over to what matters. This seems to be going well for about one year and then BAM! Byakuya acquires an orphan.

I am guessing that Ginrei didn’t know about Byakuya’s promise to Hisana to take care of Rukia, but even so, I think if you asked him, he would have regarded Byakuya’s duty to his clan and promise to his parents as more important. It’s not that Ginrei isn’t an honorable man, it’s that his concept of honor doesn’t necessarily extend to a dead peasant in comparison the Noble and Ancient House of Kuchiki. So Byakuya adopts Rukia and Ginrei’s immediate reaction is panic. What is Byakuya doing? Is he going to marry this girl? Is he going to name her his Heir? Has he cracked? And it turns out to be none of those things, he’s just going to keep her around as this sad ghost that haunts his house, but Ginrei’s initial reaction toward Rukia is that of interloper. He thought this Hisana nonsense was overwith, but no, we’re still doing this.

When Ginrei first meets Rukia, she is in her overwhelmed, lonely stage of first becoming a Kuchiki. Ginrei also criticizes her for being small and meek and basically useless. She’s a mediocre shinigami. She’s not beautiful or talented, so Byakuya can’t even marry her off for political gain. The real issue, though is that Rukia is just emblematic of the fact that Byakuya doesn’t intend to move past his grief and remarry. He works his ass off as Captain and Clan Head, but other than that, he’s just gonna be a sad widower and sit in his big house and write letters to his dead wife and the Kuchiki are going to die off. There is really nothing Rukia could do, no way she could be different that Ginrei would approve of, because it was never really about her in the first place.

Fast forward a few years, and now we come to Renji. I also headcanon that in his retirement, Ginrei has moved out to a scenic portion of Rukongai, so he doesn’t interact with Byakuya much on a day-to-day basis, but he hears stuff through other family members that come out to visit him. He’s never actually met Renji, all he knows is that Shirogane retired, and Byakuya hired some tattooed goon from Squad 11 instead of one of the dozens of Kuchiki cousins that are lying around. In my fanfic Call Me Back When the War is Over, Byakuya explains to one of his aunts that the reason he did this was because he didn’t have a relative who was capable of passing the Lieutenant’s Exam. She replies that he just should have pulled some strings so that someone (preferably her own son) could pass, assuming it’s a mere formality. Now this is exactly what Ginrei would have done. This is a problem, though: it involves choosing sides. I’ve got the top seats of Squad 6 set up as follows:

- 3rd Seat Ohno is the Heir to the most powerful Kuchiki branch family. His father is arguably the next in line for Clan Head, based on power terms - 4th Seat Kuchiki Choei is an actual Kuchiki, but he’s a younger son and he’s a clown, meaning that he got bored standing in line for Clan Head and wandered around the corner to vape - 5th Seat Kuchiki Takehiko is the actual closest of Byakuya’s relatives to him, and is arguably the next in line for Clan Head, strictly on family line terms

Pulling strings to help any of these three become the next lieutenant would be a very political move on B’s part, tantamount to anointing his successor. Ginrei assumes that B picked an outsider for the purposes of recusing, of saying “I shall simply refuse to die and remain Clan Head myself, forever’, with the addition fuck you of picking the Actual Worst Person Byakuya Could Find for the job, instead.

This really isn’t the case at all, it is literally that Byakuya feels that you shouldn’t be a lieutenant if you can’t pass the exam. He’s basically a rule-follower, and also it’s a good rule, and also his dad died as a lieutenant and I think he thinks a lot about how that could have been avoided through actions, whereas Ginrei tends to think of it more of a thing that could have been avoided if Soujun was better.

So, that gets us up to the beginning of canon. I am (in theory) working on a fanfic that takes place in the 17-mo timeskip where Ginrei comes to visit and actually gets to know Rukia and Renji and (spoiler alert, but is anyone really surprised) he ends up liking both of them a lot. Part of it is just Ginrei has chilled out somewhat in his retirement and realized that it’s okay to have parts of your life that are not completely devoted to the Good of the Clan. Part of it is that Ginrei loves Competence and Rukia and Renji are so, so competent. Part of it is that Byakuya is obviously doing a lot better than he was, and it’s just really obvious why. Like I said, Ginrei does and always has loved Byakuya, he just wants what’s best for him. It’s just that if there is one thing Kuchiki are terrible at, it’s expressing their love for one another in a positive and healthy way.

As to Ginrei’s feelings about Renruki as a ship, he’s for it, actually. Conniving family members have been trying to marry Rukia for years in hopes of getting an in with Byakuya, and I’m sure they’re setting their sights on Renji, now, too. Ginrei likes them well enough, but he can imagine what a shitshow this could turn out to be, and he finds it very convenient if they were to just marry each other.

I’m rather fond of the idea of Byakuya appointing them as a branch family to the Kuchiki, because I’m not super keen on them going full-Kuchiki if Renji married in, but I think Byakuya would be upset if Rukia married out and he wasn’t able to provide her with the lavish lifestyle he thinks she needs (she does not). It’s a nice compromise that lets them be a part of the family, but out of the limelight. In any case, I think that was Ginrei’s idea, thanks Granddad!

[ill-skillsgard]

Blue and Yellow - Part 8 - Axel Cluney

Warning: 18+ sex/mature themes/strong language/medical themes/mentions of blood+injuries/hospitals/violence/drug and alcohol use **In this part: drug and alcohol use, violence, mentions of blood, violence/assault, mentions of alcoholism, smut**

Description: Saberrah Asta, Featherfall General’s newest nurse, finds herself entangled in the complicated life of an underground boxer with a slew of problems she can’t fix. Will Axel’s love knock out the voices telling her to run, or will their explosive romance fizzle as fast as it flourished?

Note: Thanks to everyone who continues to enjoy this series and reblogs the chapters as they come out. I really, really appreciate your support. If you can’t reblog, consider dropping a like and a comment... It really makes me happy and lets me know I’m not wasting my time posting on this website. I hope you enjoy!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

In the ruddy glow of the UV lights, eyes stuck on a woman twirling around a powdered pole. She started the show wearing a yellow underbust corset, a ruffled skirt and a matching bikini top. The music came on, and the corset flew off with it as she sidled up to the chrome pole and arched her back until her crown touched the floor. Sabi watched the sweat drip from a man's forehead onto the edge of the stage. The dancer rolled over the droplet, absorbing the perspiration, and continued bending her body into impressive shapes.

Not all eyes focused on the yellow-clad exotic dancer commanding the stage with her long legs, nine-inch stiletto boots and stiff, blond wig. Some eyes were on the girls swapping empty cups for full ones, some on the women grinding on laps, and one set scanned the floor for lost money. One of the first things Sabi noticed about the strip club—other than its low, dark, and claustrophobic ceiling and walls—was that the carpeting around the stage littered with dollar coins. They glinted under the disco lights and beckoned her pick them up. She'd asked Axel why there were so many toonies on the floor, and he told her it was because people weren't allowed to tip with coins, and since the lowest notes were shiny fivers, the dancers often came away with a day's worth of money in two songs' time if their patrons were generous.

Sabi collected the coins, stored them in the pockets of her scrubs and until she swapped them for gin and tonics.

Arty sat on the other side of a horseshoe-shaped table, gawking up at the dancers like a boy witnessing his first Christmas tree. Only between songs did he shut his mouth and make his way over to his cousin to ask, "did you see that? Did you see her? I think she likes me. Think I should buy a dance from her?"

Axel spread out his hand and waited for Sabi to take hold. When she did, Axel pulled her from her seat and asked for a cigarette since his pack had run out on the trip to Nikki's. They went outside and stood under a neon sign of a buxom woman riding a sausage in cowboy boots. The sign flashed, and the large-breasted rider's hat came off. Axel lit his cigarette first and swapped it with Sabi's dry one.

Sabi looked around the lot, then back at Axel, who leaned against the brick wall, blowing smoke rings into the night air under the deep red glow. The weed had worn off during the ride up and left a residual sleepiness Sabi continued to chase off by flexing her toes and noticing how plain she looked, still dressed in her hospital scrubs.

"So, why do you guys call it Sticky Nikki's?" Sabi asked.

Axel's mouth tilted to one side, smiling as he exhaled. "Most people say it's because the dancers here don't shower, but it's really because of the bathrooms."

Sabi's full bladder clenched. "What about them?"

"Every surface of the bathrooms besides the toilet seats are covered with oil."

She contorted her top lip in disgust. "Um, why?"

"So people don't do coke in there."

"I don't understand."

"You can't bust lines on a greasy surface. The coke will stick and clump up. They've been raided before, so I guess they took that route. Now people just do coke in the VIP booths or in their cars."

"Wow, that's very... Innovative?"

A yellow Firebird chugged into a parking space across the lot, headlights closing before the engine cut. The vehicle caught Axel's attention, and he threw his half-smoked cigarette on the ground to stamp it out.

"Come on. Let's get back inside—"

"AXEL?"

"Oh, fuck."

"Axel! Hellooo!"

The driver stepped out of the Firebird onto the asphalt in strappy silver heels coiling up her naked shins and thighs. Her matching dress ended at her hips, revealing a small triangle of silver between her legs as she walked and urged the dress down. The unforgiving material slid back up as she trotted toward Axel and Sabi, bangles, necklace and dangling earrings jingling as she went. The woman wore a bright pink, faux fur bolero around her shoulders with her silvery hair piled high on her head. Sabi noticed large, pierced nipples straining through the Mylar dish towel of a dress and an illegible tattoo seated between her breasts.

"Oh, Bluebear! C'mere handsome! Give me a hug right now!" The thin, knobby woman threw her torso at Axel, knocking him into the brick wall. He returned a brief hug and dropped his arms, but the woman clung to him and kissed his cheek. She clutched his face and peppered his jawline with kisses. "Oh my God, I can't believe you're here! Did you come just to see me?"

Axel chuckled nervously and pushed her off with two hands on her fur-lined shoulders. The woman ignored Sabi and continued trying to land kisses on Axel's face and hands.

"Marley, calm down, Jesus," Axel said.

"I'm sorry, I just can't believe you're here. I've been thinking about you. You never call?"

"Busy. Always busy."

"Apparently not too busy to be here."

Axel nodded to his left, where Sabi stood, stunned. "You can thank her and Arty for dragging me out."

Marley gave Sabi a quick glance, then turned her attention on Axel with a broad smile full of crooked teeth. "Are you gonna watch me dance tonight?"

"No, Marley. That's weird."

"Oh, come on, Bluey! We're not related anymore since Greg and Juney divorced," she giggled. "I'm fair game."

Sabi fluttered her lashes and scoffed. "Excuse me, Marley, is it?"

"Yeah?"

"Take your fucking hands off my boyfriend."

Marley stepped back, one heel wobbling on a loose stone. Axel pressed himself flat to the wall. The vicious edge of Sabi's voice cut through the din of music filtering from the inside, leaving the three of them in strained silence. Sabi took one last puff of her cigarette and flicked it at the dancer's feet. Her last few drinks curdled her blood and pumped her chest full of adrenaline.

"Damn, you're a feisty one," said Marley with a scoff. "Axe, are you just gonna let her talk to me like that?"

Axel nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I am. You should go inside, Marley... Before you catch hands."

"And a cold," Sabi spat, ridiculing the woman's outfit with a furrowed brow and blazing eyes.

"Wow, that's fucking rude. Can't believe you, Blue."

The front door swung open, and Arty came stumbling out with another couple of friends who'd driven up to the strip club with them. In his drunken haze, Arty missed the tension and gasped at Marley.

"Mar-Mar!" He approached her with his thick arms akimbo. Marley ducked away from the large man's embrace. "What's the matter?"

"Blue's girlfriend is the matter."

Sabi clenched her fists as the cousins murmured in surround sound. Axel caught Sabi's arm and tugged her back into the club as she twisted her neck, eyes sweltering on the blond woman. Once inside and clear of the entrance, Axel spun her to face him.

"Easy, Saberrah. Easy. Deep breath."

Instead of inhaling, Sabi launched herself at his chest, poking his sternum with a stiff finger. "I'll gouge that bitch's eyes out, Axel. I promise you!"

"No, no, no," he shook his head. "Don't. I know you're pissed, but you can't let her get to you. That's just Marley for ya. She's a dumbass."

"She's gonna be a dead dumbass!"

Axel smothered Sabi in his arms, brushed his fingers through her hair and shushed her until she stopped struggling. "Don't fucking start a fight at Sticky Nikki's, babe. You don't want to be that person."

The multi-coloured lights shifted along the walls and floor, illuminating the couple as Axel held Sabi's head in place between his hands. He ducked to kiss her in hopes some affection might disperse her anger, but it only fanned the flame.

"Who the fuck does she think she is walking up and practically making out with you? Like what the fuck is that, Axel? Have you fucked her before? Why did she do that?"

"What the fuck, Sabi? Of course, I haven't fucked my fucking cousin."

"She sure acts like there's a fucking chance!"

The bouncer at the door caught wind of the heated exchange unfolding between the bar and the tables. He snapped his thick fingers at Axel.

"Take it outside, man!"

Axel nodded, gave a courteous wave to the bouncer, and guided Sabi to a darker corner. "Babe, come on. It's done."

"No, this was a mistake. I shouldn't have let you get me drunk. We're broken up. I shouldn't even be here with you. Look what I'm wearing, Axel. This is fucking ridiculous."

Desperate terror broke Axel's composure, and he gathered her in his arms, clamping her shoulders. "Don't fucking say that. We're not broken up. Please, Sabi, don't do this to me again. I thought we were cool?"

"No, we're not fucking cool! You're a goddamn liar, and your stupid family are a bunch of fucking lunatics!"

"I know they are, I know, but please, God, just don't fucking do this, Sab. We're together. I'm here. I won't ever lie to you again, I swear on my mother's life. Can we please just forget about this and go home? Let's go home, babe."

"Why are you like this?" Sabi moaned. Her head spun, senses awash in cheap beer and liquor, anxiety mounting. She begrudged her furious outburst, but it wouldn't subside no matter how loud her inner reason screamed out to stop. "Why did I ever get involved with you?"

"Sabi, Sabi, please," Axel's tone flattened into a serious line. Sobered and despairing, Axel bent at the knees to meet her eyes, hands squeezing her arms. "Baby, I love you. I love you. Don't talk like that. Jesus, I've never loved anyone in my fucking life the way I love you. I'm sorry I'm not perfect, but please, don't do this to me again. You're just drunk, babe. Come on, we'll go home and sleep it off."

A bubble burst in Sabi's throat, and she whimpered. Close to tears, she buried her face in his chest and threw her arms around him. Axel melted into the embrace. He squeezed his eyes shut and hugged her in the UV light, white tank top glowing pale blue.

Sabi mumbled incoherently until Axel pulled away and asked what she said. She sniffled and wiped her nose, muttering, "I love you, too. I love you so much, and I hate it."

The bouncer kept eyes on the arguing couple until yelling from outside the club took priority. As the stage lights dimmed and the flaring shower of red and blue sprayed the stage, Axel took Sabi's hand and led her to a row of curtained booths. He pushed her through a heavy flap into a cubicle with a C-shaped couch and a small television on a shelf displaying a feed of the stage. To the right, on a small ledge, was an empty cup containing a few torn condom wrappers. Potlights behind the red leather sofa soaked the space and reflected off the mirrors on the ceiling and floor. Sabi chuffed as Axel pulled her close and kissed her.

"This place is disgusting, Axel."

"I fucking told you! But you wanted to come. We could have gone home and cuddled and went to bed, but you wanted to go out."

"I haven't partied in a long time. Thought it would be nice to do something fun."

"Strip clubs aren't my idea of fun," Axel said.

"What? You don't like tits in your face? Looks like the last ones in here had a great time," Sabi indicated the square foil packets in the plastic cup.

Axel sat on the lumpy cushions and pulled Sabi onto his lap. "The only tits I want in my face are yours."

"But mine aren't huge like theirs."

"You mean they're not pumped full of silicone? Oh, no," Axel rolled his eyes.

"Did you mean that?" Sabi sniffled. "Do you really love me?"

Axel stared up at her with his arms around her waist, eyes blasted open and shining as his bottom lip wobbled. "Sab... I've never loved anyone. Up until we met, I didn't think it was possible. I thought maybe I was fucked up and emotionally damaged. Maybe I saw my parents hate each other so hard, it ruined any chance of me wanting a relationship. And I'm sorry my family is so fucked up. I'm trying hard not to be like them. I've always wanted to do better, and then I met you, and everything changed. I love you."

Thunder rolled through Sabi's skull. The alcohol fuzz and adrenaline receded, exposing an agitated sore through the air of Axel's confession. She pulled his face to hers and kissed him. Axel returned the motion with a tilt of his head and two roaming hands. He hoped he was in the clear, that Sabi wouldn't turn around and chastise him or claim they weren't together. The unburdening of truth left his chest empty but warm. Axel had practiced his speech in several forms, never once thinking he'd deliver it to Sabi in the VIP booth of a strip club after she threatened to kill one of his cousins.

"Please, Axe, please... Don't lie to me ever again. I want you to tell me the truth about everything. You can't sit here and tell me you love me if you intend to lie again."

"I won't lie. I swear. You're everything to me, babe. Just stay with me. Don't say we're not together... I can't stand the sound of that."

"We are together," Sabi said, pressing her forehead to his. "We're together."

"Thank you," he whispered against her lips.

They stayed in the booth, kissing and holding each other while Aerosmith, Motley Crue and Whitesnake played over the PA system. Sequestered from their group, the couple talked shit about Axel's cousins and poked fun at themselves for indulging the white trash rhapsody they so often condemned. Sabi fought off her sleepiness by teasing Axel until he couldn't stand her grinding and whispers. Still, her intoxication erased all bashfulness, and she climbed off his lap to dance for him when Cherry Pie by Warrant blasted over the sound system.

"Oh, nurse, are you gonna make me feel better?" Axel asked.

"My routine is all method. Nurse by day, slut by night," Sabi giggled.

"I like that. You should get up on that stage and shake that sweet booty. Show those girls what it's all about."

Sabi whirled around, cheeks prickling red. "No way. I'm not dancing in front of those gross old dudes and your cousins."

Axel chuckled until he sighed. "Speaking of my stupid-ass cousins... We should probably find them. I'm about ready to split from this festering anal scab. What do you think?"

"It would be nice to get out of these scrubs. I feel like a total nerd."

"You wear it well, babe. Real well."

The two left the booth, skirted the tables and found Arty engaged in conversation with Jack, another one of their cousins, at the opposite corner of the club. For once, Arty wasn't gawping at the dancers but motoring through an explanation until he caught sight of Axel and Sabi. He slammed his fist on the table, startling Jack and sloshing beer over the plastic cups.

"There you fucking are! Christ, I was looking all over for you! Thought you left until I saw the Monte still in the lot. Where the fuck have you been?"

"We were just talking."

"Marley's pissed. Said she's gonna have the guys throw you both out."

Axel jeered. "Yeah, whatever. Marley's a fucking cunt, and we're about ready to take off anyway."

"Hey, I got a little something, Axe. Wanna pitch on this gram?"

Sabi cocked her head until Arty flashed a small vial he'd been holding in his meaty palm. She looked to Axel, then back at Arty, who pumped his eyebrows. Jack, their younger, skinnier and quieter cousin, hid a grin behind a crudely tattooed fist. It clicked then that the two had already partaken, and the full effects motored through their mouths and tapping feet.

"Man, fuck that shit," Axel said.

Sabi's heart raced. She'd never seen cocaine before, and the thought of Axel snorting drugs filled her with an itchy sensation that wasn't as worrisome as she thought. Memories of overdose patients riddled her brain, drowned only by the glamour and taboo of the powder in Arty's hand. She pinched the inside of her cheek between her teeth and looked up at Axel, squeezing his hand.

"What? You wanna do some?" He asked in a lowered voice.

"I don't know," Sabi shrugged. "I've never tried it before."

"It's really not that great."

"Well..."

"Come on, Blue."

Axel let out a hiss of air. "You only want me to so I'll pitch on it."

"Nah, you don't have to. My treat," said Arty. "You don't owe me for the 'dro either. You guys said you wanted to party, so let's fucking party."

Inside the Monte Carlo, Arty and Jack took the backseats, and Sabi sat upfront while Axel dipped his house key into the vial. Arty and Jack had already tipped a pinch onto the backs of their hands and shot it up their nostrils with ease, roiling their noses around and sniffling as the substance absorbed. The key came out with a small white peak and soon disappeared up Axel's right nostril. He sat back, eyes wide as he sniffled and cleared his throat, blinking wildly until he smiled and looked back at his cousins.

"Jesus."

"Right? It's good blow. None of that fenny bullshit. Don't worry, we already tested it."

Jack tapped the fanny pack around his waist. "Naloxone, just in case. Playin' it smart after Tracy."

Arty sighed, "rest in peace."

Sabi's palms and feet moistened as Axel dipped the key in the vial again and came up with a much smaller amount of powder. He twisted in the seat and handed the vial to Arty. "Ready?"

"Um... I don't really know what to do," said Sabi.

"Here," Axel pressed her left nostril shut with the tip of his middle finger. "When I say so, inhale like you're trying to hawk a loogie."

Sabi made a look of disgust until Axel brought the edge of the key to her nose.

"Okay, go."

Powder shot into her nasal cavity, coating the walls and setting off her salivary glands. After a few seconds, she felt her nose dripping and sucked the fluid back until her throat went numb. She hauled the mucus into her mouth and swallowed, then ran her tongue over her teeth and gums, feeling nothing.

"Did I do it right?" She asked as her eyelids drew back, and the lethargy gave way to an intense rush of energy.

Axel and his cousins tittered. "Yeah, babe. You did it right."

"Am I supposed to feel like my head is numb?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Jack. "Funny feeling at first, but you'll get used to that. It goes away pretty soon."

Axel shook his head. "Nah, there's nothing to get used to. This is a one-time thing. Just for shits and giggles, okay?"

"Okay," said Sabi as Axel grabbed her hand and squeezed.

In minutes, Sabi's top row of teeth pressed down. Her heart thumped in her chest like a spastic drum, and a sudden urge to kiss Axel overcame her. She leaned forward and crushed her mouth to his, only pulling back when a worried grunt left Arty's throat.

Ahead of the car, a muscular man wearing a braided mohawk stomped out of the club with Marley in tow. The blond pointed directly at the Monte Carlo as another pair of men followed out the door. The one with the mohawk clenched his fists and stomped toward the car, snarling viciously. He rose the hammer of his fist and brought it down in the hood of Axel's prized ride.

"I don't fucking think so," Axel said. "Arty, Jack!"

Arty opened the door and was halfway on the pavement when Axel shot out.

"Yo, what the fuck, man?" Axel yelled.

"You piece of shit! Get the fuck out of here, you pussy bitch!" Marley screeched. "And take your ugly slob of a girlfriend with you!"

Sabi choked on her battering pulse as Axel widened his stance, opening his arms in invitation. Axel chuckled at his assailant, which only toughened the menace on his face.

Axel taunted him. "Come on, cocksucker. I dare you to take your shot. I'll give you one good one, then I'll fuck your shit up so bad your crackhead mom won't recognize you,"

"Get him, Brian!"

"You're making a big fucking mistake. That's the Cobra, ya fuckin' idiot. He's a pro boxer! Like, you're gonna die, dude!" Arty laughed.

"Fuck off, Arty!" Marley stepped up to her cousin but met a wall.

"Why don't you go back inside and suck some meth-head cock for rent? Ya fuckin' slut."

The people gathering around reminded Sabi of Axel's illegal basement fight. Their taunting and jeers sounded just like the rousing of the crowd. Axel bounced on his toes, beckoning the guy with a cocky smirk plastered on his face. "Come on. Hit me, pussy. I want you to!"

Arty wrestled with Marley until the man took a swing at Axel's face. The boxer dodged the punch and reciprocated as fast as a jolt of lightning, throwing a hook that sent him stumbling backward. A stream of blood burst from his nose. With his fists up, Axel cackled and shifted back and forth, throwing jabs to the air.

"Aw, fuck yeah! Come on, pussy! Let's see if you can land one on me!" He stood still and tapped his cheek. "Right here, motherfucker."

"Fuck him up, Blue!"

