#hopefully i will get well compensated for all the extra hours i have been putting in lately at work like

[mistninja]

Hi guys 🧍‍♂️ I hate to do this again (the struggle never ends fr) but if anyone can help me out with bus fare so I can go to uni this week I would really appreciate it 🫠 I don't get paid until the 7th and I can't afford to keep using my credit card

Just 10 dollars would be enough! 🙏

[ilovejevsjeans]

WHAT MAKES ‘PECULIAR’ McLAREN SO HARD FOR RICCIARDO TO MASTER

The esoteric driving-style demands of the McLaren MCL35M have been laid bare during the 2021 Formula 1 season by Lando Norris consistently producing superb performances while new team-mate Daniel Ricciardo has faced a long, hard and often fruitless slog to adapt.

Norris and former McLaren team-mate Carlos Sainz also found the car tricky to drive, but ultimately adapted well. But over his first 11 races as a McLaren driver, Ricciardo has been frustrated by attempting to implement a counter-intuitive driving style required by what he’s described as a “peculiar” car.

“I knew straight away it was a different beast,” said Ricciardo of the McLaren-Mercedes MCL35M.

“I’d be lying if I said the Renault wasn’t a different beast to the Red Bull, so they are all different. But there’s certainly some things where this car is slightly more peculiar. That’s the puzzle that I’m still trying to solve.

“But every car will respond and react differently, and this one’s got a couple of other things, I guess.”

Usually, you would expect a driver of Ricciardo’s high calibre to get on top of a new car after half-a-dozen races. Certainly, he thought that was how long the process would take before reluctantly admitting more recently that his struggles are “a reality” rather than a temporary problem.

McLaren’s executive director of racing, Andrea Stella, suggests the problem is Ricciardo is from the “opposite end” in terms of driving style. But what exactly is it about the McLaren that is so specific and has caused so many struggles, and why can’t these characteristics be dialled out easily?

“What we kept is some characteristics of our car that make it very special to drive, which we see with the experience Daniel is going through because he came from the opposite end in terms of how you would like to drive a Formula 1 car,” said Stella of the transition from 2020 to ’21.

“Our car requires some special adaptation, while we work to improve this aspect. It’s no secret that our car is good in high-speed corners and may not be the best car when you have to roll speed in mid-corner.

“We are trying to adjust some of the characteristics to make it a little bit more manageable to drive. At the same time, the important thing to deliver is aerodynamic efficiency, even if we couldn’t necessarily improve in terms of balance and [driver] exploitation of the car.

“We are relatively happy with the rate of improvement of aerodynamic efficiency that we have been able to achieve in early races and hopefully a little bit more will be coming in the next races.”

So let’s delve a little more into the characteristics of the McLaren that have stymied Ricciardo. In keeping with what Stella says about high-speed performance, Silverstone in July was a strong qualifying performance relative to Norris, even though he struggled for race pace.

But Silverstone is a high-speed circuit without so many medium and slow speed corners that remand more rotation of the car. It’s here, with the kinds of corners that dominate at the Red Bull Ring and Hungaroring, which hosted the races either side of Silverstone, that have proved difficult.

Ricciardo’s problem is that he likes to carry speed into the corner by braking a little earlier (except when making one of his trademark overtaking moves) and rolling the speed into the corner. The McLaren has a front-end weakness that is mitigated by braking later, but then appears to still require a relatively progressive application of steering lock.

Ricciardo has struggled to do this, often braking earlier than Norris and ending up with the car under-rotated, meaning he is still traction limited for longer in the exit phase than Norris simply because he’s effectively extending the corner.

“He’s a driver who likes to roll the speed in the corner and not necessarily attack the braking as much as our car requires,” said Stella. “We understood very quickly what the issue was. We could model this aspect, which means Daniel knows what to do in terms of working on the simulator, in terms of coaching the driver. But the progress that we do see race after race is not necessarily a switch.

“Sometimes I use the example of a musician. You can tell him how to play the guitar, you can use a lot of theory but at some stage he will have to spend quite a lot of time with the guitar and make quite a lot of exercises. You don’t necessarily take a step in concerts. Most of the progress you make will be when you work in background at home and you spend hours and hours exercising.”

Just as Ricciardo has done, Stella points out the lack of testing opportunities has made this problem harder to get on top of. Ricciardo had just a day-and-a-half in the car pre-season and since then has done his learning on race weekends. At times, he’s been intensively coached by race engineer Tom Stallard as he battles to tune into a driving style he’s at odds with.

But this has to fit in with the usual work of the race weekend and can’t waste time doing needless experimentation. It’s an extra distraction, but Stella says he’s “optimistic” Ricciardo will eventually get on top of it – and has been impressed with how his racecraft has at least made it possible to put together a solid run of results, albeit only scoring 50 points compared to Norris’s 113.

The obvious question is why McLaren can’t simply change the characteristics of its car. After all, we have seen other drivers who had to adapt to the machinery be met in the middle by teams, notably Fernando Alonso who benefitted from a power steering change that gave him the sensitivity he needed to optimise his driving style.

But in the case of the McLaren, it is more about the aerodynamic characteristics than the mechanical ones. And even if the trait could be eliminated, it would likely make the car less competitive. The need to brake late and the fact the car can have a weak front end perhaps indicates the necessity to be more aggressive in shifting the aero centre of pressure forwards at corner entry in lower and mid-speed corners.

If you brake earlier and roll the car into the corner as Ricciardo wants to, the aero centre of pressure will not be as far forward as if the car is on the nose. But in attempting to make this style work, there is also a more aggressive shift in the aero centre of pressure rearward as the driver comes off the brakes, which also appears to be creating a limitation for Ricciardo in the corner entry phase.

It’s also a style that is close to Norris’s default approach, although it’s important to note that he’s put a huge amount of effort into evolving his driving style in recent years.

At the end of 2019, he spoke about experimenting with his style in the Abu Dhabi test and given he and Sainz struggled in different ways, the pair were able to learn from each other. The result of that was a tricky car but that both could make work – but creates a driving challenge that surprised Ricciardo.

Stella is uncertain how long this characteristic has been in the DNA of the McLaren, although it appears to have been for some time. After all, progressing along development paths often augments such characteristics over time.

“We have been scratching our heads on how long this characteristic goes back in time,” said Stella.

“The aerodynamics is where the forces come from and I think it goes back to some seasons before the current season. It’s a set of characteristics in terms of how the car delivers the aerodynamic forces, which is not new to this year’s car.

“This year’s car is a close sister of last year’s and there’s certainly a close relationship to the previous years’ cars. So it has to do with the methodology that can produce quick cars, but with some [specific] characteristics.”

It’s also important to remember that the aerodynamic characteristics are not independent of the mechanical ones.

What’s crucial is the interaction of the mechanical platform and the aero – as well as the all-important aero performance of the floor.

This is not just about how the car is loaded up front to rear, but also in other directions. It’s a hugely complex equation to capture these interactions through all phases of a corner and this is where understanding of the characteristics will lie. This is why McLaren is largely stuck with the characteristics for the rest of the season.

“F1 cars are entirely dominated by aerodynamic delivery,” said Stella. “Then you work with suspension and the other mechanical aspects, but those aspects are often compensation and integration, not the leading parameter which is the aerodynamic delivery of the car at the various attitudes, the attitudes being the front ride height, the rear ride height, the yaw angle, the roll angle.

“This is what causes the car to be strong in a straight line and to be less strong as soon as you generate some yaw angle or rotation of the car. At the same time, when I talk about aerodynamics, this is definitely what leads to this characteristic, but it is also quite difficult to fine tune because to generate the aerodynamic forces you need to establish floor structure.

“It takes months or years of development to consolidate these floor structures so that you can achieve the aerodynamic efficiency of the car is absolutely astonishing and never matched in the past by any Formula 1 car.

“So when you embed these characteristics so deeply, it is difficult to change them. So it’s easier to work with mechanical aspects, but even those aspects are relatively limited because of homologation in 2021.

“You find yourself relatively stuck and that’s why a lot of the requirement and a lot of the demand shifts to the driver’s side. This is the tool, it’s quick, but it needs to be driven in a certain way.

“There’s not much we can do at the moment. So while we can improve the aerodynamic efficiency, it is a lot more difficult to improve some of the characteristics with a mind to the driving style.”

You might assume that these characteristics will be eliminated next year given the comprehensive change in regulations, but Stella suggests it is possible that it could be a consequence of the methodology used by McLaren.

If it’s a product of the underlying science, then it’s possible the characteristics could carry over. This is why Ricciardo can’t simply ride out the season then start anew in 2022. What’s more, given it has produced a competitive car, it would be wrong to say that McLaren has got things wrong.

All F1 cars have what is called ‘limit behaviour’, particularly when it comes to corner entry. Some aspects will always ‘give up’ first and it’s simply that McLaren is a more extreme example of the tradeoffs present in most cars.

“I find this quite typical,” said Stella when asked if this was something he had encountered before. “Even going back to my days at Ferrari there were various seasons in which the cars were pretty much experiencing similar characteristics.

“It’s always a bit difficult to find the right blend between having the car which is strong in mid-corner and maintains good characteristics in straightline speed. Conversely, if you focus your car on straightline and high-speed, then it comes a bit difficult to maintain good aerodynamics in the middle of a corner

“It’s not McLaren specific. What is McLaren specific is that our car is clearly on one side of this typical split of characteristics that you can achieve.” (X)

[followtheowls]

For a fic prompt, could you possibly write something about Ezra being injured and the medbay and Kanan and Hera are waiting for him to wake up/are worrying. Thank you so much :)

Thanks for this prompt <3 I also used it as a part of my ficlet series on ao3! I hope you like it

tw: medical talk (nothing to gory or graphic though), non graphic mention of injury

fandom: star wars rebels

characters: Kanan Jarrus, Hera Syndulla, Ezra Bridger

Words: 1.7k

The Medbay was not a quiet place, Kanan decided. He took in his surroundings from his place in his chair, in the corner of the small Medbay that was designated for waiting. He could hear the medics bustle around chatting and moving from one patient to another, the medical droids zooming around looking for their next task or procedure, and the medical equipment and machinery hum and creak while they carried out their functions. He could hear the beeping and chattering of binary from the droids, and the medics’ attempt at a hushed conversation. To Kanan, it seemed ironic that a place for healing and resting would be so incredibly noisy, but then again, he was probably more sensitive to it than most. He found that the loss of his vision had forced his other senses to adapt and subsequently become more sensitive to compensate for the loss of his eyesight.

The scent of bacta was thick in the air. So thick, in fact, Kanan could feel it burn his nostrils as he breathed in. The scent provided almost an instant headache, and his stomach churned as it reminded him of agonizing memories, in this very Medbay, from his recovery after returning from Malachor. Nothing eased the effect of the smell, it was something that was burned into his memory unchangeable. Even breathing through his mouth was only a half solution, the odor was so saturated and overwhelmed the air that he could almost taste it. Kanan wondered how the medics were able to work here all day. They probably become desensitized to it, he thought, too much time spent alongside it to let it bother them anymore. Kanan hoped he wouldn’t have to spend enough time in this overwhelming environment to even get near the point of getting used to it.

Kanan felt like a raw nerve, exposed and vulnerable. There was a lot to try to keep track of through the Force, and though he had grown accustomed to using the Force to guide himself through life, right now it was taking extra concentration to center himself. He was feeling everything too keenly. He jumped as he felt someone brush his side accidentally, sitting down in the seat next to him. Hera, he thought. He felt her hand slip into his and squeeze. He returned the gesture, squeezing back with equal pressure. He waited for her to speak first. 

“The medical droid says if all has gone well in surgery that they should be finished soon. He’ll probably be put in a bacta tank for a day or two, depending on how well the surgery goes. They didn’t have any other information to give us.” She stated quietly. Kanan just nodded and tightened his grip on her hand. They sat in silence for several minutes, and Kanan once again became ambushed by the chaos of the medbay.

He prided himself on his ability to remain calm in stressful situations, something that had been hammered into him during his upbringing at the Jedi Temple, but, at the moment, he could feel himself begin to drift from those teachings. Somewhere in Medbay, his padawan, his son in everything but blood, was lying broken and exposed on a table in an operating room, with several surgeons working hard to save his life. He needed to find his balance and his center, but he didn’t know how to do that when he was teetering on the edge of losing everything. 

He should’ve been on the mission, Kanan scolded himself. He should have been there to look out for Ezra, to protect him from what he hadn’t learned yet or from the hate of the Empire. Force knows no one ever did that for Ezra before Kanan was around. Kanan could even fathom imaging the possibility of losing Ezra now. That’s not how it was supposed to go, children were not supposed to go before their parents, it’s against the natural laws of the universe. 

Hera spoke up suddenly. “Stop,” she said sharply. “I know you. Don’t do that.”

“What?” Kanan responded, genuinely confused.

“You’re blaming yourself. I can see it all over your face. This is not your fault or my fault. The Empire. They did this,” she hissed, her anger a white hot presence in the Force. He just hummed in agreement and stroked his thumb over the back of her hand.

Several more minutes passed, it was hard to tell how long they sat there not speaking, just waiting. It could’ve been five minutes or an hour. Kanan really couldn’t tell. He felt Hera stiffen next to him and sit up straighter, and through the noise of the Medbay, he could hear footsteps getting louder and moving towards them. Together they both stood to greet the medic.

“He’s alive and he made it through the surgery. It was touch and go for a while, and his heart arrested once on the table, but we were able to successfully revive him and repair his internal injuries,” explained the medic. Kanan let out a shaky breath he didn't even know he was holding, and slid back into his seat, nauseated and tortured by the knowledge that his padawan’s heart had stopped. 

Hera’s voice shook as she found the strength to speak. “Thank you so much. Will there be any long term effects? Any lasting issues we need to know about? And can we see him?”

“He will, hopefully, make a full recovery,” responded the medic. “There is a very small possibility that there could be some neurological deficits caused by lack of oxygen to his brain during the time that his heart stopped. But, in my professional opinion, I think that possibility is extremely low due to how quick we were able to restart his heart, but we won’t know until he wakes up. Otherwise, he is young and strong, and it is expected that he should recover just fine. though he will need to take it easy and rest for a few weeks. Right now, we have him immersed in a bacta tank to ensure a speedy recovery. I can take you both to see him if you like.”

Hera let out a cry of relief and happiness and she bent down to tackle Kanan in a desperate embrace. He returned it with equal ferocity, almost numb with relief. If the situation wasn’t so dire and serious, Kanan maybe might have made a joke and pointed out just how mom Hera was being. It would have been funny if the situation wasn’t so, just, not funny. The tears were evident in Hera’s voice when she responded that yes, they would like to go be with him, but Kanan was not one to judge. He knew if he had functioning tear ducts, he would’ve been bawling minutes ago.

The medic led them out the door and into a big open room adjacent to where they just waited. Kanan could sense a few medical technicians and droids fluttering around doing their jobs, but his focus immediately snapped to the muted-but-thankfully-still-there presence of Ezra that was emitting from what was presumably inside the bacta tank in the center of the room. While Kanan was his usual brand of stoic and silent, next to him Hera let out a half-suppressed, choked gasp. The medic respectfully excused himself to give them space, telling them he would be in his office if they needed anything.

Beside him, Kanan heard Hera let out another water breath, and he felt her struggle in the Force to contain herself and her emotions. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her into his side, prompting her to lean into him. It was just as much for his support as it was for hers. It would be okay, they could be unbalanced together. 

Hera shook under his arm, and he felt her lose a bit of the emotional battle she had been fighting. He heard the small plops of tears as they slipped off her chin and made contact with their clothing. He squeezed her a little tighter and whispered reassurances that Ezra would be okay, trying his best to be comforting, but certainly feeling like he was failing. Kanan was hovering between a mix of not knowing what to say and navigating his own residual numbness, shock, and terror from the terrifying moments when he hadn’t known if he still had a living son or not.

After a minute or two of silence between them, Hera, always the most verbal with her emotions, spoke up. “Kanan, he - he,” she was cut off involuntarily by a forceful sob. She attempted to gather herself and start again. “He - just - he looks s-so young,” she whispered, her words choppily cut apart by sobs. “And so f-fragile, in there. The tank is so b-big and - and he just looks so small.” She finished her sentence, and abandoned any premise of maintaining her composure by dissolving into quiet, but powerful tears. She turned away from the sight of their kid in the tank and leaned into him fully, pressing her wet face into his sweater. 

Kanan couldn’t or didn’t have the capacity to imagine what she was looking at. He couldn’t bring his mind to produce that image for him. But, for the very first time in the eight months since becoming blind, he didn’t actively wish for his sight back. At this point, Kanan had mostly accepted his blindness, and had learned to lead his life without sight. But, typically the most emotional moments with his family were the moments he truly wished for his vision. But not right now. He knew that the scene in front of them would be seared into Hera’s memory for life, but something deep inside him, he realized guiltily, was relieved he couldn’t see it. Relieved, because, maybe, he hoped, this way the image wouldn't haunt him. That he wouldn’t go to sleep at night and dream of it, or freeze in the midst of a firefight for fear of seeing it again. Just in that fleeting moment, he felt grateful. Grateful that he didn’t have to see what Hera was seeing, Ezra hurt and broken, and suspended in bacta while connected to a million wires. Grateful that Ezra was going to recover. Grateful for more moments with his family.

[fantastic-rambles]

Fandom: Sk8 the Infinity

Characters: Shindo Ainosuke (Adam), Sakurayashiki Kaoru (Cherry Blossom), Nanjo Kojiro (Joe), Kikuchi Tadashi (Snake), Hasegawa Langa (Snow), Hasegawa Nanako (mentioned)

Warnings: Yakuza/Mafia/Gang, Mild Language

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: Yakuza AU. When Langa is tricked by Nanjo into running up a huge bill at a club, Boss Shindo steps in to deal with it. Which means competing with Boss Sakurayashiki in a poker game. [NOTE: All characters are aged up by ~5 years. Mostly so Langa can drink and gamble. xD] [Part 1 mostly focuses on Adam and Joe. Part 2 (to come later, maybe on Day 8?) will mostly focus on Adam and Cherry.] [S Founder Trio Festival | Day 2: Gang]

When Ainosuke's phone vibrated, he glanced at the screen and the unregistered number before leaning back in his chair and picking up the call.

"Hey. How have you been?" he asked, his voice gentle. But an unfamiliar cackle emitted from the speaker, and he pulled the phone away from his ear, double-checking the number on the screen.

"Who is this? How did you get this phone? Ainosuke demanded after he replaced it to his ear. Of course, it was possible that there was a simple explanation for all of this: perhaps the phone had been dropped, and a Good Samaritan was calling a number in the contacts to try to return it. But in his line of business, it was always better to be safe than sorry.

"Yo, Shindo-san! We've got something here that we think is yours, so maybe you'd like to come pick it up? Here, gimme a sec. Can you see us?"

Ainosuke froze as he recognized the voice. With his heart sinking, he lowered his phone again, staring at the video being displayed on the screen.

A large, buff man in a white suit was sitting on a couch, his arm extending out of frame showing that he was the one taking the video. But his other arm was draped around a younger man in casual clothing. His companion didn't seem to be hurt or in any particular distress, but Ainosuke's hand clenched into a fist as he recognized him.

"So, yeah, see this kid?" Nanjo continued, unnecessarily dragging the phone closer to frame the other man better. "He ran up a pretty big bill and then tried to run off without paying. 400,000 yen! So of course we had to stop him, and he mentioned that he knew you, so I figured, well, maybe you could help him out?"

"Langa. Are you alright?" Ainosuke ignored Nanjo's blathering, his eyes fixed on Langa's through the screen.

"Huh? Yeah. Sorry about this, Ai," Langa replied, as unaffected as always. "I'm not sure what happened, though."

"Hey, did you hear me?" Nanjo interrupted, turning the screen away from Langa to focus on himself. "Who's going to take responsibility for this, Shindo-san? We run a business here, you know. If it was just a couple thousand yen, we could swallow the cost, but it's 400,000! 400,000!"

"I heard you the first time," Ainosuke snapped, irritated. He pulled his cigarette case from the pocket of his jacket, extracting one of the thin sticks and lighting up. The first lungful of smoke helped to settle the worst of his anger before he turned his attention back to the screen, scowling.

"And what I heard is that you trapped a katagi1 with bottakuri2, you swindler. How is one person going to run up a tab that high unless you're playing dirty tricks?"

But Nanjo just scoffed. "Don't try to take the moral high ground here, Shindo. You do the same thing in your shops. Besides, how can he be katagi if he's involved with you? So are you going to do anything about this, or are we gonna get the money out of this brat, one way or another?"

"You know I'm coming. Where the fuck are you?"

"I'm heading over to the main office now, with the kid. See you there!" Nanjo winked, and then the call cut off. With a snarl, Ainosuke slammed his fist down on his table next to the phone, but the heavy wood barely moved.

With sharp, jerky movements, Ainosuke replaced his phone in his pocket and straightened his tie before leaving the office, barely glancing at Tadashi as he bowed to the boss.

"Thank you for your hard work."

"Forget about that," Ainosuke snapped. "I need a ride to the Sakurayashiki main office."

Crisply, he began walking down the hallway as his wakagashira3 fell in step beside him. There was a faint trace of concern on Tadashi's usually expressionless face as he asked, "Should I call up some of our men?"

"No. It's not a raid. Just picking up something that belongs to me," Ainosuke replied with a scowl. Tadashi nodded, calling ahead to have a car prepared, though he slid into the driver's seat himself once they'd stepped out onto the street. As the city passed by outside his window, Ainosuke glared at it without seeing it, his mind working through what must have happened.

A girl--or a man, he supposed--grabbing Langa and dragging him into a club. Perhaps they'd even been told to keep an eye out for the young man with the pale blue hair, just to put Ainosuke in this situation. Keeping him there as they drank around him and tried to ply him with drinks--though Langa seemed sober enough on the call--and then presenting him with an exorbitant bill when he tried to leave.

It was a common enough scam, certainly, but Nanjo was wrong: Ainosuke didn't tolerate it in his clubs. At least, not anymore. The yakuza's power was waning, and as tourism increased, the police were beginning to crack down on that sort of behavior so that the area wouldn't gain a bad reputation. And it probably wouldn't be long until Sakurayashiki followed suit: his rival took a highly analytical and practical approach to business. He'd soon realize that dealing with the police wasn't worth the extra money the trick occasionally brought in when some of his clubs started getting investigated for extortion.

"We're here."

Ainosuke looked up as Tadashi slid smoothly into a space by the curb, waiting for the other man to open the door for him before he stepped out, straightening his suit jacket. Sighing, he looked up at the nondescript office building before walking inside with Tadashi on his heels.

At this hour, it seemed like most of the members were gone, which was fortunate. He didn't have to deal with all the macho posturing that typically came with stepping into someone else's territory, even though he'd been issued an invitation. Even so, his anger simmered silently below the surface as they stepped into the sleek, mirrored elevators and pressed the button for the top floor.

And then his shoes were clicking against the immaculately polished floor as he strode down the hallway, pushing open a pair of chrome and glass doors. His eyes flicked around the room quickly, taking in the pink-haired man sitting behind a fancy, futuristic-looking desk, his green-haired goon standing just behind him, and Langa, sitting on a couch against the wall.

"Alright, I'm here to settle that damn bill," he snapped at Nanjo as he raised his arm outward and slightly to the side. At the unspoken invitation, Langa slid off the couch to stand next to him, allowing Ainosuke to drape an arm over his shoulders possessively.

"About that." Sakurayashiki was frowning slightly, and Ainosuke turned his gaze toward the other boss.

"Nanjo was wrong to do what he did, but it still stands that the costs for the drinks were incurred. I don't want any bad blood between us, so I'd like to at least offer you a chance to cancel this debt."

Ainosuke's eyes narrowed, but he nodded his head slightly. "Go on."

"You see, there's a small poker tournament in Macau next week. It's nothing serious, just a social gathering for my group. The buy-in is just 1000 HKD, or about 14,000 yen. Whichever of us gets knocked out first will shoulder the bill, sound fair?"

Ainosuke considered it for half a second. "No. I'm not going to play with your family. Here's my offer. We go to Macau and agree on a table when we get there. We'll settle it honestly, or Langa can just go to the police to report Nanjo's business."

Sakurayashiki sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Alright, I got it. Next Saturday, then? Call me when you get there."

Ainosuke nodded, then turned on his heel to leave, steering Langa out with him as Tadashi followed them silently.

"Sorry, Ai," Langa apologized again once the transparent doors had closed behind them, but Ainosuke shook his head.

"It isn't your fault. I didn't think they'd use you to try to get to me. You don't feel weird or anything, right?"

"I'm fine."

"That's good. I'll see you home anyways. Your mother must be worried."

Although he tried to present a calm facade so as not to worry Langa, inside, Ainosuke was furious. He'd intentionally decided not to marry Nanako to try to protect her and her son from this side of his life, and yet, Nanjo had so easily stepped over the line between the legal and illegal. Of course, they'd all been aware of the risks of the relationship, but he didn't tell them anything about his work when he visited them so that they would hopefully be left alone. And this was so incredibly petty: it wasn't like there was a territorial dispute or the need to compensate for a killing where a hostage might be useful. No, just to harass him, they'd involved someone innocent.

