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drunknillawafer · 2 months ago

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right down the line: zuko x firebender!reader (part 9)

You grew up close to the Royal Family due to your father's position as a General, but you ran away from home after the agni kai against your best friend, Zuko. Now, you've joined the Gaang and plan on doing your part in ending the 100-year war.

Part 8 Part 10

hiiii omg yall know ill never leave yall hanging!!! i love this fic like i want to finish it to the very end and even had some older zuko & reader stuff... maybe even some korra time period stuff... like!! reminder: characters are not mine I do not own them... word count approx 2500... let me know how u like it! don't forget to reblog like comment if u do like it hehe >.<

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

It wasn’t the throbbing headache pulsing in my right temple from my lack of sleep. It wasn’t the danger looming over our shoulders in the form of a Fire Nation metal machine. It wasn’t the shouts and trembles of earth from Katara and Toph’s adjustment to a fifth member on the team. It wasn’t the fact that Appa had crash-landed and some tree branches from the speed of dropping cut my bicep. No, it was not any of those things that finally drove me over the edge.

It was what Aang said when he was inevitably driven to madness because of our current situation.

It’s one of those rare moments that Sokka is standing outside of a group outburst.

“You’re not carrying your own weight, Appa is,” the young-air bender begins, “We didn’t have trouble flying when it was just the three of us!” My sigh punctuates his confession.

Without another moment passing us by, Toph grabs her cross-body bag and heads toward any direction that would take her the furthest from here.

Sokka steps in her way as a last effort for resolution. Oh, how it must feel to stand outside of the tension, holding the ability to remain neutral. “Wait!” He tries. She moves him in one swift kick and the dirt from under him grazes him to the side.

I’m right behind her.

“Where are you going?” The boy in blue questions me. His begging blue eyes glaring into mine.

I shrug it off. “With Toph! The three of you will be fine.”

Did they all think this about us—Aang, Katara, and Sokka about Toph and I: newcomers to the group of children burdened with saving the world? I push it aside with the rest of the questions I don’t want the answer to. It didn’t matter anyways. I’d never leave them for good.

The dirt crunches under my boots. A forged path in the spring forest leading us further and further away from the commotion. It’s just me and the earth-bender walking side-by-side with no plan in place.

It had only been a week since her official admission to the group but we both quickly registered that we’d prefer the walk to be silent. After the last two days, peace and quiet were preferred. Mandatory. A requirement.

You could feel the breeze as we begin the warmer time of the year. Flowers blooming, baby birds learning the tunes of their being, and Appa shedding. I can’t help but breathe in and out as I let the changing of the seasons cleanse me.

Toph speaks first. “Were they like that when you joined?”

I briefly think about what I’d been up to since I met them. Aang shared how he learned he was the Avatar before going in the ice. I told them where I’m really from and what I can do, something I’d never done with anyone outside of Zuko. I ran into Zuko at the Northern Water Tribe, and he kicked me in the ribs and caused a rift between Sokka and I. Over it. Unfortunately, Aang met Azula. And now I’m here. Walking away from it all with a child I met over a week ago.

I’m also just a stranger she met a week ago, so at least it goes both ways.

“I’m not sure.” Which was true. Was it Aang’s crankiness from the sleep deprivation or did the harsh words have some truth behind them? He could’ve been defending Appa. Still. I couldn’t help but let it burn.

As we continue our walk in silence agreement with each other, she stops her movements. Her pause halts my footsteps as I watch her use her senses. She confirms any suspicion and stomps her foot down in the direction of a boulder that’s clearly hiding something behind it. A line forms as rock bends toward the culprit like a lop-eared rabbit digging underground. Suddenly, I hear a thud and a groan.

Both of us quickly make our way to investigate and we’re confronted with an old man lying on his stomach, rubbing his lower back from Toph’s damage.

“That really hurt my bottom.” The familiar voice hits my ears—It can only be one person.

Iroh.

He grunts as he stands up on his two feet to face us. The old General’s not wearing any of the classic royal clothing he wore the last time I saw him. The moss-colored robe contrasts the memories of crimson I have. But most of all, he has cut off his ponytail.

The rumors are true, then. Azula was in fact not lying to me. Zuko abandoned his post, and she’s most likely tasked with catching him. Somewhere along the lines our paths crossed and the big metal machine that’s been chasing us no longer remains a mystery.

The dots connecting cause a smile to escape me. It always comes back to him, doesn’t it? In some way, in some form, his presence in my life is inescapable. Almost as if the universe is pushing us together, but I don’t know why. Am I stuck with having to figure that part out too?

“Y/N.” Iroh greets me. “Who is your friend?”

“Who are you?” She asks, he’s the intruder—not the other way around.

Everything in me would like to run in the other direction, but I remember Iroh protecting the moon spirit over the Fire Nation. He can be trusted, I believe. “It’s okay, Toph. Iroh is an old friend.”

He feigns offense that’s only obvious to Toph. “I’m not that old.”

“No!” I’m immediately wary of my next words. Even after all these years, I wouldn’t disrespect a General. It was instilled in me from the moment my father found out I could speak. “I meant like. I know him.” Nervously, I laugh and at my expense, the young earth-bender can trust this old man we bumped into in the forest.

☆

“Here is your tea.” The three of us are sitting around a small fire warming up a tea pot. Three handle-less cups are placed and ready to be filled. Iroh grabs the kettle, and I watch as he gracefully pours us our share of tea. “You’ve separated from your group?” Politely, he breaks the quiet.

Toph remains silent and the responsibility of answering the question falls on me. “We… got into a disagreement. To say the least.” I take a sip from the wooden cup, and it tastes as good as springtime feels.

He couldn’t help but question the lack of supervision in attendance. “Aren’t you a little too young to be traveling alone?”

“Aren’t you a little too old?” This wins Toph a laugh from the former General.

“Perhaps I am.” His humble reply softens the cloud looming on top of us. It seemed to calm us down: the tea and the view of the endless landscape. Tall trees with mountains in the distance. The sun beginning to rise over the east casting the skies with lilac and blush pink.

The young earth-bender goes on. “I know—I look like I can’t handle being by myself.”

This prompts a shared glance between Iroh and I, a secret conversation to affirm if this was what the fight was about. I tilt my head a bit to the left to say yes. He understands.

“I wasn’t thinking that.” Solemnly, he replies.

All day, Toph had spent defending herself against Katara so much that it had cast a lens over the conversation. Immediately, she’s defensive. A true earth-bender, mighty and as stubborn as they come. She needed to be if she was to survive this world. “You wouldn’t even let me pour my own cup of tea.” She argues.

Iroh’s earnest intentions paint his face. “I did it because I wanted to, nothing else.” One hand holding his warm tea and the other over his chest.

“People always assume I can’t take care of myself. But I do it and I do it by myself.” She states, confident as ever.

“You sound like my nephew.” The mention of him causes my heart to drop. I can’t tell if it’s racing or resting at the pit of my stomach. “He thinks you need to always do things on your own without anyone’s support.” I keep my eyes glued to the ground praying Iroh isn’t looking at me.

I’ve managed to keep him away from my thoughts when the sun shines. Training, hunting, gathering, and constantly moving place to place keeps me distracted. Sokka helps too. But when the light goes away and the moon comes up, he comes and visits me in my dreams.

When I’m dreaming, my heart can’t feel the difference between reality and fiction. The yearning fights to come out of my body in my sleep. I wake up feeling the ache of missing him in my bones.

And the dream itself is always the same. I find myself with our current selves, gone rogue from the Fire Nation, but we’re not fighting. We are walking side-by-side in some earth town, neither of us wearing our home colors. He’s smiling and we’re laughing. The conversation I can never make out, but it gives me what I need: a false replica of what we used to be and how I used to feel. At this point I can feel tears wanting to escape my eyes, both in my dream and in real life.

I wake up with the sun softly kissing the sky purple and the cycle begins again.

It wasn’t realistic, but I had been hoping the Northern Water Tribe would be it. I’d never see him again.

Iroh continues. “There is nothing wrong with letting people help you, you know.” Toph’s shoulders drop as she begins to calm down from a two-day fight. The mention of Zuko doing nothing to her, she would have no way of knowing who he is.

The question I never thought I’d ask rests at my tongue. I struggle to say it out loud in proximity to other people where someone might hear me. “Where is… Zuko?”

In honor of the shared truths, Iroh confides in us. “I’ve been tracking him.”

“Is he lost?” Toph asks.

“Sort of.” I put the cup down, wanting to stick to every word. “His life has recently changed and he’s going through very difficult things. He doesn’t know who he is, and he went away to figure it out. By himself.”

It’s almost hard to buy: Zuko all alone out there. He’s never needed to feed himself one day in his entire life, he’s always had people who would remember and do it for him. What would he do? Wander around without speaking to anyone? No, he’ll meet someone and maybe they can teach him something.

From what his uncle is telling me, he’s going to need it.

Zuko.

Changing from empathetic to merciless to empathetic again?

“Now, you’re following him.” Toph’s speaks for both of us.

Iroh sighs. “He doesn’t want to be around anyone right now. But if he needs me, I’ll be there.”

The last three years at sea must have shown Iroh something about Zuko that’s worth protecting. He’s looking past the space his nephew has put between himself and everyone else.

“He’s very lucky.” The young earth-bender comforts the old man with her words. “Even if he doesn’t know it.”

By now, the argument with Katara seemed so little. Aang’s words were fading in the distance. The metal doom machine chasing it remained large and now that I knew it was Azula, I had to get back to tell them.

Toph stands and I take this as the ending cue to our impromptu tea stop. “Thank you.” She tells him.

“My pleasure. Sharing tea and bottled-up emotions are one of life’s gifts.”

“I meant for what you said. It helped with my… disagreement from before.” Toph hooks her bag over her shoulder and motions for me to follow her. I’m on my feet with nothing but my swords with me.

Iroh has always been as wise as a winged lemur. He knows what to say and when to say it. Hopefully, one of these days it can get through to his nephew.

“Thanks, Iroh.” I don’t tell him for what specifically, but I think he knows. The small update on my old friend to let me know he’s safe. What’s going through Zuko’s head would have to be something I ask him personally about.

Before we begin our journey back, Toph leaves Iroh with some wisdom of her own. “Maybe you should tell your nephew that you need him, too.”

☆

The old town is desolate, dry, and arid. It’s a single strip with abandoned buildings scattered all around. There seems to be no civilians around. It’s perfect for Azula.

The three of us, Toph, Iroh, and I found our way to this empty shell of a village. Toph sensed multiple people with different directions depending on who you want to find. We’ve decided she’ll go look for Sokka and Katara and I’ll go with Iroh to find the royal siblings. “You’ll be fine by yourself?” I double-check with her before going.

“Do you even have to ask?” She gloats. “There!” Toph points us in the general area we need to go toward, and we go our separate ways, better adjusted than before to fight this fight.

As the old man and I step closer and closer to one of the empty wooden homes, we find Zuko passed out on the ground. We slightly jog to him, reaching him before Azula distracts us.

His ponytail is gone too and he’s already grown some hair back. I’ve never seen him like this, I can’t take my eyes away. Zuko looks as if he is sleeping and if I squint, I can see my friend and not just his rage.

Iroh stands over his nephew as he wakes up. I wonder what he’ll first see, me or his uncle.

“Y/N?” He grunts. Whoever knocked him out must’ve did it good.

“Get up.” Iroh sternly tells him, almost like an order. He’s not going to let him go down now.

The old General holds his hand out for Zuko to grab onto and the prince gets up on his feet.

Without a second thought, my body reacts first to being in close proximity with him once again. I get into my fight stance, unsure of his next moves. Our eyes meet and I make sure there is no sign of nostalgia in my glare. I’m angry. “Don’t wanna fight?” I tell him.

He doesn’t get in a defense position. Zuko just stands there, processing the consequences of his actions. “No.”

“You did the last time I saw you.” I make sure to add every drop of bitterness in my words.

“That was—” He clears his throat and holds his hands up, “Look, remember what we said when we were younger?”

Where is he going with this? “I’m not following.”

Clear as day, he states. “Fine isn’t fine.”

“Azula always lies.” I finish for him. When we were younger, we made up a quick phrase to help us with his younger sister’s alarming behavior. Well, to help him with her. Zuko wants to believe his family, he wants to give them a chance no matter how much they lie to him or hurt him. In the Fire Nation, a trait like this can only be used against you.

It seemed like a childhood rhyme you forget about, but I guess he didn’t. And now, it’s come in handy. A quick way to explain our current battle.

“We can’t let her get him.” He pleads.

“So, you can?”

“I don’t know.” It was the first indication of a glitch in his unwavering loyalty toward his father. Not a yes, not a no.

He’s finding himself. Iroh’s words run through my mind. He’s choosing patience when it comes to Zuko and for now, just now, I have no reason to doubt it. We must stop Azula. Even if he tried something, I don’t think Iroh would let him. And that’s enough to calm me down.

I lower my hands in surrender and nod. “Fine.”

Zuko’s eyes are digging into mine, desperately trying to find me but I’m not letting him.

I practice this all the time—in my dreams. Zuko and I are on the same side once again, but the sun is glaring at me and I know I where I am. I know our past means nothing here.

This is reality, where me and him aren’t friends anymore.

tag list: @camilleverreault @staygoldsquatchling02 @yunloyal @lily-ann-b <3333

#atla #aang #avatar #avatar the last airbender #atla zuko #fire lord zuko #prince zuko #sokka x reader #zuko #prince zuko x oc #atla zuko x reader #prince zuko x reader #zuko x reader #toph x reader #toph beifong #atla toph #zuko fanfic #atla fanfic #sokka fanfic

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hayatheauthor · 2 years ago

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How To Write POC Characters Without Seeming Racist

Writing about a community you don’t come from can be hard. A lack of research or basic knowledge can often lead authors to wrongly represent or describe characters who belong to that community. But this is a simple mistake that can be reversed with a little bit of guidance and an open mind.

If you’re a non-POC writer looking to accurately describe your POC characters without coming off as racist, here are some tips for you! From a POC YA fantasy author.

Would You Describe Your Character Similarly If They Were White?

This tip is honestly a very basic technique that is often overlooked when discussing ways to combat racist descriptions in literature. The tip is simple: if you wouldn’t describe your character that way if they were non-POC, then don’t use that description.

Think of every time you described your POC character’s physical features. Did you ever feel like you ‘had to’ write a certain description because your character was POC? Are your descriptions of your non-POC characters drastically different from that of your POC ones?

If your answer to these questions were yes, then it’s very likely that your POC descriptions will come off as racist to your readers.

I would recommend crawling through your manuscript and comparing the way you describe your non-POC characters to the way you describe your POC ones. More specifically, compare how you described your characters the first time they were mentioned in the book. The goal is to compare the two descriptions and figure out any differences between them, why these differences are present, and whether they exist due to a racist eye.

Word Choice

An author’s word choice when describing their POC character is often a direct reflection of their perception of that community. When writing a POC character, it is important to consider what your character really looks like. This goes beyond their hair type or skin colour.

Take a look to analyse your character’s physical attributes and come up with a list of words you could use when describing them. This can be beneficial in the long run when you need a quick adjective to describe said character during a scene.

How To Describe POC Features

Non-POC authors often don’t realise how discriminatory or redundant their descriptions of POC characters can be. They tend to water down their character’s features to the colour or visual depiction of it rather than actually describing those features.

Saying your character has tan skin is an effective way to describe your character’s appearance, but it can come off as a cop-out when compared to detailed descriptions of your non-POC character’s fair skin dotted with light freckles. An easy way to better your descriptions is by using creative descriptions.

Here is an expert from my WIP, The Traitor’s Throne, that describes one of the many POC characters:

Her grandmother’s briefings of the royal guards failed her when Amaya needed them most, for try as she might, Amaya couldn’t recall anything to help her recognise the green-eyed man with a face like an acorn, both in shape and shade.

I could have easily said he was tan skinned and left it at that, but the acorn analogy seems more alluring and helps the reader gain insight on the character’s features instead of their skin tone.

When using creative descriptions, consider using words and phrases that tie into your character’s personality. A scary antagonist would have long black hair dark as night that curtained their pale face, a cute child could have golden skin that glowed under the sunlight.

Refrain From Using The Word Exotic!

The word exotic is possibly the worst thing you could use when describing a POC character.

The Oxford dictionary describes exotic as ‘from or in another country, especially a tropical one; seeming exciting and unusual because it is connected with foreign countries’. Thus, this adjective would make no sense if your book takes place in a POC setting or is written from another POC’s perspective.

Exotic is also often overused by non-POC writers and is seen as a lazy copout by many.

Rather than describing your character as exotic, consider actually describing their features. Ask yourself why you chose to use exotic in the first place. Maybe they have wild curls unlike anything your character has ever seen, or their fair skin is so different from the tan skin your character is used to.

Narrow down the reasons and then take the time to redescribe your character. This will not only help you ensure you don’t come off as racist but will also paint a clear picture for your readers.

Are you facing a hard time trying to pick the right words for your POC characters? Consider checking out this blog by writing with colour on Tumblr that details how to describe skin colour. Their tips can also be applied to other aspects of your character’s features.

Avoid The Stereotypes

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sighed in annoyance every time I come across a tan-skinned South Indian character in literature who is kind and smart and has long dark brown hair.

Yes, there are many Indians who look like that. But India is a diverse country known for its various cultures and people, and it’s unfortunate to see authors completely overlook the rest of our country in an effort to pertain to their stereotypes.

The same can be said for many other POCs, such as East Asians who are always described as thin and dainty with sharp features and minds, or Middle Easterns and Africans who are extroverted, excitable and often portrayed as violent.

Non-POCs often find racial stereotypes amusing, but they are really just frustrating and show us how uninformed non-POCs are when it comes to our cultures and countries.

The next time you draft up your POC character’s appearance and personality, take the time to consider why you chose to make them this way, and whether their personality is really a reflection of your limited insight into that character’s culture.

Don’t Over Describe

It’s important to paint a clear description of your characters, but it’s just as important to remember when your descriptions are redundant. Overdescribing POC characters is the biggest mistake you can make when writing a POC. As mentioned at the start of this blog, it’s important to consider whether or not you would describe your character that way if they were non-POC.

For example, if I were writing a fight scene between the antagonist and an African character, I would likely use lines like ‘their dreadlocks slapped against the back of their neck as they raced away from the villain’ or ‘the blood staining their hands ran down their russet arms as they tightened their grip around the antagonist’s neck’.

These are simple yet effective descriptions that help paint a clear image of the character without ruining the reader’s immersion.

When writing POC characters, it’s important to remember that they are just like every other character you are writing. They are human. And their race or physical attributes shouldn’t change the way you describe your characters.

I hope this blog on how to write POC characters without seeming racist will help you in your writing journey. Be sure to comment any tips of your own to help your fellow authors prosper, and subscribe to my email list for new blog updates every Monday and Thursday.

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks?

Are you an author looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Or do you want to learn about how to get a literary agent, get published and properly market your book? Consider checking out the rest of my blog where I post writing and marketing tools for authors every Monday and Thursday.

Want to learn more about me and my writing journey? Visit my social media pages under the handle @hayatheauthor where I post content about my WIP The Traitor’s Throne and life as a teenage author.

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unhinged-summer-fun · 2 months ago

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common grounds (oshamir) - chapter 20

Pairing: Osha Aniseya x Qimir "The Stranger"

A/N: if yall could see the dead look in my eyes rn lmfao

series masterlist

chapter 20: where there's smoke...

The place Idise chose was outside the city: one of those small, never-closed dives that lined the northern highway at the halfway points between cities. When Osha arrived a little before sunset, she couldn’t quite recognize anybody in the booths because of the late afternoon glare through the windows.

“Over here,” Idise’s voice said, guiding her in the opposite of the direction she was looking.

Idise’s shiner had faded to almost nothing, just the shadowy lines of damaged blood vessels spidering around her orbital socket. Osha was no stranger to bruised faces; they often looked worse the closer they were to healing completely. Her body language was neutral—tense, but open. She kept her hands where Osha could see them, despite this not being that dire in the first place. She could only muster a sliver of guilt for sizing up Idise how she would another fighter in the ring.