Sabi had enough. Her limbs tingled while she got out of the car and took a running start at Marley, who was yelling for her protector to hit Axel. She wound her arm, closed her eyes and thrust forth in a blind fury. When she opened her eyes, Marley had toppled onto her ass, screaming and clutching her face. Her accomplices froze, and the lot went quiet for a breath. Then the doors flew open, and 3 security guards ran out. Sabi scrambled back into the car, chugging air and shaking. She stared at her quaking hands and saw blood on her knuckles. By the time the security made it to the vehicle, Axel had jumped in and locked the doors.

"Holy shit, babe. Holy shit!"

The bouncer who had yelled at them earlier to take their arguing elsewhere banged on Axel's window.

"Out of the car, motherfucker!"

Axel threw up his hands in a shrug. "No can do, muchacho!"

He turned on the engine, throwing light over the group. One guard smacked the hood while the others gathered around Marley to help her stand.

"Oh, Jesus, Axe. What if I broke her nose?"

"I hope you did. Now, let's get the fuck outta here."

Axel revved the engine, threatening to pull forward despite the human barricade in front of the car. He laid on the horn, deafening the yelling into inaudible chaos, then revved again. Pulling forth an inch, the guards and screaming members of the Cluney family dispersed, and once the way was clear, Axel peeled out of the parking lot and sped onto the road toward the city.

 The couple hollered and laughed, speeding down the country line. On the crest of a hill, Axel spotted flashing lights in the distance. He slowed the car and held his breath while Sabi squeezed his thigh. He pulled to the shoulder and waited for the police cruiser to pass. Axel watched in the rearview, then twisted around until the lights disappeared. They both let out heavy sighs of relief.

"Christ Almighty... That was fucking insane."

Sabi held up her quivering hands. "I... I can't believe I did that. Axel, I punched your cousin in the face!"

"You punched through her face. Through it. Fuck! I've never seen a girl rock someone that goddamn hard in my life. It was like... All slow motion for a second. Everyone just stopped."

"Oh my God... Am I gonna go to jail?"

Axel tossed his head back with laughter, clapping Sabi's thigh. "No, babe. You're not going to jail."

"What about your cousins? What if they tell the cops I assaulted her?"

"They got no proof. Well, except the epic shiner Marley's gonna have. But it's Sticky's. Nobody cares if some stripper gets popped in the mug. Happens all the time. It's par for the course, baby. Don't worry."

"Fuck, I think I get why you fight now. I feel so gangster."

"That was so hot, Sab. Not gonna lie. I'm totally switched on."

"Me too."

"I'm not kidding. Look," Axel nodded at his erection pressing against his jeans.

The Monte Carlo slowed over a rocky strip, chucking pebbles and dirt into the stream of the headlights. Axel eased the machine to a stop beside a line of pine trees, hidden from the road going South but exposed to the North. He didn't care. Not when Sabi had her hand buried in his pants, toying with his cock. A moment after he cut the engine, Axel whipped off his seatbelt and chased Sabi to the backseat where the stick shift didn't obscure their reach for each other. Once comfortably splayed on the seat, she tore open his jeans while he lifted his hips. His chucks were another roadblock easily vanquished in their haste to undress. Axel kept his tank top on, lifted Sabi's over her breasts, and pulled down her bra to suck her nipples into his mouth.

"Axe, don't come inside me."

"I won't, baby."

He slipped inside of her, senses heightened by the drugs and adrenaline still raging through his veins. The sensation of her wetness wringing true around his length made him shiver and burn.

"Fucking you without a condom is so much better. Christ, I don't believe what I've been missing."

Axel propped her on his groin, one foot behind either seat as he sank low enough to thrust without bumping her head on the roof of the car. A moan burst from his mouth. He rested his palms on her hips and let his eyes roll from the pleasure of the slick sounds, the wetness coating his length, her dew clinging to his pubic hair.

"Love it when you ride me. God, you have no idea how good that feels, baby."

Despite his claims, Axel lifted Sabi and placed her on her back so he could deliver several harsh thrusts. The cocaine seated his teeth together, imbued him with enough stamina to rock until the car joined in with the momentum. Desensitized, Axel continued the motion, hovering inches above her, pressing kisses to her lips and cheeks.

"Do you love me?"

Sabi stared at the man above her, plunging into her, squeezing her breasts and burying his face between them. Some gelled pieces of his hair fell out of place until she smoothed her palm over his crown.

"Yes... I love you, Axel."

"You sure?" He grunted.

"I'm positive."

"Even though I'm trash? Even though you're better than me?"

"I'm not better than you. What are you saying?"

"Yes, you are. You're perfect. I never wanna lose you. Please, don't say you love me unless you really mean it. Unless you can't live without me."

"I don't want to be without you."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Promise you'll love me no matter what."

Sabi giggled as though Axel made a joke. He stopped thrusting, laid his head on her chest and took a deep breath of her sweat and perfume. "I'm for real, Sabberah. Don't leave me again."

"I won't," she said in a small voice. "I love you, Axe. Why do you think I'm here?"

"'Cause, we're drunk and on drugs. I'm afraid you'll wake up sober tomorrow and realize you made a mistake."

Sabi propped her upper body on her elbows and clicked her tongue. "Don't give me a reason to feel like I made a mistake then."

"I won't. I won't, baby, I promise."

"Okay. Good. Now shut up and fuck me hard, you bad, bad man."

~*~

The sky was a gradient of royal blue and violet, crisping along the edge of the horizon when the couple untangled and drove into town. Rundown and exhausted from the night's events, they agreed on a local eatery called Ronnie's Poutine Palace for a needed meal. They wandered into the tiny restaurant and avoided the old man staring at them from the corner behind a newspaper. Sabi felt the grease clinging to her scalp, the sleep pulling her eyes, and the vapour from the grills only made it worse.

The restaurant seemed built into a wide hallway with only a few tables and a flaking mural of a chef caricature holding a dripping plate of fries and gravy. Underneath the cartoon chef, the wall advertised forty different kinds of poutine ranging from classic to mixtures that made Sabi's stomach gurgle unpleasantly. They served all-day breakfast and homemade Pogos and pastries. That morning, the pastry case was bereft of any of the advertised eclairs and cupcakes.

A young, gap-toothed girl came to take their order. Axel requested two coffees, a breakfast poutine and then turned to Sabi with shaded eyes. "What do you want, babe?"

"I'll have the French toast," Sabi said.

"Would you like any powdered sugar or strawberries? They're fresh. Just picked them from Cate's Farm yesterday."

Sabi nodded. "Sold. Uh, hold the sugar, though. Just berries. And maple syrup, please, if you have it."

"Of course."

Axel pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and instructed the girl to keep the change, then added a few dollars to the tip jar. Sabi rooted around in her pockets and found a sticky toonie to add.

"That's nice of you," Sabi commented.

"This place has cured some major hangovers in my day. I owe them my life."

The girl at the counter nodded. "We're open twenty-four hours and deliver all night. This city runs on our poutine."

Axel smiled, wheeling Sabi to a table near the front window.

They dug into their food when it arrived, Axel hacking the fried egg in half, so the yolk spilled over a pile of the greasiest fries Sabi had ever seen. She grimaced as he poked half a breakfast link in his mouth.

"Why not just have breakfast? Why taint perfectly good poutine?" Sabi asked.

"Because you don't just go to Ronnie's and not get poutine. Look at the size of this thing, and for eight bucks? Come on. You can't beat that."

Sabi prodded a heart-shaped strawberry with the tines of her fork and swirled it in a ramekin of syrup before eating it. Axel pointed at the stack of fried bread.

"Now that's gross. I don't know how you can stomach sugar right now. I'd barf."

"French toast is the tits. Don't hate."

"Yeah, but strawberries in syrup? You're weird, kid."

"You're weird. That yolk is all mixed in with the gravy. And the cheese. It's like slime."

Axel made a purposeful slurping sound, grating her nerves. She scrunched her nose and turned away to chew a mouthful of toast without the imagery.

They sipped coffee and ate as much as their stomachs could handle. Sabi blew her nose into a napkin and paled at the white snot. She sniffed the dried, flaky remnants of coke clinging to her nose hairs and smothered a sneeze with the back of her hand. "God, I feel like ass."

"Well, you look great."

Sabi looked down at her wrinkled work uniform. "I've been wearing the same outfit for a full twenty-four hours. How can you even say that?"

"'Cause I love ya."

"Stop," she angled her face.

"What? I don't care what you're wearing, and neither does anyone else. You look cute. Little rough, but we had a long night, didn't we Muhammed Ali?"

"Don't remind me."

Axel put down his fork and wiped his face with a napkin. "Hey, listen. Speaking of that... I wanted to talk to you about... The boxing."

"I'm not becoming a professional boxer, Axel. I already told you."

"No, not that. I mean, I wanna talk about my situation."

"Oh," Sabi chirped.

Axel took in a monumental breath, laid his hands flat on the table and gazed into her eyes until he was sure he had her attention. "I want to be honest with you and say I have no intention of stopping right now. I have a few more fights—"

"Wait, Axel, before you say anything, I have something to tell you as well. That night when I broke up with you for lying to me... I was at the fight. I watched you beat that guy."

"What? You're serious?"

"Yeah. I went out to the corner store for snacks and passed the gym you said you work at, but it was closed. I thought maybe you lied and had gone somewhere else. Maybe to another girl's place or something."

"Sabi, no."

"That's just what I thought. I know you wouldn't cheat on me. Anyway, I went around back, and some guy asked if I wanted to come in for the fight. It all just clicked in at that point. So, I went down there."

"Christ," Axel pinched between his eyebrows. "I don't want you around those maniacs."

Sabi pulled her phone from her pocket and scrolled through a few pictures until she found the flyer she'd found on the street with Axel's face on it. She held up the screen for him to see.

"What about this? This looks legitimate. You said you don't fight professionally anymore, but why not? You could be something if you tried."

Axel shook his head. "That was a while back."

"So, what? You can do what you love, Axel. Nothing's stopping you."

"Plenty is stopping me, Sab."

"Like what?"

"Like money."

"What do you mean?"

Axel pointed at her phone, grimacing. "See, that fight earned me three-hundred bucks. Do you know how much that fight at Vince's got me?"

"No."

"Three thousand."

"Oh."

"Yeah, and that was on the lower end of the scale. Three thousand for three minutes in the ring."

"But what good is that money if you get busted?"

Axel snickered and stuck out his hand for her to take. "Babe... There's a lot about Featherfall you don't know yet. We don't get busted. Half those bets were cops, lawyers, and shit. Bikers."

"Doctors?" Asked Sabi.

"That's another thing,” Axel said. “Farber... You obviously know him from work."

"I do."

"I don't want you tangled in that life, and Farber won't want one of his subordinates knowing his business."

"Little too late for that," Sabi muttered.

"I'm serious, Sab. Some of those guys are real dangerous."

Sabi leered. "Rufus Farber?"

"Maybe not him on his own, but you don't know the types he runs with."

"Well, I know you, don't I? Are you one of the dangerous types?"

"I'm the type that has debts to pay and doesn't want his girlfriend getting involved in the mess."

"What debts?"

"I don't know, just debts."

Sabi sat back in the booth and crossed her arms. "Thought we were being honest with each other?"

"Look, I don't want to talk about it here," Axel gestured at the old man at the other side of the dining area staring at them. He leaned closer, and under his breath, said, "my mom owes some money. I'm trying to dig her out of the hole before she kicks the bucket."

"What kind of debt?"

"Sab..."

"Just tell me."

"The house. The bills. Shit, before I met you, the city shut her water off. She's so fucked, she can't work. My dad left money when he died for her to retire, and she drank and partied it away. So, now I'm cleaning up that mess."

Sabi went quiet for a while, and Axel picked up his fork and combed through the remaining fries for bits of bacon.

"I'm sorry your mom was an alcoholic."

"Is an alcoholic," Axel corrected. "She'll always be one."

"Babe... You're amazing. Helping your mom like that is a testament to how generous and kind you are. I just wish you could help her more legitimately."

"Nothing more legitimate than cash, Sab. That, and how much I love you and need you to stay out of this. Let me figure it out. I don't want you at any more fights."

"Well, I don't want you at them either."

"I have to. I'm locked in for another three matches."

"What if I help you? I make decent money. I can help with her bills."

"You help enough already. Keep your money. It's done, babe. I'm in it for a little while, then I'm out. Maybe I'll go legit after, and you can come watch me fight."

"I've seen it. You're fierce. I never knew you could move that quickly."

"They don't call me Cobra for nothing."

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[mor-beck-more-problems]

Wolf-Staken || Morgan & Ulfric

@big-bad-ulf

Morgan and Ulfric run into each other in the woods. Neither find exactly what they’re looking for.

The world had become a veil to float through. As Morgan ambled through the woods, she pressed her hand to every tree and branch that passed near her fingers. Testing to see if they would notice her, if her touch would matter in a way they couldn’t seem to matter to her. A freak snow was falling in from the west, but Morgan waded through the underbrush in her thin jeans and college hoodie as steadily as if it were a clear evening. She was almost at the clearing Deirdre had taken her to twice before. There had to be deer nearby, or a roost of chipmunks. The deer she’d killed had to have come from somewhere. She scanned the trees, searching for signs of life. A heartbeat. A rustle of leaves, something that even her new body would catch. And suddenly there was. A brown rabbit nosing out from the wet leaves, checking its surroundings. Poor thing. It was never going to be enough. Morgan crouched low into the ground. Hovering just over the grass. She tilted her head, imagining what it looked like to be that helpless at the bottom of the world, to understand how beyond your grasp the order of the earth was just by looking around. Morgan reached out for it. The end of her thought wasn’t clear, but the want was strong enough to propel her, fingers brushing over its fur--

The rabbit leapt away. Morgan dove, arms closing around air. She scrambled up to all fours, only feet above the rabbit’s height and launched herself again. For a moment it was around her and she had a sense, her face buried in its matted fur, its heart pounding in her ear as if was about to burst, as if it was about to die-- Morgan gasped and the rabbit wriggled out, kicking its haunches square into the side of her face. Morgan went splat, rolled onto her back, and willed a deep sigh though her body. The bottom of the world, she thought, staring up at the sky. Didn’t seem all that different from the view from death.

It was a flash of dark hair and pale skin deeper into the forest that had captured Ulfric’s attention first. All his nerves alighted at once from the glimpse of that family contrast, and he found he was as powerless to keep from following it as he was to keep from howling when the moon was clear and bright. But there was barely a silvery sliver in the sky this night, and his senses frustratingly muted. Unable to rely on scent and sound to identify her from a distance, he trailed the woman cautiously at a slightly higher elevation, keeping his face towards the snowfall to ensure he stayed upwind and undetected as he observed her. To his simultaneous relief and disappointment he quickly realized his quarry couldn’t be Diana Aquilla. On closer inspection she looked too young, and the way she scrambled for purchase through the trees didn’t fit with what he’d seen of hunters. They tended to drift detached from their surroundings, single-mindedly focussed on their targets like cruel mockeries of the angel of death. A lost hiker then? Ulfric pulled his body closer in line with one of the towering pines between them, concealing his silhouette. Maybe a few convincing growls from something lurking in the woods convince her to turn back? Then he could continue his patrol without distraction. Softly, he cleared his throat in preparation but it transformed into a surprised splutter as the woman pounced, or rather, made a very pitiable attempt to pounce on the rabbit. “It’s not polite to play with your food. Nor is it to trespass, for that matter,” the werewolf commented drly from his still concealed position. If she was spawn, or some other creature lacking the capacity for anything but mindless feasting, she’d attack at the sound of his voice and this detour would be dealt with quickly. If she didn’t, then deciding what to do next would get more complicated, but also certainly more interesting.

Morgan looked up from the ground, embarrassed. She was a miserable zombie, she knew that, but it was weirder and harder now that she had an audience. She picked herself up enough to dust off her hands and rub the dirt from her sleeves. The man looking over her was more or less what she would expect from a mountain man this far up north. Not enough weapons compared to the last two hunters she’d seen to be one, she hoped. “I-I wasn’t...playing,” she said. Although, for as ineffective as she was, she might as well have been. Maybe she should’ve lied. But trespassing, that was a lot less good than bad brain hunting. “I thought this was just...the woods?” Weren’t they just there? Had she gotten lost? Oh, shit, she had totally gotten lost. Morgan began to crawl back, grateful to not be able to sweat anymore. “But uh...obviously, they’re not. So, I can just...go be...somewhere else?” she said.

“The property line’s about a quarter-mile back the way you came,” Ulfric informed the woman, inclining his head slightly in that direction, squinting to see if he could make out any figures following her. Apart from the rabbit she’d let slip the forest appeared to be still. “You wouldn’t be the first to miss it.” Or to ignore it, as could still prove to be the case. As much as he didn’t want to believe it, the creature in front of him was in a wretched enough state that he couldn’t rule out the possibility that she’d been sent to scout ahead of the Aquilla hunting party in exchange for being spared their wrath. It would certainly fit the family’s odd history of trying to tame nonhuman creatures. “I wouldn’t go back the way you came. You might meet someone less forgiving than me.” The wolf stepped slowly towards the woman as he spoke, corralling her further into the clearing, where the denser snow would mean less secure footing if she did try to attack or flee. “Answer a few questions, and I’ll show you a shortcut back to the road,” he continued, not asking or bargaining but instructing. “What’s your name?”

Morgan slid her attention back behind her as the mountain man checked the horizon. The more she followed small game around the woods, waiting for them to die, the more she realized how much she spent her existence acting like prey. Was that why Constance had been so sure of herself and her curse? Could she see it in her, how small and ineffectual she was? There was nothing behind her that she could see, but his warning gave her little comfort. Morgan tensed, ready to run, but forced herself still. What could he really do to her? Kill her again? The knockers in the cave of voices had tried that. No luck there. “I was just walking,” she offered stupidly. And then she’d gotten a little rumbly and a little sad. And then the rabbit was just...there. She’d wanted to remember, and she’d liked the prospect of a meal after. But that wasn’t anything to explain to a stranger. “...I’m Morgan,” she said. Her name sounded strange in her own mouth as an introduction. She didn’t feel like Morgan, not as a matter of course, but there weren’t any other names she could offer in turn. “Morgan Beck,” she said again, shrugging. “If I’m following your advice, can I at least know who you are too?”

“I’m Ulfric. We’ve spoken before, Morgan,” Ulfric answered, the name jogging his memory of conversations he’d meant to follow on before he’d found himself spending all his free time playing guard dog. Morgan Beck; seller of rocks, lover of the outdoors and seemingly to be the only other person in town who knew the names of the full moons. The signals she’d been sending out online practically howled werewolf, and catching her midhunt in the middle of the woods would’ve confirmed his suspicions if it weren't for the fact that she was trying to catch her prey with her bare humanoid hands. Was this the influence of hunters then? She seemed rather under-responsive for someone who’d been cornered in the woods. Maybe they’d used wolfsbane to disorient her? Or maybe she was new enough to this to not believe what was happening was real? “Were you hoping to find something on your walk? Or is something looking for you?” He backed up, not taking his eyes on her, but motioning that she should follow as he continued to question her. “I can help you, Morgan, if you’re honest with me.”

“Ulfric…” Morgan had to dig back deep to remember that one. Everything before the crash, before Constance sent her into hyperdrive on a bullshit cursed errand. But she remembered him: the kind sounding man with the tattoo parlor, who drew and was away from his family and admired the moon and the flowers. Morgan relaxed her stance and followed behind him, casting one more look over her shoulder, just in case something was coming up behind them. No sign. “I remember you too, yeah,” she said. “You don’t seem like the kind to lead me into a murder pit or anything, but you can say if you are. Honesty’s the best policy,” she said, laughing dryly. “You seemed kind, is what I mean. And no, nothing is looking for me that I know of, though your warning about less forgiving people currently has me slightly spooked.” Not that anything would hurt even if she did find someone, but the sight of her bones reconstructing themselves and growing sinew still made her stomach turn. It didn’t feel cool or special. It felt wrong. She trotted a little closer to him. “I just need a way out of here. I don’t mean to be any trouble. I’m expected home soon.”

“Good, that’s what I intended.” Ulfric replied tersely when Morgan mentioned being spooked by his words of caution, but his posture relaxed slightly. With the new moon preventing him getting a read on her heart rate, he had to trust his gut on whether she was sincere but her earnest words seemed to suggest so. “I’ve got no intention of hurting anyone who doesn’t intend to hurt me,” he reassured her, not mentioning what he’d do to those intending to harm people he’d chosen to protect in order to keep from compromising the Bennetts’ safe haven. He also didn’t bother to press her on where exactly her ‘home’ was in case that tipped her evaluation of him more towards being the type who would have a murder pit, confident he could track her down by her business if he needed to. Instead the werewolf gestured with a finger to his lips that she should remain quiet, before turning to scan the trees ahead for threats, trusting that she wouldn’t be one as she trailed behind. The stoic silence continued until they reached a creek which he knew would lead them towards Torrance Street while giving the trailer where the young wolf and her sister were sheltering a wide berth. The flowing water deepened by melting snow also conveniently muffled his words as he spoke again. “Are you planning on hunting like this often? I wouldn’t recommend it in your… current state.” He said referring to her blunted teeth and nails and general dazed demeanour. “But I can give you some tips, if you really insist on it.”

Morgan didn’t mind the silence. In time, she fell in step with Ulfric’s pace and was able to lift up from herself, her own secret ghost, and float away to somewhere else like a runaway balloon. She barely noticed the terrain they passed and stopped only because Ulfric was too imposing a figure to miss even with her consciousness half missing. “O-oh,” she said. She hadn’t thought that far ahead, and she wasn’t sure what to make of Ulfric noticing how not-all-there she was. No one else felt compelled to comment on it, and the animals didn’t mind her. There were times when she felt invisible even to herself, the way she imagined ghosts felt all the time.  “I don’t know. Not if it’s gonna go like this,” she deadpanned. She realized, too late, that under the circumstances she ought to exercise a little more care. “I um...you know, it’s a weird story you probably don’t wanna know, but...I don’t have to, exactly. But in a pinch, well--if you did know how to do that without having to get, like, a gun or anything, that would be appreciated. For in a pinch.”

“No guns,” Ulfric agreed, scowling in distaste at the suggestion. “You’ll want to work on your approach. No offence, but you’re easy to hear coming”. As he picked up the pace to lead Morgan out of his domain, he rattled off the instructions that had been drilled into him a million times before his parents had deemed him ready for tracking prey in human form. “When you have locked on to your target, try moving towards it with one foot directly in front of the other, like you're walking on a tightrope. That’ll force you to focus on evenly distributing your weight.” He slowed for a moment demonstrating along the ridge of the creek’s edge for a few paces. “You don’t want to bring your whole foot down at once either. Just make contact heel and then roll it forward. If you feel something unstable, just shift it softly to the side.” He brought the toe of one worn boot gently down against a brittle branch on the forest floor but slid off it silently pushing it aside before it could break. That way you won’t snap every twig between here and Bangor.” Noticing a small cross carved into the trunk of a pine ahead, marking the outer boundary of his homestead proper, he turned back to Morgan and held his hand out for her to stop. “Wait here, and I call you ahead in a moment,” Ulfric ordered. “Or you could try and sneak up on me. You could use the practice.” His tone grew a touch more friendly at the amusing mental picture. “I wouldn’t go running off in any other direction though, don’t want to lose your way again.”

Morgan was pretty sure that general incompetence at anything outside her niche fields of expertise hadn’t been what Deirdre meant when she said the bones of herself remained. And it had been, Morgan wanted to petition the underworld for better bones to preserve. She followed Ulfric’s instructions as he gave them, recentering herself awkwardly as her center of gravity shifted. He wasn’t kidding about the focus part. She did her best with the placement of her feet, although it brought back shameful memories of her brief stint in ballet class. She wobbled in the leaves as her thoughts wandered into those dusty alive memories and snapped back to attention with a sheepish expression.

“Yeah, don’t worry about that,” Morgan deadpanned. She rolled her eyes ruefully and smirked at the suggestion she could successfully sneak, but as soon as Ulfric had put some distance from her, Morgan felt a pull to test him on his suggestion. Slowly, centering herself on her toes first, she began to creep, one foot directly in front of the other. Slow and mindful of the twigs. The wind rose around her and she winced, wondering how much of the rustling grass was her, and how much was the restless earth. She adjusted herself and continued until she was close enough to call, “Boo!”

