#it’s the end of the age of sail but I’m gonna tag it anyway

[benjhawkins]

Here we have what remains of the Evelina M. Goulart, built at the A.D. Story Shipyard (now the Essex Shipbuilding Museum) in Essex Massachusetts in 1927.

What made her unique was she fished year round- during summer she’d be fitted with a bowsprit and tall fore topmast for swordfishing, and in winter fitted for dragging fishing nets.

In this portrait by Alvaro Acores you can see how she would have been rigged for winter fishing, with a pilot house built over the wheel.

She is only one of seven remaining Essex-built fishing schooners, and has been relatively unchanged since 1927. She continued fishing until she was damaged and sunk by Hurricane Gloria in 1985. She was raised and donated to the museum

Today she sits in the shipyard where she was built as an example of one of the hundreds of vessels that were built in Essex and all across New England.

And here’s me for scale!

[thelovelyghostwriter]

My HxH ships

Disclaimer: These are my thoughts on my ships to share with my Tumblr friends. If you’re some stranger who disagrees with it and it evokes negative emotions on you, kindly exit. I know the internet has a bunch of trolls/idiots that has a habit of harassing people because the ship is “wrong” or it doesn’t suit them. Well, honestly, I don’t really care if you agree with them because I don’t know you personally? And this is fictional so it’s not something to be taken personally or even seriously. Don’t confuse my personal values with what I like with the ships.

I can’t believe I even need to make a disclaimer on this because a bunch of people don’t know how to be civilized once they are anonymous on a social media platform. I will just block lol; BYEEE.

HxH I love:

Defintion - Actively ships them, willing to make fanfics of them if possible

1. Kurapika x Neon

This ship is so underrated it hurts. They may not be similar in terms of personality and views of the dead: Neon focuses more on the living and the present (that’s why she doesn’t have sympathy for the dead and tells Chrollo her fortunes are for the living), while Kurapika focuses on the past and mourns for the dead (his mourning for his clan). But I think both of them are very similar in terms of loneliness. Neon doesn’t have friends and lacks affections from her father; Kurapika is lonely because all of his clan members are dead.

I know the common barrier is Neon’s hobby for flesh collecting, but I think this difference is what makes it more complicated and interesting for me. Especially when Kurapika has been in many seasons under the Nostrade Family... it makes me wonder what kind of interactions they had since it was all Killua and Gon on-screen.

2. Hisoka x Machi

I actually had always liked Hisoka with Machi together. Hisoka seems to really like her and enjoys her company. Machi may seem irritated by him but I think she’s more of a tsundere? She still decides to patch him after the fight against Chrollo, and their relationship got a bit more complicated after the Hisoka vs Chrollo fight.

3. Tserreidnich x Theta

Okay, I LOVE this ship. This is right out love-hate kind of relationship. It lowkey reminds me of Clarice/Hannibal and I find this ship so fascinating? I don’t see a lot of fanfics of them unfortunately. So Legacy by Alltagsabenteuer is a blessing from heaven because it’s the only TsexTheta tag in AO3.

So far I haven’t found anyone else who loves this ship, so please identify yourself if you do.

I’m starting to think I like those complicated love-hate dynamics....

HxH ships I like:

Definition of like - Actively ships them, may make fanfics of them or not. But doesn’t think of them 24/7.

1. Pokkle x Ponzu

This was like, a ship that never really sailed because Togashi decided to kill them both. I think this ship had potential and I’m hoping they find happiness in the afterlife.

2. Chrollo x Neon

I actually really liked how they vibe together during this one scene (although Chrollo targetted to meet her for her fortune-telling abilities). I am a KuraNeon shipper but I like the idea of Chrollo being a 3rd party because I think it fits so well? Chrollo and Kurapika are enemies and I had always found it fascinating how both of them got entangled with the same woman.  Also, people be like “Neon is 16″ uhhh... Hunterpedia states she’s born in 1982, along with Kurapika and Milluki. She’s the same age as Kurapika and Milluki; and Kurapika is widely accepted as 19 now; and it does tally if you see the Hunter x Hunter timeline (although there has been several discrepancies and dubious canonity when it comes to the Official Hunter x Hunter database and the HxH manga timeline). I’m not sure why people falsely remember Neon as a year younger than Kurapika and use it as a common argument to not support Chrollo/Neon when people have no problems (except for some) when it comes to shipping Kurapika with Chrollo.

So... Chrollo be that Mr. Steal Yo Girl and Kurapika’s posessive reaction to it will be astronomical.

I am also hella gonna support the upcoming #kuroneoweek2021 in May! @kuroneoweek

So you bet there will be more fanfics of KuroNeo from me!

HxH ships I support:

Definition of support: Does not actively ship them, but definitely likes the idea of them

1. Killua x Canary

I love how Canary tries her best for Killua and she does care about him. I realised that Killua seems to have an issue with older women (e.g. Bisky, Elevator girl), but I think for girls who are about his age, he’s okay with them. There is a misconception that he can’t communicate with women well (probably because he has issues with his mother), but I think that’s just for old ladies - Canary is cool with him.

2. Hisoka x Illumi

It drives me nuts how these two have matching outfits. I know that they have a more of a give-and-take transactional relationships rather than purely friends, but this is fab best friendship goals. My friend loves this ship and I absolutely support it.

3. Retz (with either Gon or Killua)

The unreasonable hate on Retz is insane because “she’s ruining KilluGon”. I think it’s really refreshing to see Killua and Gon hang out with another girl their age. You can see that Gon is really sweet towards her. Killua is more suspicious of her for a good reason but he never hated her. Remember that Killua is not used to interacting with people due to his family background. In fact, as @u-named mentioned, Killua and Retz shares similarities in terms of wanting to be free from their family.

4. Alluka x Gon

I would love to see a fanfic where Gon starts to woo Alluka and Killua will be that overprotective brother, knowing that his best friend is a player. Alluka/Nanika healed Gon anyway, so she’s technically his saving angel.

5. Ging x Gon’s unnamed mom

Okay, this is a bit weird cause we don’t know who Gon’s mom is... (and screw that Pregnancy Stone theory, I just think it’s weird how Ging mentioned Gon’s mom in the tape if he never had a mom lmao; is he gonna say “which you don’t have” like ???).

I actually like fanfics that explores Ging’s life before Gon and various interpretations of who Gon’s mom is.

What Lies Beyond by Thatsoneperson is one of the best fanfics I’ve read when it comes to Ging’s life before Gon. The ending was really heartbreaking and I had always loved the “Gon’s mom was from the DC” theory because Yusuke’s ancestral father came from the Demon World and there were hints of Gon’s dark aura throughout CA and Election arc.

Somehow in my headcanon, I had always envisioned Gon’s mom to resemble Usagi from Sailor Moon but with Gon’s hair colour. Gon also has certain personality traits that are very different from Ging and I believe that came from his mother.

6. Meruem x Komugi

One of the most unexpected, beautiful, saddest, semi-canon pairings in the entire series. It highkey reminds me of Beauty and the Beast. It was beautiful how Meruem, a Chimera Ant that was supposed to be destined to rule the world above humans, became gradually attached to a blind human girl.

7. Killua x Machi

This is fucking weird; because of the age gap but I like to think Killua meets her again one day when he grows up, and they had some sort of flirtation because he needs to be on par with Gon when it comes to dating women.

There was actually a cute fic about that called A Series of Pick Up Lines by Yandere Shoujo where Killua was trying to use pick up lines on a woman because he wanted to try it out after knowing that Gon dated women prior and just so happens to bump into Machi.

[anxiousbean33]

The Black Sails

This is my first story and I hope yall like it! @sitting-around-and-fantasizing wanted a tag so here ya go!

I changed the title, just note that this has nothing to do with the tv show i just thought it was a cool name lmao :P

Word count - 1217

Summary -

Certain people get jewelry that gives them magic. Each person has their own specific power that causes them to gain different abilities. When Ivory becomes queen of her kingdom she starts a war with everyone else. This is the Story of the Hero's of Old fighting against the Kingdom of Darkness.

“DAD! MUM!” the 9-year-old screams, “I DON'T WANT TO GO TO SLEEP”

“UGH! Can you shut up!” his brother shouts, throwing a pillow at him, “Just go to bed!”

“MUM!!!”

“Hey, you two calm down,” their mother says walking into the bedroom. “How about I tell you a story, and then you lay down and go to sleep, deal?”

“But Mum! I’m 16! I’ve read almost every story in the fairytale book, either you have read them to me or I read them myself.”

“It's a good thing that this isn't a story from the book then.” She says while looking at the full moon, “This is a story about The Dark War and the Heros that ended it. Unless you don't want to hear about them, I could just leave and go…”

“NO!!” They shout

“MUM!! TELL ME ABOUT THEM I WANNA BE A HERO AS WELL!!”

“Ok, I will tell you two,” she states while picking up the younger of the two boys, “But only if you promise to go to sleep after, got it?”

“Ok Mum!”

“So two years ago Princess Ivory took over her kingdom, changing it from what was once a beautiful kingdom filled with people dancing and festivities, to the Kingdom of Darkness…”

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

“There are too many people taking advantage of our kingdom!” she screamed at her advisors, “They have no idea the challenges we do to keep them safe! They flood the streets and make constant noise! I give them my protection and in return, they give me these STUPID GIFTS!! I say instead of showing them kindness, and giving the other kingdoms our resources, we do the opposite… we show them just how powerful we truly are.”

“My Queen, are you sure about this?” Ivory's advisor warns, “If we do this, it could end badly for everyone.”

“I am positive. These other kingdoms are nothing without our protection. Get the soldiers. We are going to war.”

“On it, my Queen.”

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

“We need to do something… Her army is approaching, we know how to wield magic and fight without it, we can try to fight against them”

“What about the kids though?” If we do this, my angel, they could be put in danger.”

“We haven't shown anyone our magic, you can shift and I have my wings. We could keep our identities secret and leave to fight at night. If we don't do anything, they could get hurt more.”

“You’re right. But we can't do this alone, we must find more people. You stay here, and I'll fly and check the other kingdoms for fighters. I should be back by next week, if I’m not, something bad has happened to me.”

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

“So who did you say you were again?” the pink-haired man asked while bandaging his wounds from the fight.

“You can call me Lady Death. I am here to recruit you to help join me and my angel in the fight against Ivory and her kingdom.”

“Well, Death, I am perfectly content with how I am now. I don't need you or Angel. None of us do. Hypixel is a place with lots of skilled fighters now I’m sure you know this, but what you don't know is that almost everyone here is willing to fight you and take your circlet and figure out just who you are. Luckily for you, I’m interested, and they won't try to attack you with me on your team.”

“Really? I thought it would take more persuading than that?”

“Yea well Simons been bugging me for ages, saying ‘you need to get out more’ and ‘you need to take the dark kingdom more seriously', so why not help ya out. Call me Blade. It's a pleasure to work with you and Angel.”

“Hey Blade!” another fighter shows up, “Oh my bad, didn't know you were talking to someone. I came to ask if you wanted to fight, but I'll come back in a bit.”

“Wait, Shooter! Do you wanna join me, Death, and Angel? Were gonna stop the dark kingdom nerds.”

“Yeah sure, lemme get a couple of things first. I’ll probably bring GB as well.”

“Ok Shooter, Blade, bring GB and meet me at the fountain tomorrow, we will then head to the base.” Lady Death then turned into her crow form and flew away.

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

“Hey, shithead, have you heard about the revolutionaries?”

“Can you stop swearing in front of our brother...”

“He's asleep, Cap. He can't hear us.”

“.... You called me Cap… You haven't called me that since we were pirates… Oh, god, you're thinking about joining the revolutionaries, aren't you?”

“You know me so well Cap! I think it's time we show that dumb queen that The Captains mean business!”

“What about-”

“We can let Dream take care of him while we are gone. It wouldn't be the first time, he would understand.”

“Ugh… There is no stopping you, I’m coming along to make sure you don't do anything dumb.”

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

“Hello! I am Lady Death, and I would like to say thank you all for showing up here today. When me and Angel planned for this, we honestly expected it to be just us and Blade, but thank you for comping.” She then sits back down by Angel, glad that everything is working out.

“Hey Death, me and Shooter have worked on some battle plans, but imma need to know what people's strengths and weaknesses are, so we can figure out where to place people. I already know about the Captains & GB, but I don't know anything else.”

“Well Blade, I'm Eret, and this is Bomb. Our strengths are…”

The hero’s spent months planning, some staying up full nights to try to get a plan figured out, all whilst battle raged through the towns. Eventually, after around a year of planning and trial and error, the heroes were able to gain a plan that was able to take down Ivory.

The plan consisted of GB, Shooter, & Bomb working to take care of the guards on the left. While the guard’s flood to protect the left side, the Captains are sent up to take down the communications tower. Eret and Death would then head to the prisons to break out everyone who Ivory arrested. Letting Blade and Angel fly to the top of the castle to fight the Queen.

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

“Give it up Ivory” Blade snarls, “You lost.”

“I would rather die than surrender.”

“Just kill her. She is not worth our mercy anyways Blade.”

“You got it, Angel.”

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

“Once Blade killed the queen, the people in the kingdom were set free, some were angry, but most were happy that people were able to travel freely. Although Lady Death, Angel, Blade, Bomb, Shooter, The Captains, and GB were never seen again, it is said in times of need one would see Death as a crow and The Heroes of Old would follow her to fight for the people once again.” closing the book the mother looked up, “Goodnight boys, sleep well.”

After looking once more at her sleeping children, she whispers to the moon, “That's incorrect… Blade would lead first. He is the one with my circlet and Angels brooch.” As Lady Death went to sleep, she missed the sirens, signaling to the people that the Smp Kingdom was under attack.

[bravo-four-seal-team]

An Email with a side of regret.

Summary : 3 months after Ashley spoke to Amelia, thats how long its been, 3 months in captivity, by mid august her and two others from her unit were save, while recovering in medical, she takes Amelia’s advice - she finally reaches out to her brother

Co-written/proof read: @disasterfandoms

Tags: 

@rebelwrites @chibsytelford @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @pinkrockstar19

@softi92 @itsonautopilot @velvetcardiganbucky @mrsmarvelous1995 @supervalcsi @thegirlwhoisalwayswriting  @galaxysanduniversesinmymind

She’s laid up on a gurney, injuries healing, fluids being given, blood is drawn after she was knocked out. Now she was awake, they had 24 hours of observation to get the go-ahead to fly out to the San Diego base to receive further treatment at the base hospital there, then go under the psychological profiling, and then a physical evaluation before being allowed to continue their jobs. 

3 months ago, Gunnery Sergeant Cole, Staff Sergeant Sawyer, and Sergeant Clarkes were taken into captivity after the rest of their unit were killed in an ambush. 3 months of hell on Earth, trying to find ways to get out, or get a message to someone, when another Unit found them and get them back to base.

Which is how they all ended up in the middle of the medical wing. Cole and Clarkes had contacted their family, while Ashley was toying with the idea of reaching out to her brother. 3 months put a lot of things into perspective for her.

 “Fuck, Amelia was right” she grumbled, opening the computer in front of her, and began typing, her mind was all over the place, but one thing she knew she needed to do was to apologize for her actions and anything she did to cause pain. 

At least if she reached out she could say she did, she didn’t expect a response, but she had played her conversation with Amelia over and over in her mind, forcing herself to survive to get home, promising herself to try and fix things. 

“What are you doing over there Sawyer?” Cole asked 

“Writing.”

“To who?”

“My brother” she responded, never looking away from a screen, continuing to type away at the incoming disaster. She could hear shuffling towards her. 

“No mention of family in your file,” Cole said, looking at her, watching as her hands moved across the keyboard, hearing a thump, they watched as their medic walked into a wall and burst into giggles. 

“Yeah well, there wasn't any point in mentioning him Gunny” Ashley responded, “Remember how I said I joined because a family member was hurt?”, stopping to look up at her superior. 

Cole nodded. “Yeah, what are you gonna tell me a tragic backstory?” he asked, laughing at the thought.

“Brother was blown up in 2005, maybe 6 can’t remember, but I was 16. Left the hospital and found out what I needed and joined 2008, he’s Navy, Navy SEALs to be exact” she muttered, resuming her typing. 

“Ah, so the baddest of badasses. Gotcha” Cole smirked, as she shook her head. “Maybe you’ll take me up on that offer of drinks and dinner.” 

“No. You’ve been trying for what? 8-9 years to get me to go out with you, not happening, I don’t date. Focus on the job and that's it.” Ashley said, hitting send 

“You need a life outside of work, and you realize it's about 5 am over there?” Cole frowned

“Well, I doubt he will read it anyway.” 

Ashley, settled down, sleeping for a few hours. She was woken up by a nurse to check her wounds, she read over what she sent. “WHY DID NOBODY STOP ME,” she shouted.

 Cole laughed “You were pretty determined.” 

“I started it off with ‘Sorry to disappoint but I'm very much alive Mark!’” Ashley said gesturing to the screen 

“I mean, humor.” 

She didn’t see the message saying that her email had been opened. 

The email:

To: T.Sawyer@Outlook.com

From: A.C.Sawyer@gmail.com

Subject: Surprise Bitch I lived. (plz open this)

Hey T. or do I start this with Dear Trent Sawyer or Petty Officer Sawyer?

Sorry to disappoint, I'm very much ALIVE. I can hear you now ‘That's not something to joke about Ashley’, yeah I know, just makes it easier. You probably don’t want me calling you T. so I won’t. I'm currently out in Baghdad, with another month of deployment left, then off to another base stateside. Not much going on out here, got me thinking about something someone said, over the past few months, and it ate away at me. I hate when people are right. Amelia was right, that I should have done this ages ago.

(As I am writing this, I just watched Craig walk into a wall, he’s on some good pain meds, our medic is high as a kite. Giggling like a child now.)

Let me begin with, I’m sorry for what I did in 2012, it was a stupid fight, I shouldn’t have said the things I did, I am sorry, I regret it, have done everyday, always expecting a call from Mom saying I was to attend your funeral, that thought terrifies me (Always had, especially after your injury).

I’m not expecting you to respond. Pretend this never came in for all I care, but I need you to know this.

Look the things I said to you Trent was uncalled for, there were times earlier on that I wanted to contact you, but I knew I’d either end up with your wife snapping at me for reaching out or radio silence from you, then mom told me you guys split and I didn’t reach out because, well, I thought I’d just make the wound worse, no point in doing that, don't go pouring salt into an open wound right?

(Can you believe my damn Gunny is still tryna get me to go out on a date with him? I made it clear for the past 8-9 years the answer is No. I’m thinking about punching him.)

Guess I don’t need to worry about you as much anymore if you got people, always say that family doesn’t end in blood, those who help you will be there for you. I caused you a shitload of hassle growing up, then with the fight. Sorry about that. Don’t think I’ll ever stop being sorry about that. Sorry about any hurt I caused, it wasn’t fair on you at all.  

God this is a mess, ha, I’m sorry, you're reading this mess. I didn’t plan this properly, and it’s probably super early for you as well, sorry… I was on base about May time? In Virginia, saw you, avoided you, didn’t want to cause any fights. I mean, Bravo is a tight unit; one word from Hayes, or your CO and it’d be my career on the line for even picking a fight or posing as a threat to a member of your weird little family there (Please get your CO some time off, he looks like he's about to have a nervous breakdown). It was easier to keep in the shadows.

You look like you're doing well, like you got the people in your life that care and worry for you, so that was good to well see and hear, which means I don’t gotta keep an eye out for trouble you get into. Looks like you're dating again as well, she seems nice (Let her know she was right, honestly, I am not happy about her being right.). You seem super happy which is good to see. 

Perhaps we could meet up when I’m back in about 2 months, I got to do a month in San Diego before going back home to Virginia. (For context for why I’ll be out in San Diego, the unit was ambushed, 3 months ago, there were 3 of us to survive, we got found yesterday, which puts life into perspective. Got psych evals and physical evals to do after healing. I fought, they don’t like fighters, man, they hate ‘em.) 

We could grab a drink and catch up, or uh… just check on each other once a month. I’m not looking for you to want to, you know, repair our messed up as hell relationship or reconnect. I know that ship sailed a year after we never contacted each other, again my fault. I'm sorry about it, sorry about all the pain caused. 