Osha slid into the booth across from her, but they didn’t speak for two entire minutes until a waitress came by. They broke the staring contest by awkwardly ordering coffees, ice waters, and—

“A big plate of fries, too. Thanks.”

It was hard to imagine Idise eating junk food. Let alone ‘babbling,’ how Qimir described her doing. She noticed Osha’s mild incredulity and shrugged.

“Typically, the full moon is my cheat day, but 92% waxing gibbous will do.”

At the ridiculousness, Osha cut to the chase. “Did Vernestra want you following… me?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Idise said, but didn’t seem to hold it against her. “I’m not gonna take the job, but I know there are definitely people that would, if that tells you anything.”

That could have meant any number of things: a knock on her peers, implications to the contract’s payout, or just a hard view of how good Vernestra was at convincing others.

Osha sighed. “So I’m going to be followed.”

“You are,” Idise hummed. She sipped her coffee, but quickly withdrew and hissed at the scorching temperature. Osha watched in captive astonishment as Idise scoped a few ice cubes from her water cup into the mug with her fingers. She continued on as if she hadn’t just done something a little insane. “Do you know why you’re going to be followed?” She asked it with the confidence of someone who already knew the answer to their question.

Osha looked down at the milky brown (ice-free) surface of her coffee. “I’m guessing it’s because I’m in about the same position that Qimir was in—a potential loose end that leads to dynamite.”

“Nothing potential about it, Osha. Whether you’ve realized it or not, Vernestra has only let you untether yourself to the Temple this far because she allowed and encouraged it.”

“What do you mean?”

Idise’s jaw flexed a little, a displeased pinch to her features. “It’s been her M.O. for a long time. She burns someone, then lets them run—lets the leash go slack long enough for them to want to come back under her thumb. All her bishops and pawns and knights at the Temple have been reeled in just the same way, believing their nooses to be lifelines.”

“I’ve—heard some people say the Temple is all they have.” Osha had to play her cards right. Following her conversation with Qimir that morning, her opinion on Idise hadn’t been so much changed as it had become open to change. This meeting would determine lots of things, which was one of the reasons for the clandestine sneaking-around-and-going-through-his-phone.

Idise nodded, impervious to Osha’s suspicious nature. “That sounds right. I didn’t get the chance to talk to many people in the Temple before I flipped ‘em the bird. They were all tight-lipped regardless. That’s the noose, I suppose.”

She really likes metaphors, huh.

Osha sat in her discomfort, teetering between showing her hand and seeking more assurances before doing so. “If Vernestra is so certain I’m going to allow myself to get reeled back in, why bother hiring you to follow me?”

“Because she’s not certain.” Idise added more ice to her coffee before explaining. “I think, in some fucked-up way, that after everything she did to Q, she actually thought he’d come back begging. From how he tells it, he very briefly did—and that made things complicated for several legal reasons. Regardless, he snapped back outside her periphery and hired me to widen her net. She didn’t want him completely gone, that would be an unacceptable concession of control, but she didn’t want him near, either. Q is a fucking natural disaster. She can’t ignore him, but she also can’t invite him to her door. In the beginning, she was paranoid that he’d do something, so I consulted with her about hidden cameras, recording equipment, spy devices.

“But that’s not what you asked. You asked why she was concerned about you. I guarantee she knows you know something, but she doesn’t know exactly what that is, and if she strikes at you she runs the risk of admitting to the whole damn scheme just to see if you know. How much do you know about the cover-up?”

Osha startled at the sudden shift in attention. Idise was intense, that much was true. But she also seemed to know what she was talking about. “Well, I—it feels like I should know a lot, considering how close to it I am—” How close to Qimir I am. “—but it just keeps… I don’t know.”

“Growing bigger and bigger?” Idise suggested.

“I guess, yeah.”

“Well, you’d be right. For as many dead ends we hit trying to chase down leads, we hit just about as many doors that opened into more mazes of mystery.” Idise, c’mon, the metaphors.

“That’s more how I feel,” Osha sighed. “A lot’s happened recently, I don’t know how to keep track of it all.”

“Write it down,” Idise said simply. She reached into her leather jacket and started dumping an absurd amount of things onto the vinyl table. Keys. Wallet. Phone. Switchblade. Taser. Pen. Another switchblade. “Here we go.” She pushed a pocket notebook over to her. “There might be a shopping list in there, but it should be mostly blank for you. Write what you see, what you hear, when you learn things. Eventually, things start to make sense. It’s why people do the red-yarn corkboard thing.”

It was surprisingly genuine advice, and not what Osha expected to hear. She thanked Idise for the notebook and considered her misconceptions. Going into this meeting, she had been prepared for Idise to grill her on what she knew, regardless of her rejection of Vernestra’s contract. There was something in the way she didn’t ask those things that implied this meeting was Osha’s to run, not hers. It felt very… respectful.

Speaking of respect. Speaking of misconceptions.

“I’m sorry for how I spoke to you in the gym. You’re right; I was running on false assumptions and limited information. It wasn’t fair to speak to you like that.”

This wasn’t what Idise was expecting to hear. She tilted her head to the side, so similar to how Qimir would do it that it made Osha’s heart ache. Fate brought us together, and now fate won’t let us part.

Inexorable. That was Idise and himself. Osha often felt that way about Mae, growing up—that they were one person beneath the skin. She didn’t imagine many people had the chance to know another person like that. But Idise and Qimir were similar enough that Osha felt comfortable calling them twins in the privacy of her thoughts.

Idise brought her back to the conversation with a light laugh. “You are polite. I thought they were all just fucking with me.”

“Huh?” Osha wasn’t sure if she should have been offended or not.

“Medora and Kana—I wanted to get the lowdown on you—” She quickly hastened to qualify, “For my own personal interests.”

Sure.

“They told me you were well-mannered, as polite as you are impolite when you spar.”

“Well, I don’t know about all that…” Osha grumbled, bashful all of a sudden.

“You’re a talented fighter. Skill recognizes skill,” she said, gesturing first to herself, and then Osha.

“Thank you,” she said haltingly. “That’s kind of you to say.” At the smirk peeking over Idise’s coffee cup, she rolled her eyes—she was proving Idise’s point about her manners.

I have got to get ruder.

The fries came, a welcome interlude to their conversation. They shared the plate, talking aimlessly about their favorite cheat-day meals until Idise steered them back on course.

“I’m guessing you didn’t want to meet just to ask if I was following you.”

Osha shook her head. “I wanted to ask you about the case you were building against Vernestra, against the Temple. How far did you get before he called it off?”

It was striking how quickly Idise’s eyes sharpened, and her demeanor shifted from semi-relaxed to professional private investigator mode. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific about what you want to know,” she said, not outright suspicious but wary.

“I want to know if it could work. If you had what you need.”

“What I need,” she repeated, half scoffing the words. “What I need is a strong prosecutor who won’t be bullied by Rick Lakshay in trial court, what I need is tangible evidence to prove the wrongdoing was actually wrongdone, what I need are witnesses who also won’t cave to the threats Lakshay would make against them.”

Osha hadn’t met the man more than once, but had seen Rick Lakshay at the Temple before. Outside of being a member, he was constantly in and out of Vernestra’s office, which always befuddled her. Why would Vernestra want her lawyer over all the time? Sol had simply instructed her to be polite to him, but the cold look Lakshay gave Osha at eleven years old withered her bravery. She had avoided him whenever he came in since.

Osha was about to speak, but Idise held up a hand. “Hypothetically. I’m not committing to anything, or saying anything, only alleging it to you. Heading back down that road has risks, so whatever you’re going to tell me has a high bar to meet.”

I never told Idise the real reason why.

Then Osha didn’t have to tell her, either.

“Hypothetically,” Osha started, “if we had those things—the lawyer, the evidence, the testimonies… what’s the scope we stop at? Vernestra? The Temple? More?”

Idise frowned. “That was always a subject we argued about til we were blue in the face. When does vengeance become justice?”

Osha considered that.

It’s... not healthy to let myself think about returning to that mindset again.

It was eating me up—scraping me raw.

One half seeking to do no harm, one half only seeking harm.

“It’s difficult to look at it objectively, when you’re in the shit,” Idise said, when Osha’s consternation showed. “Objective fact is the only thing that matters to the court. You asked what we had. We had nothing. We had my testimony about the stalking, Qimir’s testimony about the abuse but not the assault, Paul’s testimony about the malicious neglect and otherwise, a lead on a handful of sealed juvenile records we’d only access through discovery, and a scrap of paper that said one of the trainers signed in Qimir at the clinic.”

“That’s not nothing.”

“It’s essentially nothing. And none of those things, no matter how you looked at it, could support a civil suit, let alone a criminal case. We’re pretty much past the statute of limitations for felony child abuse and neglect—which most of this hinges on. Next summer, we’ll never have a case even with all the evidence in the world. We don’t have the benefit of time, here. The longer we wait, the riskier it is to squeeze any kind of justice out of this.”

That was news to Osha. She wasn’t even aware something like that existed—perhaps it was lucky that she wasn’t.

“But Qimir’s testimony is watery at best. He doesn’t talk about the assault, not to anybody. He doesn’t even talk to me about it, never had, not in fourteen years.”

That struck Osha as odd, considering all that Qimir had shared with her about it. She didn’t have the full story, not yet, but she had quite a lot more of it than it seemed Idise had.

“It sounds like he won’t testify about the actual assault the case hinges on.” She’d heard of cases where little more than testimony was able to convict someone.

“He didn’t want to retraumatize himself, I think,” Idise said, her demeanor taking on a sad shine.

That was the last thing he wanted, and then Mae had to go and—

I asked him if he remembered what it was like at the Temple.

Osha could only nod, commiserating. “That’s not to mention the NDA shit-show. Oh, shit. Wait.” Osha pulled out the (still unsigned) employee evaluation from her pocket, adding it to the table of fries and Idise’s pocket goodies. “Thanks for the advice that day,” she said.

Idise fell upon the document with trenchant focus. Her lips moved a little as she peered at the fine text beneath the rest of the employee evaluation, then she looked back up at Osha. “This can’t be all you have.”

Osha hid her excitement as she opened her phone to the picture she’d taken of the two articles about Qimir in the Temple: the Junior Championships clipping and the Padawan Program article. Idise cradled the phone in her hands like it was a precious gem, withholding her remarks until she’d finished reading, finished processing what she’d seen.

When she had, she looked up with an expression of disbelief. How did you find all this?

“I came upon the articles completely by accident. Luck, I guess. As for the document, I had some advice telling me not to sign anything.”

Idise was very clearly trying to contain her excitement over what the documents could mean. “This is… a start.”

Okay, cards on the table.

“I also have two statements from people in the Temple who were coerced into signing the NDAs.”

Idise met her gaze. And? her dark eyes asked.

“One was coerced into signing an NDA, but the other was witness to the—assault.” It felt clunky and awful to regard the injury as such, but she had to face the facts: whoever had injured him was a child abuser, and had assaulted him to the point of permanent injury.

Idise covered her mouth with her fingers, setting down Osha’s phone and gingerly pushing it back across the table. For a moment, Osha interpreted it as a rejection, a quiet refusal of the call. Osha held her breath while Idise considered the page again.

“We…” She abruptly shook her head. “I need to make a few calls. Don’t go anywhere.”

She stood from the booth in a breeze of sandalwood perfume, snatching up her phone before she left. Osha could only watch as she stepped into the parking lot and disappeared around the corner.

“More coffee, hun? She coming back?”

I hope so. “Yeah, thanks.”

Twenty minutes (and half a milkshake) later, Idise returned. Snow dusted her hair, but she shook it off as she slid into the booth as casually as if she’d only gone to the restroom. She looked a lot more relaxed than when she’d left, but her energy felt… wired.

“You want the rest of thi—okay.” Osha watched Idise empty the rest of the malt cup that came with her milkshake without preamble. “You’re welcome,” she grumbled.

Idise smiled at her. “So.”

“So…?” Osha was confused.

“Looks like we’re getting the gang back together. Are you in?”

“Yes.”

The bingo hall was startlingly normal compared to the tempest of her thoughts. She had just enough time after meeting with Idise to shower and get ready before Qimir picked her up. Between the buzzing excitement from the new developments in her life and the serious need to keep them secret, she felt like a live wire.

Qimir shut it down the first time, though. Shouldn’t we bring him back in? Idise asked her.

He told me that being in that retributory headspace wasn’t healthy for him. There’s a chance this still might not be enough, and I don’t want to ask him to open up that part of him unless absolutely necessary.

The matter wasn’t settled, but it was a solid enough reason to keep this from Qimir—for now. She had every intention of telling him once she knew they could focus on objective, undisputed evidence and a clear path to justice.

Well. Clear-er.

“Bazil!” Qimir called, his left hand waving to him and his right locked with Osha’s.

Bazil stood among a group of other old, similarly mustached men. He turned when Qimir called his name and exclaimed in delight. Osha recognized a few words of Tynnan here and there, good and you.

Osha recognized Yord’s uncle Odu, who ran the grocery store a few blocks from the Temple. Her blood went cold as ice as the man alighted on Qimir, face going slack while Qimir’s hand tensed against hers.

The man said something—a name?—in Tynnan that made Qimir almost sway on the spot upon hearing it. He nodded, swallowing roughly a few times. Then he quickly bowed his head—a Tynnan sign of respect. Osha felt trapped in her skin, unable to move. Did they know each other? Do we have to go?

Osha had met Odu a few times when he visited the cafe to see his nephew, smiling widely as he spoke to Yord in Tynnan over the counter. Where Yord was willowy, towering strength, reserved and blunt, Odu was short and squat, cheerful and—oh, hugging? They’re hugging?—affectionate.

He’d let go of her hand when Odu yanked Qimir into an embrace. It left Osha feeling unmoored and confused (a common feeling these days). Bazil sidled up beside her, patting her arm and pointing to a table where she could buy the bingo cards. He handed her a five-dollar bill and pointed again.

“Oh, I can get my own—” she said, eyes flicking back and forth from Qimir—still hugging—to Bazil.

He gave a disapproving grunt, shaking his head and refusing to let Osha give back the money. She laughed and nodded her acceptance. “Okay,” she laughed. Haltingly, she tried to say thank you in his language, like Qimir had taught her. Bazil lit up like a hundred stage lights.

“Osha,” Qimir finally said, drawing her attention back. His hand found the small of her back, warm and affectionate. She hadn’t expected him to be like this, so… well, touchy.

“Yeah?” she said.

“This is Odu. Do you remember when I told you I learned Tynnan from somebody who worked at the FDO? This is him.”

Osha was startled at the new information. Odu was such a sweet, caring man—she instantly believed he could teach a young orphan conversational Tynnan. “That’s—it’s so nice to—well, I didn’t know that,” Osha fumbled.

Odu spoke slowly and clearly. “Yord is my nephew.”

“Ah,” Qimir nodded. “Your coworker.” His eyes were full of mischief. The one who breaks the espresso machine, he didn’t add.

“Yeah. Odu has come by for years. The cafe couldn’t run without him; emergency supply runs and all.”

Qimir nodded sagely. “I made a few grocery runs to his store quite a few times as well,” he commented. She couldn’t even gawp at that information before he was speaking in rapid-fire Tynnan again, now to Odu and the rest of the group, and when she caught her own name, she realized he was introducing her. How did he present me? His girlfriend? His neighbor? His gym buddy?

Bazil answered that question when he exclaimed, “Girlfriend!” with delight.

It was difficult to keep up with everything. The whirlwind of chittering syllables and drawn-out vowel sounds felt like a deep river with a strong current she could hardly float in, let alone swim across. Qimir murmured translations to her as fast as he could, but Tynnan expressed even complex concepts and long expressions in a fraction of the time than she would have been able to. They got their cards and sat with the group.

Odu sat across from Osha at the table, his dauber capped but nearby. While the others talked about—well, while they talked, Odu peered curiously at her. “Sol?” he asked.

She could feel Qimir paying attention to her, even as he was engaged in other conversation, so she spoke carefully. “Yes, Sol’s my dad.”

“Hm.” Odu nodded to himself, not sharing whatever conclusion he’d come to from her answer. She didn’t want to read too much into it, but she was fairly certain he looked troubled.

“Yeah, just don’t tell Sol I’m dating, he’ll flip his lid,” Osha said to Bazil, only half-joking.

“I tell him nothing,” he harrumphed, put out at the very suggestion.

“Oh, c’mon, haven’t you told him whenever we had friends over?” How else would Sol have been able to come down so quickly and interrogate them?

“Nothing!” Bazil declared, holding his bingo dauber aloft. She tried to laugh it off, but for some reason the exchange made her a bit uneasy.

The old men were intent on teaching her Tynnan between bingo rounds. It made her laugh, whenever they tried to flirt with her—and despite his reaction to Kana’s cigarettes the other day, Qimir took the teasing with grace, rolling his eyes and putting an arm around her shoulders. Mine, the move said.

Osha was only paying half attention to the game itself, enjoying her new friends and her boyfriend’s hand idly drawing shapes into her shoulder. Things were kind of slow-going due to the frequent interruptions from the power going out and returning several times through the evening. Qimir always snuck a kiss when the lights were out, a game unfolding between them.

“Osha,” Qimir said, breaking her happy, zoned-out dream state.

“Yeah?” she asked, turning to face him. Their faces were so close, inches away. Even in these fluorescent lights, he was handsome. Unfair. It was just not fucking fair that he was so pretty.

I’ve found the one thing he’s not fair about, Osha thought with amusement.

Her breath caught in her throat as he leaned in, and she thought for a moment that he was going to—

“You’ve had double-bingo for a few minutes.”

Oh.

Hold on, she had what?

His smile curled up like a love letter in a roaring hearth, destructive, warm, and just for her.

“BINGO!” Osha shouted, right in Qimir’s face. “DOUBLE-BINGO!”

He threw his head back to laugh as she waved her card in the air, underscored by the cheers of the old Tynnan men at the table around them.

Winning in the ring always felt like an expectation. Winning spars, winning mock matches, even winning at workouts. Much of that ethos echoed in other things, like school and friendships. Osha could tell when a conversation was tilting towards defeat on her end and would often leave before she could be left. The familiar devastation of losing was always a point of shame for her. It reflected personal failure, like she couldn’t detach herself from the pass-fail binary that dictated her worth as a person.

Osha had felt like a winner from the moment she sat down in that bingo hall. The $200 was just a bonus. She fanned herself with the bills the entire way out to the parking lot. As Qimir said goodbyes, a tug on her sleeve brought her attention away from the group. Odu’s demeanor was no longer jocular and smiling; his deep green eyes glinted with something too sober for the merriment just a few feet away. “Sol.”

Osha’s stomach dropped. “What about Sol?”

“Bad man. I’m sorry.”

He patted her shoulder and hobbled away, leaving her frozen in place until Qimir’s touch pulled her from it.

“Everything alright?”

Bad man. I’m sorry.

“Y-yeah,” Osha said. “I was just saying goodbye to Odu.”

He smiled, temporarily oblivious to her stricken state. “It was really nice to see him again.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her temple. They started walking to his car. “I don’t know why I stayed away so long. He was always so kind to me—first at the FDO and then when I would come by the grocery store.”

She smiled and leaned into him—for warmth or support, she didn’t know.

“I’ve been looking forward to kicking your ass all week!”

It was the night of the full moon—a few hours to Dance Night. The fight list had come out again—and Osha’s name was not on it. Armed with the assurance that this wasn’t taboo (or, colloquially, a Lance Situation), they were free to spar at Unknown Planet.

They hadn’t worked out together since he’d returned from Khofar; they were too busy with her birthday—and other fun things. But now they were back in the gym, pulling a double-header with the mantra of work hard, play hard, strengthening their enthusiasm.

Perhaps too much enthusiasm.

The jab (though true) had Qimir going stock-still before turning his head over his shoulder. “Is that right?” he said, voice deceptively light and playful. It made her heart drop, but her insides started to burn at all the possible applications of that exact voice, in much different contexts.

But first.

“Mhm. Gonna kick your ass.” Osha bounced on the balls of her feet, though she knew better—she wanted him to underestimate her, see her like a bright-eyed rookie destined to become a black-eyed loser.

He pointed one long, slender finger down at the spot before him. “Why don’t you come over here and say that?” he taunted.