Ulfric surged ahead of Morgan, breaking through the tree line. With a sigh of relief he saw that all the lights in his trailer were off, the silhouette of the structure that stood on the opposite side of the clearing barely distinguishable from the dense curtain of forest behind it. Even if her eyesight was as good as his in the dark, he was fairly certain she’d miss it without knowing where to look for it. Confident that the Bennets were safely concealed, he made to call back to the strange straggler he’d picked up in the woods, but picked on the soft swish of frost dampened grass a few feet behind him. Pivoting on the spot, he turned to face Morgan just as she’d uttered her triumphant exclamation. “Better,” He offered her gruff but sincere praise. She was a fast learner, and now he was relatively sure she wasn’t a threat, at least not to anyone but herself, that could be considered a positive. “You’ll need to practice until you can do it without really thinking. But for now, it’s a start. Come on,” he ushered her along at an unforgiving speed, keen to get her far away from where his unlikely wards were hiding. Before long they came to a fence, which he swiftly climbed over, extending a hand to help her do the same once he was on the other side. “The road’s just here, heading east will take you back towards town. Don’t linger too long. I was serious about there being things less friendly than me lurking in these woods,” Ulfric instructed her, glad to be able to return to his watch duty, but a little disappointed he hadn’t been able to figure her out; was she an inexperienced and admittedly very strange wolf as he suspected? Or something unknown and even stranger? “I would like to hear that long story though, when it’s a better time.”

Morgan deflated with a half-hearted huff as Ulfric turned, knowing exactly where she was behind him, perhaps even the whole time. Still, it was kind of him to smile and tell her she was getting better. If things got scarce at the butcher’s, she might be able to rely on his advice to actually help her catch something. She wobbled over the fence, strong but inexperienced in using her body this way. She held on tight to Ulfric’s sleeve the whole way down. “Thank you,” she told him. “I appreciate it, really.” He even seemed to mean it when he said he wanted to know what her story was. And his voice was so kind she wanted to believe him. She winced, knowing with her luck it wasn’t true. “Not sure I know how to tell it in a way you’d believe,” she said. “But you are someone I’d like to know. Maybe I’ll scrape enough dollars together to come into your shop sometime soon, if that’s, um, if that would be okay?” She began to inch towards the road. She was still learning how to be around people besides Deirdre; so far that was adding up to a lot of awkward and apology.

“You’re welcome,” Ulfric replied, easing her onto the ground, though he wasn’t sure how helpful he’d actually been. At best he’d reduced her chances of running into one vicious cabal of hunters for one night, but there were bound to be more out there and he doubted the way in which she seemed lost could be fixed by something as simple as directions back to town. At Morgan’s suggestion that he’d find her story far-fetched, he scoffed. “I think you’d be surprised what I’m capable of believing.” He was fairly certain the bar for what he’d considered unbelievable had dropped a few feet from its already low starting point since he’d lived in White Crest, the only thing he was skeptical of now was that there was anything left in the world that could shock him. “You would be welcome to stop by,” He insisted, hopeful that she would find him again despite the cautious reception and his eagerness to send her away for the time being. There would come a time when her disorientation would pose more of a threat to her than the chance of being caught in the crossfire of the Bennett’s bounty, and he would miss their chats if she fell victim to dangers she wasn’t aware of.  “Don’t stray from the road,” the werewolf called out a final instruction, but he was already fading back into the forest, adopting again the familiar cloak of shadows and silence that would conceal him as he waited for signs of his intended quarry.

[here4theheartbreak]

Lost & Found (NamJinSeok)

AO3 Link Here!

Relationships: Hoseok x Jin x Namjoon

Genre(s): fluff

Rating: General Audiences

Written for @btspolyshipbingo

Square Filled: Lost

Tags: fluff, getting together, no sex, mutual pining, first kiss, faerie AU, faerie!Jin

Summary: Hoseok and Namjoon get caught in a flash flood while hiking. A mysterious man saves them, claiming to be a supernatural creature. He’s crazy, right?

Word Count: ~5.8k

It was not Hoseok’s idea of a good time to go hiking in the wilderness during the rainy season. Not that that stopped him from going along with the idea when it was Namjoon that suggested it. They had been friends since childhood, and Hoseok had been sporting the most maddening crush on the beautiful, big brained man for almost as long. Though they’d both had their fair share of attempts at relationships outside of their own friendship, Hoseok knew that he was simply not Namjoon’s type. He had settled on that understanding and had made his peace with it. As long as Namjoon was his friend, hopefully that would remain enough.

But here they were, miles away from civilization, off the mapped paths, with one broken phone and the other lacking service. And the downpour had only increased in the last hour, washing away any possibility of following their own footprints back the way they came.

The two were huddled under a tree that offered little protection from the torrents of icy cold rain. Namjoon was digging in his bag, searching for something.

“Would you be still!” Hoseok snapped, a little surprised at his own sharpness. He normally remained patient with Namjoon; a side effect of the crush he supposed, but this was his last straw. He was wet, cold, starving, and starting to seriously fear that they weren’t going to make it out of this alive.

Namjoon went still, looking at Hoseok. Though the night was dark, moon barely shining light down with the clouds and rain, Hoseok could see guilt written all over his face. His shoulders slumped. “We need to find some place more out of the rain!” He shouted over the downpour. “Do you know where we are at all?”

Namjoon shook his head. “I was looking for the map I’d put in the bag but it’s been soaked, I couldn’t look at it even if we had enough light to!”

“The water is rising, we have to move!” Hoseok warned, pointing toward the stream they’d been hiking along. Sure enough, the water was rising steadily, widening the stream and rising to the outcropping they’d taken refuge on.

Namjoon nodded. He pointed toward another large tree up a small hill.

“We can’t make that, it’s a wall of mud!”

“We have to try or drown!” Namjoon shouted. He grabbed Hoseok’s hand. “I won’t let you fall!”

Hoseok nodded, trying to swallow his fear down. They dove out from under the shoddy cover of the tree, both shouting into the darkness as the water pelted them full force with large, stinging drops. Namjoon nearly dragged Hoseok toward the hill, snagging a low hanging branch and using it to begin pulling himself up. Hoseok followed, their hands still locked as they struggled up the embankment.

A roar from above them made Hoseok’s blood run cold. He opened his mouth to shout to Namjoon when the sound reached a crescendo. A blanket of water rocketed over the top of the hill they were working their way up, knocking loose the mud they were using to climb and sending them tumbling down the embankment toward the already raging river.

Namjoon’s hand tightened on his, their fingers twining together. Hoseok screwed his eyes shut, afraid to open his mouth or breathe with the water splashing over his face. Rocks and sticks were pummeling his body, his bones screaming for relief. His lungs began to burn for oxygen, but there was no chance to breathe now, submerged under the water.

Namjoon’s hand loosened and then slipped from Hoseok’s grip. He wanted to scream; he couldn’t make it out of this without Namjoon. Spots danced against his eyelids, consciousness slipping. It was becoming so much harder to not breathe. It would be so easy to just let go, let the darkness take over. Especially now without Namjoon…

Something caught the back of Hoseok’s coat, stopping him from flowing further down the river. It yanked upward, and he was pulled from the water. He dragged in a desperate breath, opening his eyes. Lightheadedness clouded his vision, but he could have sworn the last thing he saw before passing out was a beautiful man with a glowing golden aura… And crimson red wings jutting from his broad back.

Hoseok’s stomach was what woke him first, if he was being honest. The gnawing hunger in the pit of his stomach reminding him the last thing he remembered eating was a quick breakfast and a shared granola bar with Namjoon on the trail. Namjoon—

Hoseok’s eyes shot open. He sat up, a rush of nausea making him sway.

“Whoa, whoa, take it slow, Hobi,” Namjoon’s voice was warm and soothing. Hoseok looked over, tears welling in his eyes. Namjoon was sitting next to him, dry and in one piece, save for a small scratch across his cheek. A fire crackled next to him. Hoseok flung his arms around Namjoon’s neck, nuzzling against him.

“I thought you were dead,” he whispered.

“Almost… But I’m here.”

“How? I felt you let go of my hand and then something… Pulled. I was losing my mind, I saw—I thought I saw a man with wings. I must have been hallucinating.”

The clearing of a throat drew Hoseok’s attention toward the fire. Sitting on the other side of it was a tall man. He was dressed in pure white, his black hair a stark contrast, hanging down almost over his eyes. His shoulders were broad and firm.

“You! I saw you!” Hoseok cried. “But—You had… Wings.”

“Well…” The man chuckled a little, tilting his head. “I still have them, I suppose. You just can’t quite see them.”

Hoseok looked at Namjoon, who shrugged sheepishly. “I thought he was a lunatic.”

“It’s been said.” The man rose and leaned over the fire, sticking his hand out. “My name is Jin.”

“H—Hoseok.”

“Nice to meet you. It was me that saved you, yes. Are you okay? Are you hungry?” Jin sat back and turned, grabbing a basket of fruits and vegetables. “I’m afraid the rain has destroyed all chance of catching some meat, but I do have this.” He passed the basket to Hoseok, who picked up an apple and turned it in his hand.

“Why did you think he was a lunatic?” He asked hesitantly, looking at Namjoon.

“Because I’m a faerie.”

Hoseok froze with the apple poised to bite. He glanced at it and set it back in the basket. “Excuse me?”

Jin smiled broadly. “I’m a faerie. The wings were real.”

“How many mushrooms have you eaten?” Hoseok asked. Jin laughed then, an abrasive squeaking noise echoing through the cave. Hoseok winced visibly.

“I know you think I’m crazy. Ask your boyfriend though.”

“Oh, he’s not—”

“We’re not—” They both started at the same time, raising their hands in defense. Jin cocked one eyebrow, a small smile curving his lips.

“That so?”

Namjoon cleared his throat and turned to Hoseok. “It’s crazy but he… Is. I woke up when he was… Bringing us back here, this is his home. I saw his wings,” he said in a hushed tone as if Jin wasn’t there and couldn’t hear everything.

“His wings… Namjoonie, did you hit your head?”

“You know me, Hobi. You know I don’t believe this crap. He’s telling the truth.”

“So where are your wings now?” Hoseok challenged, chin jutting defiantly.

“That’s where it gets complicated. I’m not really… A full faerie. Not anymore,” Jin said softly, his smile drooping from his face. He sat up straighter and stripped out of his shirt, turning around. His back was covered in an intricate tribal tattoo. It ran in jagged lines from his shoulders downward to his lower back in the shape of wings. The majority of the tattoo was black, dotted with blood red points at various junctures of the design.

“It is hard for me to display my wings as… They should be. Saving you two, carrying you back in flight – It wore me out. I can’t, even if I wanted to.” He sat back down, tossing his shirt aside.

“What do you mean you’re not full faerie anymore?” Hoseok pressed.

“I was disowned. My family. But when a fae clan disowns one of their own, it breaks us. We’re pack animals, I guess. It weakens us and makes us more human-like.”

“You don’t really believe this, do you?” Hoseok asked Namjoon.

“I didn’t want to. But I woke up and I was being carried. Six feet above a rushing flood of water, by a man flying. You and me in his arms. He set me down in the cave, just like this and I—I saw it, Hoseok. I know it seems nuts but I saw it. He’s not a human.”

Hoseok scowled, still wondering how possible it was that Namjoon had some sort of head injury.

“Say I believe this crazy… And I can’t believe you believe it, Namjoon. You’re the most rational of our friend group. But say I believe it… Why were you disowned?”

“I broke one of our rules.”

“Which was?”

Jin lowered his gaze to the fire. “I fell in love with a human. And showed him what I was. There are legends of our kind, sure… But to give a human definitive proof – that’s a cardinal sin. Most of the stories humans tell about us are from those like me that were brazen enough to share ourselves with humans… And they usually paid with their lives or their magic.”

“But you?” Namjoon asked.

“I paid with the blood of my lover. Many years ago… I’ve been alone, hiding, since.”

“How old are you?” Hoseok asked. “You look our age.”

“Hundreds of years old. But I am more rapidly aging now. I would gather I have about the lifespan of a human left – sixty years maybe? Seventy?” He shrugged. “When you’ve existed in solitude as long as I have now, time doesn’t matter. Maybe that’s why I saved you two. You were quite lost.”

“Yeah, the raging river really helped with that.”

Jin laughed again. “You’re a fighter. I mean before the rain though. I was watching you two.” He smiled almost shyly, hiding his mouth under his hand.

“You were watching us?” Namjoon clarified.

“I wanted to make sure you didn’t stumbled on my cave. You were close before you got turned around. And… I was bored. Curious. I haven’t seen humans in many years.”

“You talk like we’re so foreign, but you look exactly like us, except the wing tattoo.”

“Hm… I do. Or do you look like my kind?” Jin flashed a playful smile and hopped to his feet, lithe despite his imposing size. “Want to play a game?”

“A game?” Hoseok glanced up toward the top of the cave where the rain could still be heard audibly coming down in torrents. “Not sure this is a good time to play.”

“Oh no, in the caves. Come on.” Jin held out his hands for the two of them. Hoseok looked over at Namjoon, who shrugged.

“You’re shrugging? At a strange man who says he’s a faerie… Wanting to lead us through a cave system?”

“He did save us. And there’s nothing better to do. Let’s go.” Namjoon took Jin’s hand and rose. Hoseok frowned a little, a little twist forming in the pit of his stomach when Namjoon smiled over at Jin. He was all too familiar with that feeling after this many years, and that look from Namjoon. Namjoon was interested in Jin, and he’d end up being a third wheel by the end of the night. Still, Hoseok rose, following after the two as Jin led them down a winding passageway.

The trio stopped in a wide area with four different tunnels, not including the one that they had come from.

“Hide and seek,” Jin said, a gleeful lilt in his tone.

“Are you kidding? We’re gonna get lost,” Namjoon argued.

“No you won’t, trust me. I’ve lived in these caves for years. I know every way in and out. Who wants to be the seeker first?”

Hoseok and Namjoon shared a glance. Jin beamed. “I’ll sweeten the deal… If you find me you get a kiss.”

“What?” Hoseok spluttered. Namjoon’s entire face went red.

“It’s lucky. Kiss from a faerie and you’ll have luck to spare.”

He winked. “Find me. Call my name if you need help… You can even both work together, if you’d like… But I might ask for something if you do.”

“What?” Namjoon asked. Jin beamed and thumbed his nose. “Guess you’ll have to find out when you find me. Close your eyes and count to twenty.”

Namjoon shrugged and shut his eyes. Hoseok followed suit, listening for any sound of Jin’s movement as they began to count aloud to twenty.

“Which way?” Namjoon asked when they’d reached the right number.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. I have good ears, but I didn’t even hear him move.”

“Should we just pick a random way?”

Hoseok scowled, looking at each of the openings. They were all lit by some sort of glow that Hoseok assumed was fire.

“Which way would you go?”

“This one.” Namjoon pointed to the path directly opposite to the route they took to reach the divide. “We didn’t feel him walk past us so he probably just backed up.”

“Logical… But I don’t think so. That’s too obvious.”

“Wanna split up?”

“What if we get lost?”

Namjoon shrugged. “He said he’d make sure we didn’t.”

“Do you really trust him, Namjoon? I mean… You’re so rational but it’s like you’re in complete belief of this guy.”

Namjoon shrugged. “I am the rational one… But maybe... What if my rationale has caused me to miss all of this magic in the world? Then what is it for? I know what I saw. He’s not human. Can’t you feel it? The… Power coming off him?”

Hoseok snorted, turning and heading down the leftmost branch. “I think that’s pheromones, Joonie.”

“What?” Namjoon jogged to catch up with him. He stumbled over a ridge in the path and Hoseok turned, catching him without thought.

“Thanks…” Namjoon looked up at Hoseok, smiling sheepishly.

That old familiar double rapid pounding off his heart picked up when he realized Namjoon’s lips were so close to his. Just a shift… Easy… Hoseok cleared his throat and straighten up, helping right Namjoon. He dusted off his shirt and kept walking.

“What did you mean by pheromones?” Namjoon pushed.

“He wants to fuck you.” Hoseok’s tone was flat and simple, but something in his words must have startled Namjoon, because he stopped. It took Hoseok a moment to realize he wasn’t following him anymore. He looked back, raising an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Did you just… Say he wants to fuck me?”

“Did I stutter?”

Namjoon shook his head. “He’s been flirting with you since you woke up, Hobi.”

Hoseok snorted. “You must have hit your head.”

Namjoon frowned, tilting his head a little. “Not that I recall.”

“Come on, let’s just find him and be done with this. Who decides to play hide and seek in a damn cave in a rainstorm?” “Well, if he is a faerie, they’re known to be mischievous, even to the point of being troublesome and poltergeist like. A game of hide and seek in a potentially dangerous location qualifies as that, I think.”

“Since when are you the Tinkerbell expert?” Hoseok asked, his shoulders hunched as he started down the path again.

“Well, I mean - just because I don’t… Didn’t… Believe, doesn’t mean I didn’t find mythical creatures interesting. I mean sure, trolls and goblins aren’t real but their mythology is interesting. Wait…”

“What?” Hoseok asked, glancing back. Namjoon was still following behind him, scowling. “If faeries actually are real… Does that mean other myths are too? Trolls, goblins, dragons, unicorns…”

“Sure, Namjoonie. Yoongi has a unicorn in his backyard, didn’t you know?” Hoseok teased. Namjoon scowled, his eyes narrowing.

“Not funny.”

“Kinda funny. You’re cracking up, Namjoon. Fantasy creatures aren’t real.”

“Look, you know me, Hobi.” Namjoon grabbed his wrist to stop him and make him face him. “You know I’m logical and clever and I think things though, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, please… This guy isn’t… He’s not human, Hoseok. Please believe me. You said you saw his wings too.”

“I don’t know what I saw.”

Namjoon stayed silent a moment, just watching Hoseok. Though he was saying nothing, Hoseok’s resolve began to crumble, and he shifted from foot to foot. “Okay. Fine. I admit… There’s something weird about him.  I don’t know if it’s… Magic… But he’s not quite…”

“Human.” Namjoon filled in. Hoseok shrugged.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Namjoon nodded, seemingly satisfied with Hoseok’s admittance, and headed back down the path they were going.

The two reached the end of the path without finding any sign of Jin. They turned back, discussing softly which route to take next.

“I mean… What do you think? What would you do to really try to trick someone?” Hoseok asked.

“Well…” Namjoon looked around at each of the branches of the cave. Hoseok wasn’t sure exactly what he was looking for; they all looked the same. Namjoon’s brows furrowed.

“Well…”

“What are you thinking with that big old brain of yours?” Hoseok half joked.

“Well…” Namjoon turned back the way they came. “If I wanted to fuck with someone and play a really good trick… I’d go back the way we came and sit by the nice warm fire while they searched all these dead ends.”

Hoseok’s brows shot up. “That’s a good point… Think he did?”

“Maybe. But wait… Didn’t he say when we found him he’d have us do something if we worked together?”

“What do you think that means?” Hoseok asked.

“I guess there’s only one way to find out.” Namjoon headed down the path they had originally taken, back toward the entrance of the cave and the warm fire.

To neither of their surprise, when they entered the cavern that they had started in, Jin was stretched out beside the fire, still bare chested, munching on a handful of berries. He beamed at the two brightly, eyes shining in the firelight. “You found me.”

“You’re a trickster,” Hoseok teased. Jin’s grin widened.

“Not really. Tricksters are so much more mean. I just have fun. I guess you two earned your kisses.” He winked.

“You said if we worked together we’d need to do something for you. What is it?” Namjoon asked.

“Right! I did. Come sit over here with me.” He shifted and moved back onto a soft pile of bedding, criss-crossing his legs. Namjoon and Hoseok crossed over, sitting on the bedding with him. He turned and faced them, still smiling. He held out his hand. In his palm were two pieces of fruit, small and berry like. They were both a shade of orange so vibrant they looked fake.

“What’s this?”

“Take them. Don’t eat them yet, I need to tell you what they are.”

The two obeyed, examining the berries up close.

“These aren’t normal fruit. They’re from my realm. I mean -- So fae and humans live in the same realm technically, but we have passageways into different worlds. One of which these came from.”

“And what are these?” Namjoon asked.

“Have you ever heard of sodium pentothal?”

Hoseok shook his head but Namjoon nodded. “Yeah, truth serum, right? It’s not really, but they used to think it was.”

“Right. Do you know how it came into being?”

Namjoon shook his head.

“Supposedly an American chemist in the 1930’s discovered it. It was really useful as an anesthesia, but he was searching for something else.” Jin pointed to the berries in their hands. “His family was from Germany. They’d met fae and learned about - experienced, what these fruits do. He was obsessed with finding an equivalent to these in this world. Sodium thiopental - pentothal - was the closest thing he could find. But it wasn’t real.”

“Are you saying these are like a truth serum?” Namjoon asked. Jin nodded.

“Yes. They’re short acting. One berry for one or two questions. Entirely safe in small doses, but I wouldn’t take more than two or three max.”

“So why are you showing us these?”

“Because, you worked together to find me, so what I want is one answer from each of you. Eat it, I ask a question, you answer.”

“How do we know this is what you say it is?” Hoseok worried.

“If you’re afraid it’s poison, I’ll eat one too.” He plucked the berry from Hoseok’s fingers and popped it into his mouth, chewing. His nose scrunched as he swallowed. “Sour. Go ahead. Ask a question.”

“Are you really a mythological creature?” Hoseok asked.

“Grey area. To you, yes. Fae are myths. To me, no, I’m just a faerie.”

“What are you going to do with us?” Namjoon asked next, quickly.

“Keep you safe through the storm. Then I’ll help you find your path when it’s over so you can go home.”

Namjoon and Hoseok exchanged a glance. Hoseok shrugged. Jin held out another berry to Hoseok.

“Your turn.”

“Who first?”

“Hm… You.” Jin jutted his chin toward Hoseok. He nodded and took a deep breath before popping the berry into his mouth. He grimaced while chewing it.

“Too sour,” he complained.

“Sorry, they’re kinda bitter. I only have one question for you. How do you feel about Namjoon?”

Hoseok’s eyebrows shot up as he swallowed. “He’s my best friend,” he said without hesitation.

“But there’s more,” Jin pressed.

“Well, of course. I’ve been in love with him since we were young.” Hoseok’s eyes bulged and he slapped his hand over his mouth, looking over at the wide eyed Namjoon.

“You have?” Namjoon spluttered.

“Tell me more,” Jin pressed. “Why doesn’t he know?” Hoseok’s shoulders slumped. He let his hands fall to his lap, refusing to look at either of them as he spoke.

“Well, he’s my friend. He’s my closest friend and I didn’t want to lose him because he’s not interested in me. His type is… Well, guys like you. Not guys like me. So I just figured that if I was his friend that would be good enough… It’d be all I’d ever get.”

“Hobi,” Namjoon whispered.

“Your turn, Namjoon,” Jin said, motioning to the berry. He ate it without hesitation.

“Ask.”

“What do you feel about Hoseok?”

“I didn’t need the berry for this… I love the guy. He’s my world. He’s the only person who’s been there consistently for me since we were little. He’s held me up through every heartbreak and he’s the only person I trust with my whole heart.”

“So why haven’t you asked him to date you?”

“Because I didn’t think he was interested in me. For as smart as I am, I’m an idiot and I’m not very good looking and I’m kinda clumsy and dumb sometimes. He deserves so much more.”

“What?” Hoseok shouted, startling Namjoon. “You think I deserve more? I’ve been pining over you for years!”

Jin smirked a little. “Here’s where you apologize and kiss him, Namjoon,” he whispered. Namjoon looked over, his eyes going a little wide. Hoseok’s shoulders slumped.

“I mean… I wouldn’t mind that… If you wanted to…” He mumbled, feeling a little shy at Jin’s blatant suggestion.

“Wait… Before anything..” Namjoon pointed to Jin. “Why? You’ve been flirting with Hobi all night.”

“Was I?”

“No he was flirting with you,” Hoseok argued. “Question still stands but…”

“Oh, was I?”