"Ai?"

He realized that his arm around Langa's shoulders was holding the boy too tightly, and he forced himself to relax as they walked out of the building and to the car.

"So, are you interested in seeing Macau?" he asked as he held the door open for the boy to get in.

1katagi: non-yakuza 2bottakuri: bait-and-switch 3wakagashira: first lieutenant

[shadowywerewolfqueen]

Dark and Stormy Night

For Suptober Day 18. This one really got away from me!

It was a dark and stormy night. Thunder rolled over the land, causing the ground to shake with every rumble. Lightning flashed, illuminating the night with bright white streaks. Rain fell from the sky in waves, beating against anyone who was unlucky enough to be out in the downpour. 

Most creatures were curled up in their homes, unwilling to venture into the storm. One poor person was not so cautious. Dean Winchetser was driving down a lone road cutting through the forest on his way home from visiting his brother. It had been months since he had seen Sam and he knew it would be a long time before he saw him again. Even though the visit had required him to take five days off of work, he didn’t regret it one bit. He would never turn down an opportunity to see his little brother.

Dean knew he would pick up extra shifts at his jobs to compensate for the lost work days but he didn’t mind. Sam was doing amazing in college and therefore Dean’s hard earned money was being put to good use. He would work a dozen jobs if it meant Sammy got to have his dreams.

Dean tapped his fingers against the steering wheel of his 1967 Chevy Impala. Baby was the only thing left by his dad that Dean actually wanted. The thousands of dollars worth of debt was not wanted very much. Sam had offered to help pay off their dad’s bills, but Dean refused. Sam needed to save his money for better things. Dean didn’t mind working himself to the bone, it’s all he’d ever known. Sam was the smart one and had a bright future ahead of him. Dean was just a grunt. He had always been and always would be.

Dean was singing quietly to the rock song playing on the radio when suddenly a large black wolf ran across the road. Dean jerked the steering wheel to avoid hitting the animal and instead crashed into a tree sitting close to the roadside. “Son of a bitch,” he shouted as Baby’s hood grunted and groaned as it was crumpled. The car rumbled for a few seconds more before the engine and lights shut off, throwing Dean into silent darkness.

Dean grabbed his spare flashlight from the backseat and threw the door open and rushed outside to see how bad the damage was. He was immediately soaked all the way to his skin under the torrential downpour. Dean took quick stock of Baby’s crumbled hood, checking underneath to get a good look at the engine, and cursed under his breath. The damage wasn’t as awful as it could be and he would be able to fix it at the garage he worked at. The problem was, the garage wouldn’t be open for another five hours, so Dean couldn’t call them for towing assistance.

Once the damage had been assessed, Dean slipped back into Baby’s front seat, muttering a quick apology for getting water everywhere. He was already shivering as the chill from the rain seeped into his bones. He grabbed the blanket from the back seat and covered himself up as much as possible. 

Dean woke from a light sleep sometime later, unsure of how much time had passed. He blinked his eyes before turning his head to look out the driver’s side window and was surprised to see a pair of glowing blue eyes staring at him. He screamed and scrambled into the passenger seat as the eyes continued to look at him. Suddenly, the eyes disappeared.

Dean continued to stare at the empty space, his heart pounding heavily in his chest. He shook his head, trying to determine if he was still dreaming. Dean jumped, hitting his head on the roof, when there was a light tapping on his window. He was frozen as the tapping continued when a voice broke through the night. “Hello! Can you hear me?”

Dean slowly crawled forward and was surprised when he saw a hand knocking against his window. He reached for the handle and slowly rolled the window down, rain immediately blowing into the car. “Hello,” he called.

A head appeared in Dean’s line of sight. “Hey, it seems your car broke down. I can give you a ride to my place. At least, you’d have somewhere warm and dry until the morning.”

It was still too dark for Dean to make out much about the man. Dean chewed on his lips, unsure what to do. Being able to get out of the pouring rain sounded like a good idea, but this man could be some kind of murderer for all Dean knew. 

“Have you decided? It’s still raining heavily and I’m getting soaked,” the man shouted, obviously annoyed.

“Yeah, alright,” Dean replied. Hopefully his decision didn’t get him killed. He grabbed Baby’s keys, rolled the window up, and opened the door.

Dean slammed the door shut and made sure it was locked before turning towards the other man. “Follow me,” he shouted over the pounding rain.

They ran to a pickup truck parked a few feet away. They threw themselves inside, both sighing at escaping the rainfall. The man started the truck up and turned the heater up as high as it would go. Dean immediately held his hands up to the vents and sighed at the warmth that started to rush through his fingers.

“I’m Castiel. Nice to meet you,” the man said, his voice deep and full of gravel.

Dean turned to look at the man next to him and gasped. The guy was drop dead gorgeous and if the circumstances were different, Dean would already be flirting with him. He had shaggy black hair, a few day’s stubble, plump lips, and the most gorgeous ocean blue eyes Dean had ever seen. Dean was suddenly reminded of the eyes he had seen when he first woke up. This guy's eyes were almost the exact same color and Dean felt a tremor ripple through his body at the realization. “Uh, you didn’t happen to see anything around my car when you pulled up, did you?” Dean asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

Castiel tilted his head. “I saw a large shape next to your car, but it was too dark for me to make out what kind of animal it was. It disappeared into the bushes before I could shine a light on it. Why do you ask.”

Relief swept through Dean. “Uh, your eyes are eerily similar to the eyes of whatever was by my car. It’s a little creepy.”

Castiel’s lips curved up slightly. “I’m sorry. There’s not much I can do about that.”

“It’s ok. I’m Dean by the way. Thanks for stopping and offering me a place to stay.” Dean shivered, his wet clothes sticking to him like glue.

Castiel caught the motion. “Don’t worry. My house is only about five minutes away and then we can go inside and change into something dry and warm.”

“That sounds awesome,” Dean said as Castiel started the truck and pulled back onto the road.

Cas glanced at him before looking back at the road. “So, how did you end up hitting that tree?”

Dean growled. “Believe it or not, a damn wolf ran out in front of me! I didn’t even know wolves lived in Kansas. Anyway, being the nice guy that I am, I avoided hitting the damn thing and instead crashed into that tree. It’s a good thing I wasn’t going very fast or who knows what would have happened.”

Cas nodded his head, his gaze focused on the asphalt in front of him. “Well, I’m sure the wolf appreciates you not hitting it.”

“It better because now my car is wrecked. If I didn’t already work as a mechanic, there’s no way I could afford to get my car fixed. As it is, I don’t know how I’m gonna be able to get to my jobs without a working car,” Dean replied, tersely.

“Jobs?” Cas asked, obviously confused.

“Yeah, jobs,” Dean said with a nod of his head. “I work at Singer’s Garage during the day and then work at the Roadhouse at night. Helping to pay your brother’s way through college and having to pay off the debt left behind by your alcoholic father isn’t cheap.” 

Dean snapped his mouth shut, surprised at himself. He rarely talked to people and within minutes of meeting Cas, he was already spilling his secrets. Something about the man was relaxing and made him easy to talk to. Dean took a deep breath and his nose was filled with the warm scent of sandalwood and jasmine. He glanced at Cas, wondering where the smell was coming from. 

“I’m sorry. That must be tough to do. I work one job and it leaves me exhausted. I couldn’t imagine having to work two,” Cas replied with a quick glance in Dean’s direction.

Dean shrugged. “I’m used to it. Sam’s the smart one. I’ve never been good for anything besides grunt work. I ended up dropping out of high school so I could work full time just to be able to take care of Sam since dad was never around. When he told me he wanted to go to college, there was no way I was going to keep him from doing that. After dad died, I was forced to get a second job so I could continue to support my brother. His future is worth more than some lost sleep on my end.”

Again, Dean was surprised at how much he was telling Cas, but something about the man slipped past Dean’s reservations. He found that after keeping so much bottled inside for so long, he desperately wanted to get it all out. Cas actually seemed to be listening to Dean rather than just humoring him. Dean actually felt better, getting some of the weight he had carried for years off his shoulders.

By now they were pulling up in front of a log cabin. It wasn’t overly large but was bigger than Dean was used to. He had always lived in apartments and the one he currently lived in was nothing more than a run down crackerjack box. They exited the truck and quickly ran up the steps. Cas unlocked the door and then both rushed inside.

Dean could have wept with joy as he was surrounded by heat. His nose was once again flooded with sandalwood and jasmine. Maybe it was an air freshener or a cologne that Cas used and that’s why Dean smelled it earlier in the truck. He frowned at the water dripping off his clothes and forming a puddle on the floor. He looked at Cas and said, “You got a towel and I’ll wipe this mess up.”

“Let’s get changed first. If you want, you could take a shower while I get some clothes for you. I should have something that fits you,” Cas explained as he studied Dean up and down.

“That sounds great. Just point me in the direction of the bathroom.” Once Cas had given him directions, Dean made his way. He quickly turned the water on and stripped out of his clothes. As he stepped under the hot spray, he moaned in contentment.

He had just finished washing his hair when there was a knock on the door. “Dean, it’s me. I’ve got some clothes for you. Can I come in?”

“Yeah, just leave them on the sink. Thanks,” Dean called back.

He heard the door open and then shut a moment later. Once he was done showering, he dried off and then slipped into the sweatpants and shirt Cas had left. He couldn’t help but smell them, and something in his chest lurched at the warm scent that was practically imbedded in the fabric. He was definitely going to have to ask Cas about whatever scent this was because it was the best smelling thing ever. The clothes were a little tight but nothing Dean couldn’t live with. He dropped the towel in the laundry hamper and left his clothes hanging over the curtain rod to dry out a little bit. He then went in search of Cas. As he walked, he studied the pictures that were hanging from the wall.

There was one of Cas with his arms thrown around another man that was almost identical to Cas. The only difference was the eye color, Cas’ were a dark ocean blue and the other man’s was a bright electric blue. Another picture that caught Dean’s attention was one showing two large black wolves sitting side by side. Their eyes were eerily familiar and Dean found the two wolves stunning.

Dean walked into the kitchen to find the man standing in front of the sink, wearing a pair of gray sweats and a black t-shirt. Dean felt his cock jerk at the sight. “Down boy,” he muttered to himself. Dean knew before he left, he was definitely going to get Cas’ number.

Cas looked over his shoulder and smiled. “How are you feeling?”

Dean almost melted from the look that the other man flashed in his direction. “A lot better now that I’m warm, that’s for sure. Thanks for letting me use the shower and giving me some clothes to borrow,” Dean said as he took a seat at the table.

Cas turned around and leaned against the counter. “You’re welcome. Nobody should have to be out in that kind of weather. Tomorrow, if you want, I can tow your car to the garage.”

“You don’t have to do that. I can just call Bobby and he will send someone out. One perk of working there means I won’t have to pay for towing fees.” Dean paused before adding, “It’s the parts that are gonna cost me. I love having a vintage car, but the parts for them ain’t cheap.”

Something flickered in the depths of Cas’ eyes, but it disappeared before Dean could put a name to it. “I really don’t mind towing your car; It’s the least I could do. Besides, I needed to go into town anyway.”

Dean stared at him curiously. “What do you mean you owe me? Pretty sure, I owe you, not the other way around.”

Cas dropped his gaze. “I, uh, just meant… I, uh, owed you for your… uh company. It’s nice to not have to spend such a gloomy night alone.”

“O...k. You alright Cas?” Dean asked, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

Cas cocked his head. “Cas?”

“Oh, sorry. Your name is just a mouthful. I can say your whole name, though, if it bothers you,” Dean offered.

“No, it’s fine. Nobody has ever given me a nickname.” Cas moved to the fridge and opened the door.

Dean’s eyes went wide when he saw all the bags inside the refrigerator. Besides a six pack of beer and a few cans of soda, nothing but meat lined the shelves. His eyes jumped to Cas’ back as he felt his blood run cold. “Oh shit, this dude is like some kind of psycho murderer,” Dean screamed inside of his head.

He was jerked from his thoughts by the sound of a door shutting. “Dean, are you ok?”

Dean swallowed thickly. “Uh, is there any reason you have a fridge full of bags of meat?”

Cas chuckled softly. “I’m a hunter Dean. All of that is from the deer I killed recently. My freezer quit working, and I have nowhere else to put it. That’s why I have to go to town tomorrow, to buy a new freezer.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Dean replied, his body relaxing at the explanation. He knew he should be more cautious about Cas, but something about the man was making him lower his guard.

“What, did you think I was some crazy serial killer?” Cas asked..

“What,” Dean scoffed. “No, of course not!” He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks at his embarrassment. 

Cas obviously didn’t buy Dean’s lie. “Mhm,” he hummed as he handed a beer to Dean.

He took the beer from Cas and their hands gently slid against each other. Dean gasped as a jolt of lightning sparked through his body. Not only that, but Cas’ skin was like touching a space heater! Dean pulled his hand away and studied his fingertips, afraid to find them burned. He looked back at Cas and said, “Uh, Cas, I think you might be running a fever. You’re feeling a little warm there buddy.”

Cas straightened and held his hand to his forehead. “No, I feel fine Dean.”

Dean eyed Cas warily. “Are you sure because you feel like a fucking furnace! Your temperature must be at least a hundred and one.”

Cas smiled softly and took a sip from his Coke. “I assure you, Dean, I’m fine.”

“Dude, I swear if you pass out on me, I’m gonna be pissed at you,” Dean warned.

“I’m not going to pass out on you. Would you like to watch some TV before we head to bed?” Cas asked.

Dean still didn’t believe the other man but there wasn’t much he could do. He took a drag of his beer before replying, “Sure, why not.”

They headed into the living room and Dean took a seat on the couch. He sat his beer on the table and noticed something strange. He picked up the clump of black fur and stared at it. He looked down at the couch and noticed more strands of black fur. “Cas, you got a dog or a cat?”

“No, why would you ask such a thing?” Cas asked as he grabbed the remote from the TV stand.

Before Dean could respond, a lone howl shattered the silence. Cas immediately looked out the window and frowned. He mumbled something under his breath before looking at Dean. “I will be right back. I need to go check on something.”

He was gone without giving Dean a chance to say anything. After Cas had left, Dean looked back down at the fur clutched tightly in his hand. He started thinking about everything that had happened that night. 

First, he had seen a large wolf run across the road. Second, he had woken up in his car to a pair of bright blue eyes. Third, within minutes, Cas was knocking on his window, offering him a place to stay for the night. Fourth, Cas had a near identical eye color as the creature outside of his car. Come to think about it, the men and the wolves in the pictures had the same eye colors as well. Fifth, Cas had a fridge full of meat. Sixth, the man had a ridiculously high body temperature and was unfazed by it. Now, Dean finds animal fur and yet Cas claims he doesn’t have a pet. Not to mention the fact that as soon as Cas heard the howl, he said he had to go.

Dean dropped the fur as he put all the pieces together. “No fucking way,” he whispered to himself.

Everybody grows up hearing the tales of the shifters: humans who were blessed to have their souls intertwined with that of an animal, giving the person the ability to turn into that animal at will. Shifters were rare and reclusive, often living in places that resembled the homes of the animals they could turn into. Every so often, a shifter would take a human as their mate.

To be mated to a shifter was considered a great honor. Once mated, the human would go through a transition phase, turning them into a shifter as well. Shifters had heightened abilities, including better smell, sharper hearing, and increased strength. They also tended to have a higher body temperature than a regular human.

Dean looked up at the sound of footsteps. Cas came strolling back into the living room, a look of annoyance on his face. “Sorry about that. I forgot to call my brother about something.” He noticed Dean’s panicked look and asked, “Are you ok Dean?”

Dean jumped to his feet. “No, not really! I know what you are!”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Cas said slowly. “What do you mean you know what I am?”

“You’re a shifter,” Dean accused.

Cas came to a halt, standing to his fullest height. He ground his teeth together before asking, “What makes you say that?”

“There’s a lot,” Dean exclaimed. “But maybe the fact that you run extremely warm, have a fridge full of meat, and have black fur in your house even though you claim not to have a dog or cat! Not to mention, I wake up to see a pair of blue eyes staring at me and the next minute you show up, also with blue eyes! I even bet you were the wolf that ran across the road!” Dean gasped. “Is that what you meant when you said it was the least you could do when you offered to tow my car since you’re the reason I crashed in the first place.”

Cas sighed heavily and his shoulders slumped. He scrubbed his hand down his face before looking back at Dean. “Yes, I was the wolf that ran across the road, causing you to hit the tree. I was chasing after my brother and I thought you were further down the road than what you were. I’m sorry for causing you to crash. I will be more than willing to pay for any damage done to your car.”

Dean fell back onto the couch. Even if he had predicted the truth, he still wasn’t prepared to actually be told he was right. “Son of a bitch!”

Cas slowly walked towards Dean before taking a seat next to him. He smirked as he said, “I told you the wolf was probably happy that you didn’t run it over.”

Dean barked out a laugh. “I bet! Dude, I’m happy I didn’t hit you. Although Baby might not be so happy.”

Cas scrunched his eyes in confusion. “Baby?”

“My car that I crashed trying to avoid hitting your furry butt,” Dean explained.

Cas flinched. “I really am sorry and so is my brother. He said if there’s anything you need, he would be more than willing to help.”

“Your brother? When the heck did you talk to him?” Dean asked sharply. Cas gave him a deadpan look before Dean realized, “That was the wolf who howled, wasn’t it?”

Cas nodded. “Yes, he wanted to make sure you were alright. As soon as you crashed, I ran back here to pick my truck up.”

“Why the hell were you staring at me in your wolf form?” Dean asked.

“I wasn’t. That was my twin, Jimmy. He stayed behind to watch over you while I came back to get my truck since my house is closer. I apologize that he scared you. He told me if he didn’t already have a mate, he would definitely be interested in you,” Cas said, his cheeks stained a bright pink.

Dean snorted. “Yeah, well, he shouldn’t be. I’m not worth being mated to, especially to a shifter. Hell, the only relationships I’ve had for the past few years are random bar hookups. I’m not worth anything long term.”

“Don’t say such a thing. You seem like a wonderful person Dean,” Cas admonished. 

“The truth is the truth. I’m nothing special. I’m barely making it through life Cas. If it wasn’t for Sam, I’m not sure where I’d be. He’s the only reason I’m still trudging,” Dean explained.

Dean jumped when Cas grabbed his shoulder, the heat of his skin seeping through Dean’s thin shirt. “Dean, what you’re doing for your brother is amazing! You’re giving up your own happiness so that Sam can have his. I don’t know many people who would do that.”

“That’s because he’s worth it; even my dad thought the same thing. If he had had any money left over after he died, it would have gone to Sam. He didn’t intend to leave me a single dime, saying that a grunt didn’t need it,” Dean said bitterly. “The only problem was, his debt far exceeded his savings, so I got stuck paying off the ten thousand dollars worth of debt he still had.”

Cas growled low in his throat and it caused goosebumps to erupt on Dean’s skin. “Your father doesn’t sound like he was a very good man. You are not a grunt Dean, and you deserve so much better than the hand you’ve been dealt. You should have never been forced to drop out of school to take care of your brother. You shouldn’t be having to pay off your father’s debt. None of that should have fallen on your shoulders.”

Dean scoffed and looked at his hands. “It doesn’t really matter if I should have to deal with it or not because I do. That’s my life. Work two jobs, go home to a shitty apartment, and do it all over again the next day.”

“Does Sam know any of this?” Cas asked softly.

Dean’s head snapped up. “NO! When we meet up, I fly out to meet him. He offered to help pay dad’s debt, but I refused. He offered to help pay his tuition with the money he earns from his job, but again I refused. He deserved to be able to spend that money on himself. I know he hates living in the dorms. Maybe he can save up enough to get a small apartment next year.”

Cas moved his hand from Dean’s shoulder to his cheek, forcing Dean to look at him. “See, how could you think yourself unworthy of good things? It seems to me that you’re extremely self-sacrificing and Sam is lucky to have you for a brother. Your father just didn’t realize what he had in front of him: an amazing and loyal son.”

Dean felt a tear slide down his cheek before throwing himself into the shifter’s arms. He buried his nose in Cas’ neck, inhaling the soothing scent of Cas’ cologne: a combination of sandalwood and jasmine. He felt Cas wrap his arms around Dean’s waist and pull him in even closer to his body. “Shh, Dean, it’s ok. You’re ok,” Cas whispered softly.

“My dad hardly ever said a nice thing to me in the twenty five years of my life and in one night, you’ve said dozens of nice things. You’re too good to be true, Cas,” Dean mumbled against the shifter’s neck.

“You deserve to be told nice things Dean,” Cas replied softly. “If you’ll let me, I’ll tell you- hell I’ll give you nice things for the rest of your life.”

Dean pulled back. “What do you mean?”

Cas’ whole body went rigid. He nibbled on his lip before finally saying, “Please tell me you have felt a connection between us since we met.”

Dean rubbed at the back of his neck. “Well, yeah I have. Something about you makes you really easy to talk to. Not to mention, you’re fucking gorgeous and I’ve been attracted to you and that damn cologne of yours from the moment I got a good look at you in your truck.”

Cas tilted his head and squinted his eyes. “Dean, I’m not wearing any cologne. As a shifter, my sense of smell is already heightened. Most colognes are overpowering and make me sneeze.”

“Ok, so then what air freshener do you use because it’s the best smelling thing ever.”

Cas frowned. “Dean, I don’t use air fresheners either for the same reason.”

Dean shook his head. “Ok, so then why does everything around you smell like sandalwood and jasmine?”

A soft smile spread across Cas’ face. “Dean, that’s my scent. Every person in the world has their own unique scent.”

“Um, dude, I’ve never smelled another person before,” Dean said, looking at Cas as if he was crazy.

“Well, of course you haven’t,” Cas said with a roll of his eyes. “Humans don’t have a strong enough sense of smell like shifters do.”

“Then why can I smell you?”

Cas was silent for so long, Dean wondered if he was going to answer. Finally, in barely more than a whisper, Cas replied, “Because we’re true mates.”

Dean wheeled back as if he had been slapped. “NO! NO! Cas, no!” All shifters had a true mate, the one person that was their perfect other half. There was no way Dea was that for Cas.

At Dean’s words, the shifter crumbled in on himself. He slid from the couch, saying, “I’m sorry Dean. I don’t blame you for being upset.”

“Cas, wait,” Dean cried as he reached for the man’s wrist. “Why are you sorry? I should be the one apologizing!”

“You have nothing to apologize for. It’s not your fault that the wolf inside of me has claimed you for its own,” Cas said remorsefully.

“Cas, I’m sorry that your wolf was dumb enough to choose me! I told you, I’m not… I’m not special enough to have the honor of mating with a shifter. You deserve someone who is as amazing as you and… that’s not me,” Dean said, letting Cas’ wrist drop out of his grasp. 

Cas turned around, fire burning in his eyes. He grabbed Dean by the collar of his shirt and pulled him to his feet. Dean was a little afraid of the man standing before him; Cas looked every bit the predator that he was. “You are infuriatingly stubborn! I already told you that what you’re doing for Sam is something you should be proud of. You might not have much in this world Dean but it’s not because you’ve thrown your life away! It’s because you’re sacrificing it so that your brother can have a better one! That is not something to be ashamed of!”

“Cas, I work two jobs and live in a shitty apartment! If I’m not working, I’m probably sleeping because I’m exhausted from working eighty to ninety hours a week! I hardly ever go out with friends because I can’t afford it or I’m just too tired. Hell, I took a week-long vacation to go see Sam and am already figuring out a way to take some extra shifts to compensate for the lost hours.” The fight left Dean and he slumped against the shifter. He closed his eyes and took in another deep breath of Cas’ calming scent. “I have nothing to offer you.”

Cas petted the back of Dean’s hair. “Dean, I’m not asking for anything. I don’t care how much money you make or what kind of apartment you live in. Your worth isn’t measured by those things. It’s measured by what’s on the inside and trust me, you have a heart of gold. Just give me- give us a chance. My wolf has never steered me wrong before.”

Dean barked out a laugh. “I think that record is about to be broken.”

“Does that mean you’ll give us a shot?” Cas asked, afraid to get his hopes up.

Dean looked up at Cas and pressed their lips together in a gentle kiss. “Against my better judgement, yeah. I’ll give us a chance.”

A few months later, it was a dark and stormy night. Thunder rolled and lightning flashed. The rain had quit minutes ago and now the plants were wet and the ground was soggy. Most creatures were inside their homes, waiting for the rays of sunlight to dry the land up.

Two creatures were unlike the rest, running through the forest, uncaring that their pelts were getting wet and covered with mud. A large tan wolf was sprinting as fast as he could, a slightly smaller black wolf hot on his heels. Dean put on a burst of speed when he saw their cabin appear in his line of sight. He had just landed on the porch when Cas barrelled into him from behind.