Oh fuck. Osha swallowed, bouncing a half-step backward instead. What was it he’d told her long ago? You’re rattling a bit close to the sun?

“No.” Osha almost froze at the ice in his voice, the ice that came from deep glaciers frozen for thousands and thousands of years without ever even knowing about the sun. “C’mere, I wanna hear you talk that talk right here.”

She was lucky there was pretty much nobody in the gym. Anybody sane would have been downstairs, waiting for the bar to open, not wasting their time upstairs like they were. They’d been at it for about an hour, working through calisthenics and kick combinations and, of course, spars.

Is this hot? Is this legally foreplay? Osha thought to herself.

But Qimir still wasn’t crossing the distance. If she wanted to spar, she would have to bring the fight to him—and all her bravado with it.

Damn him. It is hot.

She crossed the mat in two great strides, setting herself up for a leaping kick—

Oof.

Stars danced in her eyes. Hello, ground. When did you get here?

“I’m waiting,” Qimir said, walking around so his feet were just a foot from her head on the mat. He’d barely fucking moved. “What was that again?”

She gritted her teeth. Fucking bastard. With a roar, she bridged back on her shoulders and pivoted with greater momentum to swing her legs around, hoping to swipe at him. He retreated, swift as a fencer, out of range from her kick. She snarled and sprung up, all that make-believe rookie confidence shucked aside for the scrappy fighter beneath.

He had his that’s my girl face on.

She wanted to smack it off of him.

All thoughts turned to fast-twitch muscles and reflexes that knew her better than she knew herself. He went in for a jab—blocked. A kick—dodged, returned to sender. (He wheezed.) More and more hits and attempts to grapple her to the ground, and she deftly avoided them, for the most part.

Fire danced in his eyes whenever she looked away from his body’s bluffs and tells. His breath whistled through his teeth, some high note that made her think, alarm, before she fell back into the fight.

Right hook—duck, jab jab. He shouted, laughing? Yes, that was laughter. Alarm. And then he moved back on the foolish offensive, coming in close to grab at her shirt—disengaged. Another attempt—batted away. A smirk—

Punched.

He wheeled back, going to one knee with a dazed expression that quickly fled his eyes. ALARM. He stood on swaying legs, laughing and coming closer. She almost grabbed him for a takedown throw to the mat, but then her punch-drunk boyfriend kissed her, all sweaty and slick and hot to the touch.

He pulled back again—swaying—ALARM!

“Whoa, whoa, what’s wrong?” she said, helping him stand.

“Just got my bell rung. I’m—” he tried to inhale and wheezed again. Her stomach dropped.

“You’re hurt.” I hurt you.

His mask slammed on, hiding the hurt from his face while his arm still covered the place where she caught him in the ribs. Her despair must have shown enough for him to soften.

“I’m alright, Osha,” he said, strained.

“Quit fucking lying to me,” she hissed. The intensity of it startled the stars from his eyes and left him gaping up at her. “We’re done for the day. C’mon, we gotta get ready anyway.”

Osha felt his eyes on her as she snatched up his towel and his water bottle—any gym rat would follow as if on a leash. She led the way to the Smiley dressing room with utter confidence that he would follow, and he did. She waited for him at the top of the stairs, worried for him as he took each stair carefully, slowly. But she did not reach out a hand to him for help, knowing he wouldn’t just refuse it; he’d resent it.

But they made it to the dressing room, and she pointed to the chair. He went without a word of protest, a complete turnaround from how she’d reacted to his similar gesture downstairs. The authority she seemed to have over him was a heady feeling—a heady high, so he’d described ‘the power of two.’

She immediately realized that she didn’t know what she was doing. She had no medical background and barely had first aid training—mostly for cafe-related injuries. She pulled up the side of his shirt and sort of just… stared at his chest. She looked up to find Qimir staring blankly at a spot on the ground. “Hey,” she said. His jaw flexed. “Hey,” she said again. “Look at me.”

She was certain her hands trembled, but she tipped his chin up so he would look at her. Shock replaced that absent look in his eyes, welcome surprise. The gesture seemed to shake him from his fugue, though. His eyes looked much clearer.

“Where does it hurt?” she asked slowly. His teeth found his lower lip, protesting against giving her the answer. She tamped down her frustration and raised an eyebrow at her. Alright, you wanna play that way. “How’s your back?” she asked. “One to ten.”

He exhaled a huff of amusement. “It’s a five.”

“And what is it normally?”

“A three on the good days.”

A small sorrow slipped through her bloodstream, an ache she felt in every inch of her. “Okay. Does anything feel wrong in your back?”

She dropped her hand so he could move around freely, sitting up straighter and twisting this way and that. He only winced when it pulled at his ribs.

“What was that?” she said, catching the flinch.

“I regret teaching you how to do this,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes.

“Why’s that?” she said.

“Because I like it,” he bit out—like it pissed him off both to feel it and admit it.

He likes it when I play doctor with him.

Osha’s body flushed with heat in a great wave that began and ended in her core. Damn him for talking like that. “Answer my other question.”

“I think… okay, come closer.”

She did.

“Lift up my shirt.”

She did, with enthusiasm.

He propped his elbow up on the back of the chair, bracing himself. “Find the bottom of my ribs, and walk up each one, pressing down on them—like this.” He gently prodded her forearm to show her how, and she nodded.

But she hesitated.

I’m going to hurt you again.

“Osha. I need you to help me,” he said. The words sounded clunky and foreign on his tongue, but honest. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, and you don’t want to hurt me again. I feel the same way about you when we’re up against each other. I need you to do this.”

She really fucking loved him. It was becoming a problem.

He breathed in deeply, slowly, forcing the pain to run its course as she assessed each rib—for bruising or breaks. “Bearable but distracting pain, anywhere from fives to eights, could mean bruised ribs. Extreme pain—your sharp eights, nines, and tens—typically indicates a break. True agony, that.”

“You know from experience?” she asked softly, committed to her task.

“More than most,” he admitted. “The cage is unkind, brawl or otherwise.”

She nodded, thinking about his name on the email he showed her earlier that day. Unkind was certainly a word for it.

They spoke softly, both concentrating on assessing him. He took a deep breath in, coughing once and groaning, but it didn’t sound serious.

“Well, what’s the diagnosis, doctor?” she asked him, smiling softly.

“I think you just kicked my ass—” he said, grinning. “Just like you’ve been wanting to all week.”

“Go get them,” Osha urged. They were at a high-top table in the back of the bar, Osha perched on a stool and Qimir practically caging her into it. “It’s like a fifteen-minute round trip; just go get your shoes.”

He was being stubborn. He’d forgotten to pack shoes for dance night, and stood there in his silly bright-blue gym shoes—that he’d not realized glowed in the dark until now. “I’m fine.”

“If Kana sees you wearing these, he will roast you alive. Go. Get. Your damn. Shoes.”

“No, he’s n—”

“What are thoooooose!” Kana’s voice boomed like a fucking cannon in the bar—practically deafening from a few feet away. The dance music prevented most people from witnessing the spectacle, but upon Kana’s proclamation, about fifteen pairs of eyes now alighted on Qimir’s shoes. His words were echoed by all who saw the shoes, complete with pointed fingers.

“Told you,” Osha laughed. Qimir groaned and pressed his face against her shoulder for a second, before pulling away with a kiss.

“Stick with Kana. Please.” He high-tailed it through the back exit, keys in hand.

Kana gestured for her to follow him, and he led her to an open seat at the bar. This month’s dance night wasn’t as crowded as last month, but then again, the nights were colder, and the roads were treacherous even in the warmest parts of the day.

“What that was all about? Why wouldn’t he just go get the shoes?” Osha laughed, shaking her head.

Kana had the answer. “This crowd is mostly morning-daytime members. He doesn’t know them as well as the evening-nighttime folks.” She wondered, briefly, if Sour Patch was among those assembled.

“So what?”

“He doesn’t want to leave you alone with people he doesn’t know—people he doesn’t trust.”

Such a casual delivery, so nonchalant—like it wasn’t melting her fucking heart like springtime. “Oh.”

Kana slid a cocktail in front of her. “Yeah. Oh.”

As she’d insisted, it only took Qimir fifteen minutes to leave and return (wearing reasonable dancing shoes). He found her quickly, coming up behind her to trap her between his arms against the bar. He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Miss me?”

“Oh, terribly.” She gave him an actual kiss before settling back against his chest. She swore she could feel him purring against her shoulders.

“You two are disgusting. I love it.” Kana set a beer down in front of Qimir. “Thanks for wearing those fuckin’ glowsticks. Made my night. You use those to look for scorpions or something?”

“Fuck you too, Kana,” he said, toasting his brother before taking a drink.

…don’t go ‘round tonight, well it’s bound to take your life: there’s a bad moon on the rise…

“I had no idea this was a dance song.”

“Anything’s a dance song if you dance to it,” Kana pointed out. Qimir shrugged, accepting his logic. The red lights flared around them, and Osha was glad for the mirror behind the bar, giving her a view of Qimir as he continued hugging her from behind.

Osha was happy this intimacy was growing more familiar every day. She never dreamed she’d be a PDA person, but she wanted every single fucking touch he gave her—in public or private. On a tamer note, she also loved knowing they could easily and comfortably drift onto the dancefloor without stopping their conversation. “How’s your ribs?” she asked, setting down her empty glass on the bar.

“Better already.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. She knew he didn’t keep anything more than aspirin in his medicine cabinet.

“Not healed better, just better,” he clarified. Their muscles were still warm from the gym upstairs, so she was sure he’d feel a little sore in the morning.

“What happened to your ribs?” Kana asked, concern in his eyes.

“I—”

“I kicked his ass,” Osha said proudly. Kana groaned.

“Again? This is the second time I haven’t seen it in person.”

“You weren’t missing much,” Qimir grumbled, taking Osha’s hand and dragging her to the floor.

“You’re so grouchy,” she laughed, bringing her arms up and around his neck as they swayed to the jaunty beat.

…looks like we’re in for nasty weather, one eye is taken for an eye…

“We should probably take it a little easy tonight,” Osha suggested. “Since we already pushed it up there.”

He smirked. “When did you get so responsible?”

She remembered the last time he said those words, tucked this close upstairs in the dressing room when all he wanted to do was ravish her against the nearest surface.

The thought stayed with her through the next several songs they danced to. When the lights went purple and blue over the sea of bodies and a new song began to play, Osha found herself falling into the beat like she was made to do it.

Her top tonight was a little dangerous, admittedly. Another loose crop top and jeans, but this time she decided against wearing her bra. The spar had gotten them both so sweaty that she really didn’t want to deal with more sweat and an underwire on the dancefloor. To keep from accidentally flashing anybody in the bar, she moved in smooth, sensual motions, keeping her body (and chest) pressed as close to his as possible.

Her hand pressed flat to his chest, not pushing him away, but keeping him right there with all his attention on her. This was one of the very few songs she knew all the words to, and sang along as they danced together.

…make me feel like I’m the only girl in the world, like I’m the only one that you’ll ever love, like I’m the only one who knows your heart…

If he understood the lyrics, his face didn’t tell her—all she could glean from his expression was a deep hunger for something that shouldn’t be eaten right in the middle of a crowd of people.

His hand crept up behind her, trailing from her belt loops to the small of her back and up, up—

He fell off-beat when he realized there was nothing else under her shirt. She knew his eyes were a very pretty shade of brown, warm and welcoming, belying a strength that hid just below the surface. But they were black, all-pupil as he pulled her closer, squishing her chest against his as he leaned down—

“You are a very naughty girl,” he said in her ear, loud enough for only her to hear. His lips brushed the soft, delicate skin there before they drifted down to her neck.

What a perfect reaction, she said, trying not to swoon right there with him kissing on her neck like a man possessed. She moved in for the kill, her fingers threading into his hair to pull him off. He groaned, bereft. “Don’t be pouty,” she teased. “We hardly did our cooldown, and you wanna get all hot again?”

“We didn’t do our cooldown,” he said, half-lidded eyes still glittering with what he didn’t try to keep concealed.

The dances continued, Qimir’s hand remaining stuck beneath her shirt, sometimes grabbing hold of it like he, too, needed to make sure she wouldn’t expose herself to the rest of Unknown Planet.

“Kana said you didn’t want to leave me alone with people you didn’t trust,” she said later.

He rolled his eyes, grumbling something she couldn’t hear—only feel with her hand pressed against his chest. The slow dance they’d drifted into allowed them some rest among the crowd.

“What are you trying to ask me?” he settled on.

“Well, did you?”

“…yes.”

“Why don’t you trust the people here?”

“I trust them as much as I have to,” he said, pulling her in so he could speak into her ear. It always gave her shivers when he did so, the feeling of his words being meant just for her. “It’s not personal—most of the time.”

Her mind went to Idise.

Qimir doesn’t fucking talk about the assault. He doesn’t even talk to me about it. Never had, not in fourteen years.

He didn’t trust her with that.

Her mind went to Medora.

Q was with him a few months by then, recovering from that horrible car accident.

He didn’t trust her with that.

Her mind went to Kana.

Qimir is an enigma. I wasn’t lying to you when I said he’s lonely and prefers it like that.

He didn’t even trust Kana to talk about his life.

Did he trust anybody? Could he, after all that Vernestra and the Temple had done to him? She couldn’t blame him for that, but she didn’t have to be alright with it. It only made her wonder what else he could have been keeping from her.

The lights went red again, a thick drumbeat and guitar riff tearing through the air at the end of the slow dance. She wasn’t satisfied by slow-drip answers and war-rationed information, but Qimir didn’t know any other way.

You could ask.

And damn it, she knew she could ask. She hated knowing that he would answer her if she was direct about what she wanted to know. The issue was that the pool of knowledge she had about him was becoming unbalanced, oversaturated by what everyone else told her instead of what she found out from him directly. Asking him too specific a question would raise suspicions, and then she’d have to be the one giving him answers and hoping to get some in return.

If he wasn’t too upset with her, that is.

But shit, she had to start somewhere, or else she’d never know. She opened her mouth to ask—

As the lights in the bar powered down to near-darkness. “Fuck, another power surge?” Osha muttered, with about two dozen other people echoing the sentiment.

“Hey,” he said, lacing their fingers together. “Where’d you go? You looked lost in thought before.”

She shook her head with a little laugh, then realized he couldn’t see her. “Think I’m just tired. Might need another drink to get me dancing again.”

She cursed her cowardice.

They waited until the lights returned and the party continued before refueling. In that time spent waiting, she didn’t ask him a single question.

One drink later, he twirled her back onto the dance floor, ending with her pressed up against him, her back to his front. His hands wrapped around her torso, and she almost jumped when he started to grind their bodies together, lewd and just for them in the dark mass of dancers. Nobody was paying attention to them; perhaps that’s what emboldened him.

…and I am imagining a dark-lit place, or your place or my place—

She leaned back against him, letting him lead though they were going nowhere fast, stuck in place and writhing together. One of his hands came up her front, tracing the toned muscles of her abdomen before—

A soft press of fingertips to her lowest rib—floating ribs, he’d told her once. She muddled through the reason for such a gesture before her mind connected now with a moment shared, hours ago, two floors up. Testing for a bruise or break.

“Playing doctor?” she asked, resenting the breathy, heart-skipped note in her voice. He just pressed his face into her neck, mouthing at her skin as he walked his fingers higher and higher. Eventually, his hand came to rest almost neighborly against the side of her breast. It wasn’t a grope, it wasn’t copping a feel in public, and from the way they were standing, nobody could tell what he was doing.

Still, it turned the heat up in the friction-place between them—not an inch of air separating their bodies. He was hard, a white-hot brand against her ass—Look what you do to me, his body said. Look what I do to you, his smirk teased. Look what you let me do, his free-roving hand whispered against her skin.

A gasp stuttered through her lungs, tripping oxygen into her veins. His thumb continued its trail in, teasing, teasing—

And then the room went black again, frustrated chatter covering up the quiet whimper she gave as he fully cupped her breast beneath the shirt. He seized the moment, rolling her nipple between his finger and thumb and kissing down the side of her neck. Someone jostled them as they moved, and still, he did not let go of her.

His other hand came to join, came to match the first. It took everything for Osha not to fully moan for everyone to hear.

The familiar click-click-click-thrummmm of the power returning signaled the departure of his hands from her chest, and she sagged back against him—both in relief and mild disappointment.

He just chuckled in her ear, and the music returned.

Osha could hardly hear the loud, thumping bassline over the pound of her heartbeat. His other hand bypassed the teasing tug at her belt loop in favor of wrapping and dipping his fingers into the waistband itself—not delving or diving, just holding. Gripping. Controlling. You’re not going anywhere until I’m done with you.

Lips against her neck, Qimir definitely felt the feral whimper claw its way out of her throat, desperate and needy—for him alone. In the dark, nobody could see her, but in the light, nobody could hear her.

Regardless, something snapped in his composure, and he was tired of playing with her like this. He spun her around, capturing her in his grip and kissing her filthily.

They didn’t even bother trying to dance, though their bodies moved against each other in some facsimile of what everyone else was doing. Qimir’s mouth was hot as it claimed her, and how hot did he have to be hotter than the air around them, hotter than the blood in her veins, which felt like fucking fire—

He groaned against her, stoking the flames higher and higher. He tasted only vaguely like his drink from earlier, her tongue instead recognizing the sweet burn of the cinnamon gum he kept in his car.

Said gum seemed to want to join the kiss as well. At the (objectively mortifying) realization, he started to move back. Osha didn’t know what compelled her to do it, but she stole it right from his fucking mouth with a deft flick of her tongue. She pulled back, chewing and snapping it between her teeth to show off her victory.

Qimir looked close to snapping what was left of his composure.

You’re rattling a bit close to the sun, Osha.

“Trouble,” he called her.

“Can you blame me?” she said around a grin, snapping his gum.

Osha’s giggles harmonized with the scuffle of her shoes as she stumbled up the stairs. Qimir herded her like a sheepdog, helping her to wander in just one direction instead of the multiple directions she’d been going. It must have been like walking an overeager puppy for the first time. Once inside, she halted suddenly, making him run into her back with a soft oof.

“Can I wear your gray shirt again?” she asked quite seriously, eyes focusing and unfocusing on his face. As such, she only half-witnessed the fond smile he cast down at her.

“Of course,” he chuckled. “You should sit down.”

“Okay!”

He returned holding a similar set of clothes to the ones he’d given her the last time she slept over—yes, including the gray shirt she’d worn last time. She started undressing automatically, and he quickly stepped into the kitchen, abruptly searching for something in his cabinets. One by one, Osha’s boots thunked to the floor, followed by her jeans, one sock, her coat, her knit cap, the other sock, and then her shirt. She’d foregone a bra in the bar, something she knew Qimir knew if the reddened skin at the back of his neck was anything to go on.

She giggled again as she shimmied into his shirt, the soft material feeling super cozy, even if it was loose on her smaller frame. The shorts were a little more difficult to get on, seeing as her sense of balance was all fucked up.

That means she found the floor.

“Oof,” she muttered, shorts halfway up her legs.

A few hurried steps preceded Qimir’s return; he muttered something under his breath as he helped tug the basketball shorts over her ass and then tugged his girlfriend off of the ground. “You’re wiggly tonight.”

“Myep.” She leaned against him, swaying like she was still slow dancing back at Unplan.

He kissed the top of her head. “Let’s go, drunkie.”

He sat her down on the edge of his bed (her side, her mind so helpfully suggested) and pulled a water bottle out of nowhere, cracking it open and immediately placing it in her hands.

Drink, the gesture said. That was an order.

Osha did her best to lock eyes with him as she gulped the water down, hardly tasting it as she did as she was told. He’d told her once that she did a good job of that—or at least better than the swimming and dive team did. She wondered if the sudden darkening of his eyes meant he was thinking the same thing as her.

She gasped for air when she pulled the bottle away, a single errant drop trailing from the corner of her lips. His thumb reached out, viper-fast, to brush it away before it fell any further. Like he’d done with all her tears.

She loved him.

Oh no, she had to be careful. Her lips were definitely a little looser after all she drank, but she still had the wherewithal to keep that little secret firmly behind her teeth.

He lay her down in the bed and pulled the covers up before going around.

Something itched at her mind. There was something wrong with this. Her body didn’t feel ready for bed. “No stretching?” she asked when the room went dark.