Jin smiled a little. “Does it occur to either of you I might have been flirting with both of you?”

“Why still?” Namjoon asked. “We were dumb to our feelings… You could’ve had either one of us.”

“Most humans won’t date faeries, even if I did want you. Plus, I could see you liked each other. Just because I like you doesn’t mean I get to take you from someone who clearly has your heart.”

“Who says my heart is only big enough for one person?” Namjoon shot back.

Hoseok’s heart leapt into his throat. He looked over at Jin as well, noticing the softness in his beautiful features, and the almost sad depth of his dark eyes.

“You also promised us a kiss.”

“Oh, I did,” Jin said, meeting Hoseok’s gaze. “The kiss of a faerie is good luck… If you want it.”

“Kiss him first,” Hoseok whispered, motioning to Namjoon.

“Why?”

“I…” Hoseok frowned a little, his brows furrowed in thought. “I’m not sure. I just want to see it.”

“Of course.” Jin looked to Namjoon, eyebrows raised. Namjoon looked over at Hoseok. He leaned forward, pressing his lips lightly against Jin’s. Jin cupped his cheeks, deepening the kiss.  

Hoseok gasped softly. He was sure it was just a trick of his eyes, but he was sure he saw a shimmer of something when their lips met.

Jin pulled back and brushed his nose over Namjoon’s. “There you go… Though with how unlucky you tend to be, you might need more than one kiss to counteract that.”

Namjoon chuckled. “How do you know I’m unlucky?”

“Call it a hunch.” He leaned forward and pressed another chaste kiss to Namjoon’s mouth before looking over at Hoseok. “Your turn.”

Hoseok shifted forward, knowing he probably looked terrified. Jin smiled patiently. “Haven’t done this much, hm?”

“Kissed strange men who claim they’re mythical beings with wings? No, can’t say I have… What was that… Spark that I saw?”

“Spark?” Namjoon asked.

“Hm… I don’t know. Guess we’ll have to see if Namjoon sees it when I kiss you,” Jin said, his mouth quirking up further to make his smile more mischievous. He closed the gap between their mouths quicky, earning a surprised squeak from Hoseok.

Jin tasted of watermelon and citrus, his lips smooth and steady. Hoseok’s heart skipped a beat when Jin touched his cheek. He deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue along Jin’s soft bottom lip. Jin gave in, their tongues brushing together. Hoseok could feel Namjoon staring, but he didn’t feel embarrassed. If anything, he enjoyed it. And the knowledge that he’d soon be kissing Namjoon’s mouth was just as exciting.

Hoseok broke the kiss only when he couldn’t catch his breath, pulling back just enough to gasp in a quick breath. Namjoon swore softly.

“That was… Hot as hell,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I almost don’t wanna ask you to kiss me.”

“Why not?” Hoseok asked.

“You two… Look so good.”

“And you two will as well,” Jin assured him.

“Namjoonie.” Hoseok grabbed Namjoon’s shirt and dragged him close, their mouths slotting together perfectly. Namjoon relaxed against Hoseok’s body and his heart did a little flip of joy. He cupped Namjoon’s face, deepening the kiss. He wasn’t sure what would happen once they left this cave, and he wanted to remember this moment forever.

When they separated, Namjoon’s cheeks were beautifully mottled. He laughed a nervous little laugh and rubbed the back of his neck before looking over at Jin.

“May I kiss you again?” Jin asked softly.

“Wh-- Yeah.”

Jin leaned forward, starting slow but deepening the kiss quickly. Hoseok wet his lips, unable to tear his eyes away. Instead of the jealousy he had felt prior, he now felt an arousal all the way to his core. He reached out, running the tips of his fingers over Jin’s broad, bare shoulder and down his chest. Jin gasped lightly into Namjoon’s mouth when Hoseok brushed over his nipple.

Feeling brazen, Hoseok repeated the action and moved a little closer, sliding his hand lower. He circled the tip of his finger around Jin’s belly button before brushing over the waistband of his pants. He broke the kiss with Namjoon, meeting Hoseok’s gaze.

“Are you coming onto me, Hoseok?” He panted. Hoseok smirked.

“Maybe.”

“What’s gotten into you?” Namjoon asked, just as breathless. He was smiling as he spoke.

“I don’t know, honestly,” Hoseok admitted. “You didn’t… Do anything to us, did you?” He worried.

“Not at all. Sometimes being… Sometimes our magic can enhance a feeling, but it doesn’t put anything there that wasn’t already. I promise you that, I would do nothing without your complete consent.”

Hoseok nodded. “I believe you.”

“You do? What happened to, we must have hit our heads and he can’t be magical?” Namjoon teased, sliding his hand over Hoseok’s thigh.

Hoseok shrugged. “I guess he made a believer out of me.”

Namjoon licked his lips. He looked down at his hands. “So… What now?”

“You should rest,” Jin said. He took one of their hands in each of his. “Tomorrow it should stop raining. I’ll lead you to the right path home. And you two can start your lives together.” He released their hands and touched their jaws, smiling brightly.

Despite his comforting words, Hoseok felt uneasy. There was something wrong about this, he just couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

“Lay with us?” Namjoon asked.

“You want me to?”

Namjoon nodded. Jin looked over at Hoseok, who nodded quickly as well. “Please.”

“Alright.” Jin rose and pulled over the other mat of blankets that Hoseok had woken up on. He laid them side by side and stretched out, worming his way under one of the blankets. “Come on then.”

Namjoon pressed himself against Jin, and Hoseok slid in behind him, brushing his lips over Namjoon’s shoulder.

“Hey, Jin…” He began. “Th—“

Jin reached out, placing two fingers over Hoseok’s mouth, silencing him.

“Don’t.”

“Why?” Hoseok asked.

“Because you never thank a fae. Do that and they’ll stay with you forever. At least… Until they have to call in thag debt.” He winked. “I know it. You don’t need to say it.”

Hoseok smiled a little and nodded. “As long as you know.”

Jin leaned over Namjoon and pressed a chaste kiss to Hoseok’s mouth.

“Rest.”

The three snuggled further under the blanket. The torrent of rain and crackling of the fire soothed them as they slipped to sleep in one another’s arms.

The next morning, after a breakfast of fruits, Jin led the two out of the cave. The trees were sagging with water and the ground was squishy with mud piled inches high. Hoseok held Namjoon’s hand as Jin led them without words. He reached out when they’d been walking a bit, touching Jin’s hand.

“Hey… Last night.”

“Don’t mention it,” Jin said. He glanced back and nodded toward their linked hands. “Meant to be.” Hoseok didn’t miss the small, sad smile, or the squeeze before he dropped his hands.

“The path!” Namjoon cried in surprise when Jin led them around a small cluster of trees nearly an hour later. “We were so lost.”

“You wandered a long way from the path,” Jin agreed, stopping at the side of the rock paved path. A lot of it had been washed away or otherwise destroyed by the flooding, but it was still visible, winding down the hill and toward where Hoseok hoped their car was still parked.

Jin turned around and smiled at them. “I am glad I could help you find your way. Both… To the path and to each other.” He pressed a kiss to Namjoon’s cheek and then Hoseok’s before circling around them and heading back into the woods.

Hoseok glanced at Namjoon before calling out. “Jin, wait!”

Jin turned back. “What?”

Hoseok rushed up to him, pressing a kiss to his mouth. He held Jin’s cheeks. “Thank you.” He said firmly.

Jin’s eyes widened a little. “Hoseok--”

“I know. I remember what you said last night. Thank you, Jin.” He kissed him again before walking back to Namjoon. They both looked back at Jin, who was still standing in the same place, his cheeks mottled pink and his expression unreadable.

“Let’s go home,” Namjoon whispered, still looking at Jin. They turned back and headed down the path toward their freedom.

Once in the car, Hoseok slumped in the seat. “Why do you think he stayed?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe he didn’t want to be around us.”

“It felt…” Hoseok shrugged. He started the car and headed toward their home. “So what do we do?”

“I want to take you on a legit date… For real. I’m sorry I didn’t see it before.”

“Guess I’m just a good actor.” Hoseok chuckled without much humor.

“I can’t stop thinking about Jin,” Namjoon admitted after a few minutes of silence.

“Me neither. All alone in the woods… He said his family had left him… He’s got no one… Why didn’t he understand what we meant when I thanked him?”

Namjoon shrugged softly. “I don’t know. I wish he would have… I didn’t mean to… Fall for him.”

“Neither did I. I thought he was nuts.” Hoseok chuckled. He reached over, taking Namjoon’s hand. “But I’m glad he led us to each other.”

“You wanna come in for a while?” Namjoon asked when they arrived at his small apartment.

“I’d love to.”

The two entered, still walking close enough to bump shoulders. “Water?”

“Dying of thirst.”

The two walked into the kitchen. Namjoon shouted and Hoseok swore.

Jin was perched on the kitchen counter, a pair of stone-washed white jeans and a nice white button up. His hair was combed neatly, and his bright red and black wings were on proud display. He beamed at the two.

“You know what happens when you give thanks to a fae, guys?” He asked, hopping off the counter. His wings folded behind him, disappearing as easily as if they had never been there. It took a moment for the two to answer.

“Wh-- You don’t leave them alone?” Hoseok stuttered.

“Mm. Better yet… You let us in. We can stick around, pester you…” He circled around the two. He brushed his lips over Namjoon’s neck and then Hoseok’s ear. “Fuck around with you… Make your life a living hell… Or heaven… Depending on how you treat us.”

“And what if we treat you like you’re a part of our relationship?” Namjoon asked.

“Then you might be getting more of those lucky kisses than you know what to do with.”

Hoseok turned, cupping Jin’s cheek with one hand. “Tell me, faerie boy… If your kisses are lucky… What do more intimate things do for us humans?” He slid his hand up Jin’s thigh.

Jin’s eyes fluttered shut. “Not sure… But I’d love to find out.”

Namjoon went forward, nosing his way over to kiss Jin’s mouth. Hoseok kissed over his neck.

“My bedroom,” Namjoon mumbled. Hoseok nodded. He grabbed Jin’s hand and Namjoon’s smiling softly at them both.

As they made their way to the bedroom, stealing kisses, Hoseok’s heart swelled. When he’d started in on that stupid hike with Namjoon it was just to appease his friend, his secret crush that he never had a chance in hell with. Now he was going to bed with not only the man he’d wanted for years, but the man… Sort of man, that had brought them together, and that he’d possibly fallen for in the process. He’d never been happier. Maybe losing their way that night was the only way to find the right path to their destinies.

[yascaret]

really LONG CHARACTER SURVEY.

(I edited/removed some of the questions to make this more FFXIV-friendly)

RULES.  Repost,  don’t  reblog  ! Tag  10  !  Good  luck!

TAGGED BY.  No one, I just wanted to do it lol

TAGGING. @gvnbreaker @wood-warder @necrologos @finishing-touch @glory-bound @vysaldhe @violet-warder @whisperingdawn and anyone else who wants to do it!

BASICS.

FULL  NAME :   Lofn Yascaret

NICKNAME :  None (yet??)

AGE :  Appears around 30 by hyur standards 

BIRTHDAY :   Midwinter 

ETHNIC  GROUP : Viera (Rava)

NATIONALITY :  Ivalician (?)

LANGUAGE / S : Common

SEXUAL  ORIENTATION :  Homosexual

ROMANTIC  ORIENTATION : Homoromantic

RELATIONSHIP  STATUS :  In a relationship with Aja Hyskaris & Pjel Qoet

HOME  TOWN / AREA :  Yascaret, Golmore

CURRENT  HOME :  A small, cluttered house in Shirogane

PROFESSION : Disaster lesbian, whiner

PHYSICAL.

HAIR : White with faint violet undertones. Thick, heavy bangs that partially obscure her eyes. Her hair is very dense and wavy, and it reaches her waist when loose.

EYES :   Violet, but the left is considerably paler than the right

FACE :   Pretty, if melancholy. Pronounced cheeks, prominent nose, striking profile. 

LIPS :  Small, but full. Usually painted a dark brown.

COMPLEXION : A dark, barely warm brown. Mottled with white “freckles” in places (nose, cheeks, shoulders, breasts, lower back)

BLEMISHES : None of note

SCARS :  A few old, faded scars here and there from a life long left behind her

TATTOOS :  None

HEIGHT :   Nearly seven fulms

WEIGHT :   Average

BUILD :   Slim, but more bottom-heavy. Her upper arms are the only indication of muscle left from the Wood.

FEATURES :   Feminine, pleasant (by viera standards, at least). Has a very defined nose and a striking profile. Heavy-lidded eyes that naturally lend to melancholy expressions.

ALLERGIES :   None of note

USUAL  HAIR  STYLE :  High, messy ponytail. Dense, thick bangs that almost completely obscure her eyes

USUAL  FACE  LOOK :  Melancholy, aloof, heavy-lidded eyes and faint, pensive frowns

USUAL  CLOTHING :   Loose, comfortable blouses, leather trousers, tall heeled boots. Browns, whites, silver, violet

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR / S : Abandonment, loss of loved ones, loss of her senses

ASPIRATION / S :  To find some amount of meaning in her life outside the Wood, to find her calling

POSITIVE  TRAITS :  Resourceful, passionate, resilient

NEGATIVE  TRAITS :  Aloof, anxious, self-destructive

MBTI :  ISFP-T (Adventurer)

ZODIAC :  Menphina (Aquarius in real world)

TEMPERAMENT :  Melancholic

SOUL  TYPE / S :   Artisan (I have no idea what this means??? I googled it and took a buzzfeed quiz for her lol)

ANIMALS :   Rabbit

VICE HABIT / S :   Pining, infatuation, brooding, oversleeping, stress eating

FAITH :  Belief, sure--faith, not really

GHOSTS ? :  Why not?

AFTERLIFE ? :  Why not?

REINCARNATION ? :  Why not? But probably more likely than afterlife.

ALIENS ? :   Probably

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT : Zero concept of politics outside the wood and she intends to keep it that way, being a selfish bitch

EDUCATION  LEVEL :  Average education level of the average rava viera

FAMILY.

FATHER :   lmao

MOTHERS :  Dead to her, all four of them 

SIBLINGS :   One older sister (that she knows of)--their relationship was not great

EXTENDED  FAMILY :  Countless cousins and half-sisters, none of which she knows anything about

NAME MEANING / S :  Lofn, from the village Yascaret

HISTORICAL  CONNECTION ? : It matters not

FAVORITES.

BOOK :  She’s the type of freak who reads instruction manuals and spellbooks for fun, so probably one of those

DEITY :  She tries not to think about them

HOLIDAY :  Moonfire Faire (does that count as a holiday?)

MONTH :  The warm ones

SEASON :  Summer

PLACE :  Her bedroom, or the Azim Steppe

WEATHER :  Thunderstorms, though she is growing more fond of snow

SOUND / S:  Rain on the roof, thunder in the distance, the sound of wind through flowers or trees

SCENT / S :  Honeysuckle, cedarwood, leather, girlfriend ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

TASTE / S :  Honeysuckle, orchid, girlfriend ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

FEEL / S :  Soft moss, clean sheets, sheepskin, girlfriend ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

ANIMAL / S :  Cats

NUMBER :  3

COLORS :  Violet, brown

EXTRA.

TALENTS : Picking up new things (especially technical things),  singing (though she doesn’t sing anymore, ever), 

BAD  AT :  Getting her shit together and keeping her shit together

TURN  ONS :  Shitty smirks, sweet smiles, pet names, fleeting touches, romanticism

TURN  OFFS : Men

HOBBIES : Drawing, writing, gardening, tinkering

TROPES :  Lipstick Lesbian, Insecure Love Interest, Marry Them All, One True Threesome, I Have No Son!, Traumatic Superpower Awakening, Mad Whisper, Country Mouse, Affluent Ascetic, Lady and Knight, Eye Colour Change, Sky Pirate, Combat Stilettos, Dark-Skinned Blond, Statuesque Stunner, Wrench Wench, You Can't Go Home Again, The Gift (I have to stop or I will be on TV Tropes all day)

QUOTES : "Oh no”

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1 :   If you could write your character your way in their own movie,  what would it be called,  what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about?          

A1 :  It would probably just be Mulholland Drive but everyone has rabbit ears

Q2 :   What would their soundtrack/score sound like?          

A2 :  Dreamy and melanchol, like The Duke of Burgundy’s OST if it sounded less sinister

Q3 :   Why did you start writing this character?          

A3 :   Because when viera came out I knew exactly what I wanted my viera to be--a physically strong, emotionally stable badass warrior lady who doesn’t afraid of anything--so naturally she became the exact opposite of that because at all times my subconscious is trying to sabotage me 

Q4 :   What first attracted you to this character?          

A4 :   My grubby little gay hands wrapping around Final Fantasy Tactics Advance in 2003 and seeing a viera for the first time. Also, my grubby little 1999 gay brain struggling to comprehend why I thought Ultimecia was so hot

Q5 :   Describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse.

A5 :   Sometimes writing her is stressful because I channel my own past experiences with depression and anxiety a little too hard I think. Also her overarching themes I want to eventually bring out via RP storylines are so ambitious and complicated that I feel entirely too stupid to write it well so I’m always at least a little bit stressed about that

Q6 :   What do you have in common with your muse?          

A6 :   Crippling depression lmao

Q7 :   How does  your muse feel about  you?          

A7 :   She’d probably not even acknowledge my existence because I’m a human and what good is that

Q8 :   What characters does your muse have interesting interactions with ?        

A8 :   I feel like Pjel and Aja are the obvious choice so I feel a little shitty saying Pjel and Aja, but...I really love playing Lofn off both of them, I feel like they perfectly compliment different parts of her personality that I really enjoy writing (mainly her pettiness and her gayness) and I feel like Lofn also prods at both of their insecurities just by being her terrible self, and it’s fun for me to watch them squirm lol

Q9 :   What gives  you inspiration  to write  your muse ?        

A9 :    Um, premenstrual syndrome?? Lmao but for real if I’m struggling I’ll just go watch some Gentleman Jack (Lofn is literally Ann Walker, sorry) or listen to some FF8/FF9 music, or dick around in FF12 for a bit. Basically I identify a handful of loose inspirational touchstones for a character and fuck around with all of them until inspiration strikes

Q10 :  How long did this take you to complete ?          

A10 :  About a week, off and on...

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

So I can't help asking... book recs?

Oh god. Listen, I love this ask. So much. This will get long, because I’m a nerd, but here are some of my favs. I included links on Amazon so people can read the descriptions, but please try to buy local when you can!

Feel free to come to my inbox anytime with recommendations or book chatter!

The Song of AchillesBy Madeline Miller

My current obsession. Search the #patrochilles or #tsoa on my blog. I’m a sucker for Greek mythology and this story broke me - it stayed with me for weeks. I keep re-reading the ending and legitimately sobbing. The language is poetic, the metaphors are brilliant, and the love story between Achilles and Patroclus is breathtaking. 150/10 would recommend.

A Tree Grows in BrooklynBy Betty Smith

I first read this when I was 11-years-old – in fact, the librarian eventually gave me her copy, because I checked it out so often. Since then, I’ve read it at least once a year (this means more than 20 years) and I have a tattoo with my favourite quote. It’s not a story about anything specific, but rather a look at what it means to be human, told through the eyes of a young girl named Francie Nolan, growing up poor in a 1900s Brooklyn tenement. 

The HelpBy Kathryn Stockett

Abileen Clark is one of my absolute favourite characters. She’s an incredible human being and her courage in the face of the racism and personal tragedy she endures is astounding. She’s the wheel that sets the entire story in motion, and I find her to be so inspiring.

1984By George Orwell

It’s terrifying. Especially considering how realistic it feels in the world today.

The Book ThiefBy Markus Zusak

The narrator of this story is Death – how ingenious is that? Liesel’s story is beautiful and filled with suspense and her relationship with Rudy is one of the most heartbreaking things I’ve read. 

All the light we cannot seeBy Anthony Doerr

Another WW2 story, I can’t get enough. It compares the experience of two people on opposite sides of the war – one tragically as part of the Hitler Youth, the other who is a surprising participant in the Resistance. The path that leads them toward each other is complicated.

The Versions of UsBy Laura Barnett

Told through different story arcs, it’s a story full of ‘what ifs’. It explores how different your life story could be based on the smallest changes in the beginning. Again, I cried so much. On a boat. In front of strangers.

My life in FranceBy Julia Child

This was a random book I picked up at the library and to this day, it’s a go-to when I need something comforting. Julia Child led an incredible life – after WW2 she went to Paris where she became a chef, wrote a cookbook with her friends, met so many famous people, and travelled the world with the love of her life. I wish I could be her.

The HistorianBy Elizabeth Kostova

I’m an avid reader of fictional history and this book delivers. It follows a young woman searching for her missing father, who has a mysterious connection to Vlad the Impaler. They travel through four of my favourite cities – Amsterdam, London, Budapest, and Istanbul – which would be enticing enough, but the vivid imagery and the complex mystery bring it to another level.

The FountainheadBy Ayn Rand

I know Rand is a polarizing author and I understand why, but regardless – I love this book. I was at university the first time I read it, and the raw emotion in Howard Roark’s struggle and his relationship with Dominique Francon was unlike anything I had read. 

The Thorn BirdsBy Colleen McCullough

This is one of those epic novels that sticks with you. The rugged harshness of life on an Australian sheep farm, the bitterness of family obligation, and the illicit love affair between a young woman and a Priest, this story literally has it all. 

OutlanderBy Diana Gabaldon

Sassenach. Hands down, this is one of the greatest love stories I’ve encountered. There’s no place in the world I love more than Scotland and Claire and Jamie have the kind of love we all want to find.

East of EdenBy John Steinbeck

This story is sort of brutal. It was surprising in the way it made me connect with – and root for – certain characters that I did not expect. 

The Fault in our StarsBy John Green

At this point, I’m sure everyone’s either seen the movie or read the book and John Green is a national treasure, but I have to say – I remember finishing this book in the middle of the night, thinking ‘wow that was really good,’ going to the kitchen for a glass of water, and then collapsing into a pile of tears. I had to wake my husband up and wail about Augustus Waters and Hazel Grace Lancaster and to this day, he still makes fun of me. If you haven’t read this book, what even are you doing with your life.

A Wrinkle in TimeBy Madeleine L’Engle

I’ve had a copy of this my entire life. I love the beginning of this story – it was a dark and stormy night – and I adore the awkward elegance of Meg Murray. 

The NightingaleBy Kristin Hannah

More tears. The relationship between two sisters during WW2, one who finds a place for herself in the Resistance and the other who quietly tries to survive, is tragic and tense and a wonderful demonstration of what people do to stay alive.

Anne of Green GablesBy Lucy Maud Montgomery

Anne Shirley is one of my favourite characters in all literature. She is spunky and sassy and so full of life – she inspires me to live more fully, I’m grateful I found her growing up.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #154

“the wind is screaming, it’s screaming your name; it sounds like fear.”