They both crashed to the ground before shifting back to their human forms. Cas straddled Dean’s hips and looked down at the man he adored. “I told you I would catch you my love.”

Dean laughed as he stared at his mate. Even soaking wet, Cas was the most gorgeous man Dean had ever laid eyes on. “When you start gaining weight because you’re pregnant, let’s see if you’re as fast.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “I would still be faster. Those bow legs I love so much slow you down, which is good for me.”

Dean shoved at Cas’ chest playfully. “Keep gloating and you’re sleeping on the couch tonight!”

Cas leaned over and nipped at Dean’s lips before soothing the sting with a kiss. “Don’t make empty threats love. We both know you can’t sleep without my knot buried deep in your ass.”

Dean shivered at Cas’ voice, lust slowly thickening it. He felt a trickle of slick slide from his entrance as his own apple and pine scent thickened with arousal.  He wound his arms around Cas’ neck and pulled him closer, sealing their mouths together. Their tongues slid against each other as their hands roamed wet skin. “Love you Cas.”

“I love you too Dean. I’m so glad I chased Jimmy across the road all those months ago,” Cas replied with a smirk.

“Yeah, well, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m glad I crashed Baby into that tree. I can’t imagine life without you,” Dean said, pressing another kiss to his mate’s lips.

In the ten months they had been together, Cas had helped Dean turn his life around. Cas was a well published author under the pseudonym Emanuel Milton, one of Dean’s favorites actually, and had more money than he knew what to do with. He had helped Dean pay off his dad’s debt and get Sam set up in his own apartment. Dean was now living with Cas, beyond glad to be out of his shitty apartment. He still worked full time at the garage since he loved being a mechanic but only worked the weekends at the Roadhouse. Cas told him he didn’t have to work at all, but Dean couldn’t just sit around all day.

The best part of being with Cas was being turned into a shifter himself. Dean loved his wolf form and would spend much of his free time running through the woods with Cas. There had been a few things that had taken some getting used to, though. Shifters had secondary genders: Alpha and Omega. Cas was an Alpha and Dean had presented as an Omega meaning he produced his own lubrication and would have the ability to get pregnant. That had taken him a few days to come to terms with.

Dean looked at his stomach, already starting to show and couldn’t believe how freaked out he had been. He let his hand rest on the slight bump and smiled, excited to be growing a new life inside of him. He couldn’t wait to meet their pup.

Cas laid his palm over Dean’s. “What are you thinking about my love?”

Dean smiled. “Just how happy I am. I can’t believe I got the man of my dreams and in about seven months, we’ll have a pup of our own. It seems like I deserve nice things after all.”

“I told you, love, that I would give you nice things for the rest of your life if you would let me,” Cas said softly.

“Thanks for keeping your promise,” Dean whispered before pulling Cas into another heated kiss. 

“Thank goodness for dark and stormy nights,” Cas replied before he sealed their mouths together.

[littlesparklight]

Do you want Paris flirting with Menelaos in public? Of course you do. This contains misuse of the Epic of Gilgamesh~ *

Troy

The hall was lush and warmly lit, the earlier dishes of food now replaced by sweet fruit and richer wine. Music was drifting up towards the ceiling tiles and rafters, accompanied by the liquid silver of the lyrist's voice. It was much easier now to appreciate it all when Menelaos was waiting for word of hopeful success to his propitiatory sacrifices, though there was still tension lingering. Worries. He had done as bid, but was it enough? He wouldn't even be able to tell when it came to the second half of the affliction that had led to the need for these sacrifices, but that made a positive message of resolution for the epidemic all the more important as a sign that the sacrifices had been received and made correctly.

Reaching for one of a small pile of strawberry tree fruits, Menelaos shifted in place. His scalp prickled with the weight of a stare on him, but the worst was the voice, dropping slightly in tone, earnest emotion all too clear, near wailing, as Gilgamesh mourned Enkidu. Out on the floor, in full view from where Menelaos sat, Alexander was on his own chair, legs loosely stretched out in front of him, hooked at the ankles, his fingers practically caressing the lyre's strings.

He wasn't going to look.

He looked up anyway, straight into bright, blue-green eyes which he'd known would be fastened on him.

Menelaos looked away, taking another sweet, refreshing fruit, and almost choked on it in his hurry to bite down on it. Alexander had been doing this for the past three days, while he ran through the songs attached to this personage, translated for his guest's benefit. At first, he hadn't thought much of it, merely appreciating the skillfull singing and the story being spun out by dancing fingers and lilting voice. Had thought it nothing more than chance when Alexander had met his eyes during the first song, a little smile lurking in the corners of his mouth as Gilgamesh went to his mother to ask for interpretation of his dream.

It could well have been an accident, for Alexander let his gaze wander around the hall as he sang; smiling at younger siblings; raising his eyes up to the rafters; down to the floor and then around the great hall once more, or staring with distracted focus at the gilded animal heads of the lyre. The last Menelaos was fond of, for in that distraction was revealed Alexander's perfect skill and control, the lovely stretch of his graceful neck.

Menelaos pushed that last thought away, but he could still feel Alexander's eyes on him as he intently sang with such breathless emotion, and he shifted in his seat again, plush with thick, good cushions.

Alexander only looked straight at him whenever Gilgamesh and Enkidu talked, or someone talked to one of them about the other. It shouldn't be alluring in the least, it shouldn't mean anything, except he had kissed that remorseless mouth in the privacy of Alexander's bedroom, and Alexander didn't need to be singing about love for every word so lovingly uttered, about such a bond as he was singing of, to make his point clear. It was ridiculous that it should affect him beyond a fondness and exasperation for Alexander's daring, but the way his voice dipped down just slightly, enrichening the silver of his soaring singing voice, the way those eyes lingered so heavily on him...

Menelaos was embarrassingly, frustratingly, hard.

And he could do nothing about that, for if he should stand up, it'd be all too obvious, and he couldn't drag the cruel young man off in full sight of all and sundry anyway. So he was left to suffer until Alexander would put the lyre aside, until the bronzed sound of his laughter stopped heating his blood, at least for long enough so he might be allowed to regain control of himself. If he said anything to hopefully make him to stop, that would only reveal how deeply he was getting to him, but letting Alexander getting away with this would only encourage him.

He was far too full of both energy and dangerous ideas, as well as the skills to enact them. It had been a bit of a shock to realize that while he was the elder between them, the wide-eyed puppy eagerly and earnestly wishing for his attention was also a wolf, skilled in hunting. Menelaos' only recourse was to attempt to correct his wayward prince in the sweet-smelling privacy of Alexander's rooms.

Which was certainly something he was looking forward to, if, at the moment, with an edge of furious embarrassment to the need. He would still have to wait, for now.

*** Sparta

The sun was inching towards the horizon when they turned back towards Sparta, Mount Taygetos towering up behind them. Three deer had been the final tally for the hunt, and Paris was still full of the energy of the day as well as the success of the hunt itself, having downed one of the deer himself, at a distance only made possible by the bow.

Looking around the train spread out behind his and Menelaos' horses, Paris smiled, pleased once again by the sight of the dead deer. A fine hunt, all in all. Even finer by the break they'd taken in the hot early afternoon, to ride out those hours with a meal under the shadows of sheltering trees. More than that, the pool Menelaos had found for them. Smile widening into a full-body warmth at the reminder, Paris glanced sideways, to where Menelaos sat on the back of his own horse. Tall and broad-shouldered, the sinking sun threw Menelaos' shadow over the horse's neck and head, caught gold and and glowing coal-red in his hair. It brought to mind the gilded shimmer about temple statue, ephemeral flames. Paris had missed that. Not that he hadn't seen others with blond hair - there were some in Troy itself, as few as they were, but none of them had Menelaos' particularly reddish shade, which had made Paris want to touch it from the very first moment he'd laid eyes on him as he stepped into Troy's megaron.

The absolute best part of Menelaos, aside from his amber-brown eyes, summer-warm and soft even when he wasn't smiling, was his thighs, however. Gaze drifting down, Paris bit his lip. They were very nice indeed, and the victorious curl of bright energy settled lower.

He pulled his horse that half step back he'd had on Menelaos and slipped in so close their knees pressed together.

"Menelaos," Paris said, couldn't help the deepening warmth of his voice, the brightening heat of his smile, and burst out laughing as Menelaos looked to him, incredulity plain on his face.

"A full day as this, and you still have energy? Please, leave it for the feast when we come back to Sparta."

"Oh, I'm not going to be using any energy," he promised as he leaned in towards Menelaos with only a bare glance thrown over his shoulder to note the distance between them and the next closest horses of their hunting party. Good enough. "Looking at you gives me energy, no matter what I might have spent in all the hours of the day up until now. The way the light catches in your eyes, already reminding me of sunlight through amb---"

"Alexander." Menelaos was frowning, so fierce one could think him nothing but displeased, but there was a reddening glow stealing over his cheeks to match the shadows in his hair, and he had shivered at the first brush of lips so very close to the shell of his ear, but more importantly; he hadn't pulled away.

"I'm serious, Menelaos," Paris murmured, shifting his weight and tightening his knees about his horse to compensate, stroking its neck while he watched shifting tension in Menelaos' jaw. "I thought I was going to die the first time I laid eyes on you, and the few extra years between then and now hasn't changed that at all. I have seen the finest of prize bulls with less impressive thighs than you, and if I could have but one single more chance to touch them, I would count myself the most blessed man currently alive. To say nothing of your smile, when I can draw it out of you; spring couldn't be sweeter for the gentle warmth of it."

Pure delight was by now buoying Paris, for Menelaos had neither rebuked him nor sped up his horse, both of them easy ways to make this stop. Of course, Paris was very well aware of Menelaos' terribly strict adherence to the proper way to be a host, and that was fine - and he might be using it just a little right then to trap him where he was - but it didn't mean Menelaos didn't have recourse. He could urge his horse just a step or two in front of Paris, and that wouldn't look strange or be an insult in the lead, and they both should know that. Heat warmed his belly, his voice, just barely the tips of his ears, but Menelaos was by now sweetly rose under his tan, and Paris wouldn't give him a chance to rally.

Shifting his knee against Menelaos', as much for the feel of soft skin over hard bone as the pulse that jumped in Menelaos' jaw, Paris pressed it in against Menelaos, right behind the kneecap, and smiled. There were strands of blond hair, gold like the finest, thinnest chains of necklaces that adorned girls' throats, brushing his lips, and Paris refused to pull away for the tickle. It was only adding to the warmth spreading down his thighs.

"I know I already noted you grew your beard out," Paris continued, laughing softly when Menelaos huffed, his blush now reaching his ears. There was a different tension making its way between his brows, and Paris didn't like that, and so shook his head. "I didn't get the chance to say I like it, and I want it all over my body."

Menelaos choked, swallowing nothing but air, and Paris smiled with breezy sunniness. Menelaos hadn't even grown in out much; two years ago it'd been a fine five o'clock shadow, just barely there to scrape his fingertips; it was now a heavy stubble, enough to soften the cut of Menelaos' jaw with its bristle, but still close-cropped.

"I want to kiss your thighs and dig my fingers into your shoulders, and I think the war god himself would be pleased at the width of th---"

"Alexander," Menelaos snapped, truly red in the face now and a hand locked around one of Paris' wrists. His nails dug into the soft inner skin of the wrist, but the thumb, burning hot it felt like, was almost caressing in its tiny movement. "Let a man catch his breath - we're not all young any longer. Have you not already had enough success hunting today?"

"One success leads to the desire for more," Paris said brightly, completely shameless, but he did pull himself straight, though mourning the lack of Menelaos' body heat, mingling with his as it'd been, trapped between them.

Menelaos sighed, a deep heave of a breath. Squeezed his wrist and let go, but he didn't pull his horse forward again, and Paris, buzzing with flushed success, behaved for the rest of the ride back to Sparta.

[inscribed-in-asteroids]

AN: Here’s chapter three!

Title: The Ripple Effect

Characters: Hordak, Entrapta, Odessa, features others including OCs

Pairing: Entrapdak

Rating: M

Read on AO3.

                                                        Tower

Odessa has her gear prepped to go. Extravehicular Mobility Units were not used too often anymore, however, Entrapta and Hordak took extra precautions with the EMUs, and have even modified Tristan’s and Hydrangea’s spacesuits as well, to account for their height, weight, and metabolic rate. Darla had been upgraded continuously throughout the years, but has since been retired for this mission. Which didn’t bother Odessa in the slightest, as her parents believed she should have a ship of her own.

Celeste sits in the hangar, a cavern that had been excavated to accommodate for the growing number of people that now resided on Beast Island. The chatter of pookas echo through the vicinity. Her uncles had learned to live on the island, and that included taming some of the beasts that resided here. Pookas were not too dissimilar from the usual pet once their behavior was understood. She notes a few resting on Celeste’s roof, chittering at her as she walks beneath them. Odessa glides her fingers along the metallic surface, “Hey, it’s been a while since I used you.”

The ship whirs on, responsive to touch, but only from the genetic makeup of those that have been programmed into her system. Her parents, her siblings, Tristan and Hydrangea, and herself, are the ones that have been given permission to access her ship. However, it’s meant to be hers and no one else’s.

“This is so exciting!” Entrapta shouts. Hordak strides over, Entrapta shuffling beside him on her hair. Her father lugs heavy equipment bags with ease. Settling them on the ground, Entrapta beams at the two of them, “I wonder what our baby will find on the flagship!”

“It may be overrun with vegetation,” Hordak says. “None of us have bothered to go to it since the war.”

“There were collections of weapons and tech on the flagship as well that might be useful,” Entrapta says. She turns to Odessa, handing her a communicator. “I hacked into the mainframe of the ship and managed to give you a map of it, using old data from my past devices to navigate it. This one should be better, and I also updated its ability to detect heat signatures.”

Odessa looks at the screen, before smiling at her mother, “Thanks, Mom. This is going to be helpful. But, did none of you ever check the ship once Adora helped to defeat Prime?”

Hordak’s ears flick down for a moment, “It was no longer a concern, at the time. We only regrouped the rest of my brothers that had been left aboard. And when your mother and I had gotten closer to finishing up the repairs for Beast Island, turning the Fright Zone into New Chelicerata, and aiding everywhere else, we had not believed it necessary to investigate it further. There simply was no purpose to a flagship that was decimated of its original functions.”

Odessa nods, “It makes sense that it wouldn't work any longer. It’s hard to do that when a large amount of trees are protruding out of it.”

“With that, the atmosphere is not safe to breathe, of course,” Entrapta adds. “I have ensured that your oxygen tanks will last for nine hours—an improvement from the usual amount!—but you should be cautious, regardless of how confident you are that the tanks will not deplete their air supply too fast.”

Hordak opens the hatch, walking into the ship. He places all the equipment down, hooking the bags onto steel clasps. He points to weapons that he lines up along the wall, pressing a button for them to stick to magnetically, “Should you need any of them, they’re here.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Odessa replies. Walking up to him, she grins, resembling her mother, “I think we’ll be fine, but it’s good to be prepared, right?”

Hordak smiles at her, patting the top of her head, smoothing back her hair. Affectionately, Odessa pushes her head up into his palm, the way she used to as a child.

“I know we said we’d only be here for six weeks, but I do appreciate being allowed to pursue this,” she tells him.

“Your mother and I wouldn’t discourage you from curiosity,” Hordak replies.

Odessa beams up at him, shaking with excitement.

Her friends arrive ten minutes later, on time. They know how punctual Odessa and her family are, and after making her wait once, they learned to not do it again.

Entrapta, excited, bounds over to them, “Look! I upgraded your suits!”

“Ooh, cool!” Tristan says, holding up his. “I love the sheen going on.”

“I thought you might!”

Hydrangea grins at her, “Ooh, you changed up the texture for my fingers!”

“I even added these new features where you can get a snack and drink if you need it,” Entrapta tells them, explaining how to access it. Tristan and Hydrangea clap at her innovative features, thankful at her thoughtfulness.

Hordak, pleased at their display of gratitude, walks over to them, “In case of emergency, we have extra suits tucked away in the hatch, in addition to oxygen tanks stacked in storage. The distance is not far, but we made sure that you will all be comfortable on your journey to the flagship.”

“Thank you—both of you,” Hydrangea says. Entrapta hugs her tight, mimicking Scorpia surprisingly well.

Hordak pats Tristan’s shoulder, “The three of you be mindful. We will be on the communicator whenever one of you is in trouble, and we will send a portal your way.”

“Yes sir,” Tristan says. “We wouldn’t put Odessa in danger.”

Hordak smiles, touched, “I know you wouldn’t.”

                                                                 -

Odessa always feels at home in space.

The endless darkness, speckled with shining stars, leaves her breathless each time. Space is too amazing to leave unexplored. There’s so much left to find out there.

She turns to her friends, “It won’t be long now. The flagship went further away, but thankfully it remains reachable.”

Hydrangea flips back her hair, “Des, do you believe we’ll find anything? The flagship had been overrun with plants, and I’m quite sure it had grown.”

“I don’t doubt there’s an abundance of it,” Odessa replies. She grins at her, “But that’s where your powers come in.”

Tristan zips up Hydrangea’s spacesuit, lifting her hair, “We’ll need to make sure there aren’t any living organisms on it. That thing’s been floating around Etheria for two whole decades. It’s likely made itself home to another alien creature by now.”

Odessa holds out her pad, “Whatever is on there will show up on the monitor. But, frankly, we shouldn’t find much else except for whatever bodies were left behind.”

Hydrangea walks over to the window, looking out. She hasn’t been up here for a good few years. There are shimmering sights beyond where they are, and she wonders if they’ll find what Odessa is looking for. Her friend has a determination that knows no bounds, but she doesn’t want to risk that there’s a chance she might not succeed. Although, she should give Odessa more credit. If an experiment or hypothesis proves incorrect, she is the sort to accept that it isn’t possible and move on to the next project. Hydrangea glances at Odessa, red eyes fixated on the pad, brows knitted together as she maps out the best course to head in.

Smiling, Hydrangea touches her shoulder, “You’re excited.”

Odessa grins at her, “Of course! It’s been a long time coming since you, Tris and I were on an adventure together.”

Tristan leans against the wall, “Hopefully, this won’t turn into a mess like last time.”

“Last time we were younger—inexperienced and kind of dumb,” Odessa answers. “We are perfectly equipped this time around. We’re not going to be reckless when we land.”

Hydrangea giggles, “You have to admit, the mess made it a little more exciting. And even then, we didn’t get into too much trouble. We just got lost.”

Odessa looks at Tristan, “Besides, why are you worried? You winged it when we were on R-175. You were more than fine.”

“Just because I know how to improvise doesn’t mean I’d like to do it again. I’d like to take it easy,” he replies. Moving over to them, he smiles, “I’d rather not play babysitter to the two of you.”

“Ooh, what an adult!” Odessa says, squishing her cheeks together. She then folds her arms, smirking, “This is coming from the guy who sulked at not having the last bowl of ice cream.”

“Uh, I called dibs and you swiped it, right under my nose. Yeah, I was gonna be a little upset.”

“Doesn’t help your case, Tris. Honestly, you’re not much older than Des and I,” Hydrangea says.

“Yet I know that if something goes wrong, I’ll probably get more shit for it. ‘You’re almost 18! This is on you!’” Tristan mocks, wagging a finger. He crosses his arms, “Like the two of you can't make up your own minds.”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head,” Odessa replies, pointing to the communicator. “You know my parents never discouraged us from exploring, and they do know we’re all capable of making our own decisions. I’m leading this expedition, so if anything does happen, it’s on me.”

Hydrangea leans over to check the monitor. She looks at Odessa, “Do you know where we’ll be landing on the Velvet Glove?”

Tristan snickers, “That name I swear…”

Shaking her head, Hydrangea feigns a sigh, "So sad. I wonder if he compensated for something.”

“Do you think that’s what he called his dick?”

“No, that’s the name of Horde Prime brand condoms,” Odessa says. “His dick was probably something like ‘The Illustrious Rod of Justice.’”

Giggling, Hydrangea adds, “He did go around ‘impregnating’ hundreds of galaxies. That guy had a loooot of repressed sexual feelings, I think.”

“Yeah, like, he did and didn’t?” Tristan says. “He was bizarre. He got boners over rules and oppressed people with his holier-than-thou morality.”

“Seriously. Did he have shitty parents that couldn’t go ‘hey son, maybe bullying people into following your rigid, black and white laws is pretty messed up’ or what?”

“Well, whatever he was,” Odessa says, looking out the window, “Prime’s remnants are still in the Velvet Glove. His, hopefully, very much intact and preserved genetic material.”

“Des, that sounded so wrong!” Hydrangea laughs.

Tristan makes jerking off motions and makes a ‘sploosh’ sound.

Odessa grins at them, turning back to the monitor, “But to answer your question, my father informed me of an open bay area that should still be functioning. We’ll dock there.”

Tristan bends down, voice low, “By the way, we’re all aware of the two red dots above us, right?”

Odessa whispers, “Yes, it’s been there for a while. But I didn’t want to alert anything to make sure we could sneak up on it.”

Hydrangea nods, “How should we proceed?”

“Gea, leave for the main corridor. Send an electric shock through the air duct to incapacitate, not kill the intruders or damage Celeste. Tris, you stay to the side and be alert in case that doesn’t knock it out—take my spear from me. I’ll stand here to look vulnerable. Countdown now to 120 seconds.”

Tristan removes her weapon without trouble. Hydrangea walks out of the cockpit, the doors whooshing open and closed. Glancing over his shoulder, Tristan meets Odessa’s eyes.

Suddenly, sparks of electricity crackle into the vent. Cries of shock reverberate through the duct, followed by loud banging as something hurries along within. Odessa narrows her eyes as Tristan rushes toward her, both stances offensive.

From the opening, two bodies fall down in front of them. Electricity fluffs up tufts of fur, as Adam and Molly look up at them.

Hydrangea bolts back inside, “Hey, what came fr— Oh!”

The three look down at two of the quadruplets.

Adam grins, lightning coursing over his whiskers, “What’s up, everyone! Fuck Prime, am I right?”

Molly groans, thunking her forehead onto the floor.

                                                              -

“I am so, so, so sorry!” Hydrangea says again, handing Molly and Adam packets of food. “I do hope the shock wasn’t too much.”

Adam waves a hand, “Nah, we’re fine, aren’t we?”

Molly sighs, wishing she was anywhere else.

Tristan kneels down in front of her, “Why didn’t you tell us you were here?”

At Molly's silence, Adam grins, scratching his cheek, “Weeeeell, you see, I thought it would be fun if we came to visit. I saw Odessa’s ship, thought, ‘Hey, that seems cool!’ so I got in—”

“—I tried to stop him.” Molly adds, giving a small glare to the floor. “But he was climbing in anyway—”

“And ta-daaaa, we’re here! In space,” Adam finishes. “It was really nothing more than the lust for adventure.”

“That was very dangerous,” Hydrangea scolds, placing a hand on her forehead. “We could’ve killed you by accident.”

“Now it will be on purpose,” Odessa hisses, stalking toward them. “You two fools could’ve endangered your lives, that of my crew, and neither of you have experience in space travel. You are liabilities that may impede our progress.”

“Odessa,” Tristan begins. “Your parents provided us with extra supplies. It’ll be okay.”

“I have to agree with Odessa,” Hydrangea says, staring at Adam and Molly. “What the two of you did was irresponsible.”

Molly remains mute, looking away.

Adam stands up, “Hold on, we'll be okay keeping up with the three of you.”

“That’s not the point,” Odessa snarls, hair slightly curling. “I don’t even know how you snuck inside Celeste, much less evaded detection for almost three days.”

“See? We’re very quiet! You didn’t even notice us until now. I think we’ve proven our capability to you,” Adam insists.

Arms in a placating position, Tristan remarks, “I think we need to take time to reflect on the next course of action. Adam, why don’t you and Molly go wait in one of the rooms?”

“Aww, that’s no fun,” Adam says, irritated.

“If it’s fun you want, I’m more than willing to tear it into you,” Odessa threatens.

“Yeesh! Okay, okay, I’m going,” Adam complains. But he exits the cockpit to enter a room down the hall.

Tristan stretches out a hand to Molly. She looks at it for a moment before taking it in hers. Guiding her to the door, Tristan nods at Molly, who gives him a small smile.

Once gone, Odessa says aloud, “Celeste, lock the two of them in their quarters.”

“Affirmative,” the ship answers.

Hydrangea sighs, claws rubbing her temples, “I have to admit, this isn’t the sort of conflict I was expecting immediately.”

Tristan returns Odessa’s staff to her, “Perhaps we should consider allowing them to tag along.”

Frowning, Odessa glares out the window. Arms folded, she shakes her head, “I would prefer not.”

“It may serve better to deal with them directly,” Tristan says. “I doubt you would want to allow Adam free rein of Celeste.”

“Ooh, yeah, that would not be good,” Hydrangea agrees.

Growling deep in her chest, Odessa throws her hands up in the air, “Fine! Fine, but if they step one toe out of line, I’m leaving them on the flagship. Don’t think I won’t!”