“I’ll do it in the morning,” he sighed, snuggling closer to her side until they were comfortable.

She wanted to protest more, but then she was asleep.

Qimir was still asleep, passed out on his back and half-sprawled on top of her. Osha’s head hurt, but not too badly. She was mostly just thirsty.

She knew her way around his kitchen from their many dinners together here.

I never got to cook him breakfast the other day when he slept over, she realized. Time to change that.

Osha was a pretty alright cook. While her dinner skills lacked finesse, breakfast was where she shined. Pancakes. We can have pancakes. We can have pancakes that are so good we can have morning sex for dessert.

She leaned against the counter, drinking water and searching through his iPod to find the right song for optimal breakfast-making vibes. She kept the volume low, letting him rest while setting things up.

…give me a long kiss goodnight and everything’ll be alright, tell me that I won’t feel a thing… so give me—

A noise came from the bed. The sharp sound would haunt her for a very long time after this day. She dropped what she was holding to turn toward whatever fatally wounded animal had made that noise, full of gasping agony and endless despair. She ran to Qimir’s bedside, where he stared at the ceiling and breathed through his nose like it was the only thing he could do. His jaw was clenched far too tightly for him to try to breathe in or out with his mouth—save for that wretched, awful noise.

“Qimir? What’s going on? What happened?” she asked, her voice suddenly panicked.

Panic. She needed to breathe; panic was the enemy of focus, and she’d need a lot of focus because he obviously—

“Can’t move.”

CHAPTER 21

#unhingery #common grounds #osha x qimir #oshamir #oshamir fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #the acolyte #the acolyte fanfiction

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newtthetranswriter · 17 days ago

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Hi, I hope you are having a great day/night! I was wondering if you could write a Drabble for Tristan liones x male reader reacting to a kid who claims they will marry the reader when they grow up.

If this doesn’t spark interest that’s totally okay no pressure(:

Word Count: 937

Paring: Tristan Liones x Male! Reader

A/n: Hi, thank you so much for the request, I’m having a good day, how about you? I thought this idea was really cute and I hope I did it justice. Tristan might be a little ooc but this is also my first time writing for him so I hope it’s okay. Anyways enjoy and as always remember to hydrate or diedrate.

Being in a relationship with one of the Four Knights of prophecy is one thing, but when that knight also happens to be the Prince of Liones things get a little more hectic. It’s not so much because the relationship is constantly under the eyes of the public, but more so because Tristain is an interesting guy.

Simple dates of walking through the market quickly turn into helping an old lady with her shopping, or stopping some thugs picking on a shopkeeper. His need to help out those in need isn’t a bad thing, it just leads to some strange situations. Like the one he found himself in now. Yet another simple date in between his duties as a Holy Knight has turned into helping someone in need.

While the young couple was enjoying a picnic in the fields just outside of Liones, their quiet conversations were interrupted by the sound of a crying child. With neither Knight being able to ignore the sound of someone in need, they both quickly stood up and followed the sounds of distress.

The two quickly found a young girl curled up near the base of a tree, tears running down her face. Slowly approaching the girl, Y/n kneeled down next her trying not to frighten the child more than she already seemed to be.

“Hey there, are you okay? Are you hurt?” He asked in a calm voice while Tristan looked around for any sign of the child's parents. The young girl only sniffled and shook her head. “Okay, what’s your name? I’m Y/n and this is Tristan, we’re Holy Knights and we want to help you get home safe.” He said with a gentle smile and motioning towards Tristan, trying to get the girl to open up so they could help.

After a moment of silence, the girl wiped her face before looking up at Y/n. “I’m Cynthia.” She said in a small voice.

“Nice to meet you Cynthia, do you know where your parents are? I’m sure they’re worried about you.” Tristan said as he came closer after not seeing any sign of worried parents in the distance.

The girl looked like she was thinking for a second before answering. “They’re at work. I was playing tag with my friends and ran too far away. When I couldn’t hear them anymore I got scared.” She explained.

Nodding along with what the girl was saying, Y/n thought up a plan. “How about we help you get back to your friends then? I’m sure their game isn’t as fun without you there.” He said standing up and offering his hand to the little girl.

“Are you sure?” She asked, still sounding a little nervous but still taking the offered hand.

“Positive, games are boring if you’re missing friends.” Y/n answered with a bright smile. Tristan nodded in agreement.

Seemingly pleased with the answer, Cynthia nodded and for the first time let a smile stretch across her face. “Okay, we were playing closer to town near the little shop run by fairies, I think.” She tried to explain as they began walking in the direction of Liones.

As they walked, Y/n tried to get to know the young girl, hoping that his questions would help relax her after being lost even for a short time. Tristan on the other hand walked ahead of the two keeping an eye out for the girl’s group of friends but also listening closely to the conversation happening behind him.

“You know, Mister Y/n you’re really handsome.” The girl said as a small group children slowly started to come into view.

Startled by the sudden compliment, Y/n looked down at the child. “Thank you, but what makes you say that?” He asked curious as to why the girl was randomly complimenting him.

Cynthia just shrugged before responding. “Because I’ve decided, I’m going to marry you when I grow up.”

Hearing the statement caused both Y/n and Tristan to freeze for a second. “Oh look, there’s your friends. You should probably go back to them now.” Tristan said, breaking the silence.

“Oh really, Thank you.” The girl said before letting go of Y/n’s hand which she had been holding since the beginning of the walk. “Bye Mister Tristan, and bye future Husband.” The girl said with a smile as she ran back to play with her friends.

Once the girl was completely focused on her friends, who all seemed happy that she came back safely, Y/n turned to Tristan. “So your jealousy of a six year old.” He said with a slight smirk on his face.

“Am not. It’s just her friends looked worried and I figured it was time for her to let them know she’s okay.” The prince responded while crossing his arms over his chest. “Plus you froze up too. Were you considering accepting her offer?” He asked, turning the teasing on his now frowning boyfriend.

Trying to cover the slight blush creeping up his face, Y/n turned away from the nephilim. “No, I was trying to figure out how to tell her I’m planning on marrying someone else.” There was a second of silence before Tristan let out a sound of confusion, that was similar to a ‘who’ but wasn’t really a word. “You’re lucky I love you.” Was all Y/n said in response before pulling the confused prince into a quick kiss. “Now can we go back to our picnic?”

Snapping out of his confused shock, Tristan tried to ignore the blush that took over his face. “Uh, Yeah sure.”

(dividers by @/cafekitsune)

#x reader #4kota x reader #Tristan liones x reader #four knights of the apocalypse #four knights of the apocalypse x reader #sds x reader #sds tristan x reader #newt writes #answering requests

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zoeysdamn · 2 years ago

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Bark, Bite & Break Bones - Tyler Galpin x Van Helsing!reader | Part.9

Summary: The mystery around the Weathervane attacks remains, but it’s really none of your or Tyler’s businesses anymore. Until it is. The Avengers might be a weird group, but you’re honestly willing to beat the strangeness level of their team with an unexpected coalition of your own.

Warnings: swearing, angst, mention of blood, mention of child neglect (minor)

A/N: HOLY MOTHER OF SEA OTTERS, SHE’S ALIVE-- I’m once again soooo sorry for being so unactive on this fic, but y’know ✨ adult life struggles ✨ and ✨ depression ✨ Jokes aside, this was supposed to be the last chapter, but I realized it was probably better to cut it in two. Aaaaaand I have to admit, I used some reference from The Witcher 3, guilty (I’m not)

[Masterlist] [Prologue] [Part.1] [Part.2] [Part.3] [Part.4] [Part.5] [Part.6] [Part.7] [Part.8]

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

It wasn’t the question per se, more of the person asking it that surprised you. Lifting your nose from your herbology textbook, you raised a perplexed eyebrow at the small dark form of Wednesday Addams in front of you. A solid second of silent surprise passed before your brain connected again.

“Uh, yeah sure. Let me grab my things.”

Gathering your textbooks and notes you followed the younger student out of the library. If Wednesday Addams took time to actually ask if you had time to talk, it surely would be interesting. Once you both reached the quad, Wednesday stopped in a more scheduled area, away from other student’s stares. Even if the dirty or frightened looks had slightly died down over the months, a Van Helsing still attracted unwanted attention.

“So,” you began, “what’s up?”

“I’m surprised your paramour isn’t at your side,” she observed sharply out of the blue, “I have come to notice you two are almost as disgustingly prone to display affection as my parents.”

“Yeah, like you’re one to talk. Who’s your girlfriend again?” you snickered, thinking about Enid’s tendency to smother everyone with affection. Given Wednesday’s deeping frown, you made a good point.

“Anyway,” the Addams said after cleaning her throat, “there is some interesting news regarding the attack at the Weathervane. I thought it might interest you.”

You arched a brow. “And you’re aware of that because…?”

“Despite his poor skills as a detective and a father, Sheriff Galpin has the merit of being aware of his incompetence.”

Cackling bitterly, you couldn’t help but let a scoff escape you, “I beg to differ on that point, but go on.”

“He asked for my help on the investigation and I agreed to.”

“You mean that a team of full grown and trained detectives asked for a teenager to help them on an official investigation?” you repeated in disbelief. “Damn”, you chuckled, “Jericho’s police are even shittier than I thought, I wonder how Tyler and I were even arrested in the first place.”

Wednesday shrugged lightly, “I was there for Tyler’s arrest, which explains the resolution of this case itself. For you I guess it was beginner’s luck.”

“Mmmh, you don’t think of yourself poorly, do you Addams?” you hummed, somehow amused by her bold assumptions.

“I’m merely sharing facts,” she deadpanned in her usual flat tone. “The point is, I found some clear evidence leading to the conclusion the attackers were indeed mercenaries.”

Your witty demeanor disappeared at her words, immediately replaced by tense concentration and a serious frown. “So someone did pay them,” you completed. It was only confirming what you suspected. “Any idea who the contract may come from?”

“Not yet,” answered Wednesday with evident frustration, “but the real goal of this attack is more certainly outcasts-directed.”

The frown on your face only deepened, “But the only outcasts there had been Tyler and I.”

The brunette lifted an unimpressed eyebrow at you. As a long silence settled, the pieces connected in your brain. “Oh,” you whispered.

“It is highly probable that you or Tyler were the true targets of this attack,” said Wednesday. “It’s still unclear whether it was because you two are Nevermore’s students or directed against you personally.”

You nodded, thinking about it, “Yeah, you have a point. We often go to the Weathervane but we’re not regulars either. If the attack was directed to us, that means the person who ordered it was well-informed on our whereabouts and the therapy sessions.”

“Do you think the therapist might be involved?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head, “Dr.Fern might be a little too noisy for my taste but she’s not shady. And if the whole point of this attack was to kill either Tyler or me, they really did a shitty work. Why start to shoot everywhere when there’s only two clear targets and the element of surprise on your side? And none of their shots actually hit us, mercenaries are supposed to have some skills usually.”

Wednesday cocked her eyes to the side, carefully listening to your out loud reflexions. “What’s your point?”

“I mean, despite everything it doesn’t seem that they effectively tried to kill us,” you explained, trying to find some sense to your own thoughts. “Either they were terrible at their job, or there’s something more at stake.”

“Interesting,” noted the Addams, “according to you there might be something more than a badly executed hold up.”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, immediately shutting off defensively, “it’s only things that sounded weird when we talk about it. I don’t want to have anything to do with this investigation.”

That had the merit to actually surprise Wednesday, whose eyebrows rose in surprise. “Don’t you want to get to the bottom of this?”

As a reflex, you snorted sarcastically, “The only thing I want to get to the bottom of is a cup of coffee and Tyler’s bed.”

“Gross.”

Again, you shrugged. “Look, this year has had a lot of shit shows already, I’m not interested in digging up some more. I got out alive from this attack, and so did Tyler; it’s fine for me.”

“What if the person behind this isn’t done with you?” countered the unfazed brunette.

“I’ll be here again to save our asses. If they ever grow some courage to actually face us instead of sending fucking amateurs.”

With that you gave her a polite nod and made your way to your next class. Wednesday might be focused on finding out the truth about the Weathervane attack a few weeks prior, but you definitely weren’t. All that mattered to you currently was to get through the rest of the year without too much trouble; then you and Tyler would be free to go anywhere else but the juridic clutches of your stay at Nevermore academy.

Speaking of your boyfriend, you were pulled out of your thoughts by the familiar sensation of his arms sliding around your waist.

“Hey babe,” he greeted, dropping a kiss on your cheek. You hadn’t heard him reaching you in the corridors.

“Hey there handsome,” you grinned softly at him.

For a moment, you pondered if you should tell him what troubled you after your talk with Wednesday. But as soon as his lips found yours you brushed that thought away. He was okay, you were okay. Whatever it was could wait, you didn’t want to trouble him with suspicions that could very well turn out to be nothing important. The main objective was to get the two of you to the end of the school year quietly. Then, if vengeance to plot there’ll be, you’ll be here to do the dirty work without a doubt.

It had been almost a week since your encounter with Wednesday Addams. Eventually, you had ended up sharing it with Tyler, the conversation laced with your own concerns on the matter. Just like you, your boyfriend had his doubts on the real reason behind this attack. This was Jericho, not some 1920’s Chicago moment. There had never been such attacks in this small town, even less from mercenaries, so he agreed that something was off. But Tyler also rejoined you on your decision to not get involved in the investigation. After all, he was the last person police officers would want to collaborate with, and he definitely wasn’t fond of seeing his dad again either. So the subject had been quickly brushed away, as the day passed and you focused yourselves on school and your couple. Maybe it was better this way, even if he didn’t admit it yet you could say Tyler still felt antsy about the whole ordeal and his transformation. It wasn’t uncommon for him to startle up with a gasp in the middle of the night, breath short and knuckles gripping the bed sheets. He had gradually started to spend more nights in his own room to avoid any reproach from Weems, but after the third time calling you in the middle of the night with a trembling voice, you had called it out and practically dragged him into your own room – not that it had ever been something hard to do.

This has only strengthened your decision to not interfere with the investigation whatsoever. No matter how weird all of this had been, the attack and its consequences had already taken quite a toll on Tyler and you. Even if you had stayed at Nevermore, you didn’t forget how close you had been to being sent back in juvie. So for now, what you needed to do was to lay low, and take care of Tyler – as much as you let him take care of you. At some point you had both agreed to solely focus on school work and getting the two of you through the school year and not play the heroes here. Not that you would have been considered as such, anyway.

Deep into slumber, it took a certain amount of time to your ears to pick the knocks on your door. The warm embrace of Tyler’s front pressed against your side was so deliciously numbing, your consciousness didn’t want to emerge from this. But whoever was knocking on your door didn’t share such concerns. With a groan you cracked an eye open, and your frown immediately softened when you met your boyfriend’s sleeping face. Even with the scars crossing from his forehead to his jaw, Tyler was beautiful in his sleep. You lost yourself a little in the contemplation of him, eyes gazing over his freckles, slightly parted lips and brown curls. A more insistent knock made you swore under your breath, the softness of the previous moment whipped away by the crushing reality – it was way too early to knock on your door like that. Carefully removing the arm that Tyler had draped over your waist, you slipped out of the bed, grabbing a pair of night shorts to throw under your sleeping shirt on your way to the door.

Flying the door open with the deadliest glare you had, you couldn’t help your eyebrows to raise a little at the unexpected sight of Xavier. The psychic looked nervous – but again, anyone who disturbed your sleep should be.

“What do you want Thorpe?” you grumbled in a still sleep-tainted voice.

The long-haired boy seemed uneasy, “Y/N there’s something you need to see.”

“It’s fucking four in the morning, can’t this wait?” An irritated groan morphed into a yawn when slipping past your lips, emphasizing your words. Still, Xavier didn’t back down.

“No it can’t. Please, it’s really important. Can we at least talk about it inside?”

You threw a glance over your shoulder at Tyler half naked sleeping form. Biting back another swear, before returning your attention to Xavier, “Give me two minutes to get ready.”

True to your words, two minutes later, some clothes thrown over and a loving kiss pressed on Tyler’s forehead, you exited your room ready to follow Xavier to whatever was so important. The fact that he didn’t answer any of your questions and gave evasive answers played on your nerves even more. But your last streak of patience definitely snapped when he started to lead you to the forest.

“Woah there, okay look Thorpe, you’re nice and all but I’m not following you in that forest unless you tell me what’s going on here.”

“You’re afraid?” he asked in genuine surprise ; never would have he thought of the fearless Y/N Van Helsing, who had done unspeakable things to other students, being wary of a forest at night.

Like reading his mind, you scoffed, “I’m not afraid of this creepy-ass forest but I did get beaten to a bloody pulp last time I was there. I’m not stupid enough to walk into another trap.”

“Who would have thought,” interjected a new voice.

Whipping your head around to the sound, you winced at the unwelcomed sight of Bianca emerging from the woods. The siren’s jaw was clenched, and her eyes throwing daggers at you. Nothing unusual.

“Okay this is definitely a trap, I’m out of here,” you snapped irritably, the lack of sleep evident in your edgy tone. “Thorpe, I’m not wishing you good night,” you sneered bitterly at the artist before starting to stomp back to your dorm. But another familiar flat voice interjected out of nowhere.

“It seems like you misread the situation, Y/N.”

This time, you turned around in pure surprise. Wednesday Addams stood next to the murdering-looking siren, like she had appeared out of nowhere. For a moment, you took time to take in the sight of the odd trio before you. From what you had understood from Ajax and Enid during an unexpected gossip session in the library, Xavier used to have a thing for Wednesday last year, while he and Bianca had freshly broken up. This had led to some tension between the two girls, and knowing Bianca it surely wasn’t pretty. So yeah, it was indeed weird to have a reunion of the four of you.

A dry chuckle escaped you as you turned to face Wednesday. “Have I? Pretty sure Ariel over there will take on any opportunity to try to kill me. Again.” you pressed with a death glare to Bianca.

“Don’t think I wouldn’t,” she hissed in return.

This made the small brunette roll her eyes of boredom, “If you called me only to witness your childish bickering then it’s a waste of my time, Bianca. At least put a knife in the feud so it’ll be interesting.”

Your eyebrows arched at her words, but then you looked back to Bianca who only swore under her breath, eyes cast down in annoyance. Suddenly the situation became way more funny to you and a grin stretched your lips.

“Ooooh this is rich,” you giggled. It made the three other students’ eyes widen a bit, given how unusual this reaction was for you. But you found this too glorious to contain your amusement. “Bianca Barclay, actually asking not only for Wednesday Addams’ help but mine too? Boy, you should really be that desperate.”

Instead of a venom-laced comeback, Bianca shrugged ; and that was telling you how serious all of this was.

“Let’s not waste any time,” she simply muttered, “Come, it’s not far.”

Before you could realize how unbelievable this situation was, you followed the odd trio into the woods, a flabbergasted expression on your face. Now, this was a day to remember.

While your group walked in awkward silence you shuffled closer to Wednesday.

“Do you have any idea what this is about?” you muttered to her, still eyeing Bianca and Xavier suspiciously. They didn’t seem quite at ease, which knowing both of them was odd.

“No,” deadpanned the Addams. “That’s why you’re here.”

Her answer only left you even more confused, and as on cue you all arrived at what looked like a shed in the middle of nowhere. Given no one spoke you raised your eyebrow at your fellow students.

“Well?”

“I was joining Xavier in his art shed earlier,” egan Bianca, arms crossed in annoyance – or was it actually uneasiness? You couldn’t tell. “But I noticed something really strange around here.”

“Such as?”

“I don’t know,” Bianca snapped out of frustration at your question, “It was creepy as fuck so Xavier called Wednesday but she doesn’t know what it is. Thought you might come see and tell us what it is.”

“Hold on,” you scrunch your nose in mild disgust, “I’m not investigating this place you certainly shagged in. Like ew, no thanks.”

Xavier’s cheeks heated up at your words, “I- it’s my art shed!” he said defensively, to which you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah sure, and your ex-not-ex-girlfriend came here to learn how to paint with acrylics.”

“Grow up a little, Van Helsing,” grumbled Bianca, not feeling amused at all by your antics. “Besides, it’s not in the shed but a few feet away.”