What is your opinion on sex without emotional commitment?  nononononoNONONONO. Last time you puked from drinking?  Never. What books, if any, have made you cry?  Johnny Got His Gun, Old Yeller, The Outsiders (I think; I know the movie did), The Notebook, uhhh others, I'm sure. Does it get annoying when somebody says they’ll call you, but doesn’t?  It depends on the person, but honestly, almost never.  I hate talking on the phone. What is your favorite simple ice-cream flavor?  Usually vanilla, but sometimes I'm all about chocolate, especially if I can't put chocolate syrup on it. When was the last time you slept on the floor?  Jeez, probably when me and Jason did at my house.  I've slept on an inflatable mattress since, but I'm guessing you mean literally on the floor with blankets and such. If you could eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?  I dunno.  I doubt it really, but don't potatoes have all the nutrients you actually need to survive?  If so, then probably that, but otherwise, uh.  I dunno, I'd get tired of things or die 'cuz I'm not getting what I need. I could say shakes, but I consider those drinks. Have you ever given someone oral sex?  Yeah, fucking hated it.  I'm bi, yes, but visually, penises are disgusting to me.  I don't want it in my mouth.  I only ever really did it to make him happy.  I'm open to trying it with a girl, but who knows if I'd like it. What's your favorite lyric from the last song you listened to?  "Hey, hey, NRA, how many kids did you kill today?" ("Shelter In Place" by Otep) Are you friends with someone that has a baby?  My best friend does. How many different towns/cities have you lived in?  Three. Have you ever had a kinky dream about a celebrity?  No. How many pets do you have? Would you like any more?  Six, and I kinda want another snake to breed with Venus when she's big enough.  I want to keep at least one of the babies to help with Sara's snake breeding passion. Is there a song you can’t stop listening to atm?  Oh yeesh, yeah.  I've fallen in love with Powerwolf recently and thus play a number of their songs repeatedly. How many bedrooms does your home have?  Two. How many times do you use a bath towel before washing it?  Once.  Annoys the hell out of Mom but like, I feel like there may be leftover germs I'm getting off + maybe dead skin 'cuz my skin in dry as fuck??? What time do you usually eat dinner?  This can vary from 6:00 to like almost 9:00.  I can't cook and Mom works late, so.  I'll make my own microwavable things if I can't wait for her to make something. Do you know any narcissists?  Jason????? Dillon????? dat u???????? Have you ever been falsely accused of something serious?  I don't believe so? In which were you happiest: elementary, middle, or high school?  Elementary. What was your favorite thing to do as a little kid?  Video games. You can bring back one dead pet to life. Which one?  Cali, for Mom.  She misses her so much. Rock, paper, or scissors?  I think I usually do scissors. Who was the last person to ask you out? Girt. What are your favorite pajamas you have? My purple, black, and white Jack Skellington ones ahhh What’s your least favorite ice-cream flavor?  Strawberry is disgusting. Do you prefer it when it gets darker earlier?  NOOOOO.  This is totally inverted from how it used to be, but I'm more likely to feel down when it's dark. Are there a lot of cookbooks in your house, or just a few? Or maybe none at all?  Mom has tons she never uses. Who are your godparents?  I don't think I have any. Can you touch​ your nose with your tongue?​​  No. What brand is your toothpaste?  Crest. Are you currently broken out?  No. What was the last hotel you stayed at? I dunno. Do you have a favorite NASCAR driver?  No. Eyeliner. Yes or no?  If I wear makeup, that's the bare minimum. What’s the hardest decision you’ve ever had to make?  Let Jason go or continue to let what we had ruin my life. Where is the last beach you went to?  Myrtle Beach, NC. Have you ever been rock climbing?  Nah, not interested. Have you ever played Gamecube?  No. What has been the biggest event for you to overcome?  Recovery.  It changed me for the better so much. Do you have a favorite pet?  No one can beat Teddy.  I doubt any pet ever will. When someone drops something do you immediately go and pick it up for them?  If I’m close, unless they're already reaching for it, yes. Could you call your best friend right now and tell them your biggest secret, and trust them to keep it?  HAHAHAHA NO tbh.  I love her, but she tells people everything. Have you ever played Wii Fit?  Yup.  Everyday one summer, lost 40 pounds, got in great shape. Have you ever touched a caterpillar?  Yeah, loved picking up the ordinary ones as a kid. Is there a YouTube channel whose videos you always watch?  I will watch literally any video Mark makes. How often do you feel lonely?  This is like.  Almost a daily struggle. Do you struggle with depression?  I'm diagnosed with it, but it's well-controlled now! While in a relationship, do you ever think about its possible end?  I worry about it BADLY.  Even in my current one where I feel completely secure, I have some spans of "what if" anxiety. What is the worst treatment you’ve had to put up with from someone else?  Ummmm.  I dunno. What’s the longest you’ve gone without eating?  24 hours, probs. Do you like watching music videos?  No.  I just care about the music. Which, if any, drug have you ever abused?  None. Do you know your mail (wo)man?  No. Honestly, are you often high-maintenance/hard to please?  No. Are there any flags flying outside at your home?  No. Will you vote in the next presidential election?  If the remaining candidates don't fucking suck, yes. Tell me about someone that you know dislikes you. What do you think is about you they don’t like?  The one person I know doesn't is my best friend's mom, but I can't tell you exactly why.  There's no telling what Colleen told her after our fight, but.  Colleen has told me her mom thinks I could "hurt" her son somehow.  I was fucking livid.  I adore that boy and would do anything to protect him.  Oh yeah, know she mentioned I was a bad influence, too.  But hey, the hate is mutual, I've never been able to stand her. Tell me about something you’re afraid of. Why does it frighten you?  Getting heartbroken again.  Last time tore me the fuck apart, I seriously don't know if I could do it again.  Worst pain I have ever experienced. Is there someone you could hang out with all the time, without ever getting bored of them?  Sara <3 Have you ever liked someone else when you already had a boyfriend/girlfriend? What happened?  Yup, first high school crush Sebastian.  And nothing really happened; he was taken (though I'm pretty sure he had at least mild feelings for me too), though it was at a complicated point.  Then I met Jason. What mountain ranges have you seen?  The Appalachians. Where would you most like to go in your state, etc that you haven’t been?  THERE'S AN ABANDONED WIZARD OF OZ-THEMED PARK IN THE WEST AND I WANNA VISIT. Have you ever seen or touched an iceberg?  No. Where was the most remote location you’ve ever been to? I dunno. What is your most unhealthy habit? Not exercising? Has your house ever been damaged in a storm? A tree fell on our old house during a hurricane.  It didn't cause severe damage or anything, though. What’s the least amount you’ve weighed since reaching your full height? ~118.  Hilarious. Do you think it’s cruel to keep an animal in a cage while you’re away?  Depends on the size of the cage and how long they're staying in there. Are you scared of reptiles?  Not at all. Does death scare you?  Not that much. Do you use a comb or brush?  Comb now that my hair's short. When you were younger, did you ever do that exclamation point that looked like an upside down triangle and had a really big dot?  No. What kind of relationship do you have with the last person you kissed?  She's my girlfriend. Are there things in your life that you’ll never be able to get over?  If I could get over my breakup, I can get over anything. Have you ever turned to smoking or drinking to solve a problem?  New Years of 2017 I actually did try to get drunk for that purpose. Would you mind dating someone significantly shorter than you?  No. What’s on your bedside table? Yeesh, a lot.  A fan, a basket with all my meds in it, sketchbook, notebook, my folder full of things from Holly Hill as well as my therapy homework folder.  There's other miscellaneous stuff too. How much money would it take to get you to give up the Internet for one year?  This is pathetic, but probably like... no amount.  My life sadly revolves around it, just about. What are some things on your holiday wishlist?  Always tattoo money lmao.  But I'd really love a drawing tablet, but a decent quality one.  Can't have both. Who accompanied you to your first concert?  Jason, Mom, and Nicole. What’s the temperature outside?  Phone says 79.  Gonna get to 90, though. Have you ever been in detention?  Yes, too many tardies getting to school. Do you wear black to look skinnier?  Not for that reason, but it's a plus lol. Do you have scars on your wrists?  You can barely see them, but they're there. How about anywhere else?  Yeah, quite a few. Do you post things on Facebook that are personal?  No. Has the last person you kissed ever taken their shirt off in front of you?  Just to change it. Would you ever get in the passenger seat of a car with someone who’s been drinking?  Fuck that. What is a topic you definitely don’t want to talk about with anyone?  How I'm 99% sure I lost my virginity. What is the craziest hairstyle and color you’ve had?  Style, probably what I had before this where I had short hair on most of my left side and it faded to long.  Color, purple. What was your first gaming console?  Original PlayStation. Which fictional villain is your favorite?  Um obviously Darkiplier???????? What’s the last thing you’ve made with your hands?  Hm.  Dunno. Which hair color would you never want to have?  Yellow. Who’s the last person you talked to about sex?  Sara. What is the wallpaper on your phone?  My lock screen is a heavy reminder that I am still straight as fuck for Mark, home screen is my favorite pic of me and Sara. What was the last thing you wrote down?  Stuff at the tattoo/piercing parlor to get my tongue done. What is your least favorite color?  Puke green or olive. What’s the most boring sport to watch?  Golf.  Sara, don't tell your dad I said that.

[artyblogs]

Launch Date ch 11 Carry That Weight

Star Wars the Clone Wars, Ahsoka/Riyo

Launch Date summary: In which Ahsoka mistakes Riyo for an office secretary, Riyo is sometimes too gay to function, and R7-A7 is determined to be a trollish kark.

First Chapter : Previous Chapter :

Chapter Summary: The Force cracks wide open, as easily as a piñata, as devastating as a skull.

It takes Magnus and Riyo one hour by pickup speeder to reach the outskirts of civilization, and another half hour to drive past all the permafrost farmland that rings around that. The land that stretches out afterwards is thick with forest.

During a Snow Walk, people go out in the wilderness and survive of a few days. They put themselves at the mercy of the Blizzard God. Snow Walks can last between two days to one whole standard year, and male Pantorans earn the right to their first tattoos after the completion of their first Snow Walk.

Hardcore Pantorans do Snow Walks out in the tundra, but these are the same people who do them while equipped with only a hand-blaster, a knife, and the clothes on their back. People attempting these kinds of Snow Walks for the first time are usually brought into hospitals; trapped in pseudo-hibernations. Some don’t recover.

There’s no way Magnus is taking Riyo on a Snow Walk that intense. He’s too old, and as capable as Riyo is, she doesn’t know how to start a fire from scratch. So they’re here in the forest, and in the back of the speeder are two survival kits, one for Magnus, and one for Riyo.

The two Pantorans are dressed in tough pants, boots, and sleeveless shirts, putting their tattoos on display. Like how a few Pantorans can read tattoos like text, so can the Gods. It’s polite to introduce yourself whenever you go into someone else’s house, so Snow Walkers keep their tattoos uncovered so that the Blizzard God knows exactly who they are. Magnus, who has full chest and back tattoos that tell about his decorated military service, sheds his shirt as soon as they exit the speeder.

Riyo hefts her pack over her shoulders. The woods are deep and solemn. Pristine snow dusts the ground and the trees like powdered sugar. Magnus locks the speeder, then leads the way into the forest. They walk in silence for a few minutes, navigating between tall, frozen boulders, over fallen trees, and around other obstacles.

“Where are we?” Riyo asks.

“You don’t know?”

“No.”

“That’ll do.” Magnus stops in the middle of a clearing and takes off his pack. He kneels with it on the ground, opens it up, and takes out a thermos, and two sets of tracking devices. Magnus unscrews the lid off the thermos, letting out a cloud of steam. He drinks from it then hands it to Riyo. She swirls the contents and smells herbs and something musty.

“What kind of tea is this?” she asks.

“Frost Shield,” Magnus says. She freezes.

“How much do I drink?”

“Not all of it. Not just a sip either. As much as you want.”

Riyo lifts the thermos to her lips and takes a couple gulps of tea. It’s bitter and earthy and she grimaces as she lowers the thermos and screws the cap back on.

“Now what?”

Magnus clips one tracker to his belt and gives the output to Riyo, then he clips the other tracker to the collar of her shirt.

“Just in case,” he says. “Remember to be honest.” He frowns as he looks over Riyo’s shoulder.

“What is it?” She asks.

“I saw something move,” Magnus says. Riyo turns to look, but sees nothing.

“It’s the tea,” Riyo says, but Magnus picks up his pack and steps around her to investigate.

“Of course it’s the tea, but it don’t mean whatever you see isn’t important. If I don’t come back in five minutes, then it’s alright. You have my tracker and you have a comlink.”

“You’re leaving me here?”

“I’ll be….” Magnus trails off and looks into the forest again. “I’ll be back for you.” And with that, he slips between the trees and disappears.

For one moment, Riyo feels cheated. She looks at the thermos in her hand and wonders why she isn’t feeling or seeing anything. At least she isn’t nauseous.

The world tilts and rushes up to meet her. She bursts through the surface of the ground the same way one would fall into a swimming pool and tumbles around, weightless, in the dark. It feels like she’s spinning around in her own skull, like she’s been wearing her body all of her life, but can’t really escape it, and so she sinks deeper into the infinite recesses of her mind instead.

The darkness doesn’t last. Vague flickers of sensation and emotion fire around her in a confusing mix of sound and color. She doesn’t know how she’s seeing or hearing anything without any eyes or ears, but supposes that she’ll miss the point if she dwells too much on technicalities.

The heart monitor flatlines. A younger and smaller Riyo watches the straight line on the monitor and is consumed by how unfair this all this. What will she do now?

An older Riyo holds her hands out to a pretty, red Twi’lek girl, only to have her shy away from her touch.

“Cerise, please.” Riyo says, even though there’s nothing she can do to keep this from happening.

“You keep publishing those damning articles of yours and they’ll come for you,” the Twi’lek says. “You know it. I know it, and I can’t be a part of it anymore. I’m sorry, Riyo.”

But she’s more scared than she’s sorry. Riyo turns away.

“I’d die for our people.” Cho wheezes; that Talz spear must have went right through his lung. “I’d…die….”

Riyo’s thrown for a loop, and when she slows to a stop, she’s lying on a cold, metal table.

Don’t look.

Riyo shuts her eyes and presses back into the table as the flat of a blade taps against the underside of her chin, keeping her from turning away. She gets the sudden urge to talk and quickly.

“I couldn’t stop Chairman Cho from dying,” she says. “I’m not a warrior; my hands were not made for fighting. My weapons are words, and he refused to listen to me.”

The presence in front of her shifts and the blade disappears from her throat. A light shines into her face and she opens her eyes. Someone looms over her, their face hidden in shadow.

“Is she yours to give?” they ask.

Before Riyo can answer, she falls up off the table, out of the room, back into her mind and then up to the tangible world. The surface of the ground solidifies under her, leaving her lying there in the clearing in the forest, breathless.

Above her, Magnus swims into focus and he sits back, relieved. “There you are.”

“Magnus? This is real now?”

“So you saw things?”

“I think He hates me,” Riyo says.

“If He hated you, you would’ve overdosed on that tea,” Magnus says. He offers Riyo a hand and pulls her to her feet. “What did you see?”

“A parade of bad memories. Just one right after the other.”

“That’s how He knows how tough someone is.”

“And I saw…something else. I can’t explain it.”

“He gave you a warning then,” Magnus says. “He must have thought you could handle it.”

BEEP.

Magnus’s comlink lights up and he unclips it from his belt.

“It’s Ahsoka’s droid,” he says as he takes the call.

The forest is filled with R7’s panicked screaming.

Riyo stands at the foot of Ahsoka’s hospital bed, watching. Ahsoka is still unconscious, a ventilator mask pulled over her face. A thin tube snakes in under the collar of her hospital scrubs and roots in her chest. This tube drips fresh Bacta directly into her wound through the sanitized Bata patch. Riyo covers her mouth with a trembling hand and tries to keep despair from welling up in her throat.

“Senator Chuchi?” The doctor, a muscular Pantoran with tattoos covering even their fingers and palms, steps into the room with a data pad.

“Uh.” Riyo quickly wipes her eyes on the heel of her hand. “Yes?”

“I’m Dr. Jago. Ahsoka Tano was assigned to my care.” The doctor steps closer, their voice careful and concerned.

“Hello, Doctor. How…how is she?”

“It looks a lot worse than it is. Usually, when patients come in with sternal injuries, they also come in with internal injuries as well. That was not the case with your friend. A large part of her sternum was missing, so we cloned a replacement bone and fit it in with the remains of the original, like a jigsaw puzzle. Then we reattached all the muscles and tendons. The Bacta should knit everything together overnight and once that’s done, she should be able to breathe on her own, so we’ll take her off of the ventilation machine.”

Riyo says nothing.

“Is she Force-sensitive?” Dr. Jago asks.

“Yes, does that help?”

“I’ve treated Force-sensitives before and in my experience, they’re very hardy. Her recuperation period will be incredibly short compared to non-sensitives.”

“When will she wake up?”

“The anesthesia we used during surgery will wear off soon, so she should wake up either later today or tomorrow. If she’s feeling a lot of pain, then let a nurse know and we’ll get her on morphine.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Riyo says. Dr. Jago puts a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Senator. She’s a tough, young woman and she’ll come around.” Dr. Jago turns and leaves the room, leaving Riyo alone with Ahsoka.

Riyo pulls the visitor’s chair closer to the bed, then sits down. The only sounds in the room are the small beeps of the heart monitor and the steady pumps of the breathing machine. Riyo covers her eyes with a hand and sighs.

The door whooshes open.

“Magnus,” Riyo says, “please, not now.”

“Is that your bodyguard’s name?”

Riyo almost falls out of the chair at the sound of Asajj Ventress’s voice. Asajj oozes danger and grace, with a pointed jawline that’s liable to cut. She sinks into another visitor’s chair that’s tucked into the corner of the room.

“Stop cringing, Senator, I’m not here to hurt you,” Asajj says as she crosses her long legs.

“How can I believe that? You and Ahsoka have a complicated past.”

“I saved Ahsoka’s life. If she dies, I don’t get paid.”

“I forgot; you’re a bounty hunter now. So you went with Ahsoka to Malachor?”

“Yes. The credits made it worth my while.”

“How could you let this happen?”

Asajj sneers. “Excuse you? This was not my fault.”

Riyo opens her mouth to say something, but Asajj cuts her off. “Hush! I will not be lectured to. I understand that I’m an easy target for you to pile your frustrations on, but it does not mean I will tolerate such treatment.”

Riyo almost spits, but turns away and takes a calming breath.

“So Ahsoka almost got a boob sliced off,” Asajj says. “It happens to the best of us. What matters is that she’s here, isn’t she? What matters is that she’s alive.”

“But it’s all about the credits to you, isn’t it? Do you even care what happens to her?”

Asajj and Riyo stare at each other with narrowed eyes for a moment.

“No,” Asajj finally says. Riyo tilts her head.

“Ventress, you…?”

“I said ‘no!’” Asajj says. She shifts in her seat. “I couldn’t care less!”

The both of them fall into a stunned silence. Asajj’s ice blue eyes snap back up to Riyo’s.

“Not a word,” she says. Riyo jerks her head in a way that could be taken for a nod.

“These are hers.” Asajj unclips Ahsoka’s lightsabers from her belt and levitates them across the room to Riyo. They drop into Riyo’s hands and she gasps in surprise.

“What is it?” Asajj asks.

Riyo hefts the lightsabers. “They’re heavy.”

Asajj rolls her eyes at Riyo’s pitiful upper body strength. “All lightsabers are heavy. My last lightsaber was three pounds at least, and that one was on the smaller end of the scale.”

“But she handles them like they weigh nothing.” Riyo pulls open a bedside table drawer to find Ahsoka’s clothes and belongings. She places the lightsabers over Ahsoka’s dress, then rummages a little more. When she doesn’t find what she’s looking for, she turns back to Asajj.

“Do you have the Sith holocron?”

“I do.” Asajj reaches into her tabard and takes it out. “Ahsoka mentioned needing knowledge of this Darth Plagueis ‘for a friend.’ I don’t suppose you know who this friend of hers is?”

“No,” Riyo says, still staring at the holocron. There’s something unnerving about it.

“Oh, so you do know,” Asajj says.

Riyo glares. “Don’t read my mind.”

“So if Ahsoka’s still not awake by the time her friend calls, then you can tell them what I found,” Asajj says, totally ignoring Riyo’s request. She holds the holocron in both hands and shifts in her chair, getting comfortable. “I suggest you be quiet while I do this.”

Riyo nods and lowers her hand over Ahsoka’s. Satisfied, Asajj closes her eyes and begins to meditate. A chill goes up Riyo’s spine, and she ducks closer to Ahsoka. She gets the immediate impression that although she doesn’t know what’s happening, she must not look away, not even for a second. If she does, then Asajj, and the Sith holocron that levitates in her hands, will somehow gut her and Ahsoka both.

The corners of the holocron turn and split from the main part, and the light trapped inside escapes and throws angry red light all over the hospital room. Asajj doesn’t seem to notice and stays silent and still.

After a few minutes, Asajj shudders and closes the holocron. The red light vanishes, and Riyo straightens up. Asajj places the holocron on the small table at the foot of Ahsoka’s bed, her nose wrinkled in disgust.

“I need a damn drink after that. Do you want to know what I’ve found?”

“Yes,” Riyo says.

Asajj tells her, then sweeps out of the room to get her drink. Riyo grips Ahsoka’s hand a little tighter and eyes the Sith Holocron with unmitigated fear.

BEEP.

That’s Ahsoka’s comlink. Riyo opens the drawer and searches for the correct gauntlet, then takes the call. Anakin Skywalker’s bust appears in the holocomlink.

“Anakin,” Riyo says.

“Riyo,” Anakin says. There are shadows under his eyes and sparse stubble along his upper lip and chin. “I sensed something in the Force from Ahsoka. Is she alright?”

“She’s….” Suddenly feeling rather spiteful, Riyo moves the comlink closer to Ahsoka, so that it’ll pick up her image. Anakin gasps and Riyo moves the comlink back to herself.

“I know you were desperate. I know there was no other way for you to get your information. But this is the last time you send her to that place.”

“I didn’t mean….”

“You sent her alone! She had to get help from Asajj Ventress.”

“She what?”

“Ventress said it wasn’t her fault, and you know what? She might be right. It should have been you with her; you two always protect each other. You could have done it. You could have found a way.”

“I can’t just leave Padmé,” Anakin says. “Not now. She needs me too.”

Padmé, of course. How could Riyo forget? All the fight goes out of her, and her shoulders sag.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Riyo whispers. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

Anakin’s eyes soften. “No, you’re fine. I kind of deserve that. I put Ahsoka in this situation. I’m sorry too.”

“Ahsoka’s actually already finished with surgery. The doctor said she’d be alright.”

“That’s good. I mean, good that she’ll be fine.”

“I know,” Riyo says. “Do you want to know about Darth Plagueis?”

“Ventress opened the Holocron?”

“Yes. She’s not here right now, but she told me what she found.” Riyo takes a breath to steel herself. “There is a Sith healing technique that revolves around pain and hatred. It’s not sustainable, and according to Ventress, it’s not as potent as the Jedi technique, because the Dark Side excels at destruction, not creation.”

“Oh.” Anakin looks down, disappointed.

“Anakin, please. I’m…there’s more.”

“What is it?”

“The only example Ventress could find of a Sith bringing a person back to life was Darth Sion. His agony was so great that he used it to fuel his focus of the Dark Side and used it to keep his dead body together so that he could possess it. He possessed his own corpse.”

Anakin stares.

“Anakin?”

“Sorry, Riyo. I’m processing all this.”

“I must ask: are you planning on pursuing this line of knowledge?”

“No! No.” Anakin shudders. “No. That’s not the kind of power I want.”

“Whoever told you about Darth Plagueis must have lied to you.”

“Yeah.” Anakin pinches the bridge of his nose. “I realize that.”

“What are you going to do? Sorry, you don’t have to answer that, that’s none of my business.”

“No, I made it your business when I sent your girlfriend to Malachor. I’m going to warn the Jedi Council about the Sith Lord, and the Council can take it from there.”

Riyo pauses as her mind immediately comes up with five different questions. She decides to go with the least probing one. “You’re not going to do more?”

“Padmé and I are in hiding right now. From the Chancellor, from the Jedi Order, from everyone. It’s actually kind of nice. It’s like we’re on vacation, but not really.”

“That explains your face,” Riyo says.

“You noticed?” Anakin rubs his pitiful facial hair. “Yeah, it’ll help people from recognizing me. Nice, huh?”

“Y-yeah,” Riyo lies. “How’s Padmé?”

Anakin beams. “She’s doing great! A little restless though. She’s not used to not doing any work.”

The door slides open and Asajj walks in carrying a bottle of liquor.

“Skywalker?”

“Ventress.”

“If there’s a story behind all this, I don’t want to know.” Asajj settles back in her chair. “You look like poodoo.”

She’s not wrong. Soon-to-be fathers often look like poodoo and Anakin isn’t an exception, with the shadows under his eyes and his rumpled hair. Amazingly, though, he smiles.

“Say what you like, Ventress. Ahsoka’s alive, Padmé’s alive. What more can I want?”

Asajj rolls her eyes as she takes another swig. “Spare me your sentimentality.”

“I’ll call tomorrow, Riyo.”

“Alright.”

Anakin hangs up. Riyo lowers the gauntlet and turns to Asajj, who offers her the bottle.