Who the hell am I kidding? I’ll send this and never get a response, you can’t fix something that is so broken. Remember what dad would tell us, “if it's unrepairable leave it”, that's what I did to our relationship. I miss having my brother in my life, miss being able to talk to you. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me one day. 

Just look after yourself Trent, don’t let anyone take your happiness away, fight always to get back to your family, to mom, your friends, your girlfriend. Fight always to get back to them. 

Don’t ever give up ok? You fight to get back no matter what. (You don’t break that promise you made me: to fight to come back to your family)

Look after yourself Big Bro. 

Ashley. 

(I’m gonna punch my Gunny now.)

[gryfon-spanish-werewolf]

A Sister Like You

Inspired by this post in which Elsa her 8yo self and Anna is her 18yo Frozen 1 age at the same time, AND @themountainsays ‘s tags about how it could make an interesting bastard!Anna au.

Special shout out to @like-redhead-probably and @daughterofhel for your encouragement! And pssst @jabs-wocks this one is much cuter and fluffier, I promise <3

Edit: Ao3 and FF.net

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The king and queen had a terribly kept secret: their firstborn was a bastard.

It was a terribly kept secret because, well, everyone loved her.

Anna of Arendelle was too much like sunshine on a cloudy day for people to hate her. The cooks loved her because she wasn’t a picky eater like her father, and the maids loved her because she always helped mend the sheets she ripped during her playtime. The gardeners and stablemen loved Anna because she talked to the ducklings and horses and goats, and even the flowers weren’t ignored. The people loved her because she was a bright child who walked among the crowds in the market and bought pastries from the local baker with a smile full of missing baby teeth. Anna danced with the town’s children during the festivals and chased after ships until the end of the dock as they set sail.

And perhaps most importantly, her parents loved her - one of blood and one of adoptive heart. They promised to care for the little red-headed baby as their own, regardless of what people said. 

Truly, Anna was a light in the dark, even as a toddler, a fire in the midst of winter during her childhood years, and that warmth only soared to bonfire heat with the birth of the first true princess, her little sister, Elsa.

Anna’s love for Elsa was similarly earned in the way it was passed to her: instantly, freely, and without hesitation.

Elsa was born in the midst of a terrible winter storm that ended as soon as Anna was let into the birthing room. The king was right behind her, kissing his wife’s head sweetly as they peered down at their second daughter. The question was asked if Anna wanted to hold her little sister and Anna nodded furiously, already getting a leg up on the bed. They laid Elsa in her arms and Anna's eyes filled with wonder at the tiny bundle. She sat completely frozen, not wanting to move or change her position lest she disturb Elsa. The babe fussed and grabbed Anna’s small finger in an even smaller fist. Everyone in the room fawned over the action.

“She’ll be queen, right?” The king and queen exchanged a glance, hesitant. Anna had not seemed put out by the fact that she would never officially rule, but she was only ten, and they weren’t sure if that would always be the case.

The king cleared his throat. “Yes, darling. She will.”

Anna looked back down at her baby sister. Looked at her like she was her whole world. Elsa hiccupped a little and Anna smiled her blinding smile.

“I can’t wait,” she said, wiggling her trapped finger back and forth so Elsa turned towards the motion. “She’s gonna be great! And I’m gonna help her!”

The mood shifted instantly and everyone relaxed, rejoicing. Elsa’s forehead wrinkled at all the noise and she began to wail until Anna soothed her, shushing all the adults with a serious tone. They did, but not without some laughter.

And then Elsa sneezed.

Frost dusted Anna’s twin braids and bangs. She blinked. Everyone stared in complete shock. A small snowflake fell delicately from nowhere to land on the tip of Anna’s nose. In her arms, Elsa made little noises of satisfaction and nestled herself further into Anna’s hands before falling asleep.

“I take it back,” Anna whispered excitedly while the room found their tongues. “She’s going to be the best!”

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

In the middle of the night, Anna crept through the darkened hallways of Arendelle castle, easing the door of her parents’ room open. She lifted, with some effort, the door from the bottom with her toe so it wouldn’t squeak and give her away. She closed it just the same, sidling over to the crib along the far wall. Voices came from the opposite side of the room, in the connected bathroom.

They were arguing. Again.

She couldn’t remember them arguing when she was little, but Anna wasn’t sure that was because they hadn’t, or because they’d not had a reason to.

Because now they were always arguing about Elsa.

Anna dragged the stepstool up to the side of the crib. Elsa was deeply asleep, mumbling vague syllables as Anna rocked her bed gently with her knee. Half a year had passed and Elsa kept getting bigger everyday. Her hair was growing out, her cheeks were soft and pudgy (“Just like yours!” The staff would often remind Anna), and she had started to laugh and laugh and laugh at all of Anna’s antics. Anna was utterly enchanted by her, her little sister was genuine magic.

And of course, Elsa was literally magic, too.

Raised voices rebounded around the walls as the king and queen found new ground to battle over. Anna saw Elsa’s lower lip wobble and put her hand down into the crib so Elsa could hold it. With her other hand she touched the bandages around her head.

“It’s okay,” Anna murmured, “I know it was an accident.”

They’d been playing Peek-a-Boo.

Anna had surprised Elsa for the hundredth time with a joyful, “Here I am!”, only this time Elsa had placed her hand on Anna’s temple as she giggled and there was a flash of white. The next thing Anna knew she was on horseback, jostled back and forth in the king’s lap. They rode hard, to a clearing she didn’t recognize. Creatures rolled out of the mist and popped open, revealing themselves to be trolls. Anna would have been excited under normal circumstances, but the looks on the king and queen’s faces, and the fact that Elsa was crying her tiny lungs out, had her clamping down on any questions.

The adults talked, human and troll alike, but Anna was having a hard time paying attention. Elsa was so far away, upset, and she couldn’t reach her. Her body felt stiff and cold, especially her head. She couldn’t stop shivering. One of the trolls saw her reach out from the king’s arms and told everyone that Anna was awake.

The old troll informed her gravely that her life was in danger, that Elsa’s power would only continue to grow. He showed her images with his magic: a figure in blue turning water to ice, then being pounced upon by figures in red. They were beautiful, and frightening, making Anna’s heart pound sluggishly in her chest. The queen and king said the troll could do whatever he needed to save Anna’s life and protect Elsa from such a fate. The troll approached Anna, with more magic shining in his rocky palm, and said that everything would be fine, that it was just her head and not her heart. He chuckled humorously.

“Much better to lose a few memories than your life.”

Anna refused.

The adults sputtered.

“Will I remember Elsa?”

“Yes, of course but-”

“Will I remember her magic?”

“The magic is what did the damage, and to remove it I would remove-”

“Then no.”

And she wouldn’t hear it any other way, even as her body grew colder and the vision on her right fractured and split. A frozen headache pulsed at her temple, spreading rapidly across her skull. Still, Anna sought out the sound of Elsa’s voice, even though others were getting in the way. She couldn’t tell who was who. Some of them wanted the troll to do it anyway, that Anna was just a child, only ten, and didn’t know better. Some wanted Anna’s wishes to be respected, that perhaps there was another way. Even more worried about the future, the kingdom, what it might mean to have a queen with powers… or a bastard without memories of them.

What were the consequences of hiding Elsa’s powers from the public? What were the repercussions of making the same mistake over and over, if Anna was literally unable to remember the danger?

So many questions, so many voices.

All of them wanted her to live.

Anna took air into small lungs embedded with ice shards, speaking softly but clearly even as fatigue stole over her.

“Elsa’s powers are a part of her. Forgetting them means I’m forgetting part of Elsa. I don’t want that. How can I help her if I don’t know her?”

--

When Anna next awoke she was in her room back at the castle, wrapped solidly in blankets. Summer sunlight filtered through the curtains, bright and cheerful. She thought perhaps it had all been a dream, and she’d been allowed a rare day to sleep in.

In fact here was Gerda, thankfully with breakfast, walking through the door. Anna sat up to make space and shot her a cheerful, “Good morning!”

Gerda dropped everything she was carrying in one huge clatter and rushed to Anna’s side, burying her in a deep hug.

“Oh, my little Princess!” She always called Anna that, even though she wasn’t really. “We thought we were going to lose you!”

Anna went to protest but spied her reflection in the mirror over Gerda’s shoulder. Her hair was it’s usual post-slumber mess, but this time instead of it being held away from her face by sheer luck, it was by bandages.

Gerda set about getting her dressed and fed and ready for the day. She did Anna’s hair last of all, delicately peeling away the strips of cloth. It hurt a little, but not too bad. Anna wasn’t sure what she expected to see as the source of the pain, but that wasn’t it.

“Did I get some of the powdered sugar in my hair?” She asked.

Gerda looked sad, gazing at Anna through her reflection. “No my dear, that’s…” She paused, deliberating. Anna touched the white streak at her temple, following it back where it disappeared behind her ear.

“I don’t know all the details,” Gerda finally continued, “but I’m told you were very brave.”

Anna watched Gerda comb the white streak into her braid and remembered.

And to her everlasting relief… she remembered everything.

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

Anna and Elsa grew up, little by little, leap by leap. Space was cleared out in Anna’s room for Elsa’s bed and things, but by that time they were already inseparable. From the moment Elsa could walk she followed Anna everywhere. Laughter was common, and anyone in the castle who caught an earful of it drifting and caterwauling through the halls always gave a smile. Unless it was followed by the sound of something breaking, then it was usually a kickstart to a sprint.

As Anna edged into her teenage years things got… a little silly. Now at ages fifteen and five, the girls could get into all kinds of mischief. Nothing terrible of course, mostly playing knights in the hallways with the armor and freezing their tutor’s inkwell after a particularly difficult day of study. But then of course, there was the time Elsa made sleeping versions of them to fool people into thinking they were tucked away for the night, only to get caught sneaking into the fjord waters for a late night swim. Or the time Anna pretended Elsa was sick and was only taking requests through the door - requests that included chocolate cake, chocolate chip cookies, hot chocolate (in summer), chocolate mousse…

The future that the king and queen feared never came to pass; Elsa’s powers indeed grew as she did, but they were tempered with the practice that came along with frequent use, namely entertaining herself and her older sister. Anna never got tired of watching Elsa, “Do the magic,” and Elsa never got tired showing her.

Anna’s sunny disposition never wavered even when others thought it might, when, despite their closeness, familial bonds, and education, Anna’s status as an out of wedlock child started to become more frequently pronounced. If anything, Elsa took more offense to her sister being addressed as, “Lady Anna,” while she got “Princess Elsa”, than Anna ever did.

“But you are a princess!” Elsa protested one night. They were both in their respective beds, across from each other, flat on their backs as they watched the hues of the Northern Lights waver over their ceiling.

“I’m technically half adopted,” Anna clarified.

“What does that mean?”

“It means one of our parents isn’t my flesh and blood parent, even though I call them Mama and Papa just like you do.”

“That’s so weird,” and Anna could hear Elsa’s frown from her side of the room. “Which one?”

Anna shrugged. “I dunno. It’s not like I haven’t wondered, but it just, never seemed to matter enough to ask.”

“I could ask.”

“No, sweetheart, you don’t have to.”

“But I wanna know!”

Anna sighed. She watched the lights dance a moment before saying, “I don’t.”

“Oh…” Elsa went quiet. “Can I ask why?”

“Sure you can.”

A few seconds passed before Elsa huffed irritably and Anna grinned in the dark. “Why don't you want to know?”

“I want to be mysterious,” Anna teased.

“Anna!”

“What? If you get to be queen, then I want to be the spooky, strange older sibling!”

She expected a laugh but was met with silence.

“...Did you wanna be queen?”

Anna opened her mouth to reply how she always did, but stopped. This was her sister, not some dignitary in a hushed tone or some drink toting duchess at a dinner party. She deserved a real answer.

“No,” Anna said finally, “not really anyway. Even when I was little I didn’t dream of holding Papa’s scepter or wearing Mama’s crown. I felt like that was their thing, and you had your thing! And I was… am, happy just being me.”

“Is that because you really never thought about it, or because someone told you it would never be yours?”

Anna’s brows knit together and she sat up quickly. “Hey,” she smirked, “who said you could be a five-year-old philosopher?”

“Sorry!” Elsa sat up too, her arms hugging her bed sheet covered legs. “I just think you’d be really good at it!”

“Good at it?” Elsa nodded, the Lights roaming through her hair. “What makes you say that?”

“Well…,” Elsa began rolling her hands in a circular motion. A small ball of twinkling snow appeared between her hands, rotating gently. She did this whenever she was thinking. “You’re smart and patient and kind. You’re always explaining things to me, and telling me stories. You help me when I’m mad at my homework or miss a stitch while sewing. You’re always thinking of new games to play, you read me books and take me out into the town for a day of fun! And you always save some of your peas from dinner for the ducks in the pond. You claim it’s because you hate vegetables but really it’s because you know it’s their favorite snack.

“But as much as you teach,” Elsa continued, the snowball spinning and sparking, “you also listen. You know everybody in the whole castle’s birthday. A sailor told you that he always missed the baker’s lun epleterte when he was out at sea, and now the baker always has extra when he sees that ship come home. Kai mentioned once that his favorite flowers hadn’t bloomed yet in the garden so you staked out the hedge for weeks. The moment they bloomed you ran to go find him, a few flowers already in your hands. You’re very-,” Elsa paused, her hands stopping too. Her lips twitched in annoyance. “I don’t know the word. But you know people and you care about them, and I think that would make you a great queen.”

The little snowball shrunk and disappeared, returning the room to the flickering patterns of pinks, blues, and greens of the Lights. Anna propped her head and elbow up on her thigh. “Hmm, I suppose you’re right. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m not really interested, and even if I were, I still couldn’t.”

Elsa waved her hand dismissively. “When I’m queen I’ll just make you queen too.”

Anna scoffed, though not without humor. “That’s not how it works.”

“Says who? I’ll be queen! Who’s gonna say no?” Elsa barreled on, not waiting for Anna’s response. “It’ll be perfect: I’ll be Queen, you’ll be Royal-Big-Sister-Queen, and then you and I can both do whatever we want! We’ll be perfect together!”

“‘Royal-Big-Sister-Queen’? That’s not a thing.”

“It will be,” Elsa replied confidently. Anna exhaled heavily, a smile on her lips. Elsa noticed her lack of enthusiasm. “Okay, I’ll work on a better title but…, I just don’t want people thinking that you’re not part of my family.”

Anna’s eyes softened. “C’mere you.”

Elsa kicked off her covers, grabbed the stuffed penguin Anna had made for her fourth birthday, and ran on bare feet to Anna’s bedside. She lifted her arms and Anna picked her up, nestling her close. “It will never matter what other people say about me, because I know that the family that chose me, and that I choose right back everyday, loves me very much, and just wants me to be happy.”

Anna ran her pinkie softly down the bridge of Elsa’s nose. Her little sister blinked drowsily when Anna did it again. “What do you think about that?” She asked quietly.

“I think… you’re my best friend-older sister,” Elsa said softly as sleep dragged at her, “who tries to put her cold feet on my back when we sleep together, always forgetting that I can’t feel the cold.”

Anna chuckled low in her chest. “And I think you are my sweet-but-silly little sister,” she replied, tweaking Elsa’s nose which made her giggle, “who is always stealing the blankets despite claiming she’s never cold, leaving me to freeze to death.”

Elsa cuddled closer to Anna, yawning fiercely. “I promise I’ll share them tonight. Pre-Queen’s honor.”

Anna put a hand to her chest. “That’s a big promise, your Almost-Majesty. How do you know you’ll keep it?”

Elsa already had her eyes closed and her head on Anna’s pillow. “Because I love you.”

Anna smiled warmly. She scooched lower and drew the covers up over her shoulder, planting a kiss on Elsa’s forehead as she got settled.

“I love you too. And I still will, even when I wake up tomorrow and all the covers are on your side of the bed.”

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

Elsa never did come up with a better title for Anna’s rise to royalty. Not that she didn’t have time; to most people three years is quite the span, but for children and young adults it may well have been the blink of an eye. And it certainly felt like no time at all when Kai knocked on their door, parchment in hand and tears in his eyes, to deliver the news that their parents had died at sea.

Anna was eighteen, and Elsa, heir to the throne, only eight.

The funeral was delayed until proper mourning attire could be fashioned for such young women. The headstones were grand but simple. After the rain and the prayers, Anna and Elsa walked back to their room, silent. Anna worked on autopilot: helping Elsa disrobe, comb out her hair, put her in sleepwear. Until she felt the ghost of a memory, not long past, of her hugging the queen and king around the waist, expressing her wish to see them soon. The last time she’d ever touched them.

She heard Elsa sniffle beneath her hand, and caught sight of their reflection in the mirror. Tears dripped out of red-rimmed eyes as Elsa’s hard fought composure (already so heavy for a child) fell apart at Anna’s momentary lapse in normality. Then they were holding each other close, fingers digging into clothing and faces pressed close together.

They slept in the same bed for months.

But during that time an uncomfortable question arose. One that, out of respect for tradition, should have waited, but realistically speaking, couldn’t.

Who was in charge now?

Obviously no one expected an eight-year-old to be officially running a country, especially since her Coronation Day was over a decade away. And while Elsa had already Ascended to ruling status, legally she wasn’t making the rules, and it couldn’t be advisors forever. Especially not after the period of mourning, which at max placed Elsa at twelve. She would be involved in ongoing diplomatic and national matters of course, as she would have been anyway, though now to a larger degree, but the fact of the matter was that Elsa was a child.

She still had a bedtime.

And it couldn’t be Anna… could it? She had the training, the disposition. Even if she’d never desired it personally, could she be persuaded to step up, even if it was, in the end, invisibly? The advisors knew that generally speaking, the people of Arendelle would not turn their backs on Anna being their ruler in Elsa’s place, but politically, they felt the pressure of putting the correct outward face on their country.

Anna walked past two advisors, picking holes in the same arguments she’d heard for weeks, and closed her ears to it all. If they --the crown, the staff, the castle-- needed her help, she’d do it in a heartbeat, but right now, she was more concerned with the remaining family she had left.

Namely, finding her before her upcoming royal duties.

They were starting slow. A few of the old guardsmen had retired, and today was their replacement’s first day on the job. Elsa, as queen, was supposed to formally greet them and thank them for their service. Fairly straightforward, all things considered, but Anna had seemingly lost track of Elsa after breakfast and between a few meetings of her own, and now was looking for her little sister.

Well, she was pretending to look. Anna knew exactly where to find her sister, but she gathered that, with all the fuss over dress and ceremony, Elsa may want just a few extra seconds to be alone, not being touched by people’s hands or her hair pulled by combs or set in tight braids and buns along her head.

But they couldn’t delay forever. Anna tapped a special rhythm on the door to their room, hearing a muted, “Come in!” from the other side.

As she entered, Anna’s breath caught in her throat.

Elsa was dressed like, well…

She looked just like Mama.

“Gerda says if I keep my steps high, I won’t trip on my cape,” Elsa said, spinning to show off the purple floor length cape. “But I can’t walk normally if I do that, I look like a puffed up frog!”

A little tiara nestled in her snow-blonde hair bounced light around the room as Elsa shifted. A fleck caught in Anna’s eye and she blinked harshly, bringing her back to the moment.

“Good thing you only have to walk a few feet,” Anna agreed, closing the door behind her and striding up to her sister. “You’ll be the best dressed frog in the room.”

Elsa folded her arms and scowled, looking very queenly indeed. “I’m surprised you’re the one saying that, considering what you’re wearing today,” and she gestured up and down at her sister.

It was true, Anna was wearing a dress that was almost entirely green from top to bottom, excluding the bodice which was black. The pleats of her skirt were alternating shades of green, the only spots of color otherwise being the rosemaling against the black silk on her chest and abdomen. Anna looked down then back up, and grinned. “I guess you’re right. You’ll have to teach me how to walk then. Does it look something like this?”

She marched dramatically in place, all high knees and right angled elbows, a look of comic determination on her face. To her delight, and relief, Elsa burst into giggles. She held her two gloved hands up in front of her mouth.

That was the Elsa she knew.

“You’re going to embarrass me, Anna,” Elsa laughed.

