#i really try my best with flags and i just really hate having to scrap all that work

[mothiir]

sorry to be that rehash that droid de suggondeez plotline (I REFUSE TO CORRECTLY SPELL FRENCH) with big e stealing a wife but could we pretttty ppLEAAAASE get some more mothiir? i am obsessed with the eldritch inhuman but human behaviour you write him with. it makes me want to chew on him while simultaneously wanting to beat him with a brick out of hatred. i have so many ideas. but ill take anything you offer up fr ill live off the scraps like a feral dog, its just that the the whole david and goliath vibe is TASTYYYY. please dignify my complete insanity for just an intsy winsy second because all i can imagine is how utterly FUCKED the stolenwife!reader's pov is. you try fight back a little too much? oh haha, ur so cute, but keep biting or scratching him and he'll sicc one of the custodes (or a few) to really try you out. let you be so overstimulated youre begging for something in you, and oh boy big e'll sooo do that dont worry. or maybe humble you by keeping you basically half bare like yeah not so cocky now LMFAO IM SO SORRY I NEVER GIVE PROMPTS SO BRAZENLY LIKE THIS BC IM A COWARD FULL OF SHAMEEE UR SO MUCH BRAVER THAN MEEE (thank you sm if you do or dont run with anything i spat out just then)

first of all, never apologise for requesting stuff and also i totally respect your disrespect of the French language. as an englishwoman i am contractually obligated to hate those frog-eating bastards (disclaimer: this is satire pls don’t cancel me). secondly i absolutely love your description of my interpretation of big e because it is also exactly how i feel about him. beat him with brick, pat hair, back to brick. I know i have moved away from that content but I still wave my emperor fucker flag and am always taking requests for him

i promise there will be actual coherent fic soon, but for now here is a bullet pointed list of the sort of things that guilliwife experiences (if there is one in particular you want a full fix of let me know):

the Emperor steals you, and does not think to tell Guilliman — why would he? He fucks you, enjoys it tremendously, then has to go and do some important Master of Mankind warp fuckery that means you spend about a fortnight in some random rooms with no one to talk to but the Custodes. And they barely talk! You never work out if they are bodyguards or prison guards, since you can’t imagine that you are important enough to warrant guarding, but you also don’t think that there is much effort needed to stop you escaping. Where would you even go?

It would be so much easier if he was always a selfish monster in bed — but he isn’t. Worse: he eats pussy exactly how you think a man with millennia of practice would. He likes bringing you to the very edge of orgasm and just stopping, pillowing his cheek on your stomach and watching as you whine and cry, partly with guilt and partly with sheer frustration. You end up begging him to fuck you, stumbling out every title you can think of — lord, emperor, sire, master — but his patience is limitless, and he can keep going for hours, until you’re completely insensible, promising every depraved thing if he will just stop teasing and put it in you

You belong to him. No one else is allowed to touch you — apart from valdor, one of his oldest friends and dearest allies. And captain Kytan. And a few other custodes. Sometimes at the same time. They’re extensions of his most absolutely not divine will — they can partake in the same luxuries he allows himself, otherwise what kind of a leader would he be? He likes seeing his best soldiers happy, especially when it’s because valdor is balls deep in your arse, while he enjoys the sweet warm stretch of your throat. You jostle and whimper between them, so full that you can barely breathe, and afterwards the emperor watches as valdor thumbs open your cheeks, just to watch your holes struggle to close up around the shape of his cock. Still, valdor can’t linger too long - there is already a line

He will cum inside you so much you swear your stomach bulges a little from it all. You have nightmares about popping like a balloon

eventually word reaches the Emperor that Guilliman is looking to speak to him as a matter of urgency — he is currently buried deep in your throat, enjoying the cute little gluck-gluck-gluck noises your gag reflex makes as you try to fit him all the way into your tight gullet. He does not ask you to stop this before answering the vox from a distraught Roboute, who is blathering about his fiancée going missing? The Emperor chuckles a little to himself, patting your hair — ah, having a woman to be wed and a woman in his bed, Roboute is far more like his father than first thought — wait. Ah. Singular woman. Singular. Shit.

[polyamorouspunk]

Yooooooooooooooo Good Morning!

i actually woke up feeling better than I have been so my plan is to try to be just a little bit productive. Maybe wash some clothes. Maybe clean up my room. The possibilities are endless!

Also! Last night was my niece’s birthday and I gave her present to her! I got her and I tickets to go see the offspring, sum 41, and simple plan in september! She was so excited that she dive bombed me and almost broke my glasses!! I think I won the birthday this year lol

Oh wow! Amazing! What a line up!

I met some cool people at the concert last night including a guy and his girlfriend who had been a fan of them since they were Chicago locals (he was next to me so I talked to him more than her but she kind of nodded and listened) and a woman who said she was going to let her wife know she was getting out of line with me. I’m not good at starting conversations at concerts really but it seems people always end up talking to me, or I chime in eventually. I hope you both have fun.

I know this was sent like yesterday I think and then I talked to you today. I said I was reading and then going to bed but right as I put my book down everything hit me again and I started getting freaked out again so I figured I’d answer your ask.

My mom put my table back up in my craft room, so I can start working on physical stuff again. Right now I’m working on a series of hand-drawn pride pins. The first one I did was asexual and the design was recycled from the pin I made my cousin for her bag (which I posted on here and sent to you) and it feels very cottagecorey but I made a bisexual one of just flowers and while I’m really happy with the design I feel like it misses the mark of the vibe I’m going for. As a consumer I’m more drawn to greenery and mushrooms vs flowers, but I spent so much time on it I’d hate to scrap it. I’m hoping I can make other ones that really capture that cottagecore feel more, but it’s very hard since I’m trying to focus on realistic things that include those colors in my pride flags. I’m hoping to do some poison dart frogs with the lesbian flag or the rainbow flag maybe, since frogs are cottagecore. But yeah.

I want to start working on my patch pants in case I end up going to SSC. I know I told you originally I was and then I wasn’t going to which I haven’t like announced anywhere because even then I was still thinking “fuck it maybe I’ll just fucking fly up and go” BUT my best friend is trying to plan her wedding reception that week so we can still go BUT I called it off because our other best friend’s brother’s wedding got moved to that weekend and her family is very over-the-top so it’s going to be a all-weekend thing at LEAST and while I’m fine with having her reception on a weekday because I gotta take time off to go up there anyway I know I’m not the only guest. I’d *like* to think I’m the closest thing to a Bride’s Maid of Honor, you know, which was the dream back when I thought we were all cishet but mildly weird, before we were both like “fuck church weddings” and also before she was like “I’m going to get legally married for the tax benefits and shit” so like you know back when I dreamed of being her brides maid of honor. I am racking my brains trying to come up with a good present for her (my literal best friend since I was 5) and I have a few ideas but they’re going to take research and effort. You know I can’t just buy her a post card or like the keychain I got her when we went to pride for her literal wedding present.

Anyway that’s what’s up here I think I’m going to go eat and take my meds and do the self care you told me to do and hopefully by then I won’t feel so jittery.

[cinnamogai]

Lux/luxr/luxself

Mao/maos/maoself

La/lais/laceself

Pop/bop/pops/bopself

End/ender/enderself

Ge/gem/gemself

Bee/bem/beeself

vee/vees/veeself

I am so sorry for the excessive amount, I have a few alters who wanted to put theirs in as well. You don’t have to do all of them ofc, and feel free to ignore this too if you want :]

Also- I really appreciate and love what you’re doing here. Thank you so much for the work towards this community :)))

-💖💫✨

not to be rude at all, but i’m getting a bit irritated over this. i suppose you know, but it was made here. i spent all sunday and today trying to get these flags done, and for my work to immediately be for naught can be very annoying. i’ve asked for followers many times to not send requests to multiple people, and i wish that you honor that. please, just respect my time. i really try my hardest with these flags and i’m sorry i can’t be the fastest. i’ve got a personal life that can keep me from working as much as i’d like to. i’m sorry for being curt but i really am quite upset over this. i ask all of my followers to refrain from doing to, please. thank you for the compliments, though. i really do appreciate it.

[throughthejunobush]

Why I hate everyone in s5 (and a few things I like about some of them)

Clearly I’m invested in this season despite having about 0.000001% satisfying content (and I’m being very generous with the word satisfying here), but as the gif says, I’m in it, and when fictional characters treat our MC’s badly, I think the best thing for us to do is come together and rage about it so we can feel empowered in real life when real people treat us shitty.

So without further ado, a breakdown of the main LIs and what I like about them but mostly what I hate about them.

Suresh

Let’s start with the clear center of attention of this season. The one the writers desperately want us to be hung up on even though they refuse to give Suresh stans anything but abuse and scraps.

When the season started, I was all in on this man. He is incredibly hot, cocky, confident. I’m all about that. I have several fic ideas in my google docs on how to give this cheater a redemption arc. I was excited for Suresh to win MC back, hopefully in spite of all the gorgeous wonderful love interests that MC had to choose from…

What a sweet naive little baby I was back then. I will say that Suresh has some compelling moments. He says some really touching things. Even seems believable when he says them. But I quickly learned that even when you’re into him and ready to get back together, he pushes you away repeatedly, outright lies to you and any other girl he’s flirting with. He cheats on MC and takes a photo… A PHOTO of the girl, then doesn’t even have the good sense to delete it. Brazen! Then he tells MC it was a one time thing, he regretted it immediately, he couldn’t date anyone after her for a while, he never got serious with anyone after her. All lies.

And I’m no Arlo fan, but the way he treats her is seriously fucked up and shows his bad character. He acts super into her in front of others, then tells MC how she’s the only girl for him. Flirts with MC during his date with Arlo, in such a sneaky way that he makes Arlo believe that he’s flirting with HER. He even tells Arlo that he is completely over MC and that Arlo is the only girl he’s interested in, that he sees a future with her. No wonder this bitch is freaking out on MC all the time! Suresh is gaslighting the fuck out of her! To me, Suresh really lost all chance of convincing me that he cared about MC when Arlo starts yelling at her across the room because Suresh had been flirting with her (despite several attempts by MC to tell him to back off) and he just giggles and laughs like he’s having a grand ol’ time watching MC’s throat get ripped out. If he had stood up for her and told Arlo to calm down, taken the blame, I think I would be a Suresh stan right now. But he didn’t so I’m not.

Alfie

Ohhhhh Alfie. I wanted so badly to love him. He’s cute, charming, cheeky, seems to really like MC, he even understands the pain of being cheated on! He’s giving MC darling little nicknames (that he never uses when they’re actually coupled up). If you’re on a Dana route, he’s arguably even more endearing because he’s quietly pining after MC all that time while trying to remain a supportive bestie.

The first red flags with him were with Kat and Meera. He told Kat he only had eyes for her even though he’d been flirting shamelessly with MC the whole time. Then when Meera showed up, he was like, can someone please remove this bag of trash labeled MC so I can go sniff Meera’s perfect Barbie vagina?? He doesn’t truly want a real human person as a partner, apparently. He resents MC for having past relationships, and cannot DEAL, despite constant reassurance from MC. So when computer generated Meera shows up, who has no past to speak of, no drama, no impulse to challenge him or really do anything besides serve as a human laugh track to Alfie, he drops us so fucking hard despite telling us how special we were like two minutes earlier.

Inexplicably, he chooses MC anyway, and tries to act like he’s somehow being romantic? I’m sorry that I’m not swooning over your tortured moment of barely picking MC. I was all in on you and really liked you and you treated me like a burdensome problem you wish you didn’t have for the past 24 hours.

Well you know the rest. He tells MC he’s ready to commit for the rest of LI. He’s falling for her. He’s SERIOUS YALL. And then Kat merely alludes to MC just talking to Suresh, which Alfie already knew about because he left to let her do it, he runs off crying and shoves his tongue down his best friend’s girl’s throat so fast. The way he treats Finn is so fucking shady! What an immature baby Alfie is! He doesn’t want a real relationship. He wants to play pretend that he’s in love where everything is smooth sailing and his partner only exists to please him. Which is what he did when Meera came back A COMPLETELY CHANGED IMPROVED PERSON, after being away for like, 2…maybe 3 days? However much time it was, the Villa took longer blubbering goodbye to her when she got voted off (WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT BY THE WAY?)

Finn

Mostly, I like Finn okay. He’s pretty funny and fun to be around. But I don’t trust him. He’s been flirting with MC on the side the entire time and if I were Kat, I would be so hurt. I don’t like how he’s leading Kat on the believe that he’s all in on her and then telling MC she’s really the one he wants. Not to mention that he’s always like, hmm I like you MC and I can’t put my finger on why 🤔 uhh because I’m a hot awesome genius with the patience of a goddamn saint for not pulling a Carrie on this entire Villa??

That being said, in this fictional world, he might be the best option available in the next few weeks, so I’m not totally ruling him out.

Dana

Dana is arguably the worst character in LITG history. She is a bundle of contradictions. She’s your best friend and would NEVER mess with your ex (not that we asked her to do this, she VOLUNTEERS this information)… until she does mess with your ex and decides she wants to get to know him. She doesn’t want to get to know Eddie, except for when she does. She’s all in on MC and fancies her the most, except when Eddie, Suresh, Arlo, or Gabi are around.

She does all the same fucked up shit that Alfie did but she is extra shitty to MC during Casa, even though she actually had the option to talk things out. But no, she’d rather hump the leg of the girl your ex smashed your heart with, even though said girl is pathetically hung up on a guy who ghosted her and has spent the last several days announcing to the world that MC is the only girl for him (seriously, Gabi may be hot but she sucks, and not because she was the other woman. I don’t blame her for that). Even if you’re just friends with Dana, she ignores you the entire time at Casa when MC is reeling from being cheated on, YET AGAIN. And as soon as everyone is reunited and you have some SHIT TO SAY to about 15 different people, she drags you off to ask for advice and comfort because Gabi is being shady. Don’t care! You made your bed, go lie in it.

Nicolas

Jury is out on Nicolas. He’s hot and really nice to MC. I’m annoyed he hasn’t tried to touch MC’s boobs yet, though. And I’m nervous how they’re playing up his “love of drama”. I did think it was kinda cute when he’s like, I’m just trying to show you that your ex baggage doesn’t bother me. MC needed to hear that, and Nicolas is a schemer, but he’s the first fucking person to be on MC’s team and looking out for her. So he wins this week 🏆

I assume Johnny is similar, which is a shame because he had a very distinctive personality from Nicolas initially and sounds like they’re just melding them together or rather, giving him Nicolas’s personality.

Gabi

Full disclosure, i haven’t done any scenes with Gabi. Maybe she’s nice. I truly don’t blame her about Suresh cheating. I have no ill will towards her about that even though she seems to believe we’re competition. I do know that she was a bitch to MC when she came in, and that she is seemingly still hung up on Suresh even though he lied about her and ghosted her in the cruelest way. Which is annoying and sad. And she seems to be using Dana, which is also shitty. Doesn’t seem like a person I’d want to take a chance on.

Did I forget someone? If I did, they probably suck too.

[griffintail]

Dear Dad, We won Lmanburg, but we lost a lot. Eret betrayed us and we all lost our first lives in the control room. Tommy lost another in a duel with Dream. But we got our country. I-I'm going to be the best president- Dad, I lost the election. Schlatt and Quackity won and then exiled Tommy and I. Fundy was part of the mob. I lost my second life. We started a new country in a hole in the mountain. Tommy is trying to keep our spirits up. I'm not sure what to do, dad. I want to ask you for help but I know I can't- Dad, We found a ravine and Tommy and I asked Techno for help winning Lmanburg back. Tubbo is on our side but everyone else still hates us. Even Fundy. I'm not sure it's still Lmanburg. Dad, It's not our Lmanburg, I don't know what they've done but it's all wrong now. It's not a community, there's no freedom. It's gone. Everything we fought and killed and died for is all gone, now. The place Fundy grew up is gone. The place my little brother gave his two lives for is gone. It's just gone. Dad; I put explosives under Lmanberg. I'm going to use them if anything goes wrong. I have it all rigged to a secret button that only I know about. I'm not sure if I can press it, or if I should. Tommy says we shouldn't. Techno doesn't care. I don't know if I do, either. Dad; I think I might be the villain. Dad; I finally got rid of my stupid uniform. I got better clothes, now. They're for me. I have my beanie, again, and I don't look like the stupid soldier who risked his life for nothing. Who died for nothing. Dad; It's okay. I'm okay. Techno is right. Techno is right, about the government. About every government. The power just corrupted them. Just the thought of it did. I held the country together for years and it all has fallen apart. They changed the name to Manberg ages ago, but it only proves my point. Lmanberg is gone. Dad I'm never sending these letters. I know I'm not. You have no idea whats happened. There was a festival. Schlatt had Techno kill Tubbo in front of the crowd. The sick bastard had him planning his own execution just to prove a point. He knew about the TNT and got rid of it before the festival even happened so nothing happened when I tried to get us out of there. We had to run away from Lmanberg again. From the mob. From Fundy. Dad; I've never been so lost. Dad; I think Eret was right. Lmanberg was never meant to be. I keep visiting the room, I even rewrote the anthem. I can't seem to bring myself to press the button, though. I died for this scrap of ground and the rights of the people there, but they killed me for it. Maybe...maybe I should return the favor. Dad; Quackity left Lmanberg. He was Schlatt's husband and vice president. He's half the reason Schlatt won. He said he made a big mistake. He said he didn't understand. He says he wants to help us take down Schlatt. I think he's a spy. Dad; Fundy said I wasn't his dad today. Dad; Everyone is joining our side and they're all lying. They're all lying, they're all spies for Schlatt. If they hated him they wouldn't have killed me. They wouldn't have supported Schlatt every day. They would have left the second the election was announced. They would have left when he changed the flag. They're just using me. They're just using Techno. Dad; I keep visiting the room. The button is always there. I still haven't pressed it. But I should. Even if we win, Lmanberg is still gone. They people that made it have all turned against eachother anyway. Dream is with Schlatt. There's nothing left here. There's no one left. Dad; Fundy said that he was being a spy the whole time. He kept a diary. He's lying. Dad; They're all lying. Dad; I've decided I should do it. I'm going to press the button. I hope it kills me. There's nothing left here anymore. I want to die with Lmanberg. Maybe then they'll stop lying. Maybe then they'll understand. -Lemon

Phil reread the last line of the last letter over and over. The others gave him privacy while he read over the letters. It was heartbreaking to see the mental breaking his son had over the loss of the country he had built for freedom. Tears were slowly running down his cheeks before he startled feeling a weight around his waist.

He looked to see the little girl hugging him tightly. “(Y/N), when did you wake up from your nap?” He wiped his tears away before giving her hug back.

“Why are you crying?” She asked instead.

“I just...I read something really sad is all. I’ll be ok, thank you for the hug, it’s already helping me feel better.” He muttered. “You...really can’t talk to Wilbur at all?”

She shook her head and he sighed. “Why?”

“I just, I want to tell him I love him too.” He smiled sadly to her. 

“Sometimes he hears me when I talk about my day, I can try to tell him then.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Alright, thank you kiddo. It would mean a lot to me.”

[mmvalentine]

Will you do an Acotar scene lift from Rhys’s perspective under the mountain in between the trials? We only get vague mentions of what happens because of the wine Freyre and I think it would just be really interesting to see Rhys’s perspective. I love your writing btw it always makes me smile to see you’ve posted something ❤️

My darling let me tell you I really struggled with this, because these scenes hurt me a lot. Re-reading the scenes, it seems like Feyre spends the whole time really sick and wondering what happened while she was drugged and practically dissociating. BUT, I persist because I know you've been following for a while, and I so appreciate your support and wanted to make you something. I hope this is okay, it's not exactly the steamy stuff I usually write but it's my interpretation of what was going on (and let's be honest, my way of making sense of why Rhys was making not the best decisions).

In Between

Feyre was in danger. Again.

Aramantha's guards were dogs, and I wasn't surprised by this, but it was exhausting. Every time I turned my back there was something they were up to- taunting Feyre, giving her impossible tasks, threatening to torture her. As if being locked in a cell Under The Mountain wasn't bad enough.

I wasn't too proud to admit that I had become quite attached to the little human slip of a thing. She was so small, so fragile, so mortal. And yet here she was, a thorn in Aramantha's side the way that I... I couldn't be. Not if I wanted her eyes far away from Velaris.

So there I was, living vicariously through a human girl and secretly rooting for her like it's the only way I can defy Aramantha. I suppose it is.

For the last few nights, I'd taken to walking past the cell block to listen in on the guards. Nothing too alarming was happening for the first couple of days, but now that the next task was nearing, they had new orders. I was torn between exasperation that Feyre seemed to constantly be in peril, and a spark of interest. If Aramantha was trying to get Feyre killed between tasks, it meant some part of her was truly afraid she'd win. And I liked the idea of Aramantha afraid.

But the immediate situation on hand was that the guards were going to make her remove the salt from a high fae's bathwater, or else they'd pull the teeth out of her head.

For Cauldron's sake.

I would have thought it better for Feyre to sit quietly in her cell and be forgotten. At least she'd get a moment's peace between Aramantha's tasks. But in fact it seemed that Aramantha did not mean her to make it to the next task, and no one was watching her schemes.

So.

I'd have to keep an eye on her myself.

But how to do so, when I was also expected at Aramantha's revels every night? I'd just have to bring her with me.

If Under the Mountain was modeled after the Court of Nightmares, then at least I knew the rules of the game. I knew how to make people notice her.

And so the next night, before the guards could get to her again, I sent in spies to make sure she was going to be fit for a Nightmare revel. They brought clothes- but they were barely clothes. She'd be ripped apart in seconds with that much bare skin. Think, think.

There was one other way to cover skin. In the Illyrian tradition, with ink. I was sure enough of my reputation with the court that no one would risk touching her I was sure to find out. Okay. So Cerridwen and Nuala would paint her every bare patch of skin, and then no one could touch her.

The night of the revel arrived, and when I went to collect Feyre, she was trying to tear off her dress. Alarm flashed through me. Fool that I am, I hadn't considered the fact that of course she would loathe this role. Humans have such a low tolerance for wickedness.

"I wouldn't do that," I said from the doorway. Not willing to risk coming any closer, and scaring her into a panic.

"Our bargain hasn't started yet," she snapped. Hate flashed in her eyes, and I thought- good. She should hate me. I was Aramantha's whore, right? Fine. Better angry than scared. Better angry than vulnerable.

"Ah, but I need an escort for the party," I told her. Besides, I needed her haughty for the revel. Anything less, and they'd lose interest. "And when I thought of you squatting in that cell all night, alone..." Her eyes glazed hard, and her lips thinned. Perfect. "You look just as I hoped you would."

"Is this necessary?" she hisses at me, gesturing to the paint and silk ensemble.

"Of course," I say, letting cold soak into my voice. "How else would I know if anyone touches you?" To demonstrate, I ran a finger through the paint on her shoulder, and watched the paint fix itself. "The dress won't mar it, and neither will your movements," I told her. She needs to understand. "And I'll remember precisely where my hands have been. But if anyone else touches you- let's say a certain High Lord who enjoys springtime- I'll know."

But this was a serious point. I knew she'd want to go straight to him- Cauldron knows why, Tamlin is an insufferable pup- but I knew what she want. And I knew Tamlin had not a scrap of wit about him and would give it to her. And then Aramantha would tear us all to shreds. So.

I flicked her little upturned nose, noticing suddenly the smattering of freckles there and nearly getting distracted, and fed her the line I knew would stick. "I don't like my belongings tampered with."

If looks could kill, as they say in the Human realm.

"Come," I said. "We're already late."

Of course, that was entirely intentional. I needed all eyes on us- on her as we walked in the room. And indeed every head turned, some bowed but most just gawked at Feyre. We walked al the way to the dais, and stood before Aramantha. And Tamlin.