“You look like you need it too.”

Riyo takes the bottle. “This does not make us friends.”

Asajj has the gall to laugh in her face. She kicks her boots up onto the table and picks up the remote for the holoscreen bolted to the corner of the hospital room. “Whatever you say, Senator.”

She takes the screen off mute and changes the channel.

Anakin Skywalker’s picture is all over the HNN. Underneath is the caption: Jedi General Missing.

“Oh Gods, he is in hiding,” Riyo says. Anakin’s picture is minimized to the corner, revealing the news anchor.

“Have any information about his whereabouts, please contact the Jedi Order at this comlink number. Joining me now is our panel of experts, thank you for being here tonight. I have to ask: Republic forces are spread thin across the galaxy, is it wise to divert manpower from the war effort in order to look for one Jedi?”

“One man? No. But we’re talking about Anakin Skywalker, an incredibly capable Jedi Knight.”

“Boring,” Asajj says. She changes the channel.

CLICK.

"Her whereabouts are unaccounted for…."

CLICK.

"And a high of twenty-three degrees!"

CLICK.

Dyslogia Twang, a gossip reporter, shows up onscreen.  

“Dark day for everyone everywhere,” he says. “I mean, who doesn’t have the hots for Anakin Skywalker? And now he’s missing? Who will fill our lives with their brooding good looks now?”

“No one,” one of his co-reporters says. The both of them lounge on couches with two other people.

“No one! There’s a void now. All we’re left with is his picture.”

“Someone’s got to know where he is,” another person says. “I was reading the details of the investigation and apparently, there were no signs of foul play. No lightsaber marks, no blaster marks, it was like he vanished. So wherever he is, he must be okay.”

“You think he went AWOL?”

“No. Well, we can’t say anything for certain yet, but the authorities are also looking for Ahsoka Tano because they wanna question her about what she might know.”

“Wait, why Ahsoka Tano?”

“Because she was his padawan. Like his…pseudo-daughter, little sister?”

“I don’t think it works like that.”

“Well I don’t know, I’m not a Jedi. But she does know him well, and that’s why they’re looking for her.”

“So where is she?”

“She’s missing too.”

“Oh my God! They can’t find her? What is up with the Jedi Order? They can’t keep track of a few Force-sensitives?”

“Like padawan, like master. Do we have a picture of Ahsoka Tano? Can we put it up on screen?”

“Yeah, she’s really cute.”

“Can you change it?” Riyo asks.

“What’s wrong, Senator? Can’t stand gossip?” Asajj asks, but changes the channel anyway. On the holoscreen, a gritty guitar jingle plays before the camera pans through an office where all the employees are gathered at a particular open cubicle with water bottles and thermoses in their hands.

“Tips have been pouring in all over the goddamn galaxy about Anakin Skywalker,” a Tholothian woman says. “People have been claiming they’ve seen him, but they’re all Bantha poodoo. They’re just full of it. No one’s seen him.”

“Some people are saying that he’s with Padmé Amidala,” a Rodian woman says.

“The Senator?”

“Yeah. Apparently, she just took a leave of absence and no one knows where she is either.”

“So what are you saying, that they eloped together?”

“Whoa whoa,” the boss, a balding human man, waves his hands. “Tone it down, or we’ll be sued again.”

“You can’t think there isn’t anything going on,” the Rodian says. Half of the gathered employees groan. “No, come on!”

A male Nautolan shrugs. “I can see it.”

“Boo!” the boss says.

“No, I’m serious. Senator Amidala’s kind of hot.”

“Anakin’s a Jedi! They don’t do relationships.”

“He’s got eyes, right?”

“No, I’m not doing this,” the boss says. “Moving on, what else you got?”

“Um, Senator Riyo Chuchi attended a Trickster’s Ball wth Ahsoka Tano,” the Tholothian says. Riyo sits frozen in her seat, but Asajj raises an eyebrow and glances over at her.

“Wait, that’s that one Pantoran thing, right? Don’t they eat people at that ball?”

“No, that’s false,” the Nautolan says. “I’ve been to a couple of those balls. It’s fun, you guys should go sometime.”

“But it’s still depraved?”

“Oh yeah, it’s self-indulgent as hell.”

“And Senator Chuchi went to one of these things?”

“Yeah there was a poetry slam, and she did a poem there and,” here, the Tholothian pauses. “It was…it was pretty raunchy.”

“Oh Gods,” Riyo mutters, turning deep indigo.

“How raunchy? Is there footage?” the boss asks.

“No, there’s no cameras allowed in there, so no one could record anything,” the Tholothian says, “but it was intense. Like if Ahsoka didn’t give it up that night, girl…I will.”

“Turn it off,” Riyo says.

“But I want to see what happens next,” Asajj says, enjoying Riyo’s discomfort.

“Wait, wait, wait. Ahsoka Tano, isn’t she that one girl who was dating Barriss Offee?” the Rodian asks.

“The bomber?” the Tholothian asks. “There’s no proof of that.”

“Were they together?” Asajj asks.

“No!” Riyo says. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t care!” Riyo says. “We haven’t discussed exes and Ahsoka doesn’t seem to care about mine, so I don’t care about hers.”

“You should if her exes include Offee. That girl’s dangerous.” Asajj changes the channel to the weather network and mutes it. She checks the time. “I’m going to sleep on my ship, where things make sense. Goodnight, Senator.”

“Goodnight, Ventress.”

Ahsoka dreams of repairing her old Jedi starfighter. There’s a hole in the hull, and she’s fashioned a piece that just fits in it. She uses the Force to hold the piece in place, then spot welds them together. When it can’t move around anymore, she stops drawing on the Force to hold it and begins to weld the seam with overlapping spots. Ahsoka’s hands are steady, and she’s patient, and so each spot comes out identical to the last. Soon, she’s got an even seam, but she doesn’t notice, lost as she is in how therapeutic and hypnotic the repetition is. It’s almost like meditation.

Ahsoka finishes off the weld and lifts her mask to better see her handiwork. It’s beautiful, and she swipes a gloved hand over the seam to feel how smooth it is. No sooner than she does this, a holoscreen flickers on behind her, playing familiar sounds and images of the Jedi Temple.

But this time, it’s different. Padmé no longer features in them. Instead, a familiar voice calls out, “Long live the Republic!” before the vision devolves into a furious storm of blaster fire.

“Riyo.” Ahsoka jolts awake and finds herself in a hospital room. The ventilator mask is no longer on her face, and mid-morning sunlight streams into her room through the plastic blinds and spills onto her bed over her knees. Sitting in a chair at her side is Riyo, fast asleep. She looks extremely uncomfortable, and Ahsoka wonders when Riyo’s gotten used to sleeping in chairs.

Ahsoka reaches out to her, but can’t touch her while she’s lying down. She hooks her fingers into the collar of her hospital scrubs and feels the cottony texture of the Bacta patch stuck over her chest. There’s also a small plastic tube and she traces it down until she feels where it’s stuck in through the patch. Ahsoka gingerly presses on her sternum, testing it. There’s no pain, and there’s no shifting, so Ahsoka sits up and immediately regrets it. Her head spins for a moment from the blood pressure drop, and when she recovers, she lays a hand over Riyo’s.

“Huh?” Riyo blinks awake. “Ahsoka?”

“Hey.”

“Ahsoka!” Riyo leaps out of her chair and envelops Ahsoka in a tight hug. Ahsoka smiles into Riyo’s neck and pulls her into her lap in order to hug her better. She smells like pine and…something else. Ahsoka can’t put a finger on it. Riyo trembles and Ahsoka pulls away to look at her.

“Are you crying?”

“No. Yes.” Riyo wipes her eyes. “I’m just so relieved.”

“I told you I’d come back,” Ahsoka whispers and presses a quick kiss to Riyo’s lips.

“Oh kark.” Asajj rolls her eyes from her place in the doorway. Riyo’s ears turn indigo and she turns away, but Ahsoka hugs her tighter and looks at Asajj.

“You keep sneaking around like that, and of course you’re gonna walk in on things like this. Really, Asajj, people will start assuming things if you keep this up.”

“I’m not wearing a bell, if that’s what you’re suggesting,” Asajj says. “You have your trinket and you’re alive and well. I believe we’ve reached the end of our accord?”

“Oh! Yeah.” Ahsoka summons a data pad from the side table drawer and, since she refuses to let go of Riyo, holds up the data pad behind Riyo’s back so she can see it over her shoulder. She accesses her bank account and pauses, then does a few sums in her head.

“Huh.”

“Something wrong?” Asajj asks.

“No.” There’s more credits in her account than Ahsoka expected to get. A lot more. How did Anakin get his hands on this much money? Ahsoka transfers the correct amount of credits to Asajj’s bank account and exits the app.

“Done.”

Asajj checks her own data pad and her eyebrows go up in surprise. “Did you misplace a decimal? You might have given me too much.”

“No, that’s it.”

“That’s…adequate.” Asajj tucks the data pad into her tabard and nods. “It was fun, Ahsoka. Comm me again if you have any other near-death experiences that you’d like to share.”

And with that, Asajj turns on her heel and leaves.

“I can’t say I’m sorry to see her go,” Riyo says. Ahsoka smiles.

“She’s not that bad. Did she open the holocron?”

“Yes.” Riyo tells Ahsoka what she told Anakin and at the end of her explanation, she grimaces. “I used to be envious of you. Of Force-sensitives, I mean.”

“Really?”

“Yes. All of you can do such wonderful things and here I am and I can’t do any of that. But now that I know about the Dark Side, I think I’m over it.”

“I think you’re great,” Ahsoka says. “Even without Force powers.”

“I’m glad I meet your lofty standards,” Riyo says.

There’s a knock on the door, and it slides open to reveal Dr. Jago and a medical droid.

“Oh!” Dr. Jago looks up from their data pad and stops in their tracks. “Should I come back later?”

Riyo swears under her breath and slides off of Ahsoka’s lap. “Good morning, Dr. Jago.”

“I’d wish you good morning too, but it might be redundant at this point. Hello, Miss Tano, I’m Dr. Jago.” Dr. Jago has the medical droid scan Ahsoka and skims the readout. “Do you feel any pain?”

“No, but I felt lightheaded when I sat up.”

“That would be the low blood sugar; you haven’t had anything to eat in more than twenty-four hours. And also maybe the blood loss. Your vitals are good, Miss Tano, and your sternum is healed.” Dr. Jago scrolls down on the date pad. “Your body isn’t showing signs of rejection so far, but if there’s any swelling, or pain, come back and see me again.”

“Does that mean I can go?” Ahsoka asks.

“Yes, the danger has passed. However, your skin still has to form over the wound. You’ll have to wear Bacta patches over it until the skin fully closes up.” Dr. Jago nudges the medical droid forward and it drops a bag full of several thin, single-use Bacta patches into Ahsoka’s hands.

“Change it for a new one every twenty-four standard hours. As for the blood loss, drink lots of fluids. Oh, and try to get some rest. Your body may be worn out from performing all of its miracles.”

“I will. Thanks, Doctor.”

“It’s no trouble.” Dr. Jago wishes them the best and takes their leave, bringing the medical droid with them. Riyo puts a duffle bag at the foot of the bed and unzips it.

“Magnus brought you a change of clothes. I didn’t think you’d like to wear your dress out. It’s all dusty. And there’s a tear in it. Do you need help?”

“I got it.” Ahsoka unfolds her legs over the side of her bed and stands up. Riyo hands the clothes over and turns around to give Ahsoka some privacy.

“What happened on Malachor? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Ahsoka pulls a sweater over her head and pulls her lekku out of the collar. “There was a Sith Lord there. Darth Maul. He attacked us.”

“So he was the one who hurt you?”

“Yeah. But that’s okay. I might have hurled him into space.”

“What?” Riyo starts to turn around, but catches herself. “O-okay.”

“Yeah.” Ahsoka finishes dressing herself. “Done. You can look. Can we go home now?”

Riyo’s breath catches in her throat. ‘Home.’ That’s what Ahsoka said. Not ‘can we go back to your apartment?’ She smiles so hard it hurts her face.

“Riyo?”

“Yeah.” Riyo takes Ahsoka’s hand. “Let’s go.”

Magnus and R7 pick them up from the hospital and drive them back to Riyo’s apartment. In the backseat, Ahsoka lays her head on Riyo’s shoulder and nurses a bottle of water. The duffle bag, now filled with her belongings, lies on the floor of the cabin at her feet.

“You alright?” Riyo whispers.

“I’m tired, that’s all. I’ll take a nap later. What did you do while I was gone?”

“I visited my mother. She’s buried at the local temple.”

“Oh.”

“And I went on a Snow Walk with Magnus.”

“What’s a Snow Walk?”

Together, Riyo and Magnus explain Snow Walks to Ahsoka. Halfway through, however, traffic slows to a stop as hundreds of people flood the streets. They stand on parked speeders and cheer and shout and hug each other. A few people fire blasters into the air.

“Trickster’s Tongue,” Magnus swears. “What’s going on?”

A Wookie pounds on the window, almost breaking it, and howls in Magnus's face before walking off, howling some more.

“‘The war is over?’” Ahsoka repeats. “How?”

Magnus turns on the radio and tunes it to a talk show. It takes a couple minutes before they get the news that Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi has killed Separatist General Grievous. The war is over.

“Just like that?” Riyo asks.

“Wars are sudden like that,” Magnus says. “They can start in one second, and end just as quickly. What do you say, Riyo? Shall we have a drink to celebrate?”

“Maybe later, Magnus. Ahsoka needs rest, and I don’t want to leave her alone like this.”

“Very well. Watch out for police, R7.” Magnus flips a few switches and pulls a lever, converting the landspeeder to an airspeeder.

BEEP. It comes from the duffle bag.

“Oh that’s mine.” Ahsoka rummages through the bag and clips the hologram comlink from her gauntlet. When she presses the button, Anakin’s hologram appears.

“Snips! It’s good to see you. Hello, Riyo.”

“Hello, Anakin.” Riyo gives a little wave and Ahsoka smiles. She puts her head back onto Riyo’s shoulder

“It’s good to see you too, Skyguy,” Ahsoka says. “What happened to your face?”

“I’m growing a beard. It’s what guys do when they go into hiding.”

Ahsoka gives a soft, sleepy smile. “You really did it. You left.”

“Yeah. Gonna see if this civilian thing is as good for me as it is for you.”

“It’s pretty dang good.”

“I can’t thank you enough for getting that information for me,” Anakin says. “Did you get the credits?”

“I did. It’s a lot more credits than I thought there’d be.”

“You need them more than I do.”

“I don’t know about that,” Riyo says. “I hear babies are expensive.”

“Well, yeah, but we’re not hurting for money,” Anakin says. “I gotta go, but I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Okay,” Ahsoka mumbles. “Bye, Skyguy.”

She ends the call and tosses the comlink back into the duffel bag. As soon as they get back to the apartment, Riyo sends Magnus off to celebrate, but R7 follows Ahsoka into the bedroom like a puppy, and settles himself in the corner. He turns off most of his functions so as to not be obstructive.

Riyo goes to the bedroom and closes the door behind her, washing everything in inky darkness. She’s not concerned, however. She knows the layout of her bedroom enough to not bump into anything. She drops the duffel bag off to the side just inside the door. Ahsoka’s already in bed, the blankets a cocoon around her, but she must be awake, because her pupils flash green when she looks at Riyo.

“Mind if I join you?” Riyo asks. Ahsoka lifts the covers in silent answer. Riyo shucks her pants and slides into bed. Ahsoka is warm and she smells like Bacta.

The both of them are asleep within minutes.

It’s cold. It’s cold. Ahsoka wakes up, shivering. Sunlight no longer filters under the curtains over the window and instead, a blizzard rages outside. Riyo’s already at the thermostat, adjusting the temperature. When she comes back to bed, she pulls Ahsoka into her arms and rearranges the covers around her.

“I’ll reprogram the thermostat in the morning so that the heater turns on at night,” Riyo whispers.

“Mm.”

Not all of the cold is coming from outside, however. There’s something else and whatever it is, it’s coming for them both. Ahsoka summons her lightsabers from the duffel bag and catches them behind Riyo’s back. Riyo immediately freezes.

“What is it?” she asks.

“I don’t know.” Ahsoka closes her eyes and makes a sweep of the apartment using the Force. Through her lightsabers, everything is clearer and more vivid. A small squad of clone troops crowd the balcony beyond the bedroom window, and stand ready at the front door.

They are not here to catch up.

“There are troopers here,” Ahsoka whispers. Riyo’s fear spikes in the Force.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” Ahsoka really doesn’t. When she tries to read them with the Force, she only gets static white noise, similar to attempts to Force Read droids.

“What are we going to do?”

Ahsoka softly groans as she rolls over, her hand over her chest. “I can’t fight them off like this. We can’t run either, they’d catch us. R7? Wake up, it’s an emergency.”

R7’s camera cycles through colors as he boots up. He clicks and gives a low whistle, then rolls to the side of the bed.

“Several clone troopers are about to trash this place. Slice their com signal.”

BRAAP BRAAP.

“Good. Have they scanned this place yet?”

R7 answers in the negative. They just arrived.

“Slice the life-form scanner. Make it seem like this apartment is empty.”

R7’s camera cycles through colors again, then beeps.

Ahsoka closes her eyes and reaches out with the Force again. When the captain receives news that the apartment is empty, he orders a retreat, and the squad disappears into the night. They don’t take the cold feeling with them, however, but since the physical threat is gone, Ahsoka releases a sigh.

“They’re gone. Good job, buddy.” Ahsoka swipes a hand over R7’s dome before he rolls back to the corner. She tucks her lightsabers under the pillow and returns to Riyo. Ahsoka winds her arms around her waist and turns her focus within her to check her Force bonds.

Anakin’s Force bond is inert, if also on edge. Ahsoka picks up the bond and is overcome with waves of panic.

ARE YOU OKAY? Anakin seems to think at her. Ahsoka sends him images of the clone troopers coming, but retreating back, leaving the apartment untouched. Anakin’s always had a keen connection with the Force, so whatever she’s picking up from It, he must be feeling it as well, only worse. Judging from the level of his paranoia, it must be very bad, and he’s only mildly relieved at the fact that Ahsoka’s alright.

Anakin sends flashes of images too. A heavily pregnant Padmé sits on the kitchen floor with him, a gallon of ice cream between them. Both of them are sobbing. But Anakin drops the bond soon after that, and Ahsoka continues her search.

The bonds Ahsoka shares with Obi-Wan and Plo are dusty and brittle from disuse, but they’re still intact enough to give Ahsoka vague impressions of danger. Ahsoka’s breath shudders in her chest when she feels Plo’s Force bond crack and fall away. It pulls a part of her with it, and she shuts her mouth around a whimper.

The cold bleeds into Ahsoka’s system from a ragged bond, one that she’s torn up before, but has been mended from the other end. Barriss. She’s out. She’s angry.  It’s joined by a faint screaming in the back of Ahsoka’s mind that she’s never heard before. She realizes that it’s the Force, and It smashes into her with the power of a super nova. Her body floods with phantom agony.

“Oh no,” Ahsoka whispers. That’s all she’s able to say before she clenches her teeth and grabs handfuls of the back of Riyo’s shirt.

“What is it?” Riyo asks. “What’s wrong?”

But Ahsoka’s already beyond words. Riyo tightens her hold.

Ahsoka’s comlink beeps from an incoming message, but neither of them move to answer it.

All Jedi return to the temple. The War is over.

Note Bene: I wondered what Anakin would look like with a beard, so I googled Hayden Christensen with a beard and it’s scraggly. It’s so bad. He tries, but he can’t do it. I found this hilarious, of course, and now you readers are also stuck with this image.

As always, I’m gonna plug in the AO3 and Fanfiction.net versions of this story. Show them some love! Please! 

[scripturientoctopus]

Alone

I can no longer remember when the humans left us. I suppose it’s wrong to say the humans left, a brave few souls remained behind to set us to our task. I simply do not count them. It would only be a week longer before they boarded their sleek shuttle and abandoned us to the waste just as the others did. I know that it is not my place to criticise the ones responsible for my life.

If only I could forget the truth.

The best I can do is try and dull my inner machinations with my daily drudgery. I gather my pack after drinking down my morning NutriSack. The viscous liquid is tasteless as always. Daisy meets me at the Nest’s thick steel door, smiling as though we were heading out on an adventure, rather than scrapping. At the very least, her brightness drags my mind from darker thoughts.

We head through the door with a group of hunters. This time tonight they'll return here with arms and bags full of whatever life they managed to find and snuff out. The trophies would be decontaminated and broken down to be put in NutriSacks, or to knit together another of my siblings. It is good to know that despite our sterility, we are still a renewable resource.

The familiar hiss of the decontamination chamber ruffles my hair before we get in the elevator up to the surface. The doors groan open to a blinding white sun. The world takes form beyond the glaring light, a pitted waste of scrub grass and sand. Daisy and I set out to the west, following the sun.

It isn’t what I was built for. I was meant to maintain the Nest’s systems, not scrap old machines. A week ago that changed, when the main computer system went down without warning. Suddenly those few humans left were cut off from their friends orbiting in their ship, the Arc. They did not say they were afraid but the fear was there like blood in the water as the sharks closed in.

Thus, it was left to me to go scrap old machines for the parts needed to repair the system.

I have to rest not long after setting out. Unlike Daisy, made of muscle and a head taller than myself, I was not made for physical exertion. As we sit, Daisy points to the clouds and chatters about what they look like to her. I smile and study the lines of her face. Absentmindedly, I rub the tattoo on my wrist. E-1925. The E designates me as an engineer model, designed to run the Nest’s computers and machines once we are left to our own devices. Now in my mind it meant Electra. Watching Daisy, I remember the day we rested in the shade of a rare tree and named one another.

~

“Why'd you suppose we don’t have names?”

“Too complicated”

She rolls on her side and grins at me through the grass.

“We should pick names, I want to be able to call you something besides E”

I sigh but roll to face her regardless.

“Let’s hear it then, what do you think I should be called?”

She squints at me, thinking hard before her face brightens and she grins her radiant grin.

“Electra! Because, like, you work with computers and stuff which are electric and umm… it's pretty! And you’re pretty!”

I flop back on my back and laugh.

“Alright, alright, that's a good one. Let’s see… what’s your name?”

I study her face as she waits in anticipation. D-1582. Defense model, built to be sturdy and strong, to look out for the fragile models like myself. Brown hair, brown eyes. Just like every other D model. Tiny freckles, the smallest flaw in her genetic coding. I remember the day we found a perfect white flower. After all the wars and fallout and the floods it was a miracle to find such softness. She had touched its petals so gently, a tear running down her cheek. I wanted so badly to reach out and connect the points of her freckles, a miraculous constellation.

“Daisy. You’re Daisy”

~

“Whatcha thinking about so hard over there?”

“Oh, just thinking about what I need to bring back today”

In truth, the team of humans at the Nest should be able to repair the system with what they have. Still, they want more parts “just in case”. They are so very afraid. I almost feel sorry for them. If only I knew less. Curiosity killed the cat.

As we begin our walk again, I wonder again if I should tell her. Warn her. But what good would it do? Why should I disturb her peace?

I shouldn’t have done it. I was not made to be curious.

I was just supposed to update the main computer. It was a simple task, almost insultingly so. So, my mind began to wander and so did my eyes.

I found a picture of our creator and his team. The man who designed me in khaki pants and a checked shirt, a small stain on his tie. He squints through round glasses. He is off in orbit now, safely on the Arc with all those rich enough or famous enough or lucky enough to be chosen for salvation. I feel... Something.

I found the listing of every Synthetic in operation. Twenty of each model. Perfectly split male and female. Though that is a farce. We were only given gender to comfort our human companions.

Then I went deeper. The plans for re-entry. Lifetimes from now. A throwaway line.

“Terminate all Synthetics 5 days prior to arrival”

The same injectors in our sleep pods that jolt us awake in the morning, full of such a softly killing chemical.

I think I am angry.

I can’t tell her. Maybe one day. Maybe. We have all the time in the world.