“Lucky for me, that’s the older sibling’s job.” Anna put her hands on her hips. “Ready to go?”

Elsa’s smile dropped, looking down at her outfit. “I look like I am.”

Anna crouched down to be level with Elsa. “You certainly do,” she said softly. “You look beautiful. But I asked if you were ready.” Elsa didn’t meet her eye, instead fidgeting with her hands and wringing the soft blue leather of her gloves.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be,” Elsa confessed, downcast.

Anna acknowledged that with a little hum. “Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not for a long time. But I think that’s okay too, it just means you’re still willing to learn. And you know, you’re not alone. You’ve got Kai and Gerda and all the staff, you’ve got the tutors and experts and all the other adults that know what to do. And, you know,” Anna shrugged, “you’ve got me, too. So I’m pretty sure it won’t be a complete disaster.”

Elsa looked up. “Really?”

“Positive,” Anna winked. She pinched her pointer finger and thumb close together. “Just a little one.”

Elsa laughed again and shoved Anna’s hand away. “Okay, okay, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

“After you,” Anna said grandly, opening the door wide for Elsa with a sweeping bow. Elsa shook her head, then squared her shoulders and tilted her chin back, adopting the posture she’d learned over many lessons of how to walk like a queen. Anna sheltered the little spark of pride inside her heart, and the flicker of sadness that came along with it.

They started to make their way down the long hall, Anna a step behind to Elsa’s right, as was expected. As they neared the halfway point, Elsa’s pace slowed, and Anna noticed immediately.

She tapped Elsa on the shoulder and gently took her hand.

Elsa glanced ahead and behind furtively. “I… shouldn’t.”

“I know but, you don’t have to be ‘Queen-queen’ until we turn that corner, so…” Anna ran her thumb across the back of Elsa’s gloved hand, “You can keep holding my hand until then.”

Elsa squeezed back. “And after that? Where will you be?”

Anna beamed.

“Right next to you. And after that? Wherever you need me to be.”

[marimos]

Underwing Challenge  ➳ Day Six

What does your portfolio look like? Talk about as many other WIPs as you’d like here.

I Know the End my beloved 💞 This wip ruined my camp nano plans, I was gonna work on drafting an older novel idea that’s been haunting me for months but ���character offered sainthood in exchange for the life of her blasphemous best friend” grabbed me and would not let go. Still in the early stages of writing.

Genre: litfic POV: first person, with another referred to as “you” Setting: a small town, Ontario Themes: coming of age, change vs tradition, complicated friendships Content warnings: cults, religious & parental abuse, internalized homophobia

Summary: When Isabelle returns from her family vacation after a long three months away, Bridgette expects that all will be well between them. But when Isabelle starts couchsurfing and telling Bridgette she’s left their church behind, Bridgette begins having visions of the world engulfed in flames with Isabelle at the centre. God speaks to her from the flames of a burning bush and in the morning light from her bedroom window; Mary Magdalene guides her hand; Joan of Arc assures her her cause is righteous. As the day Isabelle leaves town approaches, Bridgette struggles with the task God has given her, and if Isabelle’s life is worth more to her than the scorched earth she sees in her dreams.

wip tag / pinterest board

This idea is so new the main character doesn’t even have a name yet skjfs “The Boy” is a placeholder, though I do wanna incorporate government reports, news articles, etc so it might show up again there. Planning stage.

Genre: scifi, horror POV: first person Setting: east coast Canada, a fishing town Themes: coexistence, change and transformation, boy and his alien but fucked up Content warnings: neglectful parents, potential body horror, violence, death

Summary: Five kilometres off the coast of eastern Canada, Something crashes into the ocean. A week later, a fish washes up on the beach with odd coloration and a disfigured fin. Two days after that, Something reaches the shore.

The Boy is the first human infected. Soon, it leeches into the ground, infects the water supply, the food, the animals. Not all is so bad though; The Boy’s mother is out of bed for the first time in weeks, gleeful like he’s never seen her. The changes are subtle at first, even helpful, but his mother soon becomes dangerous and the stable, familiar life The Boy once knew is lost to the mutations plaguing his town.

Desperate, The Boy sails into the ocean towards the landing point, searching for something, anything, to explain what’s happening. What he finds beneath the still water is unlike anything he’s seen before. And it recognizes him.

wip tag / pinterest board

The Orpheus + Eurydice story has always been one of my favourite Greek myths and I’m so so so excited to finally make some progress on this wip now that camp nano is over! It was initially going to be my secondary camp nano project but that spot was taken over by I Know the End, which is probably good because I didn’t really feel equipped to write a Greek retelling in one month anyway lmfao.

Genre: myth retelling, tragedy POV: third person Setting: ancient greece Themes: love and loss, fleeting happiness, grief Content warnings: death, some homophobia, violence

Summary: Stepping off the Argo into an unfamiliar land, Orpheus falls headfirst in love with the nymph Eurydice after she attends one of her shows. Entranced by Eurydice’s voice, Orpheus transforms her travelling act of one into a duo, charming all those throughout Greece, and before long, they marry.

However, tragedy strikes the very day of their wedding -- Eurydice succumbs to a snake bite while fleeing an unwelcome suitor, and Orpheus is left to mourn. With the gods urging her on, Orpheus makes a deal with Zeus and pursues Eurydice into the realm of the dead, determined to bring her lost wife home.

wip tag / pinterest board

[capricornus-rex]

A Shadow of What You Used to Be (8)

Chapter 8: Ensnared | Cal Kestis x Irele Skywalker

Summary: There is another! Years after young Anakin Skywalker departed Tatooine, his mother Shmi delivers a second child—this time, a daughter. Whilst the circumstance of the girl’s birth remains unexplained, Irele Skywalker has yet to choose the true path between those laid out for her.

Tags: Fem! OC, Irele Skywalker, Force-sensitive! OC, Anakin’s Younger Sister, Skywalker! OC, Darth Vader’s Secret Apprentice, Long-lost Sibling

A/N: Hi guys, I’m happy that you’re enjoying the story so far! But I have to let you know that I’ll be in a quick pause from publishing chapters for a while because I have to drop off my laptop in the shop again to have my new SSD put in (because I don’t know how to do it myself). They said it might take five working days, but that will still depend on my place in line. So this might be the last chapter for now, but I hope I get this baby back soon!

Requesting to be tagged: @heavenly1927​

Also in AO3

Chapters: Prelude – 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 | Previous: Part 7 | Next: Part 9 | Masterlist

9 of ?

“Hey, Irele, I got a job for us!” the Twi’lek boy, Frelik, panted as he supported himself on the arch of their door, as if he came sprinting from the town to their house in the salt flats.

“For who? Where? When!?” Irele bombarded back, and luckily Frelik answered all questions.

Irele looked over his shoulder, he had reached her house using the sand skimmer that all five of them worked together on. She told them to wait, hurried back inside, jumping to the floor from the first landing of the stairs to the rotunda and sprinted to her bedroom. She was all over the place—flashing from one side of the room to the other, swiping her pack with her tools and her scarf lying in different spots.

“I’m going out!” she announced in a voice loud enough for Owen and Beru to hear, wherever they were, and there was no time for either husband or wife to respond. They just heard the door whiz open and then shut.

Another wrangling job with her friends. It was a normal day, but it was something she enjoyed.

They’ve traveled about ten miles east of Mos Espa. The skimmer did its job, it resembles perhaps a smaller rendition of the complementary hovercraft that comes with a sail barge. Through his binoculars, Frelik spotted a cluster of brown speckles in the sand—a Bantha herd, he had found. Their quarry.

“Drello, full speed ahead!” cried out the tan-skinned Twi’lek to the human male. The boy cranked the lever of the motor and they pulled forward.

They stopped their skimmer in a safe distance, atop a small hill that overlooks the Banthas gathered around a watering hole—a rare sight in this planet. After peering through the lens, Frelik handed the binoculars to no one in particular, Irele took it out of his hands.

“Those aren’t domesticated, alright,” she panned slightly to her right. “We can slide our way down there. We’ll have enough cover so they won’t be startled by us.”

Before they got themselves on the move, Irele scanned the area for any signs of Tusken Raiders. It was not uncommon to have a run-in with Tuskens who were also trying to wrangle up mounts for their numbers; should that happen, the most logical—and only—move is to try your luck for another herd. A group of adult Tuskens versus a small band of children are in no good odds whatsoever.

“We’re clear. We’re the only ones here,” she reassured then returned the binoculars to Frelik. They sprinted back to the skimmer to retrieve their sleds and boards.

“I’m gonna ruin your win streak today, Irele!” prided Drello.

She clapped back after pulling her goggles down and smirked, “We’ll see about that!”

The children ran to the edge of the slope, the Twi’lek siblings shared a sled, Heeda—the other human female besides Irele—had her own sled that can only fit her. Golden blonde and sandy brown tinted the girl’s hair, and a bright-eyed face that proves her to be the youngest of the group, being only a year behind Irele.

A trail of sand plumed as they zipped down. It was a collective skill for them to resist squealing and cheering in delight as they slide down a two- to three-mile long sand slide. Irele and Drello surfed with a quiet confidence in the middle of this friendly competition between the two of them; sweving and leaving snake-trails along the sand, as one overtook the other.

Show off! Said each teenager in their heads, referring to the other.

Only a few meters remain before the group lands on flat grounds. They hopped out of their rides and hurried behind the rocks.

“I thought you were gonna beat my streak, Drello?” jeered Irele.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever!” the boy chide, and the girl snickered under her breath.

Another cautionary look through the lens before they approach the herd and then they scrambled to their positions. For every job they took together, there was always a harmony amongst them, a testament to their three to four years of friendship forged by their odd job life.

As always, Irele was in charge of the actual wrangling—along with Drello and Frelik. The two other girls’ jobs were to tranquilize the animals should any of them escape or refuse to be mounted.

The three vaulted over the rocks, leaving Heeda and Venee—Frelik’s sister—behind. Producing ropes out of their packs as they prowled quietly in the Banthas’ blind spots. Given the beast’s width, the children are practically invisible if they stay directly behind them. They became slower when they crept slower, the ropes primed into a lasso. In all their years in practice of this dangerous trade, they’ve mastered how to cleanly hoop the rope around the Bantha’s thick, spiraling horns.

A solid tug indicated that their ropes have rung around the base of the horns, they jumped onto the giants’ backs. Drello’s Bantha bucked its massive head, attempting to wriggle the rope off. Unfortunately, the boy had caught perhaps a more aggressive one than the rest of the herd; and to add insult to injury, his ropes have tangled around his leg and a few strands of the Bantha’s fur caught along with it.

“Drello, hold on!”

“Irele!” Drello yelped. “HELP!”

“Stay still!”

Seeing the trouble from their post, Heeda and Venee primed their dart guns.

“Wait for my signal, Heeda,” Venee warned. Fives seconds when they saw a clear shot, “Now!”

Two darts charged with a strong dosage of tranquilizer pierced their way through the Bantha’s curtain of fur and thick hide. The girth of the needle was thick enough to penetrate the animal’s skin. Drello’s Bantha seemed to have slowed down and the boy finally won some control over the beast.

“Troublemaker, are ya?! I’ll sell you to the first butcher I see in town!” grumbled a vexed Drello.

“Aw come on, don’t be like that!”

“What? He was the one who tried to buck me off while my leg’s caught in the rope,”

“Maybe he doesn’t like you,” Frelik suggested jokingly and the rest of the children giggled in agreement.

For the Banthas who didn’t put up much of a fight and were tamer, Irele suggested strapping their skimmer to the beasts.

“Since they got ropes around their horns anyway, we can just tie the other end on the winch!” she suggested, and everyone loved the fun idea.

There were no objections from her friends. In fact, they were all in on it! Heeda and Venee wanted to the ride bareback on the Bantha while the other three would sit in the skimmer. All five teenagers giggled in excitement and delight as their idea is about to be put into play, until Irele’s smile vanished, she flinched when she felt a needle prick the back of her shoulder.

“This is PG-957, target has been found and marked.” a sinister, muffled voice spoke through his comlink gauntlet.

No one noticed the tiny dart that had landed in her shoulder, but she easily swatted it off like it was some kind of debris. Little did she know that the tiny bullet that hit her packed such a punch. In her easterly side, she saw two distant figures calling out to her. The first figure waved a piece of cloth to get her attention, the second cupped their mouth with their hands to amplify their voice.

Irele!! Come quick!

“Hey, Irele, what’s wrong?” Frelik asked as he noticed his friend has suddenly gotten quiet.

“Smoke?” she muttered under her breath.

She squinted her eyes, sheltered her head with her scarf and confirmed that a pillar of smoke was in the distance as the Banthas pulled their skimmer.

“Do you see that?” she asked to no one in particular.

“See what?”

“That! That column of smoke over there!”

Frelik and Drello exchanged confused glances, and then back to Irele who had her back turned to them.

She squinted again, the two figures appeared to have gotten closer to where they are, and she could hear their voices.

IRELE, HURRY, IT’S YOUR FAMILY!!

“My home!” she bursts.

“Whoa, hey, Irele, where are you going!?” Drello tried to stop her by grabbing her sleeve but she slipped away.

Irele literally jumped out of a moving skimmer, taking her things with her as well.

“Irele, hey! Come back!” Heeda screeched.

“Where is she going!?” Venee exclaimed.

“There’s nothing over there!” Frelik insisted to his friend as he—along with his companions—watched her sprint into the distant nothingness.

Irele sprinted as fast as she could, those two figures materialized into a pair of older human males. Her friends literally lost her in the desert just when they were about to make their way back to Mos Espa, where they client awaits.

“I can’t see her anymore! Frelik, can you!?”

The Twi’lek growled in frustration, “No, she went straight into the storm!”

“Is she crazy!?” his sister protested.

“We have to go after her!” Heedra insisted.

“We’re not equipped for a sandstorm, Heeda, we can’t turn around. We have to get back to town and get shelter!” Drello argued.

They have no choice. They continued in their original path but they wordlessly promised that they’d come back for her.

Irele followed the direction of the smoke, knowing that it’s coming from the homestead. The adrenaline made her forget the aching of her legs, exhausted from running. She cared not if her friends didn’t believe her, her vision narrowed to the direction of her house. She didn’t even notice that the two males she followed were out of her sight.

The tower of black smoke got bigger as she closed the distance further. At the top of her parched lungs, she cried out for her family.

“OWEN!! BERU!!” she screeched.

She caught sight of her homestead in flames—or so she thinks—the dirty white dome of her house was charred black, a gaping hole put into the front door, the machines in their rotunda had been blown up, and tattered rags scattered across the front of the house.

“No…” she gasped. “NO!! OWEN! BERU! WHERE ARE YOU!?”

She repeated these three names, but an answer did not come.

Irele… a voice called to her.

“Owen!?”

Irele… do not fight it. It instructed her. It was a deep, ominous voice, and after the last word, a sharp robotic breath followed.

She recognizes that voice anywhere. She’s heard it in her nightmares, during the nights where she cannot sleep.

“No… No… Bring them back!” she cried.

She did not know it was an illusion. The sniper who had planted the needle into her flesh had followed the girl aimlessly going into an incoming sandstorm.

Poor Irele spun around in a panic, thinking that she was standing in the premises of her home, when in fact that she was standing in the first few inches of the storm. It was all a blur in her eyes, but she persisted looking for her family. The sniper, a trooper with a unique black armor, watched the poor girl spin until she got dizzy and weak.

Meanwhile, Darth Vader remained unmoving in his meditation chamber, dead center in the black, cold floor. He could hear Irele’s cries, her screaming of Owen and Beru’s names, and he could feel the hot, prickling wind that swats her face. The leather of his gloves squeaked as he tightened his already-closed fists.

Irele…

“No…” she exhaled one last time. “Bring them… back…”

“Target incapacitated. Requesting transport.” The trooper reported and was answered by an incoming transport craft to retrieve the trooper and a knocked out Irele.

–

The storm had eventually died down, but the teenagers’ anxiety did not.

Once they’ve gotten rid of the Banthas, they instantly hopped back on their skimmer and retraced their steps to the location where they lost Irele.

The sandstorm had erased her tracks, but they followed the direction where she aimlessly ran to.

Frelik heavily relied on his binoculars to find any sign of Irele. They had gotten far enough from the path they took when the Banthas pulled their skimmer. Drello may not be the most skilled wrangler, but he was a good tracker.

“We were here when she started talking funny, saying that she sees smoke when there’s nothing at all,” Drello pointed out the subtle indents of their skimmer and the Banthas’ hooves. He then angled his body to his easterly side, mimicking Irele’s position before she ran off. “And then she ran off there.”

“It’s strange,” Frelik added. “I heard her say the word ‘Home’ before she ran… but her house is in that direction.”

“Maybe the heat got to her?” Heeda theorized.

Frelik shook his head, “We didn’t even stay out that long, Heeda.”

“Come on, talking will take us nowhere!” Venee grunted. “Drello, what can you take from here?”

“We go to that direction,”

The skimmer hovered in a steady, leisurely pace; they were careful not to miss anything. The wind picked up as they got farther, a minor aftermath of the sandstorm in the middle of its calm; on his right, Frelik spotted something fluttering in the distance.

“Look! Drello turn us over there,”

Drello went straight ahead for that fluttering brown shape in the wind. Heeda picked it up and they all gathered around it.

“This is Irele’s scarf,” Venee mumbled pessimistically

“Then she must be close!” Heeda’s hopefulness contrasted the Twi’lek girl’s mood.

With only her lost scarf as a clue, it took the group all day trying to find her. The sunset beckoned them to stop. It never crossed their mind that they have to tell this to Owen and Beru, and they were scrambling over on what to tell them, how to say and explain it all, and that they’ll witness firsthand the wrath of Owen Lars—as well as his grief.

Reluctant, they drove their skimmer to the Lars homestead, with only a piece of Irele to bring home to her family. Up to now, not one of them have decided who will speak to Owen—neither do they have the courage to walk up to the front door.

They agreed that they go together, however, they hesitate to come an inch closer.

Eventually, Owen appeared out of the door.

“Oh, good thing you kids are back before dark.”

Silence from the children. Drello clutched onto Irele’s scarf so hard that it creased.

Owen’s eyes shifted left to right, counting in his mind, and it hit him.

“Where’s Irele?”

The teenagers flinched—shoulders flinched, sweaty fists clenched tighter, and knees were knocking.

Owen repeated the question until he spotted the scarf crumpled up into a ball.

“That’s Irele’s,” he pointed weakly at it. “Where is she!?”

“We… We’re sorry, but we lost her…”

“Lost her? Lost her!? Lost her how?!”

The raising of Owen’s voice attracted Beru—carrying Luke—to go outside. She finds Irele’s group being confronted by her husband.

“Owen, what’s going on here?”

“Irele didn’t come with them.”

“What?!” Beru gasped, her brown eyes widened.

Venee stepped forward, “We were on our way back, honest! But she started acting strange. She looked distraught about your house, she said she spotted smoke coming from here but…”

“What smoke? We were perfectly fine here all day!” Owen interrupted.

The Twi’lek girl continued, alternately looking to her friends. They vouched her every word with nervous yet truthful nods.

“That’s the thing, sir. What’s worse is… she ran into an incoming sandstorm. That’s when we lost her.”

Heeda stepped in Venee’s side, “It’s true what Venee said. We tried to look for her when the storm passed, honest! We just didn’t want to stay until dark because of the Tuskens.”

“We’re sorry,” Frelik said sadly and with a misplaced guilt. “But this is what we can only find of her.”

Drello unfurled the scarf and held it in both hands, presenting it to Irele’s brother. The young boy stepped forward to hand it over to the man who was hesitant to take it from his hands. Unable to accept that this was a rhyme to the fate of his late stepmother.

“No…” Owen’s rage melted into grief and distress. His heart wrenched. “Oh no…”

“Owen…”

Luke tugged the collar of Beru’s jacket and quietly asked, “Aunt Beru, where’s Irele?”

Unable to grasp how Irele’s friends had lost her, neither can Beru explain it to her nephew-in-law.

“Irele’s… Irele won’t be home for a while, dear.”

“Why?”

At a loss, Beru gave up looking for answers, there were no right ones after all.