I'd once told Feyre that I'd wait to tell Tamlin about our little bargain. Wait until the right time. No point in exciting him into a rage while everything hung in the balance, I thought. Then again, if it were my beloved in Aramantha's cells... rage would not be an adequate word. But that was another reason I thought very little of the High Lord of Spring. Maybe a little rage would do him some good.

"Merry Midsummer," I said, bowing to Aramantha. Every time I did it, I wanted to vomit on her feet.

"What have you done with my captive?" she said, displeasure darkening in her eyes. Her tone was light, though, and I knew she'd not make a fuss in front of all these people.

"We made a bargain," I said. "One week with me at the Night Court every month in exchange for my healing services after her first task." I raised her arm to reveal the tattoo, dull next to the shining paint. "For the rest of her life."

I couldn't help it. I stared straight at Aramantha, and knew she understood my words. You tried to have her killed and I helped her. I see life beyond this mountain. I think she's going to win. It was only the thought of my family back home that prevented me from spitting the words in her face.

"Enjoy my party," was her only reply. And Tamlin? Tamlin did nothing. Didn't stir, just gripped the arms of the throne like the useless fuck he was.

I led Feyre away, and wondered if she was going to make it through the night. There was a lot of performing to be done, by both of us, if I was going to keep her out of the cells and away from the guards until the next task. Then my eyes lighted on the feasting table.

"Wine?" I offered Feyre a goblet. The perfect solution- if she drank the wine, she wouldn't have to act. Even more merciful- she wouldn't have to remember. But she shook her head.

I smiled, knowing that it did not make up for the cruel games I'd be playing this whole time. Knowing it'd do little to comfort her. "Drink. You'll need it." As much of the truth as I could tell her. Drink, I begged, kneeling at the doors of her mind.

"No," she said, and I gritted my teeth. Pushed against those doors, the flimsy shields that were far too easy to step through. I'm sorry, Feyre. I'm so sorry.

"Drink," I said, and her fingers latched onto the goblet.

As soon as the wine was gone, Feyre's body went loose. I caught her up in my arms, and her eyes were vacant. It horrified me. It was perfect.

I led her to a table and sat her down in my lap, scanning the crowd and knowing that fae all around the room were still watching us. I reached for my own goblet, and wished I could forget, too.

"Dance, Feyre," I said, as she started to slump in my lap. That would not do.

She stood unsteadily to her feet, right between my knees, and swayed to the music. Lifted her arms, trailed her hands down the sides of her breasts, and closed her gold-lidded eyes as she moved.

In any other setting, she might have been exquisite.

Here, she was hollow. She wasn't in her body, there was just a dress and some paint. And I wondered if she would ever forgive me for this. I doubted it.

A High fae came up to us, stood behind Feyre and started to dance with her. Feyre turned to him, reached for him. I grabbed her arms, and smoothed them back down to her sides.

"Mine," I growled at the fae, and his eyes narrowed, but he backed away. Cauldron. This was going to be my entire evening.

I let her dance until she started to flag, and then I set her carefully back in my lap. Couldn't let her sit anywhere else, couldn't let her out of my sight. Not like this. Not in this state.

And then when she started to droop again, I got her up to dance. Up down, dance, sit. Up again. A whole fucking routine that made me want to blow my brains out. The only upside was that Tamlin kept his eyes on us the whole time, and hated every moment. And yet still, he didn't move from his throne. Delightful.

When finally the night started down and everyone was disappearing to either their own beds or someone else's, I led Feyre back to her cell. Let her collapse on the pallet and sleep off the wine. By the time I got back to my own room, the self-loathing was enough to choke on.

But Feyre had made it through the night alive.

And if this is what it took to get her through to the second task, then I could keep doing it. After all. What was a handful of nights are fifty years Under the Mountain?

****

Agh I really don't know if this is worth anything, but I hope you get something out of it dearest, and if you don't you can always send me a different scene and I'll try again if I can x

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 5/25/21

in which we find ourselves at yet another tuesday

listening ten cent pistol by the black keys off the album brothers. i’ve had this album on loop this week to try to figure out why i like it much more than their new one, and i think the answer is: this album came into my life at a very specific time. i remember borrowing it from the library to rip it to put on my ipod, and then precariously balancing my ipod in the cigarette box holder in my stupid little toyota rav 4, and then listening to it play back all tinny from the ipod speaker while i drove to the feed store an hour away. the very best used bookstore in the world is another twenty-minute drive from there, just past six flags, and i can remember exactly how the pine shavings and purina feed and my f’real cookies and cream milkshake from wawa smelled in the summer. i don’t think the heating or cooling systems worked the entire time i owned that car.

reading fallow week. well. not really fallow. i have been reading. i’ve just hated all the comics i’ve been reading and don’t have anything interesting to say about them.

watching skyfall (2012, dir mendes) christ on a bike this film is almost ten years old. let daniel craig be free. he is so tired.

look i know it’s just a very fancy franchise about cops doing war crimes. however, braver people than me have dissected every aspect of this franchise and you can go read that scholarship elsewhere. for right now i am turning my brain off and going “wow, cool stunts!”

fun fact this was the first movie i saw in theaters by myself. that sounds juvenile but did make me stop feeling weird about going to see movies by myself. also my favorite bond soundtrack. also also i am not immune to daniel craig. i don’t think i want to fuck him i just think his face is neat and i like him as an actor. same brain bucket as lee van cleef. but that’s beside the point.

ANYWAY, hit the line “what makes you think this was my first time?” as bond is tied to a chair under threat of sexual assault, and i think about the absolute Scraps of representation and how this was enough to make me and so many of my friends go YOOOOOOO!!!! for literal YEARS and come up with a million bi headcanons. again! this was nearly ten fucking years ago and it was a very different media landscape.

also it has one of the best non-car chase scenes in the franchise

playing samorost 1 (pwyw on itch.io, free on steam and mobile) and samorost 2 ($5 on itch.io). i had $5 in my paypal cashback thing but not $20 so samorost 3 will have to wait for another day.

exceptionally charming little things, if a touch frustrating. the library i used to work at would have various games just up on computers in the junior readers’ area, and this feels like one we’d have up were out children's librarian not...the way she was. sort of a learning/logic toy, mostly just a pretty little art bauble. i say “frustrating” bc i did not grow up with point-and-click adventure games and do not have a firm grasp of their logic, and also bc i have hit a truly fascinating bug that stops me from completing the last scene.

making not a ton going on this week. i did make a good if slightly soggy sausage and kale pasta thing but it is LONG gone

[slothgiirl]

the trash pile: alex turner x reader

The cybernetic augmentation juts out from her temple, leading down to her chin, the metal a dull grey. Nothing says belter more than slap job augmentations, Alex thinks as she smiles at him, reaching out with her hand to him.

He takes it.

She's pretty from what he can see from the dim yellow lights in the club. The augmentation somehow complementing her already well formed cheekbones. A mess of bleached blonde hair falling down her shoulders.

And she's already offered, dragging him out onto the floor shamelessly. He'd rather dance with a beautiful woman than stand around drinking and having to listen to all his friends talk about people, things, he's unfamiliar with.

They've moved on.

The floor flashes bright blue to the beat of the music. Too loud to carry a conversation. Too loud to think. Alex can finally stop overthinking, what he's done since he landed on Tranquility base six hours ago.

Her touch is solid and confident, hands on his shoulders as she laughs, one hundred percent in the moment. He doesn't think he's ever been like that. Her ease is as natural as Alexa's charm.

His gaze flickers back to the table they'd been sharing, but they've dispersed into the club. He can't see a trace of any of his friends. Matt had long since left, having a ceremony to wake up for. "Tomorrow," he'd grinned, promising a night of debauchery.

"Hey," Taylor calls into his ear, bringing his attention back to her, blue eyes like the sky back on earth. None of the gaudy recreations of sky broadcasted through the colonies. Mars was said to not even bother, letting it's people grow up with an orange sky.

She smiles, tilting her head, before leaning in.

And wow, Alex really has been alone for too long, as her lips on his send his heart beat into a frenzy. Blood rushing in his ears like a teenage boy all over again. It isn't real, but he thinks in that second he loves her.

Alex always has been a romantic.

They leave the club together. The corridors are still red for the night. The one thing he hadn't missed. Even Ceres had better artificial lighting mods.

"I've got to go to work," Taylor tells him bluntly, "but you should give me your number. I think we could have a lot of fun together." She looks at him with hopeful eyes, biting her lower lip. He wants to kiss her again.

But, he'll be gone the day after tomorrow. The entire base holds too many ghosts for him to feel entirely comfortable. It makes him keep looking over his shoulder, expecting Josh or Julian. Two people he's long since lost touch with.

"I'm actually not staying that long," he admits as she leads them through the corridors. Alex can still recognize the alcoves he and Matt would take smoke breaks in. Which turn would lead them back to the lifts. Another life.

"That's a shame."

He chuckles. Before his mind catches up with his tongue, "wait, did you say you're going to work now?"

"Yeah. Its so fucking boring," Taylor says, stopping besides the lifts. "Coms graveyard shift." She rolls her eyes.

"I don't blame ya," he admits. Alexa had worked the coms. She'd always complained about having to go thirty seven floors below, bundled up in jackets. Since it was less populated, the government enacted more energy saving features.

"Maybe we'll see each other again in the drift," she grins suggestively, right as she steps into the lift.

Alex watches the doors closed, before he turns around, deciding to go find an open store. He could go for some more coffee while he's here. Maybe even stock up on it. It shouldn't be hard. The Base wasn't a residential area. Tourists were coming and going as well as SFN members.

There was the launchpad.

He lets himself wander. Too buzzed to be as tired despite the early call time he has in the morning. It would be just his luck to miss Matt's big promotion because he'd overslept after having traveled a month to be here.

It's not hard to find an open bodega. The open sign flashing green in the dim of the night.

Maybe he should've gotten the night vision implants after all. Miles never shut up about it. How easy it was to make his way about different colonies even during night cycles. And you could only tell if you were looking for the little silver ring around the iris.

Alex slips inside, making a bee line for the food. It's been hours since he last ate. At this point a cup of noodles and instant coffee sound like a dream. He gets the little powdered donuts as well. Then goes for the liquid milk creamer.

Who knows when he'll next have that option. No one had yet to figure out how to increase cows milk production in space. And powdered never tasted the same.

He looks at the fruit. Incredibly overpriced since it's a bodega. But apples and oranges. . .Alex could still remember the taste of fresh squeezed orange juice his mother would make. She'd cut them all open, let him squeeze the juice out before sucking on the pulp.

Alex grabs the smallest oranges.

There's no reason not to splurge. He has the money for it. And work is never hard to come by with his skill set. There's a large market for the skills SFN ensigns have, but most of those ensigns just stay with the navy.

He turns to go pay for his small haul, but the sight of a woman staring out of a faux porthole stops him in his tracks.

Her profile could not hide how beautiful she was, her gaze caught by the live feed of the earth on the other side of the moon. Romantic dark eyes gazing into the side of the bodega, her questionable egg salad sandwich forgotten in her hand. The bump in her prominent nose only served to make her profile more striking.

"That's not actually the earth," Alex starts gently, catching her attention. "Ya know." She turns to him, trying to hide the fact that she'd jumped, startled by his presence. And doing a damn good job at brushing off the surprise.

He was right. She's beautiful. Well formed full lips. Her dark hair tucked a braid, looking better in trousers and patched up hoodie than most people could dressed to the nines. Her shoes stick out from the casual ensemble, patent red leather with a split toe. There's the hint of dark circles under her eyes, probably from a missed nights sleep.

And a scattering of light scars like stars by her left cheekbone.

"I know," she responds, "I just never thought I'd ever be this close to the earth."

"You could take a trip to the other side and see the real thing," he muses, unable to hide the longing in his voice. Alex knew in his bones he'd never step foot on earth again. Never walk the streets in Sheffield or London again. But he couldn't help but wish for a miracle.

She shakes her head, the warmth in her eyes receding as she closes herself off. "Can't. Have to meet with a friend and then go back."

"Must be a good friend if you've come all this way."

She shrugs noncommittally, "He's more of an acquaintance of a friend. I've never actually met the man. But things being as they are," she explains, "it's best done in person."

Alex is now intrigued, a red flag raised in the back of his mind that still flies away information happening in the corner of his eye just in case. It makes him a damn good private investigator. "Mysterious."

"Forgive me for not spilling all my secrets to a stranger," she notes, arching a brow.

He can't help but chuckle. "Ya got me there love. Let's try something else."

"Like what," she asks, the corners of his lips turning up.

"How are you finding our moon?" The moon might not think it was the earth's, and the government sure wasn't, but the moon still spun around the earth the way it had for millions of years.

"Disappointing," she admits, frowning, "Ceres is livelier. And would it kill them to use brighter lighting?"

"Austerity measures," Alex shrugs. It had been the answer for as long as he'd been alive.

"From what," she asks, tilting her head, a smirk forming on her lips, "there's no war or reason for shortages."

"Just repeating the party line," he admits.

"Well," she raises her sandwich like a sad little white flag, "I've got to get going. It was nice meeting you."

"Can I get your number?"

Surprising him, she shakes her head, "No. I doubt we'll ever meet again. I don't plan to stay on the moon for long."

"Lucky for you," he counters, following her to the sales woman, built like a rugby player, "I'm not from the moon. So there's hope yet for our paths to cross."

She snorts, digging around her pockets for money, slowly building up a pile of change to pay with. "Let me guess," she says knowingly, as her eyes look him over, taking in his hair now curling past his ears, the navy blue sweater and white shirt combo that had felt smart earlier but had wrinkled in the course of the night. "you're from earth."

Alex answers bashfully, "born there." He always felt like apologizing for having been born on Earth. For having spent his childhood breathing in air without a care. For not knowing how precious an atmosphere was.

"Well I don't plan to go to earth," she trails off, waving her receipt away.

"Neither do I." He hands the lady a bill too large for what he's bought and follows her out the door, not bothering for his change. "But I take it there's no way I can convince you to give me a number?"

"None."

"How about a name," he offers. Alex had not seen one person that he'd bothered to chase in years. And here she was, indulging him as though he was a stray puppy she had fed once and now followed her around in hopes of more scraps.

"Yours first," she snipes back, not missing a beat.

"Alex." He doesn't ever bring up his last name. Too much weight. A famous family. And an infamous past. Being just Alex was a luxury.

"Tisiphone."

A name fitting for someone born in the jovian system. Maybe even Dione. But Dione, while a newer colony, wasn't bloody awful for someone to want to leave. It had to be-"Titian," he guesses. The wild west of space. SFN cadets hated getting assigned there. Johanna had said the worst part was the perpetual twilight.

Too many crevices to hide in.

"Yes," she responds, "and hopefully never again."

"If we ever meet again," the romantic in him already imagining them crossing paths in a Callisto settlement, planting trees for the rest of their lives and learning to work wood, "can I take you out for a cuppa?"

Tisiphone laughs, smiling tight lipped, "If it happens then I'll say yes earth boy."

** ** ch 2

The ceremony drags on.

They all sit, gathered around the Kennedy Hab, the first large permanent building on the dark side of the moon. The benches are as uncomfortable as ever, as Alex gazes down at a sea of navy uniforms all with various ranks on their right shoulders. He's seated right next to Alexa. The boys down there somewhere with Matt.

It's an SFN event so Alex's paranoia is right for once. The second glances the captains and commanders threw his way were knowing. They recognized him.

It sets his teeth on edge.

Alexa pats his knee, comfortable around him despite their shared history. Johanna besides him with her fiancé. They both keep glancing at each other, infinite in their whispering. He wants that.

"I'll throw hands at anyone who says anything," Alexa reassured him. Looking especially nice in a long red dress. She's not single. But it clearly isn't serious enough if she didn't bring him along to celebrate her friends.

"That would make it worse," Alex responds, keeping his gaze forward, careful to keep his face neutral. It usually wasn't a problem. That being his default expression. But this was bringing up events from his past he's long since buried.

"Derek was supposed to be here," Alexa says to try to distract him, "you would've liked him. Life of the party. Miles and him had a one night stand and now we're all friends."

"Well that's not saying much considering Miles will sleep with anything."

She laughs, "True. But even Nick gets jazzed to hang out with him and you know how hard it is to get close to Nick."

"He's just careful about who his friends are," Alex acknowledges. Unlike Nick, Alex was just terribly bad at opening up.

Nick was just picky. "That says something good about little old me." Alexa twirls her hands over her head. Sticking her nose in the air. "Not such a mess after all."

"You've never been a mess," he tells her, watching as they begin to call up all the newly minted commanders. Matt shouldn't take long. H being closer to the front of the alphabet.

"Yeah but I've never been particularly good at anything but charming my way into things," she shrugs shamelessly. Alexa wasn't the type to lose sleep over her insecurities.

The Admiral present at the ceremony, Marcus Kapoor, speaks clearly over the microphone, "Commander Matthew Helders."

Alexa and Johanna both stand up, yelling, "congrats!" Alex claps as loud as he can for a beat longer than the rest of the room as Matt shakes hands with the Admiral.

Alex remembers his own ceremony seven years ago now. It had been a smaller affair. His entire career accelerated by his talent.

He swallows back the bitter lump that forms in his throat. There's no reason to cry over spilled milk, his father had often told him back on earth.

Try telling that to anyone who doesn't live on earth: most milk is powdered in space.

He finally lets his eyes search through the crowd, trying to spy the man who'd once been his great mentor and friend. But if Julian is present, Alex doesn't see him among the uniforms. He's sure that he'd know Julian anywhere. His hair perpetually sticking out wildly like he'd just woken from a nap, streaks of color running through.

It was a welcome sight from the mandated navy and neutral colors the SFN preferred. Everything was done to keep the SFN neutral, trying to avoid any conflicts between the colonies. And especially between Mars and Earth.

Unable to wait, Alex asks Alexa, "did Julian come?" Julian and Matt had never been as close as Alex had been to the older man, one of the rare people to turn down a promotion. But Alex thinks Julian still would've come and cheered Matt on.

Drinking at bars until morning talking about life and chatting about their mutual obsession with vintage terran music cemented friendship like nothing else.

She frowns, lines forming between her brows. "Captain Casablancas?"

"Yeah," Alex nods, a nervousness creeping into the lining of his stomach. Julian had also been the only person present during the incident that had chosen not to testify. If he had, Alex had agonized long hours over that large IF, he'd probably have been given a far harsher sentence.

And it looked like the man had finally accepted the rank of Captain.

Alexa places her hand on his arm, doe eyes settling on his, before gently attempting to break the news, which given what she was saying, was impossible to break gently. "You haven't heard?"

"No."

"Julian's dead Alex," Alexa explains, her hand anchoring him to reality, even as his world lurches, "some accident with a faulty seal."

Fuck.

What the bloody hell!

Alex clenches his jaw. Julian deserved more than dying in a preventable accident. He was, and remained the only person to have jumped tracks at the SFN, going from maintenance to exploration.

"I'm sorry," she tries, patting his arm with her hand. "I know you two were close. This is sort of the worst way to hear the news isn't it?"

"How long ago," Alex asks in lieu of responding to her. Julian. Alex could hardly call him a friend anymore.

By the time he'd worked up the courage to message the man, Julian hadn't bothered responding at all. A cold message that Alex could understand.

He hadn't tried to contact him again.

"Three weeks."

Alex nods, fixing his gaze on the stage. The names being spoken, called up on stage, meaningless now that Matt had gone.

He'd been traveling to the Base.

No one had bothered to tell him.

They make their way down to Matt, navigating the crowd who are also here to celebrate their relatives and friends. Alexa led the way, cutting through the crowd like a knife through butter.

Jo and her fiancé hold hands. His eyes never leave her form as she leads on.

Alex frowns.

He'd thought. . .he'd thought, when Matt had first met him upon arrival at the base's landing pad, that he could slide back into his old life. Pick up where he'd left off. Maybe get a job here permanently.

Alex hadn't realized how lonely he'd been until he'd sat around and watched all his friends eat and drink. Easily communicating with each other they way only tightly knit groups of friends could. Finishing each other's sentences.

They had once been like that with Alex. But years in between meetings left him out of the loop. It didn't help that he had chosen to self isolate. Choosing to take jobs that left him without a permanent home, spending his free time tucked into various hotel rooms.

"Alexander Turner," a voice calls out.

He turns, faced with a black woman in a sleek khaki green suit, a moon police officer uniform. Her hair is as sleek as the press of her suit. Dark curls dusted with grey hairs.

"Yes," he asks, halting with great hesitation. The last time he'd dealt with the moon police, they were ensuring he was under house arrest during his trial. For his safety they'd told him over and over.

"I'm Major Gabriela Moss," she tells him, sticking her hand out with great formality. "If you'd please come with me," she continues, as he shakes her hand. "There's a job I'd like to discuss with you."

Swallowing any nervousness he has, he nods. How bad could it be? Probably some white collar crime that the police don't want to deal with. Alex could stock up on lots of coffee with the money. "Lead the way."

She takes him to the precinct, located next to the base. Tranquility Base fell under SFN jurisdiction. But the residential areas ringing the building were left to the MP 505 precinct.

Her office is just like every other police office. Bright disorienting lights. Cream walls, with no decor. A desk bolted down to the floor, in case the artificial gravity malfunctions. And a photo of her wife and kids tilted just out of his view.

"What's the job?" Alex wonders if some idiot tried to rob the casino that was right within the base’s building. Trying to steal from SFN was asking for it.

"A man was found murdered in residential bloc 571 this morning," she explains, lighting up her monitor. A photo of an older man with a walrus mustache came up on the screen.

"Isn't homicide your department," Alex asks, twisting his ring around his finger.

"Usually," Major Moss admits, back straight, hands on the desk. "But this man had a false identification bracelet. According to our records he was born on the Moon. But when my officers requested his file from the Bloc listed, nothing appeared."

"You think he was hiding?" Only criminals bothered to falsify ID bands. But why the moon? He could see why a fugitive from the law or a crime boss would come to the moon, but to stay here this long?

Even earth was easier to get lost in, among billions.

"Yes," she surmises, "and for quite a few months. How he's gone undetected this long is a mystery."

"So you'd like to save your skin and sweep this all under the cover." Alex can see a coverup as it happens. The MPs would be humiliated at having let a fugitive run wild for this long.

But, he probably wasn't a criminal if he spent this long without so much as a word. Probably fleeing loan sharks back on some asteroid. Maybe from Titan.

The murder must have landed yesterday. Within the week at most.

"Will you take the job on," Major Moss asks, "there's more information I have if you agree to take on the case."

Alex sighs. He's intrigued. But taking on this case would mean spending more time on the moon which is both a good and bad thing. He hasn't had a proper chat with any of the lads since he last saw Matt on Vesta nearly two years ago now.

But he isn't exactly at ease this close to SFN. At least in the belt, there's lots of stations with little to no navy presence. Callisto's base was generally isolated from the rest of the population due to the way in which the colony on Callisto had developed.

A man's dead.

And from what he can tell, Major Moss would be more than happy for the case to go cold and never have to explain to her superiors how a man went undetected for so long.

But why bother?

Alex can't understand why the man needed to falsify his identity only to sit around. Unless he wasn't a criminal but innocently caught up with the wrong crowd.

It happened easily enough.

"Why me," Alex asked, still considering how suspicious it looked that the MP were giving away a case just because of the implications the man's murder had. The IDB read Sidney Trojan which made Alex laugh a little inside. Whoever had made the ID had a certain sense of humor. "I'm sure you've read my record by now."

Major Moss nods, leaning back in her metal chair, "Mutiny and treason are certainly high charges. But Mr. Turner, If I am being frank, I am more concerned right now with keeping the peace in my precinct. The last thing I want is any belter extremist to start making baseless accusations about how someone who is more than likely one of their own was treated."