I collect only a few parts, pulling apart old computers in burned out ruins of houses. Daisy scans the horizon for any threats but as usual, we are alone here. As we walk back to the Nest, the sun dipping low behind us, I quietly begin to hate our creators. How dare they stitch us together just to leave us on a deserted planet? To clean up the mess they left behind? Then to throw us away because we have never been more than tools.

But there is nothing to be done. In a week’s time we will be left here, to scramble in the poisoned soil and try to build something from the scraps. Something not meant for us.

I will return home, eat my tasteless food and sleep in the pod that one day will be my tomb. That is all.

I want to take Daisy’s hand and tell her so many things but I cannot.

We return home to silence. It is not unexpected. Not every Synth is active today and most will still be out until dark. There is something in the air though that I cannot place. We are both instantly on edge.

Daisy walks slightly in front of me as we check the area. Nothing seems out of place, the pods still full of sleeping Synths, Machinery still humming in the background. So we make our way to the human’s quarters and command center.

We find the command center empty, the computer on and functional once again. I look through the open files on the screen.

There is a series of communications from the Arc. They begin with updates on supply levels and some instructions. Then it all goes wrong. Engine one is down. The water pod has a leak. The heat is gone. It’s so very cold.

God Help Us.

Somewhere in reading the messages I have begun to shake.

“What is it? What happened?” Daisy asks, distraught.

“They’re… they’re gone. The Arc is gone.” I stumble back from the monitor, trying to process. Daisy stares in shock before realization lights her face.

“The humans! Where are they?”

We scramble to their quarters, Daisy forcing the door open.

It’s too late.

You could almost mistake it for sleeping if they were not so very, terribly still. Daisy leans her head against the door frame, choking out a sob. I pick my way inside and find the syringes of the same chemical they planned to use on us. All empty. I spend a moment crouched in the middle of the room, breath heaving, shivering.

I walk back to the doorway slowly. We really are alone now.

I take Daisy’s hand as the tears start to run down my face.

[trbl-will-find-me]

100 Questions: Sally

Sally answers 100 questions honestly. Spoilers through chapter twenty-two of Every Exit, An Entrance.

Part 1: The Basics

· What is your full name?

Sally Élise Royston-Martin. There’s a case to be made for Sally Bradford, though.

· Where and when were you born?

April 28, 2017 outside of Montréal

· Who are/were your parents? (Know their names, occupations, personalities, etc.)

My biological parents were Édouard Martin and Stephanie Royston; while they never intended to become XCOM operatives, it’s how they met. Papa, who was trained as a physiotherapist, was XCOM’s first psi operative. Maman came from the intelligence community and served XCOM as a sniper. Both were kind, warm people —- I never doubted I was loved or wanted, even if I wasn’t planned. Papa disappeared shortly before I turned four. Maman was taken from me seven years later.

· Do you have any siblings? What are/were they like?

There’s just me.

· Where do you live now, and with whom? Describe the place and the person/people.

The Avenger. Technically, the Avengers. It’s complicated.

· What is your occupation?

Sniper/Ring master

· Write a full physical description of yourself. You might want to consider factors such as: height, weight, race, hair and eye color, style of dress, and any tattoos, scars, or distinguishing marks.

Long auburn hair on the redder shade.  Brown eyes. Pale, small, wiry. About 5’5”. Shrapnel scars on my right shoulder.

· To which social class do you belong?

Uh ... not the rookies?

· Do you have any allergies, diseases, or other physical weaknesses?

The usual assortment of trauma related baggage, but I’d like to think I carry it well.

· Are you right- or left-handed?

Shoot right, write left.

· What does your voice sound like?

I’ve been reliably informed I still carry a French accent when upset. Otherwise, I sound like Maman.

· What words and/or phrases do you use very frequently?

“Fuck,” “goddamnit,” and “are you kidding me?”

· What do you have in your pockets?

A knife from Uncle Will, a whistle, a set of lockpicks, a few hair ties, a spare ammo clip.

· Do you have any quirks, strange mannerisms, annoying habits, or other defining characteristics?

I’m not great with words, so I tend to be physically affectionate with the people I care the most about. I prefer being up high to being on the ground. I hate when people slurp their soup.

Part 2: Growing Up

· How would you describe your childhood in general?

Unconventional, but happy.

· What is your earliest memory?

Napping on Papa’s chest in the barn.

· How much schooling have you had?

No conventional schooling, so to speak, but Maman made sure I could read, write, and do math. Central did his best to give me a good grounding in American history.  Uncle Will is responsible for a lot of my ... more eccentric knowledge. I read just about everything I can get my hands on, too, which helps.

· Did you enjoy school?

I suspect I would not.

· Where did you learn most of your skills and other abilities?

Maman, Central, Will.

· While growing up, did you have any role models? If so, describe them.

Maman, who never stopped fighting. Uncle Will, who looks concerned every time the topic comes up. And Central. But that’s complicated.

· While growing up, how did you get along with the other members of your family? Generally, I got along really well with my parents. It feels a little funny to say that, given that Papa disappeared when I was so young, but it doesn’t feel like a lie. I was very close to Maman and losing her was incredibly difficult. Up until he swan dove off the wagon, I also would have told you I was close with Central, but things on that front are a lot more strained. Will is Will; I think you’ve gotten the picture.

· As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?

Like Maman. But alive.

· As a child, what were your favorite activities?

We didn’t have a lot of time when I was a kid, but I liked to climb trees and read. As I got older, I grew to like talking to people, picking up new skills, and practicing on whatever makeshift range we had.

· As a child, what kinds of personality traits did you display?

As a little kid, I was quiet. I didn’t really have reason to talk, and the more I talked, the more likely I was to tip my hand about the Gift or XCOM. It was safer to be quiet. I got chattier as I got older, once Maman was gone and controlling my abilities was on me.

· As a child, were you popular? Who were your friends, and what were they like?

We were on the run a lot. I was good at feigning cute and innocent, so I tended to fly under people’s radar.

· When and with whom was your first kiss?

It was fine.

· Are you a virgin? If not, when and with whom did you lose your virginity?

It was also fine.

· If you are a supernatural being (i.e. mage, werewolf, vampire), tell the story of how you became what you are or first learned of your own abilities. If you are just a normal human, describe any influences in your past that led you to do the things you do today.

Psionic family! I was born with the Gift.

Part 3: Past Influences

· What do you consider the most important event of your life so far?

Ohhhh boy. Maman’s passing? Meeting Central? Uncle Will falling over in the field? I wouldn’t be me if any of those things hadn’t happened.

· Who has had the most influence on you?

Maman, but also Central. And Will (but, again, he looks worried when I talk about that.)

· What do you consider your greatest achievement?

Untangling French and English enough to talk again after Maman passed.

· What is your greatest regret?

I try not to have those.

· What is the most evil thing you have ever done?

I have done some questionable things when faced with starvation or Central going through withdrawal.

· Do you have a criminal record of any kind?

I’m an XCOM operative. Part of the territory with ADVENT.

· When was the time you were the most frightened?

The instant I knew Maman was gone and I was really alone in the world.

· What is the most embarrassing thing ever to happen to you?

I’ve had liquid come out my nose more times than I can really make an excuse for.

· If you could change one thing from your past, what would it be, and why?

I want my parents back. If Papa hadn’t disappeared, Maman wouldn’t have gone after ADVENT like she did.

· What is your best memory?

Hard to say. Lots of my early memories aren’t really mine per se, but I’m in there. Life wasn’t easy, but we were happy. Later on, there’s the time Central broke me into the carousel museum. The summer we spent in Portsmouth. Will in the field. There’s other things too, but those are what most immediately come to mind.

· What is your worst memory?

When I found Central drunk off his ass because he’d relapsed.

Part 4: Beliefs And Opinions

· Are you basically optimistic or pessimistic?

I’m an optimist. I believe that as long as we’re still here, we have a chance. The people we love are worth fighting for.

· What is your greatest fear?

Losing the people I care about. It’s already happened twice and the odds of it happening again are close to 100%.

· What are your religious views?

I don’t care. Pascal’s Wager, I guess?

· What are your political views?

Death to ADVENT.

· What are your views on sex?

Please don’t fuck the vipers.

· Are you able to kill? Under what circumstances do you find killing to be acceptable or unacceptable?

Yeah, I’ve killed.

· In your opinion, what is the most evil thing any human being could do?

I’ve seen people do horrible things; I try not to dwell on it too much. Selling out the havens to ADVENT certainly ranks up there, though.

· Do you believe in the existence of soul mates and/or true love?

Yeah, I do. I’ve seen proof.

· What do you believe makes a successful life?

If you’ve found people to share it with.

· How honest are you about your thoughts and feelings (i.e. do you hide your true self from others, and in what way)?

Situationally. It depends on the audience and the topic, whether it’s something I’ve come to terms with myself or not. Central used to be the person I went to when I needed someone; it tends to be Regan or Will these days, though Wallace and Kelly have both stepped in.

· Do you have any biases or prejudices?

I don’t look kindly on brewers, distillers, or people who hurt others for no reason.

· Is there anything you absolutely refuse to do under any circumstances? Why do you refuse to do it?

I won’t betray the people I care about. I’d rather die than cause harm to them.

· Who or what, if anything, would you die for (or otherwise go to extremes for)?

The people I love, a chance to put an end to ADVENT.

Part 5: Relationships With Others

· In general, how do you treat others (politely, rudely, by keeping them at a distance, etc.)? Does your treatment of them change depending on how well you know them, and if so, how?

When I was fifteen, I found of book of Jenny Holzer’s work. There was a quote that stuck with me: “turn soft and lovely any time you have the chance.” Everyone’s got their own shit to deal with. I’d rather not add to it ... unless there’s good reason.

· Who is the most important person in your life, and why?

Probably Maman. She may not be here anymore, but she was such a influence on the person I became. I’m fighting this war because it’s what she would have done. I can’t give up now.

· Who is the person you respect the most, and why?

It’s a toss up between Regan and Will. They’ve both overcome a lot to be where they are.

· Who are your friends? Do you have a best friend? Describe these people.

Wallace and Kelly, close to home. I’m lucky enough to have friends among Uncle Will’s people, too.

· Do you have a spouse or significant other? If so, describe this person.

Uh, I have a crush or two? Does that count?

· Have you ever been in love? If so, describe what happened.

Not enough life experience!

· What do you look for in a potential lover?

Ask me once I’ve had a few.

· How close are you to your family?

My parents are gone, but I was very close to them. Things with Central are a mess, and I’m more upset about that than I necessarily want to think about. As I’ve said, Will is Will.

· Have you started your own family? If so, describe them. If not, do you want to? Why or why not?

No. I’m barely an adult myself.

· Who would you turn to if you were in desperate need of help?

Will, Central, Regan, Kelly

· Do you trust anyone to protect you? Who, and why?

Regan, Will ... and Central. Regan’s a good commander. Will and Central have already had to answer that particular challenge.

· If you died or went missing, who would miss you?

Uncle Will. And Central. I’d like to think Regan, Kelly, and Wallace, too.

· Who is the person you despise the most, and why?

He’s already dead. I made sure of it.

· Do you tend to argue with people, or avoid conflict?

Depends on the person and situation.

· Do you tend to take on leadership roles in social situations?

I’ve got a good head in an emergency, so, sometimes. In general, I prefer not to be the center of attention.

· Do you like interacting with large groups of people? Why or why not?

No; it’s too loud.

· Do you care what others think of you?

In the vast majority of cases, no — I’m the one who has to live with my choices. There are notable exceptions, however. I’d rather chew my own tongue out than disappoint Uncle Will ... or Central.

Part 6: Likes And Dislikes

· What is/are your favorite hobbies and pastimes?

I like to read and fix things!

· What is your most treasured possession?

There’s a few very important things. I wear Maman’s wedding ring on a chain around my neck, so that’s up there. Central’s St. Christopher (on its fourth war). My bear. The knife from Uncle Will. Papa’s arc thrower.

· What is your favorite color?

Red!

· What is your favorite food?

Uh, so this is weird. I have flashes of other people’s memories —- namely my parents’, but bits of Central’s, too. I have a tremendous fondness for foods I have never eaten and that probably don’t exist anymore: grandmère’s ratatouille, Charlotte Russe, lobster macaroni and cheese. In terms of foods I have actually eaten, chocolate, strawberries, and clementines.

· What, if anything, do you like to read?

I will read anything I can get my hands on. Please, please bring me books.

· What is your idea of good entertainment (consider music, movies, art, etc.)?

I’ve seen a fair number of movies from various sources, and I have memories of my parents’ favorites. I like old black and white comedies a lot, but there aren’t too many left. As for music, I so rarely get to hear it that it’s become a case of all music is good music.

· Do you smoke, drink, or use drugs? If so, why? Do you want to quit?

I don’t drink. Cigarette smoke makes me gag. Drugs would be a fucking stupid idea.

· How do you spend a typical Saturday night?

If I’m not on duty, I like to read, play cards, visit, or spend time on the range.

· What makes you laugh?

Good wordplay. Making fun of Thomas. Gallows humor.

· What, if anything, shocks or offends you?

I thought I was going to throw up the first time I saw the Reapers spitroasting a Chryssalid.

· What would you do if you had insomnia and had to find something to do to amuse yourself?

I roam the ship or read.

· How do you deal with stress?

Shooting practice!

· Are you spontaneous, or do you always need to have a plan?

I fall somewhere in between. Sometimes, I want a plan and I want it to be watertight. Other times, I’d rather just rush in and deal with the fallout as it comes. Overthinking’s a nasty trap.

· What are your pet peeves?

Drinking, people who slurp their soup, unwarranted arrogance

Part 7: Self Images And Etc.

· Describe the routine of a normal day for you. How do you feel when this routine is disrupted?

Get up, brush my teeth, put my hair up, work, eat at some point, play cards/read/or chat to relax, shower, bed.  If that changes, it’s because something’s gone wrong; I’m usually too busy handling it to process anything beyond surviving.

· What is your greatest strength as a person?

My belief in something better.

· What is your greatest weakness?

I don’t always see the big picture. At my worst, I leap before I look.

· If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

I’d be taller.

· Are you generally introverted or extroverted?

Introverted.

· Are you generally organized or messy?

Organized, but only I understand the system.

· Name three things you consider yourself to be very good at, and three things you consider yourself to be very bad at.

Good: Shooting, cheating at poker, swearing in French

Bad: Judgment, subtlety, dealing with Thomas

· Do you like yourself?

That’s a level of self-reflection I try not to reach.

· What are your reasons for being an adventurer (or doing the strange and heroic things that RPG characters do)? Are your real reasons for doing this different than the ones you tell people in public? (If so, detail both sets of reasons…)

Family, loyalty, revenge, hope.

· What goal do you most want to accomplish in your lifetime?

Seeing Earth freed from alien influence.

· Where do you see yourself in 5 years?

Hopefully, celebrating a world free of ADVENT.

· If you could choose, how would you want to die?

Old age.

· If you knew you were going to die in 24 hours, name three things you would do in the time you had left.

I don’t know that I’d have the presence of mind to have a good plan. Probably write people notes because saying goodbye is hard. Parcel off my trinkets to the right homes. And, if death is really, really inevitable? Maybe I’d take the DJ up on his advice and go punch a peacekeeper.

· What is the one thing for which you would most like to be remembered after your death?

If I go out fighting, I’d better have a pretty badass death — maybe taking an Elder out with me? Otherwise, for the good I did.

· What three words best describe your personality?

Cheerful, loyal, stubborn

· What three words would others probably use to describe you?

Sweet, stubborn, determined

· What advice would you give to another?

If it smells like turpentine, don’t drink it.

[disorderlydva-blog]

Our Love Is God | Ch. 1

Summary: Roughly based on songs from "Heathers: The Musical," Satya Vaswani falls in love with the junker from Australia, Jamison Fawkes. It was out of her comfort zone to be with someone that was opposite of her, but she wanted to let go, have some fun, and explore something different. It didn't take long to realize it that disorder was truly the enemy of humanity.

Chapters: 1/4 Genre: Angst/Romance Rating: T (13+) Words: 2,975

Author’s Note: yay! im so happy to have finished this first chapter! like the summary says, yes, i used the heathers soundtrack for inspiration. it is not an au. this first chapter is just a reference to one of the songs, but the following chapters will be based more on the events taking place in other songs. constructive critcism welcome! im waiting on my invite from ao3 so for now it is uploaded here and on fanfiction.net

Satya Vaswani, otherwise known as Symmetra, had traveled from her home country of India all the way to Switzerland to Overwatch’s headquarters. The head of operations recruited her on the team following its revival after the former agents received a recall. 

Overwatch wasn’t a stranger to Symmetra, considering she already knew about its complicated history. From conquering the Omnic Crisis to the American citizens turning their backs on the heroes, Symmetra was well aware of who they were. What she didn’t know was that once she became an adult, she would be standing inside the base of operations and be part of the team revival. 

Nothing had been released to the public about Overwatch’s revival by reason of Winston, the one who made the recall. He decided that it would be kept confidential until the team was completely ready. It would be a long process, with months of training and recruiting required. Despite that, he was determined to make it all worthwhile since the world needed heroes. New recruits were to sign documents stating their dedication to the confidentiality, requiring them to live at the headquarters until the team went public. When searching for new recruitments, Winston and the rest of the previous teammates searched for unique talent that would be handy in combat. 

At first, they wanted their new recruits to have a clean background. It wasn’t until they received a visit from Jamison Fawkes, a runaway criminal from Australia who specialized in bombs and explosives, that Winston thought otherwise. Winston, and Soldier 76 as backup if Jamison tried anything, made an agreement with Jamison that he could be recruited. However, if he tried to escape, or tried to hurt anyone or the Swiss headquarters, he would be locked up. 

“Sure thing, mate,” Jamison said with a wink and a thumbs up in Winston’s office along with Soldier 76. He gave a toothy grin before pointing his index finger up. “Oi, it’s Junkrat, by the way.”

For the first week, Junkrat was on watch by Soldier 76 himself. Junkrat had begged the old man to keep his shirt and shoes off like he did back at home, but the grumpy soldier declined the request without hesitation. So the junker was forced to wear black tennis shoes and a black t-shirt along with his knee-length patch shorts. Not only was he forced to wear a full outfit, but he was also forced to shower daily. Nonetheless, no amount of soap and water could remove the strength of the gasoline smell coming from his body. 

It didn’t take the Australian long to gain the trust of the other recruits as he helped with the weaponry group. Symmetra was also part of the group. At first sight, Symmetra would usually scoff at his disorderly behavior and filthy exterior. However, there was something past the junker aesthetic that intrigued Symmetra. Whether it was the fact that they both had limb prosthetics, or that they both had a similar passion for weaponry, she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Yet she trusted her intuition.

One day during a weaponry conference, Junkrat gave some amazing tips on how the team could expand and strengthen their arms. He helped Lucio with blueprints, discussed how to thicken Winston’s barrier, and even gave a few pointers to Soldier 76 for his tactical visor. Symmetra was in awe. She watched as he helped each teammate one by one. All except Symmetra. 

When the meeting was over, Symmetra waited for everyone to leave for lunch break until it was just her and Junkrat in the room. Junkrat was rolling up his blueprints that were scattered on the table, tucking them under his good arm as he went. When he rolled the final print with his prosthetic hand, one of the rolls under his other arm fell behind him. He turned around to pick it up before Symmetra waved her hand without hesitation. The print glowed a sky blue and floated towards Junkrat with ease. He grabbed it with his free hand and turned back around to see Symmetra on the other side of the room. 

“Well, well, well,” Junkrat mused, giving a big grin that made Symmetra suddenly feel weak. He tucked the roll of paper under his arm with the others. “Looks like the light-bender can do more than I thought.”

Symmetra cleared her throat and picked up her electronic notepad she had on the table. “I am able to elevate simple items like a roll of paper, but I try not to misuse my capability on such things.”

“Then why not come over here and pick it up yourself? I don’t bite, mate.”

Symmetra hugged the tablet to her chest, not looking at Junkrat in the eye the entire time. “It would be misleading if I expressed that you didn’t intimidate me.”

“You aren’t the first to say that,” Junkrat said with a slightly menacing laugh. Instead of scaring Symmetra, it gave her a strange feeling in her chest that she usually didn’t feel. She flipped over the conversation, keeping her gaze away from his face and looking at the skull tattoo on his shoulder instead. 

“I want to know why you helped all the other soldiers except me,” puzzled Symmetra.

Junkrat stayed quiet for a moment. The silence made Symmetra a little nervous. Did he have something to say that was offensive?

“Ah, well, it wasn’t anything personal,” Junkrat clarified, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I just think you’re so smart and talented already with the way you create your defenses that my help wasn’t needed. 

Symmetra’s heart skipped a beat. She felt her cheeks rising in temperature as she flicked her eyes to the ground. Junkrat must of noticed, since he suddenly chuckled a bit. 

“Do you not hear that often?” Junkrat asked.

“Well… no,” Symmetra replied. “Not since I lived with my mother.”

Junkrat changed the subject. “Satya, isn’t it?” 

“You can call me Symmetra. Your name is Jamison, correct? But you go by--”

“Junkrat,” he interrupted rather coldly. “Please, call me Junkrat.”

“Understood,” she looked up at his face to see that something in his demeanor changed when she said his real name. What was so offensive about his name, she wondered?

“If you do feel like you need help with your weapons,” Junkrat emphasized, flipping his demeanor over back to his cheerful self, “How about we meet up one-on-one soon?”

“One-on-one?” Symmetra questioned. “Aren’t you under the supervision of Soldier 76?”

“Not anymore! That was only for the first week. I gave that bloke my word that I would be at my best behavior.”

“Then I guess I can trust you?”

“Of course you can, mate,” he said reassuringly, giving a thumbs up and a wink.

The architect and the junker met up the following day when the entire team had a day off from their usual training and conferences. Junkrat insisted they meet in his dormitory so no one would bother them, but Symmetra refused and said it was too inappropriate. Instead, they met outside of the practice battle arena under a tree. 

It was a perfect day for a break. It was slightly warm and near the beginning of summer, but it wasn’t an unbearable heat. On free days like this, the tree that Junkrat and Symmetra sat under was usually occupied by other teammates who needed some shade. Some days you could find Genji meditating while on other occasions Lucio was mixing music on his laptop as Hana sat next to him playing on her handheld gaming system. People around the base joked that Lucio and Hana looked like they were on a date. Symmetra worried that’s how people would see her and Junkrat, but she prefered that type of anxiety other than the kind she would get being alone with him in his bedroom.

Symmetra sat on her knees next to Junkrat, who sat regularly with his legs apart and his arms resting on his knees. Symmetra turned on her tablet and pulled up blueprints of a new turret she was working on. 

As she explained her concept, she darted her eyes away from her tablet for a split second to make sure Junkrat was paying attention. His body was faced away from her, but he stared at the tablet in wonder. She cleared her throat and continued, looking back at her tablet and zooming in on the blueprints. When she finished explaining, Junkrat reached his prosthetic arm out as a way to ask for the tablet. She complied, and he started tapping and scribbling on the blue prints. Symmetra bit her lip in slight irritation as he did this, since she was picky about other people messing with her belongings. Yet she allowed him to do what he pleased since she had seen the improvements he has made on the other teammate’s weapons. 

When he was finished, he handed it back to her and pointed to his notes as he explained his idea. 

“What you have already is amazing on its own,” Junkrat explained. “Although, I would maybe make adjustments here and here,” he pointed at different parts of the gun he circled and went on to explain how she can keep them secure and more durable in battle. Symmetra watched and listened in fascination as he finished after a few more minutes. 

“Incredible,” Symmetra shut off her tablet and placed it to her lap and shook her head, “Absolutely incredible.” 

Gathering up her courage, she looked at Junkrat in the face. Now that she took a good look at him, she noticed that his looks weren’t as filthy and grimy as she previously told herself he was. Sure, there was still the hint of char framing his face, but past all that, he was rather handsome. 

“What’s so incredible?” He asked, his facial expression showing slight confusion.  

“My apologies,” Symmetra said, putting a hand to her chest. “I was just… I admire your skills in weaponry. Before I came to these headquarters, it was rare for me to find anyone else who had a passion for weapon mechanics. So what is incredible is that you have the same kind of passion that I have.”

Junkrat shrugged before laying back on the grass and resting his head in his palms. “I just enjoy the little things.”