The siren pointed at a tree nearby, and you turned away from a reddening Xavier to approach the mysterious thing. Curiosity grew in you as you came closer and detailed the strange composition in front of you. A large animal skull was binded on the tree by a rope, engraved with strange symbols on its front. Some flowers and branches were intricated around the whole thing, maybe in a poor aesthetic attempt. It could pass as a weird gloomy art and craft project if it wasn’t for the dark and uneasy vibe it gave off.

“I found it like that,” explained Bianca, “creeped the shit out of me.”

“You really called me in the middle of the night to join your scooby-gang investigation?” you snickered, rolling your eyes. But no one bought your denial this time.

“It’s not a genuine installation,” commented Wednesday next to you, eyeing the skull. “Even you can sense something’s off about it, don’t you?”

You had to admit that they were right. No matter how sarcastic you wanted to be about this absurd meeting, you had to give it to Bianca that she had spotted something clearly unusual. Fortunately for them, your sleepy brain still managed to recognize the strange contraption.

“So what is it?” asked a nervous Xavier.

“It’s a nithing.” The perplexed silence your words left made you realize how none of the other students had any idea what you were talking about. So did their frowns when you glanced at them behind your shoulder.

“A what?”

“A nithing,” you repeated, eyeing the carving closely, “A vessel to emit a curse, a powerful one. Made with a horse’s skull and some runes. But that’s odd.”

“What is? That someone set a curse on someone else?” scoffed Bianca - yet in her tone laid some concern.

Fully turning to them you shook your head, “This is a very ancient norse method, not known by many. I’m not even sure if it has been used in the past centuries or even outside of Scandinavia.”

It would be oh so tempting to snicker at them and gloat at Bianca ; but the presence of such contraption made you more concerned than a childish contentment of making fun of the siren.

“Yet you seem awfully well informed about it,” commented Wednesday flatly.

Instead of vexing you, her words only made you shrug. “Not that much, honestly. Heard about it before, perks of having to learn magic history from monster hunting books. Though I regret not having much more information about it now. This,” you pointed to the engraved skull, “is kinda concerning.”

“Do you know how to lift this curse?” Bianca asked, but you shook your head.

“No. I told you, this isn’t something I ever saw in real life, I only heard about it.”

“So what now?” said Xavier. “We obviously can’t let this happen here, what if it’s already working?”

For a moment, a part of you suddenly wondered why the three students were here. Apart from having discovered the cursing vessel, nothing obligated Xavier or Bianca to do anything about the nithing, let alone seek help to destroy it. But thinking about it, you realized that both of them were Nightshades – as unbelievable it sounded to you after your history with this order, they seemed willing to help their fellow students for the greater good. Maybe things indeed had changed after Jeremiah’s departure. As for Wednesday, she was probably there for the thrill of the mystery. In any other context, you wouldn’t have blamed her for that.

A deep sigh escaped your lips.

“I don’t know,” you admitted.

“But you will help us, right?”

Taken aback by the question, you arched your eyebrows at the three other students watching you expectantly. You would have never thought that Nevermore students would actually call you for your help. Not only information, but a true, sincere demand to protect this academy. Sure, you weren’t as bitter toward the school and its students as you used to be a few months ago, but you weren’t sure that you were willing to go to any lengths to help them. Not interfering with any funny business apart from your own safety, that’s what you always lived by. That’s how you would go through the end of the school year, you knew that. Nothing forced you to help this school, you didn’t owe any of its members shit.

But you had already broken that rule of yours. When you had decided to help Tyler, way before you fell for him. Or every time you had made sure he wouldn’t attack anyone; or the negotiations with Weems to stay at Nevermore, and the lack of revenge after what Yoko did to you at the Poe cup. The truth was, you had crossed the line of being neutral a long time ago; maybe it had started when you had made Jeremiah pay. Back then, you weren’t even protecting yourself, you were protecting all of the students who could have been armed by this fucker.

And then it hit you: deep down, you knew that you would help those students. Because you didn’t want to be like the rest of your family. Because deep down, under all the build-up confidence, all the sarcasm and buried trauma, there was this fear clenching your guts that you could one day be like your elders. Either a blood-thirsty radical like your grandparents, or a pathetic back-hunched coward that claimed neutrality like your parents. All of them hurted people by their actions and let kids that should never suffer from what they are be hurt.

As long as you lived, you would never let a kid be hurt like you had been; no matter if they were outcasts or humans. So in the end, the answer was easy.

“Yeah,” you breathed out, realizing how long you had been silent. “Yeah, I’ll help you.”

A relieved sigh was almost heard from Xavier and Bianca. Although you didn’t mention it, there was no need to push your luck. Instead, you immediately set your brain on a more strategic mode.

“So what now?” you said out loud, refocusing everyone’s attention on the matter at hand. Unsurprisingly, Bianca was the first to react.

“If there’s any danger for a student, we need to find who is targeted,” she declared. “Y/N, how far do you think the power of the curse goes?”

“You want to bring the student out of the curse’s reach?” asked Xavier, to which she nodded.

Thinking about it for a moment you waved your hand in the air. “I don’t know, like around…10, 20 miles? Curses bounded by objects usually have a field of action but it depends on many things.”

“So we can’t exactly rely on that,” concluded Wednesday. “For once I regret my mother isn’t here, her insights on curses could have been useful.”

All of you collectively nodded gravely. But then, a sparkle burst in your mind, lightning all the boxes of ideas that had been so fogged.

“Wednesday Addams, you’re a genius,” you blurted excitedly, under the perplexed looks of the other students.

“I know,” she shrugged. “Why?”

Fishing your phone in your pocket you quickly flipped open your contacts. “I know who might know something about nithings and how to lift the curse.”

“Really? That’s awesome!” beamed Xavier.

“Who is it?” asked an ecstatic Bianca.

The smile of hope that had pushed its way to your lips immediately disappeared, turning into a wince. Looking back at them, you offered your newfound colleagues a sorry look. “Well…none of us will like this call, that’s for sure.”

They looked at each other in confusion.

“Y/N, who are you calling?” repeated Bianca.

With a sigh, you pressed the call button, “My grandmother.”

A few shocked gasps escaped Bianca and Xavier, but you quickly turned away, pressing the phone to your ear. They may have been wary of you at first, but the infamous Irina and Ephraïm Van Helsing were more terrible threats than you were; every outcast knew that. It didn’t please you either to call your grandmother, but you really were short on options here.

Just as you were considering ending the call, someone picked up on the other side of the line.

“I thought you were lying dead somewhere in a gutter,” said an old voice as a greeting.

Rolling your eyes at her comment, you tried your best to not sigh too hard, “Hello to you too old hag. Guess you’re not mummified yet, what a shame.”

Even on the phone, you could practically hear your grandmother roll her eyes. “What do you want, child?”

“Don’t think I call you out of a joy of heart,” you snickered, under the wide eyes of Bianca, Xavier and Wednesday; this exchange was surely quite a scene. “You’re a cold hearted bitch but you know a thing or two about curses.”

She scoffed, “What makes you think that?”

“Because living with you and Ephraïm sure was one,” you spat bitterly. “C’mon grandma, don’t make me compliment you, I’m not in the mood for ass-kissing.”

“Always the gem Y/N. Such an ungrateful disgrace you are.”

“Yeah, yeah whatever,” you said with a dismissive wave of your hand. “Nithings, what can you tell me about it?”

A long silence followed your question. For a moment, you even thought that your grandmother had hung up on you. But then she said, “Where did you find one?”

You debated whether or not you should tell her; if she knew it was at Nevermore, she would gladly let it kill whoever was targeted. “Does it matter?” you said instead.

“Yes.”

“For your answer or for your will to?”

A chuckle resonated on the line, “It’s in this degenerated school, then. I sure hope you’re not trying to lift this curse. At least it would do the job you’re failing to do.”

“As a matter of fact, I am trying to lift it,” you answered dryly. “And please, if I was really failing at my job I’d be dead by now.”

Your grandmother scoffed in disbelief, “Why are you even doing this? You side with the enemy now?”

Sighing in annoyance you pinched the bridge of your nose. “Why does it even matter anymore, I might be the one cursed, isn’t this enough for you?”

A pause. “You sure don’t want the answer to that,” assured the elderly woman quietly.

Her response stinged a little, but you were already aware of that; to be honest, the contrary would have surprised you. So you decided to play the card you knew would work.

“You do realize that the Van Helsing lineage will end with me, right? What a shame it would be if the disgrace I am happened to be the last of this oh-so-glorious family because you didn’t help, don’t you think?”

At the lack of immediate answer from your grandmother, you knew you had hit right. Slightly glancing behind you, you gave an encouraging thumb up to the baffled trio of students who were witnessing the bitter exchange with wide eyes. FInally, your grandmother spoke up.

“What do you need?”

A relieved sigh almost escaped you, but you didn’t want to give her the satisfaction. Instead you said, “How can I know who’s targeted by the curse?”

“Does the nithing have carvings on?”

“Yeah, runes on the top of the skull.”

She hummed in agreement, “They should give you the name of the person the curse had been set on, then.”

Scratching the back of your neck, you chuckled nervously. “My nurse runes are a bit rusty, never been the best at old languages.”

The elderly woman scoffed, “You’ve never been the best at anything, child.”

“Fuck off grandma. Anyone know any old norse by any chance?” you called out behind you.

Wednesday, Bianca and Xavier all shook their heads.

“Guess Google translate will do, then.” you shrugged. “Okay, we find who’s the target, then what?” you asked again.

“Either way you find the person who set the curse and carve their name instead, or you let the curse do its job.”

Once again, you let out an irritated sigh at her stubbornness. “What part of ‘lifting the curse’’ do you not understand? I know you’re ancient but jeez, your hearing isn’t improving.”

“Quit the petulant child behavior, Y/N.”

“You first,” you retorted back bitterly. “I’m not thanking you, bye.”

Before another unpleasant remark could be thrown at you, you pressed the end call button angrily. The first phone call with one of your grandparents in years, and it had been as nasty as you had thought.

“So?”

Xavier’s question pulled you out of your thoughts. You turned around to see the three students look at you expectantly.

“Apparently the target’s name is engraved on the skull,” you explained pointing at the nithing. “And carving the name of the person responsible for this should inverse the curse.”

“Are you sure?” frowned Bianca. “This sounds awfully simple.”

You raised an eyebrow at her. “If you want to call the old hag yourself, be my guest.”

The siren shivered in cold sweat by the mere thought.

“So, what now?” she asked, trying to think about a plan of action.

“Don’t you think we should inform Weems?” said Xavier. “Maybe she could help with that.”

“If we are going to evacuate the school, yeah maybe,” you muttered quietly. “Didn’t you use your siren song last year?”

Bianca’s eyebrows rose at your genuine question, “Yeah, we did. Why? How do you know that?”

“Ajax mentioned it,” you shrugged. “What if we used that to interrogate students? Find out who had set the curse?”

“Are you sure about that?” Bianca raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that illegal and breaking, I don’t know, like a dozen laws on personal rights?”

You shrugged, “At this point, I’m not counting anymore how many laws we’ll be breaking to sort this shit out. Would that be possible, yes or no?”

The siren thought about it for a few seconds.

“It could,” she admitted, “but it would take a lot of time. Even if we ask for help from other sirens students, we’ll have to explain the situation to them so that they ask the right questions. Last time was easier, we just had to tell everyone to get out.”

“How long do you think it would take?” nudged Xavier.

“Around two hours, maybe three…one and a half if everyone’s cooperating, which is rather unlikely.”

“So it’s too long if we want to lift the curse before it gets to work,” you deduced. “For all we know, it might already be working. You said you discovered it just tonight?”

Bianca and Xavier nodded in sync. “I came here last night too, and there was nothing,” confirmed the artist.

“What about that?” called Wednesday.

The three of you turned your heads to where the smaller student was crouching in front of the nithing. Phone in hand, she was looking closely at the engraved runes. To be honest, you hadn’t noticed her slipping away from your group.

“What did you find?” you asked, approaching her.

“This rune,” she pointed to the last one, “according to this device you call “Google translate” it should be meaning something along the lines of a house, or territory.”

“So you do know how to use a phone,” grinned Xavier.

She sent him a death glare, “Don’t push your luck. I still despise modern technology.”

Ignoring the bickering, Bianca frowned. “A house? I thought the curse was targeting someone, it doesn’t make any sense. Could there be another meaning to the rune?” she asked you. “Google translate isn’t the most accurate.”

“Don’t think so,” you mumbled, deep in thought. Then, something hit you. “Xavier,” you snapped suddenly, “is this area still within Nevermore’s grounds?”

He blinked at first, taken aback by your question. “Uh, yeah. Yeah it is, I’m pretty sure the shed is a school’s property. Why?”

It clicked in your head, and a dreadful feeling sank in your bones.

“We have to go back to the school,” you whispered in a shaky voice.

“What? Why?” asked Bianca in surprise.

Instead of answering, you started to rush in the school’s direction. When Xavier shouted your name, you said, “I know what the curse’s target is.”

Despite their surprise, the three other students quickly followed you. Reaching your side, Bianca frowned. “Don’t you mean “who”?”

You shook your head. “We were wrong thinking the nithing was set on one person. The runes are indeed referring to both a territory and a house, not someone inside in particular.”

“What do you mean?”

Gulping loudly, you really hoped you weren’t too late already. “The curse had been set on the whole school. None of the grounds are safe, we need to get everyone out now.”

It was the smell that reached you first. You and the three other students weren’t out of the woods yet when the strong smell of ashes caught your nostrils. No need to look at the other to sense the equal worry that immediately caught them too. Bursting out from the forest, you stopped dead in your tracks at the sight in front of you: draped in raging flames, the walls of two Nevermore dorms were burning. Heavy smoke escaped through the windows and burned your eyes, the all too familiar feeling freezing you on the spot for a handful of seconds. Then the reality came back to you like a slap on the face, when the piercing screams of students finally reached your ears. How come you hadn’t heard them from the wood all that time? Everyone was screaming, terrified students running out of the buildings in their night clothes and horror in their eyes. It was only when you heard a familiar voice shouting your name that you came back to your senses, whipping your head around.

Crossing the crowd of terrified students the best he could, Tyler was running to you. He looked utterly distraught and there was something of a scared little boy in his eyes before they met yours. You opened your mouth to say something but were tackled in a bone-crushing hug insead. It could have been a cute gesture if it wasn’t for his fingers gripping around your shoulder like a lifeline.

“Y/N where have you been??” asked Tyler frantically, pulling away after long seconds of an embrace filled with worry. He still held you by the shoulders, at arm length, as to make sure you really were here in front of him.

You could feel his hands trembling on your arms, and your own hands immediately went to cup his scarred cheek in reassurance. “I’m fine,” you breathed out. “Some shit happened in the woods and my help was needed.”

This didn’t seem to calm the bubbling worry in Tyler, whose eyes were wet with tears. “You weren’t there when I woke up,” he choked with a sob.

A pained winced draped over your features, “I know, I’m sorry babe,” you whispered, trying to soothe him. Beyond the fact that the Hyde could come out under pressure or tense situations - and it definitely was one - you didn’t want Tyler to think you had somehow abandoned him.

But even if every fiber of your being wanted nothing but to cradle your boyfriend closer and comfort him, the heat of flames and screams reminded you this wasn’t a luxury you had.

“What happened?” you asked firmly but in a softer voice, still trying to contain his Hyde.

Thankfully it seemed to work, and Tyler nodded to himself to focus on the matter at hand, “I don’t know I- I was sleeping and then the fire alarm blasted. It startled me awake and I ran out of the room, but I couldn’t find you.”

“Did you see where the fire was when you got out?” you tried to ask softly to continue to soothe him. Tyler shook his head.

“There was smoke when I got out of the room,” he gulped, “so much smoke– I don’t know where the fire came from, but it was close.”

The information turned in your head ; none of this was really helpful. The panic created by the fire was so overwhelming for everyone, it made it so hard for you to think correctly. The arrival of Wednesday, Bianca and Xavier next to you got you out of your thoughts.

“Has everyone got out?” barked the siren hurriedly to the scarred boy. Too shaken to snark a witty comeback, Tyler could only shake his head.

“I- I don’t know,” he muttered. “everything was so fast and–”

“Wen!” a voice shouted from afar. Everyone of the little group turned their head to a panicked Enid, stumbling in her girlfriend’s direction, a raincoat thrown over her nightclothes. Despite her general disgust of any form of physical affection, Wednesday didn’t waste a second to wrap her arms around the terrified girl.

“Are you alright?” she asked her girlfriend; Enid could only sniffle as her whole body was trembling.

“I- I’m f-f-fine,” she hiccuped. Tears were rolling down her cheeks but no one seemed to care. “There’s still- oh my god Wen, there’s still people in there,” she cried.

That made everyone’s eyes widened and the questions fused immediately.

“What! Who?”

“Do you know where they are?”

“When did you see them last? How many are still up there?”

Enid winced at the torrent of questions, but under Wednesday's encouraging gaze, she gulped and managed to articulate an answer. “Two werewolves,” she croaked weakly, “first years…they- they started to wolf out with the panic and I- we tried to help them escape, I swear we did but-”

“But what?” pressed Xavier.

Enid averted her eyes in shame. That’s when you finally noticed how she gripped one of her forearms, and the blood dripping from between her fingers. Someone in the group gasped when they noticed it too.

“You’re bleeding!” shrieked Wednesday – and it was definitely a first to see her lose her temper as she practically forced her girlfriend to sit on the ground. “What happened?”

“I tried to help them,” muttered Enid in a blank voice, like she was too shaken up to register anything else, “I tried to- and they wolfed out and they-”

She didn’t need to explain further for all of you to put two and two together. Glancing up to the sky, you let out a curse at the sight of the bright moon behind the heavy smoke.

“And of fucking course it’s a full moon tonight,” you mumbled. At Tyler and Bianca’s perplexed looks you explained, “Young werewolves tend to wolf out prematurely under intense pressure and aren’t the most reliable. That’s probably what happened with this fire.”

All eyes redirected to Enid, who rocked back and forth mind-absently and face white as a sheet. Seeing younger werewolves she cared for attacked her, knowing they were in a very distressed situation due to both the sudden fire and first wolfing out must have been shaking her to the core more than you thought.

A beat passed ; then you swore under your breath again, cursing yourself mentally.

“Oh what the hell,” you groaned before dropping to one knee in front of the shaken up werewolf, “Enid,” you started with the calmest voice you could put at the moment, “where are those kids’ dorms?”

She lifted eyes full of tears in your direction, wide in shock. “I- what?...”

“Focus Enid,” you insisted more firmly, trying to shut out the screams and roars of the fire only a few meters from you. “Where? Where were the students you saw?”

Enid stared at you for a moment before she managed to articulate, “Second…the second floor of O-ophelia hall.”

You nodded in thanks and rose up, shedding your jacket in the movement. That immediately made Tyler’s worried rise even harder.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Throwing your jacket over your shoulders like a fireproof blanket – a poor one – you did your best to ignore his eyes, “I’m going to get those kids.”

A collective gasp answered you before Tyler grabbed your forearm. Even if you knew you shouldn’t look at him if you wanted to go, you did so anyway. His brown eyes were blown wide in horror and worry.

“You can’t go there! It’s madness, there’s nothing you can do!”

You huffed, “Fucking watch me.” The grin had been a poor attempt to lighten the mood with your usual sarcasm. But your boyfriend’s terrified gaze and trembling hands told you nothing could ease his mind.

“Tyler’s right,” protested Bianca, “let’s wait for the firemen, at least they could help!”

“I’m not letting those kids die,” you headbutted stubbornly. But deep down, you were just equally frightened as everyone else.

“Fuck Y/N, this isn’t about pride, did you see what rabid werewolves did to Enid? You wouldn’t stand a chance!”

A cold feeling of resignation sank in your bones, and you turned to the siren with a serious face. “I’m precisely the only person who can help them,” you said slowly. “This will not be the first time I’d face an early wolf.”

Bianca’s eyes widened, but you cut her worried question short before she even spoke, “There’s other way to calm them than killing, if that’s what you’re worried about. I know it’s a hard thing to ask, but you have to trust a Van Helsing on this one.”

Turning back, you started to walk toward the bruning school. Every second spent on debating silly things of trust was a second of letting innocent young kids in danger.