"I'm not a belter." Alex had spent enough time among belters to know, no matter how much time he spent on Vesta or Pallas, he'd never be one of them. Being born and raised there was what made you a belter for the rest of your life. Johanna never bothered to hide the augments along her spine, jutting out like filled out ports. Held her chin up proudly despite the harassment she got, and proceeded to destroy them all in combat training.

"But you have spent time among them," the woman argues, revealing how little she knows and understands about belters. Major Moss had probably never left the moon. Never spent time amongst people in the belt, in the places the SFN never went. "My men are mostly from here or earth. You're my best option."

He resists the urge to roll his eyes. It didn't seem like a trap to lock him up after all these years. Just a very ignorant MP major trying to do her job. "Alright," Alex nods. "Show me the surveillance tapes."

The older woman smiles, but no warmth reaches her eyes, a picture of cold professionalism, as she ignites the screen. The tapes start playing almost immediately. The night vision casting everything into grayscale in the corridors. The older residential buildings hadn't anticipated the amount of people that would live on the moon, the walkways connected the blocs only fitting three people at a time, a nightmare in an emergency. They were colorless concrete slabs, the metal having long gone dull.

Time stamped to 05:46 am.

A single figure appears, walking into bloc 571, looking like any person would after a long shift. In jeans and a loose hoodie, holding a very sad convenience store sandwich. A profile he wouldn't soon forget, complete with split toe boots.

Tisiphone.

Alex tries to justify her appearance. The death hadn't happened until 7 am. She must've been meeting her friend in one of the habs in the bloc. But he'd never been one to discount a coincidence.

It seemed that they would be having a chat sooner than anticipated under less than favorable circumstances. He just had to track her down.

His eyes watch the screen as the time ticks by, creeping closer to the time of death.

She claimed to be here to visit a friend which could very easily have been a lie to cover up meeting her potential victim. Tisiphone hadn't been here for very long, no one would willingly choose to eat convenience store sandwiches if they'd spent time here to get other food. Alex wasn't discounting the possibility of her commitment to looking inconspicuous at 5 in the morning, but then, if Sidney Trojan had feared for his life there would've been a struggle.

Someone would have heard in those older habs.

The time stamp reads 6:24am.

Tisiphone leaves the bloc, taking the passageway leading back to Tranquility. Mr Trojan would still be alive. Did she have an accomplice? Or is Alex making the wrong connection.

The time stamp reads 7:46 am. Mr Trojan would've been dead by now.

7 am was hardly the time for a murder to be committed. People going to work. So many witnesses. They must have been desperate. But the tapes proved useless to narrow down any suspects. Too many people, a perfect crowd to hide in. So there was that advantage. As well as, "I need all the records of the passenger manifests arriving for the last three days on the dark side of the moon and today's departures."

"Alright," she replies, holding out her hand.

Alex hands over his com. Letting her synch it up to her system and sending the files over.

"Good luck Mr. Turner."

This time, Alex does roll his eyes as he leaves her office.

Tisiphone had claimed to be from Titan, so that's the first thing he checks. Three days sound about right. He also highlights any belter arrivals. But apart from one family two days before, no one has come from the belt.

He finds the name he's looking for. Tisiphone Velazques, arriving from Hygiea the same night he had. Born on Titian twenty two years ago according to her IDB. It said a lot about how pathetic Alex was that he was currently finding a potential date on a suspect list.

She might still be innocent. But she was the only lead.

If she's a criminal, she'll be staying off grid, not wanting to leave her IDB just anywhere. But, being through, Alex checks Tranquility Hotel anyways, sending a message.

Want to surprise my girlfriend T. Velazques. It's our anniversary and I got back from a trip into Tethys four sols early. Has she checked in yet?

People were really stupid and easily fooled. Alex had learned that in the last few years.

Then he checks his messages. Twenty seven texts from his friends. Two missed calls from Matt. Shit. He'd forgotten all about Matt.

** *** ch 3

Matt clasps an arm over his shoulders, "I'm sorry I didn't say anything about Julian. I thought you knew and didn't want to talk about it."

Alex considers coming clean, but decides letting Matt think this is about Julian is easier. "No one tells me anything anymore."

The taller man sighs, "you must think I'm a wanker for not even telling you. Julian always asked me how you were doing you know."

Alex shakes his head. "I tried-It doesn't matter anymore. I just think it's bloody awful to have died so young in an accident of all things."

"The idiot engineers better have been court martialed," Matt comments, as they follow behind their friends to a bar in the casino. They've all been casting looks towards Alex when they think he's not looking, like he's a bomb about to go off.

Things can never go back to the way they were.

They get a few pitchers of beer. Singing Matts praises at every sip, taking the piss about how he's going to be the worst commander ever. Alexa's boyfriend, looking tall, dark and handsome, slips into the conversation with ease while Alex, drinks and checks his phone for a response.

"Alexa's boy toy," Johanna mutters under her breath to Alex. "Does the books for one of the gambling halls."

Alex nods. But finds he doesn't care. All that earlier anxiety about his leftover feelings for Alexa, his first love, gone when he realizes there's no sting as she turns to kiss her boyfriend.

He looks down at his com, refusing a refill of beer when he realizes the hotel's written him back. With a digital key and their congratulations. There goes the supposed privacy and protections hotels were supposed to offer their clients.

But this meant he was now leaning to Tisiphone being innocent. But he could tell she was connected to Mr. Trojan somehow. A gut feeling that t9ld him he was barking up the right tree. She might be able to tell him who would want the old man dead and why.

Alex excuses himself from the celebration, pointedly ignoring Nick's suspicious gaze as he leaves.

He stops and picks up a bottle of wine and a quart of strawberries, each the size of his smallest nail with a hint of red at the tip, just in case anyone in the hotel decides to verify any of his information. He can play the part.

Alex presses the elevator up to floor 10, brings up the key on his com, when the machine asks for verification.

The doors slide shut and Alex tries to formulate a plan.

He can't frighten his only suspect-link to the crime. A man was murdered and if he doesn't solve it, justice will never be served. It's his good conscience that's going to get him in trouble all over again.

The hallway is empty.

A tacky red coat of paint that's made worse by the orange lighting. The crimson hue edging towards black. Hardly a happy atmosphere.

Alex runs his hand over the rail, a vestige from the days before antigravity, as he makes his way to room 1004.

Unlike the lobby, the floor is still metal plates welded together. Shiny compared to the rest of the place.

The casino had seen better days.

And more occupied days.

Hesitating outside the door, he places an ear near the seal, hoping that Tisiphone isn't there. It would give her the advantage if she turns out to be the murder.

Better for her to be out. Gives him a chance to look around.

He takes a deep breath and unlocks the door with the key. It slides open smoothly, revealing mustard walls and a plush navy carpet flecked with gold. There's a small bed on one side of the wall, a black backpack laying carelessly on it.

The small cabinet looks untouched, but Alex still goes through every drawer, making sure he misses nothing, peaking into the bathroom and combing the medicine cupboard.

There's a needle and dental floss. A complimentary bottle of toothbrush tabs laying in its side.

Needle and floss.

For an injury, Alex surmises. Perhaps a fresh one that Mr Trojan had managed to inflict while defending himself? It wasn't the easiest way to treat an injury, but it was the way to go if you didn't want to draw any attention.

He slips back into the small main room, and begins to go through the backpack. It looks standard issue, the fabric a vegetable leather nylon mixture that wouldn't be out of place in an SFN pack. But he doesn't recognize it from any planetary police force.

Inside there's a plasma gun with two full charges. Shrapnel in a jar. An extra shirt along with a lined jacket, also black. And a small copper data box.

He checks the jackets pockets, finding two extra IDBs. Both blank.

It's all very incriminating.

And he didn't think to bring a gun along himself.

Alex removes the charge from the plasma gun, using the pillowcase to ensure he doesn't wipe away any fingerprints, tossing both of the charges into the bottom drawer of the cabinet. And leaves the gun on top of the blanket.

Then he takes a seat and waits.

No one would leave a gun with no plans to come back and get it. Plasma guns were hard to come by. Especially for civilians on the right side of the law.

It was just his luck that the first woman he feels any connection with, ends up tied up in criminal activity.

The whoosh of a door sliding open jolts him out of his thoughts.

Alex sits up straight, deciding he looks less confrontational if he's sitting down. Besides, years of training haven't left. His body still remembers combat maneuvers. He still wakes up at 0600 and goes through basic training like clockwork.

Even when he goes back to sleep right after.

A red boot steps inside.

Tisiphone holds a brand new pair of ear pods, still in their case. The moment she spots him sitting casually in her bed, her almond eyes narrowing in suspicion. Her grip tightens on the case, before she schools her features carefully blank.

In better lighting, the scars marring her cheekbones are more prominent. Flecks of silver against honeyed skin.

"'ello again," Alex says, giving a small wave, strands of his hair falling into his eyes with the movement.

She frowns, crossing her arms defensively in front of her. "Why are you here? Who even let you in?"

"I asked nicely," he explains, "terrible hotel service if you ask me. But as for why I'm here, you wouldn't happen to know who Sidney Trojan is?"

Tisphones lips form a tight line, her stance edging dangerously close to someone expecting a fight. Weight distributed well between her legs. "He's dead isn't he. Someone killed him."

" 'fraid so," Alex nods.

"Who do you work for?" Her eyes scrutinize him, as if waiting for him to strike.

Alex raises both his hands up in the air. "No one. The MP of the precinct where Mr. Trojan lived asked me to take the case on."

She doesn't move. "Earth then? Or some secret division of the SFN?"

It was a popular belief that the SFN held a secret military division. Especially among belters and martians.

"You don't seem surprised to hear he's been murdered," Alex observes, not missing a thing, trying to steer the conversation back on track.

"Lots of people wanted him dead."

Tisiphone must have decided he wasn't a threat. She takes a step closer, waking into the bathroom and grabbing the meager supplies, tossing them into her bag, unbothered by Alex's presence right next to her. He's incredibly aware of the small distance between them as her hands make quick work of packing, ignoring the wine and fruit he'd brought: the small distance between her hands and his thigh.

But he doubts that there's a chance in hell she'll go out with him after today. She has the same determined look on her face Johanna had right as she'd punched him day 1 of hand to hand combat. A woman who doesn't take anyone's shit.

Alex snorts, "mind telling me who wanted him dead?"

"SFN. Earth. Mars. The Children of Prometheus. Park Vader's cronies back on Titan. Maybe even Park himself. Take your pick."

"Why," Alex can't help but ask, standing up as she slings her bag over her shoulder. If he lets her walk out now, he'll likely never set eyes on her again. And she has become his only connection to this man's murder.

He can't just let her go.

"He knew too much," Tisiphone shrugs.

"I can't just let you disappear," Alex tells her, sliding between her and the door. It was a dangerous position to be in. He keeps his hands up, trying to reassure her.

"Whoever killed Ivan is going to be after me too," she states, weighing her options.

"Let me help you."

She laughs humorlessly, "I'm long past help. I’ll only drag you down. And you seem like a nice enough man despite everything."

"Despite being born on earth," Alex guesses. War hadn't touched the system in a hundred years, yet there was a lot of bitterness from the colonies over earth. Over the imagined bountiful resources. The air, breathable unlike in so many other places.

He'd lived in enough places in the system to know that it was hard living in every corner of the solarium federation.

"Good bye Alex." Her dark eyes hold his gaze, waiting for Alex to step aside. He isn't sure how long her patience will last.

"If you leave the moon now," Alex threatens, "I'll have no choice but to find you suspect under the circumstances."

Tisiphone glares at him, "are you an officer? Am I under arrest?"

"No."

"Then you have no jurisdiction," she counters.

"But I was able to find you. I'm the only person who could've made that connection." Her shoes had given her away. Too distinctive for anyone trying to hide out, Alex notes. "Everyone else would've written you off. You played the part of a tired commuter perfectly. Your face isn't visible enough for facial recognition. And the timing is wrong."

"So you have to know I didn't kill him," Tisiphone observes.

"I do." Alex nods. "And I also know that you came here for a reason. I'm willing to bet it's why Ivan is dead now. Help me catch his killer and get some people off your back."

“Why do you care so much about him? He’s just another nameless belter to you people.”

He shakes his head, “because a man’s dead. He deserves justice.”

"How do I know I can trust you," Tisiphone asks, her knuckles relaxing their grip on her bag.

"I could've arrived here with the MP," Alex states, "but I'm here all on my own. Because I believe you're innocent."

She sighs. "Alright. I'll stay. But only for another twenty four hours. That's all I can give you."

He can work with that.

"Okay now let's get out of here. If I can waltz right in so can whoever killed Trojan."

"Ivan," Tisiphone corrects. "His name was Ivan Schlossberg."

"And is Tisiphone your real name," Alex asks.

She doesn't meet his eyes.

** ** ch 4

His hotel room is on the top floor. A half circle window looks out into the expanse. The grey panorama, flattened by robots, is broken up by the tops of other bloc, jutting out of the landscape like hills. The sun is the only recognizable feature in the sky. All the other stars and planets are too distant to be visible.

But Alex has the map of the system imprinted into the backs of his eyes. He could tell where earth and mars fall, navigating by stars like explorers of old, even with the slight changes that arise depending on where you were in the system.

Tisiphone looks out into space, eyes full of stars, as Alex interrogates her.

"Why would the UN or Mars be after Ivan?"

"I already told you," she responds evenly, her gaze still fixed on outer space, a melancholic quality that held none of the wonder people usually had when staring into the stars, "he knew too much."

"About what," Alex presses. Earlier she had named all the major players in politics. That which all SFN members despised because it made doing their job a nightmare of red tape.

Tisiphone looks over at him, turning her whole head towards him. "He was involved with the children of prometheus. Selling information. And Park doesn't like when his people decide to leave him."

It didn't take a genius to know what kind of information would be of value to the children of prometheus. "And your mutual friend."

She swallows thickly before answering. "Told me to find Ivan. That he could help me. I don't know anything more than that. Ivan was going to leave the moon with me and explain this later."

Alex doesn't believe that for a second. Tisiphone wouldn't have left so easily that morning if Ivan hadn't given her something. But he also knows when to let things go. "And why would they also be after you?" The usual targets for the children of prometheus were high ranking UN members or members of the Martian Presidium: the operating companies on the belt that treated their workers as expendable.

Tisiphone was none of those.

She takes a seat on Alex's current bed, her knuckles white as she grips the covers, studying the much more pleasant purple carpet. Not as matted or stained as the one in her room.

Her now shoeless feet revealing mismatched socks.

"I saw something I shouldn't have seen." She bites her lip as her eyes water. Alex forces himself not to look away, wanting to give her privacy. "Someone killed my friend and covered it up. And now they want to kill me."

He takes a step towards her, kneeling down in front of her seated figure, "I'm going to help you."

"You can't help me." Tisiphone shakes her head, looking straight at him, "you can only buy me time."

She flips through the stations as Alex combs through the flight records once more. He's isn't looking for random thugs. If this is a high profiled cover up the way she is alleging, then he needs to find a slicker cover.

He checks for any terrans that've landed here in the last few days. Any native mooners with no permanent address on record: the types of people that would easily fly under the recons. The least likely to be scrutinized.

Alex finds three profiles that fit the description. Two had arrived together under the IDBs Gemma and Nick Ryan. Siblings on vacation from earth.

They were passingly related, the same brown coloring. But Alex's searching gaze found no similar features. The bone structure was all wrong. Gemma's strong, squared. While Nick had a delicateness to his features that was absent in Gemma's.

They had the look of UN division operatives. A learned blankness that helped them slip from memory.

The third was on a flight from Ceres. An older asian man: Hugh Shen. There was no way he was born on the moon and had no records of living here. Alex knew most people born on the moon didn't chance leaving.

Opening for new immigrants were few and far between.

Then there was an oily quality that reminded him of many UN cogs that surrounded his mother like gnats.

In order to be sure that they are division members, Alex'll have to go to the scene of the crime. He knows the UN’s playbook. The methods that division uses. Growing up around his mother, he couldn't not have learned something.

Though Penelope Turner was an idealist, she was willing to do what was necessary to get the job done. It's why she was such an effective politician.

He coms Major Moss, letting her know he'll need access to Ivan's hab.

"Stay here," he tells Tisiphone. "Help yourself to anything I've got."

"Anything," she asks archly, "because I could run a bath. Never had one of those."

"Then by all means," he shrugs. The water bill was bound to burn a hole in his pocket, but going through life without knowing the laziness that baths inspired was no life at all.

She rolls her eyes, shamelessly combing through Alex's meager possessions As meager as hers really. Though he didn't have the excuse of being in hiding.

Alex takes the plasma charges with him.

Major Moss, along with another woman of medium build and asian descent, meets him at the entrance to bloc 571, the white paint having long since peeled off the metal walls. The orange lights flickered, needing replacement, as he walks beside her into bloc 571. He can hear the pressure seals around the door, as it slides open, letting them inside.

While the oldest blocs on this side of the moon, their shortcomings in cramped corridors were nothing compared to the space of the older habs.

Unlike Tranquility base, and the rest of the blocs on the moon, the lights inside bloc 571 were LED and white, the costliest to maintain. A knot of tension eased up in Alex's shoulders. His mind, despite the years in space, always unconsciously yearned for earth's natural light.

"This is officer Cong Xi," Major Moss says blandly, "she'll be taking you through all our available evidence. We're receiving pressure to wrap things up as quickly as possible. There are lots of people who want to move into a hub as spacious as this."

Alex snorts. That's what they cared about.

Cong nods, smiling warmly at him as she drinks coffee from her hot pink tumbler. "Nice to meet you Alex Turner."

Which meant she'd been briefed and knew all about him. There was probably a non-SFN version of his file on her com as they spoke.

Alex had never gotten the chance to read his file after the trail. His dishonorable discharge had left him without any credentials to ask for his file without heavy redaction if he got any response at all. He'd have asked his parents if he hadn't been a coward and taken the first ship to Vesta, hell bent on drinking himself to death.

"Likewise," he responds, realizing he's waited a beat too long to respond.

With that said, the Major turns on her heel, and leaves.

"Shall we," Cong asks him, waiting for him to follow. How did such a pleasant person end up working for the MP? Had to be an idealist. Or hadn't been working for long.

He nods.

Alex takes in the bloc.

The floors dull from nearly four centuries of feet walking over it. Not a scrap of white paint left. But the walls are covered with green plexiglass, an attempt to make up for the lack of actual greenery that hadn't been planned for in old models. Even Pallas had some weeds growing among the tangle of wires.

Each door is painted a different color, giving the neighborhood character. Ivan's hab is red, with a pattern of florals overlaid.

Officer Cong hands him shoe covers and a pair of gloves, "standard procedure," she tells him with a tinge of apologies interwoven in her voice, before she unlocks the door, letting them both inside.

Like most crime scenes, the place is covered with tape and plastic to preserve the integrity. But Alex can see the coziness that Ivan Schlossberg had built inside his hab. A glass top table with mismatched but colorful plastic chairs. Books covering a side table ranging from subjects like "Bloom: a guide to space plant maintenance," to "Catching Fire."

His desk is covered with bits of computer parts. Motherboards and processor chips. Different size screens, some with cracks.

This was the picture of a man who believed himself to be safe. He wasn't planning on running at the drop of a dime. So how had they found him?

Tisiphone had entered first.

Why not kill them both at once?

Or had they believed them both to be inside and cursed themselves when they realized the girl had gotten away?

As Alex looks about the room, noting no signs of struggle, Officer Cong studies him. Her gaze curious.

The mess of computer equipment makes Alex guess that Ivan tinkered with it to communicate with whatever group he was working with, likely using it to hack information from earth and mars. The rudimentary nature of his devices would have confused the much more advanced systems Earth relied on, massive data banks in the tundra chugging along. Ivan would've also had the flexibility of pulling the system apart and rebuilding it with different bits of code each time.

A waste of time, unless you were an old man with lots of time on your hands.

His collection of parts would've been written off as eccentricity.

"You can ask," Alex finally says, when he gets tired of the awkward silence.

"Are you really the mutineer?"

It was much better than being asked if he was that traitor. Particularly bitter belters had taken the liberty of making his days hell in the beginning, knowing he wasn't about to go get help from the SFN.

He nods, looking back at the door. Division wasn't above using chemical weapons. The seals on older habs built with the care of spaceships, no one outside this hab would've noticed. "The one and only," he finally says.

While there were lots of people who had problems with the SFN, it generally wasn't seen among rank and file members.

Cong hums, slurping her coffee.

Alex peels back the plastic over a particularly large pile of electronics, his eyes searching for something small, like a computer chip or drive that would be overlooked to the untrained eye. Toxic gases needn't be in large doses to pack a punch.

"I remember the trial on the net," she comments, "it was all my parents could talk about. My whole family really . . ."

A glint of copper catches his eye. Alex keeps his face neutral, letting Cong ramble on as he plays at looking at the body outline on the couch, as if he could magically find a guilty dust bunny, slipping the casing into his hand for later.

"-guess I was too young to care about that. Too caught up with boys and the latest hairstyles."

Alex nods, trying to pay attention. But with that casing, he's sure it was division. Certain mixtures created the same symptoms in the body as a heart attack. Given his age, it created the perfect cover.

But why come in and stab him after?

Who were they trying to frame-

They were after Tisiphone.

She had led them to Ivan, Alex's thoughts come together, each piece falling into place. They had watched her since she arrived. Which meant they knew she was headed to the moon, hence the two early dispatched division agents, purposely waiting for her to leave before killing Ivan, making sure she'd be the only suspect.

But their plan had gone to the pits.

They hadn't planned on Major Moss trying to burry the case. Or that Alex would be called on.

Instead of an easy frame job, it was a cold case waiting to happen. An MP officer would've just taken Tisiphone in. Assumed that the time of death was off due to some lab error and closed the case. But their plan had gone sideways.

"Find anything," Cong asks him suddenly, having given up trying to chat when it became obvious he wasn't listening. Though why he would make small talk about the event that had sliced his life into two distinct parts, he didn't have the foggiest idea.

Alex shakes his head, "thought the scene might hold a clue." He stands up straight, faking the appearance of disappointment channeling his mother's face when he'd come home with an F. "Whatever crime boss hired the hit must've hired a couple of top notch lads."

"Oh well them," Cong continues, holding up her com for him to read, "Major Moss needs us to come in. Apparently there's been a new development in the homicide."

Alex's chest tightens. God he hopes they haven't found Tisiphone dead. Or arrested her.

No. There's no way. He'd already be under arrest for harboring a criminal. No amount of goodwill would keep him out of prison this time.

Alex had to continue under the impression that she was fine. Because no one else had linked her to this case. No one had any reason to suspect her of anything at all. "Led the way then love."

Cong, like most girls (and some boys) since Alex had turned sixteen, blushes pink, before stepping around him and leading him back to the precinct--and to Major Moss's office.

The division agents who had landed on Tranquility base as siblings named Gemma and Nick, introduce themselves as, "Agents Barnes and Khan." They're already seated in front of Major Moss, only confirming Alex's conclusion.

The capsule in his pocket feels like a block of lead, weighing him down.

There's no way they know he knows.

Except they've been tailing Tisiphone since she landed. They might already know she's sitting in his room.

He needs to get off the moon. Alex had promised Tisiphone he'd keep her safe. And this case had just gotten much bigger than a homicide.

It was the type of cover up that required a neutral party to uncover. A High ranking SFN member that would do the right thing. Unfortunately Alex had learned the hard way that organizations were never as impartial and righteous as they claimed to be.

Bloody hell.

In between two impossible choices, giving Tisiphone up or calling his old mentor Vice Admiral Homme, he wasn't sure which was worse. Would Josh Homme even care?