“I don’t know, darling, I don’t know…”

As soon as Irele’s scarf came to Owen’s hands, he did not care anymore who would see him break down to tears. His knees melted, his back arched as he embraced a remnant of his dear sister—his remaining closest kin next to Luke—as he was fueled by the burning determination to find her.

Even if it meant he will have to repeat his father’s steps in finding Shmi all those years ago, then he would do the same for Irele. But for this night, the dunes heard his sobs and buried them underneath each and every grain of sand.

The next few days seemed desperate and hopeless. Owen had called up every men who were willing to come with him in search of Irele, her friends joined in as well. By the day, their numbers thinned out—majority giving up on the search as they could not find any other relevant leads except the scarf and the girl’s last known position.

“Give it a rest, Owen! The girl’s probably lost, or worse, fallen into a Sarlacc pit while in a heatstroke daze.”

“DON’T YOU DARE SAY THAT ABOUT MY SISTER!” Owen swung with a finger pointed at the man who claimed such an assumption.

Knowing that this was not worth his time and energy anymore, the scout gave up and turned tail. Owen originally rounded up at least fifty men scattered across the outskirts of the major towns, even as far as the Dune Sea; though little by little, they all gave up on the search as well as Owen himself. Some with a heart apologized and wished him luck in finding the teenage girl.

“Oh, Irele…” Owen huffed, exhausted. “Where are you…?”

He was forced to stop the search just a few hours before sunset. He sent her friends home earlier. Upon returning to the house, he watched as Beru quickly walked out of the kitchen with a hopeful face—only for that hopefulness to fade away when she saw that her husband arrived alone.

She awkwardly dismissed herself and returned to the kitchen. Leaving Luke playing with a toy cruiser and shuttle on the table. Owen sat across him, the boy continued playing and reentered the little world he’s created with his ships, accompanied by little scaled figurines carved out of painted wood.

And from that day forward, something in Owen changed. In the following years, he would have grown old and sterner especially towards the remaining youngest family member—his nephew. Never mind if Luke would resent Owen’s ways in disciplining him or keeping him grounded, if it meant keeping him safe and preventing the same fate to happen to the boy, then he would do it.

He cannot afford to lose another part of his family.

[sadaboutniall]

something about you;

introduction | masterlist | tag | wattpad

Twenty Six. August, 2017.

It all happens so fast. It’s like one morning he’s talking about how to best release This Town, if they should just throw it up on SoundCloud or give it a proper release, and the next he’s on a world fucking tour of his own, album in his back pocket, screaming fans lining up outside once again. He hadn’t expected this, didn’t really think anyone would care so deeply about him, on his own. 

They come up with the idea for Flicker Sessions and Niall thinks it’s fucking brilliant, a great way to ease into a solo career, a perfect way to showcase his album—his life’s work—the way he wants it to be heard. It’s fucking brilliant and he can’t wait to kick it off—until it actually happens. 

Because he hadn’t thought, really, about what it would be like to sing Flicker in front of people for the first time. Hadn’t really considered that this record, so intimate, so personal, such a reflection of his soul, would be something that he doesn’t want other people to hear. The prospect of it is fucking terrifying, and he’s got fifteen minutes to get over it before he goes on stage.

‘I think I’m going to go out there now,’ says Isla, who’d been in the dressing room with Niall, watching him get ready. They’d made out against the wall for ages, his hands on her thighs under her sundress, her lips soft on his neck, careful not to leave any marks. It calmed him, being close to her like that, but she wants to watch the show from the crowd like everyone else, wants to experience it properly, and Niall’s not sure how he can manage fifteen more minutes alone with his thoughts. ‘You ready?’

‘Not really,’ Niall admits, fiddling with the sleeves of his white t-shirt. ‘Fucking shitting it.’

‘Yeah, I would be too,’ Isla says honestly, pressing a kiss to Niall’s throat. ‘But you’re going to do great. They’re gonna love you.’

‘Just feel so,’ Niall drags a hand over his face. ‘Naked?’

Isla tilts her head, eyebrows raised. ‘I mean, if you want to be—’

‘Please don’t tempt me right now,’ he whines, and Isla laughs, eyes warm as they trail over Niall’s body. ‘Tonight,’ he lowers his voice for her, leans in for a kiss.

‘Ah, you’ll be too drunk to get it up,’ she says it in the same low, sultry voice as Niall, smile pulling at the corners of her lips. ‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep.’

-- 

It really does feel like he’s on stage naked. He had thought the Jingle Ball tour was exposing but this is totally new, a different level, an intimacy he didn’t even think was possible. Almost everyone he grew up with is here tonight and everyone knows—they all know this is about Isla, who’s standing with them, singing along to songs they’re all hearing for the first time. He’s literally laying his heart out for people he’s known since he was a child: dissecting the intricacies of the love that has defined his entire life, for the entire world to hear. He never knew he had it in him to do this. 

He relaxes into it a few songs in, feels like he fully finds his groove by the middle of This Town, when the whole crowd can sing along. He finds Isla then, too—he’d been searching for her the whole set to no avail, and something about it feels particularly fitting, that his eyes land on hers at that moment. She’s the only person in the room as far as he’s concerned—fuck the Capitol execs, the journalists, the musicians he grew up listening to who are here now to listen to him. It won’t make him any better, worrying about them; this is for her. 

During Flicker, he has to close his eyes. It feels impossible to look at anyone when he’s this vulnerable, this honest. He can only think about how he felt while he was writing it, how terrified and clinging to hope he was—and then how it felt to play it for Isla for the first time, to watch her break down over the things he never found the courage to tell her properly. He could’ve saved them both so much pain, if only he hadn’t been so afraid. 

He gets it together, though, after Flicker and then Too Much To Ask. He finds his footing when the setlist speeds up, when he glances back into the crowd to see Isla and Emilia dancing, drinks raised above their heads, to Since We’re Alone. It’s smooth sailing from there out—he tries not to look at Isla too long during Slow Hands, for an entirely different reason this time, and feels his heart swell and nearly burst with the crowd’s reaction to On My Own. By the end of the set all he wants to do is keep going. Again, again, again, again. He wants to keep doing this on his own. 

--

The afterparty is in Coppers, which feels ridiculous but perfectly stereotypical. It’s part business meeting for Niall, who spends the first half of the night talking to the Capitol team and to journalists, accepting claps on the back and handshakes and congratulations, watching out of the corner of his eye as Tara collects business cards and phone numbers on his behalf. It’s all good news, Niall knows that, but it’s making him itchy and antsy, standing here doing this while his friends and family mingle around him, dancing, laughing, throwing back shots and raising pints. He wants to be with them, too. 

He escapes near midnight, when the execs have gone home and Tara’s disappeared with some guy who went to uni with Deo. Part of him wants to take a few seconds alone just to breathe, but he’s not willing to risk it, sure that someone will come up and interrupt if they see him alone. Being with Isla is better, anyway, than being alone.

He finds her with the Mullingar crew, no surprise. Mully’s got one arm slung over Mia’s shoulders and the other slung over Isla’s, and the sight of it makes Niall’s heart do a few flips in his chest, a smile rise on his face.

‘Something you need to tell me?’ He asks, sidling up to the group and gently touching Isla’s lower back. She’s beaming when she turns to him, and very, very drunk. 

‘I’m her surrogate fella,’ says Mully, stupid smile on his face. ‘Her real one fecked off to make business deals.’

‘How’d everything go?’ Isla interrupts, shrugging Mully’s arm off her shoulder and leaning into Niall instead. He feels a rush of pride in his chest, as if there had ever been anything to worry about. 

‘Really well, I think,’ Niall drops a kiss to Isla’s hair. ‘But I don’t wanna talk about work shite anymore. Shall I get us drinks?’

‘I’ll come with you,’ she says, smiling. ‘Anything to escape these eejits.’

Their friends shout after them as they walk away, Niall’s arm fitting comfortably around Isla’s waist. She drops her head onto his shoulder and the butterflies don’t let up—he doesn’t think they ever will, no matter how long he and Isla stay together. He loves this: walking through a crowd of people with his hands on her, her body pressed up against his. He likes that everyone in this room knows they belong to each other. 

It makes him itch for more of this, more moments and places where they can be open, together. But Niall’s seen what going public with relationships does for people like him. He swallows the idea, tells himself he’s not thinking straight. He’ll let Isla make the decision when she’s ready. 

At the bar he gets a Guinness for himself, and another vodka coke for Isla. They find a quiet spot near a window and this is all Niall wanted, he thinks—just some time with his girl, alone, before he has to face the rest of the world again. 

‘How do you feel?’ Isla asks around her straw, already deep into the drink. This is so typically her, piss drunk and still asking how everyone else is doing. ‘You were fucking brilliant. I fucking cried. Like, a lot.’

‘Did ya?’ Niall wishes he had his eyes open during Flicker, all of a sudden. He hates the idea of Isla crying without him. ‘I was that bad?’

‘Fuck off,’ she giggles, reaching up to cup his cheek. ‘I’m so proud of you.’

He grasps her wrist, pulls her hand around so he can press his lips to her palm, a gentle kiss. ‘Love you,’ he tells her. ‘This wouldn’t have happened without you. Thank you.’

‘It would’ve,’ Isla whispers, barely audible over the loud music, the roar of people talking. ‘You would be just as talented without me.’

‘No,’ he shakes his head. ‘All this is you. I wouldn’t have even auditioned without you, let alone written an entire album.’

‘Ah, you would’ve found someone else to inspire your angst.’

‘No,’ Niall repeats himself, trying to convey just how serious he is through his voice. ‘It’s only ever been you.’

Isla doesn’t fight him, just runs her thumb over the outline of his lips, over his dusting of stubble. ‘Colm is here,’ she says eventually. ‘He came up to talk to me earlier.’

‘What?’ Niall feels a strangely specific tightening in his chest, one he hasn’t felt since secondary school. ‘How did he get in? I didn’t invite him.’

‘Came with Nicky as his plus one.’

‘For fuck’s sake, I’ll kill the bastard.’

‘S’alright,’ Isla soothes. ‘It’s been ages. Was weird, though. He asked me if I was happy with you, if I was okay with being kept a secret.’

‘He what?’ It kind of feels like the only word Niall can say right now. 

‘I dunno, it really was weird. He was saying how I shouldn’t settle, how I deserve someone who doesn’t feel like he has to keep me a secret because he’s ashamed of me. I know he talks shite but, like, what a weird thing to say for no reason,’ Isla sips her drink, not quite meeting Niall’s eye.

‘He’s a fucking idiot bastard,’ is what Niall manages to get out, corners of his vision clouding with anger. ‘Just wanted to make you feel like shite one last time, and that was the best he could come up with. Petal, I’m so sorry, I wish you told me right away. Would’ve had him kicked out that second, but I’ll do it now, let me call Bas and—’

‘It’s okay, Niall,’ Isla touches his chest gently. ‘It won’t do any good to make him angry. I don’t even know why I told you it just… I’ve been thinking about it, is all.’

‘About what?’

‘What he said,’ says Isla softly, stirring what’s left of her drink with her straw. 

‘Do you feel that way?’ Niall asks, bile rising in his chest. ‘Like I’m ashamed of you? Because that’s the furthest from the truth, Isla, I—’

‘No,’ she shakes her head quick, cuts him off. ‘But I know, like. I know that I don’t fit in. With your work friends and stuff.’

‘What are you talking about, yes you—’

‘I’m not, like, a model or anything. I’m not talented or stunning or charming or cool, like that. I know I’d make a tit of myself if you took me to any of your work events, and I know that, like, publicity-wise there are better choices for you in terms of a girlfriend.’

‘Isla—’

‘I just don’t want you to feel pressure, like?’ Isla still won’t look at him. ‘I love you so much, but if I’m not the right fit for your job—’

‘Isla,’ Niall raises his voice just enough to get her to look up at him, brown eyes wide, wet, sad enough to snap his fucking heart. ‘I don’t want you to think like this. I don’t want anyone but you—I’m never going to want anyone but you ever again. Every time I had someone who wasn’t you I was thinking about you, for fuck’s sake. Christ, if you knew the number of times I almost said your name while I was in bed with someone else… it’s fucking embarrassing. You’re drunk, petal, and I don’t want to have this conversation right now,’ he brings his hand up to cup her cheek now, hoping she can feel just how much he loves her this way. ‘But I want to carry it on in the morning, when you’re sober. Is that okay?’

Isla nods, swallows thick and closes her eyes for a second. Niall waits. He’ll wait as long as she needs him to. 

When she does open her eyes, it’s like she was never upset in the first place. ‘You thought of me while you were fucking someone else?’ she asks, bringing her drink up to her mouth, wrapping her lips around the straw. It’s amazing, how quickly Niall feels a rush of heat through his body.

‘Every single time,’ he tells her honestly. ‘Listen, I’m gonna go find Bas and get McAnderson kicked out of here. But after that, I think I made you a promise earlier today that I’d like to keep?’

####

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[kbstories]

Sedimentation

sed·i·men·ta·tion (n.) The process of establishing and reinforcing meaning through repetition.

First and foremost, Ace is a big brother - not the only one Luffy's ever had, but the one he has left.

(Or: Luffy and Ace get more time at Alabasta because I said so.)

Tags: Reunions, Family Feels, Brotherhood, Introspection, References to (Presumed) Character Death, (It’s Sabo)

Set in Alabasta. No additional warnings apply.

***

Even for a man made of fire, Alabasta is an uncomfortably warm place to be. The ground is arid to the point every step will kick up dust, and a fine haze of sand lingers in the air that turns the horizon into an indistinct flickering mess and makes every swallow rasp in the throat with grit.

From his vantage point high above, Ace slouches with his legs hanging off the ledge of a flat-roofed house and lets his gaze roam the streets below. His unknowing hosts bumble about downstairs, the muffled sounds of banging pots and laughter announcing it’s time for lunch; for a moment, Ace holds his stomach that rumbles a complaint, loud and insistent.

Just a little longer, he promises himself.

Not a single cloud graces the sky with its presence and the population below with a modicum of shade. Nanohana is a ghost town at noon, its inhabitants fleeing into their homes for a nap until the weather outside stops actively trying to cook them alive. Things didn’t use to be this bad – at least, from what Ace can recall of his first trip here, back when he was still captain of the Spade Pirates – but a lot can happen in three years.

Ace pulls his lips into a pout, the heat immediately stealing whatever moisture is left on them. No sign of Monkey D. Luffy.

Fingers drumming a tuneless beat against the brim of his hat, Ace thinks. Perhaps it had been a little foolish to assume Luffy would show up just like that, much less anywhere within the spectrum of ‘on time’. Even this early into the Grand Line, the waves are tricksters and the currents are more likely to lead to ruin than to any expectable outcome. Still: There had been rumors of a rookie crew demolishing Whisky Peak mere weeks ago, and a bombshell report out of the kingdom of Drum announced the rather violent eviction of its current (now former) ruler. Ace frowns, remembering the state of things he witnessed himself not too long ago.

Good fucking riddance.

Well, Ace has always figured the day his little brother sailed across Reverse Mountain would be followed by chaos and destruction all around. With the world tilting on its axis and spinning more and more out of control with every passing day, it’s hard to say how it’s going to look like a month down the road, a year, two. The powers that be aren’t ready for someone like Luffy, not that Luffy would particularly care about that.

A fond chuckle bursts out of him at the thought. Whatever happens, Ace can't wait to see where all of it is headed.

First things first. Ace flicks his hat back on his head and gets up, patting sand off his shorts. It’s everywhere, stuck to his lashes and making the sweat on his back feel tacky and gross. He sighs. Shower first, then food. His meal will taste all the better knowing the tattoo of Father’s jolly roger is as it should be: untainted and shown off with pride.

And then, with some luck, he will finally be able to see his brother again.

*

Getting cannonballed into by 140 pounds of rubber is quite an experience, no matter how many times one has been subjected to it. On instinct, Ace’s arms shoot out to grab on to whichever piece of Luffy’s clothes he can reach and he turns in a lazy half-circle, automatically aligning his center of gravity around the excited bundle of limbs clinging to his head. It makes breathing an impossibility for a moment or five but it’s worth it every single time.

“Ace! It’s really you!”

“Hello to you too, Lu”, Ace laughs, his grin almost as toothy as his brother’s now that they can enjoy their reunion in peace and sans Marine meddling. In a play as old as time itself, Luffy settles with his legs bracketing Ace’s shoulders and his head firmly planted on–

“Oh! You still have your hat, too!”

–the top of his hat, chin nudging its crown into a more comfortable position with surprising gentleness. Ace can’t see the smile on Luffy’s face like this but he knows it’s there judging by the way dumbfounded astonishment morphs into fondness on the faces of his crew members.

Bowing as politely as he can, he smiles and says: “Portgas D. Ace, Second Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates... and Luffy’s brother. Nice to finally meet you.”

Among the sputtering of “Whitebeard? The Whitebeard?” and “Wait, brother?!”, a guy with green hair and three swords makes the fastest recovery from general disbelief. He nods at Ace and smirks, “Likewise”, voice heavy with a confidence that rivals Luffy’s own. Seems like he’s the oldest in the bunch, too, which isn’t saying much since they all look about Luffy’s age and– Is that a reindeer?

(It’s hard to tell as whoever it is currently is trying to hide behind the main mast, ‘trying’ being the key word.)

They’re all strong though, Ace can tell. Inexperienced and fresh-faced and full of potential, just like their captain. His smile only grows.

So this is Luffy’s crew.

“Oi Luffy, when were you gonna tell us you have a brother?”

Happily wriggling his feet against Ace’s stomach, Luffy hmms as if deep in thought. “Dunno!” is the answer he comes up with after careful consideration, and Ace chuckles along with some of the crew. “It never came up, you know? Ace has his own adventures and stuff.”

If the heat was tough before, it’s unbearable now with Luffy’s furnace of a body compounding the issue. Ace lets him stay, stepping on his brother’s ship with a murmured “May I?” and a quick nod from a woman with short, red hair. The caravel is small but charming and cozy, so much so Ace feels immediately at ease. One of the many worries nipping at his nerves ever since he saw the name Strawhat Luffy under the words DEAD OR ALIVE is laid to rest then and there.

“Hey Ace, what are you doing here anyways?”

By now Luffy’s practically humming with unspent energy; Ace sighs and unceremoniously dumps him on deck, fixing his lopsided hat and necklace smoothly. Luffy is undeterred, snickering and effortlessly climbing a few feet up the mast to look at his brother from there.

“Taking care of business”, Ace answers casually yet can’t help the way his smile slips a little. The memory of Thatch bleeding out in his arms is too fresh, too grim to repress entirely. Luffy’s head tilts to the side but Ace waves him away before he can ask.

“Don’t worry, I can handle it. I just figured if I’m already around these parts I might as well meet up with my baby brother.”

When he left that message on Drum, Ace had figured he’d just say hi to his brother, tell his crew to watch over him (or else) and be on his merry way to put down Blackbeard like the mangy fratricidal dog he is. It’s only after he’s successfully ticked off the second item on that list – the crew looks sufficiently humbled and that green-haired dude Zoro grins at him, clearly approving, and why does Ace feel like he just passed some sort of test? – that he finally realizes he didn't account for one thing in this brilliant plan of his.

Because his brother is Luffy, and the moment Ace makes to leave he finds himself the target of a kicked-puppy-look-of-doom so heart-rending he feels terrible for even thinking that way.

“Lu, c’mon now, I…”

“But Ace! It’s been three years and so much has happened and we just met and–”

And that’s that. The whiny note in Luffy’s voice effectively shreds through whatever resistance Ace has left (which, if he’s honest with himself, wasn’t much to begin with). At the end of the day, he missed his little brother and it’s not like life hasn’t taught him – over and over and over again – to cherish the fleeting moments he has with those he loves. Ace pinches the bridge of his nose and groans.

“Fine. One night, okay? One. I really have to go after that.”

Luffy cheers, gloom immediately forgotten, and it’s then that Ace notices his crew is breathing a sigh of relief, too. So they're already aware a sad Luffy is to be avoided at all costs. Good.

