#listen man this is a much rarer occurance than you’d think

[fan-kingdoms]

i’ve gone back into avatar (atla) brainrot now that i’ve had nothing to do but rot in bed and i’m so Happy to be here oh my god it’s so rare when a piece of media i fixate on is both A. Good (good as in well made) and B. not a source of pain!!!! i’m just having a Good Time in a fixation and Enjoying the source material and it’s so NICE

[yesimwriting]

Falling Angels: chapter two

A/n took me longer to get around to writing part 2 than i thought!! i didn’t know there was an audience for this idea but im glad you guys liked it!!

Im adding a country to the grishaverse to make my story work,, def not a big deal i just needed a country in which i could control the history of without worrying about conflicting with cannon lol 

Link to part one: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/yesimwriting/652318577650696192 (lmk if this works ive never linked something to a tumblr post lol)

Series Summary: Y/n is a rising star in the most famous circus in Ketterdam because of her ability to see the future. Unfortunately for her, Kaz Brekker knows more of her backstory than he should, and he’s willing to use that to his advantage. The one thing he’s not betting on? That he doesn’t know her entire story

Chapter summary: Y/n gets a visitor before getting tricked into the most dangerous show of her life. 

Pairng: SOC x reader, Kaz Brekker x sunshine-y! Psychic! Reader 

--

My father seemed to love me more after two glasses of something amber. It was after these two glasses that he would tell me realities his inebriated self believed I needed to internalize. He’d pat my head affectionately and smiled at me as he told me that the world was a bad place. Most of his lessons are lost in my mind, but the one I remember most clearly is that there’s no such thing as a kept secret. There’s always a leak or a flaw or a factor you could not account for. He told me that if I wanted to keep a secret, I would have to decide what I was willing to risk for it. 

I know from Seria’s reaction to his presence that listening to Kaz is a risk, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take for my secret. “I don’t know what you think I am, but you’re mistaken.” It doesn’t really matter that he believes me. I have the paperwork I need to disprove him. “I have to get to my tent.” 

“The princess gets her own tent?” His words are saturated by mock casualness but I can feel his pride on how he delivered that line. 

My body is still tense from balancing over flames and his confidence only adds to my desire to unravel. I can’t get angry here. Not at him. Not with the way he grips that cane of his. “I don’t understand what--” 

“You may be able to play pretend here where no one wants to look twice at you, but I know what you are.” His stiffness leaves my skin prickling. “I know who you are.” 

I swallow back my panic. “Then who am I?” 

“You’re that king’s bastard--the one with a high bounty on her head.” Don’t back down. Even the smallest crack will confirm his story. “As long as she’s returned alive.” 

Thoughts of what my father would do to me if ever given the chance strike me with more anxiety than his presence does. “I’ve heard of the girl you’re talking about,” I admit, the lie leaving me as easily as the air leaves my lungs when I exhale. “But I’m not her.” 

“You’re not from Ketterdam, if you were you would have known who I was after you friend referred to me as Dirtyhands.” I have no defense, but I never claimed to be from Ketterdam. “You make your business claiming to be a psychic.” I am a psychic, but now is not the time to make that argument. “Elkosa is a relatively small and self efficient port kingdom, the island is nothing more than a jagged coastline barely larger than Ketterdam, but I have connections in all places.” He knows someone from Elkosa? I have to fight the instinct to move all of my weight on the balls of my feet, prepared to run. “A captain of the royal fleet told me the story of the night the King’s bastard ran into the meeting room the night before ten ships were meant to sail to Ravka.” 

He studies my reaction as I struggle to keep my expression blank. “None of that seems connected.” 

“Patience is a virtue most Saints are familiar with.” I roll my eyes. “The bastard couldn’t have been more than nine at the time, but the guards did not want to let her in. The King told them to let her interrupt. The sailor noted this because he had never made an exception to his meeting before. The girl described a nightmare to her father, a nightmare of a storm and ten dead birds. The king did not comfort her, she finished her story by saying that he asked to know about all of her dreams. She went back upstairs and the King continued the meeting as normal but the next day the King cancelled the trip.”

I remember that night as the night I realized that if I’m not careful, I’ll feel what I see in my visions. It felt like I was drowning. I felt the death of each of those men and instead of comforting me, my father nodded once like I had offered him advice and sent me back to my room. “And?” My defense is weak, my mind too lost in the memories of drowning. “Many smaller countries are superstitious.” 

“The next day the worst storm to have impacted that ocean occurred. For four nights and three days the storm continued.” 

I press my nails into my palms. “You don’t believe that I am precognitive, so that sailor’s unverified story has nothing to do with me.” 

“A princess that can see the future disappears at the same time a failing circus hires a girl who has no business in this city who claims to be able to see the future.” He adjusts his stance, taking pressure off the cane as if he’s preparing to need to use it for something else. “I am not fool enough to believe in coincidence.” 

“And I am not fool enough to crack beneath the vague threats of a man. In my experience, men always threaten with a blade when really all they’re in possession of is a butter knife. Try to drag me from here kicking and screaming, find a way to incapacitate me and put me on a ship to Elkosa, but when the King sees that you brought him a stranger he will have your head.” 