A hand wrapped around you once again; you didn’t have to turn to know who it was.

“Don’t go,” he whispered in a broken voice. “Please.”

“I can’t let them in there,” you muttered, still avoiding his gaze.

Tyler tugged gently on your hand, making you turn around to face him. He cupped your cheek, but again, you refused to look at him. If you did, you were afraid to lose all strength and hide away like the frightened little girl you once were.

But unfazed by your shifty gaze, Tyler stroked his thumb against your cheek lovingly. “You don’t have to prove yourself,” he whispered in a mix of loving affection and despair – to see you running through those flames. “Please, don’t kill yourself trying to prove anything to them, I beg you.”

The crack of his voice at the end of the sentence finally made you look up at him. Tears gathered at the corner of his eyes, threatening to fall any moment. No matter how this sight broke your heart, you knew you couldn’t go back. “You know I can’t let those kids in there,” you said softly - although you could hear how wavering your words were. “I promised myself I would never let that happen to any kid again.”

Tyler nodded slowly, but the look on his face was one of pure heartbreak, “I know, “ he whispered, “that’s why I can’t watch you go in there again. Never again.”

One of your hands came to gently squeeze the one that was cradling your cheek, and you leaned against it for a moment, closing your eyes and savoring the feeling. The feeling of something wet rolling down your cheek made you open your eyes slowly. Tyler’s eyes were equally wet. Slowly, you gently pulled his hand off your cheek, guiding it back to his side.

“I have to do this,” you said, squeezing his hand softly. “If not for me, for the terrified kids who are still inside.”

Tyler wanted to add something, he truly did. But at your tone, he knew there was no way to make you change your mind. So instead he dove and pressed a hurried and passionate kiss on your lips. You could feel your heart squeeze at the feeling, returning the kiss eagerly. It only lasted a few seconds, then you tore yourself apart from Tyler’s lips, your hand slipping away from his. Despite the overwhelming sadness and heartbreak painted all over his features, he tried to push a small smile on his face.

“I love you.”

This sent another squeeze to your heart – both painful and loving. “I love you too, Ty.”

Turning away from him, you started to hurry to the flaming building, until you heard him call out for you one last time.

“Don’t try to be the hero!”

A small smirk tugged your lips, and you looked back above your shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” you shouted with a slightly cracking voice, tainted with fake assurance, “I never am!”

And so you dived into an opened window of the blazing building.

[Part.10] [COMING SOON]

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topazy · 2 years ago

Text

Inside, outside

Pairings: 10k x reader, Addy Carver x sister reader

Warnings: Swearing, child death

Chapter: 4.10

You shake your head, watching as Warren storms on ahead, not stopping to take a much needed break. She was leading you towards something called the black rainbow; not that any of you knew what it meant, but she had currently led you into a large open field in the middle of the country.

Rolling your eyes, you rub at your forehead, feeling a headache come on, most likely caused by a lack of food, water, and sleep or by Murphy continuing to moan. You walk forward to get further away from his irritating voice and unintentionally listen in on 10k and Sarge’s conversation.

“What was it like being in the Marines?”

“I'm still a Marine,” Sarge beams at him. “I reckon I’ll die as one. They were my family. After they rescued me from my old family, they gave me something to live for other than myself. Still does. What about you? What keeps you going, ten thousand?”

“My girl.”

A woozy feeling builds up in your stomach, and your face flushes red. You know 10k loves you, but he doesn’t talk much openly to others about his feelings, so hearing how much he says that causes your heart to speed up.

“Getting her to Newmerica is the goal. At least there we can find a new home and start fresh.”

No missions, no saving the world, no Murphy. No matter how hard he tried, 10k couldn’t let go of the things you'd been through together.

“You know that’s back that way, right?” Sarge looks at him confused.

“Yeah, but if history has taught me anything, it is that following Warren is our safest bet, and it will get us where we need to be.”

“Disgusting, isn’t it?”

You jump in surprise when Murphy appears behind you, scowling. Knowing he’s talking about what 10k just said, you flip him off and say, “Shut up, Alvin.”

He scoffs, “Alvin? Who pissed in the cornflakes this morning?”

Doc puts his arm around your shoulder and says, “Don’t listen to him; he’s old and jealous of you young kids in love.”

“Pfft love, that’s what they're calling it.”

Usually you don’t rise to Murphy’s teasing, and by the look on Doc’s face, you know you shouldn’t, but you snap back at him. “You wouldn’t recognise it because you’ve never been in it.”

“Of course I have,” Murphy says, clearing his throat. “Trust me, you’ll fall in and out of it quicker than I ever did.”

Doc quickly changes the subject to avoid saying anything else. The last few days, Murphy had been more belligerent than usual, taking every opportunity he could to cause an argument. You didn’t know what his issue was, but the way he kept staring at Warren suggests it somehow related to her.

—

The first building you come across is one that you’d been in previously, years before, and returning brought back memories of Red and 5K.

Tellers lab.

The air feels tense as you walk along the outside of the building, the silence only broken by Murphy asking the question you were too afraid to ask. “Warren? Why the hell did you bring us back here?”

She hesitates before answering, “I don’t know. But I intend to find out.”

The grounds of the building are scattered with dead bodies, and Sarge looks around confused. “What in the holy heck happened here?”

“We tried to help some people, but it didn’t work out.” You say, biting on your lower lip, remembering all the people who died. You turn around and see something moving fast—“Z incoming!”

The last time you were at the lab, someone had put metal helmets on Zs, making them merciless proof. 10k manages to trip the Z up with a metal chain, causing Doc to let out a loud laugh.

“Stop playing with that damn thing!” Warren orders before tossing a piece of metal in the opposite direction for the Z to chase. “All right, everybody suits up.”

—

Wearing a suit that was on a dead body moments before felt disgusting. Thinking about it makes your skin crawl.

You look up, feeling a hand on your back, to see 10k giving you a sad smile and asking, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?”

“No,” he chuckled softly, pulling you to your feet. “But I will be once we leave this place.

“Good because I was lying.”

You follow the others and head inside the lab, which is now covered in dampness and has what looks like a fungus growing on the walls. Warren claimed she was searching for batteries, but you didn’t believe her.

The further into the building you went, the darker it got, with the only light coming from your torches, which is how you, 10k, and Warren got separated from the others. You watch bewildered as Warren automatically knows how to find the secret rooms and codes to enter them. Well, most of them.

Warren, try shaking her shoulder. “Warren!”

She looks hypnotized while trying to figure out different padlock codes for what looks like a metallic freezer with lots of chains and locks around it. Warren mumbles to herself, managing to get some of them off.

You and 10k share a look of concern when a rattling sound comes from outside. Seconds later, a Z burst through the door; it knocked you to the ground and pinned you against the wall.

“Warren!”

She suddenly grabs a chain and smacks the Z on the head with it, saying, “I show you mercy.” She drops the chain to the ground and then looks at the 10k, confused. “What are you doing here?”

“We were following you.”

She looks around the room and asks, “What am I doing here?”

“You were trying to get into that,” you say, getting to your feet and pointing to the metallic object. “I think you were having one of your visions.”

The lights in the room start to flicker as a beeping noise goes off. 10k watches as she struggles to remove the chains. “You knew the combination to all the other locks. You're on the last one.”

“I don’t remember,” Warren walks up to 10k. “Hit me.”

“What?”

“Hit me. Sometimes fighting triggers the dream. Hit me.”

You look between them and say, “I’ll do it.”

“No offense, but I think our boy here is a little bit stronger than you.”

“I don’t know. I think you should let Astra do it.”

“Come on!” Warren rolls her eyes. “Don’t sissy out, just hit me.”

10K very lightly hits her cheek; his cheeks flush with embarrassment at how weak the slap was. It was obvious he didn’t want to hurt her.

“Hit me.” 10k goes to move his hand again, but Warren catches his wrist, squeezing it tightly. “Harder!”

You push 10k aside and punch Warren in the face, knocking her to the ground. You both look down. “Shit, I think that might leave a bruise.”

10K bites on his lip, looking down at her then back at you, “Any unresolved issues I need to know about?”

You shake your head, trying to laugh it off. In truth, you adored Warren and had a lot of respect for her, but all the rage you felt when she wanted to leave 10k behind when he fell out of the boat or hurt him to get information about Murphy came flooding back at once.

Minutes later, Warren wakes up, knowing the code, and unlocks the final padlock. She opens the door and puts her hand through a thick layer of slime and goo, pulling out three metal objects, including a transmitter.

She looks back at you and says, “Let’s go.”

—

You meet up with the others, who are gathered around a test tube that has a little boy trapped inside it. His body is frozen inside, but his mind is still alive. Sarge tried to split the power from a battery so that the power for the tank stays on, keeping the little boy alive, and so Warren has enough to get a radio working.

Amazingly, it works, and you managed to make contact with Citizen Z, who had information on the black rainbow. Hearing his voice was good; you always worried something bad had happened to him whenever he went silent for too long.

“Kaya’s been drilling down into deep storage looking for anything black and rainbow.”

“Did you find anything?”

“We had intruders here, zona soldiers. They copied all the black-and-white files, then wiped the servers. They also used a secure NSA hardline to spoof into the NORAD computers. They logged onto the administrator account for a defunct weapons program. Guess what it was called.”

“Black rainbow.”

“What is a black rainbow?” Warren asks.

“You won’t believe…”

The radio cuts out before you can hear Kaya’s answer. The only way to get the radio to work again is by turning the tank with the kid in it off, which means turning off his life support. Your group starts to debate what to do; Sarge wants to somehow save the boy, while Murphy wants to show him mercy. It was a difficult decision to make, but the kid was already dead; his brain was only functioning because of a machine, which was incredibly cruel considering he would never move, talk, or be remotely human again.

Warren makes the tough call and orders Sarge to divert the power to the radio, but when she’s unable to do it, you step in. You put your arm around Sarge and said, “She can’t do this.”

Warren nods and takes over, granting the young child mercy before turning his power off. When the power is diverted back to the radio and you are able to make contact with Citizen Z again, you learn that Black Rainbow is a biological weapon of mass destruction.

And the only way to stop it from being blasted was by getting the president of the United States' thumbprint and resetting the missile at the launch site.

Shit, nothing is ever going to be easy.

—

The car ride towards Washington is tense; everyone is still reeling from what happened at the lab and the information you’d found out about Black Rainbow. You sit in the back of the truck in between Doc and 10k, trying not to fall asleep. Your fingers play with 10k’s hair as he sleeps with his head resting on your lap.

While driving, Sarge motions to the sky and says, “It’s a beautiful sunset.”

“It’s only beautiful if someone is there to watch it,” Warren says bluntly.

“That’s not true,” you say quietly. “The world is still full of beautiful things we can’t see; it’s just a little harder to notice now.”

#z nation #inside outisde #10k x reader #10k x you #z nation 10k #z nation fanfiction #z nation fandom #10k z nation #z nation x reader #z nation fanfic #z nation warren #sarge z nation #murphy z nation #doc z nation #10k/reader #10k/you

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bingo6776 · 2 years ago

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people say she's bad (but they don't see the way she is with me)

wednesday addams x enid sinclair

1.1k

enids had a long day. cuddling ensues.

Enid was just about ready to throw herself off of her balcony.

Her day had been seven different kinds of difficult and gruelling, it was a downright fucking mission to get through.

Firstly, she had forgotten her history essay on ‘Werewolf and Vampire Relations in the 18th century’ which she personally thought was saving her from a lot of unnecessary boredom, and saving her girlfriend, Wednesday, from a lot of well deserved complaining. Detention.

And then it was the personal vendetta her teachers had against her today, as if they had met up before classes and decided to throw the most complex questions they could at her. And when she couldn’t answer any? “Detention for [her] lack of attention.” Her teachers were aspiring poets, what could she say?

Fencing consisted of Yoko beating her repeatedly again, and again, and again. Simply because, although the werewolf was physically stronger, the vampire had literally had decades to perfect her skill. It was heavily unfair, in Enid’s opinion.

But mostly she just missed Wednesday. She’d had hardly been able to see the smaller girl all day. Whenever Enid had seen an opening to talk to her girlfriend during lunch, she was whisked away by her never ending social groups or stopped to talk about her numerous clubs, person after person demanding her attention.

The werewolf was surprised she hadn’t wolfed out ten times over with how infuriating it had been to be this close to finally hearing Wednesday’s voice just to be yanked back by people she currently really did not want to talk to.

With that in mind, who can blame her if when her detention had finally ended she practically ran towards her room, praying Wednesday didn’t have any more leads she needed to follow up about her “gloriously furtive” – Wednesdays words, not hers – stalker.

Feeling as if her entire body was vibrating as she pushed the door open with such force it flung back at her, she quickly dropped her bag on the floor and threw her blazer in the direction of her bed.

“Wednesday!” she called, excitement seeping from her very pores. All she wanted to do was wrestle her girlfriend into cuddling her to sleep as she did every night. Wednesday could pretend she didn’t like it, but Enid knew the girl loved it as much as she did. It was routine at this point.

Aaaaaand, with how her day was going, Enid was not at all surprised to see that the goth was missing from the room.

‘great’ Enid felt as if her entire body had slumped, looking like a dog with its tail between its legs, she threw on pyjamas and decided to just go to sleep at a disgustingly early time and hope for a better day tomorrow.

---

The slow creak of the door pulled Enid from her less than peaceful sleep, sitting up with her heavy feeling eyes struggling to see in the dark.

“Wends?” fuck, she sounded like shed just woken up after sleeping for decades. Why is my throat so God damn dry?

“Go back to sleep, Enid. It’s almost midnight.”

At the sound of her girlfriends whispered voice, Enid felt a small smile pull at her lips. And if anyone calls her a simp for missing her girlfriends voice then she wouldn’t even try to deny it.

Enid reached over to turn on the lamp that sat on her desk, her eyes immediately landing on Wednesday as the psychic moved around the room doing God knows what.

“I missed you today.”

“I saw you this morning,” Wednesday quickly looked over her shoulder, at seeing how tired – no – exhausted Enid looked she muttered a small “I missed you also.”

With a dramatic sigh, as if all was suddenly right in the world, the blonde hauled herself from her bed, making the short walk to Wednesday’s side before unceremoniously flopping down onto the much darker bed, pushing her face deeply into Wednesday’s pillow – being a werewolf wasn’t all that bad if it was this easy to revel in the array of smells that made up Wednesday, it was all dusty books, and ink, and blood and Enid loved it. Simply could not get enough of the scent.

Wednesday had watched Enid’s short journey from her own bed to usurping Wednesday’s. Normally she would at least act as if she didn’t want Enid in her bed – she always did, she often spent the nights they didn’t share a bed missing the warmth Enid filled her with. It was truly revolting.

But after seeing how drained Enid had been, she simply climbed into the bed next to her girlfriend, wrapping a tentative arm around the taller girls waist, pulling her closer so they’re bodies where touching in every way they could.

“What, no declarations of how the oh so mighty Wednesday Addams does not, under any circumstances cuddle?”

“If you insist on mocking me, I am more than prepared to let you go back to your own bed, Sinclair.” Yet, despite her words, Wednesday placed a soft kiss on the back of Enid’s neck.

“Nah, I know you missed me too much today, Wends. Our separation today has truly wounded my cardiac organ, it was an astonishing surprise when I had emerged from my day unscathed,” Enid struggled to hold in her laugh at what she considered to be a very accurate Wednesday imitation – because it was – whilst Wednesday dug her fingertips harshly into Enid’s side, making the werewolf let out a puppy like ‘yelp’.

“I warned you that if you were to do such a disgraceful imitation of me again, you’d wake up with Wolfsbane stuffed down your throat,” Wednesday growled, fighting to keep the smirk off her face at how impressed her girlfriend sounded with herself. “My family quite enjoys stuffed werewolf, actually. It would please Pugsley to have such a delicacy.”

At that, Enid spun around, Wednesday’s arm still tightly around her body, keeping them pressed flush against each other.

“You’re joking, right, Willa? Because that sounds like an Addams thing to do, and I don’t want to wake up at yours next break with Pugsley chewing at my ankles.”

Wednesday simply closed her eyes in lieu of a response, placing her head in the crook of the blonde’s neck.

“Wednesday, I’m serious.”

“As am I, Cara Mia,” no, she wasn’t, but this was far more amusing. “It’s late, and if you are not asleep soon, I’m forcing you back to your own bed.”

A snort left Enid’s mouth at the obviously fake threat, “I love you, you little demon.”

Now, Wednesday Addams did not do soft, and she most certainly did not do sweet, but despite it all she pulled Enid impossibly closer, held her even tighter. And against her better judgement replied with a soft, yet firm, “I love you more, my love.”

Yeah, she was whipped.

#wednesday addams #wednesday #wendesday netflix #wednesday addams x enid sinclair #enid sinclair #wenclair #jenna ortega #emma myers

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bwritesbooks · 4 months ago

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Emerging from my cage to give you a snippet from my novel. For context, Taka is a half-orc with black hair, violet eyes, and grey skin. Isolda is a halfling with tan skin, shaved black hair, and black eyes. They have recently been at a party thrown by a group of elven nomads. Before this, they were on a quest. They had to pause for spoiler reasons.

As the night wore on Isolda and Taka spun and swayed. Drank and talked. Neither of them had ever cared less about the time that was passing or what the people around them were doing. Though they had known each other for two weeks they both felt as though they were meeting eachother for the first time. Taka discovered that Isolda loved animals and that she was fascinated by all of the new ones she had seen since leaving her family’s boat. Isolda learned that Taka had a fondness for pastries and was determined to learn to cook them even though most of her attempts had ended in failure. In those hours, the world narrowed to a single point that only the two of them lived within. Eventually, giddy with drink and freedom from care, Isolda took Taka’s hand and led her off towards the woods.

“Wait, where are we going?” Taka asked, less because she actually cared and more because it felt like something she should say.

“You’ll see,” Isolda replied, laughing lightly and tugging Taka’s hand to make her go faster.

It felt like it had been years since she had been this happy. It almost felt inappropriate in the face of everything that had happened and all that was yet to come, but, for once, Isolda did not care. She did not feel the pressures of duty creeping up behind her nor does she fear what her parents will say when she returns to them. Right now, nothing matters, but Taka’s hand in hers. She leads Taka to a grove filled with glowing flowers. Once it was a pet project of the previous clan leader’s, but since his passing it has taken on a new life as a sanctuary to the scant few people who still know it is there. By day it looks like nothing more than a particularly lush piece of the woods. Beautiful, but unassuming. By night, it is like a different world.

Taka spun around in a slow circle, taking it all in. Her mouth was open in wonder and Isolda’s heart soared knowing that she was the one who put that smile on her face.

“This is beautiful,” Taka exclaimed. “How did you find this?”

“I couldn’t sleep a few nights ago and I decided to take a walk. I honestly did not want to leave,” she said with a laugh.

“I don’t blame you,” Taka replied. “I would not want to leave either.”

Isolda smiled.

“It is beautiful isn’t it?” she said, but she was not looking at the flowers.

Instead, she stared at Taka’s smile. That smile is such a rare and beautiful thing, she thought to herself. I would give all my gold to keep that smile on her face. A blush rose to Isolda’s cheeks at the thought. The logical part of her brain knew this was a bad idea. She was not to pursue anyone her parents had not already approved and Taka had definitely not been approved. It would only cause trouble if she went against them even more than she already had. Isolda’s heart did not care and it pushed her forward.

“Taka?” she asked.

Taka turned and the light from the flowers caught in her hair like a crown. She directed her smile at Isolda and Isolda felt nervous for perhaps the first time in her life. She stepped closer and took Taka’s hands in hers.

“May I kiss you?” She asked.

Taka’s eyes went wide. If you had asked her two seconds ago what her answer to this question would be she would have said yes, absolutely. Perhaps she would not have answered and simply kissed Isolda as an answer. But now, faced with the chance to actually follow through, all Taka feels is afraid.

“Uh…I…um..” she stuttered her brain short circeting and freezing any answer she could give.

To Isolda, who was already afraid that this was a bad idea, it is as good as a no. Her mind latches onto the hesitation and immediately tells her to back off. This was a bad idea. It was too fast. For the gods’ sake, she and Taka were hardly even friends yesterday. Suddenly all of the peace and joy she had been feeling was replaced with anger. Anger at herself for even trying this. Anger at Taka for being so pretty. Anger at the world for not being fair.