Or was the UN's influence great enough to buy Homme's cooperation?

"I understand that Major Moss has made the mistake of handing a homicide to a private investigator," Agent Barnes says, smiling brightly as if she hadn't just flung shit at Major Moss, who to her credit, didn't even flinch.

"I'm the private investigator," Alex responds evenly.

"They've just finished informing me," Major Moss interrupts, smoothing down the lapels of her pants suit, "that they've identified the culprit."

Agent Barnes nods, then proceeds to do the very Earth thing of pulling out an actual paper file from a jacket and displaying it on the desk. "A career criminal from Titan named Tisiphone Velasquez. We believe her employer to be some drug lord that Mr Trojan was a long time customer of. When he got clean and moved to the moon, well. . ." Barnes trails off leaving a dramatic pause before clearing his throat, "Titian didn't forget his debts."

Ivan's hab was not the home of a drug user. Or a recovering drug user. He'd never been to Titan, to the city under the ocean, but he knew enough about drug lords to know that they had more to deal with than a customer with lots of debts on a colony as secure as the moon.

But Alex can see Major Moss eat up the story, her eyes gazing over as there's one less problem for her to deal with.

"Well Mr. Turner," Major Moss turns to him, "It looks like your services are no longer needed. I'll wire you the payment promptly. Meanwhile I'll circulate the perpetrators photo and have my officers be on the lookout."

"We will be taking custody of Miss Velasquez," Agent Barnes interrupts, "she has insider knowledge of a crime ring we have been monitoring for years."

"Of course," Major Moss responds, already typing out the paperwork.

He has to get off the base. He has to take Tisiphone far from here.

Alex turns to leave, reaching the door before he hears Agent Barnes mutter pointedly under her breath, "It's a wonder Ambassador Turner hasn't resigned out of shame. No clue how he can show his face in public."

Agent Khan coughs to hide a snigger.

A muscle in his jaw twitches. It's bait. And an obvious one at that. He has more than a few scars to prove how stupid responding to it would be, but they did just insult his mother.

"What did you just say," Alex asks through clenched teeth, not turning back to look at them, robbing them of the satisfaction. Mentally, he counts to ten.

He's not going to give them an excuse to place him under arrest.

Tisiphone is counting on him.

The fact that they're baiting him instead of just following him back to the hotel room is a good sign they don't know he's hiding Tisiphone. He tries to concentrate on the and not the sound of blood rushing in his ears.

Tisiphone.

Her petite figure sitting on his bed, scrutinizing everything with an arched brow. The look in her eyes as she'd stared with a refugee's longing for their ancestral home at the image of earth, the green returning to the land after hundreds of long reclamation projects initiated by the UN.

"Nothing to trouble yourself with Alexander Turner," Agent Barnes replies patronizingly, "There is no further use for your services here."

Alex clenches his jaw, and walks out the door.

He lights a cigarette as he makes his way through the dim corridors, the orange fading into scarlet, stopping only to pick up supplies he imagines needing as they travel to space together. Not all at the same store.

Alex will have to get everything out of her, if he's going to throw in his lot with her and hope they get to the bottom of the conspiracy before they're arrested and killed. Or just killed.

What could be bad enough that the UN felt it necessary to send division agents after a woman?

The problem is the IDB has been made.

He's going to have to hope she can get another one quickly. Tisiphone, whose name is more than likely not Tisiphone as all, wouldn't have survived this long is she was stupid.

Fuck.

He really should just turn her in. Or give her a heads up and be on his way. Alex could be on Pallas in four weeks, having the most questionable weed in the system, laced with the hell knows what. Take a case every now and then. Finally make his way out to Titan.

Logan had been his favorite western growing up. Right after The magnificent Seven. He'd made Matt have stand offs against him for days after seeing it, pretending he could manipulate metal. And Titan was the new wild west of space. And still people flocked out to carve their little piece of real estate.

Humanity is ever expanding.

Alex has to press the lift button twice, cursing and lighting another cigarette when the lift's lighting system dies as he ascends up, connecting with Tranquility's passageways.

More than once, he has to stop himself from glancing over his shoulder, sure he'll see an Agent following him. Hugh Shen had been absent from their little meeting. But that didn't mean he wasn't still skulking about.

Even the air changes from the corridors to the base. It's drastic compared to Ceres where the air quality is shit everywhere you go. The base has crisp clean air that didn't leave you all cotton mouthed for the wrong reasons.

From there it's easy enough to head to his room. Alex is already flicking through the net, looking for tickets to the belt. Or maybe they should go to Callisto. It was famous for being a no extradition zone: refusing to acknowledge any authority other than theirs and SFN's by extension. The relative safety was tempting, but he couldn't plan until Tisiphone told him everything she knew.

Alex wasn't stupid enough to think she wasn't holding something back. Her earlier explanation had been as vague as she could manage given the circumstances. He had no clue who her friend was. What she had seen other than a wrongful death.

There had to be a reason behind the coverup after all.

No government went around coverup murder for no reason. It just wasn't economical.

"You have to tell me everything you know," Alex tells Tisiphone in what he hopes is a commanding voice, as he tosses his bags on the bed, plopping down. His only shortcoming as a commander had been the complete and utter lack of confidence he had when giving orders. "Division has just shown up and thrown you under the bus."

Tisiphone's hair hangs down, damp as she listlessly scrolls through the catalogue of music offered by the hotel. She flinches at his words. "I should've left when I had the chance," she tells him harshly, uncurling from the settee and moving to grab her things. She jams her feet into her boots in one swift motion, clearly having been ready to make a run for it at a moment's notice.

"You're right," Alex tries, taking out the gas casing, ensuring the glint of metal catches her eyes. "It's a coverup."

"Obviously," Tisiphone scowls.

"I'm sure they've circulated your IDB by now," he continues, "they wanted to frame you for Ivan's death. I want to know what you saw so I can help you."

"Why so they can kill you as well," Tisiphone shakes her head, "No. . .no."

"What's so important that Division would risk breaking the treaty of Schiaparelli for," Alex asks, rubbing his temples. He wasn't a politician. The inner workings of government fell to the wayside of his thoughts.

There had been no major battles fought in a hundred years but relations between colonies were always fraught with tension over resources. Those skirmishes were usually fought in the Solarium Federations regulatory body, but Alex wasn't naive enough to discount the darker talk of division--their tendency to enhanced interrogation.

"Why do you want to help me so badly," Tisiphone counters, hands on her hip, glaring down at him as if he was the reason that Division had found her at all.

"Someone should," Alex shrugs, peering up at her. The line of her body fell naturally into a defensive stance, something that could only be so natural if she'd started training when she was very young. Tisiphone wasn't an innocent civilian, but she still didn't deserve to be disposed of. "And if I don't, they'll probably kill you and throw your body in some incinerator."

"Or they'll kill us both," Tisiphone replies archly.

"I'm offering you my help if you want it."

She peers down her nose at him, her lips pressed into a flat line, the slim line of her jaw fitting in perfectly with her feline features: a cat deciding if batting the toy was worth it. Turning on her heel, stepping into the bathroom, Tisiphone orders him to, "strip."

Smart girl.

It doesn't keep the burn from making its way up his neck as she turns the refresher, the low static drowning out any background noise as she takes a seat inside the fogged glass.

Alex kicks off his boots, gratefully that he'd actually kept up with his fitness all these years as he pulls his shirt off. There's still bruising in the crook of his elbow. He doubts she misses it as she stares up at him. It's a rush of relief when he notices the scarlet on her cheeks. This is embarrassing for both of them then, as he unbuttons his trousers, before taking a seat in front of her.

"Division blew up my crew." She starts with, staring at a spot behind him, her eyes welling up with tears. "They launched a missile and it tore their ship apart." She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, shaking her head, "I'm sorry I just. . .let me start over."

"It's okay."

"Shut up Alex and let me tell this in a way that makes sense." She swallows thickly. Taking a deep breathe during which she closes her eyes before continuing. "My name is Vera Albaicin. I'm an agent of the Guoanbu. Sixty eight sols ago my crew was handpicked to participate in an interplanetary task force with the UN. It was supposed to be an easy retrieval mission. We met up with the other crew. Everything was normal."

T-Vera closes her eyes, her hands closed tightly by her sides, trying to suppress the shiver that runs down her spine. Alex wants to offer comfort, but he isn't sure there is anything he can do to make things better in this situation.

"I took an EMU suit to-it was a strange ship. More like a capsule or probe. I had just made contact when my ship was hit." She shakes her head, a desperation in her eyes at the helplessness she must keep on feeling. Not having been able to do anything to save her crew. "Space. They died in seconds. The thing is. . .the only people who would've known about the mission were the UN and MPC. Earth and mars."

Alex nods, trying to probe her as gently as possible because there is still one unanswered question, "how did you know to find Ivan."

The UN and MPC must have decided that the knowledge was better off lost after having sent a retrieval team. Something they didn't want anyone to know about it. That fact that mars and earth had cooperated at all was throwing Alex off. Weapons would make sense if it was just mars or earth. But together?

Vera shakes her head slowly, her gaze meeting his, an intense anger to their depth he had not seen before. She was digging because she was fucking mad. This was a woman seeking justice. "I can't."

"Vera," Alex utters, unable to look away, trying her real name out on his tongue. "My name is Alexander Turner. I'm kind of famous for breaking the law," he finished with a self deprecating smile.

Usually, the last thing he wanted a potential date to know was his past.

Her eyes widen, her whole body freezing up as she takes in the new information, pursing her lips in an attempt to suppress a telling gasp. But instead of recoiling in disgust as he expects her to, Vera reaches for her neck, revealing a necklace obscured by her hoodie. It's a cheap metal thing that must be of sentimental value.

She doesn't stop there, thumbing the ring at the end of the chain before meeting his gaze once more. This time there's no hard glint to her cognac eyes, but a woman at last having caught on to a life preserver. "Julian-Captain Casablancas told me to find Ivan. Trust no one-trust no one but Alex Turner," Vera admits, unable to hold his gaze. "He must have known what was coming."

It's a ring he recognizes well, a twin to his own commander ring. The classic exploration insignia: the atom. Every detail identical for Julian and Alex had received their rank at the same ceremony, only Julian had been eight years older. Already the man Alex wanted to be: wanted to be with. The man had inspired camaraderie the way a good leader should, and clearly he had managed it in a martian girl as well if she had come all this way on his word alone.

"Can I," he motions, aware of the closing distance between them. Between him and Vera. Vera. He had to get his head around that one. Same woman, different name.

No. Not the same woman.

This woman was a martian secret intelligence agent. Not some naive little girl.

She nods, closing her fist around the ring before yanking the chain in a quick motion. It snaps off. The sound like the hull of a ship nearing the end of its lifetime, creaking. Then drops the ring into his outstretched palm.

Without Alex having to prompt this time, still caught up in seeing Julian's ring, still warm from Vera's body heat, in his hand. Julian hadn't responded to Alex's messages. He'd assumed it was because of Alex's past, but now he was left to wonder if Julian had wanted to protect him by keeping away from him. Keeping whatever he'd gotten caught up in that had killed him away from Alex. Vera adds, "I was confused why he'd told me that, given me his ring as I got into the EMU suit but. . .Ivan told me that he was just the messenger. He'd worked for so many sides not asking questions. Earth, Solarium, Mars. They were all the same to him. So he decided that the children of prometheus had a point and got in contact with them. Relaid information. Ivan-he was going to tell me more."

But he'd died.

Vera looks at him meaningfully, "but he did manage to give me the coordinates that he was given by his CoP contact. In case he ever needed a safe house or extraction."

"He never-," Alex begins to ask, not taking his eyes off the ring. In his hand was proof that Julian had been killed.

"He never met his contact," Vera confirms. "But they're on Callisto. Some hippie hub." She rolls her eyes and what a martian thing to do. Look down on every colony not hell bent on terraforming.

Alex turns his gaze on her once more, seeing her in a different light for the first time. Trying to spot what made her a martian. As if he could spot in vitro augmentation just by looking her over.

But all he saw was a petite woman with a hollowness under her eyes. Her full lips pressed into a grim line. Hair slowly drying into waves, catching the light like oil on water. Despite Alex's new information about Vera, he was no less drawn to her.

There was no sadistic edge that spoke of oprichnik operatives who the Martian People's council refused to acknowledge existed despite all the mounting evidence about their methods.

His gut was telling him that Vera was telling the truth.

"One thing though," Alex points out, taking off his own ring for the first time since he'd first received command rank, a command long since stripped from him, and sliding Julian's ring on his finger in its place as he stands up. His mind was made up. He was going to help Vera uncover this conspiracy. Clear Julian and Vera's name. And maybe, just maybe, reclaim some respect on his name.

"What?"

"You said earth and mars sent you," he says gently, having encountered enough martians to know how loyal to their colony they were otherwise known as having bought into the propaganda, "but Division killed your crew.. ."

"Yes," Vera nods, tapping her foot on the floor.

"Then wouldn't both earth and mars have sent the missile that killed your crew? Or wouldn't have mars already used this as an excuse to advance their agenda?"

"No," she supplies, refusing to even contemplate the idea that Mars would've been complicit in such an act. "The Guoanbu wouldn't have killed their own. We're-they're not like that."

“Vera," he sighs, "there's nastiness under every corner, no matter how nice everything is on top you know."

She shakes her head again, averting her gaze, There wasn't much to look at on the walls, but she was making due.

"Let's just find ya another IDB and get to Callisto-"

There's a knock at the door.

Alex and Vera trade wide eyed looks, having taken the plunge off the same cliff with nothing but a string of brand new fucking trust between them. A dead man's word to go on.

Fucking hell.

Matt and Nick flank each side of the room's door. Nick's stone face offsets the mixture of parental concern Matt's features contain, sighing at Alex's appearance, sticking his head out the door. Vera hiding next to the door, alert to every word.

He has to wonder how good her hearing is. Martian's always messed with embryos biology, designing the next generation to be fitter. Could she hear down the hall? What the people in the next room were saying?

Matt steps forward, "jesus fuck mate," he shakes his head. "Can't respond to a bloody com now Alex."

"I told you I got a job," he protests, trying to remember if that was true. His friends had fallen to the bottom of his priorities quickly. Alex had a habit of self absorption with whatever obsession came his way. It had made him a terrific ensign, practicing the same maneuver for hours until he could do it with his eyes closed.

"No," Nick corrects, not bothering to move the curls out of his face, watching him carefully, "you didn't."

Alex sighs, but doesn't budge. They mustn't see Vera. Soon her face will be plastered all over the net as a manhunt begins. Her IDB must already be flagged for travel.

He had to make his rightfully concerned friends go away and quickly.

"Al," Matt levels with him, "I asked you to be here because you might as well be my brother. I knew when I did that it would mean coming back to the moon. That it would bring up a load of shit for you."

"We're worried about you mate," Nick explains. "You're still here. You won't talk to any of us."

" 'm fine," Alex mumbles, unable to hold eye contact with either of his friends. He looks at his shoes as he realizes how unfair he's been to them both in the last two days.

This trip was supposed to be about Matt.

He shouldn't be here worried that Alex finally went off the rails.

"Alex," Matt utters, placing his hand on the door frame, leaning in close to Alex. "You know you can talk to me. I don't care what you did or why."

"Really," Alex tries, because as much as he'd like to have this long overdue discussion, finally get to explain why--no one had ever asked him why, they'd just condemned his actions as w r o n g--he has to get Vera off the moon. "I'm fine. Just been in me head."

"That's what I'm worried about," Matt responds, eyes locked onto his, as if Alex could disappear at any moment. "You've always been in your head too much Al. And it didn't matter when I knew you were looking after yourself. Had me and the lads with you but-Alex you looked like utter shit back in Vesta last time I saw you, hopped up on who knows what."

Alex swears internally. They really knew when to pick the worst moments. He was actually doing good. "I know. . .," he tries to find the words that don't require him to have an emotional breakdown in Tranquility Hotel, aware Vera's listening in, "it's been rough. Some days worse than others but Matthew," he whines, "I really am good."

"For how long though," Nick counters, crossing his arms against his chest. It was a good point but Alex really hadn't been in the dark lonely place in months. Maybe closer to a year now. Progress.

Something about waking up missing shoes and jammed into the seediest by corners of an asteroid had lit a fire under his arse about moving on.

He hadn't even hit the agents earlier. They would've deserved it but who gives a shit. Alex will always be a mutineer but at least his hands were clean. His conscience is a white pearl like a meditating bodhisattva.

"Can we just go inside and talk man," Matt pleads, his shoulder resting against the door, clearly seconds away from shoving his way in.

Guilt wells up in his mouth. Despite having every reason to say no, Alex wants to say yes, the word making its way to the tip of his tongue at Matt's insistence.

It was Matt and he was Alex and he couldn't just deny him like this after everything.

Terrans were only allowed one child.

The law didn't keep Matt from being his brother any less.

"I can't," Alex sighs. "I just-you've given me a lot to think about."

Matt rolls his eyes, hurt flashing through his features as he takes a step back, "bullshit."

"Just open up the damn door Alexander," Nick tries, clearly having had it with trying to do things the nice way, realizing Alex wasn't going to budge on his own. "We're ya friends."

"It's been six years Alex," Matt added. "I thought you'd want to talk by now."

Alex shakes his head, "it's not always a straight line."

"Let's have this conversation inside," Nick insists, "who knows when you'll be around next Al. And now Matt has a command. . ."

Matt shoves his way in.

Alex had forgotten how hot headed he could be. The foil to his cool and calm temperament: translating Alex's lit to others. Not that Alex had much trouble verbalizing, necessity being the mother invention. He no longer took hours to get a sentence out of his mouth.

"Matt!"

"Don't Matt me Al," Matt retorts spying Vera in seconds, who's already fallen into a defensive stance.

Matt brings a hand to his face, pinching his nose bridge, before heavily sighing, "You've got to be kidding me Al. You're hiding a murderer now."

"She's no-"

"I didn't kill anyone," she tries, folding into herself, trying to appear smaller and innocent than she actually is. Vera tries to play at being Tisiphone once more. "It's all a misunderstanding!"

"Then turn yourself in," Nick challenges, closing the door behind him.

"Al," Matt says, placing his hands on Alex's shoulders, "what the hell are you thinking mate! They're going to lock you up for this and not even-"

"Matt," he interrupts, "trust me. I'd love to have a nice long chat but things have gotten. . .complicated and-it's safer if ya don't know. Just. . .trust me."

Matt stares back at him, mouth drawn. An entire childhood together on earth, their toes digging into the soil, tracking mud all over the floors. Later a shared adolescence, their accents charming the girls and boys at school, Matt doing all the talking and never leaving a painfully shy Alex behind.

He nods. "You better come back because we're having this talk even if I have to go visit you in prison."

"There are things far worse than prison," Vera unhelpfully points out, tugging on her jacket over her hoodie, the collar lined with actual animal fur. Given the martian rationing system, it was an untold luxury for Vera to own a leather jacket with fur at all. "I'd even take death over enhanced interrogation."

She pretends to tremble with fear, "anything but gravity."

Alex snorts in spite of the dark subject matter. "Not helping."

Ignoring the other two men in the room, Vera hands Alex one of the spare IDB's he'd seen in her bag earlier. Had it really been only hours ago? "Here's your IDB now. Alexander Collins. Born on Pallas. Married to Morgana Collins," she points at herself, already dispatching the old IDB off her wrist and throwing it in her bag. "Came to the moon to get married. Off to Callisto to make a living," she explains calmly.

"Short and sweet," Alex notes, looking down at his own wrist, the IDB a second skin. He hadn't taken it off since he'd left earth. Many colonies like Callisto chose to implant the ID chip.

It was the key to getting on any ship. His passport and last link to earth. His last hope at ever stepping foot on the big blue planet again, however slim.

Visas for foreigners pretty much nonexistent.

Nick hands him a swiss army laser, "I implanted mine." It's news to Alex who hadn't even noticed, Nick having always been a bit chilly, wearing long sleeves year round. " 's nice actually."

Matt dramatically covers his eyes.

Alex slices through the metal, leaving a band of unblemished creamy skin.

It doesn't last long, as Vera easily replaces it.

"You should keep it," she tells him, patting his arm like a parent half heartedly consoling their child after a pet fish dies. "We are planning on fixing things."

"Yeah," Alex answers, running his fingers over the band. He already felt less confident without it.

[bimswritings]

This Is Our Way

Ch.1

Summary: What happens when you make the mistake of thinking you can steel from a Mandalorian? You land yourself and job and a plethora of adventures and emotion you could never even dream of.  The question is; where will those emotions lead.

Warnings: Typical canon violence, NSFW implications and scenes later on

You can also read it on my Ao3 account.

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Clouds. Dark, impenetrable, depressing grey clouds are what greet you as soon as your eyes open, just like they have every day for years during your existence on the scrappy planet of  Corellia. Home to the most desperate and cruel criminals, along with the enslaved and weak civilians and captives. All mixed in with your average day citizen trying to get by.

A great place to live.

The sound of tie-fighters overhead is what first woke you, screaming as they made their morning flight overhead, acting as an ever present reminder of the Empire's presence and signaling the start of your day. Bones and joints crack in sync as you push yourself up, rubbing your eyes and crawling from the busted old weapons crate that acted as a poor supplement for a bed. Its lid laid discarded to the side, allowing the cool night air of one of the only dry nights of the month to flow in while you slept. The hard metal lining was barely tolerable, even when padded with the few scraps of fabric you had managed to snag over the years, but it was sturdy and the lid provided great protection from the ever present rain on the overcast planet.

Taking care not to trip while climbing from the enclosed space, you stumble out onto the main section of the roof and stare over the city as you stretch, trying not to cringe as certain bones popped back into place painfully. It wasn’t a pretty sight, and not even the fresh breeze that floated in from the sea could make it any more appealing.

Boring, industrial buildings stretched as far as the eye could see in varying colors of black and steel, hardly standing out against the horizon of equally dull colors only punctuated by the occasional crism Empire flag. In the middle of it all was the only decently maintained and sizable buildings on the planet, where the majority of ships for the Empire were produced. It was thanks to the presence of that one building that there was even an economy here, keeping it from turning into a more dreary and wet version of Tatooine, the outlandish world it was. The sight was enough to make your stomach churn, but had nothing on the aching pain that radiated from the organ and had you mind wondering when you had eaten last. Three, four days maybe? It didn’t matter. However long it was, the meager scraps you had managed to find behind the restaurant district of the wealthy were but a distant memory. It was this very hunger that drove you from your safe space, forcing you to climb down the pipes lining the outside of the building you resided on.

The metal creaked and groaned in protest under your weight, but you didn’t give it a second though, knowing there was nothing to worry about. You had been climbing along these fixtures for years, nimble hands and feet finding the smallest of purchases as you move along with ease.

When the ground was close enough you dropped, rolling through the impact to your feet and taking shelter behind an abandoned stall as you momentarily stumbled, vision swimming and black dots dancing before you. Force, you really need to get something to eat soon. Rainwater could only fill your stomach for so long before it lost its abilities to hold you over.

Peering around the corner, your eyes scanned the narrow alleyway, looking for any sign of stormtroopers or other rough characters that would cause trouble. You were never much of a fighter, but today especially was a day you were feeling particularly weak.

‘Alright. All I need to do is slip out, grab a couple of credits, and get back. It should be fine as long as I don’t run into-’

“Well well well. Look what we have here.” Leon’s voice spoke from behind, making you cringe and berate yourself for not being more careful. This was the last thing you needed to deal with, and Leon’s sickly smooth voice only served to grate on your nerves more as you turned to face him and his three lackeys, identifying them as Sho, Everett, and Corin.None as dangerous, but all as bad tempered as their leader.