“Got it,” they say together, very aware she’s serious.

                                                            -

Reaching their destination, Celeste is docked. Odessa steps out onto the flagship, staring around at the expanse of white and grey. Once sleek walls have indeed been overgrown by flora—vines weaving through its corpse, leaves scraping its sides. There’s no oxygen in space, but they were correct to assume it’s only grown. The plants were called forth by She-Ra, and seem to contain a magical property that prevents them from wilting in zero gravity.

Odessa collects a sample in a small test tube. Plugging it closed, she says, “No one touch anything. The flagship isn’t moving, but there’s no certainty that Prime had not built back-up systems into it. Should one of you find something of merit, call me over.”

Adam pumps his fists, “Whoo-hoo! Let’s go exploring!”

Rolling her eyes, she turns around to face him, “Adam. Look at me. Are you looking? Look at me. Do. Not. Touch. Anything.”

“You just told everyone that,” Adam replies.

“Yes, but I have to make direct eye contact with you to ensure that you will, indeed, in the back of your brain, not touch anything.”

“Relaaaax,” Adam says, wrapping his arm around her, ignoring her scathing leer. “You’re talking to the King of Cool. I’m not going to mess anything up.”

“You better not,” Odessa threatens before stalking away. Not peering over her shoulder, she adds, “Tris, take Molly. Gea, take Adam.”

Pulling out her own pad—quickly modified by Odessa due to unwanted company—Hydrangea smiles at him, “Let’s go see what’s around, hm? I think heading east leads upwards to the elevators.”

“Sounds fun!” Adam says, breaking into a sprint. “I’ll race you!”

“Adam, that leads to the supply closets!” Hydrangea yells, running after him.

Tristan looks down at Molly, “Why don’t we go west, then?”

“Yeah, um, that sounds okay…” she whispers, feeling cramped in the EMU.

He smiles at her, unsure of what to talk about. Settling on silence, they walk in the opposite direction.

                                                            -

Hydrangea catches up with Adam, “Hey! You can’t go wandering off like that.”

Adam grins, “I know where I’m going. I have an excellent sense of direction.”

Shaking her head, Hydrangea walks alongside him, “Alright, but I think following the map will yield better results. This mission is very significant to Odessa, and we should make an effort to find what she needs.”

He glances at her, “What exactly are we looking for?”

“Pardon?”

Shrugging, Adam says, “She didn’t specify what she needed, so how can we put in any effort for things we’re unsure of?”

“Honestly, none of us are too sure of what we may find here. The flagship has been abandoned for so long, whatever may have been here might not even hold up anymore.”

“If I was her, I’d go scout for any leftover weapons.”

“Why’s that?”

“They wouldn’t be of any use floating around in the nether regions of space. Wouldn’t her family want them?”

“Her family would not,” Hydrangea states. There have been no wars, no battles, no unrest on Etheria since the Horde invasion came about. She knows that Odessa’s father and uncles have done their best to make reparations for past injustices towards her people, and what she is aware of is bringing back weaponry may instill fear and distrust again.

It had not been easy the first few years—the first decade—since Hordak and his brothers made a genuine attempt to make Etheria their home. Etherians, understandably, had very little faith and charity towards the Horde clones. Glimmer, Bow, and Adora vouched that things will change between the two factions of race. Adora assured the people that Prime’s defeat would bring a new dawn for them all, and Catra, having been Hordak’s very own second-in-command, stepped forward to aid him in making peace with the Etherians. For it did not matter that she was She-Ra’s lover. She, too, had caused destruction. Had tormented and ravaged Etheria, and even admitted that she was the mastermind behind the majority of attacks, much to Hordak’s chagrin. There were many villages who remembered her for that.

The idea of bringing Horde weapons onto Etheria would have consequences. The years go by, and she knows plenty of Etherians who welcomed them eventually. As of now, it’s nearly the majority. They have integrated into Etherian society remarkably well. Known in their respective communities, Talon and Hordak are two, in particular, that chose partners who were as equally recognized for their achievements in the realms of magic and science, respectfully. She knew Entrapta had not been accepted prior to the war, and had to prove herself after. Nyxia, from what she’d been told, had raised several eyebrows for taking a Horde clone as her husband, though no one commented on it. To her face, at least.

Hydrangea comprehends the value of peace. The lack of war was not the issue, for dissent can be riled without impending doom. Civil unrest depends on power structures. Everything continues to hinge on the belief that harm is not what the Horde desires.

She holds up the pad, showing Adam a different route, “We can go to another room. You can even pick.”

“Fucking awesome,” Adam says, pointing to another hallway.

                                                            -

Tristan continues along through the hallway, minding his business.

Molly does the same, but with an inclination toward anxiety, her thoughts bounce back and forth between not caring that he’s here, and wondering how anyone can stand her being here. Adam had to go and sneak into the cargo hold. Adam had to drag her along by grabbing her against her will and making her jump in. Adam had to insist on climbing into the vents instead of saying they were onboard, wound up electrocuted, and got Odessa mad at them.

Odessa isn’t a person she knows too well, but Molly would prefer not being viewed as a pest by the one leading them into unknown territory. She wouldn’t blame Odessa if she did abandon them on this empty hunk of junk.

“We’re coming up to a divide, which way should we go?” Tristan asks, breaking her from the reverie.

Molly crosses her arms, “I don’t know…”

“Do you want to go left?”

Glancing that direction, she frowns. Shaking her head, she says, “I’d rather go right. If that’s okay!”

Tristan smiles, “Right it is.”

Keeping up with his long strides, Molly sighs to herself.

“Not exactly what you planned on,” he states, attempting, once more, to make conversation.

“No, I definitely did not expect to be out in space for three days,” Molly complains, crossing her arms. “I don’t really care for it.”

“Space travel isn’t for everyone,” he says. “I’ve only gotten to go a handful of times.”

Looking up at him, she lightly clears her throat, “When?”

“When I was younger, I went on a trip with Gea, Des, and her parents. It was amazing! Normally, we talked with her via telecommunicator.”

“All the time?”

“Every day if possible.”

Molly gives a small nod, “That sounds nice…”

“It was,” Tristan replies. “Granted, like I said, it was a handful of times. Our parents weren’t too keen on Gea and I being gone for extended periods of time.”

“What was the longest you were gone?”

“Five months. Half a year was too much for them, I think,” Tristan laughs. Not that he would’ve minded being gone for that time, or longer. There was so much out there to investigate, it didn’t make sense to stay in one place. That, and he didn’t venture out of his room unless it was to spend time with his friends. He’s considered a homebody by his parents, but truthfully, he doesn’t spend much time at Salineas.

“Right,” Molly remarks to herself. “There was a festival a couple years back. You and your friends weren’t there.”

“Right, the Fresian Festival,” Tristan replies. He smiles at her. “I’m amazed you remembered.”

“Oh! People commented on it. I only just connected the dots,” she says, chuckling nervously.

“Even so,” Tristan says. Stopping in front of a large entrance, he reaches his hand out. Ensuring there’s no barrier, he walks through. A table sits, unobtrusive, in the center. He inspects it all around, kneeling to peer at its underside.

Molly rubs her arm, feeling more stifled. She tilts her head, “What is a table doing here?”

“Not sure,” Tristan replies. He looks at its edge, noting the faintest outline of a pad. He shrugs, “It must’ve been used for something.”

“I guess it’d be bad if we checked…”

“It may not work anymore,” he says. “It could be a control pad for navigation, or releasing dozens of soldiers at once.”

“Maybe it’s a hologram for entertainment,” Molly lightly jokes.

He grins at her, “Maybe!”

Returning the smile, she clicks her claws against each other, “Um, well, Odessa said not to touch anything. So we should probably leave it alone.”

“We’ll bring her back to look at it,” Tristan replies.

Exiting the odd room, they begin down the other corridor.

                                                             -

Dangling from wires that stretch deep into black, hundreds of bodies hang suspended where Odessa walks. Being the main goal for this expedition, she steps past several columns before pausing in front of a random case. Wiping off imaginary dust, observing the weathered face inside, she wonders if it’s even viable. The system has continued to function. She spent the first few hours merely inspecting an aspect of her life that she only heard about. The weapons were kept in storage, and she found the pool of liquid where her father had been stripped of all free will. Further along, she encountered an odd room with a single table, its buttons and pad faintly outlined. Pressing it, it opened a hole where copious amounts of surgical tools were kept, laid in neat rows. She took them for herself, and some were medical instruments she never saw before.

With that accomplished, she ventured out to find this room. Approaching another container, she looks within to see a similar individual with long, white locks, eyes closed. Prime. Or one of him. All of these must be him. The actual Prime was never retrieved from the chasm of the flagship. No one wanted to bury him, and she doesn’t blame them. She wouldn’t either.

But this… this is another of his forms. An impressive specimen, she must admit. Even in this state, at his peak, he would’ve stood out among her father and uncles. Likely as a way of preserving their species’ capabilities of agility and strength, while keeping their physical bodies weaker than his own to overpower and dominate.

Touching the glass, she presses her face closer to the vitrine. Her father told her that he’s dead, but there had been a way of accessing his memories. Prime had done it before. She surmised that his previous bodies were kept on hand for knowledge. The body may be inanimate, but the brain, if preserved, could be examined. A corpse with a living mind. Its own special little coffin. Such a thing would frighten Etherians, who, despite their alliance with her people, still have a difficult time comprehending—or, rather, accepting—what science can do.

Odessa touches the black pad wrapping around the case. It turns on, and she balls her hand in a light fist, gently pricking her palm with her fingernails, uncertain of what to do. Rubbing her thumbs underneath her fingertips, she decides to press down on a few buttons. Nothing. She slides her digits over the longer, colored section, and it hums with energy. The vitrine lights up within, haloing the body. Its eyes remain closed but she sees his form better.

Odessa taps a few more combinations, and it glows even brighter—

Right before it opens and spills the contents out onto the ground.

“Shit,” she murmurs to herself, kneeling in front of the body. Glancing at its case, she knows there’s no way to put it back in. Tugging its face toward her, she inspects the body. It really is remarkable how preserved it is for all the decades it's been deceased.

Setting down her bag, she pulls out cotton swabs to collect skin samples, trims off claws, and pulls out teeth with a plier. Then she stares at the head for a good moment or two.

Pulling out the trephine, a gift from the table earlier, she drills a hole in the head to relieve pressure, as well as to remove excess liquid so that nothing sprays out at her. Once complete, having opted for a full removal, she puts away her tool for favor of a small, circular blade. Shearing off the hair, and some wires, from the scalp, Odessa marks where to cut with a pen. She digs into the skin and stops for a second when it makes contact with bone. Clicking it on, the blade begins to gingerly whir, and she follows the path.

Brain fluid and blood seep out onto the floor, mixing with the liquid from the vitrine. Carefully, she pulls away the bone flap, and inspects the brain for possible damage. Taking out a small scalpel, she slices at the thin layers of membrane that cling to the inside of the skull. The meninges cut, more cerebrospinal fluid spills out. Tugging it out inch by inch, she snips the connection at the brainstem and spinal cord; Odessa holds the brain in her free hand, its weight sinking into her palm. Holding up the organ, she inspects it: perfectly intact.

Laying it down on a towel, she wipes her hands off the edge of it. Odessa brings out a large jar from her bag, filling the container with any of the remaining liquid from the vitrine. She needs every bit of it though.

Holding down her helmet’s interphone, she says, “Tristan, do you copy?”

“I do, what’s up?”

“Can you come to my location and help me with something?”

“I’ll be right over,” he says.

It doesn’t take him long before he arrives, and the first thing she hears is Molly yell.

“What is that?! Is that a body?!” she demands, jumping back in disgust.

Odessa crosses her arms, “Yes, obviously.”

Tristan walks over, looking down at it. Then he turns to her, smirking, “I hope he was dead already.”

“He was,” Odessa smirks back. “I need you to move some liquid left in the vitrine into the jar behind me. I took some but it needs more.”

Molly wrinkles her nose, bothered by the nonchalance displayed by the two of them.

Tristan moves his hands in a flowing arc, pouring the water into the jar until it reaches the top. Odessa spins the cap back on, pleased with her work.

Groaning, Molly keeps her eyes on the door.

Tucking all her items with care into her bag, Odessa says, “What did you find?”

“We came across a room with a table in it, but we didn’t touch it,” Tristan replies.

"Was it before you came here?"

"Yes, why?"

Odessa gives her bag a slight shake, "These were from there!"

"Nice," he says. "Good thing we didn't open it, that'd be anticlimactic."

“Anything else?”

“We came across the kitchens, the holding cells, the area where it seems clones are born, all that fun stuff,” he says.

“Interesting,” Odessa answers. “It seems that the flagship was to keep the amount of soldiers he had, and different areas were few and far in between.”

“Seems to be,” Tristan says, walking with her and Molly to the exit. “I guess interior decorating wasn’t his thing.”

Odessa laughs, “No, I suppose not.”

Heading down the hall, they contact Hydrangea, who says she is nearby Celeste. Odessa is led by Tristan to the room with the single table, and she remarks, “I wish there were more instruments in here."

"Didn't you already have these things on hand with you?"

"Yes, but it doesn't hurt to have more!"

“I guess...” Molly murmurs.

Continuing down the corridor, Odessa asks, “Did you explore that area?”

Tristan shakes her head, “No, Molly and I checked everything else. Gea, maybe?”

“Hey, Gea, did you happen to investigate the northern corridor?” Odessa queries, clicking her interphone on.

“No, I didn’t,” her voice comes through the intercom.

“Tris, why don’t you two head back to Celeste? I’ll only take a minute. And for the love of all that’s good, keep Adam from the controls.”

“Will do, Captain,” he replies.

With that, she takes her leave. The hallway is covered with the faintest layer of dust, floating, never settling onto the surface. Odessa notes cracks in the walls, stepping over foliage that wraps through the metal. She finds a room filled with keepsakes, creatures and objects lining the walls. At the forefront, she notices shattered glass on the ground. Bending down, she raises it to her eye level, its surface poorly shining. The colors are strong, however, and it seems to have formed a particular shape at one point.

Compelled, Odessa gathers every broken fragment and places it inside her bag.

                                                              -

“What is it?” Hydrangea asks, combing through Tristan’s hair. They have bid their unwelcome guests, as Odessa puts it, goodnight, and are congregated in Hydrangea's sleeping quarters.

“I’m not sure,” Odessa says, holding up a small piece of glass. “It doesn’t seem to hold much value anymore, that’s for certain.”

Tristan tilts his head down, letting Hydrangea brush better, “A treasure from a conquered planet. Doesn’t seem to be anything else, aside from a sad reminder.”

Peering at it, Odessa checks every bit of its blue, dulled by time, but no less impressive in its sheen; its delicate thinness reveals a species that valued aesthetic beauty. Whoever this belonged to stood no chance against Prime.

Twirling the fragment in her hand, Odessa says, “But we found much more than we believed, which counts for something.”

“Which is exciting!” Hydrangea says, switching places with Tristan. “We don’t know what all this means yet, but I’m sure we will eventually.”

Odessa smiles, shaking her hands at the possibilities. Any object or clue that they find has potential. She isn’t sure where this will go, but she wants to learn as much as she can.

Like her mother always says: for science!

[randomfandomimagine]

Busy (Cloud x Reader)

Character: Cloud Strife

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII (Advent Children)

Categories: Gender Neutral Reader (they/them pronouns), Soulmate AU

Word Count: 2.5 k words

Requested by anon: Could you do an imagine for Cloud Strife for a Soulmate!AU whenever someone draws something on their skin, it shows up on their soulmate’s skin too? So reader is constantly busy and always has to wr­ite notes on their body. So of course the notes show up on Cloud’s skin too. Then they meet and Cloud for the first time and somehow, it ends up with Cloud doing a small favour for them and reader writes something along the lines of ‘the hot blond guy’s name is Cloud and we need to meet next week’

Notes: It took me literally months to write this (insert ‘it’s been 82 years gif’) because I had no inspiration but it’s finished!! I don’t even know if the person that requested it will see it, but I hope they enjoy it if they do and that the rest of you lovelies do as well :)

Links: AO3

REMEMBER THAT IMAGINES/ONESHOTS REQUESTS ARE CLOSED!

Cloud lied down on his bed, thoughtful. His blue eyes were focused in the ceiling above him even if he wasn’t really watching it. His mind was far away from the room, as he couldn’t stop thinking about his soulmate.

Almost like they had been thinking about him too, the blond felt a soft tingle in his arm and he quickly looked down to it. The round but messy handwriting of his soulmate was etched there once more. This time, just like the others, it read something that he couldn’t quite understand. ‘Baker 23’.

Most of the time, when he read what his soulmate wrote, he didn’t get it. Sometimes it was a combination of random words and number just like that one, other times it was phrases like ‘the usual, 2 big, J’ and Cloud wished it could tell him something about them. He had tried replying, writing something in his other arm so it hopefully appeared on the soulmate’s skin too. He never got any replies.

Hurriedly sitting up on the bed and picking up the marker that he kept on the bedside table, Cloud scribbled something in his left arm. The marker hovered over his skin for a moment as he thought what to write in case they saw it this time. He decided for something simple and wrote down the word ‘hello’.

Patiently waiting, Cloud thought about the situation. Did his soulmate not see his notes? Did they see them but were unable to reply? Were they afraid to reply? If only they knew how their particular bond worked, they would manage to communicate with each other.

The blond took a quick look at his arm again, but the words in his skin hadn’t changed. With a resigned sigh, Cloud lied back down and fantasized about meeting his mysterious soulmate.

-

Y/N grunted in frustration, being overwhelmed at how crowded the shop was once again. Sharing delicious food with people sure was great, and it was amazing that everyone loved the dishes so much, but it was incredibly stressful running such a busy business. Hopefully their new plan would work and someone would show up to help once for all.

With speed and efficiency, Y/N put the food in different containers and closed them, delivering it to the people waiting and loudly reclaiming their food. Apparently everyone was in a hurry, or rather they were just really impatient.

Crossing out names and dishes, Y/N then proceeded to take a little break. It was then when the improvised delivery guy appeared. He was just one of Y/N’s friends, who helped by getting the food delivered when they had the brilliant idea of not only serving food at the store, but also at the clients’ homes as long as they paid a little extra money. The only problem was that the ‘delivery guy’ didn’t have a vehicle and had to go everywhere by foot, which took too much time.

“No news from the ad?” He asked Y/N, who sighed and plopped down on a chair.

“Not yet” The aforesaid replied, noticing the establishment was finally empty after hours of serving. “Hopefully someone will show up soon”

“What if they don’t?”

“Then we’re screwed…”

Y/N looked down to the notepad, which everybody said it was ‘just your arm’, but it was better than actual notepads. Those you could lose or misplace and it ended up being a mess. It was easier to just write on one’s arm, even if with messy and hurried handwriting.

As they were about to scribble the word ‘AD’ to try and remember to check on any possible volunteers to be the delivery person as it was asked on the advert, something appeared on the other arm. The word ‘hello’ had appeared, making their heart race. Y/N’s soulmate had been trying to communicate, leaving little messages like those. But the diner was far too busy to stop and take the time to respond. If only they could meet, they could find out the true meaning behind the term ‘soulmate’.

-

Completely forgetting about that mysterious person who wouldn’t reply, or at least trying to, Cloud went outside on his motorbike. The skin on his arm seemed to mildly tingle still, and his blue eyes briefly fell on it. Two letters showed up on his wrist, ‘AD’. As usual, he had no idea what they meant.

He accelerated on his bike, trying to shove aside the obsessive thought of his mysterious soulmate. Cloud sighed in frustration. At least the familiar feeling of riding his motorbike made him feel free. The wind in his hair, the adrenaline running through his veins, the impact of the speed on his body.

But suddenly, Cloud had to bring his bike to a halt. He gasped when he saw a big poster that seemed familiar to him. He had seen those posters all over town, but paid no attention to them. Until the pieces seemed to click in his mind. It wasn’t A.D. as in letters or initials. It was ‘ad’ as in advertisement.

The blond quickly stood from his motorbike and swiftly ripped the poster off the wall. His blue eyes traveled through the words, assimilating them as fast as he could. A hunch told him it was important, that such poster could very well lead him to his soulmate. Once and for all.

“Help needed” He read again, silently mouthing the words he had almost memorized by now. “Delivery person for hire at our shop, access to personal vehicle required”

Folding it neatly like it was a treasure map, Cloud saved the poster in his pocket. He looked over his shoulder to his bike and walked back to it. When he started the engine once more, he knew he wasn’t wandering anymore. He now had a destination.

Even as the city was a blur around him, his bike didn’t seem to move fast enough. To compensate for this, Cloud’s heart was wildly racing inside his chest. His mind was running free, imagining the many scenarios in which he could met his soulmate. Finally. How they would smile at him when they were hit with realization. How their eyes would light up. The way they would immediately know one another as soon as they were face to face. Like they had known each other all life. Because they were destined to be together.

When Cloud finally made it to the address specified in the poster, his heart was still beating fast. He paused at the door, taking a good look at the place. He imagined a big restaurant, classy and expensive. He was almost relieved to see it was simple and humble. It was only a small establishment, still filled to the brims.

He walked in with determination, not letting that nervous feeling in his stomach to take over. A little bell rang over his head when he opened the door, gathering the attention from the people behind the counter.

His eyes wandered around, examining each person trying to determine who could be the one he was looking for. He felt himself shaking slightly as he advanced towards the counter.

“Hello” A person greeted him from behind it. “I’ll be with you in a moment”

“Alright” Cloud muttered, watching them in curiosity.

They wrote something on their arm and absently put the pen on their ear for safekeeping. Cloud’s heart skipped a beat when he noticed their arm was actually scribbled all over, words written with dark ink staining their skin. However, he told himself to calm down since that didn’t mean they were his soulmate.

He closely watched them as they hurriedly walked up and down, frantically taking orders and serving dishes. Cloud thought to himself that, if that were the one, it all made sense. They were probably too busy to reciprocate. But that could change. He was there now.

When they were finally ready, they approached Cloud again.

“Okay” They said, nearly breathless from all the movement. “How can I help you?”

“I was here for the… ad?” As he held the poster up, Cloud couldn’t help but to glance down to their arm, searching for that very word. It was useless trying to look for it in the sea of letters written on it.

“Really? Oh, that’s great!” Someone dinged a bell, earning their attention. They took a step away, already heading to their new customer. “You’re hired!”

“But…” Cloud uttered in astonishment, seeing as they were already leaving.

“Right now I’m swamped, but come back tomorrow, first thing in the morning!” They exclaimed over the pandemonium of voices. “Name’s Y/N, by the way!”

The blond gawked at them, rendered helpless as they were already gone. He still lingered there, watching in fascination how they attended the customers.

Resigned, Cloud sighed and took a step back. Maybe that wasn’t it. It definitely wasn’t how he had pictured it anyway.

As he was heading back for the exit, he tensed up with a familiar feeling. His skin was tingling like it had done many times, and soon enough something was appearing on his bare forearm. He immediately whipped his head back, just in time to see Y/N writing something down on their arm.

Cloud couldn’t help but to smile a little when he read the words ‘meeting the hot blond guy tomorrow morning’ as they showed up on his skin. The spark of hope had ignited inside his chest once more.

-

Y/N’s mind burned with thoughts. As they made it to their store, they yawned and shook their head. The remnants of slumber were still trying to claim them back. Or maybe it was the exhaustion of lack of sleep and working too much.

“Morning” A deep voice said, causing Y/N to look up in surprise.

The blond guy from the day before was already there. He was leaning down on his motorbike, parked right next to the shop. Honestly, they had supposed he wouldn’t be showing up until much later. Y/N didn’t expect him for hours, it was barely dawn.

“Good morning” They replied, heading for the door. “Let’s talk business”

“Actually…” He began, leaning away from his motorbike.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch your name” Y/N interrupted, already jittery for the day ahead.

“Uh, Cloud...” He frowned, looking down to his crossed arms.

“Well, Cloud, we got a lot to do” They went to open the big metallic door, which the blond helped to slide up with ease. “We already have a few deliveries to make”

“You’re not open yet” He replied, puzzled by their statement.

“Tell me about it” Y/N huffed in exhaustion.

“I was… actually hoping to talk to you”

“What about?”

“Well, I…”

“Look” Y/N shook their head, noticing his hesitance. “If it’s not work related, I don’t have the time for it”

“But…”

“I’m sorry, but I’m way too busy to think of anything else”

Cloud gawked at them and watched them get to work. Y/N was already inside, moving some boxes and opening others. They heard an annoyed sigh behind them and before they could turn around to Cloud, he had grabbed their arm and tugged at it.

“It’s important” Cloud urged them, bearing a grave expression.

“Okay…” Wary about whatever he had to say, Y/N faced him completely. “But please make it quick”

They couldn’t really think what was so important. Cloud was basically a stranger, a person that showed up in their lives not long ago. They had only met a day ago and exchanged very few words. What could he have to say with such urgency?