“I..I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m going too fast. I shouldn’t have…”

Isolda looked uo to see that Taka was already gone. So overwhelmed that she had fled the woods like a monster was on her tail.

“Taka wait!” Isolda shoughted at her retreating back.

But Taka was already gone.

“Minska!” Isolda cursed.

Then she slid down with her back to a tree and began to cry.

#my writing #writblr #realm of the wishmakers #writblr comunity #taka #isolda #about my writing

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spacenutspod · 1 year ago

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5 min read NASA’s Modern History Makers: Maricela Lizcano Maricela Lizcano poses inside NASA Glenn Research Center’s Aerospace Communications Facility.Credit: NASA/Bridget Caswell >back to gallery Maricela Lizcano never dreamed of working for NASA. In fact, she wasn’t planning on furthering her education until she had a revelation in her late twenties. “I was watching one of those forensic shows, and I loved the way they caught the criminals with science,” said Lizcano, research materials engineer at NASA’s Glenn Research Center in Cleveland. “I wanted to be able to do that. I realized I should be studying science and engineering.” It took Lizcano about ten years to prepare mentally and financially to go back to school, and during that time, she received some startling news. “I found out that I was losing my sight, and it was very scary,” Lizcano said. “I think that was one of the things that tossed me off the rails. I had so many questions: ‘What am I going to do? How am I going to work or go to school? How quickly am I losing my vision?’ There were no answers.” Lizcano was diagnosed with Stargardt disease, a rare genetic eye disease that occurs when fatty material builds up on the macula — the small part of the retina needed for sharp, central vision. “My Stargardt disease started on the outer edges of my macula, and over time, it grew to the center,” Lizcano said. “By the time I was 45 years old, it had pretty much taken all of my central vision, and now I rely on my peripheral vision to see.” Eventually, Lizcano viewed this as another obstacle to hurdle, no different from any others she had experienced in her life. She attended the University of Texas–Pan American, now called the University of Texas Rio Grande Valley. She started during a second summer session, easing her way to full-time attendance while also holding a job. Because of her new disability, she couldn’t see what professors were writing on the board. She taught herself to listen intently to the topics being discussed in the lecture, then after class, she read the textbook and rewrote the lecture notes using special magnification tools. “It took that much longer, but you learn to adapt,” Lizcano said. “There are certain skills you develop because of the changes you have to make when you have a disability. I learned that I really have to listen.” After five years, Lizcano completed her mechanical engineering degree. She didn’t get a job right away after graduation, so she continued her education and earned master’s and doctorate degrees. “I can’t just look at my disability as some great thing that I really had to overcome,” Lizcano said. “I think a lot of people overcome many obstacles because we are driven by the desire to achieve things. You don’t see the challenges as challenges, you just see them as something to conquer to get to your goal.” In 2010, former President Barack Obama signed an executive order to increase federal employment of individuals with disabilities. The executive order directed executive departments and agencies to improve their efforts to employ workers with disabilities through increased recruitment, hiring, and retention of these individuals. “Through the Workforce Recruitment Program, I had the opportunity to interview with representatives from federal agencies,” Lizcano said. “I heard nothing for a long time, but then suddenly I got an email from NASA Glenn asking if I’d present my research.” She accepted a job as a research materials engineer and now leads a team working on high-voltage materials for electrified aircraft. She collaborates with various universities to develop composite insulation materials and lightweight conductors. Even now working at NASA, Lizcano faces challenges that she finds ways to overcome. She depends on her fellow colleagues to carpool to work and accessibility tools — like the magnifier app — to use her computer. “Understanding my needs allowed me to get over the fact that I lost my independence,” Lizcano said. “It was a mind shift to be all right with asking for help.” Lizcano’s recommends a science, technology, engineering, and mathematics career to anyone looking for a challenge or excitement. “We’re always solving problems. If you’re one of those people who really wants to make a difference in the world, STEM careers are a good place to start,” Lizcano said. “Any challenge that you may have in result of a disability is no different than the challenge you’re trying to solve, and it will give you the motivation and unique skills you need to be successful.” NASA is in a Golden Era of aeronautics and space exploration. In partnership with commercial and private businesses, NASA is currently making history with significant missions such as Artemis, Quesst, and electrified aviation. The NASA’s Modern History Makers series highlights members of NASA Glenn’s workforce who make these remarkable missions possible. Jacqueline MinerdNASA’s Glenn Research Center Explore More 6 min read Lynn Bassford Prioritizes Learning as a Hubble Mission Manager Lynn Bassford levels decades of experience and a desire for self-growth as she helps lead… Article 7 days ago 1 min read Dr. Guy Bluford Reflects on 40th Anniversary of Historic Shuttle Flight Article 1 week ago 3 min read Glenn in the Community Article 1 week ago

#space #astronomy #news #science

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survivingpierce · 5 months ago

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she was extremely uncomfortable to be seen in this condition, making her even more vulnerable than she already is. it was visible proof that things had changed immensely but she just couldn't stop that deep sadness (and fright) she felt. katherine couldn't even muster up looking at stefan when he directed her gaze in his direction because she was scared, perhaps even ashamed, of what he was going to see. it took her a while to lead her teary gaze at his face that didn't, thankfully, show any glee at all. she knew that couldn't expected from everyone.

the brunette was deeply surprised when stefan leaned down and gave her a gentle kiss. katherine had not expected this and involuntarily a sob escaped her because for undefined reasons that gesture touched her and broke her heart at the same time.

"don't promise something you can't keep..." she whispered, her eyes lowered because she could again not muster to look stefan in his eyes, especially not after being intimate in that special way. and yes, one would argue that this isn't intimate at all but for katherine, this kiss, the way he brushed her lips against his, and the following peck was a special, very vulnerable way of being intimate.

the question, even if he needed a moment to formulate it correctly, came unexpectedly and she wiped the back of her hand over her face again. was that a question he wanted answered before she couldn’t anymore? she certainly didn't feel like dwelling even more in a time she couldn't have anymore. a time when she was happy, when she was strong. a time when she wasn't cribbled with human problems.

"damon was ... exciting, adventurous, passionate. he didn’t care about conventions and was trying to get my attention even though he knew i had already put my eyes on you. i was spoiled, i loved the attention, the way of being desired. he was determined and suited my fiery nature, accepting me as i was ... as i truly was. i didn't need ... i didn't need to compel him." she has loved damon because of that. nonetheless, damon was not only full of good things, but he could also be suffocating and sometimes pushed her on without her wanting to.

"you always were the perfect gentleman. you were proper, a man with manners. your love was pure. you considered me an angel before i showed you what i truly was – trait-wise and nature-wise. it’s not in my nature to follow rules or submit to people. i need some excitement, some thrill. but most importantly you were ... afraid of me when i showed you what i am. your angel turned into a demon and i was not sure if you could love me like you had before. this side of me seemed to be nothing ... nothing you desired." it was wrong of her to compel his fright away, to force his acceptance; she knows that. damon or not, katherine always had a preference for stefan. she loved them both for different reasons and in her own way but her feelings for stefan always had been stronger.

"how can i choose if i had to fear that you didn't love me enough?" how can she choose if she knew there was a high chance that he only still engaged with her after her revelation because of the compulsion? stefan had reacted so differently than damon. he was appalled. frightened. and overall seemed to love her 'proper' side, not the wild one. how could she make a choice, especially in comparison to damon who loved her too much; a love that sometimes was almost obsessive?

katherine wiped over her eyes again, still staring at anything but stefan. "at least i don’t have to take that with me into the grave..."

as much as he hated to admit it, seeing katherine in such a light brought him back to 1864 ; to when he believed she was an angel, to when he believed she was innocent, loving. naturally, he could see that humanity was quite literally ripping her apart — and he hated that. the younger salvatore brother hated that elena had made such a choice : the easy choice. stefan knew katherine had made her life difficult in many occasions, but this was not the way to go about it.

sitting next to her, he leans forward, elbows digging into his thighs as he glanced over at her. he couldn't help it. she looked like she needed comfort, and a hug was the least he could offer. her indecisiveness only makes it harder. katherine was never indecisive. she knew what she wanted and took it — not anymore. ❛ hey, ❜ stefan reached out his hand, fingers grabbing on to her chin and he directs her gaze towards him.

maybe it wasn't right — maybe it was — but impulse led him to make such a decision. stefan leans in to press his lips to hers softly. maybe, just maybe, she'd feel a little more reassured. he was there with her, and he always would have been had she made the one choice instead of picking the sibling duo. ❛ i won't let anything happen to you. ❜ stefan promises, lips brushing lightly against hers before he leans in for another peck. ❛ trust me. ❜ he requests, knowing that such didn't come easily with the petrova doppelganger.

❛ why... ❜ this moment just felt the most appropriate to get such answer. ❛ we could have had it all... together. just— why didn't you choose me? just me. ❜ that was all he had wanted : to have katherine to himself, but she hadn't wanted such, which eventually led her to losing both brothers, assumingly. now, as he confronts her and ultimately unveils the fact his feelings had not simply been forgotten, stefan is reminded that their days may be numbered if he doesn't find a way to save her. how... cruel.

#stefcns #stefan #♕ v: cured #♕ the cute one’s here ▬ interactions

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imthebadguyyy · 3 years ago

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maybe something like interviewer asking her sexist questions and the boys stand up for her , after that interview she feels insecure and the boys comfort her . that's just an idea you don't have to write it !! <33

I hope you like it, and I'm so sorry about the delay 😭 I couldn't find my footing with this one, and I hope it's what you wanted ! Have a lovely day 💙

The One Where They're There For Her

Pairing - One Direction x Reader (6thmember!female!reader)

Fandom - One Direction (Directioners)

Summary - A particularly sexist interview decides to reduce you to just a sexual being and makes no effort to hide his misogyny. But the boys are there to support you.

Warnings - sexualization of the lgbt community, sexist comments, swearing, (honestly I hated myself for writing some of the comments here,and I'm so sorry)

Being a part of the biggest band in the world comes with certain responsibilities. Not responsibilities that come along with signing a recording contract, but those that a person deems themselves responsible for. For example, as the only female in a boyband, a female with a fanbase as large as yours, you took it upon yourself to always stand up for what's right, and to be an ally for the causes close to your heart.

That meant that your social media was often flooded with information about important causes, or your opinions on issues like feminism. Was it always well received? Heck no. There were people filled your feed with hate and comments calling you the most horrible names and labelling you a 'man hater' and a 'bitch' But you didn't let it get to you. On most days. On days like today, it was all you could do to keep it together. It had been a tiring few days, touring, recording, performing and doing an endless amount of interviews and photoshoots. It was safe to say you were on the last of your nerves, having battled your way through a makeup artist who had insisted on pointing out your flaws and had used a shit ton of makeup to cover them up. You had battled a photographer who had not hesitated to tell you that if you didn't look more feminine people would think you were turning into a man.

Before you could retaliate, Paul had dragged him away and told management to cancel the photoshoot, and find another photographer before grabbing the six of you some sandwiches and had let you all go back for a quick power nap at the hotel. Then in about half an hour he had woken you up, to get you ready for another interview. That's how you were here, in a white jumpsuit and a black blazer jacket, paired with black heels. Another day, another interviewer that got on your nerves. But this one, this one was different. This interviewer was different, but also the same. Another misogynistic man who thought he was entitled to stare at your ass and cleavage, and eye fuck you as you settled into a seat in between Niall and Zayn.

Settling in, you crossed one knee over the other, plastering a fake smile onto your face, as the man leaned back in his chair, throwing you a sleazy smirk. Noticing the look, Zayn shifted so you were out of view of the interviewer, but in view of the audience. It was in moments like this that you were a 100× more grateful to have your boys. They were well aware of how sleazy some interviewers could be, having had plenty of experience with them, and Zayn and Louis in particular were very protective about the way you were treated. Squeezing your thigh softly, he leaned back a little, lips settling into a thin line as he looked at the interviewer with a cold look. A little behind, Louis threw the interviewer a dirty look.

"So, One Direction! Congratulations on the album, as you all know its out on November the 22nd, with eighteen new songs, including the singles Night Changes and Steal My Girl Speaking of stealing girls, do you think I could steal your number Y/N? And may I mention, you look ver, very hot in that outfit" The interviewer joked, throwing you what he thought was a sexy smirk. (P.S - it wasn't) Answering with an awkward laugh, you shook your head, as Niall tensed up beside you. "Aww come on, your'e a pretty girl, I'm a handsome guy, let's go out sometime" he pressed on, ignoring the growing anger in Harry's eyes. "That's umm, nice. But no thanks, I'm not going to go out with you" was your answer, as you pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. Picking up on your nervous tic, Zayn moved his hand to rest on your knee, stopping it from bouncing up and down.

"Aww come on baby, what is it? You like girls or something? Because I wouldn't mind being a part of that action either" the sleazebag chuckled, ignoring the disgusted look Liam sent his way. "That's rude" Liam said, while Zayn tightened his grip on your knee. "Oh come on lads, are you telling me the idea doesn't appeal to you? Two women together, mm, makes me all excited just thinking about it, especially if one of them's Y/N" That comment was all it took for Louis to stand up, turning to the man and saying in a voice much rougher than his usual voice, "Alright, that's fuckin' enough, what the fuck is actually wrong with you?" he was backed up by Liam, who stood up, going to tower over the interviewer, whose eyes had lost some of the sleazy look in them. "All you've done since we walked in here is make those disgusting comments about Y/N, and it's sickening. Have some fucking respect" he practically spat.

Behind him, Zayn took your hand in his and pulled you to your feet, noticing the slight glossiness in them, leading you back to the dressing rooms, while Niall, Liam, Louis and Harry stayed back to continue to snap at the interviewer. "That is no way to treat a woman, and not only are you disrespecting her, you also made those god awful events about seeing women together. Your'e a shame to every single person in this room by talking like that" Harry continued, glancing over his shoulder to check if you were okay.

"And no, it doesn't excite us, because we are not assholes, and you are, a disgusting sleaze who does not deserve the job he has. Fuckin loser" Niall chimed in, standing up and storming out. Louis stood up as well, turning to directly face the cameras and the cameramen and sound technicians, who had all looked shocked when the man had made his comments towards you. "I sure as hell hope you have that on record, so you can see just how fucking sexist this industry is to women. Y/N does the same job as us, works just as hard and has the same number of awards, nominations, and records and yet you decide to only focus on her body, clothes, love life and sexuality. Get a fucking life" he spat at the camera, before walking away himself, eventually followed by Harry and Liam, who apologized to the outraged fans before leaving themselves. As they made their way to the dressing rooms they could hear the audience telling the interviewer to apologize to you, their anger at the way you were treated echoing through the building.

Walking in, Harry caught sigh of you curled up in one of the armchairs, with Louis sitting beside you, while Niall and Zayn talked to a furious Paul. "He had no damn right to treat her like shite, and you need to make sure that he knows those comments were un-fuckin-acceptable" Niall was saying, looking angrier than Harry had ever seen him. "And to make those sickening comments about wanting to get action? Can't we sue him for something?" Was Zayn's reply, glancing over his shoulder at you to make sure you were still okay. "We can't sue him, atleast I don't think we can, but I'll have someone let the smug bastard know that he needs to learn how to respect a woman" Paul said, before leaving the room to give the six of you some time together before you had to head back to the hotel.

"How're you feeling darling?" Louis said, moving over and patting your knee so you moved. "I'm okay" you mumbled back, letting Louis settle in next to you, leaning back to rest on his chest. "He had no fuckin right to say any of that, and don't you let it trouble you for a second" Zayn added, pouring out a cup of tea for you and for Louis and Harry. "I don't care about what he said, I couldn't care less, but it was just so frustrating, sitting there and listening to him just sexualize a whole community of people. You've got to be in a really sad place to think of shit like that. That's what annoyed me. You think I give a damn about what he said about my clothes or wanting to take me out on a date? It was the way he was talking, like he was sure any woman would be glad to have him that irked me. He's really tiresome" was your reply, as you reached forward for a sip of your tea. "That's the right attitude love. Haters gonna hate" Harry said.

"I know that. But I just wish I could punch him once, which sounds mean, but he does kind of deserve it" Niall said, earning a laugh from you. Niall was never usually aggressive, and even now, he wasn't particularly rude but it was rare to see him wanting to punch someone. "It's okay Niall, you don't have to. I can do it myself, but I won't" you replied, leaning up to squeeze his hand. "Besides, Ni, if you went and punched him, I'd do it too, and then we'd all go to jail" Liam chimed in, scrolling through his twitter. "Twitter isn't happy either babe. #stopsexualization and #Y/Ndeservesbetter is trending already" he added, showing you his phone. "If it means some of these sexist asses get their heads out of the sand, I'm happy. But I dont want to to think about it now" you replied, cuddling closer to the warmth radiating from Louis's body.

"Okay, we won't talk about it. Do you want to go back to the hotel?" Harry asked, standing up and walking to the door "No I want to go to Nando's. Anybody else hungry?" You asked, to nods of assent from the boys. "I'm starving. Those stupid sandwiches didn't fill me up at all" Zayn said, standing up to grab his coat and wallet. "I know and I'm craving some hot Peri Peri chicken with some fries. Do you think they'd let me put the lemon and herb sauce on the fries?" You asked, standing up yourself, earning a laugh from Louis. "Your'e an international superstar babe, I think they'd give you some lemon herb sauce" Liam joked.

Laughing, the six of you made your way to the car, with Harry and Niall squishing you in between them, as Louis sat in the back with Liam, and Zayn sat in the front with Paul (he was driving thank GOD) "I'm proud of you darling" Harry chimed in suddenly. "I am too" Niall added. "You know I am" Louis said, before Liam added "Always babe" and Zayn turned to smile at you before adding, "We are all proud of you, and we always will be, not only because you do a damn good job of not listening to the haters, but because you do what you think is right" "Awh come on, your'e gonna make me cry" you mumbled, leaning into Niall's shoulder. "Almost makes me feel bad for teasing you about having an extremely low spice tolerance the last time we were at Nando's Haz" you smirked, earning a roar of laughter from the boys.

"That chicken was spicy love!" "It was lemon and herb with no peri peri!" "And it was spicy!"

And just like that, you were back to messing around with each other. Sleazy interviewers would come and go, but your boys were always there to support you. Always.

-------

A/N - Thanks for reading ! I'd also like to apologize on the behalf of this fictitious interviewer I made up, I felt so bad while writing some of this 😭 anyways, I hope this is what you wanted! Enjoy !

Tags - @zaynkissbot @gucci-hazza @bxtchboy69

#one direction x reader #one direction x sixth member #one direction imagines #one direction fanfiction #one direction #harry styles x reader #liam payne x reader #louis tomlinson x reader #niall horan x reader #zayn malik x reader #imthebadguyyytags #harry styles #niall horan #liam payne #louis tomlinson #zayn malik

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scarletwinterxx · 3 years ago

Text

I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this - haechan imagine

hi! so i’m back. I’ve been swarmed with work these past few weeks and couldn’t get some writing done. finally here’s one and i’m honestly so inlove with this🥺💛

Like always i appreciate all your support! leave a like/comment here if you have any questions or suggestions!

by the way, I opened a KOFI acc. this is totally optional and if only you want to donate😊 any donation will be highly appreciated or you can just leave a like/comment here💛

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

Age 5

“Okay class, go pick your buddy now” the kids immediately ran to their friends to find their partners, meanwhile you stay seated on your chair. Too shy to even talk to your seatmate who is now standing with her buddy from across the room.

The teacher notices your eyes darting around the room, your lips quivering and hands toying with each other under the table. She was just about to approach you when suddenly one of the boys skipped over to you, “Hey you! Why are you sitting here alone” he asks

“Because this is my chair” you answer, looking up at the boy with curly hair and tanned cheeks

“Do you have a buddy?” you shook your head at him, earning a gleaming smile from the boy

“Okay, then I’ll be your buddy”

He didn’t give you a chance to say no, not that you even had the courage to, all you knew was you earned yourself your class buddy named Lee Donghyuck.