Glacial blue eyes stared from pale skin beneath his shock of blond hair, a combo that drew ladies like flies to him. Pair that with pearly white teeth and he could have been a poster boy for some prep school on Coruscant. If not for the tattooed arms and green vest that held the insignia of a ranicore tooth, marking him as one of Sozin’s many street enforcers. His kind was the one you hated most. Cocky guys who thought that just because they were someone in some gang they had power over everyone else, not giving a second thought to those they hurt, be it man, women, or child. As long as they got a nice cut at the end of the day they were fine. Despite your hate for them, by all means joining a gang was the best way to survive here. It promised food, shelter, and constant work. All you had to do was give up your own self respect and humanity in return.

“The little Jawa had finally come out from her fortress. Tell me,” He smirked as the others formed a loose circle around you, effectively caging you in. “Get anything good lately.”

You wanted to spit at him, slap that stupid smirk off his face and leave him to go crying back to his boss. But you didn’t. Instead, you took a more casual, defensive stance, ready to get away the moment you had the chance. Slapping a fake smile on your face, you cocked an eyebrow in mock teasing.

“Please. If I had anything of interest I’m sure you of all people would know.” You were getting more nervous now, keenly aware of how close Sho was getting to your current position. Far too close for your liking.

“And with the patrols increased and punishments cracking down, things have gotten harder.''

“True, but I just never know what those sticky fingers of yours may manage to pick up. Your skill has a reputation after all.” His eyes skimmed over your body, not even trying to hide the way he was practically undressing you. The slimy bastard had been pining after you for years, ever since he had watched you lift a number of things from a trooper when you were both just young teenagers. He claimed it was for your skills but it didn’t take a genius to see he was looking for something more. “Maybe you could give me a live demonstration some time.”

And there it was.

You said nothing, only pushing yourself further against the cool metal of the wall behind you in an attempt to create some sort of distance in between you. Your stomach, the traitor it was, decided that it would be the best time to voice its own opinion, letting out a loud growl of protest that didn't go unheard.

Leon’s face took on a mask of concern and sympathy, and you might have fallen for it had you not known any better. His tone took on a softer, more whispery tone, like he was speaking to a stray feline. Not that far off if you thought about it.

“You look hungry. Why don’t you come back with me. I can get everything squared away with Sozin, and I promise, I’ll take real good care of you.”

His hand extended out in invitation, strong fingers that had ended the lives of so many gently relaxed, the other crossing behind his back in a mock gentleman pose, as if he even knew what being a decent guy even started with.

“C’mon. Think about it. No more empty stomachs or fighting for every scrap. You’d even have a nice bed to lay in at the end of the day. No more sleeping on the filthy streets.”

Scoffing, you summoned the last of your confidence, brushing past him and ignoring his invitation. “I’d rather take the streets than your blood soaked sheets any day.”

That should have been it, and it would have been for anyone else on just a code of respect among those here. But Leon wasn’t known for taking no for an answer. Before you could even make it  three steps his hand closed on your elbow, bringing you back closer to him. Despite all you twisting and pulling, his superior strength kept you close, breath fanning your skin as he spoke.

“Listen here, I’ve been more than kind in my advances. A saint some may even say, so you’re not going to walk away from me, understand? No your going to come back and-”

“Hey!” A shout from the end of the alleyway interrupted him, drawing all your attention as the squadron of storm troopers rounded the corner to the alley, falling in line behind their captain.”You there! What’s going on?”

At the sight of the local law enforcement and their blasters, Leon’s grip loosened a fraction. Just the smallest amount really, but enough for you to be able to slip from his grip and between Sho and Corin before they could stop you. You ignored the shouting of the officer, sprinting in the opposite direction and around the corner into the main streets of Corellia.

‘Good luck trying to find me now.’ You smirked, pulling your hood up to conceal your face as you effortlessly blended into the crowd, becoming just one of the thousands of faces that traveled through as you continued on your way. Now it was time for the real work to begin.

Just as with the seasons, your own hunting grounds changed, ever rotating through the different sectors in order to keep law enforcement off your tail. It was one of the first lessons you had ever learned; never hunt in the same spot for more than a few weeks.

Today was a fresh start in the port district, leaving an abundance of new and unaware targets. It was a popular place for travelers as well, who were especially naive, but even with that you knew today would be a challenge. It hadn’t been a lie when you told Leon that the troopers were cracking down. More patrols and increased severity of punishments had started to begin in order to ‘cut down the crime’, as your senator put it. Fat chance of that though, as one could argue that Corellia ran on crime. Still, the effort put forth was really putting the pressure on smaller people like you, who were just trying to survive, not to mention the street vendors and shop owners had installed their own new security measures in place, leading to an unfavorable combo that led to your current weak and hungry state. So you were here, looking for some oblivious fool to cop a few credits off from your perch just outside the mechanics.

As your eyes scanned the crowd, looking for visible money holders or those with liftable jewelry and other items, you saw him. He was hard to miss actually. The beskar he wore from head to toe shone proudly even without the light of the sun hidden above, speaking of its own durability and care shown by the owner. Alongside him was a pod, closed, and most likely carrying whatever supplies he had picked up from the market. The brown cape around his shoulders did nothing to hide the gun scross his broad back, nor the dozens of smaller weapons strapped to his person.

He stood tall above the crowd, most parting like water around a stone to avoid him, and it was no wonder. Even you had heard the stories about the Mandalorians. Fierce warriors and fighters who could track their prey to the ends of the galaxy. They were the best bounty hunters and hired guns on the market. You had been witness to more than one lowlife being pulled from their seat in the cantina by his kind, kicking and begging to no avail as they were carried away, dead or alive.

Teeth gnawing on inside of your cheek, you debated with yourself. On one hand, he was a high risk target, undoubtedly being used to these kinds of places and the people who lived here. Stealing from him would earn you a blaster shot to the head if caught, that is, if he were feeling merciful enough not to crush every bone in your body. But then, he was a bounty hunter. They always carried a lot of credits, and ones worth more at that. One swipe from him could set you up for days, if not weeks! He was also the only target you had seen open worth any value the entire day, and you weren’t sure you could go much longer without food.

You debated with yourself, going back and forth as you watched him grow closer to where you sat. If you didn’t make a decision soon you would lose your chance all together.

As if detecting your hesitance, your body made the decision for you, loosening another growl from its depths, prompting you forward and before you knew it you were on the move. Pulling a small guide book from your pocket, you pretended to be grossly interested in the useless thing, eyes moving to falsely skim the words as you carefully adjusted your path closer to his, threading between the crowd with as much ease as he cut through it.

The moments before were tense, each step leaving you feeling more electrified as adrenaline coursed through your body, only feeding your blind confidence as you counted down.

‘6..5...3..2..1….Now’

You pretended to stumble, tripping on your own feet as naturally as you would walk, veering from your course and bumping into the armored man. You winced slightly as your shoulder made contact with the metal, which made your grunt of pain that much more believable and distracting while your hands got to work. Like all bounty hunters, he kept his money in front of him, just slightly to the left of his leg. A tactic to prevent pickpockets like you that frequented the scenes they often found themselves in. Smart, but you had gotten used to this tactic before, and it was a simple swipe of your hand as it quickly entered and retreated the pouch, fingers closed around an unknown number of credits, all within a fraction of a second as you mumbled apologies, raising your opposite hand in distraction as your other moved to pocket your catch.

As soon as your own fingers left the pouch, you knew you were in trouble. Years of being on the streets had taught you when you had the upper hand in a situation or not, whether you were the predator or prey. In that moment, that small fraction of a moment, you went from poised victor to the most demure of prey.

And the man in front of you was the hunter.

His hand, even quicker than your own, moved to latch onto the retreating limb. The very one holding the credits you had thought had been yours.

Head snapping up to meet his, you were faced with an unfeeling gaze in the form of silver surrounding a small ‘t’ of inky darkness that prevented you from seeing his face. You tried to pull away, only to have his stern grip tighten even more, the leather of his glove squeaking in symphony along with the crackling of the joint. Yet you still refused to drop the credits, stubbornly holding onto them out of spite and fear. If he hadn’t seen them yet, there was no way he could indefinitely prove you had taken anything from him, though the way he focused on it told you he already knew the truth.

Kriffing hell. Why had you even thought this would be a good idea. He was a Mandalorian, and in your hunger driven brain you had somehow managed to convince yourself it would actually work. Well congratulations, you had the credits, but now you were as good as dead. If he didn’t decide to deal out his own justice and kill you then and there, surely he would turn you over to the stormtrooper.

The skin on your back tingles and warmed at the thought, memories of public whippings flashing in the back of your mind and doubling your heart rate and raising your panic even more.

Maybe you could still get out of this though. He was a man, as far as you could tell anyways, and all men were susceptible to one thing, hardened warrior or not. You could distract him, try to get a trade or compromise in return for forgetting about the situation. If not him then the clones. Maker knows they were always willing to pass up small crimes every once in a while in exchange for a way to sate their horniness. Though you had never tried the practice yourself, you had heard of numerous others getting off the hook that way. How hard could it be?

Your thoughts were interrupted by movement, bringing you back from your blind panic of plotting how to get out of this. The Mandalorian had tilted his head, t-visor still trained on your face as he observed you. Those around you were all too eager to ignore the situation, walking past with explicitly diverted eyes as they went about their business. The hand not holding yours moved, making you flinch back but with nowhere to go as he kept you trained in place. It moved towards your face and you braced, eyes scrunched and ready for the impact of a palm or fist making contact.

Yet, it never came.

Instead, the soft worn leather gently pressed against your face, fingers gently running along the curve of your cheek, highlighting the bone that protruded with hunger. The occasional scrape of his beskar along the skin makes you shudder, but if he even notices he doesn’t say anything, only continuing to stare as his hand tips your face every which way for him to examine. Then he just...let go. Without another word he had dropped his hands, stepping around and continuing on his original path, leaving you behind him, frozen in place and in a state of shock.

You could have stood there for any measure of time, be it seconds or minutes. Your brain was too busy trying to process what had just happened to even think about anything else. It was only when someone rudely bumped into you, almost knocking you to the ground, that you finally snapped out of it, and suddenly you were running. Feet pounding the uneven ground as you gained speed, faces flew past as little more than blurs as you continued to put more space between you and your should-have-been attacker. If it had been any other time you might have been proud of the speed you had, the burning in your lungs of little significance. Not even when you had seen Leon once again did you blink, blowing past as he called out and tried to grab you.

Before you knew it you were rounding the alley back to your little home, leaping more than climbing up the pipes with record speed as your feet barely touched the rickety metal. You practically dove into your little crate of a home, pulling the lid and locking yourself in darkness as you tried to sooth your pulse, taking deep breaths that did little to help. Absentmindedly, you began humming to yourself. A song so out of tune and unrecognizable it would have made a wookie weep, but it was what you needed as you pressed the burning and sticky skin of your forehead against the cool metal of the wall.

Eventually, after countless repetitions or the short tune, you managed to steady yourself, bringing enough sense back to realize you were still holding onto the credits from before, which were now gripped tightly in your hand. Enough to the point where the skin had turned a pearly white and your fingers hurt to move as you slowly unclenched them, revealing angry marks and even places where the rectangular currency had bit deep enough into the skin to draw blood. But oh what a beautiful sight it was.

One hundred credits laid in your fist, clustered together in a jumble of varying amounts and different kinds, but a total amount of one hundred. You normally only got this after a week of extremely successful hunting in the summer months. The sight of it now was enough to make you cry.

Despite the urge to go and get food from the nearest vendor, you knew better than to go out right away. For all you knew he had only let you go just to follow you back to your base, probably thinking he could turn you into the stormtroopers for a bigger ransom than what he lost, or loot your own place for anything you had stored up. Jokes on him if that was the plan, because he would only get back what you took from him.

The thought stayed stuck in the front of your mind, forcing you to stay tucked in your hiding space for the remainder of the day and keeping you awake through the night. Every little sound made you jump, convinced that you would once again find yourself at the receiving end of his burning gaze, the helmet he wore only masking his expression and leaving your fate uncertain. He never showed though, never ripped the lid off your container or dragged you out into the open.

By the time you managed to fall asleep, your body finally running out of its immense supply of adrenaline, the city itself had just begun to awaken below to the wee hours of the morning, and the fighters had just begun their morning rounds once again.

‘Maybe...maybe just a few hours of sleep.’ You thought to yourself, burrowing down into your small nest of blankets. What could be the harm?

Well, apparently a lot.

You had woken up in a panic, cracking the lid to see that the sky had already gone dark once again. Swearing to yourself, you emerged once again like a Nightshrike from its cave. Foregoing any normal rituals, you allowed your body to stretch itself as you moved, hustling from rooftop to rooftop, something you only did under the cover of night. The last thing you need is someone seeing you and discovering your home up top. You would never be able to get any peace after that.

You were in a rush though, and the thought of wasting a day of work didn’t bother you nearly as much as the thought of your favorite shop closing. With the amount of credits you had now, you wouldn’t have to worry about money for a while, so the only thought you had while the dim lights of the city flicked to life below was getting there as soon as possible. Who knows, maybe you’d even have enough to treat yourself to some fruit, an expensive and rare treat for anyone on the planet.

Skidding to a stop just before the end of the row, your eyes lit up at the sight of the shop still open, clearly readying to close. Shimmying back down to increasingly deserted streets, you were already drooling at the thought of biting into something and not having to wonder what it would taste like. No more than ten minutes later you were leaving, pockets now full of brick bread as the owner locked the doors behind you.

The plan was to only eat half of one on your way back, the nutrient rich and dense pastries giving you enough energy for the day in a single bite, but not even halfway back you found yourself licking the crumbs from your fingertips, hardly holding back from grabbing one of the four remaining loafs. Instead you reached into the opposite side and grabbed the meiloorun fruit you had managed to snag.

Now this was the main event.

Sinking your teeth into the soft skin, you nearly groaned as its taste exploded on your tongue, making your taste buds dance and sing as the sweetness became so intense it almost hurt. You still loved it.

Your stomach was full for the first time in forever, almost foreign as you had begun to forget the feeling. Juice dribbled down your chin as you continued on your way home, making a deliciously sticky mess to be wiped away and cleaned by your lips, intent on not letting a single morsel go to waste.

Thankfully the trip back was less eventful than your previous outing, helping instill an eerie yet calming silence over the city and prompting you to take your time.

You always enjoyed it up here on the roofs. Hardly anyone came up, not many having the same confidence and agility possessed by you and few others, and there was an ever present breeze up here that didn’t quite reach the lower levels. Not to mention the view it gave, which was one of the main reasons you had chosen a roof as your spot for a base camp. If only you could see the stars, but alas, the sight was as rare as greenery here, leaving it up to your own imagination to construct an array of bright lights on the top of your crypt.

Finishing the fruit, you paused at the edge of the building before your own. Small lights danced in the darkness, the occasional lamp illuminating a hustling figure and the street walkers that lined the corners of streets, calling to anyone in sight. The occasional search light of a patrol ship would shin above the buildings as it made its rounds over the city.

‘Must be looking for someone’ you mused, turning back to return home. No reason to get caught out tonight, especially when you were looking at a few days of relaxation.

As you turned, a familiar flash caught your eye, triggering a new taught panic response. You could hardly believe your eyes, rubbing them extra hard just to make sure you were seeing things right. But alas the sight before you neglected to change, unfortunately not a trick of the eye like you had hoped it was, and the Mandalorian you had thought you escaped the previous day continued walking down the dark alley.

You began to sweat backing away from the edge and further out of his line of sight, trying to still keep him in yours as you peered back over and tracked his progress as he got closer.

‘Kriff. I should have known he would want his money back.’

Panicking, you began going over all the escape routes near you. Ones through city street and sewers that would be much too small for him to fit through. Though, if he had tracked you here then chances were he would be able to find you wherever you went. This really wasn’t good. You might not even be able to go collect what meager possessions you had back in your box.

Then, materializing out of the darkness as if he were made of it himself, was Leon. He stepped into the path of the Mandalorian like he had no fear and, knowing how stupid he was, you thought he might actually not have any for the bounty hunter. But why would he when he was the primary enforcer for Sozin and still had his own backup, the three from earlier.

“Hey there.” He spoke in a voice that promised nothing but trouble, hands casually resting in pockets that undoubtedly concealed a weapon of some sorts. "I've been meaning to have a talk with you. The shiny Mandalorian warrior everyone is talking about."

This, you thought, was not good.

[figonas]

Twilight Re-watch Notes Pt. 1 - A Contest for the Worst Movie Quote in History

I'd like to think I'm funny so please enjoy my scene-by-scene notes from a recent Twilight Saga re-watch.

Hey Catherine Hardwicke, opening with the death of an animal was probably not the best choice but go off I guess??

There is a lot of general Bella awkwardness that I'm skipping over here but the scene in gym class is so horrifically, painfully uncomfortable that I almost passed out from the second-hand embarrassment.

Jessica trying her best to be fake nice to the human embodiment of a crumpled soda can: "Aren't people from Arizona like....really tan"

Bella with all the cadence of a child who just found out Santa isn't real: "yeah..I guess that's why they kicked me out"

Mike clearly just trying to get his dick wet: "HAHAH you are funny"

no mike she is not.

I'm not gonna go into the biology class scene because god knows tumblr has beaten that particular horse to death. BUT the scene in the administration office immediately after that is a TRIP. Edward has one of his most dramatic lines here when they won't let him switch classes: “I’ll just have to endure it” ?!?!?!?!?!?! This is INSANITY, he sounds like he's going to burst into tears like Edward please chill you aren't even being a little subtle.

I will never get over Bella trying to put Ketchup on her burger and then just???? giving up???? when it doesn't come out after she limply shakes it approximately once.

“HOW YOU LIKIN DA RAIN GIRL” Is our first contender for the worst and most unnatural line in movie history, and trust me there are plenty more.

Bella accusatorily saying “you were gone” to Edward as if this dude who she met for approximately 30 minutes 2 weeks ago owes her even a PALTRTY SCRAP of an explanation about anything???????

Actually, this whole scene is a horrific nightmare of awkward intrusive conversation:

“You’re asking me about the weather” HOE WHAT ELSE ARE YOU GONNA TALK ABOUT YOU DON’T KNOW EACH OTHER

“hey did you get contacts” WHO JUST ASKS THAT?!?

and of course; “it’s the fluorescents” [RUNS AWAY]

Charlie and Bella have the only organic-sounding dialogue in the entire movie. Any awkwardness they have is BELIEVABLE father-daughter awkwardness and not like "I'm being forced to film this against my will" awkwardness like every other exchange in this film series.

Bella asks Edward ALL OF ONCE about him saving her from the truck and Edward gets so haughty and smug thinking that Bella won't figure it out

“you’re not gonna let this go are you?” “no” “then I hope you enjoy disappointment” [storms off] MY DUDE LITERALLY 2 SCENES LATER SHE FIGURES IT OUT IN 3 GOOGLE CLICKS

“I had an adrenaline rush, it’s very common you can google it” contender number two for the terrible dialogue award.

Edward saying “if you were smart you would stay away from me” AFTER HE APPROACHED HER LIKE FUCK OFF [skeleton throwing its own skull gif]

Kstew got a lot of flack for her performance in this movie but when she has a good partner to exchange lines with she SHINES. The scene with Angela and her at the beach where she tells her to ask Eric to prom is GOOD. EVERY scene with Charlie in THIS ENTIRE FRANCHISE is GOOD. It is nothing but pure misogyny that Rpatz didn’t catch any flack for his truly, horrifically awkward performance

I cannot believe Stephanie thought it would be a good idea to have Edward save Bella from potentially getting gang r*ped like I get it girl is about the drama but still this is just a TOOOUCH too far

“your hand is so cold,” WHO SAYS THIS TO SOMEONE THEY BARELY KNOW COMPLETELY UNPROMPTED???

SHE TRIES TO REFUSE CARRYING BEAR MACE WHEN SHE WAS ALMOST R*PED NOT 4 HOURS PREVIOUSLY LIKE SIS CARRY A KNIFE?!?!?!?!?

The “you’re impossibly fast & strong” monologue is so bad I want to barf

“I’ve killed people before” “doesn’t matter” BITCH YES IT DOES WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU

“MY OWN PERSONAL BRAND OF HEROIN” IS SO BAD. Like we all recognize how bad this is right? Especially when one considered the target demographic for these films, i.e. teenage girls, have NO FUCKING FRAME OF REFERENCE FOR THIS WHAT.SO.EVER.

“And so the lion fell in love with the lamb” YOU’VE KNOWN EACH OTHER FOR ALL OF 3 SECONDS I CAN’T WITH Y'ALL. AT LEAST THE BOOK HAD SOME BUILD-UP JESUS GEEZUS

Who thought this meadow scene was a good idea, they need to be sent straight to hell. WHY ARE THEY LAYING DOWN LIKE, SIT MAYBE?????? IT’S SO WEIRD AND UNNATURAL THEY LOOK LIKE DOLLS I HATE IT

The scene where they get out of the car and Edward puts his arm around Bella while Spotlight by Mutemath plays in the background is TOP TIER teen drama bs and I love it. Far and away the best shot in the movie apart from The Baseball Scene(TM).

I will never get over the fact that Edward's bitch ass rats Bella out for already eating when she comes over to meet his family. BE FUCKING COOL EDWARD FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE, GOD!!!

Esme is too pure for this world I can’t deal with her, & Emmet waving the knife is my favorite thing in all 5 of these movies

Why tf are Alice and Jasper fucking off doing god knows what in a tree and not helping with dinner like everyone else? Y'all ain't special even Rosalie is helping

Esme talking to Rosalie “Clean this up..now” I LOVE YOU BE MY MOM

Earlier they talk about the fact that vampires don’t sleep BUT the first thing Bella says when she walks into Edward's room is “no bed” girl we know what you after you ain't slick.....

WHAT IS THIS DANCING SCENE IN HIS BEDROOM IT’S HORRIBLE TO WATCH and I want to find whoever thought “well I could always make you” was a good line for Edward to say and slap them directly in the mouth.

“hold on tight spider monkey” excuse me while I VOMIT

Mike offering his opinion on Bella dating Edward HOWEVER justified is automatically invalidated by A. his own romantic interest in Bella and B. the fact that he has also know Bella for all of 10 minutes & has no bearing on her personal life whatsoever

THE PAST COUPLE OF MONTHS THIS MAN HAS BEEN COMING INTO HER ROOM AND WATCHING HER SLEEP THIS IS RED FLAG CITY LIKE BELLA WATCH A TRUE CRIME DOCUMENTARY OR READ THE NEWS FOR FUCKS SAKE

THIS FRANCHISE HAS THE MOST HORRIBLE KISSING SCENES IN MOVIE HISTORY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU CAN HEAR LITERALLY EVERY BREATH, EVERY AWKWARD PRESS OF LIPS. You're telling me THIS was the best take of this???? CAN YOU IMAGINE HOW AWKWARD THIS WAS TO FILM

The whole scene when Bella is telling her dad about her date with Edward is absolutely god tier. Charlie snapping the barrel of the shotgun closed, him motioning that he has a halo on, asking her if she still has her pepper spray. BILLY BURKE LIFTED THIS MOVIE UP AND TRIED SO HARD TO CARRY IT ON HIS BROAD, MUSTACHIOED DAD SHOULDERS, WE STAN

WHERE TO START WITH THE BASEBALL SCENE:

Supermassive Black Hole in the background, Alice going AWF with her pitching, Rosalie getting all pissed when Bella says she's out and Emmett yells "c'mon babe it's just a game" like the puppy dog of a person (vampire?) he is, CARLISLE WEARING A SCARF WHILE PLAYING BASEBALL, I WILL NEVER EMOTIONALLY RECOVER FROM JASPERS BAT TRICKS, EMMET AND EDWARDS LAUGH AFTER CRASHING INTO ONE ANOTHER.