To their bewilderment, Cloud showed them his forearm. Y/N stared, baffled, at his bare skin. There was nothing worth noticing in it.

“Your arm?” They blinked repeatedly. “What about it?”

“It erased already…” Cloud clicked his tongue, now holding his hand up. “Can I have your pen?”

Y/N frowned, carefully taking the pen they always carried in its place tucked over their ear and handing it to him. Cloud’s brows furrowed in concentration as he started writing something down on his own arm.

Startled, Y/N jolted up when they felt something tingling. Butterflies flew in their stomach when they realized it was the exact same spot Cloud was writing in, although he wasn’t touching Y/N’s arm.

Feeling too shocked to utter any words, all they managed to do was look down at their own arm. Y/N then read the words Cloud had written in his, but replicated on their own. They read ‘I think we’re soulmates’.

Y/N shoved a hand against their mouth, staring at Cloud in awe. The both then locked eyes with them, but remained silent. Y/N wondered if he was experiencing the same as them. The racing heart, the shaking knees, the stomach in knots, the urge to smile.

Blindly reaching out, Y/N pulled out a chair without looking away from him and plopped down on it. They took a deep breath when the pressure was lifted from them to remain standing. It felt like too much at the moment.

Moving carefully as to not startle or upset them, Cloud did the same. He sat down on his own chair, right by their side. The silence lingered for several more seconds.

“I… I don’t know what to say…” Y/N finally uttered with a weak voice.

Cloud didn’t reply. Instead, he looked down and wrote down on his arms, right below the words he had previously scribbled and that were starting to erase already.

‘You don’t have to say anything’ He wrote with messy handwriting.

Y/N felt guilty when they recognized the calligraphy. They had seen it before, but had never tried responding to it. They had been scared to commit to their soulmate, but also too busy to focus on other thing that wasn’t work.

They took a deep breath and grabbed a spare pen from their pocket. Their hands were trembling as they began writing a response.

‘I’m sorry that I never spoke to you before but…’ Y/N paused, not knowing how to express themselves. ‘I’m glad I got to meet you’

They smiled, and with the corner of the eye noticed him smiling as well.

‘Me too’ Cloud wrote, not daring to glance up from his arm.

Even if the person he had been waiting for was finally sitting next to him. Even if they were so close that they could touch, but he didn’t reach out. Surprisingly, the moment was mildly awkward taking in consideration they were actual soulmates.

‘I can help you’ Cloud continued, still writing. It felt easier than speaking up. ‘That way you won’t have to be so busy’

‘I would like that’ Y/N replied on their arms. The silence returned, this time calmer. Simpler. More comfortable.

Y/N timidly scooted closer to him. Their sides were brushing now, but even if Cloud slightly tensed up at their sudden closeness, he didn’t move away. Y/N smiled and placed a hesitant hand over his. Cloud didn’t react for several seconds, but then rotated his hand so it was enveloping Y/N’s. When they dared to lean their head on Cloud’s shoulder it felt… perfect. For the first time in they didn’t know how long, Y/N didn’t feel frantic. They could breathe, they could take a break and relax. Now Cloud was there for them, like they would be for him. And they felt safe there with him now.

Tag list: @overpowered-insanity / @xionroxas / @dancewaterdance02 / @little-faerie-artist / @x-joie-x / @goodmorningawfulbye  // If you want to be added or taken off the tag list for these fandoms or characters, let me know!! // Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

[ladyideal]

Unlucky Star

Pairing: Leonard McCoy x Reader

Word Cont: 2064 (oops?)

Warnings: Nudity but not in a smutty way, needles, injections, and lots of fluff, couple ol’ cursing

Summary: While everyone was sick, you weren’t. This time, while everyone was sick free, you caught the cold. Jim tries to intervene on behalf of your health. Leonard takes it upon himself to pull you away from work, and takes care of you.

A/n: This is for @cuddlememerrick​ and everyone feeling sick during this cold and flu season. Take care of yourselves, everyone. Go see a doctor if it worsens. Better safe than sorry. To those are sick, get well soon!

PS: It’s also Valentine’s weekend, so I’ll be taking up drabble requests over the weekend (as I’ve no plans) and finishing up a couple more fics. Expect a couple more posts from me.

(credit to owner for gif)

You were lucky for the most part. Away missions that you went didn’t end in a disaster, you had a job aboard the infamous USS Enterprise, you had friends, and most importantly, you had a wonderful love life. Nothing much you could complain about really.

Above all, you were one of the lucky stars amongst the crew that hardly ever got sick. So while the entire ship had tears watering in their eyes, noses that flowed never ending with snot, and coughs that could be heard from one side of the ship to the other. 

A harmless rhinovirus really, but in just a matter of weeks, the entire crew was infected, sending Leonard into overdrive down at the medbay. Even the Captain was confined to his quarters, in fear of transmitting the cold. However, it was no use. Chekov took the day off, and you were one of the very few dwindling officers left, that could keep their eyes open long enough to see what was in front of them.

You volunteered to take his shifts, seeing how the ship was in quite a disarray at the amount of people sniffling and sneezing around you. If the Romulans knew that just a single bacteria managed to cripple the entire crew, hell it’d spell really bad news for everyone. 

It was only a week later did you really start to notice that something was feeling rather off. 

At first, you’d chalk it up to stress and pulling extra shifts. Less sleep, less food and water, and more hours awake deciphering Chekov’s notes was to blame, you’d thought. However, what really brought your attention, was your soaring uncomfortable fever and wracking cough that shook your body every time you had a coughing fit.

You were doomed for sure. 

Pressing a tissue to your nose as you attempted to steep coffee grounds, you glanced at the chrom. 

“So much for a break,” You mumbled, grabbing the mug of coffee on your out the door and towards the Bridge.

“Afternoon, Captain,” You greeted Jim as you strode past him, giving Chekov a thumbs up on his way out. 

“Afternoon, Lieutenant,” Jim paused, noticing your usual lack of excitement. “Are you alright? It doesn’t sound-.”

“I’m fine, Jimbo,” You took the seat that the Russian whiz kid vacated earlier. “Little tired.” Settling yourself in a better position, you could still feel Jim’s worried eyes on your back.

“If you say so,” Jim reluctantly dropped the topic, although from his tone, he was still worried for you. 

Squinting your eyes to better understand what the hell Chekov left for you on his notes, you started your long, arduous work day on the Bridge. On a normal day, you’d banter back and forth with the Captain to fill the silence as you both worked. Given that you were Leonard’s girlfriend, you were best friends with him too, and enjoyed a couple similar things. For example, hating medbay, disliking authority, getting under the doctor’s skin whenever possible, and taking risks.

Hours ticked by, as you squirmed around in your seat for the umpteenth time. Sweat gathered on your brow, and behind your neck as you focused on your task at hand. With Chekov’s sloppy handwriting, it was a nightmare to sort through his notes each day, something that you’d lectured him whenever you got the chance to do so. 

It was getting ridiculously warm. Fuck. Did Jim mess with the temperature again?

“Lieutenant!” Jim sharply spoke, interrupting your thoughts. He sounded much more worried now, as if he had been trying to gain your attention for quite some time now. 

“Yes, Captain?” You spoke, looking back at him. 

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you wiggling around in your seat like that,” He spoke, observing your hunched up position. “I think you’re sick. I’ll have Bones come up and have a quick look at you.”

“Captain, I assure you that I’m fine. Leonard’s finally able to relax after that disaster month of a cold,” You protested, but quickly faltered as he commed your boyfriend up from the medbay.  

“Y/N, you need rest and time off to take care of yourself. We can’t have another fiasco like last month again,” Jim continued. “I’ll have someone take the rest of your shift.”

You grumbled wordlessly, appreciating the warmth and concern from your friendship with him, but irritated as he was one that never took his own advice. “You’re an ass.”

“What’s this about being an ass?” A familiar baritone voice drew out from the doors. 

Leonard.

“Bones, there you are,” Jim brightened up, throwing his best friend his usual shit eating grin. “We were just talking about how Y/N over there looked a little pale, and agreed that it’d be better if you took a glance.”

You silently fumed at Jim’s words, glaring down at the numbers in front of you. Trust Jim to roll you into this mess. 

“You telling me, Jim, that there was no emergency?” Leonard grumbled loudly. 

“Yeah Jimbo, there’s nothing wrong,” You added your words into the growing fire. 

“You wound me,” Jim feigned horror, clutching his hands together in front of his heart.  

“You’ll live.”

Rolling his eyes at his best friend, Leonard strode to your station with his emergency medkit in hand, and squatted down till he was eye level with you. 

“Sweetheart, look at me,” He softly ordered. While you stubbornly sat there, he gently placed his fingers around your chin, quietly encouraging you to do so.

He regarded your red eyes, stuffy nose, and very dry, chapped lips. “You’re sick, sugar.”

“‘M not sick, Len.‘m fine,” You hoarsely managed out. “Just a couple more minutes.”

He raised his signature eyebrow look, already exasperated that you were trying to fight him on this already. “Even the strong eventually falls ill.”

Hearing the evidence of your sickness, Leonard brought the back of his hand to your forehead, feeling the uncomfortable warmth radiating behind your skin. “And a fever too.”

He sighed, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “C’mon sweetheart, let’s get you outta here first.”

“Len, honey, I’m-,” You tried again, but stopped as he threw a pointed look at you. “Okay, alright, alright, you win. I’ll go”

“Take care of her, Bones,” Jim added cheekily before you and Leonard headed towards the turbolift. 

You threw him a glare before the doors closed. 

“Unbelievable, darlin’. Why didn’t you comm me that you were sick?” The doctor pulled out his handy dandy tricorder, giving you a whirl as it no doubt scanned you. 

“You were tired, I was tired,” You shrugged.

“My god, darlin’. How long have you let this continue?” He scowled down at his tricorder, taking in the numbers displayed. 

“A day or three,” You squeaked out. Now that you weren’t forced to compensate for your work, your sickness rapidly took over again. 

“A day or - Jesus, that is ridiculously bullheaded of you,” He put away his tricorder, gently tucking away an errant hair. “In your state, you would benefit from an IV saline overnight, but I assume that’s a no go.”

You pulled out your best puppy dog eyes at him. 

 “Alright sweetheart, I can make sure you’re comfortable down in our quarters too,” He relented. “You know I would do anything with those eyes.”

“What are you gonna do, hypo me into next week so I don’t have to suffer?” You lifted your eyes hopefully at him. 

“Even better,” He breathed, crowding into your space. “I’ll draw you a bath, even drop in your favorite bath bomb, make some food for you, and then wrap you up so we can snuggle up together on the couch with ice cream to soothe your throat while we watch some holos.”

You leaned on him, already closing your eyes to imagine it all. “Mmm,” you hummed. “I like that.”

Before long, while you were stripping your clothes off into a mess on the floor of your shared quarters, Leonard turned the taps on to fill the tub. 

You rubbed your eyes tiredly as you examined yourself in the mirror. “God damn,” you muttered. 

“Don’t think much of it,” Your boyfriend spoke, turning around to watch you. “You’re sick. Water’s ready.”

You stuck a finger in to test the water, but recoiled instantly at the touch of the icy cold water, and reproachfully glanced back at him. 

“You don’t want the saline, this is the next best way to lower that fever,” was all the explanation you received. 

With an unhappy scowl, you slowly lowered yourself in while Leonard came back with a chair and a washcloth. 

As you laid back back, you let your eyes flutter close, dropping your tense shoulders. 

“That’s it,” The doctor encouraged, gently dabbing away at your forehead with the cold washcloth. “Computer, bathroom light to 30%”

You groaned in earnest, satisfied with the amount of attention you were receiving and the dim lighting you were in. 

“Here, let me wash your hair real fast,” he spoke quietly, reaching over to grab your bottle of shampoo and a jug of warm water he’d placed to the side earlier..

After pouring some water on your head, he squirted a dollop into his hands and slowly massaged it into your hair. Humming an unfamiliar tune, you let yourself drift off in bliss as Leonard worked his way out from the scalp. His long, talented fingers did not miss a place, gently smoothing out each strand out.

It was pure heaven.

Before you knew it, he was pouring the rest of the water to get the suds out. “Let’s get you outta there before you start shivering.” 

Letting the water drain and helping you up to your feet, he grabbed a nearby definitely-not-standard-Starfleet  extremely fluffy towel from the rack and ever so gently dried you off.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you yawned, feeling so much better than just a mere few hours ago.

“Incoming,” he warned, throwing you your pair of pajamas, and lastly, your panties to your face.

You did your best to scowl at him, but failed as you ended up chuckling at his antics.

 “Why don’t you go get yourself comfortable on the couch, and I’ll bring you something to eat?” He suggested, placing another hand on your forehead.

You nodded. When he was satisfied that the heat behind your skin had lessened, he left for the kitchen to get you your dinner. 

Stretching yourself out on the couch, you reached out for the plaid blanket draped over the cushions, while scrolling through the tv guide for something to watch. 

The scent of chicken noodle soup filled the air, turning your gaze towards the hallway as Leonard emerged with two bowls of soup and a hypo all balanced on a tray.

“Found anything eye catching yet?” He asked, carefully handling over your bowl. 

“Not yet,” You replied, thanking him with a nod. “How’s your day been?”

You scooped up spoonful after spoonful of soup as you listen to him talk about those unfortunate to be stuck down in the medbay. Idiots, he had called them. 

When you and Leonard both had your fill, you watched as Leonard picked up the hypo. Knowing the routine, you tilted your head to the side, so he had better access to your neck.You felt his warm fingers splayed around your throat, seeking out a landmark for the injection. 

“Quick pinch,” He warned. You closed your eyes before the slight sting, which was made instantly better by his gentle massage. 

You must have made a noise of happiness as he stopped, softly kissing your forehead. Sickness be damned. He was a doctor, he didn’t get sick.

“Stay right where you are, darlin, and let me go get those ice cream,” He grinned at you, before moving off the couch. 

It took a few minutes before you finally decided on the cheesy, yet classic movie: The Titanic. Leonard returned with two ice creams and spoons, placing them within arms distance  on the coffee table in front.

At last, he snuggled up closer to you, pulling you tighter to him. “What are we watching, sweetheart?”

“The Titanic,” You grinned at him, enjoying the relaxed smile he had beaming on his face. 

“Of course,” He rolled his eyes good naturedly, but settled in.

“Leonard?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for taking care of me.”

“My pleasure, sugar.”

 (My masterlist is also up for those interested)

[fuck-customers]

Once its done its its

It's been a couple days hut this still irks me to no end.

Had this lady ask me literally right after i clocked on and was out front trying to find out my job for the day was about an item if/where we had it could someone get it for her since apparently she was too fucking blind to figure it out on her own.

I told her as politely as possible that I wasn't sure and didn't have a phone on me, but she could ask her cashier and the cashier could call the department in question and find out if we had it/have it brought up. Everything seemed fine and it allowed me to sort my shit out because we were INSANELY busy because holidays and really didn't need a person going on a wild goose chase for something they had NO knowledge about when were calling for back ups (read that at least 4 extras) from other departments to deal with how many people were in the lines. i literally could not have reasonably gotten to a phone before she could ask her cashier for help which is straight up one of the cashiers jobs and guess what I ain't always set to be? Yeah. not always my fucking job, for all I knew i was on the opposite end of the department which i needed to find out about before wasting 10 minutes on someone stupid ass non dairy sour cream when someone else could do it well before i would be able to.

Turns out i was a bagger that day and end up being just in time to help bag her shit... Of course. And what does do as soon as she sees me? Takes a child stomping on the ground not getting what they want pose in the middle fo the register and announces that she wants to speak to a manager because the lady up front is refusing to help her!!!!  I drop her shit and go to another register because fuck that, i told you where to get help because i literally did not have the capacity to give it to you in that moment, and i'm not required to put up with that shit. I'm allowed to walk away/have a pic take over and because i'm in a union position they can't ignore it. 

I felt so bad for the cashier after that because apparently she refused to pay for her food until she got to talk to a manager- then proceeded to lie to mod when they got there about me (which my manager confirmed for me when i spoke to her about what happened, not that she cared it was just someone being a holiday cunt) and later found out that even mod felt like she was putting words in her mouth the entire time.

At some point while waiting for mod, she actually came all the way around the register from grabbing some items (i i ha a feeling it included the sour cream she wanted) and passive agressively, snottily, like a pissed off child leaned over me and said "see? You could have just gone and gotten it for me couldn't you?" Which leads me to believe she literally did all this on purpose because she had nothing better to do with herself? She's a rotten hag? Idk? But obviously at that point it was straight up on purpose.

So i told her no I could not have because it wasn't my job at the time and i had no ability to help her because F U C K T H A T S H I T. 

The real kicker isn't even all of this though. No no, it didn't end there after she got her (hopefully rotten) sour cream or talking to mod, no this cunt waffle CAME BACK AN HOUR LATER AND TRAPPED A SUPP AND MY MANAGER IN CUSTOMER SERVICE FOR ANOTHER 10-20 MINUTES AFTER THE FACT. She must have been looking for some kind of compensation because my supp said it literally wasn't even anything that mattered and the manager just kept going "kay" till she left.

I really fucking hope her sour cream rotted before she got home.

[snowbellewells]

The Lawman, The Thief and The Outlaw: Chapter Two

{Thank you SO much to @searchingwardrobes​ for the amazing cover art! I’m so flattered that she would do that for my story, and I am absolutely in love with it! :)  Also, a stunned and blushing thanks to @let-it-raines​ for recc’ing this fic on CS Fic Rec Monday, I feel honored to be included and mentioned.  And thanks to all of you who read Chapter One for waiting patiently for this next installment.  I know right where it goes from here, so hopefully it will be less time between this and Chapter Three! }

Summary: Sheriff Killian Jones has done his best to leave behind a troubled past and bring law and order to the town of Blanchard Ridge. However, when he upholds his duty in the face of the most feared and dangerous outlaw gang in the area, allies are few and he dreads trapping them in the same situation he finds himself. The small Western town is about to become a powder keg, and one lawman, his deputies, and a resourceful woman too stubborn for her own good are all that stand in the way of bloodshed and lawlessness...

Chapter One 

Chapter Two

Mere minutes passed before Sheriff Jones heard the hurried pounding of booted feet along the boardwalk where Doc Hopper kept his office three buildings down from the Nolans’ inn. Dave and the boy hadn’t wasted any time fetching the doctor, for which Killian was glad, and as the three of them drew close, he merely held open the saloon-style swinging door and motioned them through. One last glance around the long, hot main drag showed things to be as quiet and deserted as they had seemed before the cattle train rode in. One would never guess a man had been shot down where he stood not even a half hour ago if he didn’t already know it. Killian knew he wouldn’t see anything helpful out there at that point, but he didn’t have to like it. All the same, he turned with impotent frustration sticking in his craw to follow the others inside.

The room where Robin was lying had gotten fairly crowded, between Mary Nolan standing back with a washbasin of red-tinged water and blood-stained towel in hand, looking worried but as if she had managed to staunch the flow of blood, along with her husband, Henry, and the doc all crowded in. Killian didn’t have much choice but to observe from the doorway, without making the space so tight Hopper couldn’t do his job.

He had thought Rob was well out of it, unaware of the proceedings, and probably for the best at that, until Hopper probed the edge of the bullet wound and he flinched, body curling inward in self-preservation and letting out a pained growl at the treatment.

“Apologies, Mr. Sherwood,” Hopper murmured, glancing up to meet the cattleman’s eyes with a look of chagrin at the discomfort he was causing. The doc was not by nature outgoing, but more soft-spoken and reserved. If Killian had not seen Hopper save more than one life with his own eyes, he might’ve even appeared incapable with the seeming uncertainty his manners displayed. Time and experience had shown Jones otherwise though, and he had no doubt that Rob was in the best possible hands this far West. Still, it was clear that the bespectacled and ginger haired physician hated inducing pain, even if it was necessary for the treatment and for healing to begin.

To his credit, Sherwood merely nodded his understanding and grit his teeth against further pained outbursts. His eyelids fluttered somewhat hazily, but he remained conscious, if not terribly alert. Killian would venture to guess that it was not the first time the other man had been patched up from a bullet wound. They had never avidly compared scars, but he knew enough to recognize another person with a similarly checkered past, and there had certainly been times long before his stint as a lawman in a frontier outpost when he had stared down the wrong end of a six shooter. 

Thankfully, before too much longer, the doc was able to ascertain that the bullet had exited cleanly, had disinfected the entry and exit points, and stitched Robin back together as neatly as Killian had ever seen it done. Robin had succumbed to the shock and blood loss and slid into a fitful doze, but not before making it clear to Killian that once he was mobile again, he would help the sheriff in whatever way needed to bring those outlaws to justice.

His young hand, Henry, and Killian had both chuckled at that, knowing Sherwood meant the words he spoke, but also that he would have a hard time following through. Lady Sherwood would undoubtedly have something to say about him chasing desperadoes, and she would be far from happy. Rob would be lucky not to have his head bitten off before his injury had even healed.

Yet, by the same turn, it seemed that the day’s events had galvanized more than the injured rancher himself to action. The wide-eyed young man Sherwood had taken under his wing was ready to do no less than sign up as a deputy then and there, not intending to let the attack on his boss and father figure go unanswered. Killian could certainly stand to have an extra gun in his corner. If Henry was any good, and rumor had it he was - startlingly so - then it might be a definite advantage indeed. Still, he wouldn’t have one so innocent and untried blackening his soul on a whim either. This standoff with Malcolm would get ugly before it was through; Killian knew that in his gut, just as he knew the sun would rise each morning and sink again each night. Something about Henry reminded him of the blissfully ignorant immigrant boy he’d been long ago, drinking in all the sights of a new land spread out before him, with Liam still comfortingly at his side, and dreams of the adventure they’d have, the heroes’ journey on which they had been about to embark. He hated to see that spark of hope and belief go out of such trusting eyes if he could do anything to prevent it.

Again fighting off the flashes of old memory - dredged up for the second time in one day, what was coming over him? - Killian refocused his attention on Hopper telling them that barring any infection and Sherwood taking enough time to recover from the blood loss, he should make a full recovery. After informing them that he would be back the next day to check in, and nodding to them all as he stood, the doc moved to see himself out, followed closely by Mary Nolan, who clearly meant to dispose of the soiled rags and dump the water in her tub, but was thanking him for coming as they exited the room.

Killian followed them quietly, hat in hand as they moved into the inn’s main bar and dining area. He would see Doc Hopper later in his offices about the bill for Robin’s treatment. He certainly didn’t want word getting out that Blanchard Ridge was a town which couldn’t take care of its own, where a man could be gunned down in the street and no one would pay any mind. For the moment however, his larger focus was on catching up to Mary and inquiring as to whether or not there were rooms available to put up the rancher and his crew for a few days while Sherwood recuperated. They could bill it to the Sheriff’s office if need be, but again, it only seemed right.

He followed her through the staff doors to the kitchen, watching the petite, dark-haired spitfire of a woman bustle across the room to toss the basin’s contents out the back door onto the dry, New Mexico dirt, turning it yet more crimson. When she whipped around to get back to work, drying her hands on her apron, he accidentally startled her into jumping anxiously he was following so closely on her heels.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, one hand flying up to cover her heart at the start he had given her. “Killian! I didn’t know you were there!”

“Sorry,” he offered, giving her a dip of his chin in further apology, and finding that his hand made its way of its own accord to scratch behind one ear, a sheepish mannerism of which he seemed unable to rid himself. “Wasn’t trying to give you a scare… I only wanted to inquire if you had room here to put up Sherwood and the boy - and any of his riders who aren’t moving on as well. We’ll see that you and David are compensated, of course.”

Taking him by surprise, the inn’s proprietress fluttered her hand at him in dismissal of the offered pay. “Nonsense!” she hushed, seemingly unfazed by the fact that he was a world-weary and rough cowboy who stood a head taller than her at least. Instead, her manner reminded him more of someone affectionately scolding a wayward child. “You’ll do no such thing. David and I will see that he’s properly looked after. It’s the least we can do, seeing as how we are an inn.  That poor man certainly can’t be expected to sit a horse and ride on home just after being shot.”

She moved about the large, open room as she spoke, pulling out vegetables, pots, and pans (no doubt needing to begin planning the next day’s menu for guests) and wiping down the counter as she spoke. When Killian didn’t offer any further response, Mary Nolan glanced up to study his expression, then came forward to press his hand between both of her small, cool palms and grace him with an understanding smile as she tilted her head back to look into his eyes.

“Killian,” she said, softly, making sure he digested her words when she paused for emphasis. “You have more than enough to worry about - what with Malcolm and his henchmen, trying to keep everyone safe… That’s more than enough for one man - no matter how capable!” she rushed to add with an indulgent chuckle when she saw him opening his mouth to correct her. “More than enough for one lawman to be getting along with. You let David and I see to our guests. It’s what we can do to help.”