The blonde one – Sanji the cook, Ace reminds himself – asks him what he’d like to eat and without thinking he says, “Anything with jolokia in it”, and Sanji shrugs, “Alright, coming right up”, and strolls away in the direction of the galley before it crosses Ace’s mind that those peppers are really hard to find and he’s already had lunch just an hour prior. He distinctly remembers Luffy eating his weight at the bar earlier, too, and he is yelling for meat at the top of his lungs.

Oh well. Might as well try out Luffy’s cook and see for himself that his gluttonous brother is well cared f–

Someone clears their throat to draw his attention. “Mr. Portgas”, a woman says, voice pleasant and measured in a way only diplomats speak. On this ship, with that captain, finding someone so eloquent is the thing that ends up surprising Ace the most.

“Ace, please. What's the matter?”

She smiles, an obvious appreciation for his manners even if it doesn’t pierce through the troubled look swirling in her eyes. “Ace, sorry. I'm Vivi, then. Would you mind if we continue along the coast and up the river during the night? We, um, we have somewhere to be and time is of the essence.”

Ace blinks. Isn’t that a question for your captain? Then again, Luffy is currently busy hounding his cook for scraps and knowing him, he’s not really the authoritarian type anyways, captain or no. 

“Uh. I don’t really care, I can set off from wherever with Striker.”

Vivi follows the gesture he makes to his trusty fire-powered speed boat but her interest is polite, half-hearted at best. “I see. I appreciate it, thank you.”

Not we but I, huh? Be it paranoia or justified caution, Ace knows the devil is in the details and this Vivi, she has something to hide. Yet nothing disturbs the air of trust the others seem to place in her: A secret kept only from strangers, then.

“A-ceee.”

Ah. Ace shakes himself out of the analytical stare he’s fixed her with, and to Vivi’s credit she merely locks her jaw and stares back, all pretense stripped to reveal a core of steely determination underneath. Luffy is pouting at him, draped across the railing of the forecastle and clearly unhappy with the subtle tension rising around them.

“Stop being all serious and come here, I want you to meet Merry!”

Scratching his neck, Ace huffs a breath – “Alright, jeez. Give me a second.” – and he nods at Vivi, both an apology and a concession to what they discussed. “Let me know if I can help with… whatever’s going on. It sounds important.”

The smile she gives him is more genuine, this time. “It is. You’ve already done enough keeping the Marine off our backs, though.”

Ace shrugs, have it your way, and before Luffy can start getting annoying for real, he launches himself in a column of fire to his brother’s side. “Okay, then. Who’s this Merry?”

*

The Strawhats truly are a crazy bunch and Ace is fascinated. It didn’t take long at all for Sanji to bust out of the kitchen with a mouth-watering amount of food, and Luffy disappears from Ace’s side so fast he basically teleports to the cook’s side. Shaking his head, Ace climbs down the stairs leading up to Merry’s figurehead at a more measured pace, watching the crew deal with his brother’s antics like it’s nothing, as easy as breathing. Hands fly and insults right along with them as they somehow wrangle him into sitting down properly and keeping to his own plate (for the most part) and Luffy does, beaming bright as the sun in their midst.

It softens something in Ace’s heart to witness it – Luffy has grown in the time they spent apart, stronger in many ways and mellowed out in others and unchanged where it matters. Perhaps his crew doesn’t realize it yet but it’s no small feat, to accept him just as he is.

Then, a rubbery arm wraps around Ace’s waist and he’s pulled (literally rather than figuratively) into the fray.

Lunch is a loud and boisterous affair. Ace gives as good as he gets, fighting for every delicious bite from where he’s squeezed in-between Luffy and a guy as gangly and awkward as they come, and he can’t remember a time he saw devastation quite like when Usopp dares him to try his Tabasco Shot and it does absolutely nothing. “I fried my sense for spicy food years ago”, Ace admits between peals of laughter, and Usopp’s eyes light up before he scrambles to his little workshop haphazardly placed in the middle of the deck.

“Don’t go anywhere! You’re my test subject now!”

It’s a good while later that things start to settle down on the Going Merry as she makes her way up the Sandora River. One by one, the Strawhats disperse to their own corners of the ship, clearing out the mess left behind and cycling through their duties without a single input from their captain – be it by design or implicit understanding, it’s hard to tell. And while Luffy is all-too-happy to hog his brother’s attention, Ace soaks up the obvious joy radiating from his voice and the unique cadence of his laughter.

Crouching on one of Merry’s horns, head pillowed on the palm of his hand, he lets himself be regaled by story after story of their adventures, told in that nonsensical style of narration Ace knows better than his mother tongue. Luffy sprawls all over his ship’s figurehead like it’s an extension of his body, hands a blur as he acts out what he means with gestures and grimaces.

For being a crew from what is considered the weakest Blue, the Strawhat Pirates have caused quite the stir. Ace smirks. About time people stopped underestimating the underdogs.

After all, his mouth still burns from the final rendition of Usopp’s self-made tabasco, one the sniper declared as his new weapon with a glint of triumph in his eyes.

It dawns on him, as Luffy imitates climbing with clawed fingers and a short-lived scowl on his face (“–it was so high, Ace, and there was ice everywhere and no more bunnies to help us, you know? And then–”), that Monkey D. Luffy is a good captain. It’s not a lack of faith in Luffy’s abilities or a big brother’s sense of superiority that ever put that into question: The truth is that Luffy is trusting and kind-hearted to a fault, the devotion to his friends easily spanning all oceans and beyond. Absolute loyalty, rare as it is in this jaded world, is one hell of a double-edged sword to fight your battles with, and the Strawhats strive for it with the same fervor as the dreams they wrote across their hearts and souls.

It’s the same brand of recklessness that nearly got the Spade Pirates killed, back when Father was still Whitebeard, one of the Four Emperors, and Ace had a personal vendetta against the universe itself (and the man it called King) to carry out.

History has a nasty habit of repeating itself, of transmitting a sin from father to child and brother to brother, and Ace hadn’t known shit about that when they’d raised their cups of sake that day and swore to be family until the end.

Yet here Luffy is, giving out pieces of his heart and expecting everyone to fall into step beside him. Even their current quest across Alabasta seems to be driven by some favor or other – keeping a low profile, for one, seems completely antithetical to the small crew made large by their personalities – and Ace worries.

It's in moments like these that he wishes he wasn’t the only big brother Luffy has left.

“Ace?”

Luffy’s eyes are big and serious, hands having come to rest on his knees and brows drawing into a pensive line while Ace was lost in his head. It’s second nature to join him then, cross-legged and close enough to brush shoulders. “What is it?”, Ace asks quietly as he takes off his hat, lets it spin between his fingers – he offers it to Luffy, “Here”, a soft smile sneaking on his lips as his brother takes it and starts toying with it.

The distraction doesn’t work as well as it used to, and that’s alright. The main point is that, even as a kid, having something to keep his hands busy always helped Luffy parse through the thoughts bouncing around in his head.

Then, finally: “Where’s White-guy? He’s your captain, right?”

The questions are unexpectedly solemn, and Ace raises his eyebrows, waits for Luffy to elaborate. There’s a frustrated twist to his brother’s mouth, something small and annoyed.

“Like… It’s not fair. Does he know you’re all alone out here?”

Just like that, the pieces rearrange in Ace’s mind to produce a whole, and yeah, that would be a fault in Luffy’s eyes. “Hm, I get what you mean. Father…” Ace sighs. Where to begin?

“Every captain is different, and for him, we’re his sons. There was– Someone killed one of his sons, one of us, and Father didn’t want me to go after him but I insisted. It’s as if I tried to kill you, or you me. It’s unforgiveable, you see? So that’s why I’m here – I’m gonna bring that fucker to justice.”

A fraction of the anger seething within him seeps into Ace’s voice and it’s been years since he let himself be driven by hatred like this. But Luffy, he’s known Ace from a time everything that came out of his mouth was laced with lethal intent, and spite was all he knew how to reach for.

There is no unease in Luffy’s gaze now either, and when he returns Ace’s hat to him, his hands are steady and unbothered by hesitation.

“That won’t happen. Why would I want to kill you?”

Luffy says it with such earnestness, like he couldn’t come up with a single reason if given a hundred years to think about it; Ace laughs and puts his hat back on his head, and love surges through him like the fire in his veins.

“Exactly. It shouldn’t.”

“So your new dad is a good guy after all?”

“He’s the best”, Ace says with a conviction he feels down to his bones, and Luffy smiles right along with him. “I want you to meet him someday, Lu, you and your crew. I don’t think I can change your mind about who should be Pirate King–”

“Never.”

“–but you’ll like him. And you could meet my crew, too. And our flag ship looks like a whale. A big white one.”

“Really? That’s cool!”

“Right?!”

They laugh just as they used to whilst pretending to sleep at night, hushed and with their heads bowed close to each other as if to fit under the same blanket. It’s quiet for a while, afterwards, Ace listening to the lapping of the waves against wood and watching the cloudless sky go by and Luffy watching him.

Ace guesses he’s thinking of his inevitable departure tomorrow but there is little he can do about that. Even as his big brother, Ace can’t protect Luffy from everything in life.

The touch to his shoulder comes a bit sudden and Ace almost jumps, takes in the pensive look on Luffy’s face and then the careful motion of his finger as he traces heavy, inked lines: Gently, he writes A, then C, then E, and returns upwards to brush over the crossed-out S with his thumb.

“Do you think he’d be proud of us?”

Ace hums, glances down at the tattoo. It had been the first thing he’d gotten with his own money – paid with treasure, Sabo would’ve loved that – and it’s a little faded now but it still fills Ace with determination, to know Sabo is with him and his memory will continue to exist as long as Ace draws breath.

“Sabo? Yeah, I think so. He’d be happy we kept our deal and sailed out to sea.” Ace chuckles, rubbing his shoulder fondly. “Perhaps a little miffed that I’m definitely the oldest brother now but, well. What do you think?”

“Mhm, I think so too. And we’re free now, right? Just like we said.”

“Yeah. We are.”

Luffy huffs a laugh, leaning back against Merry and linking his arms behind his head like he doesn’t have a care in the world. No regrets, huh, Sabo? Ace’s chest feels warm with nostalgia and he makes himself comfortable, too, gazing towards the sea and imagining Sabo sailing ahead of them, eyes fixed on the horizon and his flag waving proudly in the wind.

We promised, after all.

[ohmystarsy]

all the tag games I’ve been tagged in in the last few months

as the title says - I’ve finally found some quiet time to do all of them, thank you all for tagging me!!! it is always a pleasure and I LOVE those tag games, just life has been really busy recently, even more so during that whole pandemic thing.

I put all of them under read more, bc there’s  A LOT of text. the tag games include:

name ten favourite characters from ten different things, tagged by @majoris

name your seven comfort movies, tagged by @majoris and @natowe

quarantine Q&A, tagged by @ithilnarmo

20 questions about yourself, tagged by @jennyyfishh

I was tagged by @majoris​ for name ten favorite characters from ten different things (tv, movies, books, etc.), then tag ten people.

favourites are the worst! but I will try my best neverthless.

Eames from “Inception” (idk, he is flirty af but also has rly bad taste in clothes and I love that; it might be also Tom Hardy thing tho)

Thor from MCU (just. the kindest of Avengers? says women rights? struggles with what it means to be “worthy”? pls)

Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach from “The Witcher” (I just love evil blonds with redemptions arcs who suffer throughout the whole series bc they made some bad mistakes in the past; also yes I have always headcanoned him as blond, idk why)

Leia Organa from “Star Wars” (an Icon, what else should I add?)

James Flint from “Black Sails” (gay pirate disaster that we all deserved and it was given)

Clara Oswald from “Doctor Who” (idk I just always related to het the most from all companions that I’ve seen. I love her fearlessness, her bossy side and that she takes no bullshit from the Doctor)

Sansa Stark from “Game of Thrones” (I hate what the show did to her, but I always loved her in books; how she starts as this silly, annoying girl and then grows and grows and outgrows everyone else)

Phryne Fisher from “Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries” (I just love this show and this woman; I’ve never seen a characterisation as this one; at one side she is never serious and she often plays silly woman, but that is only a facade for the world??? and she never cares about what others think of her, I’d love to be like her when I grow up, if I wasn’t already a grown-up)

Roy Mustang from “Fullmetal Alchemist” (I mean. I’ve never knew a manga character could be so hot. Also he’s a snarky bastard, but that’s what we love about him don’t we.)

(Purple) Hawke from “Dragon Age” (idk I just like this sarcastic little shit)

I was tagged by @majoris and @natowe​ to name my seven comfort movies (and god it’s gonna be difficult bc I rarely watch movies but here we go)

Inception

King Arthur: A Legend of the Sword

Lord of The Rings: Two Towers

Brooklyn 99 (I know, not a movie, but this is actually what I usually watch for comfort - I think I’ve seen season one like 10 times at this point)

Thor Ragnarok

Mamma Mia!

Star Wars: The Force Awakens

(generally when I’m in need of comfort movie I just look for some action movie this is how I roll, fighting on the screen makes me calm *shrug emoji*)

I was tagged by @ithilnarmo​ for quarantine Q&A

1.  Are you staying home from work/school? Yes, I am, although there was some battle with this (long story). Luckily the project I work on is on the final stage (it’s already being built), so it’s actually possible to do everything from home and also a team I’m on is super communicative and it all goes rather smoothly.

2.  If you are staying home, who is there with you? I live with my sister, who is now finishing her Master’s Degree, so we are in this together! (There is also occasionally a dog on our neighbours’ balcony just next to us and it’s always a highlight of a day.)

3.  Are you a homebody? Before this pandemic I thought I am, but now I think I just don’t like clubbing and partying lmao, bc I just ITCH to travel or just go outside and walk in the city and I CAN’T.

4. An event that you looked forward to that got cancelled? Well, not an event, but several of my plans for spring and holidays got cancelled. I was supposed to go the Baltic Sea and Gdańsk in spring (on seperate occassions) and then I and my friend had to cancel our holidays to Faroe Islands in May/June, because it will probably be still too early to travel.

5. What movie have you watched recently? I think it was “Escape from the ‘Liberty’ Cinema”, which is hella weird Polish movie from 1990, just after end of communism. It tells a story about a censor who starts to question his job bc suddenly the actors in the movie that is being shown in one of the cinemas rebel (inside a movie) and don’t want to play it anymore. Really weird. Really.

6. What shows are you watching? Brooklyn 99 for like tenth time.

7. What music are you listening to? Same as usual.

8. What are you reading? I’m reading “The Waves” by Virginia Woolf (my fav book ever), for a month now, bc 1) I don’t have much time now I just work all the time, 2) I read it in English and can only read like 10 pages at once. but it’s SO GOOD, guys. so good.

9. What are you doing for self care? lmao don’t have time for that. I try to take breaks from work, sometimes go outside or at least step outside to balcony (and stare at the neighbours’ dog), I cook dinner every two days and a NICE stuff, so at least food brings me joy, and I try to sleep regularly, although I do a poor job on that.

aaaaand I was tagged by @jennyyfishh for 20 questions about myself

1. Nickname: I actually don’t have any, it doesn’t work like that in Polish (Kasia is already what you’d call a nickname from my full name Katarzyna, but this is just how we call all Katarzynas) (sometimes I wonder what is the point of the full names if we never use it in speech lmao)

2. Zodiac Sign: Scorpio!

3. Height: around 170cm

4. Languages: Polish and English; I was kinda conversational in German some years ago but now forgot all of it, I’d probably understand some of Ukrainian and Russian if I really tried (was learning Russian for three years and Ukrainian is just similar enough to Polish) and learnt some Swedish too, but again, don’t remember anything rn

5. Nationality: Polish

6. Favourite season: spring

7. Favourite flower: daffodil and tulip

8. Favourite scent: verbena, petrichor, sea

9. Favourite color: yellow

10. Favourite animal: dog probably

11. Favourite fictional character: look at tag game number one on this long list : )

12. Coffee, tea or hot chocolate: coffee!

13. Average hours of sleep: 6-7, but my body wants 10

14. Dog or cat: both, actually; now I’d rather take cat than dog, but that’s only bc I live in small apartment and am out of it for too long

15. Number of blankets you sleep with: one??? second blanket is for really freezing winters only (like -10/-20 celcius degrees)

16. Dream tip: what does it mean even? idk man, sometimes if you wake up from rly good dream, if you think about it hard and fall asleep quickly you can still return to it

17. Blog established: probably somewhen in 2011? idk what is time anyway

18. Followers: 2051

19. Random fact: oh god idk, ok I will maybe say sth I’m rly proud of, which is that my short story was published in an anthology in year 2017. I still can’t believe my name is printed there.

(where is 20th question tho???)

ok, I am tagging for all of those above: @shirewalker @sorrydearie @natowe @cptnjaneway @iaskier @spectralarchers @majoris @jennyyfishh @ithilnarmo @ohhelga @marsza @stupidape just choose whichever of those above you’d like to do or just ignore it completely : )

[donaeis]

simmer - get to know

by @cupcakegnome​

i was tagged by the amazing @whyhellosims​ and couldn’t pass up on this awesome opportunity to allow yall to get to know me a bit better! 💖

your name: I went on discord a few years ago for some sims help and just named my account Figaro after my favorite horse without really thinking about it... then I actually got hooked on discord and my friends started calling me Fig, so... fig it is! here’s the real fig, though, for those who are interested:

hes more amazing than i could ever dream to be.

languages you speak: dutch, english, german (i'm gonna go as far as to say dutch and german are mutually intelligible, and tho this gives a bit less of an incentive to actually learn german when germans will understand ur dutch just fine, it also makes learning german significantly easier). I tried to learn greek but even after years and years i just couldnt get past the alphabet LOL. the only greek I know are the bits and pieces I learned from my time spent there, but id have 0 idea how to actually spell that stuff out.

are you a mermaid: if only!! i do feel a very strong connection to water, though—my dad built his own sailing boat and traveled the world with it, and during his travels me and my sis been visiting a lot, living on his boat with him while we did

your play style: so, so story-driven... even when I tell myself I just wanna play the game without a story for once I end up with one by the end of my play session anyway.

your selfsim picture:

stories or gameplay, builds, lookbooks, edits or cc: I do stories most of all, but also like regular gameplay, my stories will for a very large part be game-driven, and from time to time ill post some builds. ive done a lookbook too. basically the only thing that wont have too much of a focus on my blog, despite my using it, is cc

your favorite age state: YA

your favorite season: winter

your favorite holiday: talk like a pirate day!

how was your day: actually absolutely terrible LOL. hungover, lost my temper on both a customer as well as a coworker... at least i got through it. 😂

your favorite career: admittedly, I rarely actually play careers cause my sims are way too busy or too dumb to actually be able to go there. if I had to choose any, though... I might actually go with the military

your favorite aspiration: the one that the most of my sims have completed is Friend of the World, cause I like for my sims to be sociable so it doesnt take too much effort to complete it anyway, and the reward of relationships never decaying is great

your favorite EP, SP or GP: vampires will always hold a special place in my heart, but I also absolutely love strangerville! if I had to choose any one favorite, id go with that one.

how old is your simblr: I posted some stuff in march last year but havent been active since, like, november? december? something like that

have you woohooed: yes

your favorite skill: charisma, cause theyll develop it automatically as I play

the size of your mods folder: 2.77 GB

your 3 favorite mods: mc command center, npc control, and personality please (links) are the three mods i absolutely couldn’t play without

your interests (other than sims): writing, dancing, creating (i love things like character creation), horse riding & anything involving animals, really.

your favorite sim (picture if possible): this is actually incredibly difficult for me cause im not sure i have 1 favorite. a lot of sims of mine will always hold a special place in my heart. my favorite sim to play fluctuates a lot... but god, if i had to choose any favorite sim whom i really completely made through sims and who was not a non-sims character already precious to me turned into a sims character.... itd probably be tika. hes an asshole but man, do i just love him and especially his story.

which Sims games you have played (including mobile games): the sims 1, 2 and 4

propose a crazy scheme: the sims community actually coming up with some GOOD sims 4 qualities for once 

best part of simblr: the amazing people I got to meet on here!

worst part of simblr: hmm... though i feel its much much less toxic than places like youtube or even the official forums, there is still some negativity here sometimes

what other games you play: im kind of a noob with other games, honestly. I used to play a whooole bunch of horse-related games (am a total horse girl), and I played the battle for middle earth (also looove me some LOTR). used to go to my childhood best friend's house to steal her brother's xbox and play gta iv on it, and I bought gta v for myself but sadly, I suck too bad at games to actually progress any with it

other websites or accounts (origin, twitter etc..): im on wordpress (here). i also mod a sims-based, lgbtq+ discord server called simsclub 

are you single: very happily so, yes.

im tagging @wesunnysimmer​, @nyteroseshadowthorn​, @amuhav​, @chaosxsims​, @silverspringsimmer​, @polishsimmersblog​ and well, uh... basically anyone that wants to do this! feel absolutely free to ignore this if you dont want to. 