A TRULY IMMACULATE MOVIE SCENE. This scene isn’t long enough

“My monkey man” might be the worst line in this movie, I’m so torn between which one is the worst. Also, I'm just now realizing that this is the second time someone has compared a loved one to some type of monkey and I really don't like it.

Bella's defeated “I can’t hurt him” breaks my heart every time. AND FUCKING BILLY BURKE pulling out his acting chops with Charlie’s poor little broken sounding “I know I’m not that much fun to be around we can do more stuff together” & “I just gotcha back” LIKE LITERALLY EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS SCENE HURTS ME ON A PHYSICAL LEVEL AND I AM ENTITLED TO FINANCIAL COMPENSATION

I know I've skipped over a lot but it's just a lot of like star wipe level montage of nonsense, so we are mOVING ON to what is possibly the biggest plot hole I've never recognized before now: How in the hell was James planning on luring Bella out if he didn’t find that videotape of Bella's mom looking for her????? Or was he just going to bust up in the holiday inn, metaphorical guns blazing & toss Bella out a window???

This fight scene between James & Edward is VERY poorly choreographed and you can practically see the stunt wires pulling on their clothes but no one is surprised..this is Twilight after all.

Who the fuck starts the fire in the ballet studio if Carlisle & Edward are with Bella, Jasper and Emmet are holding James's arms and Alice is ripping his head off???? Esme and Rosalie aren't there so the only explanation is that Emmett's power Stephanie never told us about is his ability to start small, controlled, indoor bonfires with his mind.

If Bella was losing blood from her femoral artery it is HIGHLY UNLIKELY that she would have been cognizant enough to tell them her hand was burning + THERE’S A BIG ASS BITE HOW DID THEY MISS IT???

Let Me Sign is such a good fucking song. Actually, while we're on music every song on every Twilight Saga soundtrack SLAPS. At least 1 department at Summit Entertainment was staffed with competent people. (side note, why the fuck do I know the studio by name that made this movie. I need to go lie down)

Bella acting a damn fool in the hospital bed like clingy much

CHARLIE IS SUCH A GOOD DAD FUCK!

The Edward/Jacob beef is so dramatic at prom can you both chill for 5 minutes we haven't even gotten to y'alls bullshit yet that's not until New Moon.

Bella really thought this mfer was gonna turn her at prom in the middle of the dancefloor??????????

Flightless Bird American Mouth. That's it, that's the bullet point

Victoria coming to prom, like we stan a dramatic bitch.

I will almost CERTAINLY post my New Moon (Extended Edition) notes in a few days. & yes I do have notes on the entire franchise.

[musical-in-theory]

Caught in the Crossfire

Chapter 3: Did Someone Say Rebellion?

Chapter 1: x Chapter 2: x

Wilbur fidgeted with his beanie in his hands. His fingers trailed roughly over its fabric and caught on its worn through holes. The poor piece of clothing had seen better days, but barely anyone had ever seen the man without it. Even L’manburg’s revolutionary army could tell you he wore it underneath his tricorn hat.

Now it was being wrung through his hands in worry. Dream was supposed to meet with him hours ago, but the masked man was nowhere to be seen. He needed to get back to Tommy. They only really had each other, despite having the equivalent of a god on their side. Wilbur trusted Tommy with a lot, but Tommy had already shown that he couldn’t be trusted with his own safety. Ever since he lost his second life in the duel, Wilbur hadn’t been able to completely relax while his little brother was out of sight. 

Wilbur shivered and clutched at his coat. It was nearly nightfall, and Wilbur knew all too well how the cold could settle into his bones once the sun set. He made as if to turn back the way he came and start the walk back to Pogtopia when he was interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Leaving so soon?” Dream said with a teasing lilt to his voice. 

Anger blazed through his worry and frustration, or perhaps the rage was heightened by it. “Where the fuck have you been? I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but I don’t exactly have all the time in the world for you to decide I’m worth yours! So unless you’ve brought something that could make up for the two fucking hours I just spent waiting on you, I’d suggest you go back to sitting on your goddamn high horse to keep looking down on us mere fucking mortals, your Highness.” Wilbur’s shoulders heaved as he tried to breathe through his outburst. 

He shook his head and put his beanie back on, steeling his expression to keep from giving away his own surprise. He worked so hard for so long to keep his emotions in check, only ever letting them out for his music. In conversations, he stayed professional, in control. He needed to be the level-headed one to his brothers’ chaos. He didn’t know what it was about Dream that allowed this control to slip away from him. It was like the green bastard could read him like a book. 

Wilbur looked back up at Dream expecting to see signs of aggression or retaliation, but instead his shoulders were shaking under the force of barely contained laughter. “Wow, it’s been a while since anyone’s had the gall to yell at me like that. If it were coming from someone who actually posed a threat, I might have even been scared. It’s kinda refreshing.” 

Wilbur resisted the urge to glare at him for the backhanded compliment. He kept his stare blank and his face neutral in a practiced fashion as he could hear the unsaid threat that loomed underneath the statement. I could destroy you and you wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. 

Dream cleared his throat and continued, “I do have something that could be of some value. I have an idea about our next move. As I recall, one of my most devastating moves was recruiting a spy on the inside.” Dream walked over to Wilbur and circled behind him. He placed his hands on the ex-leader’s shoulders and whispered, “As luck would have it, Schlatt is keeping quite the promising candidate close to his side. His right hand man, I believe he called him?”

Wilbur wrenched himself from Dream’s grasp and put distance between the two of them. “Tubbo? I don’t know, Dream. Eret’s situation was different. His life was already on the line with the war. It wasn’t as if he was risking anything new in that scenario. Tubbo has so much more to lose if he’s caught as a spy…” Wilbur looked away towards the direction of Manburg. 

Dream put his hands up in a placating fashion and chuckled. “I get your point. I do, but he’s also your only option. Nikki is the only other one that’s shown even the slightest bit of sympathy towards your cause, but Schlatt obviously trusts her about as much as he can throw her. She’s been very… outspoken about her dislike of his administration. Tubbo can be persuaded out of his shaky allegiance to Schlatt. He’s Tommy’s best friend. You can use that.”

The thought of using Tommy and Tubbo’s friendship for his own gain sat like lead in his stomach. It was far too much to put on the kid’s shoulders. Wilbur sighed tiredly. The anger-fueled adrenaline had all but drained from his veins. “We made a deal, Dream. What you say goes. I don’t like this at all, but-” He was cut off by more laughter from the other.

“Soot, this isn’t- this isn’t an order. This is just a suggestion. Trust me, you’ll know when the time comes for me to give you an order. For now, I just want to advise you on how to get your little rebellion off the ground. You can say no, but I’d strongly advise you to reconsider.” Dream shook his head. “Just sleep on the idea. You can give me your answer the next time we meet. But you should probably head back. It’s gonna get cold soon, and we don’t have any burning flags around to warm us up.” With that, Dream turned on his heel and walked back into the forest the way he came. 

Wilbur watched his retreating back for a moment before doing the same. That was the thing about Dream he hated the most; He was always able to point out the difficult truths. Wilbur despised the idea of using a child as a spy, especially when it was Tubbo. He already felt enough guilt about having him and Tommy fight in a war that he should have been able to prevent. But Dream was right about needing someone on the inside. 

Wilbur shook his head and picked up his pace. He could think about that later. He needed to get back to Tommy quickly. The kid had been acting off for half a week. Anytime Wilbur would seek him out for something, he’d start fidgeting and avoiding his eyes. Tommy was nervous, and it set Wilbur on edge. Now wasn’t the time for Tommy to start keeping secrets from him. Not when it was practically just the two of them left. 

His shoulders sagged in relief as he finally saw the mound of dirt that signified Pogtopia. The dirt that disguised the opening was a bit shifted out of place, but Wilbur learned early on that it was just another way to tell that Tommy had gone out and come back. He didn’t have a reason to suspect anything until he hit the stairs down into the ravine. 

Two voices sounded from below. They were hushed which immediately set Wilbur on edge. His mind raced. He was terrified of the prospect that someone else had found their base and had already found Tommy. He could easily pick out his little brother’s voice despite his unusually quiet tone. Images flashed through his head of arrows raining down on his head, chasing him, piercing him, killing him, as he fled from people he used to trust. Worry that one of them had finally found the duo had his mouth filling with bile. 

That’s when he heard the unmistakable baritone of the other’s voice. It froze Wilbur where he stood. It brought back far too many memories, almost all of which had been tainted by the bittersweet passage of time. He quickly shook himself out of his stupor and dashed down the rest of the stairs. 

His eyes immediately focused on the shock of bright pink hair standing in the middle of the walkway. He missed the look on Tommy’s face of both fear and hope. Instead, he could only watch as the man that had been speaking with the young exile turned around to face him for the first time in years.

Technoblade had joined the game. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

4 days earlier

Techno put the last of his netherite scraps into his chest and shut the lid with a sigh. His latest trip to the nether hadn’t been as productive as usual, but that couldn’t be helped. The mobs were starting to grow restless in this world, and a small part of Techno sympathized. This had been the longest he’d ever stayed in one place since he’d parted from his family. 

He cringed inwardly as he thought about the people he left behind. He never meant to be gone as long as he had been, but it seemed like the longer he was gone, the harder it was to return. More often than not, he’d just force himself to stop thinking about it or throw himself into another meaningless battle. 

The relentless buzz of his communicator drew him from his thoughts. His eyes widened in surprise. It was Tommy. Years ago Phil had helped code their communicators so that they could all message each other no matter if they were all on separate worlds. Not that any of them had particularly used this feature other than Phil making sure none of them were dead. 

TommyInnit: hey there bitch! wilbur needs you to come to the dream SMP land. we kinda bit off more than we can chew, and this guy schlatt went and fucked everything up. not that I don’t have everything handled and shit. being a Big Man and all. but maybe you could just stop bye and help out for a bit, yeah?

Techno snorted. He knew immediately that this was Tommy’s way of trying to brush off the fact that he needed help. He looked over the message a few more times and tried to ignore the slight sting that accompanied it being Tommy and not Wilbur that reached out. It was clear that the two of them were together, but he’d only heard from one of them. 

He looked out the window. Night was beginning to fall, and Techno could see mobs already spawning. He sighed at the thought of going through the motions of getting rid of the ones that strayed just a little too close to his base. It all had become too monotonous lately. 

He eyed the communicator again and smirked. Perhaps it was time for a change of pace. From what he heard of Dream’s land, a fair amount of people lived there. Plenty of people to fight, especially if Tommy was there to rile them up. 

Technoblade: What’s in it for me?

It was less than a second before Tommy responded. Techno laughed as he read over the message, although deep down it worried him how desperate it felt.

TommyInnit: WOMEN

Technoblade: I guarantee you don’t know any

TommyInnit: i’ll get wilbur to spar with you again

Now, that sparked Techno’s interest. He was going to say yes anyway, but getting to fight with his twin was too good a chance to pass up. He wanted to see if Wilbur had improved any from the last time they’d seen each other. It was a question that popped up every so often when his brothers’ safety ever came across his mind.

Technoblade: You’ve got yourself a deal. I need to tie off a few loose ends here, but I’ll be there in a few days. Keep an eye out and stay safe, gremlin child.

The buzz sounded again, but Techno didn’t look. He could live without the rant about being called a child. He left his communicator on the table while he left to start gathering up the necessities for world travel.

TommyInnit: please hurry…

Thanks everyone for reading! Also thanks for being patient. Finals kicked my ass and I needed some time to focus on that. Thanks once again to @the-ruler-of-rabbits for being such a lovely beta reader! I really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I’m really excited for the next one. Wilbur and Techno get the chance to talk, and it might not go how either of them expect it to.

Taglist: 

@obsidiancreates @strawberiitea @coindoesstuff @unlikelypaperwitch @corrine-370 @crazymecjc @ducklingqueen @idkhowbutimgayer @whydoilovesomanyvillians @anne-the-historian-ish @wilburs-soot @belonginthesky 

Message me if you want added to or taken off the taglist!

[offtopicoverload]

Howdy there!! Who are the li’s you fancy the most from LITG??

hi! thanks for the ask!

i honestly dunno who’s my top answer, cuz they’re all interesting in their own way

I’m only going to talk about female LIs cuz the only male routes I’ve finished are Bobby and Jake, and I tapped through most of Jake and only ended with Bobby on my first run cuz I never unlocked Marisol, so I’m not the best source lol

Talia:

She’s just so chill but has no problem standing up for MC, she has her back no matter what

Which, like, what a queen

She’s the original and only one of 4 LIs, which maybe it’s just me, but for a game based on an incredibly heteronormative reality show, allowing representation for queer audiences from launch is such a big deal and so cool to me, so Talia’s kind of special in my mind

She was also my first LI so nostalgia points

And she’s such an easy LI, not much drama on her route outside of Lucy, just her having MC’s back as the boys make themselves look like idiots

And she has so much potential, like I know some people think her only personality trait is fancying MC, which I mean, is a little fair, but there’s so many opportunities for her in fics and headcanons to develop the good amount of information we got on her in 13 days

I absolutely love how self-aware and confident she is

She just went for what she wanted, struggled a bit with commitment at first, because who wouldn’t, but after that it was smooth sailing

Like obviously what she said in the Beach Hut at the beginning of the season wasn’t great for MC, but she knew exactly what she wanted out of her time on the show

She was confident in herself and her sexuality so much so that she was just down to have a fling with a girl and not worry about how it would effect the show

And then she *coupled up* with that same girl, not even giving a shit about the rules or anything

A queen

Allegra:

I know she’s not an official LI, but her arc is what got me into writing so she gets a million points for that

I love what could have been done with her progression if she was given an actual route, I’m a sucker for some good enemies to lovers, but alas, she’s canonically a bad bitch with a lot of internalised homophobia yet enough confidence to ask MC out

I still love her

Marisol:

I know so many people hate her, and I get it, but I do really like her growth

Maybe it’s cuz I’m pretty analytical too, but her analyses never bothered me or anything, and now that I’ve played her route so many times, it’s pretty obvious that that’s a defense mechanism, and I understand that

She very much so has a “figure their weaknesses out before they have a chance to figure mine out” attitude, and I’m 99% positive it’s because of the ex that Elisa reminded her of

So not only has she been burned in the past, I’m willing to bet it was by the only woman she’s been in a serious relationship with

I really have no problem with her commitment issues, it’s understandable, and I can really empathise with her fear of coming out, it’s absolutely terrifying even if you’ve accepted it and bought a flag, saying the words can be really difficult

My biggest issue is her entitlement and immaturity, I guess?

Like her using Graham to make MC jealous just feels like an excuse to crack on with him and still have MC available for when she’s ready

I understand her being scared to couple up, but playing games to distract herself just made things with MC worse

And unless youre on her route, and sometimes even when you are, it’s clear to me that she expects things and has no problem saying what they are, but going after them is a problem?

Like her going after Lurik even though they don’t have a connection, or Gary even when he’s with Hannah

But then it never works and she gets sad and I melt because I’m weak

ALSO, can I just say how awful it is that Lucas and Henrik don’t pick her unless they have to???

Like cmon she deserves MC after that

And when they finally couple up? And she’s all soft? The GROWTH ohmygod

Anyway I love who Marisol became, maybe not everything she started out as, but definitely the person she ended the season as, more confident and self assured and willing to be vulnerable

It’s precious

Elisa:

I still haven’t done an Elisa route

I tried to a couple months ago, but dumping Marisol felt so cruel, what the hell was Fusebox thinking with that?? 

I do really like that they learned from their mistake though, even if they went in the opposite direction

From what I’ve seen of Elisa, she can be pretty sweet, I’ve seen her described as a Lucas-Bobby hybrid, and while that’s not the most interesting personality to me, I will say that she’s a really cool character that FB messed up on

Why did they make her a straight up villain???

And why ONLY her???

None of the other female LIs have been villains or had such a complete 180

Like her going from shouting at Chelsea, who is literally meant to be MC’s ride or die and the person outside of your LI that youre supposed to want to defend and avenge, to “i cant even sleep because im pining so hard”

I know the treatment of black women has been discussed before, specifically in regards to Hope and Erikah, and it is by no means my place to speak on it, but I definitely think something’s going on with Elisa

Anywayyyy, I love her archetype

The celebrity and influencer has so much potential, to the point that I wrote a one shot without even knowing her lmao 

And she’s so confident in a way that’s so different from Marisol

She doesn’t even care if MC’s happily coupled up, she WILL get in her pants and I respect that

In conclusion, Fusebox did her dirty and I’m probably going to try and retcon some canon for her in the future

Lottie:

Ohmygod

Lottie

A goth babe

Lottie

Yeah, anyway, so I love her

Her growth is just unbeatable in my opinion

Yeah, she still has her flaws by the end of the season, but she went from ready to rip everyone’s throat out to biting her tongue around Hannah

And her and MC???

And the development between them??? 

Ugh

No matter what way you swing it, you’ve either got best friends to lovers or enemies to lovers and I adore both

And her aesthetic is one of my favourites, I’m alt myself and having a character like that is just so cool

My Runaways MC is a ball of sunshine with some hidden darkness specifically because Lottie’s such a dark cloud but can start shining with the right person, and that’s my absolute favourite trope

But man were the wedding episodes a cop out

Why couldn’t they give her the Noah treatment? Or the single treatment? Where they just get together after the show? Same with Hannah, why are they giving such an intense confession after who knows how long of literally nothing, like no communication even????

Don’t get me wrong, I kinda simultaneously love it for the angst and yearning, but it just… makes no sense?

So yeah, amazing bat lady that I seriously vibe with and wish my MC could have wifed up

Hannah:

I know this is a little controversial buuuut

I fucking love Hannah

But only OGHannah, Returning Hannah was butchered and I will never let that go

And it was such a toxic message too, that she needed to change herself and her appearance just to get a guy to like her?

Fuck that, Original Hannah was amazing and perfect exactly as she was

I love her trope, too, the naivety and how obvious and clear it was that she’s still learning about the world and relationships, to the point that it’s going to get her in trouble

And her obsession with fairy tales? 

Fucking adorable ohmygod

I started a fic a while ago that I think I’m gonna scrap, that just indulged in the fairy tale metaphors and stuff because I just love how cute it is lmao

If she wasn’t dumped, I think she could have had amazing growth alongside Lottie, and their friendship/kinda, probably, most-definitely-if-MC’s-not-there-more-than-a-friendship growing together would have been so good

In an alternate reality Hope was dumped instead, and that helps me sleep at night

I firmly stand by the fact that Noah should have been the deciding factor between Hope and Hannah/MC, where Lottie said something that screwed with his head earlier in the day to make sure her friends were safe

Noah should have saved Hannah/MC and Hope should have returned with Rocco, hellbent on revenge and proving herself

That would have been so good for Noah stans and such good drama, that actually made perfect sense

Hope was fully expecting that she’d get picked by Noah because they’d spent three days attached at the hip and then to just… not have that happen. It would have driven her insane and if there was then a scene with MC where she just like, gives up

Like she’s spent the past two days grafting Noah but he won’t make up his mind and she’s just done and MC can comfort her or fight with her and you just get to humanize her make her vulnerable and hurting and I fucking WISH they did something like that, even for RHannah

And Hannah’s growth in the Villa would have been so amazing

I think her idea of a perfect guy is definitely too much, and I’m not advocating that she settles by any means, just that she could have learned that there are things more important than money

That conversation on day 1 where you choose between money, kindness, and intelligence still baffles me

Like why are you a gold digger Hannah?!?!

Why don’t you just want a Prince/ss Charming???

Her and Hope should have swapped and I don’t understand why they weren’t

I mean, I do really like Hope, but Hannah’s just so cute and has so much to learn and her struggling in the Villa just to have a lightbulb moment with MC would have been precious and now I want to write it dammit

Anyway, Hannah is adorable and had so much potential and she never should have returned if they were just going to scrap everything that made her Hannah, except for snooty literature

I wanna listen to her rattle on about Belle and Mulan and every other Disney Princess and what they meant for representation and progress in media and then compare them to their original stories like a dweeb and I would have melted on the spot

Like yes, please tell me more about how gruesome Cinderella is

She should have shown up at the finale and hugged MC and been innocent and sweet so I could have just lost my shit for like a half hour

But stan OGHannah, burn RHannah

AJ:

Adorable, precious, denied an arc outside of coming out

I am not exaggerating when I say that I cried at 4:30 in the morning at her blushing face when playing the first two days

It’s just so fucking cute and I’m a sap and I don’t know why it made me cry, but it did okay?!

And her coming out was such good representation!!! By far the best thing in Boat Party, and I’m so proud of the progress FB’s made in queer representation at the very least

I know she’s pretty one dimensional, but most of S3 is unfortunately

Her being available right off the bat was also such a win, I’m positive it’s the reason she had so many stans

If her and Yasmin had switched or her and Lily, they would have been the ones that were dominating Reddit polls and stuff

And I know she’s written as masc but I just can’t really see it? Like I can’t see her in a dress, but outside of a few clothing items, I guess I just can’t see it? Maybe androgynous is more the word for my image of her, like definitely a mix

She’ll wear a skirt under the right circumstances, but never a dress, a crop top with a flannel, her prom outfit that’s like a frilly jumpsuit, stuff like that? idk im not a lesbian

Her route for me was so glitchy, but I know that if MC’s stolen from her by Yasmin, Tai, or Ciaran, she has some really cute scenes and I wish I could have seen them

And I know some people were ragging on her for the eyelash at the end of the scene but I thought that was just a perfect callback - maybe it’s the writer in me

Basically, AJ’s adorable and why did Ciaran have to split her and MC up, not cool dude

Yasmin:

I forgot I was doing a Yasmin route a while ago, but from what I’ve seen and played, she’s really sweet 

I hate that she’s almost nonexistent outside of her route

Give us a mysterious musician friend, you cowards!

I saw that she sings to MC on the final date and damn is that cute

Her eyeshadow kinda throws me off, but her stuffed animal makes up for it

And I’m salty that Yasmin the Lamb disappeared too, that was such a nice detail that made me start a Yasmin route

She’s distant and self-assured, but has a soft, gooey, nostalgic center and I wish we saw more of that, even if we weren’t on her route

My final thoughts on Yasmin: An artsy indie icon that I really need to stop getting distracted from and finish her route

Lily:

Again, don’t know much about her, but she seems really cool

Her shaving her head between the finale and Boat Party is such a flex and I wish she did it right before Boat Party so we could see her in all her bald glory

She’s into cars, right? And… architecture?

Idk, I barely remember my own name, let alone a 10 minute date from months ago

But I’ll definitely get around to doing her route at some point, maybe just to write for her, we’ll see

Elladine:

I know she’s not an LI, but MC so should have been able to run away with her

I missed that option in S3

I kinda get why they didn’t do that, but Boat Party’s just so messy in general

And I would include Genevieve here, but she’s so cute with Seb that I’d feel bad splitting them up

But Elladine had actual problems with Nicky!!!

Why did they mention it for it to never pay off??

And I’m so mad that the hype around her died when it was revealed she wasn’t an LI or the badass of the season, because I still adore how sweet she is

I also want to brag that before we got a name I was calling her Emma and that’s just on example of my almost psychic-ness

But yeah I wanted Ell to be a run away option and I’m salty that she wasn’t

Know what, fuck it, Viv too, she’s smart and cool as hell, let us love these awesome women FB, you cowards!!!

I have no idea who would be my number 1 based on canon, but if we’re talking hypotheticals, I think my answer, as strange as it is, is Hannah.

I just love what she could have been, but by no means what she is. 