A smile played at the corners of Jones’ mouth at her words, touched by the sentiment of them, and that she and her husband would understand and appreciate what he was trying to do enough that they would wish to help if they could.  Letting a lazy smirk raise his smile at one end along with a wink of his deep blue eyes, Killian reached up to hold the brim of his Stetson between his thumb and forefinger, tipping his hat to her with every bit of playfully rakish charm he possessed. “Why, thank you, Lady Nolan,” he drawled. “Much obliged to you, Ma’am.”

“Oh posh,” she huffed out, shooing him from her kitchen with a corresponding attitude of playful exasperation, even as he could see a bright pink flush rising high on her usually pale alabaster cheeks. “Get on out of here, you rascal! I have work to do!”

Chuckling good naturedly, Killian followed her directives as she hustled him from the kitchen, knowing he needed to get back to the jail, ascertain if Scarlet had returned, and see to their prisoner. He would find his way back shortly for the evening meal.

But, once he left the kitchen and crossed the main dining area, his eyes were inevitably drawn toward the guests’ parlor where a cozy fire burned in the hearth, a merry tune was being plucked out by someone on the piano out of sight in the corner, and the pleasant hum of conversation filled the air. Most evenings found at least two or three card games going in the inn’s sitting room, and that night seemed to be no exception. The difference that immediately drew his eye was the vision seated at one of the tables facing toward him in the doorway, dealing out the next hand like she’d been born with a deck in her grasp. The pretty newcomer from the stage earlier that day - all bright blond hair, now refreshed and styled from the long, dusty ride that afternoon and falling down over her shoulders in lustrous, cascading waves. The jade of her eyes was practically crackling with bright enthusiasm as the next round of poker commenced, and she kept pace with every man seated around her, clearly relishing the competition.

Transfixed in spite of the nightly duties calling his name back at the jail, Killian paused, drinking in the sight of the woman whose arrival both tempted and teased him in a way he didn’t fully understand. The trim smart cut of her evening dress made his eye linger almost unwillingly as he took in the way its dove grey skirt clung to her slender but still shapely form. He didn’t aim to ogle her like some ruffian, but it was hard to keep his gaze as respectful as he would like when the sedate, muted color of the fitted skirt gave way to the deep, eye-catching garnet of the bodice cut distractingly low in the bosom, and deliciously snug at the tiny waist. It was almost more than a simple man could bear, if he were being honest. And he didn’t know if the particular dress was meant for the purpose of distracting her fellow players that night, or if the lady was just aware of what style most suited her, but she was clearly not afraid to use her assets to her advantage. Sheriff and honorable man or no, Killian Jones found himself rather grateful, whatever her reason, and as he traced the tip of his tongue across his lower lip, he could barely pull his gaze away.

She appeared to have drawn a winning hand, he mused as she gathered the chips of the first loser at her table to fold. A soft, small smile teased at his lips at the pleased smirk of satisfaction on her face. She obviously knew they’d underestimated her skill because of her gender, and she was only too happy to prove them wrong. And yet, all that close attention drew Killian’s eye eventually from the lady’s appealing form and figure to what she was doing under all of their noses. Even at that, if he hadn’t been looking so closely he wouldn’t have caught what he now thought she was up to. A niggling feeling of troubled recognition crept into his mind, and he knew he would have to go and see if he was right, though he couldn’t rightly remember ever wanting so badly to be wrong before.

One by one, the woman took out the other players, slowly and methodically, as if she could sit there and play all night. There was nothing overtly suspicious in her game - nor her continued winning. Most card players firmly believed in getting “hot” or finding themselves on a lucky streak. Jones truly hoped that was all it was - that the forewarning he felt as he continued to watch was wrong. But then, she called a bluff, one that she shouldn’t have possibly been able to counter by his observant calculations, and as his eyes narrowed, he saw the slick move those playing with her had missed.

She was cheating them all - or he was almost certain of it - and masterfully so at that. No one but he seemed to be the wiser. Half of him was powerfully tempted to stalk over there, haul her to her feet, and drag her back to the jail with him. Grinding his teeth together so hard a muscle in his jaw twitched, Killian managed to hold himself back, but it was a near thing. That sort of chicanery - and money loss - was exactly what started brawls and ended with damages, injuries, and possible deaths. But he’d bide his time in confronting her; he didn’t want the players left at the table crying to have her strung up either.

Stalking purposely from the Nolans’ establishment out into the cool night air at last, he took long, ground-covering strides across the hard-packed earth to the other side of the street and up the steps to his jail. Pausing just before he reached the door, he called out in warning, “Hey Smee, it’s Jones! Don’t blow my head off!”

A moment later, the top of a rapidly balding head and the squinting eyes of a shorter-than-average middle-aged man peered out the barred window of the main door into the jail, revealing his other deputy and long time friend, William Smee. Killian had left him as lookout while he went to run errands and make sure all was squared away for them to hunker down in the jail the next several nights. Smee had an old injury which had left him with a hitching, unsteady gait and kept him from riding much distance or getting around very quickly, but he was as loyal as they came and took the guard duty Killian gave him as a second deputy with genuine seriousness - perhaps even a mite too much enthusiasm.

“Well, I ‘kin see it’s you! Quit yammerin’ and git on in here!” the man called back, sounding as if he were already fired up over something and in a foul temper. Normally the squirrelly little man with a gimpy leg and rather rotund belly was more deferential to Killian in his address, even taking to calling him ‘Captain’ playfully if Killian got too demanding or brusque in handing out each day’s duties to his men.

Huffing out a breath of half-amusement and half-annoyance, not sure which side to fall more squarely upon at that moment, Jones entered the jail, barely offering a greeting to Smee as he stepped back from raising the deadbolt to allow him entrance. “Has there been trouble?” he asked lowly, voice quiet so as not to alert Scarlet, who had returned and was sitting at the small table across the room from the cells nursing a whiskey he didn’t need, nor their prisoner, who would only delight in any sort of fear or disruption.

Smee shook his head, the whiskers on his jowls practically quivering. He followed his boss further into the room as Sheriff Jones moved toward the board full of active “Wanted” posters, hoping that his eyes would prove him mistaken in the conclusion that had formed in his brian. He knew the shorter man was moving with him from the distinctively off-kilter sound of his shuffle-hopped step on the rough hewn wood floor.

“If there’s no trouble, then what has you so trigger happy?” he asked idly, eyes still scanning the rough sketches before him.

“Well, I ...that is… I mean… you did tell me to stand guard. Make sure nobody unexpected got in here while you was gone,” Smee explained haltingly. “How’m I ‘sposed to do that if’n I don’t have myself ready to stop ‘em?”

A sigh escaped Jones as his eyes came to rest on just the confirmation he had hoped he wouldn’t get. Reaching out to snatch the offending handbill from the board with a rip of paper and growl of anger, he turned to storm back out. He should have known the second his interest was stirred… Romance had never led to anything good for him. “I’ll be right back,” he snarled, a quick glance over his shoulder showing Smee staring after him in confusion as he stalked back the way he had come.

It was the matter of only minutes to see him tromping back into the Nolan establishment, disgruntled, worried, angry, and disappointed. He shouldn’t have let himself feel that first moment’s intrigue; it could only lead to trouble. He had forced himself long ago - after the loss of his last family, and the brutal loss of his love as well - to accept that though he might have allies, acquaintances, folks in his corner he was friendly with, he was unloved and unloving in that bone-deep, consuming way that warmed a man’s life of the cold loneliness and mattered most to him in the end. Love had only brought him pain, and he had let himself start to toy with the notion again - only to be brought up short by reality once more.

Heading straight to the gaming tables, Killian found himself just in time to see the game his lovely mystery woman had been been a part of breaking up. The maddening blonde in question was just watching her final opponent walk away with a pleased twinkle in her eye, and as the man shuffled off, head down, shamed face hidden beneath his hat, and pockets much lighter from his loss, Killian couldn’t help shaking his head in disbelieving exasperation as she leaned over the table to scrape her heap of winnings toward herself, giving him an exceedingly enticing view as she did. While he was reluctant to admire the dangerous game she was playing, she was awfully good at it.

Waiting patiently, Killian made his way toward the bar, ignoring the tempting call of the appeasing oblivion he had often escaped into in the past from the libations on offer there. He carefully kept an eye on the intriguing stranger his handbill called “the Swan”, as he also attempted to blend in with the patrons until he was ready to make his presence known.

Once his target had gathered her winnings and begun to move from the room toward the stars, no doubt up to her rented night’s lodgings, Killian waited a mere handful of seconds before pushing away from the bar where he had been leaning with a feigned casual air before slowly crossing the floor to trail her. As he neared the foot of the building’s impressive staircase, he just caught the flash of her crimson garment disappearing around the corner to the second floor hall.

Hurrying up the steps as well, Jones moved with both as much speed and stealth as he could muster, needing to know which room his quarry entered. Thankfully, as he neared the top, he heard her low, smooth voice, the same one that had compelled him with its subtle lilt as she had greeted him playfully mere hours earlier, stopped in passing conversation with the inn’s proprietress. Mary Nolan’s chipper, sweetly inflected voice was easily recognizable as she asked if her guest had everything she needed. Killian looked about him swiftly for a place to retreat, knowing the friendly woman would give him away, or bar his passage for propriety’s sake, if she met him there in the hall, but thankfully as he dared a glance around the corner, Mrs. Nolan disappeared into another room with a basket of folded laundry in her arms, while the last swish of those charcoal skirts also caught Killian’s eye just before the door at the furthest end of the hall closed soundly.

Blowing out a short, decisive breath, Killian squared his shoulders and strode forward to that door. Readying himself, hand bill still clutched in his grip to make the accusation that was already burning on his tongue, the sheriff rapped decisively, steeling himself for the unpleasant confrontation ahead.

The door jerked open abruptly, revealing his card shark of a culprit already speaking to whom she must assume was the returning innkeeper’s wife. “As I said before, I’m really fine, thank you, Mrs. Nol - “ before her words trailed off, a flush climbing up her cheeks even as her eyes rose up his form assessingly until reaching and holding his own. She had clearly already begun her evening’s undressing, he thought with heat of his own on the back of his neck, as her hair had been loosed from its updo to cascade riotously around her face and down her back, and she stood before him in stockinged feet, her little heeled boots kicked off by the edge of her bed as his eyes quickly surveyed the room. The whole effect did make his breath strangle in his windpipe and he had to shake his head to clear it before speaking. ‘Blast it all, Jones, keep it together,’ his inner voice berated him as he fought to gather himself. 

For her part, the newcomer had caught her breath sharply, staring back at him still wide-eyed. “You aren’t Mrs. Nolan,” she finally breathed with a flustered shake of her pretty head.

“Nope,” Jones replied, a part of him wishing he could simply be pleased by the fact that she seemed nearly as flustered as he was himself and leave the rest of his concerns behind. “In fact, can’t say as I’ve ever been confused for her before.”

A rueful smile crossed her perfect, full lips as she leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms over her chest. “Well then, Sheriff,” she teased, that mischeivous glimmer of her eyes showing once more, along with the dimple in her cheek. “Seeing as how you haven’t come to offer me fresh towels or an extra blanket, what is it I can do for you?”

Killian cursed himself twice over for a fool as the reason he was standing at her door was pressed firmly to the forefront of his mind again. How was it that she could charm him so quickly that his purpose fled his memory in seconds?

Clearing his throat, rather uncomfortable accosting and accusing a woman so blatantly - even with the knowledge the “Wanted” poster provided, and the game play he had witnessed downstairs to back him up. False accusations could be made on the fliers, after all, and he wasn’t certain of what he had seen, only that it had looked like she’d cheated several people, quite soundly, at cards, just as the hand bill claimed she was wont to do. “Well, you see,” he offered, slowly holding up the paper with a sketched likeness of her face, her supposed crimes, and the reward offered for her capture up where she could see it clearly, and hating that he felt he was somehow ruining the most enjoyable conversation he’d had in ages, he continued, “there is the matter of this bill.”

The beguiling vixen before him (whom the flyer deemed one “Emma Swan”) immediately transformed from pleasantly amused and curious to defensive and hurt - her spine straightening sharply, eyes sliding from his own, just glancing at the sketch of herself and then off to the side. Though she was almost sizzling, trembling with restrained affront and insult, Killian didn’t miss the wet sheen that glazed her lovely green eyes; the accusation clearly cutting more deeply than he would have expected.

“That blasted thing just won’t stop ruining me,” she hissed, quickly turning her back on him and withdrawing into the room, but not - he noticed, unaccountably pleased - ordering him out or slamming the door in his face as he had expected. He thought he caught a quick swipe of her hand that might have been trying to brush away a rogue tear undetected, but it happened to quickly to be sure.

Killian was about to step forward and explain himself, and why, though he hated to become an enemy he couldn’t let crime and theft fester in the town he sought to protect, when she caught him off guard once again. (Frightening how often this slender young woman managed that, really.) Where a moment prior vulnerability and a tinge of fear had painted her features, now a wall was up. She looked guarded and ready to fight; her eyes practically flashing in their fiery indignation as her hands found a place on her hips. “Did it ever occur to you that I might have been set up?” she spat, words coming so quickly that he couldn’t get a word in to argue as she stepped closer, nearly toe-to-toe with him. “I’m no cheat!” she continued to rail, both her passionate voice and the intense expression she wore daring him to contradict her. “Contrary to what you’ve clearly already chosen to believe.”

Not having expected her to rally with such vigor, Sheriff Jones was taken aback, but resolute to see his duty through now that he’d begun. Not to mention that a bit of his own native stubbornness and temper was riled now by her making him feel bad simply for doing his job. “Now, see here, Miss Swan,” he fired back. “That is your name, isn’t it? Emma Swan?”

She gave a sharp jerk of the head in confirmation.

His voice was roughened with feeling, letting more of his accent - never quite lost despite all the years between - making itself known as he pressed on. “I have an obligation to check out suspicious persons. The town and its citizens depend on me for their safety. It’s nothing personal, Swan - just my job. Of course mistakes can be made, but…” he wet his lips, the fire rolling in his blood not at all calmed by how close she was standing, her sweet, delicious scent of apple and - was that cinnamon? - nor the way her chest was heaving with her fit of pique. “But I did see you clean out all those solid players downstairs, in a game that went so fast it hardly seemed natural.”

She pursed her lips, as if considering for a moment, and then something like bitter resignation and almost melancholy swept over the anger and usurped control of her face. “And did it ever strike you that I just might be that good?”

The question stopped him cold. He really hadn’t, and now as well as the frustration, attraction and doubt, there was regret swirling in his mind. “Well,” he allowed, speaking slowly as he mulled over how to progress from there. “That was mighty skilled indeed then, Milady. I don’t supposed you’d want to roll up your sleeves and empty your pockets to prove yourself? Show me I’ve gotten you all wrong? Getting poker hands like you must have been to clean them all out so easily would be best achieved by hiding cards on your person, aye?”

Rather than seeing his words as a chance to clear her name however, this Emma clearly took further offense. Arching a brow at him, she snorted indelicately, shaking her head as she took a step back so he could see her entire form clearly. “That easy for you, is it?” she questioned, gauging his intentions and deciding not to make his task easy. Her look was positively wicked as she stared right back, sizing him up before speaking. “See, I think you need to prove what you claim I’ve done. If you look at bit closer at that bill, you’ll see it says suspected accomplice, and that the reward is for information, not capture. And I am certainly not about to admit a crime I didn’t commit.” She paused and gave a meaningful look down at the tight, corseted bodice of her dress and the skin bared at the neckline. “So, go ahead, Sheriff.  You think I’m hiding cards? Search me.”

His mouth went completely dry at that - the issued challenge both hurting his pride and seeming all too inviting at once. But he wasn’t about to let it show, not if he could help it. Instead, he schooled his features and put a flirtatious tilt into his own smile as he took a step further into the room and closer to her. “Careful now, Darlin’...” he murmured, hoping he might just startle her into backing down. “I do love a challenge.”

Instead of drawing back, that pert little chin tilted up defiantly, and Emma Swan met his eye without even blinking. She was calling his bluff, despite this being no card game, and Killian was about as tangled and turned around by the last few minutes as a newly roped and branded calf. He wasn’t even sure at present if he wanted to win or lose their standoff. Then, she moved closer still, her delicate, soft hand on his chest, and peered up into his eyes with an insouciant smirk. Cautioning him even as she reeled him in, she replied without missing a beat. “Be that as it may,” she winked, “I think you’re the one who won’t be able to handle this.”

Tagging: @kmomof4​ @jennjenn615​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @thisonesatellite​ @thislassishooked​ @therooksshiningknight​ @laschatzi​ @winterbaby89​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @spartanguard​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @gingerchangeling​ @teamhook​ @revanmeetra87​ @eala-captian​ @lfh1962-lfh1226-linda​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @searchingwardrobes​ @let-it-raines​ @hollyethecurious​ @profdanglaisstuff​

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

My Little Secret part 4

I tried to edit something on the original post and when it saved, it deleted all of the text! So I have to repost. Also, Tumblr won’t let me tag anything with “trigger warning” in it without raising red flags so please pay attention to the warning below!

Summary: You run in with Arthur again, though you face some trouble later. What happens next?

Warnings: This chapter contains some content that may be troubling or triggering for some, such as attempted assault of the sexual kind! Reader discretion is advised.

Thursday was an easy day for you; reserved for studying during the day before bartending at night. It’d been two days since the ghost hunt at Shady Belle, and you’d pushed most of the strange encounter out of your mind in favor for your academics. You’d successfully gotten through the majority of the day working on papers and brushing up on older material, compensating for your reluctance earlier in the week.

Still, though, something about what happened wrapped around your subconscious like tendrils. You couldn’t exactly shake it, or figure out why.

As day turned into evening, you got ready for your shift at the bar before leaving. With it being a Thursday, it was a decent crowd, though nothing compared to the weekends. A diverse mixture of all ages drinking and swaying with the music overhead.

An hour passed into your shift and you’d immersed yourself entirely in a conversation with one of the tipsy patrons, a man in his 50’s, a regular who always tipped you extra if you wore a low-cut shirt, which you happened to wear today. You were used to his glazed eyes wandering down to your cleavage, as well as a few lame pick-up lines that you always humored, but politely turned down at the end of the night.

“Yer so gorgeous,” the man complimented with a toothy grin. “I keep tellin ya, I’d treat you right if you were mine.”

You giggled slightly, giving him a polite smile as you poured him another drink. “I treat myself just fine, Tom.”

“Ah, wouldn’t hurt to try, would it?” He chuckled with a wink.

You silently handed him his next drink and swept your gaze over the bar in search of new customers. Your eyes landed on a new but familiar figure, surprise washing over you despite the small some of excitement that accompanied it.

“Arthur!” You greeted him.

His eyes met yours, and a small smile crossed his lips. “Evenin’, Y/N. Nice to see ya again.”

“You too,” you responded, and then quirked an eyebrow. “Ya know, for someone who doesn’t drink, you seem to like being in bars a lot.”

Arthur chuckled slightly. “Well, maybe I just like the company.”

Your cheeks burned slightly, though unsure of it was a compliment toward you, or if he meant the bar in general. Either way, you were glad the dim lights masked the color on your face.

“By the way, that man ain’t botherin’ you?” Arthur continued, tilting his head toward Tom just a few stools down.

“Oh, him?” You waved it off with a laugh. “He’s harmless. He likes to flirt, but he gives me good tips.”

Arthur hummed in response. “You ain’t uncomfortable with that?”

You shrugged. “Not at all, if showing off the goods a little means a little more pocket money, I’m fine with that.”

Arthur chuckled once without humor, though you could detect a small frown on those full lips. You were curious as to why. “So, uh, are you gonna order another drink to…smell?” You asked.

The subject change caused him to laugh again. “Nah, just here to relax. Nice change of scenery after spendin’ the last few nights in Saint Denis.”

“So you like being out in the country? Or just small university towns?”

He shrugged. “More or less. I prefer to be out west, though.”

“Is that where you’re from originally?” You asked.

“I spent a lot of my early life out there, so in a way.” He answered with a small smile.

That did explain a little more about himself. While working here and going to school, you met many people from everywhere within the United States. Most people from out west were either wannabe cowboys or hipsters, at least the ones that stood out to you. Arthur somehow seemed a little different, though you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

Peculiar he was, especially from your first interaction with him. Though each encounter has become more pleasant, and you learned a little more about him each time.

You chatted with him for another moment before being pulled away with the arrival of more alcohol-thirsty patrons. Setting yourself back into drink making mode, a half hour had passed before you had a moment to breathe. By then you’d also noticed Arthur had left the bar, though unsure if he were elsewhere in the crowd or not.

The rest of the night continued smoothly, thankfully finishing your duties before clocking out at 12:30. As you left the building, you could hear some stragglers driving away or attempting to catch rides home.

The parking lot was fairly empty aside from a couple of cars sporadically parked here and there. As your stepped onto the asphalt, a chill ran down your spine, producing a shiver that nearly rattled your teeth. Why? It wasn’t cold out, though something felt…off. As if something was lurking within the shadows.

You shook your head, scolding yourself mentally. The Shady Belle experience had spooked you, but there was no reason for you to feel scared now. You’ve crossed this parking lot a hundred times.

“Silly.” You murmured to yourself as you started toward your car, though with a slightly hurried pace in your step.

Within a few feet of your car, you heard footsteps come up from the side. You blinked and spun around to come face to face with a drunken Tom, who awkwardly stumbled up to you.

“H-heeey, sweetheart.” Tom slurred, the smell of the whiskey still strong on his breath.

“Hi Tom,” you greeted warily. “Are you lost?”

“Naaah,” he hiccupped once, stepping even closer to you. “Listen…I wanna t-take you home with me.”

You stiffened, gripping your keys tighter. “Tom, I’ve told you before. No.” You responded politely yet firmly, hoping he’d understand in his inebriated state. “Get home safe.”

“I’m not going anywhere…without you.” He persisted, reaching out to brush his fingers along your arm.

You stepped back from his touch, turning yourself slightly away, though your keys were held in between your fingers. “Tom, you’re drunk. Please go home.” You feigned concern in your voice, though you held the unyielding wariness.

The hope that he’d laugh it off and walk away quickly diminished when his expression changed. Anger clear on his face as his hands, quick, had a vice grip on your upper arms. His body leaned against yours, sandwiching you between him and another car. Your gasp was audible, hopefully enough to catch someone’s attention.

“Tom!” You exclaimed, trying to wiggle free from him. He was surprisingly strong. “Let go of me!”

“I-I’m tired of playing these games with you, Y/N,” he growled. “I w-want you.”

Before you could respond, he forced his mouth to yours, forcing your lips open to invade. The alcohol on his tongue almost made you gag, and with quick thinking, you bit down on him.

A flash of hot copper exploded in your mouth, and Tom yelped and stepped back. Spitting the blood out, you didn’t hesitate to turn and race for your car. Though before you could even make it another few feet, strong hands yanked you back.

“You little…bitch!” You heard Tom snarl, ripping you back to him. You stumbled, struggling to keep your balance. Your scream was cut off when his palm slapped over your lips, and his arm wrapped tightly around you. “Yer comin’ home with me, right now!”

Your cries were muffled, scared out of your mind, you tried kicking at his shins. Your heels made contact, though with too little force to cause any real harm.

“I’m gonna punish you, little girl.” His whisper a hiss in your ear. Fear shot through you, your heart racing loud in your ears. You continuously tried to escape his grip but to no avail. You tried to force your lips open just a smidge to bite on his finger, yet his hold on your face was ridiculously strong.

You began to feel him drag you away, and you planted your feet to stand your ground. But this man was much stronger and heavier than you were, this rendering your effort fruitless. Your mind raced in panic, trying to think of anything else.

Why hasn’t anyone seen you yet?

Sharp pain entered the side of your head as a heavy blow. Your vision left immediately, engulfing you in darkness.

—-

The ground was rough, damp against your cheek. The sound of muffled struggle seemed to originate from above you. Shoes scuffling against the asphalt. Gasping and grunting.

Your eyes opened, your vision slowly coming to focus. You were on the parking lot still, laying awkwardly in a space between two cars.

Metal clattering caught your attention. You sat up and immediately regretted it as the pain in your head throbbed. You groaned and held your head, turning toward the sound.

A pocket knife lay just a few feet away, the silver blade shining in the moonlight. Further was Tom, pinned against one of the cars by…

Arthur?

You blinked in surprise. Where did he come from?

“L-Let go of me, asshole!” Tom coughed, his voice raspy. It only took you a second to see Arthur’s gloved hand wrapped around his neck.

“What possesses you to lay a hand on a woman like that?” Arthur growled. “What kinda man are you?”

Tom didn’t answer, only struggled to get free. Managing to get one hand free, his hand balled into a fist and swing out- only to be caught swiftly by Arthur. You heard a distinct crunch- and Tom let out a choked howl in pain. Your eyes widened.

Arthur leaned closer, almost as if he were about to caress him with his lips. His voice was low, though still loud enough to hear: “I catch you doin’ that again, I promise I’ll do a lot worse.” He then stepped back, releasing Tom as the older man crumpled to the ground, cradling his now broken hand.

Arthur’s attention then turned to you, his blue eyes bright and the anger still plain in his face. Your breath hitched; you’d never seen a man look so dangerous, nearly animalistic.