[immobiliter]

blogroll of hypothetical muses i'd eventually like to write.

name 3 - 10 muses you’ve considered or would like to write in the future!

full disclosure that pretty much all of the muses i’ve listed here aren’t really ones i have any plans to write. i’m just at a stage where i currently have no potential muses left to add, so we’re going full on hypothetical here lmao.

zevran arainai: dragon age

zevran is probably never gonna happen on this blog ( or at least not until i finally finish my playthrough of origins ). but i’m sure the desire will always be there anyway.

nancy birch / charlotte wells: harlots

one of these days i’ll write someone from harlots because, god, this is a show that i felt so lukewarm about in its first season and then suddenly knocked me out of the park with its second season ( and unpopular opinion i actually liked the third season too ). with it now finally being shown on the bbc LIKE IT DESERVES i’m reminded of what a great show it is and both of those characters up there are my faves. if you want a show that is written and produced by women, with 90% female characters who are all interesting and complex in their own right, harlots is for you my friends.

jane eyre: jane eyre

my favourite female character in the history of female characters. i will never write her because her circumstances and the plot of the novel are too specific to really get any decent interaction, but know that i love her a lot.

evie frye: ac syndicate

as sae already knows, evie was about as close as i ever got to adding an ac muse because i was and am still in love with her aesthetic and the potential for her character. however the only terms under which i would consider adding her as a muse would be essentially starting from the ground up with her character-wise because god. she has so much potential. a female victorian assassin?? who wears trousers instead of a dress???? this is why i found syndicate so frustrating, because it’s one of my absolute favourite periods of history ( and i’m an absolute nerd about the victorians okay ) and they just didn’t do enough interesting things with her character. particularly compared to jacob, who i found the more interesting of the twins.

carolyn martens: killing eve

i think about carolyn a lot, and she very much fits into a certain Type of character who i would absolutely love to write one day. 

otis milburn / eric effiong : sex education

sex education is another show i just want everyone to watch because it’s fucking amazing. and narrowing down my choice of muse from there to jackson was hard enough. i love otis too which tbh i think is mainly because i see too much of myself in him. i’d also love to write eric because of course i would, he’s my type, but he’s the sort of muse who would require a lot of work on my end ( rightly so! ) to get him right and do him justice, which i just don’t have the inspiration or time to do at present.

your current muses (optional and in no particular order):

anamaria: potc

diana prince: dc

emma woodhouse: austen

james flint: black sails

jamie fraser: outlander

josephine montilyet: dragon age

martha jones: doctor who

morgana pendragon: merlin

pepper potts: mcu

robin buckley: stranger things

varric tethras: dragon age

villanelle: killing eve

i’m not listing everyone because a) these are just my canons and b) i have so many. and these are what i consider my ‘main’ muses at present

tagged by: @iniziare & @sicsemper <3 tagging: @whisperedreveries, @inkwielded, @meisanimam & anyone else who hasn’t done this yet!

[suitofvibraniumarmor]

The American Initiative

Part Five

Summary: Grace Cleveland and Eleanor Baker both thought their lives were over, until they became part of something much bigger – the Avengers. Pairing(s): Clint Barton x OFC, Steve Rogers x OFC Word Count: 1198 Blanket Warnings: Death, mentioned a couple of different ways, but not detailed; canon divergence; more based on Marvel movies. In the infamous word of Steve Rogers, “Language.”

Masterlist Wanna be tagged?

After the party, Steve decided it was time to really get to work with Ellie’s training. She was a perfectly capable being, but her confidence was wavering. Despite all of the strides she had made since they began working together, she hadn’t been able to handle being at Tony’s party on her own.

Not that Steve was complaining at all. Having Ellie on his arm in front of all of those elite – well, he wasn’t sure that the pride he felt was entirely appropriate.

“No training room today?” Ellie asked, meeting him outside like they had the first time they met together.

Steve clapped his hands together. “No – not yet, anyway. I want to talk to you about Tony’s party.”

Ellie frowned. “Did I do something wrong? Maybe I shouldn’t have said as much as I did.”

“No, no,” Steve said, offering a reassuring smile. “You did just fine. My concern, Elle, is that you couldn’t be on your own. I am more than happy to be there with you, but it won’t always be that way. We need to work on your confidence.”

He hadn’t planned on getting right to the point, but maybe that was the best way to go with the subject. He observed her expression; she was certainly surprised. Her outburst that came next, however, he wasn’t expecting at all.

“Do you know what it’s like? To have your life change in a single second? I was perfectly normal – I think, but that’s not the point. My life ended. Do you get that? It was over. I was brain-dead. My family mourned for me, I know that much. Maybe they still do. But I woke up one day, this completely different being. I have these powers, these abilities, and all of these people telling me what I can do, what I’m supposed to do, but I don’t even know who I am!”

“Okay, all right,” Steve said, pulling the crying woman into a tight hug. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bombarded you with this. I’m sorry.”

Ellie shook her head, wiping away her tears. “No, I’m sorry for the outburst.”

“That was good, I think,” Steve said. “And for the record, yes, I do know, somewhat, what that’s like. I went into the ice and when I woke up, it was seventy years later. I shouldn’t be alive right now, either. I know who I am, but I don’t know how to be that person in this day and age, sometimes. We just – we have to figure out who you are.” He thought for a second. “I have a great idea of where to start. Something to take the edge off.”

Steve took her hand and led her back into the facility. Before they got too far, Fury stood in their path.

“Sorry, kids, gonna have to interrupt. Steve, we’ve got a mission.”

Steve looked at Ellie, then back at Fury. “A mission …?”

“No offense, Agent Baker, but you and Agent Cleveland won’t be going on this one.”

Ellie nodded. “Understood, sir.”

Fury left then, no doubt to inform the rest of the team. Steve turned to Ellie, who was smiling excitedly.

“You’re excited?” Steve asked.

Ellie shrugged. “Someday, it is going to be me, going with you guys. And that’s exciting. You go save the world, I’m going to start figuring out who I am.”

Steve had to stop himself from kissing her, but at the same time, he scolded himself for even thinking that.

The Glock in Grace’s hand was a welcome familiarity while she and Clint worked on target practice on the gun range. She emptied the magazine with expert precision, reloaded, and did it again. After a fifth magazine, she ejected the magazine, locked the chamber, and set the gun on the counter in front of her.

“I could do this all day, Clint,” Grace huffed. “You’ve taught me focus, I’m zeroed in. I used a gun before, it’s nothing new. Give me something new.”

Clint smirked. His charge was nothing if not determined, and he liked that about her. Since their dance at Tony’s party, Grace had been slightly distant from him, but he figured it was mostly because of the increase in intensity of their training.

“All right, champ. We’ll hit the archery range.”

Grace clapped excitedly, following Clint out of the facility and down to the archery range. She waited patiently while he got things set up, taking in a deep breath when he handed her a bow, and slung a quiver over her back. He took out one arrow, helped her with her stance, then showed her how to hold the arrow in the bow.

“Clint.”

“What?”

Grace rolled her eyes. “This arrow has a suction cup at the end of it.”

Clint nodded. “Good observation. Ever shot a bow before?”

“No,” Grace sighed.

“Exactly. We’re starting with the basics, here. Learn your weapon, then I’ll give you the real thing.”

“But that doesn’t –”

“Just – will you please just go with this?”

Taking a deep breath before exhaling, Grace took up her shooting stance and focused in on the bullseye. She let the arrow go – and missed the target.

“What the hell!” she exclaimed. “I was so focused!”

Clint chuckled, and pulled another arrow from the quiver for her. “You’ve got the focus, you’ve got the accuracy, but like I said, you’ve got to learn your weapon.”

“Maybe I should stick to guns.”

“No, c’mon, now. You can do this.”

He stood behind her, showing her how to change things up just enough to get the shot she wanted.

“Deep breath in, out … just like with a gun, shoot between the heartbeats.”

“How’s that gonna work when I’m firing one after the other?” Grace asked.

“Basics, Grace,” Clint smiled. “You’ll get there, I have faith.”

She turned to give him a grateful smile at the same time Clint turned his head to face her as well. They were centimeters apart, and Grace’s heart quickened. She lowered the bow and arrow; Clint’s smile softened and he placed one hand at her waist.

The distance between them was closing when Clint’s phone rang. The two of them separated. Clint answered his phone, and Grace squared up. The suction-cup arrow sailed down the range before sticking smack in the middle of the target. Clint smiled proudly as he disconnected the call.

“There you go,” he congratulated. “So, that was Fury. There’s a mission.”

Grace’s eyes grew wide. “Already?”

Clint winced. “Sorry, I should have clarified. It’s the six of us – you and Ellie aren’t ready.”

“No, I get it, that’s – that’s good. You should go. I’ll work out here.”

Clint nodded, resisted the urge to kiss her forehead, and headed back up to the facility. “Wait, Clint!”

He turned around, walking backwards. “Yeah?”

Grace pursed her lips together. “Be careful.”

He smiled. “I will.”

Grace and Ellie stood together, watching the quinjet take off, the wind and the exhaust blowing their hair back from their faces.

“That’s gonna be us, sooner rather than later,” Grace yelled over the sound.

Ellie nodded. “Think we can do it?”

Grace grabbed her friend’s hand and squeezed. “I know we can.”

[mcrmadness]

I was tagged by @cupcakecurl a while back (thank you!) and finally I’m on the mood for doing this myself as well!

Rules: tag 9 people you’d like to get to know better!

Top 3 current ships: I actually have just one OTP, which is Bela/Farin (aka FUB) from Die Ärzte, and then multiple smaller ones here and there. I’m finding new ships way too easily and sometimes it bugs me because I meant to enjoy a thing and boom, suddenly I have a ship there to fuck up with my brain. B/F is pretty much the only ship that I can say to actually ship, the rest are more like just for fun, I enjoy seeing stuff but I don’t really do anything about it, you know?

But now as I think of it, I think of it, I could say another band ship here: Paulchard aka Paul Landers and Richard Z. Kruspe from Rammstein, about these I have also watched videos and read some fancomics too and last summer’s tour was a wild one and I was following the events quite a lot.

And then maybe I could throw one fictional ship here too as it’s pretty much current one since I just finished watching the 5th season of Gotham last week, and that is, of course Nygmobblepot aka Penguin/The Riddler aka Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma. I’ve never in my life shipped these before, even tho I’ve been a Batman fan since 1999 (I was 8) as I saw the 60s series on TV and I can remember almost shipping Batman and Robin back then, and I was only 8 years old!, and then had been watching the movies more or less during my childhood, but this was never something I’d even think of before I started watching Gotham and things started happening in the show. But it’s an interesting one. And I have to admit that while the show was still running and I couldn’t watch it because I live in Europe (and was too lazy to look for a website to watch it :D), I was still browsing the tag on Tumblr after each episode and giving myself spoilers of what happens with them. But I think the ending was a lot different than what I thought based on the Tumblr posts, and I’m actually not sure what to think of it. Imho it was not as bad as everyone else seemed to think.

I’m putting this under a read more link as this is getting way too long and I don’t know if people are interested in reading my weird thoughts about ships and other random stuff, so here you go... 

Top 3 all-time ships:  Oh my gosh, I have had so many but only like 2 actually strong ones? And I have to say Bela/Farin here as well, the reasons are found from above and I’m just so obsessed with them and idc what it is, already the friendship is like friendhip goals, you know? But yeah, I’ve been making videos about these two idiots for like last 10 years so... :D

And the next one, okay I’m usually not so talkative about ships. I can talk about them with people in private but I don’t like to go and shout about them publicly, probably the only one I talk about this way is Bela/Farin but it’s because Tumblr is a safe place for this and there’s no hate with this ship or anything (and the other one is Paulchard, every now and then I will reblog something that crosses my dash). But mainly I like to keep ships to myself and like I said in that other tag game post, ships are more like a guilty pleasure. Maybe because of my age as it was very normal at the age of 15 but now as I’m 28? Why am I still “in love with other people’s love”? I actually don’t mind it but I think many people would find it weird, especially when I don’t read fanfictions anymore and I don’t want to imagine anything, I just like seeing cute stuff, but with many ships I don’t even want to see too much, I just like seeing them being close but with many ships even seeing them kiss would be too much.

But anyway, top 3 all-time ships... I think I need to mention here a ship that I was very much obsessed when I was 15-17, that I wrote LOTS OF fanfiction and was there to make lots of fan theories and all, and that one was Frerard aka Gerard Way/Frank Iero from My Chemical Romance. I was SO obsessed it’s insane. If you know anything about MCR and Frerard, you maybe are aware of how was the year 2007 and you can probably imagine how crazy we all went when Project Revolution stuff happened. So yeah, I need to mantion that here even tho I no longer “believe in this ship”, but I guess I’d lie if I said, that I didn’t believe that there was something there back in the day. I’ve actually recently been watching some Frerard theory videos just for fun, because there’s so many things I had forgotten and so many things I still can remember, but also lots of stuff that I kinda missed because they happened in 2010-2012, and even tho I was still very much in the fandom and I was to their second gig in Finland in 2011, I still was not that much into the Danger Days album so I was not so into digging up stuff either. And I had my own identity crisis and Die Ärzte had been my favorite band for 1-2 years at that time so I was spending lots of time watching DÄ videos, so MCR was kinda at the background. And then the whole band went quiet for some time until they quit in 2013 (and now they’re back), so all that Frerard hype kinda died after each of them started to get married to other people and the kids were born, so there just... kinda was no more room for the ship, you know? But Freard was my first actual huge slash ship, I’ve had others before it (for example, my first touch to slash fiction was Harry Potter fanfiction and of course Harry/Draco stuff, but that one also later died out), but it was the first really strong one and then Bela/Farin kinda took its place as Frerard died out but B/F has been going strong and the ship has been sailing itself since the 80s, so... :D

And as the last one I think I could again mention something fictional but at the same time something that is super weird for me as it’s not slash fiction but hetship, which is something REALLY weird for me. I usually don’t like heteroships as they’re just... boring and so cliché. But I need to mention this one that I got into when I was 15: Fox Mulder and Dana Scully from The X-Files. Yeah I know it was 2006 and the series had ended already in 2002, but I was a new fan! I had known about the series since I was a little kid as my dad was watching it back then, but I started watching it myself when the show had a rerun here in 2004-2005. And then I met my friend in 2006 when we were 15 and we found out that we both were very much into TXF and I remember how we somehow both started to ship Mulder and Scully (having no idea of how the series ended), and it was probably until the 6th season (there was 9 seasons at the time) when they stopped airing it altogether, so we were so furious about the fact because the last episode was such a cliffhanger and we NEEDED TO KNOW, so I had to buy them on dvd! So I remember how we would meet at school every day and after every episode, we went so crazy, discussing what had happened in the episode and if there was any Mulder/Scully activity, we were just so hyped :D And then, as we STILL hadn’t seen all the seasons, we went to see the second movie (”TXF: I want to believe”) in theaters in 2008 or so, and it’s set to happen after the events of the seasons, we were both so blown away by what was in the movie because we had no clue :D Fun fact: I actually finished watching the 9th season only last year. So now I understand the events of the second movie a lot better, and I’ve also seen the 10th and 11th seasons so now I’m finally aware of everything. But that really is a hetship that I accept and that is not like a typical movie romance type of ship. It has interesting dynamics.

---

Last song: Tatuoituna by Tehosekoitin

Lipstick or chapstick: Chapstick, I don’t use any make-up, but chapstick I need to use daily.

Last movie: Iron Sky. I’ve seen it before tho, but we’re gonna watch the sequel soon, so we had to watch this to remember what happened :D (And it’s made partially by Finns, so..!)

Reading: Atm I have 3 books I’m reading, all of them in Finnish:

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, which has all the short stories in one. But I think there’s some of the newer ones missing and that’s why I bought this bit newer book with more stories, and I’m gonna read those once I’m finished with this one. And I’ve been reading this now for years lol... but I’m slowly getting there, I’m already over halfway through :D

A collection of Edgar Allan Poe’s short stories, I don’t know the name for this book and it doesn’t say any name for the original. This one I also started to read a years back, only to pause if for years and then last year I borrowed it again from my dad and tried to continue from where I was left the last time.

The Heroes of Olympus: The Mark of Athena by Rick Riordan. I’ve been reading his books ever since I was a, well, teenager probably, and I have had a long pause with these books and reading overall, but now I’m back at it and trying to buy and read all of his books I still haven’t read.

I wanted to read the latter only after finishing with SH and Poe’s stories but I needed to read something and they’re bit too difficult reading at the times, and I needed something lighter but also didn’t want to start over with Harry Potter for the 5th time so I decided to go for this series instead. I really like reading SH and Poe’s stories, but like I said, they’re bit difficult at the times. You can’t just read them, you need to think and use your brains meanwhile you’re reading, and sometimes it’s just so incredibly hard to stay focused on it and I need to go back so often because I wasn’t paying attention and then had no clue what was happening and why.

And I sometimes I skip some of Poe’s stories because they’re so purely scientific about a topic that I cannot comprehend nor care about, e.g. this one story that was almost like a science essay about hot-air balloon flight in the form of a story, probably super interesting for someone who likes this kind of stuff and even more interesting for a writer interested in stuff like that, but I’m really not the target audience of that story :D But then there’s also lots of really interesting ones, I especially like the ones that have something to do with insanity. I guess people would call them as the horror stories, but idk, I just love that kind of mystery. For some reason all of my favorite stories are those where there is a dead woman/love interest :DD But probably my ultimate favorite is the one about writing an article to a magazine with horror stories, and how this guy become beheaded and all just to write a story about how it feels like and stays alive meanwhile, and I just LOVE IT when fictional works play with death and when something that is supposed to kill you, doesn’t, and I just love the idea of that story so much :D It’s just that you never know how a story will be like, as you start reading, is it a scientific essay or a mystery or a horror story or about insanity or what is it? And then when in the middle of reading and you realize this is bit boring or uninteresting, but still want to finish, but also want to skip, and that’s why I get stuck with that book, and I change to SH or something else. Often I also grab some of the comics (or non-fiction books) I own whenever I feel like reading but these books feel too heavy for that moment.

---

I should tag 9 people but I don’t even know that many people to tag lol. Okay I do know people, but I still don’t know who wants to be tagged and who doesn’t. Maybe I’ll be boring and tag @stufenlosregelbar again? :D And idk, maybe @annika-of-the-lost? Eh, I’m so bad at this whole tagging thing. I’m having a bad conscience if I don’t tag anyone/enough people in case they want to be tagged and I can’t read minds; and then I’m having bad conscience when I DO tag people in case they’re all somewhere facepalming and screaming “WHYYYYYY” into the void, as I still can’t read minds. So you can choose, do this tag game or ignore it and ban me from ever tagging you people again, I don’t mind :p

[juju-on-that-yeet]

It Takes a Village Chaper 4/12

Time for the Google bois to get their turn to see baby Yandere! Mostly Chrome tho, since he ends up on babysitting duty. What could possibly go wrong? :3c

Tags: @tired-eldritchhorror @peribloke (ask to be tagged!)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Read on AO3!

Enjoy!

~

“Really?”

“Look, Chrome, I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t desperate, but I really need your help on this one.”

Chrome hadn’t expected today to be taken up by babysitting Yandere while Dr. Iplier deals with an influx of patients, but that appears to be what fate has in store for him now.

“How do you even know you’ll be getting so many patients, anyway?” Chrome huffs.

“Why do people keep asking me that? I’m a doctor, I know what’s best.” Dr. Iplier says it like it’s obvious. “I can’t keep track of Yandere while I take care of people, and I’d rather him not see anything violent.”