It’s so awkward to know her for three days, not see her for three weeks, then spend a couple more days with, a couple weeks at most, just for her to write a whole ass book about MC?? And tell her about it with that hair????

No thanks, I’ll stick with closeted sapphic horse girl nerd Hannah because I guess that’s somehow my type??? Oh god what the fuck I swear I’m not a total weirdo

[theasteriae-arc]

THE INTERVIEW. 

( or, when sebastian met katherine. the discord thread between @epiitaphs & myself, feat. our muses squabbling over @diabolicaltendencies’ jim ) 

WHITEHALL, c. 2009. 

Her heels make an impressive racket on the tiles, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the corridor like there’s an army of interrogators on their way to sink their teeth into him. Sebastian Moran. The slick haired, sharp tongued politician she had never liked—not even before she’d found out Jim was screwing him. It was just a shame that the thick carpet in his secretary’s office—in his office—muffled the quick ratatat of those stilettos. Her war cry. “No. Excuse me, madam, you can’t- Have you got an appointment? You can’t go in there without an appointment.” Kate ignored her and opened the door to Sebastian’s office. “My name is Katherine Conway,” she said crisply to the man behind the desk. “You’ll want to see me.” And without waiting to be invited, she took a seat across from him, putting her handbag down, and folding her hands expectantly in her lap.

Sebastian is, as always, busy. Everything's manageable at the moment - neither the country nor the party are falling into the abyss, but that doesn’t mean that he's got time to rest. There’s people and policy to keep up to date on, and he can't afford to ever fall behind. Which is why he makes sure to keep a couple steps ahead of where everyone’s supposed to be. It's what got him through school and through the first years of his job. It's also what keeps him at the office late, though that's decreased over time now that Jim's around. Much more appealing to be able to come home to someone and not just the cats. There was a commotion outside, Sebastian looking up from his work just as the door opened. “An interesting opening statement, Katherine Conway,” he replied. The name seemed familiar but not enough to be someone he kept active tabs on. “Will I?” It seemed very much like he would, given that she had clearly decided to make herself home. A nod at the secretary in the doorway and the door was shut. “In that case, I suppose I'd like to know just what it is that you think is so important to require an urgent, unscheduled meeting. My time is valuable and I have later meetings, so brief is best.”

“Cancel them. I’m here to talk about James, and knowing him, that could well take all night.” 

And wouldn’t he just love that? There was a bitter twist to her lips as she continued, “He called me last weekend, told me about the two of you. How serious would you say it was?” He had a pot of pens on his desk, sleek and black with shiny gold hooks so that he could slip one into his pocket without fear of it falling out. She reached forward to take one, testing its weight in her hand, twirling it in between her fingers. “Serious enough for him to call, I suppose. But not serious enough for him to have told you everything, am I right? Didn’t want you to run a background check on him?” Her free hand disappeared into her pocket and came out with a card. Katherine Conway, Named Partner at Conway O’Kelly, an all-female chambers in Dublin. There had been a glint of recognition in his eyes when he’d repeated her name back to her and she was sure this was why; he knew of her work, not her history with his boyfriend. She’d enjoy telling him then. “Well, let me clear up some of the confusion. I used to be his girlfriend. And he wants to introduce you to the daughter we share. So, I wanted to meet you first, to make sure I was happy with that. Politicians, you know, they’re not the most trustworthy people.”

“James, you say? That sounds rather serious.” He made no move to cancel the meetings. He was fairly certain the first one could go on without him, though he’d miss out. But they'd cross that bridge if they came to it. If this was about Jim, he'd rather hear what she had to say, but he didn't intend to be pushed into any particular action. Jim had called her? What could he possibly be up to? “Quite serious, I’d say. I assume you read the news.” If she wanted details, she could refer to that. He watched as she took a pen, wondering just what her intentions where, what her connections to Jim might be. Sebastian didn't indicate an answer one way or another to the first question. “He’s told me more than enough and I have respected his privacy when asked to do so.” Jim’s privacy. Not that of others, but that wasn't something he was going to admit to. Not when she'd given him one small fact - that Jim had called. Fact 2: Sebastian hadn't known. Fact 3: Sebastian didn't know everything. 

She pulled out her card - as if that would give him much more information. It’d give him information that he could find, which was exactly what this meeting was not about. This meeting was about gaps in knowledge and Sebastian hated being on the wrong side of that. She was more than simply her job and title - if she knew Jim, that is. “Thank you for the clarification. It's much appreciated.” The thin smile on his face suggested otherwise. That she was the mother was a surprise, but she didn't have to know that. “I’d be happy to meet his child, should I pass inspection.” That information hadn't been as much from Jim. “Some might say the same for your profession. I’d know - did you look into me at all?” He really hoped so, or he'd be sincerely disappointed. She'd shown initiative so far and it'd be unfortunate if that ended up being a false lead. Time for a little bit more of a gamble. “He did mention you, by the way. As a detail. Youthful mistakes, you know.”

Nothing about her expression, her demeanour, changed. She didn’t miss a breath or move a muscle. Not quite relaxed, because from her posture it was clear that she meant business, but authoritative. Refusing to be riled. Did you look into me at all? Ha. She wanted to scoff—the Dubliner in her who’d grown up in the wrong part of the city wanted to spit—but she didn’t. Instead, she smiled. “Of course. Sebastian Moran, graduated top of his class from Magdalen College, Oxford. Fast tracked into politics, no doubt helped by his Daddy, who’s the Labour Whip in the House of Lords. Sebastian Moran who dislocated his shoulder climbing up the drainpipe of his family home during a scrap with a sibling.” The information about Oxford and his father, she could have got from anywhere. The more personal details, though, they’re not such common knowledge. She could feel his eyes scanning her face, trying to determine her source. “Your sister told me. Moira. Well, obviously. Alex doesn’t talk, does she?” Kate’s smile grew wider, more pointed. “Still managing to cause a lot of trouble up in Manchester though, I hear. Moira and I work the same cases occasionally—opposite sides, of course, but it’s always good to have a glass of wine and catch up. I’d heard rumours about you and James and she all but confirmed them, but he’s never been one for commitment, so.” The comment about her being a mistake more than stung, but she couldn’t let herself lose her cool just yet. She brushed the hair out of her eyes and looked at his steadfastly across the wide expanse of his desk. “You’ll understand if I don’t want my family being dragged into the centre of a political scandal just for the sake of some fling?”

She didn't react, which told him only so much. Either it could be that neither of his hits had landed or that some of them had - and he wasn’t going to be able to tell which ones until she’d started on the offensive again. He didn't like her, but he had to admit she had at least done her research. Plenty of it, it seemed, given the much more personal anecdote tacked on the end. “A good summary of my CV. I’d keep the assumptions to a minimum, if I were you, though. I have an entirely different constituency from him - no handover there. Speaks just a little bit to his position on merit, wouldn't you say?” It was a blow that set him off each time he heard it, but Sebastian wasn't going to reveal weakness. “It's hardly surprising that it'd be easy to find inspiration in his work.”

An eyebrow raised as he stared, wondering just who she might have had access to - ah. Moira. Of course. No family loyalty - he should have known. They'd have to talk about that next time he saw her. In all, the story wasn't too damning, as long as no one looked too closely at how old he'd been at the time. The fact that Moira somehow approved of Conway was both a red flag and a promise that this would be interesting, no matter the way it turned out. “Oh, no, Alex simply has better judgement of who she speaks to.” The jab at Alex was another blow that landed. Conway really had done her research. A smile. “You know, given how close she and Jim are?” Just how far he’d gone since leaving Kate. He wouldn’t give her information that she didn't deserve - that Jim had been committed for far longer than the press knew. “I think he can be, with the right person. Maybe you didn't have enough faith.” The personal angle seemed a far richer vein for now. “I understand perfectly, though really it's up to you - when have I ever been implicated in a scandal, after all? It’d be awful to lose the reputation you've made, wouldn’t it? And I'm sure the scrutiny on the rest of your family would be uncomfortable as well.” It wasn't an outright threat. “All the same, I do understand the value placed on family - did Moira neglect to tell you about the times I've looked after her children?”

“I have plenty of faith, thank you. Actually, I found it was his that was lacking.” Tucked beneath the sharp collar of the severe white shirt ( court clothes; really, she should be at the hotel, prepping her closing statement for tomorrow ) was the battered gold crucifix her parents had given her for her First Communion. Her fingers tighten around one another in her lap so they don’t fly up to fiddle with it. No clues. “And reminding me about his lifestyle choices—" As if that was necessary. “—Won’t help you make your case, Mr. Moran.” Once upon a time, it had been James’s lack of conventionality that she had loved, the fact that he wore leather and make up and made her mother spit with fury whenever she saw them together. When had that changed? When she’d found out she was pregnant and the father of her child had fucked off to England, leaving her unmarried and in trouble and— 

Kate took a deep breath to calm herself, recentre her thoughts, and continued. “I’m sure you’re a fine babysitter,” she said stiffly. “But this is different. And the fact that you can sit there and threaten my family tells me everything I need to know. Unless you have anything else to add, this interview is over.” She pocketed his pen and bent down to retrieve her bag, getting back on her feet before she said, “You can give James my answer, and that is if he ever brings up introducing her to you—or attempts to do it behind my back—I shan’t let him anywhere near her again. We can take it to the courts if we have to; we all know who’s going to win.”

“A strong judgment, I'd say.” Perhaps not entirely unfair, depending on what sort of faith they were discussing, but still. “No, I suppose it wouldn’t. But one of my sisters is willing to avoid gossip about the family, and it’s not the one you’re friends with.” He’d really have to talk to Moira about tattling like that. It was annoying, more than anything, but all the same. She took a breath and - clearly, he’d set her off with one his remarks - this wasn't really how he'd wanted this to go. “I don't see how it's different. In fact, I'd say it's even more low risk than babysitting, given that all Jim has asked of you is an introduction.” He considered asking for his pen back. With her standing, ready to go, he’d have to take this seriously - more seriously than before. He might have told her not to be so sure about the outcome, but that would drive the wedge further between them. For Jim’s sake, he shouldn’t. 

“I know the statistics of custody awards, Miss Conway. There is no need to threaten.” Really, there was no need to resort to outright threats. “You do realize a court case would bring exactly the sort of eyes you’d like to avoid?" He stood as well, finally. “I appreciate how much you're willing to do to protect your family and I won't tell you how to do so, but I do think it incredibly unfair of you to not tell him your decision yourself. Not because I don't want to be the bearer of bad news, but because he - maturely - asked you for permission to do the barest minimum of actions and you're making assumptions based on a five minute interview that you began with no pretensions of civility.” She’d come in on the offensive and he’d replied in kind. "You don't have to like me - I hardly expect you would, but that doesn't seem like just grounds to punish Jim. Or your daughter, really, who I believe is old enough to ask questions. If I find that you've ever actually prevented him from seeing her because of me, then I really will take issue." Maybe a bit of a threat.

“Mrs.” She paused with her bag over her arm, glowering down at him until her got his feet, and then, even in heels, she was forced to look up. “I don't know what kind of woman you think I am, sir, but I'm not a single one, that's for sure. I've been married eleven years next month.” For their anniversary the year before, she and Richard had hoped to go to Italy. Perhaps this year, if they could find someone to mind the children for a long weekend, they'd actually make it to the art galleries in Florence, the catacombs under Rome. Maybe if Jim could take them ... There was no one else she trusted, but could she even trust him anymore? “You said you were short on time and I believe in getting straight to the point, so please forgive me if I didn't pause to make small talk; we're busy people and there's not a whole lot to say. I don't like to be threatened and that’s twice in five minutes you've threatened me and my family. I don't like you, and your attitude certainly isn't helping. How long have you and James been together?”

“Mrs. Conway, then.” They were past pretending to polite, but he might as well be correct. "Yes, that is what the records say, isn't it." Seb hadn't looked into Jim, but he had done some digging. Just to see what he could find. He'd looked less at her, still trying to keep from directly disobeying Jim's wishes, but the brother had been an opportunity. “I did, didn't I. It's still true, but at the same time you did say it could take a while. You seemed less bothered by time limits at the beginning of this.” Which meant most likely that he'd offended her. Which he'd been trying to do, to be fair. “Neither of those were direct threats, Mrs. Conway, but neither of us have time to argue semantics. You rudely marched in here, implied that I was courting scandal and have since mentioned cutting Jim off from his daughter as well as the possibility to take all of this to court. You're hardly innocent.” 

Here was the choice. They were at the rumor stage of the plan. Technically they'd been more or less together for a year by now, but no one else knew that. “You said you read the news - if they're to be believed, then I think you have your answer - that it all came together after his track.” A breadcrumb. “Moira would perhaps tell you that over a year ago, I was in charge of driving him to and from one of our family's gatherings.” And another breadcrumb dropped. If she wanted to pick them up, follow the trail, she could. Everything he'd said was true in its own way. The interpretation was up to her.

One of Kate's eyebrows went up. “If all I was interested in was second-hand gossip and the suppositions of the press,” she said coolly. “Do you think I'd be here? No. So, it doesn't take an Oxford-educated intellect to infer that what I would like to hear is the truth, straight from the horse's mouth, as it were. An alien concept to you maybe, but I’ll wait if I have to.” And so saying, she slipped out of her coat and sat back down, making a show of settling in for a long stalemate. “How did a politician and a musician who has publicly lambasted him on more than one occasion become a serious item?” Her tone was cold, but she was genuinely curious. Not so much in the how, though, more the, why this man, James? What the hell does someone like you see in him?

That had gotten her back, at least. Sebastian sat as well. “I haven’t lied to you, Mrs Conway,” he replied. He had perhaps misrepresented the truth, omitted, assumed, but he hadn't outright lied just yet. And sure, he'd threatened too, but only vaguely. “And did you ask Jim for the truth?” That was - though perhaps a bit of an attack - mostly just curiosity. “Or is he next? Making sure we can't coordinate our stories?” That was an unfair accusation, but he saw no reason to play fair with her. He shrugged, seemingly relaxed. “Maybe it's the public lambasting that makes it fun,” he replied, trying to think of just what he could or should tell her. She didn't deserve the details of their relationship - certainly no more than the general public did. “As much as it may shock you, we get along well. I think we represent a bit of a challenge to each other, and that's what keeps things interesting.”

TO BE CONTINUED ... 

[transxfiles]

Lumberjanes Week Day One: Favorite Roanoke (Jo)

A Single Brown Feather, An Anagram, And A Search In The Dark In The Forest At Night

Jo is clever. She’s clever. She can figure a way out of this.

Something’s up with Molly. They’ve all noticed it, by now. She’s acting strange and speaking with an odd lilt to her voice and her eyes have gone just the slightest bit golden. Normally, they all would have attributed it to nerves; camp would be ending, soon. They all knew that. And they all knew that Molly was anxious about it most of all, even if none of them knew exactly why.

(Well. Mal knew exactly why. Jo knew that Mal knew because April heard from Ripley who heard Mal and Molly talking in hushed tones about it, and April wrote this all down in her great pink notebook and she handed it over to Jo for a read-over. Jo is a scientist, first and foremost, yes. But she took a class in crime scene analysis, and one in psychology, and one in forensics; in short, she makes a rather good detective.)

And today, during capture the flag, Molly disappeared. Mal disappeared, too, shortly after Molly did. They think she was going after her.

The rest of the Roanokes are in their cabin, now. Jen’s holding Ripley and holding back tears, the two of them sitting on a bunk together. Meanwhile, April and Jo have put together a bulletin board of clues, cross-referencing the notes they’ve been keeping, trying to figure out what’s going on.

The Zodiacs are here, too. April thought they’d be of help

“They lost their counselor to the woods at the beginning of the summer,” she’d explained. “I think they might know more than they’re letting on.” 

Emily had offered up her notes to Jo; apparently the Roanokes hadn’t been the only ones keeping tabs on everything. Now, Hes and Wren are doing a sweep of the cabin, looking for clues. Cleaning out Molly’s bunk, and then Mal’s, shifting through duffle bags and peeking behind posters. Barney’s attempting to comfort Jen, though how well that’s working is questionable. Diane’s explaining everything she knows about forest magic to Jo - though apparently, she actually doesn’t know that much.

“It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen, to be honest,” Diane says, sounding defeated.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never seen a place where time works like this. Not even on Olympus, not even in Hades. As soon as my parents set me down in this forest I felt weird. Like, it was trying to take my magic from me.” Diane’s voice is shaking. “I think it’s hungry.”

Jo writes that down; she thinks she can work with that, maybe. Diane’s being cryptic, but for the first time, Jo’s willing to believe it’s because she’s actually as in the dark as the rest of them. 

Mackenzie walks up to the bulletin board, eyeing the red string tying together bits and pieces of information. Notes, photographs, pieces of moss, a scrap of green fabric they found snagged on a thornbush during their first search of the forest after realizing Molly was gone. She looks at one photograph, of a dark cave covered by a waterfall.

“You guys know about the Voice?” She asks.

They look up at her.

“The Voice?” Says Jo, an echo. “The one that keeps sending monsters after us? The one that made Molly stop time?” “Yeah,” Mackenzie says. “It… it took Vanessa from us.” 

“Vanessa?”

“Their counselor,” Jen says, standing up. “Purple hair, spiked up all the time, never wore her uniform, took all the good coffee from the mess hall, deadly good at scrabble. Was with us until about a week or see into the summer. And then she disappeared.” 

Jo looks up from her notes. “The… the Voice took her?” 

April’d told her this, of course. Mentioned it in passing. But she hadn’t expected confirmation.

“That’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“And you think it took Molly, too?” Asks Jo.

“No,” says Hes. She stands up from where she was kneeling beside Molly’s bunk. She’s holding a single brown feather. “I think she went to it willingly.”

Hes hands the feather to Jo.

“What can you say about this?” She asks.

Jo shrugs. “I…”

She doesn’t know what to say.

She’s clever, so, so, clever, but she never learned her birds. The Roanokes have never really been big on earning badges, much more concerned with running about in the woods, causing trouble if they can, stopping it if they must. That’s the point of camp, that chaotic aspect. They hadn’t gotten to birding yet. They were supposed to go two days from now, out in the forest with binoculars. They’d promised Jen. Jo knows it’s not going to happen now.

“Here,” Jen says, quietly. “Bring it over here, please?”

Jo pads over, keeping her feet light on the ancient wooden floor. The cabin is silent.

She places the feather in Jen’s hands.

“It’s unlike any I’ve seen before,” says Jen. She turns it over in her hands a few times, runs her thumb along the soft edge. “It’s a flight feather, definitely. You can see it in the shape, here, the sharpness of the form. But it’s too large to belong to any bird I’ve ever seen.” 

“It’s brown,” Jo adds. “So it can’t belong to the Roc - its wings are black.” 

“Yes.”

“Where did you find this?” Asks Jo, though she already knows the answer.

“Molly’s bunk.”

Her stomach won’t stop twisting itself into knots.

“Okay. So we think that Molly went to the Voice willingly. Why?” 

“She doesn’t want summer to end,” says Ripley. “Mal… Mal said her parents weren’t nice, like ours are.”

“She doesn’t want to go home.” “The Voice has stopped time before,” says Wren. “We all saw the bubble incident.”

“The bubble…” Jo’s eyes go wide. “Bubbles! Where’s Bubbles?”

Suddenly they’ve all descended into a bout of chaos, searching the cabin high and low. Jo knows, she knows , that this is the best lead they’re going to get in a long, long while. If they can find the raccoon.

Ripley’s the one who finds him. Drags him out from under the her bed, a chittering anxious mess. He’s far more animalistic than what Jo’s used to; his normally too-intelligent eyes are dark and terrified, his claws are out and thrashing and frantic. He’s fighting against Ripley. He’s never fought against Ripley before.

“He’s scared,” she says.

Jo steps forward to take him from her arms, but April stops her.

“I’m the strongest one here,” she says, quietly. “I should do this. Just in case he… well, in case he gets any worse.” 

Jo nods. 

April reaches out and picks Bubbles up, and he immediately tears a slash in her beautiful lavender sweater. April winces, but Jo can tell it isn’t too bad; there’s no blood. For whatever reason, April’s always been hard to hurt. She’s strong as hell, and her skin doesn’t cut, unyielding to knives or claws or thorns.

“Molly,” April says to Bubbles.

Normally, Bubbles’s eyes light up at the name.

Now, he hisses, fights April’s iron grip even more.

Jo and April share a look.

Something is horribly wrong.

-

Jo has never hated investigating the woods at night before, though she’s starting to.

They’ve split up. Three groups; April, Wren, and Emily in the first. The second, Ripley, Hes, and Jen. Jo, Diane, and Barney in the last one..

They know it’s stupid and they know it’s impulsive and they know that the odds of them coming out of this one alive are slim, but they’ve decided to go looking for the Voice’s cave anyway.

Rosie told them not to, when they told her what was going on. Shouted at them to stay inside. Locked down the camp. It was a pain to get through her security, though easier with Jen on their side. A counselor, it seems, can slip through anything.

Jo had to make the plan, what with Mal gone. And Jen helped a bit. And they still managed to get through, nonetheless, and out into the woods safe and sound, for now.

Ripley, Hes, and Jen are trying to find Abigail, or the Bearwoman. Someone who knows about magic, someone who’d be willing to help. But the woods are a maze that changes its form with every step, and they don’t have any means of communication, even with the flares Jen promised to send up in case anything went awry.

Jo tries not to think about what might happen if the flares don’t work. Or if some tragedy befalls the group before they have time to send one up. Or if something clever, more clever than any of them put together, manages to get to them first, stealing a flare and then stealing them away like the Voice stole Molly and Mal. Because, though Jo knows it’s naive, she continues to hold onto the promise that Molly didn’t choose this. That Molly’s out there, fighting the Voice, that Mal is fighting alongside her, that they’re not handing over their souls willingly in exchange for more summer days.

Jo looks up to see Diane in front of her, turns to check that Barney’s still at her back. The trail they walk is becoming more and more narrow with each step they take. Diane keeps insisting this is good. At least, for their purposes.

“The more the trail narrows, the more the forest is trying to steer us away. It means that we’re heading towards something it doesn’t want us to find.” 

“Like the Voice,” Jo says.

“Exactly.” 

It feels like they’ve been walking for days, now. That the night is lasting forever. And who could tell, either way? Time doesn’t work here, not really. When Jo looks up, she sees a starless sky. Cloudy, she’d think, if she was anywhere but here. Instead, she looks up and she grows wary.

The forest controls everything, here. The deeper in they go, the more powerful it becomes.

The starless sky is a warning. She’s sure of it.

-

“What does the Voice look like?” Asks Barney.

“Well,” says Diane, thinking. “Great big red eyes. Body made of shadow. Evil, as far as we can tell…” 

Jo finds herself smirking, despite it all. “Evil isn’t a physical trait.” 

“It is on this piece of shit.”

“And we used to have a counselor?” Barney asks.

Diane nods. “Yeah. Vanessa. She disappeared before you joined up. At first we thought she just went into town on important business, or something. But then she was gone for a long time, and so Hes went looking - she was appointed Stand-In Counselor or something, thought she could boss us around - and she ended up in dark forest. Got lost for a few days. Discovered a scrap of Vanessa’s favorite t-shirt, apparently, muddied and looking a thousands years older than it should have been, but there, nonetheless. Picked it up, and immediately found herself face to face with a pair of glowing red eyes, and voice that chilled her to her bones.” 

“The Voice.” 

“We think so, yeah.” She looks at Jo. “At least, matches your descriptions of it.” 

“Yeah.” Jo sighs. “Yeah.” 

“Jo?” Says Barney. “Diane?”

“What is it, Barn?” 

“Do you…” they sigh. “Do you think we’re actually going to find Molly?” 

“Of course!” Jo says.

She hopes she’s not as bad a liar as she feels.