He approached you, and you automatically leaned back. Fear was still flowing like fire through your veins. He blinked, then paused, holding his hand out to you. “Come on, Y/N.”

Hesitantly, you reached out and took it. His skin felt cold underneath the worn leather of his fingerless glove. He pulled you to your feet with ease, though the rush caused you to sway. The throbbing on the side of your head worsened, the pain itself almost making you feel sick to your stomach.

Arthur steadied you, murmuring to you, “Where’s your car?”

Without speaking, you pointed to it, just a few parking spaces away. You didn’t realize how much you trembled until the keys jingled in your hand.

He plucked the keys from you and prompted you to walk forward. You did so, taking deep breaths as you kept your eyes forward, ignoring the whimpering and cursing of that vile man. Arthur’s hand rested on the small of your back, though very light to the touch.

He opened the passenger side door, hushing the protest that barely passed your lips. He helped you in before sliding in on the other side.

The movement of the car was almost dizzying. You closed your eyes, willing the spinning to go away. Your stomach churned uncomfortably, though it had been a while since you’d eaten. As the adrenaline wore off, your body felt drained.

“Where do you live?”

Keeping your eyes closed, you mumbled your answer. The pain began to dull, though the fatigue began to spread. With the gentle motion of the car, the hum of the engine and the cool air on your face. You didn’t realize you’d fallen asleep when his voice gently roused you. You blinked awake to see your apartment complex.

He helped you inside, guiding you toward your door. You shuffled through the dimly lit hallway, staring at the numbers until you found yours. He even unlocked the door and pushed it open, gesturing for you to walk in. You did so, stepping across the threshold into your apartment, the darkness waiting to engulf you. An overpowering feeling of helplessness racked you from head to toe.

The fear still remained.

An idea sprung in your mind. You turned around to face him. “Hey, can you stay with me?”

Arthur gave you a quizzical look.

“I just…don’t want to be alone,” you said sheepishly, tilting your head down in slight shame. You were a grown woman, afraid of something that couldn’t hurt you. But after that event, you needed at least some company. You didn’t want to bother your friends, knowing it was too late to even message them. “At least for a little bit.”

“You hardly even know me.” Arthur responded, though his voice was soft.

“I know,” you sighed. “It sounds silly, but- I’m scared still. I just need some company for my peace of mind. Doesn’t have to be the whole night, at least until I can fall asleep. If it doesn’t inconvenience you.” You met his gaze again, staring directly into those bright eyes.

Arthur let out a sigh, rubbing his slicked back sandy locks. “Sure, I’ll stay.”

You let out a breath of relief. “Thank you. Please, come in.” You stepped back and get around for the switch, flooding your living room with a bright light.

He stepped in after you, the black leather jacket and dark jeans stood stark against your white walls. He certainly looked out of place in your quaint little apartment. You weren’t sure what to do at this point, your mind fogging any greater rational thought. Your insides felt hollow, your mouth still had a faint tinge of blood lingering. The pain that radiated from your temple had lessened greatly, yet still remained as a dull ache that pulsed every once in a while.

Arthur stared at you expectantly, though gave no notion to urge you in any direction from here. His eyes instead grazed you up and down. “You may wanna clean yourself up.”

You blinked and looked down at yourself, the apparent stinging in your arms had become more prominent. Bloodied scrapes, bits of gravel and asphalt dirtied your skin. You pursed your lips, thankful Arthur came when he did. There was no telling what further damage could have been done. “Yeah…just, chill on the couch. I’ll take a shower.”

He nodded silently, feeling his gaze on you as you headed down the hall and closed yourself in the bathroom. Switching both the light and fan on, you finally got a good look of yourself.

Your hair was messy, the neat ponytail was half pulled loose with strands sticking out here and there. The light makeup you put on was smudged, lip gloss smeared all over your lips and chin, along with a small blood stain. A fresh scrape took the majority of your cheek, most likely where you’d landed on the asphalt.  There was a slight swelling on your temple as well.

You recoiled at the sight, tears filling your eyes as you turned toward the shower. It could have been worse, you thought to yourself. Repeating the mantra as you unclothed and turned the water on. Within seconds it was hot, and you entered its comforting embrace.

You focused on cleaning yourself, slowly and tenderly scrubbing the filth away. The water and soap stung your wounds; though it was a reminder that you were safe now. The greater part of your mind still needed that convincing.

Taking longer than normal, you wrapped yourself in a towel and headed over to the bedroom, only glancing down the hall to see what Arthur was up to. You hadn’t seen him, though the footsteps indicated he didn’t leave yet.

You dressed yourself in a camisole and pajama pants, the fabric soft and soothing against your skin. As you ran a comb through your hair, your thoughts began to wander again.

I’m gonna punish you, little girl.

Your stomach lurched painfully, the memory causing you to double over. You could still smell his breath, the vice grip he had on you, the way his voice overpowered you-

A knock on your door snapped you back to reality. “Y/N? You decent? May I come in?” Arthur’s muffled voice sounded from the other side.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you responded, “Y-yeah.”

He opened the door slowly, his eyes darting to your hunched figure. He frowned, stepping closer to you. “Somethin’ wrong?” he asked.

“I…I just…” you huffed, trying to compose your thoughts. “Just trying to keep myself calm…”

Arthur nodded silently, sitting on the edge of your bed and he held something up to you: a steaming mug of tea. You gave him a look of confusion, and he replied, “I just made it. Help calm the nerves.”

Before you could say anything, he pressed the mug into your hands. Your fingers wrapped around the warm ceramic, and you peered into the liquid. It had a pungent, herby scent with a tinge of sweet, along with something else you couldn’t detect. Tea was something you’d get every once in a while before big tests and projects, though you weren’t sure if there had been any left over.

You took a small sip, the taste was unlike anything else. The bitterness of earthy leaves was slightly dulled by a tinge of sweet and tangy flavoring. The hot liquid hit your empty stomach, and almost immediately you began to feel more relaxed. The heat was soothing like the shower was. “Thanks.” You murmured, sipping some more.

He nodded in response. “What are ya gonna do?” he asked quietly.

You gave him a small frown of confusion. “What do you mean?”

“About ‘im,” Arthur clarified. “That asshole.”

“Oh.” You swallowed uncomfortably, drumming your fingers on the mug. “I…I’m not sure.”

“He’s a regular at that club, right?” When you nodded, Arthur continued. “Then tell your boss he ain’t welcome there anymore.”

It would be the right thing to do. But your boss would go the extra mile, trying to get the police involved. Word would get out what happened, and you’d be seen as a victim to feel sorry for. You pursed your lips in thought.

Arthur sensed your hesitation. “I know it ain’t the easiest thing to do, Y/N. Men like him ain’t worth keeping your mouth shut about. You gotta keep yourself safe.”

He was right. You nodded silently in agreement, knowing it would be an uncomfortable topic to bring up again. You took another drink, each sip seemingly calming you down more and more. “I’ll talk to my boss tomorrow night. And take the day off.”

“Good, you need a personal day.” Arthur patted your shoulder.

Somehow his touch was soothing as well. God, what else would have happened if Arthur didn’t show up when he did? Quickly, you diverted those thoughts away. You were home and safe, albeit a little injured. You sighed slightly and turned to look at him fully, seeing the content emotion in his face. “Thank you, Arthur. Thank you so much.”

He gave you a small smile. “You’re welcome, darlin’.”

Though you didn’t mind the sudden nickname, the way his voice rumbled was…something else. Placing the mug down, you reached out and hugged him tightly. He flinched a little in response, though relaxed after a moment and lightly patted your back.

He was cold, how was he so cold? You slightly breathed in the scent of his jacket, he smelled like rain and nature with a tiny hint of gasoline. It was evident he was a man that spent a lot of time outside, and he smelled good.

You pulled away before the embrace became a little too long, and a large yawn escaped your mouth. The tea definitely had done its job to calm you, picking it up to finish off the rest. The warmth spread through your insides, allowing a serene feeling to overcome you.

“I’ll let you sleep.” Arthur murmured, standing up and stepping away from your bed.

The last dregs of fear had been washed away, your mind able to relax now. You nodded and scooted back, sliding yourself under the covers. As your head rested against the cool pillow, your eyelids felt heavy. “Thanks again, Arthur,” you said through another yawn. “You’re such a great guy…”

The last thing you saw was his lips forming into a half smile.

[i-growl-growl-growl]

heyy~ love your post ! but i was wondering if you could do a yandere!nct (all units) but if that’s to much, then just yandere!wayv of when they first see their s/o?? not necessarily meeting them buh just seeing them for the first time? thank you ❤️

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I intend to have the other member’s reactions to this finished sometime soon. I already have a few of the other NCT member’s reactions to this finished but I wouldn't have the entire reaction complete by tonight and I promised to have a reaction up today so hopefully this will do for now.

~Savie

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Kun: Kun had always looked forward to Fridays. Fridays were his trekking days, the day of the week when he could be out in nature with hardly a single other person in sight, except for a few hikers that occasionally went trekking through his property without realizing it was private property. He didn’t pay much mind to those that he passed by since they never seemed to harm any of his property so he let it pass and continued on with his journey until he’d grow tired and decide to head home. This day was different though. As he was trekking through one of the less familiar paths of his property (for other trekkers), he came upon a bunch of campers who seemed to have had one too many to drink, or just didn’t care for their obnoxiously loud and destructive nature (or both). He stopped only a few feet from their camping sight and looked at it with a growing fury in his system as he saw the large piles of smashed bottles and crushed beer cans littering the grounds. What infuriated him most however, was the sight of several trees that he had planted having been cut down to feed the campers poorly built fire pit.

Just as he was about to kick at one of the tent doors, he heard a zipper being unzipped and saw as a head poked through an opening to the smallest tent. That’s when he first saw you. At first, he wasn’t impressed (partially because he was pissed off at what you and your friends had done to his property) but as your friends followed pursuit and came out of their tents, the sight of you seemed to be the only one he could stand looking at since you were the only one who didn’t seem completely shitfaced.

When you and your group of friends noticed him, he immediately spoke up. He made all of you well-aware that you had trespassed and destroyed private property, which could end with all of you going to jail if he chose to report it.

All of your friends were ready to throw down in order to ensure that they wouldn’t get in trouble (which made no sense since that only helped his case) but you staid calm and only apologized continuously. Since he quickly found out that none of your friends were going to be mature about this, he  had you send them away to pack up their things while he could talk to you to figure out how he’d be paid compensation. When he learned that you couldn’t pay since you were all runaways, he quickly came up with a plan that make up for the destruction of his property. He offered that you’d stay with him and help him replant more trees but your friends would have to leave otherwise he’d report all of you to the authorities. Since you didn’t want to be reported, you agreed to his deal, sealing your fate to being with your future captor, yandere Kun.

“If you think you and your friends can get away with destroying my property without compensation then you’re all dead wrong. You’ve trespassed through my property which, that in itself, is punishable by law. I have a deal for you, how about you stay with me and help me clean up the mess that your group has made. If you agree to this I’ll let your friends go without reporting them to the police. How does that sound?”

Ten: Ten was a well known figure within the red light district of the city by the time you came across it. He had probably gone a night with every prostitute at least twice, been in each adult theater at least 100 times and had visited the strip clubs well over that amount before that fateful night when he’d lay his eyes on you and be unable to look away.

He could tell that you were clearly lost as you attempted to find your way out without having to look up from the ground since you clearly weren’t interested in any of the naked forms that displayed themselves like mannequins in the front windows of each shop. Since he knew his way around this part of the city far better than anyone else, he knew that he’d be perfect for the task of helping you get to your desired location so long as he was paid for his services (maybe he’d be lucky enough to come back with a new number added to his phone or, better yet, perhaps he could land a night with you.)

“You seem a little lost darlin’. Perhaps I could be of some assistance. You wanna get out of here don’t you? Well, I’ll let you know that I know this district like the back of my own hand. I can get you out of here but it’ll be for a small price. Perhaps a your phone number and a date could suffice? Waddya say to that? You couldn’t possibly get a better offer than that. It’s certainly better than what those prostitutes would offer you if you were to ask any of them for help.”

WinWin: WinWin was three hours into his shift at the local cat cafe and he was busy stacking supplies in the supplies office when he heard the bells dinging, announcing that a customer had arrived. He quickly dusted himself off and headed to the register, ready to take the customer’s order. What he saw when he got to the register was the most gorgeous person he had ever seen! He looked at you and nearly stuttered over his greeting as he welcomed you to the cafe and asked you which option you’d want. Would you want the 20 minute option which only allowed you to pet the cats unless you paid extra for a drink? Would you want the 60 min option that includes one drink? or would you take the 90 minute option with unlimited drinks?

He so badly hoped that you’d take the 90 minutes so that he could be with you longer. WinWin was instantly infatuated with you and wouldn’t mind taking any of your orders or helping you figure out how to get the special cat treats from the “cat-treat ‘gumball’ machine”.

When you did chose the 90 minute option WinWin nearly lost his composer to stay calm, he wanted to cheer from happiness so badly, but he managed to keep calm and gave you that cute and beautiful smile of his as he rang-up your order and asked what you’d like for your first beverage.

As time went by and WinWin got to know what your favorite beverage was (which he’d obviously remember for the next encounter that you two would have with each other.) He also got to enjoy watching you laugh and smile as the cats surrounded you and fought for your attention. He simply couldn’t keep his eyes off of you while you spent time in his cafe, he knew that this was love at first sight for him and he didn’t want these 90 minutes to end.

WinWin knew that he’d do whatever he could to make sure that you’d come back to the cafe and soon because he’d lose his mind over his love for you once your time is up and he wouldn’t be happy like this again until he sees you again.

He needs this happiness like he needs air to breathe, He needs you like he needs a heart to beat in his chest in order to live.

Lucas: Lucas was still getting over the loss of his previous darling when he locked his sights on you. A month previous, his darling had succumb to some fatal injuries that they had come to acquire due to a bit of an extensive amount of unfortunate events that had fallen upon them (*cough*Lucas’punishmentsfortryingtoescape *cough*) 

He was scoping the city, for nothing in particular, when his enhanced eyesight caught you walking on your way to work. Love at first sight couldn’t even begin to describe what Lucas felt for you as he barely managed to keep his binoculars from falling out of his hands due to the pure shock he received from catching sight of your beauty. He hoped that you didn’t work far from where he was currently positioned because he wouldn’t be able to follow you otherwise since he had chosen to perch himself upon the rooftop of a rather small, but still sizable, skyscraper that day. Luck seemed to be on his side because you entered the building across the street from ‘his’ skyscraper and checked into work as a clerk for the front desk.

Lucas would watch you for the entire day until he could no longer follow you with his binoculars as you walked away, assumingly heading back home, after you clocked-out from work. Once he put down his binoculars, he pulled out his phone and took a picture of your workplace to remind him to do some research on the building and figure out if he could find out who you were.

XiaoJun: XiaoJun had been walking home one night when he heard a scream coming from an alleyway just at the end of the block. Usually he wouldn’t delve into looking into such incidences that happen in this part of the city but something about the cry for help drew him to check and see what was going on.

When he reached the alleyway he saw a group of guys pinning someone to the ground and tearing at their clothes. XiaoJun only stopped to watch for a moment before he would've walked off but, just as he was about to leave, he saw the pinned down person get one of their hands free and jab one of the men in the eye with their fingers before managing to punch another one of the men. That was all that the person managed to do before they were being pinned down again, but XiaoJun admired their fighting spirit and he remember the cry for help that drew him to this alleyway in the first place. It must’ve been yours.

XiaoJun approached the gang of men without any fear since he was a feared figure in these parts. His booming voice had all of them looking in his direction, one of them shining a light in his face to identify him. All of them had been prepared to tell whoever it was that was interfering in their business to fuck off but, once they found out that it was no other than XiaoJun himself, their fighting spirits ghosted them and they all began to shake like scared dogs. Once he told them to leave or die, they all listened to his warning and scrambled out of there as fast as their legs could carry them.

XiaoJun waited until he could no longer hear their footsteps before turning around to approached you and help you up from the ground where you had just been attacked. The light that one of the men had previously shined in his face had been dropped and now shined on yours. When his eyes met yours and he saw the beauty that beheld you, he instantly knew what had led the men to attempt what they had. He himself debated just taking their place, you were that beautiful to him. XiaoJun was able to hold himself back however and helped your shaking figure stand up. He didn’t intend to let you go though, he had already decided that you were too beautiful for this world to behold. He wanted you all to himself and that’s exactly what he’d get.

“Here lets get you out of here. Let me take you to my house and get you a new pair of clothes, we can’t have you walking all around the city looking like that. Come with me, you’re safe now.”

Hendery: Hendery actually met you in a relatively simple, normal way. He had gone over to a friends house to celebrate his birthday with him which ended up being where he met you. You were also a friend of his friend and had been invited to come and enjoy a night of watching movies, playing games and eating endless amounts of pizza, ice cream, chicken wings, and cake and washing it down with a vast variety of sodas. As the party went on it turned out to become more like a slightly less slutty, and boozy, version of a college party. During a game of Truth or dare, he listened as his friends dared you to tell everyone who you thought was the most handsome out of the guys in the room. He could see your face turning a bright shade of red as you avoided eye contact when you shyly said his name. He was ecstatic to hear this because he had grown some feelings for you as the night had gone on from the very moment he saw you entire your friend’s house, but he’d never admit that in front of everyone.

Since that moment, Hendery had hoped that there would be a chance to ‘steal you away’ and get to know you better (literally and figuratively.) Later that night he sort of got his wish after everyone dragged both of you into playing a game of spin the bottle. Everyone knew the rules, if the bottle landed on a couple three times then they’ve have to play seven minutes in heaven (that’s the reason why neither of you had wanted to play.) Fortunately & unfortunately, that’s exactly what ended up happening to the two of you and you couldn’t escape from being locked in a dark closet with the very guy that you had admitted to thinking was most handsome and he ended up being locked in the closet with the person that he had grown to have feelings for despite not knowing them at all.

Let’s just say that Hendery took the chance that he had been given and ended up declaring that you were his, which he meant seriously, as soon as he finished kissing you just before the doors to the closet opened and everyone bombarded you two with questions about what had happened during the seven minutes.

YangYang: YangYang met you when you had been called in to be a backup model for a photo-shoot that he was doing for Louis Vuitton. What was so mesmerizing about you was that you were so out of place compared to everyone else. For starters, he could tell from a single glance that you were an amateur model which wasn’t something he would’ve expected from the casting directors of such a big company. Another thing about you that caught his eyes was that, despite your obvious lack in practice and looks (as compared to the rest of the models, who to him looked more like aliens than anything else if he was to be quite honest) you didn’t let anything get to you. You walked up to the set with an air of confidence that drew him in immediately.

Throughout the duration of the photo-shoot, you continued to catch his attention. At one point the other back of models were all fighting because one of them had stepped on another model’s hair which caused them to hit another model in the crotch. You however, staid out of the fight and continued to pose as if nothing had happened until the cameramen directed everyone leave the set so that tensions could die down.

During the break, YangYang desperately wanted to introduce himself to you but, due to his mangers obsession with making sure that YangYang looked flawless at all times, he got caught up with having stylists fixing his hair and makeup, fortunately for him though, he could watch you from a distance as this went on.

At the end of the day, YangYang was unsuccessful in meeting you but he was able to get information on you and your company from the staff, which he would obviously use to his advantage.

[razberryyum]

Positive Things about Guardian as a series (spoilers)

So I’ve been pretty harsh about the production team behind Guardian (writers, directors, set designers, wardrobe, the crew…including the extras…basically anyone who are not Bai Yu, Zhu Yilong, the actors who played Old Chu, Little Guo and Zhu Hong, who are Jiang Ming Yang, Xin Peng and  Gao Yu Er, respectively) and about the quality of the show as a whole when it doesn’t involve our main characters/leads, and I’ve actually been feeling bad about that now that the initial sense of shock has worn off a little. As a result, I woke up this morning and decided to make a list of all things that are GOOD about the show. Now, I am still hurting about how it ended and the things that went wrong which imho could have easily NOT (f.e. the 10,000 years dirt nap), but…BUT I will try my best NOT to let that negativity seep into this. 

So here goes, in no particular order, the positive things about the show:

- the show even exists. I mean, really, God bless, especially considering where it’s made. How did that even happen?? Despite all my bitching, I still marvel (almost DAILY so far) at the fact that Guardian exists and I got to watch it cuz China could’ve easily never put it back online. 

- the existence of Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan. But that’s pretty much a given. Especially since my life is forever changed because of them.

- every Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan scene together. That’s a given also. I would not be surprised if the writers literally used all their meager talent and energy on constructing those moments so that’s why they didn’t have much juice left for everything else. I mean, that’s a good thing, right? Kinda.

- they got Bai Yu and Zhu Yilong to play Zhao Yunlan and Shen Wei. I really hope the two actors got compensated well for their performances, though somehow I doubt it, especially since, from what I understand ZYL (omg I just stupidly realized the acronym for his name is the same as Zhao Yunlan’s. Wtf that is so cute!) was still very slowly rising in the ranks. But hopefully their current popularity as a result of the show has made up for it.

- the score and songs. Bought the OST from iTunes like one or two episodes in, loved the score and themes. I even bought Bai Yu and Zhu Yilong’s duet “Time of Flight” a few times (different platforms, different devices) cuz I just wanted to contribute to them…even though…who knows if they even see a cent from it, and pretty sure my few measly dollars probably isn’t helping anything. Probably just makes me seem stupid and insane. 

- the cute episode titles. Which I wasn’t even aware of until @avenuex123 pointed it out. Adorable.

- the censorship. Ok, censorship is never good imo, but in this singular case, perhaps because there were existing restrictions on the BL subject matter, the actors therefore were willing to sign on since they knew they didn’t have to do anything explicit (or maybe they would’ve been willing, this is just my own stupid assumption because of how Chinese society is…I say that as an Asian American with many…erm…”old-fashioned” friends and family members) AND they probably saw it as challenge to find creative ways to convey the nature of the characters while working within the confines of censorship laws. Although, this might be a case of me just trying to look on the bright side.

- the easter eggs. I agree with fellow Guardian fans who have pointed out that there was some love put into the making of this show, which is clearly exemplified in the small momentos scattered throughout the series. 

- the time travel concept. Not that the delve into the past was done well because I did have problems with it, but I did really appreciate the fact that Zhao Yunlan was the one and only all along due to his being sucked up into the wormhole and spit back out 10,000 years in the past to meet Shen Wei for the first time. I thought it was a tremendously romantic idea…even if the general execution of the past left a lot to be desired. I promised that I wouldn’t be negative, but I still have to say that while love at first sight is a lovely notion, it was still a bit hard to swallow that SW would fall SOOOO head over heels with ZYL after just conversing with him for like a few hours, to the point that he would pine for him for 10,000 years (though it’s probably technically more like a few decades due to his dirt nap, but I’ll buy it felt like 10K years to him). I just wish ZYL spent more time in the past with SW, and actually @xparrot‘s fic (”Now Lie In It" on AO3) made me feel a LOT better about the whole thing since they successfully fixed the problem by awesomely separating each scene we saw into days and years. But I did like the time travel idea; it was cool, even though it’s different from the novel.

- the nature of the necklace. I really liked the candy wrapper core. Broke my heart into bits and pieces in a GOOD way. Really loved everything about it. I understand it’s different in the novel as well, but in the context of the changes done for the show, I thought that was a pretty brilliant move. 

-  the Da Qing and ZYL ownership scene in episode 35 with SW listening. Loved that scene and the multiple purposes it was serving: establishing Da Qing’s relationship with ZYL, giving voice to how SW was feeling about ZYL leaving,   inspiring SW with the necklace idea, and then of course, the censorship workaround because it was like very homo while being nohomo at the same time. 

- SW and ZYL’s wardrobe. Probably a given since the fact that I love them means I love everything about them, but, like, SW even looked good as the Black Cloak Envoy and ZYL as Kunlun and those outfits (and their hairstyles) could’ve gone wrong so easily…thank God no one thought it was a good idea to make them wear a stupid looking afro wig or feathers on their heads.

- Old Chu/Little Guo. They were adorable, my second OTP from the show, and I was seriously jealous of all the PDA they were getting away with.

- recurring characters. Even though some of their acting abilities were highly questionable, I did appreciate how certain characters introduced in the beginning of the show would pop up again later on. I’m sure a good part of that was to save on hiring more people, but I still thought it was neat. For example, I wasn’t too fond of the merit brush dude (cuz his story was dumb and draggy), but I did like how this innocuous store owner that was little more than a background character at the start eventually became one of the villains. 