“Do you know Yandere, Doctor?”

“I do, but he’s still a baby right now, and I don’t want to traumatize him. Besides, what are you so resistant for? Yandere’s your friend; you two have been friends longer than he’s been my son, even.”

“Babies are…” Chrome searches his database for the best way to describe how he feels about babies. “…the worst examples of humanity.” That sounds about right. Dr. Iplier sighs.

“Come on, Chrome,” Dr. Iplier pleads, “He may be a baby, but he’s still Yan. I’m not about to barge into Dark’s office and make him take care of a baby, and we both know it’d be a bad idea to let Wilford watch him. You’re the best option here.”

Chrome considers. Work on his projects as planned and let Dr. Iplier deal with Yandere? Or spend the day looking after a fragile, stupid, and disgusting tiny human?

Yandere looks at him from Dr. Iplier’s arms and smiles widely, cooing and babbling at him, apparently trying to communicate.

Fuck, Chrome thinks.

“Fine,” he mutters, “But only this time.”

“Thanks, Chrome, you’re a life-saver,” Dr. Iplier says, grinning with relief. He hands Yandere to Chrome, who holds him with tense arms. “I’d tell you how to feed him or what to do if he starts crying, but considering you’re a walking search engine, I think you’ll do fine on your own devices. Here’s a bag of stuff you’ll need, toys and diapers and things. I’ll be back when I can!”

Within a moment, Dr. Iplier has left, and Chrome is left standing in the doorway of the control room with Yandere in his arms and a bag–no, a diaper bag–full of baby supplies on his shoulder.

“Aga!” Yandere says brightly, reaching up to touch Chrome’s face.

“It’s Aka,” Chrome says, turning his face away from Yandere’s hands.

“Aga!”

“Aka.”

“Aga!”

“You’ll be here all day doing that, Red.”

Chrome turns to see Oliver grinning at him. Oliver’s face lights up at the sight of Yandere, and he walks over to fawn over him.

“What’s with the grumpy face?” Oliver asks Chrome, “I mean, the particularly grumpy face, since you’re always grumpy.”

“I’m stuck babysitting Yandere for the foreseeable future,” Chrome grumbles, choosing to ignore the “grumpy face” comments for now.

“That’s no reason to be grumpy!” Oliver chides, “Yan’s your friend, and besides, you get to hang out with a cute baby all day!” Oliver holds out a hand to Yandere, who grabs at it curiously, making Oliver laugh.

“Babies aren’t cute,” Chrome mutters, “They’re annoying and gross and fundamentally useless until much later in their development.”

“Well, like I said, this is Yan,” Oliver points out, “Not some other random baby. He already seems to like you, so why not give him a chance? This could be fun!”

“If you’re so invested then you take care of him.”

“No way! Dr. Iplier came to you, right? So you can’t just foist Yan off on someone else! That’s just not right.”

“You’re a killer android like the rest of us, how did you end up with a moral compass?”

“Beats me. But I’m not letting you pass Yan off to me, and I doubt Green or Blue would volunteer, so you’re either gonna have to learn to like Yan or grin and bear it.”

Chrome sighs as Oliver leaves, giving Yandere a wave and a soft “bye, Yan!” as he goes. Chrome looks down at Yandere, and Yandere looks up at him. Yandere is still smiling sweetly. And drooling now, evidently. Ugh.

“Aga!”

“No.”

This is going to be a long day.

~~~

“Chrome…exactly what are you doing?”

“Working on a portable laser cannon.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Chrome is, indeed, working on a portable laser cannon, but he already knows that Google is referring to Yandere. Chrome has Yandere placed in the corner of the room closest to him, sitting beside a box projecting a forcefield around a five-foot radius, keeping Yandere penned. Yandere, for his part, is chewing on a wooden block, seemingly unperturbed.

“Why is he wearing mittens?” Google continues.

“They’re anti-scratch mittens so he can’t turn off the forcefield,” Chrome answers, not looking up as he welds an attachment to the base of the cannon. “He’s perfectly fine like that.”

“I doubt it, but fine,” Google sighs, “Though, watching a baby for a while implies that you’re watching the baby.”

“Oliver told you, didn’t he?” Chrome mutters, finally stopping his work to look at Google.

“He did,” Google says, “And while I normally don't care what you do, if something happens while Yandere’s here, we’ll all be in trouble. So I’m here to remind you to do your job, and today, that job includes watching Yandere. Actually watching him.”

“Look, he’s fine,” Chrome growls, “I’ve got this under control. He’s completely happy in his–”

Chrome gestures at the forcefield pen only to realize that the field is down, the baby mittens are on the floor beside the mechanism, and the wooden blocks are abandoned. He panics for a brief moment until he feels tiny hands tugging his pant leg. He looks down to see Yandere, looking at him indignantly.

“How did you turn the–how did you take–”

“Bowed!” Yandere yells, pouting. “Pay w’me!”

“What was that about having this under control?” Google asks, smug.

“Shut up,” Chrome mutters, picking up Yandere and putting him on his lap.

Google leaves, apparently feeling his point’s been made, and Yandere and Chrome regard each other critically.

“I didn’t sign up for this,” Chrome tells him, “I like you more when you’re grown.”

“Bad Aga,” Yandere mumbles, clearly still annoyed.

“It’s Aka,” Chrome says through grit teeth.

~~~

Chrome halfheartedly bounces Yandere on his lap for a while, which Yandere enjoys but Chrome gets bored of very quickly. He ends up working on a different project, something that involves working on the main computers, sitting beside a ground level screen and keeping Yandere close by. It’s a decent compromise, he thinks; he gets to work on something like he wants to (even if he has to postpone the portable laser cannon for now), and Yandere gets to hang out with him and watch something interesting.

Plus drops by for a few minutes to help Chrome work out a particularly difficult bit, but he seems more interested in Yandere.

“So, this is what a baby figment looks like,” he muses, watching Yandere with curious eyes. Yandere is back to chewing on wooden blocks, oblivious.

“What did you expect?” Chrome asks derisively, not looking up from his work.

“I had no expectations, since I had never cared to think about this possibility,” Plus says honestly, “I wonder if he has any of the abilities he normally does.”

Chrome pauses.

“Come to think of it…” Chrome realizes, “I don’t recall ever actually taking those blocks out of the bag Dr. Iplier gave me.”

“Fascinating,” Plus murmurs.

“Look, are you gonna help me or what?”

“Alright, alright. Show me what you have already…”

For a few minutes they work, and neither of them notice Yandere growing increasingly disinterested until he pulls on Chrome’s shirt.

“Aga!” he whines, “Pay!”

“I did already,” Chrome mutters, “I’m busy right now; chew your blocks or whatever.”

“Babies need to be played with often,” Plus puts in, “At this age, babies need intellectual stimulation and, while they still prefer to play alone, they enjoy having their parents or guardians watch them play to offer encouragement or praise.”

“Thanks, BabyCenter.com,” Chrome quips.

Plus lets out an indignant squeak, but continues to assist Chrome until the snag is fixed.

It’s not until after he leaves that Chrome realizes Yandere isn’t sitting next to him anymore.

“Yandere?” he asks the air, looking around. He listens keenly to the environment around him, and is able to pick up the pitter-patter of Yandere’s little feet wandering into the workroom.

Chrome sighs as he gets up and walks over to the workroom. He pushes the half-ajar door all the way open just in time to see Yandere, reaching up on tiptoes to grab at something resting on the edge of a table.

The table at Chrome’s workstation.

Yandere’s fingers reach out towards the half-finished but live, electrified laser cannon sitting on the table.

“Hey!!” Chrome yells from across the room, “Don’t touch that!!”

The second half of his yell is unnecessary, as Chrome’s first sharp word startles Yandere so badly that he flinches backward, stumbling over his own feet and falling, landing on his bottom with a thud. He sits there frozen for a long moment as Chrome runs to him.

“What the hell were you thinking??” Chrome growls, hurriedly pushing the laser cannon away from the table’s edge as he kneels to Yandere’s level. “I told you already that you have to stay next to me, you can’t just run around here and…and…”

The wind leaves his sails as he looks at Yandere’s face, realization dawning as to why Yandere is still sitting there frozen. Yandere’s face slowly crumbles, shocked expression melting into a deeply upset pout.

Fuck, Chrome thinks.

Yandere wails.

“Hey, come on, don’t cry,” Chrome says, awkward and unsure of what to do. He reaches out to pick Yandere up, but he’s surprised when the baby flinches away from him, hands covering his face as he continues sobbing.

Chrome hadn’t thought that a literally heartless android could feel heartbreak, but he’d clearly been wrong. Why does this hurt so much? Why does he feel so sick?

Oh, right.

Because this isn’t the first time he’s made Yandere cry.

Granted, Yandere had been his normal self then, and he and Chrome weren’t quite friends yet. And Chrome hadn’t scared him, he’d said the cruelest things he could think of to get Yandere to leave him alone. And it worked, but it proved to be a hollow victory, because Chrome had already grown fond of Yandere without even knowing it.

Hadn’t Chrome promised Yandere he’d do better after that? Hadn’t he privately vowed to watch what he says so Yandere never has to feel that way again? Hadn’t he agreed that they were friends, and that they would be even if one annoyed the other? That they’d deal with annoyance maturely? Yandere may be a baby right now, but Oliver and Dr. Iplier were right: He’s still Yandere, he’s still Chrome’s best friend, and he’s still someone Chrome never wanted to hurt again.

And here he is, inching away from Chrome after a day of being ignored and barely tolerated by him. It’s so familiar that Chrome feels his core stutter in his chest.

“Hey, don’t cry…” he repeats, as softly as he can manage.

Yandere is still crying hard the way babies do; long wails punctuated with hiccuping sobs. His face is red all over and his hands are in fists trying to rub his eyes. He stops scooting away from Chrome, though Chrome can’t be sure if it’s due to fatigue or if he actually trusts Chrome to be kind to him. Still, Chrome pulls Yandere into his arms and gets up from the floor, gently bouncing Yandere as he continues to talk to him.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry, I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I didn’t mean to yell like that, I should’ve been watching you, don’t cry, come on…”

It takes several more minutes of gentle words and soft bouncing for Yandere’s tears to finally taper off and stop. He looks up at Chrome with lingering red cheeks and a pout, and Chrome looks back.

“Are you alright?” Chrome asks him.

There’s a pause as Yandere sniffles.

“…Bad Ahn?” he asks.

“No,” Chrome answers immediately, “No, it wasn’t you. I was bad. You just wanted to play with me, and I kept just…ignoring you.” It sounds so much worse out loud. “I’m your friend, and I should never have treated you like that. So, until Dr. Iplier comes back to get you, I’m gonna make up for everything.”

“Pay?” Yandere asks cautiously, reaching out tiny hands towards Chrome’s face.