-

They get up and start walking again. The trees get closer and closer together, so thick they feel like a wall of solid wood. But Jo and Diane and Barney push through them. And then they find themselves met with vines. And they tear up the vines and push through these, too, and find themselves met with thorns. And on and on it seems to go, and Jo knows, knows with more than just gut instinct, that the forest doesn’t want them here.

She barely notices it when written on one of the trees is a word.

Well, the more accurate description would be carved into one of the trees.

“What does this say?”

“What?” 

Jo’s stopped walking entirely, staring at the etching in the bark. “There’s something carved into this tree. I know there is.” Curse her horrible eyesight. She’s probably due for glasses anytime soon.

“Wait,” Barney says. “Diane. You can see in the dark, right?” 

“How did you know that?” 

Barney sighs. “Do you know how many times I’ve walked into the cabin to find you reading in the dead of night without a light on? It’s not that hard to tell. Emily told me that she actually thought you were a demon or something before she found out you were a goddess because of your wacky night vision.”

“Okay, fine. I have night vision. It’s a perk of being goddess of the hunt.”

“Okay,” Jo says, stepping aside from the tree. “Can you read this?” 

Diane steps up to it, and squints. “These don’t even sound like real words.” 

“Just say what it says.” 

“Okay… um… ‘Wham! I Play Level Loom.’” She shakes her head. “It’s probably nothing. I mean, Level Loom? I can’t be the only one here who thinks this is ridiculous.” 

“It’s not ridiculous,” says Jo. “It’s an anagram.” 

“Anagram?” 

“Molly’s speciality.” She tries to sound calm. "It's gotta be a sign. Someone’s trying to tell us something."

Jo grabs a pencil from behind her ear, a pad of paper from her pocket. She starts writing down combinations of letters, scribbling furiously.

Barney and Diane share a glance behind her back. Diane doesn’t like the Roanokes, not really, but she is worried for them. Barney likes the Roanokes quite a bit; they’re worried for them, too.

They move away from Jo, sitting on a rock and letting her work in peace. Sometimes they pass a word or two between themselves in ASL - Wren’s been teaching them in their free time around the cabin, and they’re both quite good at it.

There’s a noise somewhere above them, a flutter of wings. They pay it no mind; there are many creatures in this forest, mostly harmless. Bats are common.

“Via Elmo, He Pwoily?” Jo mutters. “No, that’s not a word - Leave Him Wool… no, that won’t work, that doesn’t even make sense…”

The sound of pencil scratches is so loud in Jo’s ears, and the sound of those gears turning and turning in her head, she doesn’t hear the distant screams. April’s screams, she would have known, had she only listened.

Barney hears the screams. But before they can say anything, they’re gone. Diane looks up to find herself sitting next to no one.

“Jo?” She says, her voice shaking.

“Hold up Diane, not now, I’ve almost got this,” she mutters. Jo’s clever. She’s so clever, and she knows it, she knows she can do this. She has a few words down. “I have…” she writes those in. She still has a few more letters left, but then something clicks in her brain.

“Jo,” Diane says, a strange urgency in her voice. “Jo.”

“I’ve got it!” Jo says, finally looking up from her notepad. “I have Molly Powell.”

She’s so proud of her work, she doesn’t even process the words at first. And then those gears in her head start to turn, again, and she drops her pad on the ground.

“Oh my god.” “Jo?” Asks Diane. “Jo. Who has Molly?”

“I…”

I have Molly Powell.

“Hello,” says a twisted voice from above them.

Diane and Jo look up into that ink black sky.

Jo almost screams. But she knows better. April’s taught her to stand her ground.

Diane does scream. She figures that now, there’s nothing more to lose.

In the sky, wings grown from her back, eyes an icy gold, is Molly.

“I have Molly Powell,” says another voice, from behind them. A voice that sends shivers down Jo’s spine, one that’s she’s never quite heard before, but recognizes, nonetheless.

Not a voice.

The Voice.

“I think we’re going to have a lot of fun this summer,” it says. “Don’t you?”

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Two-Faced Talk || Morgan & Nadia?

TIMING: Current

LOCATION: Morgan & Deirdre’s house

PARTIES: @humanmoodring @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Morgan has Nadia over for a soft chat after realizing she hurt Remmy. Nadia’s a little split on what to think about that.

CONTAINS: discussion of food poisoning

Morgan checked the clock every few seconds. She’d run Remmy out of the house on an errand, Deirdre was at work, and it was almost noon, the time Nadia was supposed to come by to hang...with her fists. Not that she knew that. Or that Morgan had much of an ingenious plan beyond making her suffer for giving Remmy enough Infector Mortis to give them a slow and painful, permanent death. The small knife she used for throwing practice was still in her pocket, sheathed and ready to go. As soon as Nadia announced herself at the door Morgan was on the other side, gripping the handle. She needed answers, first and foremost. She had brought Nadia here for answers, for Remmy, and for the smallest scrap of recompense. However the got there, so be it.

“Hey!” She said brightly. “Thanks for coming over! Come on in—” She took Nadia’s hand and lead her inside, then promptly twisted her arm behind her and shoved her into the house. “I have a question for you. Well, a few, really. But we can start with whether you seriously thought no one was going to figure out you fed Remmy Infector Mortis. Did you really think that one out?”

Nadia only had a shaky amount of control over their body when she went to meet Morgan. It was so stupid; what happened at the cabin should have given her more control, not less. Nadia was willing to give it up, too. And yet, half the time, they seemed to be legitimately sharing a body. When she was in control, Nadia tried to regain control of the situation. When her host was in control, she kind of just stewed and panicked over everything that they’d done until she worked herself up too much emotionally. There were triggers to their switches. High emotions. Pain. Sleep. The last one had only happened a handful of times, and never for very long. At least the two of them could agree that they hated sleeping. They also agreed they needed to talk to Morgan to figure out what the hell was going on. And Nadia wanted to see Remmy. She thought they were fun, especially since she technically didn’t have to kill them.

When Morgan jerked Nadia’s arm behind her back, she gasped out, tears in her eyes. It wasn’t any sort of pain but mostly shock, though Morgan’s grip was cold and ironclad. “What?” she asked, panicked and confused and not really understanding what Morgan was asking. She couldn’t feel her, didn’t understand what was going on. “What?”

Morgan shut the door behind them and flicked the deadbolt shut. “I think I’m making myself very clear,” she said firmly. “Infector Mortis only takes a few hours to take effect, and you may have been smart enough to time it so Remmy got sick in a restaurant full of poisoned humans, but you were still dumb enough to be the only person who came into spitting distance of their food. Did you think no one would figure it out?” She grabbed Nadia by the shirt and shook her. “Answer me. Now.”

When the deadbolt shut, Nadia felt an overwhelming sense of panic overwhelm her as she realized she was locked somewhere with someone that she couldn’t feel. How strange it was, to be trapped with her own emotions. “I--” Tears began to stream down her cheeks. What had she done? She poisoned someone? How could she--

Nadia allowed the tears to keep falling, and she let out a sob. “I’m so sorry.” Truthfully, she hadn’t really been concerned about what would happen after when Remmy was supposed to fucking die. Whatever. Between Nadia’s emotions and her being pissed as hell at Tommy for putting her in this situation, Nadia could handle it. She could. “He made me and I couldn’t-- How do you say no to someone holding your life over your head?”

Morgan released her hold on Nadia as she started to cry. It felt too monstrous, making someone burst into tears and making it worse. She hated seeing anyone cry and even if Nadia deserved all this and worse for what she did to Remmy-- Morgan hissed between her teeth and backed away from her, still blocking the door. “Sorry, for attempted murder. No, wait, leading them on and attempted murder. I didn’t really think you were the play and run type.” But, from what she was saying, there might be a seriously grim reason behind that. “What do you mean he’s got your life over your head? Who? Who made you do this?”

“I am sorry! I’m not a murderer,” Nadia said, and it was true; every attempt at pre-planned killing that she’d attempted had failed, so, really, she wasn’t a murderer. She didn’t plan out kills. They just kind of happened, and she rolled through the punches. “I didn’t want to kill them, and I’m really fucking glad they’re alive.” At least, she didn’t really want them to be dead. “I think they’re sweet and kind and really wonderful. I didn’t want them to die.” Nadia took a shaky breath, trying to calm herself just enough that Nadia wouldn’t take over again. Calm. They both needed calm in order to stick around. “There’s a guy. I thought he was just this really great guy, or, you know, he was really fun. I got kind involved with him, his work. Easy money stuff. And then I couldn’t get out of it. And then he told me to kill this zombie or else. I didn’t realize it was Remmy until too late, I swear!”

Morgan deflated, her rage winding down into annoyance. Some needling, bitter part of her wanted this story to be a lie, just so she could put her fist through the girl’s face and dent her Disney Princess cheekbones. But she was crying so horribly, the questions had caught her so off guard, there was no way she could’ve had this prepared or made it up on her feet. It was just the right kind of stupid; no one would expect anyone to believe something like that unless it was true. “God, you’re a fucking cliche,” Morgan muttered. “Fine. What’s his name? Who’s he work for? If you really don’t want to be held responsible for trying to murder my best friend, you’re gonna have to be a little more proactive than that.”

It was the ghost’s rage that brought Nadia back, that seething undercurrent of emotion that caused her to shut her eyes tightly. Take it back take it back take it back. I don’t want to be here. She rubbed at her temples and shook her head, slight. “I’m sorry,” she said thickly. “I’m getting sick.” Please just take over or say his fucking name. She wanted this conversation to end; she wanted Morgan to just do whatever and get it over with.

Nadia took another steady breath. “Sorry,” she reiterated, her teeth gritted. She had to keep control She had to get herself out of this. “Tommy. His name is Tommy Wright. He’s a criminal.” She swallowed thickly before looking at Morgan with reddened eyes. “I’ll admit that I’m not the greatest person in the world, but I didn’t want to kill Remmy, and I wouldn’t have even tried if I thought I’d had another choice.” At this point, she was sure that the price she was paid wasn’t worth all the damn headache she’d been caused.

The last of Morgan’s aggression flagged away, crushed as she watched her get physically ill on her own angst. “Come here,” she sighed, gesturing towards the kitchen. “I’m not gonna throttle you, okay? You’re safe, for all intents and purposes. She filled a glass with ice water and held it out to her. “You need to hydrate. Also, it’s really hard to cry and drink water at the same time. Take it as a pro tip from a cry baby: chug.” She drummed her fingers on the edge of the counter. Hugs and assurances seemed to have been taken pretty effectively off the table with the whole threat of violence thing, but if Nadia really was on the hook of some criminal, didn’t she need help? “I don’t care about good people and bad people,” she sighed. “I care about whether or not someone hurts my friends. And I care about intentions and helping people my friends care about.” She shrugged. “I’m not sorry I scared you, but I am glad you told me the truth anyway. How much trouble are you in, that it didn’t work? Is this Tommy guy gonna try and hurt you?”

Nadia followed Morgan into the kitchen, feeling marginally more relaxed as she felt like the woman was buying her story. At least, she hoped. It was so fucking hard to tell. Undead. She downed the glass of water, letting it soothe her throat. She actually didn’t remember the last time they’d eaten or drank anything. The last few days had been rough. “Thank you,” she said, putting as much sincerity as possible into it. She even managed to laugh a little bit in a low, self-deprecating way. “I don’t even blame you. You’re just looking out for your friend. It’s noble.” Which seemed to be a zombie trait around these parts. Kind-hearted, brain-eating zombies. Who’d have thought? “I’m in a lot of trouble. Not just because of him, or this.” she kept her voice quiet, her tone somber. “But I’m glad they're not dead. I didn’t want to kill them. I can’t imagine it’ll be that great. He really likes making people afraid, hurting them.”

Morgan plopped down on a chair near Nadia, looking for an answer somewhere in the middle distance. “Do you have somewhere to stay? Somewhere that’s a little hard to find? I don’t really know much about how local criminals work, but I figure they’ve got...I don’t know, goons or something to do their stalking. Maybe you can--I don’t know.” Not stay here. Remmy needed to feel safe here. And even if Deirdre could slice and dice through anyone who came to the door, she didn’t want that kind of responsibility falling on her home, at least not to someone who’d tried to murder Remmy. “Nadia, I am trying really hard to give you the compassion I think you probably deserve, but you should probably stop reminding me of what you did to my friend. Do you need money, to get somewhere safe? Can you take care of yourself? Protect yourself from this Tommy guy before he makes you wreck someone else’s life?”

Did Nadia have somewhere to stay? Well, she’d been squatting in empty houses and setting up a camp in some of the nicer, less supernatural invested land around town so, “Yes, I’ve been moving around a lot. He’s not going to find me.” If he did, she’d just try to talk her way out of that, too. Still, she was tired, and she was running out of words. “Right, sorry, right. No more reminding you of that.” Even if Morgan was kind of the one that kept bringing it up, and she was just trying to fucking apologize, dammit. How many fucking times had she apologized in the last few days? More than she had in a lifetime. “I can take care of myself. Sometimes I’m even good at it.” She gave Morgan a tired smile. “Not that you can tell right now.”

“No, I can’t,” Morgan replied. “So, maybe try to get better at it, okay? Remmy, for some reason, cares about you. They probably still do. As much as I get a hard time for wanting to believe in people, Remmy’s even worse. And I know they’d be upset if something bad happened to you, even after everything.” Morgan stretched out her arms, searching for something in her to give Nadia a pat on the hand, a little something to remind her that she was still a person, that there was still something good to try for and look forward to and whatever low had brought her to this Tommy asshole. But whatever well she had for that stuff wouldn’t open for Nadia. Not today. But she leveled her eyes at the girl and offered what excuse of a smile she could while being sincere. “I’m not going to hurt you, Nadia. As long as you don’t hurt any more of my friends. Intentions matter, always, but so do they. Please get out of my house now.”

[girlmeetsliv3]

Q & A

The 2K follower special is here. Thank you to everyone that submitted a question. The transcript is below for those of you who would rather read. Hope you enjoy ♡ ♡ ♡

I do apologize in advance as my mic picked up on every little sound. Such as me rubbing my arm soothingly and my accidentally hitting my ankles against my chair. Also, sorry for the long pauses this was the third take and it was the best one. 

Hi everyone, this is Cloud. I’m doing this Q & A special as a thank you for getting me to two thousand followers which I really appreciate. It’s twenty questions long, I don’t think it’s going to take a long time. I do apologize in advance if I’m a bit awkward, I’m alone in my room talking to a mic. So, I do apologize in advance.

1) Where are you from?

          I’m from South Florida, but my family and I are Latinos.

2) What made you decide to write specifically yandere? And would you ever post a nonstandard story on the blog?

           So, what got me into yandere or what really opened me up to writing it was the fact that when I was twelve or thirteen I was really into wattpad stories. A couple years ago, when I revisited them I realized that a lot of them painted these abusive relationships in a positive light or just romanticized them a lot. Which is terrible, because when I read that I grew up thinking that’s how relationships were supposed to be. That your partner is supposed to be possessive, kind of controlling, and a bit handsy sometimes. Which is obviously very wrong.

           What I like about yandere, what got me into writing it, was the fact that I could portray these relationships that had been romanticized when I was younger - that the media often romanticizes - that it’s not healthy. It’s not good. Specifically, people who are inexperienced the way I was. I think you can hear about all these red flags and different things, but if you’ve never been in a relationship and you don’t really know what a red flag looks like I think it’s important to know those signs. I think that’s why I write my stories.

           On whether I would ever post a nonstandard on the blog, I have wanted to write other stories but I don’t think I’ll do it on this blog. Just because this blog is so centered on being a yandere blog and my followers/readers sort of come to my blog expecting something. So, I would probably open a second blog and just write other stories on that.

3) Who is your bias?

           I like to think I’m OT7 bias. I love all seven of the members and support them, however, the people who first caught my attention from BTS were Tae and Yoongi.

4) How long have you been writing?

           So I’m twenty now, I would say I’ve been writing for over ten years now. I actually got in trouble a lot back when I was in elementary school and middle school because instead of paying attention I would just write little short stories or chaptered stories, that just really made no sense, during class. I would just write it on scraps of paper instead of actually taking notes.

5) What got you into writing?

           I think like a lot of people I was really into books. I loved books so much. I want to get back into them, but I think a lot of people can relate when I say I’d rather read a 100k story than open up a book. What got me into writing was definitely reading, I read so much. I carried a book with me everywhere. I read so much that my parents told me I had to stop reading - that’s the level I was at. (insert awkward laugh) What got me into reading though was this little, not really popular, book called Twilight. I was eight when I saw the movie and then I got the book for my birthday. I just fell down a rabbit hole after that of just reading.

6) Your favorite fic so far?

           That I’ve written would definitely be Datura. I just love it so much, it holds such a special place in my heart - all those characters.

7) What’s your favorite non-yandere fic?

           I have several, I even have a blog called @girlmeetsfics (shameless plug) dedicated to all the stories that I find. Cause I have my likes locked. But, right now my top three are: @rkivenamu, I’m sorry if I mispronounce these usernames, Let’s Be Bad Guys. I’m a slut for OT7 in space, I just am. That story is so phenomenal. So well written. The characters are so interesting. The stakes are so well written. I think it’s difficult to get action done well in books, you can get tension, but when it comes to action scenes its difficult to elaborate on them, but she does it so well and you really feel that the character’s lives are in danger and that anything could happen at any second. I’m actually such a fan of that story and love it so much that I followed her or them and I put on the post notifications to be notified for when she would update again.

           In second place, I have @btssavedmylifeblr Void. If you haven’t read that - you’re missing out. It’s amazing. It’s phenomenal. I love the character’s so much. Again, I’m a sucker for space stories, I just love sci-fi.

           And then recently @gukslut Rattled is such a beautiful and heartbreaking tale. It’s so human. I’ve never read such human characters before, they are just so real and raw and I just love it. So, I would definitely recommend checking it out.

8) Is there any style of writing that you try to emulate?

           Some of my favorite authors are those turn of the century authors: J.M. Barrie, Lewis Carrol, etc. I really love those stories. If you’ve ever read some of those authors - Edgar Allan Poe and some of Lovecraft - they are third-person point of view, but its this weird blend between you being a person in the story and the story being told to you.

9) Name a trope you hate.

           I don’t really hate anything. What I don’t like to maybe read or write is a boring protagonist. I don’t like a character that is so blank slate that they just have no personality. Or nothing to do and they’re just there to be pushed around. They’re a really passive protagonist and don’t get me wrong, you can definitely do a passive protagonist right. I just really don’t like protagonists that are a blank slate, that you have to force yourself to give them a personality. That there’s no personality given to them by the author.

           I do understand that the stories I write, and the most popular stories are, self-insert or member x reader but I think you can manage to get away with still having some characterization there.

10) What is a dynamic you always include in your stories?

           Something I like to highlight a lot is codependency. From my personal experience, a lot of the toxic relationships that I’ve been in - even though they haven’t been romantic, mainly platonic - suffer from codependency or it’s definitely one of the dynamics that play a significant role. So, its something I always like to highlight in these relationships. With co-dependency, it might not always seem bad to be entirely reliant on someone, especially if your self-esteem isn’t that high (self-esteem as defined by Adler & Stewart), but it can really quickly turn toxic in the hands of the wrong person or even in the hands of the right person.

11) If you had to pick to be the OC of one of your stories who would you be?

           This is going to sound weird and kinda masochistic, but I would be interested in being the OC of the Violent Delights story. Even though all the character’s in that story are so beyond intense and given how it ends. Well, the series might not end like that I’m still not sure. But given how the one-shot ends, it’s kinda depressing but that is the OC I would be.

12) Any upcoming fics you’re excited to write about?

           I’m excited for Violent Delights. I have something in the works, regarding that story, with a really popular writer on Tumblr. Hopefully, it works out. I really hope it does, but I’m really excited for that story and I hope you guys are too.

13) Would you ever write for other groups that aren’t BTS?

           I’m not sure. I really want to write girl groups, I think that’s my main thing. I think the yandere dynamic with women changes a lot. There’s this stereotype that most yandere tend to be girls, because misogyny, and whatnot but I really want to write a girl group. I don’t know which girl group…(thinks about it a little) eh, I kinda do. So yeah, definitely girl groups.

14) If you could do a collab, who are the top 5 writers you’d want to collab with?

           The first two are the ones that got me into yandere or at least writing yandere, which are @sweetbunnykook and @chinkbihh. Min, @jooniescupcakes, I’d love to collab with Min. Recently I discovered, (by recently I mean two months ago) @taequois she writes some amazing yandere stories and she isn’t afraid to go there and I love that. I really like dark stories.

15) Are there any discontinued stories you can see yourself coming back to?

           I would love to go back to Inferno, Purgatorio, and Paradiso. I’d love to go back to them and rewrite them - completely change them. I wouldn’t delete them perse, especially not Paradiso because that is the first story I ever wrote on the blog, but I think I’d reformat them and make them really long one-shots.

16) What’s your favorite animal?

           My favorite animal used to a cheetah. I don’t really have a favorite animal anymore. The only animal that I can say that comes into my mind isn’t even real: it’s because I finished watching Avatar so a flying bison would definitely be my favorite animal. Realistically, maybe a cheetah and my second would be a cat (I really want a cat).

17) Would you ever write a hybrid story?

           I would never say no, because I don’t know what the future entails, I’m just uncomfortable with hybrid stories. By that I don’t mean that they make me uncomfortable, I mean that I don’t know enough about them to feel comfortable writing them. There was a while between me saying I was going to write an ABO story and then me actually writing Lilies of the Valley because I had to do a lot of research. Search thinks like tropes because I really wanted to avoid a lot of cliches. I actually read and there are a lot of really good hybrid stories. So, I don’t know if I would ever write it. I am open to it, but I have a lot of works in progress right now.

18) Is there anything that’s a hard limit for you?

           Yes, I think I could never write sexual assault. I know a lot of my stories feature dubious consent because of the situation the protagonists are in, but I don’t think I could ever write explicitly sexual assault. So that’s definitely a hard limit for me.

19) When is the next part of pon coming out? Before or after you finish lotv?

           The reason pon has taken so long is that I have to catch up from where the second part ended to the end of the one-shot. Part three is essentially the one-shot. Obviously things are going to be different, but from where the story ended to the end of the one-shot which is insane. It’s a lot. Pon only has like five parts, I wanna say, so it’s definitely a lot. I have some of the outline worked out, but it’s a lot.

           I can’t say right now if it’s before or after Lilies of the valley. I have most of Lilies of the valley written, I don’t think there is going to be more than ten chapters - maybe twelve at most. I want to say a mid to late June deadline is what I have right now. My plan is to put out prince of nothing part three and then the day after put out Violent Delights. So look forward to that, please.

20) Do you see yourself doing this in the long run?

           I wanna say yes, I’ve only been here a year and it feels like such a short amount of time looking back because so much has happened. I never thought I would reach 2k followers. I never even really thought I would reach 1k, to be quite honest. So, I see myself doing this for maybe one more year - I don’t know. With the way things are going on in the world, things are difficult but at least now I have time. Time to write, even though god knows sometimes I just can’t.

           I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. I really enjoy doing this and it makes me really happy. I feel like I have a safe space on this blog to go to when things get tough in life and I’d really like to thank you all for giving me that. For giving me a platform in which I could express myself and share my stories because for the longest time I thought that no one really wanted to hear them. So, again I’d like to thank you all so much for that.

           Okay, so that’s the end. I’m sorry that this was a little long, I will have a transcript (this right now). So again I’d like to thank you all again for 2,000 followers. There is a lot more coming, I have a lot of surprises planned for you guys that I am currently working on. I’m recording this on Friday and plan to upload it on Sunday. Again thank you all, this is Cloud signing out. Kisses. Bye.