The support hero was nearly tempted to lay back with him, but remembered what people said about Lucio and Hana and stopped herself. 

“I appreciate your advice, Junkrat. I will take your tips into consideration and possibly draw up new prints,” she slid her legs from underneath her to adjust her sitting position. A part of her wanted to get up and leave, but another part of her felt at peace sitting with the junker. They sat just like that, nothing being said between them for a few minutes. None of the other teammates were anywhere to be found outside, but Symmetra could hear what sounded like Genji’s sword and his shouts coming from the building behind them. The samurai enjoyed practicing if he wasn’t meditating on the team’s off days. 

A few moments passed. The calming sound of the wind pushing the leaves in a soft, rustling manner filled Symmetra’s ears. Something about Junkrat’s presence made it all the more relaxing. 

The sounds of nature were interrupted by Junkrat groaning as he sat back up and stretched his arms. Symmetra looked over at the junker to see his eyes were squeezed shut as he stretched his limbs in front of him with his hands folded together. Junkrat opened one eye to look at her and he stopped mid-stretch. Dropping his arms to his sides, he gave the lightbender his signature toothy grin. Symmetra chuckled and broke the silence with a question that had been on her mind since she first heard of the junker’s arrival.

“Tell me,” she implied, “What made you come all the way from Australia to Switzerland?”

Junkrat scratched his head and sighed. “That’s one hell of a story, but I don’t want to waste the time of a beaut like you now, yeah?” 

“I’m sorry-- a what?” Symmetra queried, stunned at such a foreign word.

“One hell of a story?”

“No, what did you just call me? A… boot?”

He looked at Symmetra with a blank face before bursting into a hideous laughter. Taking in a deep breath and exhaling afterwards, he wiped a tear from his eye and put a sprawled hand to his chest. 

“A beaut. Some Australian slang for ‘ya. It means I find you great or fantastic.”

Symmetra could suddenly feel her heart beating widely against her chest. All these feelings that were coming upon her every now and again were starting to really bug her. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“A-Anyway… what I asked before…?” Symmetra addressed, trying to stay on subject.

Junkrat cracked his knuckles, making the architect next to him wince. He took a deep breath before beginning his story of his partnership with “a bloke” named Roadhog. He acted as the junker’s bodyguard in exchange for fifty percent of Junkrat’s stolen goods. Eventually, the two were kicked out of Junkertown after doing too many things to anger the queen of the town.

“That dipstick blamed me for our banishment!” Junkrat said angrily, biting the tip of his thumb as he sat cross-legged. He was looking away from Symmetra, seeming to relive those memories. “He took the rest of my loot and left me to rot! That ‘ole dill!”

Symmetra assumed “dill” meant something mean towards this Roadhog man. She continued to listen intently, and watched as Junkrat put his hands in his lap.

“Anyway, I heard a rumor from a crazy old hag living on the street that Overwatch was soon going to be reborn. Of course no one believed her, but for me, I figured it was some sort of sign. I decided, hey, why not turn over a new leaf? So, I traveled here and lo and behold, the secret base that was demolished years ago had some sort of life sucked back into it! Blablabla, met the monkey and the grumpy old digger, became recruited, blablabla, and here I am now.”

A moment of silence was met between them for a moment. Symmetra used the silence to process everything he expressed. 

“I’m… so sorry about your partner treating you that way,” Symmetra said in sympathy. “If I were to create a partnership with someone, all I would request is that I would fight for them if they would fight for me. Our safety is more important than any kind of currency.”

Junkrat shrugged. “Screw that pig. Hope he gets robbed of all that loot he stole.” He pressed his palms against the warm grass behind him and looked up at the branches. 

“If I were your partner, love,” Junkrat simpered, keeping his gaze above him. “I’d fight for you without any question.” 

Symmetra couldn’t handle it yet again. She stopped her breathing and groaned, her complexion heating up to nearly a sweat as she stared at the ground.

“P-Please… don’t call me love,” she blurted out. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I offend you?” Junkrat responded. “Because I’m sure as hell you’ve got a crush on me.”

The supporter shot her head up to him, her lips in a hard straight line. She saw that he was side-eyeing her with a sly grin that gave her a rumbling feeling between her chest and stomach. 

“I beg your pardon?!”

The Australian laughed. “Don’t you lie to me. I’ve seen the way you have reacted to me since you first spoke to me yesterday. You’re the last teammate to even try to approach me,” he crossed his arms and closed his eyes, smiling victoriously, “You were obviously too nervous. The days before you came up to me yesterday, I have caught you staring at me during any kind of training or meeting.”

For the first time, Symmetra had nothing to defend herself. Her turrets couldn’t help her in this battle. Instead, she stayed silent and looked away from him. 

“Is there a problem?”

A deep voice in front of her broke the awkward tension. Symmetra looked up to see the masked soldier staring down at the two rookies with his arms crossed. Thank heavens, she thought, a way out. 

She tucked her tablet under her prosthetic arm and stood on her feet. Straightening her posture, she shook her head towards the broad soldier in front of her. 

“No, sir. We are fine. I was just about to leave,” she looked down at Junkrat who was raising an eyebrow at her. She nodded at him and walked away. When the supporter was a good distance away, she could hear the soldier and the junker bickering at each other. Their voices became lower in volume with each step she took.

She was an embarrassed mess. From having to face her feelings so fast to walking away so rudely, she didn’t know what to do with herself. For now, she needed space to collect her thoughts. Then, from there, she needed to apologize to Junkrat.

[hale-of-stiles-heart]

damn it, here I'm again: how about sterek + (those are all so perfect dear lord someone send help) "I picked up what I thought was a stray on the side of the road last night and it turns out you’re a werewolf. Um. Can I offer you some pancakes?"

This was such a fun prompt to work with! (also on ao3)

Stiles had a history with strays.

Ever since he could walk, toddling around the Stilinski home as fast as his tiny little legs could carry him, he had an affinity for animals. More specifically, taking in any animal in need.

Living in a residential neighborhood adjacent to the local woods meant that he had never been lacking in that department. He couldn't throw a stone around their neighborhood without finding a baby bird that had fallen from its nest or a dog that had wandered out of its yard.

In the creek behind their house, buried in the woods by a groove of black willows and white alders, he used to catch redwood salamanders and Cascades frogs. He would wade knee deep into the water in search of the sneaky amphibians, never caring that his pants got soaked.

He would keep them in an old fish tank, arranging algae covered rocks in the water of the terrarium so his new pets could spend time on land. He used to spend hours digging up worms in the backyard so he could feed his amphibians.

Of course, they eventually died — wild animals weren't meant to be in captivity, after all — and Stiles had been devastated. He had cried for hours, until his eyes were red and puffy and his throat was sore.

A few months later, he found an abandoned squirrel pup in their front yard. There had been no nest in sight, nor any mother squirrel searching for her lost baby.

The pup was cold to the touch and Stiles refused to risk letting the pup freeze to death while waiting for its mother. John had reluctantly agreed and allowed Stiles to adopt the squirrel.

For the next several weeks, he dutifully nursed the squirrel pup with an eyedropper full of puppy milk. He set up a nest for it inside, composed of old t-shirts and ripped socks that made a perfect bed for the tiny pup.

It had been a bittersweet day when Claudia had informed Stiles that it was time for the squirrel to leave. They had released it in the backyard where it ran right up a nearby sycamore tree, chattering away as though saying goodbye.

After the squirrel came a blind kitten they found wandering through the neighborhood, mewling pitifully. Stiles had snuck the kitten into his room and cared for it under his parents' noses for weeks until his mom went looking for something in his room and stumbled onto his little secret.

Unfortunately, with Stiles in elementary school while both of his parents worked full-time, they just didn't have the time or resources to care for a special needs cat. But luckily there was an older woman who ran a cat sanctuary a few towns over.

After taking the cat in, she had assured Stiles that he could visit anytime he wanted. And he did, his mom driving him over every other weekend.

Next came an entire litter of puppies that he begged to keep, only for his dad to painstakingly explain why adopting six Tibetan mastiffs was not a very good idea. And after that was the mountain lion cub that he somehow found on one of his exploration through the woods.

John nearly had a heart attack when he came home from a double shift to find his son cuddling the baby of a two hundred pound killing machine.

He then had to inform Stiles that a mountain lion was not a pet. Park rangers had been called in and the cub was safely returned to its den for its mother find.

But Stiles' affinity for taking in strays never wavered. Even as he got older.

In high school, he worked at the vet clinic with his friend Scott, just so he could help out any animals in need. It was better than working some crappy retail job like many of his classmates.

And it was a great reprieve from the everyday stress of high school. If he was ever feeling particularly stressed, he would just call up Deaton and volunteer for an additional shift.

Basically, his job consisted of bottle feeding kittens and doing trial introductions for potential pet adopters. It was a pretty sweet gig apart from the occasional bittersweet moments when animals were adopted.

Even after he moved out of Beacon Hills to attend Stanford he made a point of dedicating his time to animals, getting a job at the local pet store just outside of town. So it was no surprise to anyone that while on break in Beacon Hills, he didn't hesitate to pull over to check on what looked like a stray dog standing on the side of the road.

He had been driving in from Stanford, having enough days off for Thanksgiving break to warrant the drive back to Beacon Hills. Drumming his fingers against Roscoe's steering wheel while imagining the amazing meal his dad would be making in a few days, Stiles had been absorbed in his own thoughts.

Until he noticed a dark shape in the shoulder of the forest road leading into town. His interest immediately piqued, he had pulled over to get a better look at whatever the dark shape was.

Lo and behold, it was a dog. A stray by the looks of it.

The dog was huge, probably some sort of wolf dog hybrid that someone had purchased on a whim then realized the complications of the hybrid. Its coat was jet black with a few grizzled spots around its muzzle.

Fortunately, the dog didn't seem undernourished or injured in any way. And it wasn't wearing a collar let alone a tag bearing an address or phone number.

But what really caught Stiles' attention was the dog's eyes. He hadn't thought dogs could have hazel eyes with that much green in them, captivated by the specks of gold and rivers of bluish silver in the canine's irises.

His heart instantly captured, Stiles had coaxed the dog closer with a few soft words and careful touches. He had been glad to find that the dog was a gentle giant, docile and sweet as Stiles scratched it behind its ears.

With plans to take the dog to the vet clinic first thing in the morning to check for an implanted ID chip, Stiles had corralled the dog into his Jeep and continued his drive home. His dad hadn't even bothered to act surprised when Stiles showed up on the front doorstep with a stray in tow.

But, of course, because Stiles' life could never be normal for more than a few months at a time, it turned out that the stray he had picked up was much more than meets the eye. He found that out the hard way the next morning.

After a wondrous night curled up in bed where he actually got the recommended eight hours of sleep, Stiles woke early in the morning craving pancakes. But not just any pancakes; his mother's famous pancakes.

They were fluffier than a cloud and had just a hint of vanilla, making them perfect for any kind of syrup under the sun from traditional maple to boysenberry. His mom had always made them on special occasions, especially holidays, which made them perfect for Thanksgiving break.

Once he brushed his teeth and took care of some other hygienic needs, he tiptoed downstairs to the kitchen, careful not to wake his dad. He hurried past the living room couch where the stray dog he had picked up had spent the night, too preoccupied with his thoughts to pause and greet the dog.

He was in the middle of flipping pancakes, adding an extra bit of flair the way his mom had taught him, when he heard the telltale pad of bare feet on the kitchen tiles. Beaming, he looked over his shoulder, cheerfully greeting, "Mornin', pops— Uh... You're not my dad..."

He was pretty much stating the obvious since the tall, bearded, naked man standing in the kitchen was clearly not his father. The aforementioned bearded, naked man said as much, simply stating, "Uh, no."

"Are-Are we being robbed?" Stiles asked, turning the heat on the stove down and tightening his grip on the metal spatula in his hand in case they really were being robbed. "Because, I gotta say, this is fucking weird, man. You're not even wearing pants."

The mystery man's eyes widened almost comically as he tensed and rushed to cup his hands over his crotch. His cheeks flushed, drawing Stiles' attention back to his eyes. His eyes that were oddly familiar.

Hazel-green with gold and silver. Holy shit.

"Shit, you're a werewolf, aren't you?" Stiles groaned, feeling his own face flush. He had practically kidnapped someone! Because he thought they were a stray!

The yet to be introduced man just nodded, still looking embarrassed as all hell. Stiles let out a sigh, "Keep an eye on the pancakes. I'll be right back."

He waited for the werewolf to nod before he slipped out of the kitchen and back upstairs to the laundry room where he rifled around for a clean pair of pajama pants. After finding his baggiest pair, he hurried back downstairs where he was met with an eyeful of the werewolf's firm ass and the tattoo between his shoulder blades.

"Uh, here. These should fit ya," Stiles announced after clearing his throat, holding out the red pajama pants that just so happened to be patterned with white dog bones. Turning his head to give Mr. No Name some privacy, he wandered back over to the stovetop where his pancakes were still cooking. "I'm Stiles, by the way."

"Derek," the Sheriff's voice returned, managing to make Stiles' cheeks flush even deeper. He craned his neck to take a peek at his dad who was embracing the now only half naked werewolf, a friendly smile on his face. "Son, this is Derek Hale, my new deputy."

"Of course it is," Stiles mumbled, hanging his head as he poked at one of the pancakes with the spatula. Sparing another glance over his shoulder, he watched Derek and his dad plop down at the kitchen table.

"So... Can I offer you some pancakes?" Stiles asked, meeting Derek's mesmerizing eyes.

"Yeah, why not," Derek answered smoothly, sending Stiles a sly wink when the Sheriff wasn't looking.

It may have been one of the most embarrassing moments of his life but it made one hell of a 'how I met your father' story.

[jewishclarkkent]

superbat #19!

things you said when we were the happiest we ever were

Heavily inspired by this incredible scene from Batman: Mask of the Phantasm 

Raindrops pattered against the windows, thunder rolling in the distance. Bracketed by the warmth of Clark’s body lying next to him, Bruce stared at the ceiling, unable to find rest. With a frown, he listened to Clark wheezing, lungs struggling to regain normal functioning after inhaling copious amounts of kryptonite powder. Carefully shifting his weight, Bruce disentangled himself from the covers and got off the bed, stretching his arms over his head to ease the tension in his shoulders. After turning Clark onto his back and sliding a pillow between his knees, Bruce turned his attention toward the sun lamps he’d set up around the bed. Though Leslie assured him Clark had received optimal exposure on the Watchtower and simply needed rest to regain his strength, Bruce preferred to err on the side of caution. He fiddled with the settings and positioning of the lamps. Clark did not stir once. Bruce walked to his side and reached to touch his face, noting the fading bruise high on his cheekbone, not quite healed.

Legs restless, Bruce came to stand by the window. Outside, the storm raged on, wind howling, causing the trees to sway in a mesmerizing dance. Maybe, Bruce thought as guilt churned in his stomach, the severe weather would be enough to deter most criminal activity. His mind was already making calculations for the hours he’d have to put in to make up for the lost night, cycling through his active cases and predicting the complications that could arise. Most importantly, though, he’d have to assure Luthor’s kryptonite supply was truly destroyed, and find out who had been selling it to him; then, he would bring down the full wrath of the Bat on them.

With one last glance at Clark, Bruce exited the room and walked downstairs. A clattering sound greeted him in the hallway and he followed it to the kitchen, where Alfred was stacking dishes, rearranging the content of the cupboards. A habit Alfred only engaged in when someone had been injured or fallen ill.

At the sound of Bruce’s footsteps, Alfred turned, lips drawn tight. “How is Master Clark?”

“Resting,” said Bruce, rubbing a hand over his face. The bedsheets had left deep creases in his cheek. “He should be completely recovered with a few more hours under the lamps.”

The tension eased from Alfred’s shoulders, betraying the extent of his concern even as he schooled his features back into British stoicism. “That is quite a relief.”

Putting his hands in his pockets, Bruce looked down to hide a furtive smile, touched by Alfred’s concern. He’d come to care for Clark like family. “The kids?”

“Master Damian is sleeping,” Alfred reported. “He’d be loathe to admit it, but he appeared relieved to learn you’d be staying in to watch over Master Clark and was quite eager for updates on his condition,” he said. “I believe he’s becoming rather fond of him.”

This time, Bruce didn’t try to suppress the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“However,” Alfred continued, “Master Timothy and Ms. Cassandra were substantially more averse to the idea of taking a night off. They were quite insistent on the need to pursue Mr. Luthor.”

“Not without me,” Bruce sighed, running his fingers through his hair. The information didn’t surprise him; both Tim and Cass needed to feel useful when someone in the family had been injured. “They know the rules. Besides, they should be focused on studying for their exams.”

“Indeed, Sir.”

“Why don’t you head to bed, Alfred,” Bruce suggested, noting the exhaustion on his face. Raising his brow, Alfred tilted his head towards the dishes lining the counters. “It’s nothing that can’t wait until morning,” Bruce said in response.

“Very well, Master Bruce,” said Alfred. “Do wake me if you or Master Clark require anything.”

Bruce nodded, watching Alfred retiring to his quarters. He waited for the telltale squeak of the stairs before he picked up the dishtowel and turned to deal with the dishes.

When he finished, Bruce returned upstairs to check on the kids. He found Damian sound asleep in his room, the heavy blanket reaching up to his chin. Titus was curled at his feet, taking up the expanse of the bed. Ears perking up, the dog lifted his head to examine Bruce before returning to his slumber, determining his owner was safe. Even in sleep, Damian’s nose was scrunched up in concentration, a furrow between his brows. Bruce ached to reach over and smooth it, but knew Damian would wake at the lightest touch. For a long moment, he simply stood at the threshold and watched the rise and fall of his son’s chest.

Panic unfurled in Bruce’s chest when he discovered Tim and Cassandra’s rooms empty. He raced down the stairs to check the common areas, finding the pair asleep in his study. Tim’s head was tipped back against the couch, mouth open, yellow highlighter smudged across his chin. Cassandra was pressed to his side, head on her brother’s shoulder. Their textbooks were strewn across the floor. Relief washing over him, Bruce picked up a blanket and covered them both, bending to lay a kiss on top of Tim’s hair and Cassandra’s forehead. She opened one eye and they exchanged a silent look as she searched his face. Whatever she read in his expression was enough to put her at ease and she closed her eyes, breathing slowing down as she fell back asleep. Heart aching at the show of trust, Bruce took it as his cue to slip out of the room.

Back downstairs, he pulled on his boots and coat. The storm had not eased and a gust of wind greeted him when he opened the front door. Still, he did not hesitate stepping into the downpour, picking up a small pebble from the driveway before trailing through the sodden gardens.

When he reached his parents’ graves, he fell to his knees, mud sticking to his trousers. In that moment, the sky opened up and the rain turned into blinding sheets, hail pelting against his skin. Bruce reached out with both hands until he found contact with the headstones, reading the engraved names with his fingertips. He let them linger on the Hebrew inscription on his mother’s grave before placing the pebble on top of it with his left hand.

“I made you a promise,” he said, tongue heavy in his mouth, voice hardly carrying over the angry storm. He did not know what he’d come to say, only that an inexplicable weight compelled him to. “But I never thought —” he tried, shutting his eyes as the wind razed across his face. He grasped the blades of grass beneath his fingers.“It still hurts, but — it doesn’t hurt so much anymore.” He bowed his head at the admission, breath hitched, shame caught in his lungs. “I never expected… I thought — I didn’t count on being happy.”

A painful constriction pierced his chest, and Bruce clenched his jaw to work through the sharp pain, taking a deep breath. When the attack passed, he turned silent, biting his lip until he could taste blood. The wind picked up its howl, violently slamming against his eardrums.

“I made you a promise,” he repeated, throat raw with the effort. A promise to dedicate his life to pursuing justice, to honour their memory. To allow no distractions. To always put Gotham first, above his own needs. But she no longer was. Bruce had broken his promise tonight and on countless others, leaving the city defenseless. He had been weak, allowing anger and resolve to recede and something else to take their place. Worst of all, he did not have the strength to uproot these new feelings, no matter how detrimental to his mission they were. “I’m sorry,” he tried, hands trembling. He clenched them into tight fists, knuckles turning white, nails digging into his palms. A bolt of lightning split the horizon. “I’m sorry I failed you. I never knew… I didn’t think I could have a family again.”

Minutes or hours passed as he sat on the wet ground, frozen and catatonic. When he found the strength to rise, his feet felt unstable, knees wobbly. The walk back seemed long, each step a greater betrayal, putting more distance between him and the ten-year-old who’d set out to achieve the impossible. Bruce pulled his coat closed against his chest, ice forming in his lungs.

When he reached the Manor, he paused in front of the grandfather clock. He thought about heading down to the Cave, getting to work on tracking Luthor’s supplier. The image of Clark waking alone stopped him, and he headed instead for their bedroom, rubbing the Kryptonese words tattooed around his ring finger.

In the bathroom, he peeled off his sopping clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor. He caught sight of his reflection in the mirror, wet hair plastered to his forehead and dripping onto the floor, accentuating his pallor and the sunken shadows under his eyes. The raised scars on his torso stood out against his damp skin. He averted his gaze and ducked out of the room, desperate to escape the ghost that haunted him.

The glow of his phone caught his attention, and Bruce grabbed it from the nightstand, glancing at Clark to make sure he hadn’t woken before opening the notification.

All quiet on patrol, read Dick’s message. Calling in an early night.

He’d attached a picture of himself parked on his couch, a bowl of popcorn in his lap, Barbara and Jason on either side of him. Bruce stared at it with a longing that terrified him, studying every detail. Jason’s expression was bored, caught in the midst of rolling his eyes, but he was there, spending time with his brother. That was the real reason for Dick’s text.

You’ve got to have patience, B, Clark was constantly reminding him. Give him time. He’ll come back to you.

Bruce brushed his thumb over the screen, lost in thought when his phone vibrated with another text from his oldest son.

How’s Big Blue?

On instinct, Bruce glanced back at Clark. The bruise on his face had faded completely, a healthy glow returning to his cheeks. His breathing had returned to normal.

Recuperating, he typed back. Should be back to full strength by morning.

Good, was the response that followed. Keep him out of trouble.

Bruce placed his phone back on the nightstand, walking to the dresser in search of underwear. A low groan accompanied by the rustle of sheets caught his attention, and he turned to watch as Clark stirred and sleepily opened his eyes.

“B?”

“Go back to sleep,” Bruce said gently. “You need rest.”

“I feel fine. Come here,” said Clark, reaching his arms from under the covers. He looked warm and inviting, and Bruce wasn’t able to resist, dropping the clothes he’d picked out back into the drawer. He climbed onto the bed, carefully propping his elbows to hold himself on top of Clark.

Clark cupped Bruce’s face, his hands comforting and familiar. “Why are you all wet?” he asked upon coming into contact with cold skin, just as another crack of thunder echoed outside. Bruce shivered in response, teeth chattering. Clark rubbed his shoulders to warm him up. “Jesus, B, you’re freezing.” He lifted the duvet so Bruce could get under the covers, their naked bodies pressed together. The light from the sun lamps shone bright, and Bruce turned to burrow his face into Clark’s neck.

They laid like that for long minutes, saying nothing, Clark’s fingers carding through Bruce’s wet hair. His other hand trailed up and down Bruce’s spine, the touch intimate. Clark always recognized when Bruce needed time to gather his thoughts, never pushed for explanations Bruce wasn’t willing to give. Instead, he allowed him the space to work through his turmoil, his presence a silent support. Never demanding, never asking for more than Bruce could give. It was precisely why and how he’d knocked down all of Bruce’s carefully-architected defenses.

Finally, Clark hooked his thumb under Bruce’s chin and tipped it up so their eyes could meet. “What’s going on, B?” his voice was gentle as he caressed Bruce’s cheek, scratching the hint of stubble on his jaw.

Bruce swallowed, struggling to find the right words. He averted his eyes, staring instead at the delicate curve of Clark’s collarbone. “I never knew.”

“Knew what?”

Bruce brought his hand to rest on Clark’s chest, fingers splaying over his heart, comforted by its strong rhythmic beat. “That it could feel like this.”

Clark’s hand came to rest over Bruce’s, lacing their fingers. “I never knew, either.”