“Yeah,” Chrome replies, letting Yandere grab his cheeks. He leans his head forward and rests his forehead against Yandere’s. “Yeah, we’re gonna play.”

~~~

Dr. Iplier hadn’t known what to expect when he entered the control room to finally retrieve Yandere, but he doesn’t think he expected this.

He walks in to see Chrome sitting cross-legged on the Googles’ communal sofa playing Mario Kart, with Yandere perfectly encapsulated in his lap. Chrome is concentrating so hard on the game that he doesn’t hear Dr. Iplier come in. Meanwhile, Yandere’s eyes are wide watching the bright colors and quick movements of the characters on the TV screen as Chrome maneuvers the controls. He’s in first place but probably playing on the hardest setting, since the other characters are close behind. Yandere is momentarily distracted by Chrome’s finger’s pressing buttons, and he pokes at the controller to press at buttons himself.

Knowing Chrome, Dr. Iplier expects him to get irritated. But Chrome’s eyes merely flick down to see Yandere pushing buttons before he gently moves the controller to the side, away from Yandere’s fingers. The interruption causes his character to drop from first to fourth, but once he has full control again, he quickly gets back to first place, making good use of power-ups, a shortcut, and probably a hundred other tricks that Dr. Iplier doesn’t know about. Yandere, for his part, abandons the controller to gawk at the screen again, and Chrome brings the controller back in front of himself, assuming his original position. Moments later, the race ends and victory music plays.

“Aga win?” Yandere asks, craning his head back to look at Chrome.

“Yep,” Chrome replies, “I won again.”

“I helb’d!” Yandere exclaims proudly.

“Sure,” Chrome says with a wry grin, “We’ll go with that.”

“I take it you two had fun?” Dr. Iplier asks, smiling a little at the look of surprise that flits across Chrome’s face.

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” Chrome mutters. Yandere doesn’t seem to notice the lack of enthusiasm, as he’s too busy being excited to see Dr. Iplier.

“Dada!” he cries, reaching out in his direction.

“You didn’t miss me too much, did you?” Dr. Iplier asks him as he approaches Chrome to pick him up. Chrome lets him, getting up from the couch as Dr. Iplier settles Yandere in his arms.

“He never called for you, so I’d say not,” Chrome says with a only a touch of smugness.

“Alright, alright,” Dr. Iplier laughs, “I’m guessing you warmed up to him?”

“Yeah,” Chrome admits grudgingly, “I guess I did. But keep it to yourself.”

“Sure,” Dr. Iplier agrees, now with his own smug look. “Can I at least count on you to watch him in the future if need be?”

Chrome looks at Yandere who, despite happily clinging to Dr. Iplier’s lab coat, is looking at Chrome with a big, excited smile, the day’s tears seemingly forgotten.

“Yeah,” Chrome says again, not nearly as grudgingly this time.

[seenashwrite]

Hello, I’m Gone

Word Count: 5.4K   Category: One-shot; Behind-the-scenes canon-compliant; Baby/The Impala; Choices; Personal growth; Heart-grabber; Life, love, and family  Rating: Teen & Up  Character(s): Reader/Female O.C.; Male & Female O.C.s; References to familiar people/places Pairing(s): N/A  Warnings: Mild coarse language  Author’s Note(s): *This is a re-post, minus tags and links, in an effort to make it show in searches; more post-story Overall Summary: Chuck told us a story about Baby’s early days. And we know how she’s spent most of her life helping the Winchesters get to where they need to go. Here’s a little of what happened in between.

The Lucchese brothers set out for America from Italy, climbed off a boat in Galveston, Texas in 1882. Enterprising fellows as they were, Sal and Joe already had a nice little thing going, a boot-making shop out at Fort Houston, over in San Antonio, by 1883. Sal was a nut for machinery, really turned his crank - any word he got about something that might rev things up, well, he wanted to be the first to try it.  

The Luccheses became known for their hands-on approach, helped by those machines, sure, but only so’s they could give their work a boost. And they refused to cut corners, not even a little. The brothers believed that you should do things right, didn’t matter how busy you got.

Right around the turn of the century, their boots were coming in at around ten bucks. By the early parts of the 1900s, they were around $40 a pop. Then came the Hollywood bandwagon, handfuls of actors showing up wearing the Italian-meets-Western creations as word spread - back in that day, couldn’t just turn on a TV or expect to see ‘em plastered on billboards. Word of mouth and reputation go a hell of a long way.

The singer-songwriters and actual cowboy-types came along. And in the 60s, when style was starting to take a left turn, those boots were still hanging around. Hell, even the White House got in on the action - I’d heard some of the Kennedys got measured and fitted. Johnson, too.

Which, you should. I did. It wasn’t cheap, but worth it. You plan to surround yourself with something, day in and day out, you best make sure it’s a good fit. So I dished out some of the precious savings I’d squirreled away and got two good fits. Just in case I needed to walk.

And I would’ve walked, all the way, if I’d had to. I had 'em for a year, good and broken-in, those dark cherry-red dreams that came almost to my knees. Short legs, short strides, but I was determined.

They’d turned into what I thought were the most important boots - maybe the most important things - in the world. They kept me going, just needed to glance down at them, like they were a talisman. If I believed in that sort of thing.

Still. Funny how things can do that for you, and the people around you can’t. Won’t.

I’d been planning over that year of boot-breaking. To get out. Get gone. Away from that shithole outside Dallas, out of Texas completely. The boots set me back, my waitressing tips and the cash from hocking what little jewelry Momma’d had never quite plugging the hole. Especially when lots of it kept disappearing from my purse, went to his beer and liquor. And his girls on the side.

I stole his piece of garbage truck. I had the spare key, made sense with all the driving I did in it, picking him up from the bars when they’d announced everybody didn’t have to go home, but they couldn’t… well, you know the rest. And sometimes he wouldn’t head home and I’d find him wandering back from a cheap motel along the potholed road that led to the house. His house. His TV. His food. His furniture. His guns.

Stole one of those, too.

The world had sailed into the 70s while I was sailing nowhere. I had nothing to my name but some clothes, my picture of Momma and Daddy the day they got hitched, and my boots. Only brought what I couldn’t do without. A small start, but I figured it was better than nothing.  

I still lacked a surefire way to get me where I wanted to go. Wherever that was. Figured I’d know once I got there. I knew the boots would be loyal long as they could, but they weren’t gonna take me all the way. I wasn’t sure what could.

I got a feeling that would change when I spotted that big black dream, parked all lonely in somebody’s yard. A handwritten “FOR SALE BY OWNER” sign was taped inside the back window. It was dirty as all get-out, had a crack in the passenger side window, a bent fender, and one of the back tires needed air in a bad way.

But it hung with me well after I’d passed it, walking towards civilization and a phone, after I’d gone and got the truck stuck in reverse. Not too bad, though. Gotten as far as Lubbock without doing worse.

I’m not proud of it, pulling my gun on the guy I’d hitched a ride with. It was after my suitcase wheels had long got useless, my boots all muddy, and I was a wet rat, trudging down the road in a quick summer rainstorm, a mile gone from that car my brain kept chewing on. He had kept putting his hand on my knee, though. Wouldn’t listen to my polite - or my not-so-polite - rebukes.

So I tolerated it til we were close to a service station, and that hand sure did fly off quick when he heard the cock of the hammer.

I’d now chewed on that car til all the flavor was gone, even as I got a tow for the truck. I had plenty of cash for the tow, didn’t let on, though, as I talked the guy down with a little flirting. I’m sure changing into a sundress in the service station’s bathroom helped that along.

Had to cruise around a touch, before I found the turn-off from the paved to the unpaved, then about four more miles to the modest older house with the huge yard. As I pulled in, I saw it. Saw clean through all the bumps and bruises, right to the beauty underneath.

I’d parked and turned off the truck, then just stared at it with a slightly dropped jaw, my hand lingering on the keys that were still stuck in the ignition.

The creaking of a screen door and a hearty chuckle startled me out of the reverie. My hand reflexively shot from the keys to my purse. But the sweet, round, smiling face of the portly man in overalls leisurely coming down the porch steps, then across the yard towards me, set my mind at ease. Long time since I’d been this close to a man that didn’t give me the willies. Still. I rolled down the window but didn’t get out.

He finally reached me, resting a forearm on my door, but not intruding, the cotton of his rolled-sleeve shirt just peeking in. I briefly let my eyes close. A breeze had wafted by, and I caught the heavenly scent that told me his clothes had been hung on out on lines to dry in the Texas sun. It reminded me of Momma. His well-worn ballcap reminded me of Daddy.

The chuckle still floated over his words as he spoke.

“Well, we were waitin’ on you to knock, but I told the Mrs. we’d be waitin’ awhile, since you’d gotten a good look at 'er!”

I blinked, said, “Oh. Oh, I… how long have I been sitting here?”

Another chuckle.

“Not too long, just long enough. You want to come sit on the porch? I got hollered at before I came to get you that lemonade’s almost ready.”

I nodded, and he opened the door, seemed to understand when I hesitated and wanted him to walk ahead of me instead of the other way around. I snatched my purse off the seat and brought it with me. Just in case.

We had barely sat, he on a crate that I wondered at, not sure how it was managing his size, and me on the porch swing, when a woman came out of the house, rear-end first. Her backside pushed open the screen door, her hands busy with a tray. A pitcher full of what turned out to be the best lemonade I’d ever had in my life sat atop it, alongside three plastic tumblers.

I drank two-and-a-half’s worth before I spoke, and they were kind enough to keep pouring, waiting patiently. They looked about the age Momma and Daddy would’ve been, though maybe not as worn. Seemed peaceful out here where they were.

“I don’t like the truck,” I said when I finally spoke, a real great opener.

They had easy smiles on their faces, but didn’t reply.

“I like that,” I clarified, turning my head slightly, pointing back to the car.

“You know anything about cars like that, hon?” the man asked.

I opened and closed my mouth a few times, then just shook my head. But after a second thought -

“I know they’re fast.”

Now, I couldn’t tell you what my face looked like when I said that last part, but I can tell you that woman’s eyes shifted from bright and shiny to something a little more somber.

Her husband didn’t seem to notice anything, just kept smiling and nodding his head.

“A little too fast for me, I tell ya what,” he said. “We’ve only had 'er a few years, I’ve kept 'er in shape, she’s always run like a dream—”

“She?” I cut in.

“Oh, something that pretty ain’t a boy,” he informed me, and his wife’s eyes went to sparkling again as she laughed.

“We have two boys,” she informed me. “Rough and tumble, right out the gate.”

“I’m afraid that’s how the crack happened,” he went on, then paused, but I could tell he wasn’t angry.

“Long story?” I asked, a smile of my own starting to appear. It was infectious. These people felt like family, and I’d known them about five minutes. Those were damn lucky boys.

Another rumbling chuckle.

“Well, it’s just a crack, anyways. No sense in getting worked up over the little stuff, ain’t that right?” he replied, looking over to his wife, who’d come and sat by me on the swing.

She nodded, then looked at me. "You got any kids?“

I shook my head. "No, ma'am.”

“Just as well. That car….” She trailed off with a bit of a tsk and a head shake. “I never felt quite right, when he’s run around with the boys in it. Fast, like you say. Made me nervous.”

“Aw, honey, now, we can’t keep 'em home forever,” her husband said, but with love, not criticism.

“Why’re you wanting to sell?” I asked.

He sighed, said, "Just too tight on me, on my knees and such. Need a little more room now-a-days.“ He glanced to his wife as he patted his belly. "If your cookin’ wasn’t so good—”

“Then we’d have never stayed married this long,” she finished for him. She looked back to me, saying, “And we’ve got a station wagon that’ll do just fine for now. No sense in keeping it.”

I nodded.

A few moments of silence, all of us taking sips of our lemonade.

“I, ah… what price were y'all thinking of?” I asked, hating how tiny I sounded. Maybe even how desperate. Well. I was.

He opened his mouth to respond, but she put her hand lightly over mine and spoke first.

“You say you don’t care for that truck - well, what if we make it part of the deal?”

She and I both glanced to him.

He raised his eyebrows, thought for a second. “That might not be a half-bad idea. Got good leg room?”

I nodded. “Yessir. I have to have the seat scooted all the way, and then my boots help some.”

“Those are lovely boots,” she commented.

“Thank you.”

“You are a slip of a thing!” he said. “Let’s get you in the Impala, though, make sure those boots’ll get you to the pedals, whatcha say?”

Now I nodded like crazy, I couldn’t help it. They were going to take me for all I had, I was starting to believe. Or it would be too rich for my blood. At least I’d get to sit in it, just for a little while.

It was clean-as-a-whistle inside. The way they’d talked about their boys, I’d have expected stale french fries and milkshake stains everywhere, but there wasn’t a sign telling me this car wasn’t anything except beloved. I laid my hands on the steering wheel.

Hi, there, pretty lady.

“Oof!” I muttered.  The door had stayed open, and he’d pushed the seat forward abruptly.

“Well, look-a-there, like a glove!” he announced, and he was right.

Granted, the seat was up all the way, but I wasn’t just using my tip-toes. My foot was centered on the pedals. I sunk just the right amount into the seat.

“I don’t reckon you’ll need 'em to drive, but them boots, they look awful fine in there,” he commented, in only a slightly leading tone.

But he wasn’t trying to woo me, he was just stating a fact. They did. It was a perfect fit.

I was sold.

“Now, she’s up to date on 'er check-ups, you ain’t gotta worry about that or oil changes or whatnot anytime soon,” he went on. “And ain’t nothing wrong with that back tire, it was just a little nail and it patched up fine, I just haven’t got around to fillin’ it back up.”

I ran my hand along the leather seat. My purse was still hanging across me. They were older. They were sweet. I could’ve stolen it, I bet.

Could’ve stopped in a grocery store parking lot, changed the tags. Be long gone out of the state, just keep changing them whenever I crossed a county line. Make our time together last as long as I was able.

“Your face is all wound up,” he pointed out, and I looked up at him to find that steady kindness staring back.

“I don’t have a lot of money,” I said softly.

“We can talk that over, hon. I need something—”

I nodded.

“—but I’d rather take less than, to have 'er go to someone who loves 'er, instead of lining my pockets three times over.”

A glance over the roof of the car. I followed suit, looking through the cracked window. The porch was empty.

“The boys are stayin’ over at a friend’s, and I know that woman’s still cooked enough to feed everybody in town. You wanna have a little supper before you head back out?”

It was the best meal I’d had in years.

“I was thinking,” I began timidly, once the meal was over.

She had stood, picked up her plate and was reaching for mine, when she slowly sat back down. I wasn’t looking at them when I began. When I brought my head up, they had something akin to sympathy on their faces.

What I must’ve looked like to them.

“I have about four hundred dollars,” I said, pulling the strap over my head and setting my purse on the table, then opening it. "And, then this… um… please don’t let me scare you or anything.“ I gingerly pulled out the handgun and set it next to my scraped-clean plate. "This can be part of my pay, too, and the truck, well, it tends to stick in reverse, but I took care of that earlier, and I don’t know what size shoe you wear, ma'am, but these are Luchesses, I don’t know if you know of those, but they’re real real nice when they’re not muddy, they’re only a year old, and you could probably get good money for 'em….”

I let my rambling drift off, those sympathetic stares still trained on me.  

“Never… never mind,” I said quickly, scooting my chair back and standing. “Y'all have been real kind, I appreciate the supper.”

They shared a look, and when I moved to pick up my purse and the gun, her soft hand once more covered mine.

“Now hold on there, missy,” she said in a slightly firm tone, one I assumed she typically reserved for the menfolk of her home.

“You’re gettin’ ahead of yourself - take that chair, then take you a deep breath,” he chimed in.

I nodded, did as instructed.  

“That gun’s not scary,” she told me, after I’d sat and looked back to her, her hand now holding mine, resting them both on the table. “We’re in Texas.”

The reminder set that twinkle to spark in her eyes, and I laughed.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“That truck run good otherwise?” he asked.

“Yessir,” I said, then paused. “It ain’t as clean inside as the… the…”

“Impala.”

“The Impala. Um, I… didn’t stop to… I didn’t have time to get all the beer bottles and cans and… well, it’s messy.”

“Messes can be cleaned up."

It was an easy-going response, and I gave him a look that I hope conveyed my thanks for it before I went on.

“Oh, the tires! I know two new tires got put on last summer… I don’t remember which, though.”

I was combing my brain for anything else I could tell them. Anything to make them want anything of mine. Anything of worth. I had so little of worth.

She released my hand and patted it, then looked to her husband. "Help me get these dishes to the sink,” she requested, standing and beginning to gather.

“I can—” I started, beginning to stand.

“No no no,” she fussed good-naturedly. “You’re company.”

He heaved himself up with a grunt, picking up his plate and following behind her to the kitchen. I stood the rest of the way anyway, glancing around. The dining area bled into the den, and I found myself looking at the pictures on the walls, drinking in the stories they told me like they were porch lemonade.

Good. Those boys were loved but good.

They came back in then, and I turned, kneading my hands behind my back.

He had papers in his hands, and they both had tiny grins on their faces. He set the papers down on the table, ambled towards me, hand outstretched, palm up.

“Gimme yer keys, lemme go see about how that truck’s running.”

I felt a flutter in my heart. Quickly retrieving them from the table, I handed them over immediately. After the screen door slammed shut in his wake, I looked to her.

“And that’s a .22, ain’t it?” she asked, pointing to the table, to the gun.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Well, we’d been on the lookout for a little something for me to have when I’m out alone, which is gettin’ to be more routine these days, since the boys seem to be off on adventures all the time.”

“Yes, ma'am,” I repeated. Then I looked down to my boots.

“No,” she said, again in that firm, no-nonsense voice. I looked up to stern eyes and a jerk of a head shake.

“Yes, ma'am,” I whispered, feeling a touch of moisture hit my eyes, and it hit my cheeks, but two quick swipes from her and they were gone.

“Go on, bathroom’s down the hall on the left.”

When I came back out, he was sitting at the table, the papers in front of him, my keys nearby. She was peering over his shoulder, pointed at something, and he nodded, bringing his pen to that spot and scribbling. They looked up at the sound of my boot heels on the floor.

“Hon, I glanced in the glove box, didn’t see any registration,” he said almost carefully.

Damn. I couldn’t think of the last time that shitbird had kept up with things like tags and insurance and registration. And I could’ve kicked myself for not tearing apart the house for the title. I just hadn’t been thinking. Just packed, went to the diner to quit my job, and drove.

“I don’t– it’s not– it’s not actually–”

“I’m gonna be straight here, sweetheart, and you shoot me straight, too.”

“Yessir.”

“Anybody gonna be lookin’ for that truck?”

Is anybody gonna be lookin’ for you?

I shook my head, and this time my voice came out with one-hundred percent certainty and conviction:

“No, sir.”

A nod, then back down to the papers, more scribbling. She caught my eye, gave me a wink. The tiniest of smiles came to my face, and I found myself working my hands behind my back again, this time a different sort of nervousness coming over me.

Once he’d set his pen to the side, he looked over at me. "That’ll be three-hundred and a couple of John Hancocks, young lady.“

I inhaled and exhaled a shaky breath, practically lunged at my purse, pulling out the wad of cash, all three of us soon counting aloud. I had a $50, but other than a smattering of $1s, the rest were $20s. It ended up with $310 on the table.

"Keep the change?” I offered.

Two nods, two smiles.

I signed the paperwork, one a copy for them, then he picked up mine and walked over to a hutch, pulling an envelope out of a drawer. She handed me a - my - shiny key.

“What all do you need off your key ring?”

I looked at her with a grin that made my cheeks ache. “Not a thing.”

He sighed as he stuffed the papers into the envelope. “Well, Junior’s gonna have a fit, sharing a truck with me instead of the Impala.”

She snatched the envelope from him, passed it to me, then grabbed him in a one-armed, but fairly tight, sideways hug. She was the picture of bliss, knowing her sons wouldn’t be speeding around town like a jet bolt of lightning. He freed his arm, put it around her and squeezed back, letting out one of those chuckles that sounded like music to my ears.

I clutched the key to my chest like they clutched each other.

“Oh, your purse, honey,” she suddenly said, seeing as how I’d been turned towards the door in a bit of a haze, staring out the screen at my new partner in crime.

He helped me get my suitcase into that canyon of a trunk, then they guided me as I backed it up, doing a slow three-point-turn in the yard, straightening out onto their unpaved driveway. They came up to the driver’s side window, which I’d left down to hear their instructions. Now they fussed over me like I was one of their own. It was nice.

“You know where the closest gas station is?” she checked.

I nodded. “I was there earlier.”

“Now, you get straight there, get that tire filled all the way up, hear? Don’t get on no highway til you do,” he said.

Another nod. “Yessir.”

“You’ll be safe in ‘er,” she told me, leaning in to give me a little peck on the cheek.

“She’s traveled a lot in ‘er short life,” he added, patting the hood. A pause, a bit of a side-eye. “You don’t sell Bibles, do ya?”

They both snickered.

“Ignore him, hon,” she told me. “My best friend in Iowa’s the one we bought the Impala off of, she hated to sell, though - it had got her the hell out of Wisconsin after her husband died. He was one of them 'come-to-Jesus’, 'the-end-is-nigh’ types, went all over the state passin’ out the Good Book.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“The booze and the fried cheese caught up to him, dropped dead before he got to see his apocalypse,” she responded wryly and with an eye roll.

Then, despite her claimed nervousness and dislike for the Impala, I watched as she almost lovingly stroked the door beside me.

“Never thought that was a good enough life for her,” she commented softly, then brought her eyes to mine.

“I’ll make sure,” I whispered, answering her unasked question.

“She’s gonna get you there,” he told me. “Fast as you need, far as you need.”

And I believed him. Believed in them. Believed in her.

I topped off the gas, watched as one of the station attendants filled the tire with air. I leaned back in, opened my purse to go pay - and I gasped. The gun was there, a small sliver of pie inside a plastic sandwich baggie tucked next to it.

It was seventy-two degrees as I sailed out of Lubbock, and not too dark, but I turned on the headlights anyway. Sweet lord, did they cut through the night. I would see anything coming at me.

I laughed out loud, letting the wind whip my hair with fury, glad for once that it was still on the short side, else I wouldn’t have been able to enjoy the feeling as much. I hadn’t bothered to check the radio before signing on the dotted line - it didn’t seem important. I could live without music if I had to, it would be fine.

So before I got on the highway, at the last red light before the on-ramp, I took a moment to unwrap my little slice of love, setting it in my lap. Moment of truth. I put my fingers to the knob.

CLICK

“Son-of-a-bitch!” I squealed, flooring the engine as soon as I hit the highway, banging my hands against the steering wheel, laughing like a maniac in between taking bites of the pie.

The speakers were not as loud as that engine, but goddamn, were they close.

“I’m sorry!” I yelled over the wind and the engine and the radio, apologizing to that heaven-sent hunk of metal for my sticky fingers as I reached for the dial, turning it off of one of the more recent hits that they’d been playing incessantly at the diner.

Anything that reminded me was like nails on a chalkboard. That would fade. I would learn to ignore it.

But not tonight.

“Aaaaahhhh!”

I was screaming again, couldn’t believe it when I heard the start of a song which was very familiar, had good memories attached to it.

“You hear that?!”

I patted the dash rapidly a few times, like I was getting the car’s attention.

“This was one of Momma’s favorites! She and Daddy would stop and dance when it came on!”

I cranked it up more, singing so loudly I’d almost drowned out Mr. Buddy Holly himself.

Maybe baby, I’ll have you Maybe baby, you’ll be true Maybe baby, I’ll have you for me

It was an old song, one from the fifties. I was little, but in my mind, I could still see Daddy’s huge smile and see Momma’s shocked expression, followed quickly by a fit of giggles as he’d whip her around, then dip her down when that song came on the radio. I always wondered why she was surprised - he did it every damn time.

“Love you, baby,” he’d tell her, when the song ended and they were standing close, still swaying a bit.

“I love you back, baby,” she’d reply, like clockwork. Every damn time.

A few tears slipped out, but they were replaced with a smile. I turned down the radio when the song ended. Then with one hand, I folded up the baggie, stuck it inside my purse, never even crossing my mind to toss it on the floorboard or in the backseat.

There were signs up ahead giving me a few options.

“Whaddya say, babygirl - I was headed west, but we can always do somethin’ different!” I reassured the car, giving another pat to the dash.

I chose.

“That okay, me calling you babygirl?" I thought on that for a moment. "You’re not a little girl, though!”

Another moment. My thoughts went back to Buddy’s voice. To Momma and Daddy.

“I don’t got anybody to call Baby, that okay by you?”

If a steady engine and headlights with beams like stars meant a happy car, then I was gonna take it as a sign. If I believed in signs. Which, I suppose, I did.

“Oh! And…”

I had taken off my boots before driving away from the service station, laid them on their sides in the passenger seat. I’d got all the mud off of them in the bathroom after I’d paid. They had their nice touch of a sheen back, even over the scuffs, my older babies seemingly just as happy as my new one.

“…these are the boots that got me to you! Get used to 'em, they’ll be in here a lot!”

I sang along to what felt like a hundred songs til my throat got sore. We drove quietly for awhile. I was a nervous wreck leaving her alone, but I was plumb exhausted, and had to get some sleep. Chasing shadows too long’ll do that.

Even so, I kept peeking out the little motel room window off-and-on for awhile. I’d asked for a ground floor room, so she could be right outside from me. I knew it wasn’t as safe for a single gal to be just off the parking lot, but I didn’t want her to be too far. Besides, I still had the handgun.

Those guardian angels of mine sure were somethin’ else.

I stopped to make a phone call before I hit the road hard. Well, two phone calls. The first was to kill the last speck of doubt.

“Yeah?”

“Hello,” I replied calmly, gazing out the phone booth at Baby.

“Where the hell—”

I smiled. “I’m gone.”

Daddy had relatives in Kansas, second cousins, but I remembered their kids from when I was younger, when we’d drove up to visit a few times. Pen-pal’d for a little bit with one of the boys, we’d kept up over the years. So I dropped in a dime, dialed a better number.

“Wow! You did it!”

I giggled. “I know!”

“You need to come stay with us?”

“If you don’t care—”

“Stop that! We’ve got the room, at least for five more weeks - I still haven’t got rid of the bed or put the crib together.”

“Well, then, I’ll help you. And listen - you’re gonna die. Or hate me. Or have a heart attack, because I’ve got a baby, too!”

My cousin’s reaction was priceless, even more so when I pulled in his driveway. I’d never seen somebody so happy for me and jealous of me all at once. And I had the same reaction when his daughter was born. It was one of the best days of my life, and before I knew it, better days kept coming.

I think the saddest day of my life was letting you go.

It’s strange, how much can change in a year. My cousin had set me up on a blind date with a friend of his, and I thought, shoot - a girl’s gotta eat, so I went. And oh, Baby, was I smitten. But you know - you were there for plenty of the kissing.

And you were there when we made our baby, did you know that? I can’t remember if I thought to tell you. Kansas tornadoes are just that way. Swoop you up into all kinds of craziness.

It felt like a piece of me was getting cut off, watching my husband shake hands, that dealer coming towards us. Your key was cutting into my palm. My other hand was on my belly.

I didn’t do it for the money. I had to do it for the baby. The new baby. And, you know, my ankles are so swollen, I don’t get to wear my boots, if that makes you feel any better. Doesn’t me, though.

We’re moving away. Just have to drop you off, under the rainbow, how funny is that? Then we’re gone.

I owe you my life. You saved me. You’ll save others, I just know it. You’ll get 'em out of tight spots, keep 'em safe, be there for hard stuff, but you’ll be part of so much good stuff, too.

I’m leaving this for you. I’m gonna pull up a little bit of carpet somewhere, slide it in. I don’t know where yet. Just so you won’t be alone. But I don’t think you’ll be by yourself for long.

I hope whoever you end up with finds this, reads this story. That they’ll remember some roads are gonna seem far too long, but if you’re with them, time will fly. That they’ll love you as much as I do and throw on some boots and floor it and zoom into the night and go raise some hell.

I got a feeling they will.

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Re-blogs and feedback are fuel for a writer’s soul - please do let me know if you enjoyed. 😘 

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Author’s Note #2: This was originally written for the SPN Writing Challenge “Baby’s Big 50″, a celebration honoring Baby for her 50th birthday via 50 song prompts, courtesy of @butiaintgonnaloveem

Challenge Prompt: “Maybe Baby” - Buddy Holly [featured lyrics in the story]

Author Prompt: “Hello, I’m Gone” - Trisha Yearwood [full lyrics below]

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Hello, I’m Gone ~ Trisha Yearwood [written by Kevin Welch]

Somebody’s waiting back home in Dallas With no idea where she has gone Got her suitcase all packed up in the back of a pickup Got her red knee-high Luccheses on She’s on any old two-lane, westbound she knows She was chasing her shadow when the sun finally rose And, man, she’s just running, it don’t matter where She figures she’ll know where she is when she’s there And she didn’t leave nothin’ she can’t do without That’s enough reason for leavin’ no doubt She rolls down the window, turns up a song Laughs at the weather and says Hello, I’m gone She broke down in Lubbock, got it stuck in reverse So she hitched down the highway, a little gun in her purse Got to the station, and stared at the phone Found herself thinkin’ bout calling for home But she didn’t leave nothin’ she can’t do without That’s enough reason for leavin’ no doubt She dropped in a quarter, made herself strong All that she told him was, “Hello, I’m gone.” Then she called up a tow truck, said - “Fix up what’s wrong. I’m paying in cash, boys.” Hello, I’m gone