-  Ye Zun. He’s so CUTE. I mean, ok, Zhu Yilong playing him helped, but just seriously, his character is so fucked up and misguided and emo and adorable that I just wanted to give him a big hug all the time. When that shitty cockatoo he calls “Boss”** started smacking him around, I wanted to reach into the screen and throttle that ugly POS. I wouldn’t even be surprised if that asshole more than physically abused Ye Zun. Anyway, I just felt bad for the little puppy. I wish we got to spend more time with him and that he got redeemed earlier so that he could enjoy some love and hugs before being led into the wormhole (or…wherever it was that his big bro was heading off with him…wait, would it be the wormhole? But they died, right? So technically it should be like the reincarnation hole?) **(btw, why “Boss”? Why not “Leader”? Are the head villains paying their henchmen to follow them? So weird that they call their leaders “boss” which would imply they’re being paid wages which I truly doubt is the case)

- Da Qing. He’s a cutie too. Really wish the kitty girl had lived so that he wouldn’t be all alone, now that ZYL is gone. I guess Tech boy Lin Jing is going to take care of him now?  

- Zhu Hong. When she wasn’t inexplicably screaming her dialogue, I did like her…but a huge part of that is probably because I remember the actress from Yanxi Palace (she was playing a small villainous role but she did a good job) and I felt sorry for her. Putting the unrequited love aside, it must also be tough seeing ZYL now and yet knowing that’s not even the same guy she loves at all. Damn, that actually must be so unsettling for everyone who knew the old ZYL. 

-  the personality swap episode (ep 25). THAT was freaking adorable. Just wish it lasted longer and that eventually it affected SW and ZYL. Although, since they already eye-fuck each other like 99% of the time, what would be different? I guess SW would be a little looser…and ZYL would be a bit more sad and pining-er? (Btw, I literally never heard of the word “microexpressions” until Zhu Yilong entered my life). Omg, an image of them switching outfits just popped into my head. Oh shit, that would’ve been FUN to see. Dammit.

That’s all I could come up with for now…I’ll probably add more as I think of more things. Please feel free to contribute if you think of positive things I’ve left out. I might not agree but I’d still love to hear them.

[jack-kellys]

it’s me, with another AU! this is based off this ask I got a little while ago.

——————

like him

words: 2000 whoops

warnings: cursing, weed, bit of a mental breakdown, mentions/implications of abuse

——————

Everyone had some sort of power.

Passed down through generations, it manifested in every child at the start of adolescence, a fifty percent chance on either parent passing theirs down, like it was simply a hair color gene.

Well. It seemed like everyone had a power.

For what seemed like years, all of Albert DaSilva’s friends have had their powers. Race could control electricity and move faster than the rest of them, Romeo could charm the pants off anyone, Mush could heal with just his hands, and Finch had perfect aim and could see farther and clearer than the norm. And Al was just….Al. Nothing inherited, no specific talents that were randomly bestowed to him. Nothing. No special qualities.

He’d tried, he could say that. He taught himself to fight over the years, he was quite flexible, able to do a bunch of parkour bullshit (half for compensating, and half to say “parkour!” whenever he jumped off of something and be able to mean it), anything he could to just prove himself that he was enough. He could compete with his friends, even if Race would always be faster than him, Davey always smarter, Spot always stronger. He was enough. He had to be enough.

As Albert entered his house that afternoon, the first thing he saw were all the leaves on the ground. His dad must not be there, or else those definitely wouldn’t have been there.

“Liam, you gotta clean these up,” Al sighed, bending down to scoop them into a cleaner pile. They were a perfect emerald green, and soft, too. “Damn, I think you’re gettin’ even better at this, kid.”

Al’s younger brother skidded into the room, grinning, vines trailing up his arms and legs like he was part tree.

Albert burst out laughing at the sight. “What the hell? How long’ve you been experimenting?”

“Hours,” Liam beamed, bobbing his head. “You think Ma’d be impressed if she could see ‘em?”

Al gave him a smile. Plants had been their mother’s specialty. She never got to see Liam inherit her powers, but Al thanked the stars every day that her botanical abilities hadn’t died with her. She was still with them, he liked to think.

“She’d be so proud, Tiger,” Al said, gesturing at the leaves. “These look beautiful. Much nicer than the gross yellowy crinkled ones you were makin’ last week.”

“Shush! No talking about that!” Liam huffed, finding a paper bag after rummaging through cabinets and shoving the leaves into it.

“Fine,” Al relented, smirking. “I just came by to check on you. I’m gonna head over to Racer’s, will you be alright?”

“Yep! All good here, Allie!” Liam chirped. “Go on with your friends, I gotta make some more vines.”

Al scoffed. “Alright, alright, but make sure you clean everything up before Papa comes home. Y’know how he gets about your powers.”

Liam nodded slowly, solemn even. “I’ll be okay,” the child reassured.

Albert ruffled his hair. “Good. I’ll see you soon, bud. Love ya.”

“Love yaaaah!” Liam called, dragging out the word as Al left the house.

• • •

“Heyyyyyy Albie!”

Al ducked into Race’s basement to see Mush, Jack, Crutchie, Race, and Romeo passing around a few blunts in the haphazard circle they were sitting in.

“You guys look like a cult who gave up halfway through the ritual,” Al said as he sat down next to Race, who whapped his arm lightly.

“We did out best, sir,” Crutchie whined with a smile. “What took you so long anyway?”

Albert shrugged. “I wanted to check in on Liam before our dad came home.”

“Dads,” Race mused. “Fuck ‘em.” And then he took a long drag.

Albert pulled the blunt with two fingers out of Race’s lips and put it to his own, holding the weed in his lungs before exhaling out in a short sigh. “Fuck ‘em,” he muttered.

“Cheers, I’ll drink to that, bro,” Romeo mumbled, picking up a glasses filled with…with….

“Bro, is that apple juice?” Albert asked, lips quirked a smile. “What the fuck?”

“I swear to god he has the weirdest cravings,” Jack sighed, shaking his head. “He really is the baby of the group.” Romeo whined at that, making Jack let out a scoff of laughter and point at him, as if his whininess was evidence.

“Is apple juice really stranger than fruity pebbles?” Mush snickered, glancing at Al. Al frowned as he took another hit from the blunt, shoving Mush over from across Race. Mush shoved him back, the two boys hitting each other over Race’s lap.

“Boys,” Race rolled his eyes, gripping their wrists at lighting speed. “You’re both pretty, even if you’ll never be me.”

“This ain’t my argument, but shut your trap, Racer,” Jack grumbled. He started to trace his fingers in the air and the boys groaned.

Jack had the peculiar power of being able to conjure things by “drawing” them out first, and often used harmless bullshit on his friends to make them look stupid. Once he stopped tracing, he flicked the product in Race’s direction, who flinched in apprehension.

A dark mustache and giant black round glasses now framed Race’s face, as well as an L on his forehead. The boys burst out laughing, their giggles lasting longer than normal due to their high.

“You—stupid,” Crutchie managed before dissolving into wheezes, which only made everyone laugh harder as Race scowled.

“You want stupid?” Race threatened. Al shook his head no in unison with the boys’ nods of approval. “I’ll give ya stupid.”

He stood up from where he was sitting and moved to a more open part of the basement, gesturing for everyone to stand back. Once everyone did, he started running inn a circle.

It looked kind of ridiculous at first, the boys watching in confusion as Race slowly increased speed.

Al squinted. It was getting kind of hard to see Race clearly, he realized. He was blurring into one shape, one circular outline. Al could see little bolts of lighting crackling through the blur, and felt wind blowing his hair back.

“Race,” he called out, “we get it, you’re dumb and fast. You can stop.”

The blur got faster instead.

Mush made eye contact with Albert, his worried frown reflecting Al’s own. Hopefully they wouldn’t need Mush’s powers tonight for a stupid stunt.

“Racetrack,” Al said, sterner. “Just stop, alright? Don’t burn yourself out.”

“I can—n’t. Ca-n’t. I- sto—p. I can’t sto-top,” came the choppy, distorted reply, making Al’s heartbeat quicken. The blur was still speeding up.

“Fuck, what the fuck,” Al said, abruptly standing. But he was frozen. There wasn’t anything he could do.

“How the fuck do we stop him?” Crutchie said, a nervous waver in his voice and in how he forced himself into standing on his good leg alone. The rest of the boys stood too, Crutchie’s hand finding Jack’s shoulder to steady himself on.

“Well, I’m ready for whatever aftermath this’s gonna cause,” Mush sighed, wiggling his hands.

“He’s not gonna stop unless we force it,” Al said slowly, biting his lip. “So we force it, and Mush just has to heal ‘im up.”

“Race,” Romeo started, Al feeling the familiar compulsion to listen, which happened whenever Romeo used his power. “Please try and slow down a little, at least, if you can hear me?”

No reply from the blur came back.

“Alright, well, that didn't work,” Romeo huffed. “How the hell do we actually wanna force it?”

“He could slip and fall out of the...storm he created,” Al offered.

“Oh, shit, I can help with that!” Crutchie beamed, raising his hand. A bubble of water appeared out of it.

“Flood ‘im then,” Jack nodded.

Crutchie returned it, letting go of Jack’s shoulder. He raised his hands slightly, palms towards the ceiling, pausing a moment. Then he shoved his arms out towards Race. A wave surged from Crutchie’s hands, Al being able to smell the salt water.

It toppled Race off of his feet, thank god.

But he was going so fast that he tumbled….straight through one of the walls in his basement, creating a large hole.

“Race!” Al yelled, bolting to where he had landed, Mush hot on his heels. He knelt next to the blond boy, who was sprawled on his back. Every few seconds, Race’s body would give a slight jolt, the extra electricity still coursing through him. His eyes were actively scrunched closed, but he wasn’t conscious.

“Jesus Christ,” Al muttered, pressing his lips together and letting his hands curl into fists. He closed his eyes a moment.

That was so fucking stupid of Race, Al thought bitterly.

Yes, they were all at varying degrees of high, but Race shouldn’t just abuse his powers to such a dangerous extreme. What a useless thing to do. And harmful, too. Who knows what could have happened if he kept going, if he could have caught on fire even from the speed, or maybe even-

“Al. Al. Hellooo,” Mush tapped Albert’s shoulder, effectively startling him out of...whatever that was. He wasn’t quite sure. “Help me lift this idiot onto the couch.”

Albert nodded wordlessly, both boys bringing Race to the couch so Mush could heal him.

“Might take more than a minute this time,” Mush grimaced, placing his hands on Race’s stomach as Al begrudgingly nodded.

It took eleven minutes, actually. Al counted.

And then Race was sitting up like nothing had ever happened. Like it was nothing.

“We all good, fam,” Race laughed. Jack gave a distracted thumbs up as he, Crutchie, and Romeo continued to try and clean up the wall and the water.

“No, we’re not all good, asshole,” Al snapped, surprising himself slightly. He didn’t think he was that mad.

Race looked confused. “I broke my own wall, dude. I know I fucked up,” he shrugged.

“That’s not the problem,” Al seethed, internally begging himself to calm down. He rubbed his hands over his arms. They felt colder. “The problem is that you could have fucking, like, combusted if you kept going. You realize that, right?”

Race faltered slightly. “Well, hey—“

Al shook his head violently, cutting Race off. He couldn’t stop himself. “You could have died, okay?! For a stupid-shit stunt! Jesus fucking Christ.” His voice was raised now.

“Albert,” Mush attempted, giving him the same concerned he had given Race earlier, “try to calm down.”

“I..I-I—“ Albert broke himself off, shoulder shooting up as he fought a shiver. Why was he so cold? And why couldn’t his breathing slow down? And why was he being so awful to Race? Questions shoved themselves through his head, wincing as he felt an anxious energy shoot through his palms, heart rate much faster than it should have been. Blood roared in his ears, his hands reaching up to cover them against the sudden noise. What was this? Frustration burned in his chest and he returned to hugging himself. Why the fuck was he so mad? Why couldn’t he just stop it? What was happening to him?! He screwed his eyes shut as the fear and anger engulfed him, a freezing feeling that both stopped and accelerated his heart. “Mush, I—can’t, I don’t know I just can’t calm-“

“Just take some deep breaths, okay?” Mush asked.

“I’m trying, okay?” Al growled suddenly, then froze. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s—I—“

“I get that you’re angry, but you—“

“I’M NOT ANGRY!” Al shouted, eyes flying open and hand slamming down on the armrest of the couch. He did his best to take a ragged breath in. “I was just really worried, that’s all. I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s happening with...me…”

Albert trailed off as he noticed everyone had stopped looking at him, and looking at something next to him. His eyes flicked to his right, widening at the sight.

What looked like an eerie dead tree in the form of solid ice now sprouted from the armrest, sharp icicle shards piercing the ceiling at some points. One rather jagged point was even poking at Race.

Race let out a low whistle, breaking off the icicle closest to him. “That’s my fuckin’ armrest, Al,” he simply said.

Al wasn’t listening to whatever his friends continued to say. He was staring at the ice, the structure of his own doing transporting him to a different time.

Al’s mother was still alive, in another fight with his father. Young Albert watched from behind a door frame as they yelled insults, angry shouts of discontentment filling the kitchen. Albert watched as his father picked up one of his mother's small potted plants, holding it tightly in his hand. Frost erupted around the pot, then froze and wilted the flower inside. Then he threw it on the ground, not watching it shatter into ice as he shoved Albert’s mother into a different room as she screamed.

Ice had ruled his childhood. Ice had threatened him, his brothers, and his Ma. Ice had hurt them, too. It was a hateful, angry, cold and unfeeling thing.

And now he had it. He...inherited that. He was that.

Albert looked away from the gnarled tree of ice and back towards his friends, whose expressions of awe were slipping off their faces as they took in Al’s scared eyes. Only Race gave him a sad, knowing look.

“I-I needa leave,” Albert managed. “I’m so sorry.” Then he bolted out of the basement, footprints creating patches of ice, ignoring his friends’ protests.

• • •

Albert to Elmer: im coming to ur house rn just so you know

Elmer to Albert: ??? okay hun what's wrong it's like late

Albert to Elmer: show you when I get there

The moment Al walked into Elmer’s house, he nearly collapsed into his boyfriend’s arms. He squeezed El tightly, breathing in how he smelled to calm himself down.

“Oh, baby, you're so tense,” El murmured. “Let's go to my room; lemme ease that for you.”

Albert nodded into his shoulder as Elmer led them upstairs. He set them on his bed, Al flopping down onto his back and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I don't know how it happened,” Al started, voice devoid of much emotion. “Something...weird just kinda came over me, and I was so angry, El, it almost hurt.”

“Baby,” El said, shifting closer with his eyebrows furrowed. “What happened at Race’s, if you don't mind me asking?”

“This,” Al muttered darkly, raising his hand. The now-distinguishable angry feeling unfurled in his gut as frost materialized over his fingers, then reaching to his palm, covering his whole hand in icy white. “Just like him.”

Elmer stared open-mouthed at Albert’s hand, poking it with one of his fingers before recoiling from the cold of it. “That's incredible,” El breathed. “After all this time, you do have powers.”

“And it sucks,” Al hissed. “They’re—his powers. I inherited the shit that I was terrified of when I was little. How fucked up is that?”

“Shhhh…” Elmer soothed, placing his hand on Albert’s cheek. Al sighed at the contact, feeling some of the stress leave his body. He was lucky Elmer was an empath, able to feel, absorb, and release emotions as needed, as long as he held physical contact with him.

“You're not your dad, Al,” Elmer continued, rubbing his thumb affectionately over Albert’s cheek. “You’re too kind, and really funny, and too smart and passionate…” Elmer punctuated each word with a kiss on Al’s forehead. Al’s stress ebbed away with each one, almost finding himself smiling.

“Okay baby okayy,” Albert groaned. Then he bit his lip. “When I used them though, I just...I didn't feel like me. Like I was a different person, or some batshit nonsense like that.”

Elmer sighed, indicating for Albert to move up on the bed. He complied, and felt Elmer curl around his back, wrapping his arms over Albert’s stomach.

“Then we’re gonna have to learn how to deal with that, and then fix that,” Elmer instructed. “You're powers are what make you you, and I want you to be able to feel like you.”

“That was too many you’s in one sentence,” Albert mumbled, pulling out his phone to text Liam that he’d be staying at El’s.

Elmer whapped Al’s back with a scoff. “You know what I mean though. I love you, okay, and I want you to be able to express yourself, in every part of yourself.”

“I love you too,” Albert said, his voice slightly hollow despite curling further into Elmer and closing his eyes. He didn't want to admit these powers were a part of him now. It didn't feel like his, and even after all this time of never having powers, he didn't want them, either.

Everyone had some sort of power, sure, but not everyone's felt like a curse.

————

to be continued, not just this story in particular, but this au in general, because it’s fun as fuck lmao

TAG LIST

@suddenly-im-respecsable @alberts-cigar @bencookisagod @felix-loves-albert-and-ralbert @spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn @stopthe-presses @technically-whizzy @papesdontsellthemselves @fameworks-quicker @seasickdolphin @iamliterallyaghost @beep-beep-byler @the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog @thomasbeingthomas @the-king-of-brooklyn @sunshine-e-cigarettes @thebroadwayaesthetic @spot-me50-papes @i-got-no-clue-what-im-doing @iwontfallinlovewfalling @timehops @kingofsantafe @we-dont-sell-papes @eveningpaper @sure-as-a-star @godhatesjordan @awkwardstranger98 @ireallyloveiainyoungwow @big-potato-asshole @have-we-got-news-for-you u @bxnesof92 @backgroundnewsies @orollyitsracetrackhiggins @a-most-auspicious-erster @modern-race-owns-airpods @asphodelnerd

[healthbetold]

SA vaccination call as lockdown hits another state

South Australian health officials urge more people to get COVID-19 vaccinations after a record week of vaccinations at state clinics as parts of Queensland are subject to a snapdown lockdown.

Photo: Tony Lewis / InDaily

Prime Minister Steven Marshall told reporters this morning that South Australia has a “good rate, an increasing rate” of vaccinations, but some people are having trouble booking appointments.

He said SA Health has set up pop-up supermarket stations in areas with lower vaccination rates where people can get help making appointments.

“We want to avoid a lockdown in South Australia,” he said.

“We put in some constraints that we think will help provide extra layers of protection, but the best people can do is take a test when they get sick or develop systems to make sure they use QR codes wherever they go so that they check in and thirdly – if they are authorized – go in and get vaccinated. “

Australia has the lowest vaccination rate of any advanced economy in the OECD, with only about five percent of the population fully vaccinated.

Shadow SA Health Secretary Chris Picton this morning accused Marshall of being dishonest in his comments on the introduction of the vaccine.

“Across the country we’ve had premieres talking about the really bad efforts we’ve seen on the vaccine program that puts us at the bottom of the OECD and, in the 120s, countries around the world for fully vaccinated people.” said.

“Still, here in South Australia, our Prime Minister Steven Marshall went out yesterday and said the introduction of the vaccine had been excellent.

“Of course it’s a race and other countries around the world are doing a lot better than us.”

Commonwealth government data released yesterday shows South Australia has so far administered 217,379 doses of vaccine in state clinics.

The data places South Australia behind NSW, Victoria, Queensland and WA.

“We currently have about 67,000 doses in the state government’s supplies, according to data released by the Commonwealth government yesterday,” said Picton.

“A vaccine left in a state government refrigerator does not protect the community.”

But the chief public health officer, Professor Nicola Spurrier, said last week SA Health vaccinated more than 33,000 people – the largest intake since the pandemic began.

She said the sites would increase their range of Pfizer vaccines and bookings.

“If we look at adults (in South Australia) – that’s 1.1 million – and our vaccination goal is 80 percent, well over a third of those people got their first dose,” she said.

“On average, around 25 percent of the population is eligible for vaccination.”

Spurrier said new evidence showed that the vaccines not only reduce disease severity and hospitalization rates, but also prevent people from becoming infected.

“When you become infected, it (the vaccine) stops transmission between you and another person,” she said.

“That is why we are so keen that everyone is vaccinated.”

It comes after the National Cabinet agreed yesterday to put in place a flawless compensation system that will allow GPs to administer AstraZeneca to all adults regardless of age.

Anyone willing to speak to their doctor about it can now get AstraZeneca vaccination, while Pfizer remains the vaccine of choice for those under 60.

Spurrier said she supported the decision.

“We need to make sure that the vaccine is available and accessible to everyone,” she said.

“Ultimately, with any drug, it is the patient’s choice and as long as they have had a solid discussion and understood the risks and once they have done this with their GP, it is really up to the individual to make that decision.

“I have no particular problem with this announcement.”

Two new coronavirus cases have been discovered in South Australia in the past 24 hours – a woman in their forties and a man in their fifties who have entered from overseas and are currently quarantined at a Medi-Hotel.

The couple are not related to each other.

There are currently eight active cases in South Australia.

“This means that while we are in a good position in South Australia, there is always a risk of transmission in a hotel. For this reason I will support the prime minister who says that vaccination is the best form of protection, ”said Spurrier.

It comes when the Queensland government announced this morning that the state’s southeastern, Townsville, and two islands would initiate a three-day lockdown after two new COVID-19 cases in the community.

The lockdown begins on Tuesday at 6 p.m. and will be lifted on Friday at 6 p.m. unless the situation worsens.

It includes residents of Brisbane, Ipswich, Logan City, Moreton Bay, Redlands, Sunshine Coast, Noosa, Somerset, Lockyer Valley, the Scenic Rim, Gold Coast, Townsville, Magnetic Island, and Palm Island.

Spurrier said she doesn’t want South Australia to be forced into the same situation.

“It’s so damaging, it’s damaging to our economy, it’s awful for us citizens of our state to have these lockdown orders,” she said.

SA enforces local restrictions

State Emergency Coordinator and Police Commissioner Grant Stevens signed a series of new local restrictions last night, which are expected to last for a week.

Masks:

Mask requirement in “high-risk situations” such as in hospitals and care homes for the elderly and the disabled

Mask requirement for people who offer personal care services such as hairdressers

Mask requirement in indoor areas with seating such as cinemas and theaters if their capacity is over 50%

Strongly recommended wearing a mask on public transport, including Ubers and taxis, or any other place where it is not possible to keep the required distance of one person per two square meters

Sealing caps:

A distance requirement of one person per two square meters in all locations

Licensed venues with 50 percent capacity (up from the previous 75 percent cap)

A cap for 150 people at private gatherings, including weddings and funerals

Maximum capacity of 75% in venues with seats

In inpatient elderly care facilities, where less than 70 percent of residents have received an initial dose of a COVID-19 vaccine, a resident is limited to two visitors per day

Food and alcohol consumption:

Food and alcohol consumed indoors must be consumed in licensed locations

Common areas with food and drinks (e.g. buffets) are not permitted

It is not allowed to prepare food in a bar

Activities:

Dancing is not permitted in licensed venues

Singing is not permitted indoors unless the singers are playing or rehearsing or singing in an educational establishment

Shisha / Shisha is not allowed

A COVID Safe Plan is required for fitness, recreational and sports activities

Spurrier said the visitor limit on elderly care facilities was imposed in response to the introduction of the vaccine.

She said 89 percent of the state’s elderly care facilities were unaffected by the restriction as 70 percent of their residents were vaccinated.

“This is just one example of where we are moving nationally and also in South Australia,” she said.

“When we know we have high vaccination rates, we can easily make different decisions about such restrictions.”

Stevens told ABC Radio Adelaide this morning that limiting pubs, clubs, restaurants and cafes to 50 percent of capacity would have the “greatest effect”.

“In the last few months we have worked with three employees per four square meters, which corresponds to about 75 percent of the capacity. So this is a reasonable step backwards for these companies and that will obviously have an impact, ”he said.

“The harsh reality is that we have a worrying situation in New South Wales, Queensland is of particular concern to Professor Spurrier and we are also seeing that the Northern Territory and Western Australia are also taking steps to control a possible outbreak there .

“I think it would be naive to expect that we avoided it completely.”

Stevens said authorities could not give an “absolute guarantee” that the restrictions would only last for seven days, but they were “hopeful” that the week-long deadline would give them enough time to see how other states are doing with theirs Circumvented COVID outbreaks.

“It’s a seven-day goal at this point and hopefully after that seven-day period we can go back to where we were 24 hours ago,” he said.

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Australian Hotels Association SA general manager Ian Horne told InDaily that he “estimated” the impact of the restrictions on the state’s economy would be on the order of $ 30 million.

He said the estimate is based on data from the Center of Economic Studies collected after the three-day lockdown last November.

“The cancellations were the same – we got calls from five-star hotels to caravan parks saying the bookings are just falling off,” he said.

“The immediate impact is on workers whose shifts are being cut or reduced, and this time they have no JobKeeper to fall back on.”

Meanwhile, Colin Shearing, CEO of South Australian Independent Retailers, said some supermarkets are already facing the depletion of toilet paper supplies caused by the return of panic buying.

He told InDaily that supermarkets currently have no shopping restrictions, but “that could change in a moment.”

“It’s just moronic behavior,” he said.

“At the moment there is no problem with the supply, but the problem is that the other states are blocked and we are only a small part of the market, of course South Australia will feel the effects as well.

“It’s not as bad as it was last year when we had a full lockdown, but it’s definitely noticeable.”

SA Pathology tested nearly 7,000 people yesterday.

– with AAP

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The post SA vaccination call as lockdown hits another state first appeared on Health be Told.

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