Age 12

“We should head back Hyuck! Your mom will get mad at us!” you tell him for the 5th time, meanwhile the boy was still too busy playing on the swing set

“5 more minutes”

“But your mom said we should be back before dinner” you stomped your feet on the ground, feeling annoyed yet again. Your friend had a knack at defying orders and most of the times he takes you down with him, which means if he gets in trouble you also get in trouble

“It’s not dinner yet, the sun is still up dummy” Hyuck answers, looking up the sky then back at you

Rolling your eyes at him, you turned your back and started to walk away from him. Not even a few steps away you could already hear him chasing after you, “Yah! don’t leave me here, I told your mom I was going to walk you homr” he takes your hand in his, an action so innocent and natural between the two of you but your mother’s always gush about how cute you would look together.

He walks with you in tow, his steps a bit bigger than yours. You always complain to him about how your legs are shorter than his so he should walk slower, of course instead of solving it normally like you suggested Hyuck instead walks behind you and pushes you infront of him urging you to walk faster. Ever since then you learned not complain out loud.

Age 18

“Since when did Haechan looked that cute? Yah why didn’t you tell me your bestfriend is hot? Does he have a girlfriend?” your friend asks you but you didn’t give her a single answer. Not that she’s even paying attention to you. She’s already screaming again, your school’s soccer team leading with 2 points.

The only reason you’re braving the cold cold night breeze was busy leading the team into victory. You watch the number 06 run across the field, hearing his occasional screams at his teammates telling them which direction to go. Even with all the sweat, your friend is right. He did look cute. Which makes you think back to her question, since when did Haechan looked that cute?

Your answer, one you would never tell him straight to his face: he’s always been cute. To you, Hyuck looked like a cute cuddly bear and sometimes he looks like the guy you would daydream about to take you to prom as his date.

Does he have a girlfriend? no, he’s too busy playing the role of star player, class president and life of the party to even think about that. His words not yours.

It’s not the first time you’re asked about his relationship status, it’s a fact known across campus that you’re Haechan’s bestfriend. It’s also pretty obvious since he’s always seen stuck by your side pretty much all the time, that is if he’s not away bothering Renjun.

The loud cheers from your schoolmates shook you out of your thoughts, your attention returning to the game happening in front of you. Coincidentally Hyuck was standing near where you were sitting, the ball was on the farther side of the field, you can spot Jeno and another player from the other team chasing it while Hyuck watches from your side of the field.

As if he could feel your gaze at him, he looks over the bleachers quickly spotting you in the sea of students. His letterman jacket making you look tinier, he chuckles to himself just thinking about how cute you looked.

The other girls hoping the star player looks at them, but little did they know he’s all eyes for you. Tapping his chest where his heart would be thrice, a signal only you would understand. He said he’ll do it to let you know he saw you and that you should keep your eyes on him,

“Aren’t you sounding a bit too cocky? What if I wanted to watch Jeno?” you jokingly asked him, “Then don’t even think about coming”

You laugh at him, the boy just glares at you. “Should I do something too?”

“Shoot me a kiss like this” taking his hand to his lips before blowing it over to you, this time it’s your turn to glare at him.

“You know what, maybe you’re right I just won’t watch your game”

Tapping the center of your forehead thrice, signaling you saw him. He smirks before turning his attention back to the game, leading the team to another victory.

As always you stay back while you wait for him, the rest of the students started to go their own ways for the night. Most of them on their way out to celebrate while others on their way home.

You rest your back on the lockers, hearing some shouts from inside the locker room. Even from the outside you can easily distinguish your bestfriend’s voice, mainly because he’s literally screaming right now.

A couple more minutes passed, you were getting more bored. Looking down at your feet to see one of your shoelaces untied. Just when you’re about to crouch down, someone beat you to it. A mop of brown hair blocking the view of your shoe,

“How many times do I have to tell you, double tie your shoelaces. I can’t be there all the time to do it for you” Hyuck tells you as he ties it back for you, standing back up when he’s done and tapping you on the nose twice

“Took you long enough, why were you screaming bloody murder in there?” you ask him while the two of you walk towards the exit, “I poured a bottle of cold water over Jeno, then he poured the whole jug if ice water on me”

“Deserved”

He bumps his shoulders on yours making you wobble over the side, but he quickly pulls you back by the arm “You’re so mean to me, here I was about to treat you out for dinner”

“Aren’t you going to celebrate with them?” usually they have a party or atleast a dinner out after games, “I’ve been with them the entire month, let me have my moment with you” you chuckle at his reason, not thinking too much of it.

“You love them”

“I love you more”

“In that you have no choice, you literally picked me out of the bunch” you tell him, Hyuck just laughs at the memory of your childhood. Giving his 6 year old self a pat on the head for gathering the courage to talk to you because he thought you were the cutest one in class. Not that he ever admitted that outloud.

“Exactly, so you’re stuck with me whether you like it or not” He opens the passenger door of his car to let you in before jogging over the driver’s side, “Dinner?”

“Please don’t say you want to eat kimchi stew again” you look over at him, the boy doing the same. Neither of you looking away for a few more seconds, a silent bet already happening,

“Fine! but you’re buying me ice cream after” Hyuck throws a punch in the air before starting the car, As promised he did buy you ice cream after dinner, talking about the game while he drives you home

“My friend was asking me if you had a girlfriend”

“Oh that again, what did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything” you mumble, pulling the sleeves of his jacket over your hands since it got colder. Noticing your action, Hyuck turns the heater higher.

“You could’ve just said you’re my girlfriend”

“I’m not doing that again, Jaemin hasn’t stopped teasing me since that” recalling that one time he made you say you’re his girlfriend to make that one girl stop asking him out. Jaemin teased you all week after that, even making kissy noises whenever the two of you were around.

“What’s so bad about dating me?”

You didn’t answer immediately because he’s right, what’s so bad about dating him? he’s funny, he’s smart, he can be a pain in the ass but his intentions are always on the good side. He’s very considerate of people around him, and even though he likes to tease his closest friends you know he’s the first person you’d call if you needed help.

“One, you’re my bestfriend”

“So? friends can’t date each other? I’d date you”

“Okay, filter please.” your eyes almost popping out of its sockets when you heard him say that

“What? It’s true. If I don’t get married by 30, can we just agree to marry each other?” not sure if he’s joking or not, he didn’t sound like he was.

“Do I even have a say in this?”

“Say yes”

“You’re being very weird, first you said you’d date me now you’re asking me to marry you? It’ll take more than dinner for me to say yes” you chose you indulge him this time, your bestfriend chuckling at you. You didn’t even notice you’re already parked outside your house when he turned to look over at you

“Okay, would you like to go out on a date?”

“With you?” you blinked at him, waiting for him to say he’s just kidding or it’s all a joke but he just stared back at you waiting for an answer

“Oh my god you’re not joking”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” he asks, pointing at his face

“You’re always joking”

“Not this time, so do you want to go on a date with me?”

Unlike when you were kids, he’s now giving you the chance to say yes or no. But the answer was clear, it always has been. Deep down you knew he’s the guy you liked, if anybody were to ask you to describe your ideal guy you’ll just list down all of his qualities without meaning to. Hyuck’s your person the same way you are his.

Age 23

“This is your what? Fifth anniversary?” Renjun asks, you’re having dinner out with your friends. A tradition you promised to carry on after high school when you all went your different ways for college.

“I think so”

“You’re not sure?” Jeno asks, “They were pretty much dating since they were six, remember Haechan said Y/N looked cute with her ribbon that day we were asked to pick out our class buddies”

“You thought I looked cute?” you turned to look at your boyfriend/bestfriend to see him glaring at Jaemin, this was news to you. Hyuck turns to you, a fond look on his face instead of the glare he sent Jaemin

“What else do I have to lose, you’re already my girlfriend. Yes I did” you can hear Jaemin squeal from his seat, hitting Jeno on the arms multple times while Renjun fake gags

“Did you know she had a crush on you sophomore year?” You hear Jeno say, this time you’re the one sending a glare at your friend. You can feel Hyuck’s gaze on the side of your face, “Did you now?” he asks you

“I did not!”

“You said he looked cute” Jeno said confidently while Jaemin adds, “I heard her say that too”

“Oh my god, was that why you were sulking during the dance? because he didn’t ask you to be his first dance?” Renjun asks loudly, looking back and forth between you and Hyuck

You were being corned by everyone, not knowing what else to say so you just blurted out the truth you’ve been keeping ever since

“And what if I was? I’m the one dating him now” this made everyone on the table cheer laugh meanwhile your boyfriend just looks at you, turning to look at him

“What?” you mumble

“Nothing, you just look so cute right now”

“Okay, enough with that. You can do that after dinner please”

The rest of dinner went by, sharing stories of your memories together. It was fun to catch up with everyone. When it was time to go, the two of you decided to walk around for a while.

“You could’ve just told me you had a crush on me” you hear Hyuck say from beside you, already expecting him to tease you about it. You’re suprised he held out this long.

“It wasn’t a crush, I just thought you were cute that day and Jaemin just so happened to be the one who heard me”

“And that night of the dance?”

“I thought my bestfriend was going to ask me to dance with him first since you know he was the one who asked me to come. I only came to that stupid dance because you asked me” you told him, a pout forming on your lips as you recall that memory. Meanwhile Hyuck just smiles at you,

“I was too shy to ask you”

“You? Shy?” you looked up him, not expecting him to say that

“Yea, there were a lot of cute guys in our class. Some of them even had a crush on you” again, some of this were new news to you. You were always hanging out with him or the other guys to even notice that.

“They did? why?”

“What do you mean why? Baby, have you seen you? You’re like the prettiest girl in our grade”

“I think you’re forgetting Jimin was in our class” you chuckle, it was a nice compliment but you know for a fact that she was the prettiest girl in your class.

“To me, you were. You’ve always been. When I hear guys from the team or in our class talk about asking you out, I always get this sudden fear you’d say yes to them and forget about me”

You listen to him, your heart turning into mush at your boyfriend’s words.

“Not that I wanted to keep you away from them, of course I wasn’t going to make that decision for you. You could’ve dated whoever you wanted to. Then I think about how none of them will ever treat you the way you deserve, how none of them knew you hated mayonnaise on anything, or how much you love chocolates during that time of the month, or how easily you get cold or how you like your coffee. I listed all those things they didn’t know about you, all the things only I knew, things only you told me”

He stares down at you with so much love, a look you’ve grown familiar with throughout the years.

“I realized I wanted to be guy who deserves you”

“And you are” you smile up at him, standing on your tip toes to kiss him on his chin. Feeling his arm snake around your waist, pulling you infront of him

“Good thing you said yes that day” he mumbles

“When you asked me out on a date?” you asked back, he just shook his head with a smile on. Kissing you on the forehead, then on your nose, then both of your cheeks

“That day when we were in preschool, when I asked you to be my buddy in class”

“Technically, you didn’t ask me to be your buddy. You just asked me if I had one then the thing you were declaring yourself to be buddy”

“Same thing, tomato tomato potato potato”

You roll your eyes at his antics. You know though you won’t have it any other way, your answer will always be the same.

His lips rest against your forehead, feeling him kiss you thrice. Your hand that was resting on his chest, tapping him gently three times where his heart would be.

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msfcatlover · 1 year ago

Note

Hello there! This is the first post I’ve made for the Talon!Jason AU; it’s been sitting on the list in my pinned post for a while, but I always have so many ideas for stories that I have a hard time knowing where to start talking about them; it’s a lot easier to make my thoughts feel coherent when I have something to jump off of, even if that something is just someone else asking “Can you explain this concept?” Which doesn’t make a lot of sense, that I do a better job writing a pitch/summary when asked than I do when trying by myself, but. That’s just how my brain works, I guess.

Questions answered beneath the cut!

Shiela absolutely dies from the explosion. She knows too much, plus it helps explain why “Jason” didn’t manage to escape the bomb. She’s even still alive, just barely, when Bruce arrives from chasing down the false lead the Court planted to keep him away from their meeting. Her last words are, “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t know…” and it’s all Bruce can do to keep from shaking this dying woman when he demands to know where his son is. Shiela is too far gone to be coherent at that point, just echoing Jason’s name before mumbling another apology and slipping into unconsciousness. Leaving Bruce to dig through the still smoldering rubble for a boy who isn’t there. (There’s enough charred meat to roughly match Jason’s body mass, plenty of it fused to the remains of the Robin costume. The blood that was left on the floor is a mix of Jason’s & Shiela’s, with gloved handprints in about Jason’s size with much more of Jason’s blood than Shiela’s on them in the area where the bomb was set. The arm they hacked off was placed in front of the bomb, so that it realistically dispersed when the explosion went off. The whole thing is set up to look like Jason died trying to save his mother.)

How Dick was captured is one of the holes I still haven’t filled. He himself doesn’t know how long he was down there, between the drugs & lack of time markers, and I think the family isn’t 100% sure how long he was gone either (he was taken right after something came up where they wouldn’t expect to see him for a while; a big fight with Bruce, maybe, or taking on an undercover mission.) It took a few days for them to realize Dick had completely fallen off the map. To give my own estimate, I’d say he was down there ~2 weeks, give or take 4 days in either direction. (And oh boy, does the family feel awful that they can’t pin it down further than that!)

Gonna be real with you, I am going vibes-only for how I’m handling Cobb & the Talons in this AU; I might tweak things when I actually get around to reading the Court of Owls plotline/s, but I am halfway through Knightfall right now and I’m going chronologically. So that is a long ways off. I’m going with the popular fanon interpretation where Cobb sorta straddles the line between Owl & Talon. He was the first Talon, and he’s the highest ranking; he’s also so old & so knowledgeable about the Court’s history that he gets a lot of respect from most modern Owls—or at least fear, over having a Talon around who was never broken the way the others are. I couldn’t tell you how many of the Owls have realized Cobb only defers to them because he chooses to (and are too concerned about being seen as trouble if they ever spoke up about it,) and how many are so far up their own asses that they don’t realize he is, in fact, capable of defying them. So Cobb is several steps above every other Talon, but theoretically lower than even the lowest Owl. Except for how he’s an infinitely more valuable resource than almost any individual Owl, not to mention a status symbol for the Court itself, and those who are smart enough to be worried about him are also smart enough to figure that out.

Can you tell me the about the talon jason au?

YES! Yes, yes, yes, yes yes!!!

The Talon!Jason story is really heavily inspired by All Birds Have Talons, a fantastic little oneshot which got my gears churning with possibilities (as well as Talon’s Grasp, my all-time favorite Talon!Dick fic, specifically for how it handles the conditioning & Dick’s escape.) I just… snipped the Joker out altogether, and had Shiela betray Jason to the Court directly. They wanted Robin, after all, and she’d been out of Gotham for so long that even if she had contacts to know about the “wanted alive (or else)” bounty on Dick’s head, she probably wouldn’t know any of the details. She’s embezzling funds, she’s being blackmailed, she’s kinda on the run, and here’s the son she never wanted offering to help her with whatever problem she has, insisting they won’t even need to get his rich new dad involved if she doesn’t want to because Jason can handle himself; she doesn’t need to worry about him, because he’s Robin.

The Joker isn’t involved at all. Shiela calls her old contacts herself.

(CW: heavily referenced if not described brainwashing, torture, medical abuse, dehumanization, and depersonalization ahead.)

They’re not happy. Jason’s not the Robin they want, but he’s seen/heard too much once Shiela tricks him into the meeting, and they might as well get something out of this meeting. They fake Jason’s death with Shiela, the bomb, flesh too charred to get a DNA reading off of, a dangerous amount of blood, and hack off one of Jason’s arms before pumping him full of experimental healing drugs so they can stick a new one on and don’t end up with a one-armed Talon. (It never connects quite right, and Jason is always a little clumsier and a little bit number on that side.)

Jason wakes up in the labyrinth, fighting off the drugs & shock, with an arm that looks dead, doesn’t move right, and that he knows he should not have anymore. He’s not ready, his body isn’t chemically prepared for the procedure, so they keep dragging him back to the medical area, talking over him like he’s not there, and when Jason fights back, the punishments are brutal. There’s also plenty of classical conditioning, trying to train him to do what they want one step at a time. (He loses fingernails & teeth, because those are easy sources of extreme pain that won’t damage him in the long term, but he does piss them off worse. Jason learns that broken bones hurt worse when forced to heal too quickly. Spitting in one of the doctors’ masks cost him color in his right eye. The shock collar was just to make him put on the hood originally, but eventually they just… left it on. Food can be bought only with cooperation, and it’s a hefty price indeed.)

Jason does hold out for an impressively long time. First it’s because he thinks he needs to wait to be saved; they break that hope by showing him his own funeral. Then it’s because he needs to escape, though his attempts all come to naught. In the end, Jason hangs on because he listened when the Owls talked over him, and he knows they’re just using Jason as a trial run; he knows they’re planning to go after Dick. The longer Jason holds on, the longer his big brother will be safe. Conditioning corrupts that, though. Memories fade, names slip through his fingers, he’s… he knows he’s here for a purpose. Protecting someone. Someone the Court will also make Talon if he fails—no one should go through this, and that person is (warmth & sunshine, bright smiles & sky blue) is important, and he can’t… he can’t fail. He can’t let them down.

If he can just be a good enough Talon, that person will be safe. (This is what carries him through the training, the treatment, the cold, humiliation, and death, death, death, death, death. He can do it. He can be good enough. He’ll keep them safe.)

And then. The Court gets what they want.

Jason doesn’t realize it at first (of course not, who tells a Talon anything?) He doesn’t realize it until the base is under attack, all the Talons are woken up and sent to defensive positions, and he finds their newest prisoner in the middle of an escape attempt. He freezes for just a second, hands on his knives, trying to make sense of this. His voice is still hoarse from scarring and flat from disuse when, for the first time in well over five years, he says, “Dick Grayson?” (He didn’t even know he still knew that name.) Dick has been fighting Talons since he got here (and is pretty drugged up himself,) and acts on instinct. Dick strikes out, and it’s not until he knocks the Talon down that he realizes it’s only fighting defensively—and only because it stops fighting altogether. It just lays there one the floor, staring at him through that blank hood. “Dick Grayson,” the Talon says again, and this time Dick can make out what almost sounds like confusion in its voice, “You shouldn’t be here.”

Dick doesn’t know what to make of the Talon that helps him escape. Dick does try to help the Talon back (raiding a bat-safehouse to check both of them for trackers and to change their clothes. The Talon seems hesitant to change out of the uniform, even when Dick turns away and promises not to look. Dick still catches just a glimpse of the old scarring on the Talon’s neck out of the corner of his eye, thinks of how hoarse the Talon’s voice was, and feels sick.) The Talon stays with Dick all the way to the back entrance of the Batcave, but when Dick turns to ask if they want to come in, the Talon is gone.

(When Dick tries to explain everything that happened to the rest of the family will be the first time he realizes: “The other Talons, they were very formal, full names only. ‘Richard Grayson, the Court of Owls commands’ blah-blah-blah. The Owls just called me Grayson. But the Talon who helped me called me Dick.” “Do you think it was someone you knew?” Tim asks. Dick manages a weak, humorless laugh. “I don’t know, Tim. Maybe?” Dick thinks of the scars again, the breathy rasp of the Talon’s voice, and swallows. “Gods, I hope not.”)

It’s not the last time they meet, though. Not by a long shot.

(The Talon cannot go back to the Court, not after having the greatest failure possible dangled in front of its face, stealing the Court’s prisoner, and… and what if they try to take Dick again? No, no, can’t let that happen, can’t let this happen to Dick too, not after everything. Never, ever, ever again.)

(And gradually, the Talon begins to find Jason Todd in the graveyard of his own mind.)

I have several scenes I really, really love drafted (the moment when Dick convinces the other bats to see Jason as an ally. The moment Jason realizes what his connection to Dick actually is. The entire sequence where Dick finally realizes who Jason is, who Jason has been this whole time.) I also have a few concepts that won’t seem to go right on paper, like a final confrontation with Cobb, and Bruce finally seeing his second son face-to-face for the first time in years.

And it is, like most of my stories, full of holes I’m still trying to fill; I can’t promise this will ever resolve into a cohesive, fully narrative fic one day. But! I’m happy to ramble, and nothing helps me fill in the holes faster than getting to talk through things with people! So please, feel free to ask more if you’re interested.

#talon jason #talon!jason #my writing #mine

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