He blinks, expression hard as stone. I tense, preparing for a physical blow. “I didn’t expect you to be a half-decent liar, but I should have.” I bite my tongue to avoid resorting to something I can’t take back. Like begging. “Even if it’s in only half your blood.” 

“I am not her.” My stubbornness burns more than the need to survive. I inhale, hoping to shake the grasp of the sensation but it only worsens. The pinch of dread in my chest is heavy and familiar. A vision. 

No. Not now--not in front of him. I push against it even though I know that only makes it worse. Not now. Not now. I should be grounding myself but all I can think about is how stupid I am and how bad this situation is.

--

“I’m not an idiot, I know to be quiet. I see myself crouched somewhere dark. 

“Being defensive doesn’t make you any more intelligent.” It takes me a minute to recognize Kaz in the darkness. 

We’re somewhere small, our backs against the same wall but our shoulders do not touch. This vision is enshrouded by the feel of panic. 

This other me grimaces, but her eyes lack anger, “Remind me why I agreed to help you again?” 

“You never told me why,” he admits, “you can change your mind on participating and I can change my mind on whether or not you're more useful than your father’s money.”

Something loud crashes from behind the door we’re both staring at. “You’ll have no use for me or my father’s money if we die here.” I squeeze my hands together. 

He hesitates, “My ghost will.” 

The future-me almost smiles. “I wonder if I’ll be able to see ghost futures.” I hesitate, something strange behind my eyes. “I wonder if that can exist, if there’s a future beyond endings.” 

Future-Kaz is silent for a long second. “There should be,” he says, “for someone like you, at least.” 

I watch the way I take in his words. “You’d be there, too,” my voice is low, “your ghost at least.” I turn my head, staring at the door instead of him, “If you weren’t, I’d miss the brooding.” 

--

The vision leaves me with sweaty palms and swirling thoughts. All of my visions do that. Not all of them make me feel so confused. Apparently, he needs help and I agree to do so. At one point we’ll be pushed into a life or death situation and I won’t loathe him. 

I blink twice, forcing myself to hold onto the reality in front of me. I don’t have to agree--the future isn’t set in stone. For all I know tomorrow morning I’ll have a vision in which he kills me. 

“Are you ignoring me?” 

Shaking my head, I turn to face him. “You need help.” I don’t wait for his reaction. “You’re not here to return someone to the King of Elkosa, you’re here because you need someone that can see the future.” 

“I--” 

“It’s not that you won’t take me to Elkosa, it’s that you’d rather use my abilities for something.”

I’m confusing him again, but that’s okay. I’d rather deal with him confused than angry. “I need to know how a certain business deal of mine is going to be worth what it costs.”

He’s spent the entire time claiming he doesn’t believe in my power. Was that some kind of tactic? In the vision I saw, despite the panic surrounding the situation I didn’t feel panicked around him. The probability of that future occurring is probably low. I’ve been wrong before, the future changes too much for me to know everything. 

“That’s not how readings work,” I admit, “I don’t have that much control on them. Most of them come to me randomly. The events I see always involve me or someone I care about to a certain capacity. I can give someone a general glimpse into their future but I can’t promise I’ll see what they want. Sometimes I can see the general vision by just focusing on their energy but usually I need some physical contact for it to work.” That seems like a fair explanation. “Oh--and not all of my predictions come true, most are blurry, few are solid--the future is always moving.” 

Wait...the vision I saw where I was with Kaz wasn’t blurry. Those can be wrong, but it’s much rarer. Do I really agree to this? 

“Then maybe I should make it involve you.” His aggression has me forcing myself to stand my ground. He can threaten me all he wants but that won’t change things. “Or take the money your father would give me and cut my losses.” 

Every time I’ve purposefully destroyed a solid vision, something bad has happened. I’m genuinely considering it. “What do you need a psychic for, anyways?” 

“To get through the Fold.” 

Despite everything, I laugh. “I’ve never seen anyone get through the Fold, literally or in my visions.” 

He’s unphased by my doubt. “It’s happened.” 

I really don’t want to help him. “Well then good luck, I’m happy to part ways here.” 

I manage one step forward before he moves his cane in front of my path. I’m getting tired of this. “You’re assisting me one way or the other, whether that aid will be financial or through your services is up to you.” 

Anger pinches in my stomach the way it often does when I’m told what to do. The one thing centering me is the vision still reflecting in my thoughts. There’s no denying it--I had felt comfortable with him. There is a future in which I feel comfortable with him and I’m not sure I’ll be able to avoid it. 

“I won’t get in trouble for you,” I tell him, “The Ringmaster holds onto those indentured to him, especially the commodities that bring him profit.” 

There’s something stiff about his silence. I wonder if he’s always like this, pushing the weight of his presence onto those around him without saying a word. “When I have a goal, it is achieved. I’ll speak to him.” 

I cannot imagine a conversation I want to be involved in less. The Ringmaster and this man that Seria had labeled ‘Dirtyhands’. “I just had a vision--I saw your entire conversation and it ends with you missing an arm.” His stoic expression does not shift. “Okay, I’m aware that it wasn’t the funniest joke, but throw me a bone--you threatened to kidnap me and sell me to my father in order to extort me and I’ve been nothing but polite to you.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, something in his expression changing in a way I can’t read. “All you’ve done is lie since the moment you started to speak to me.” 

The optimist in me would like to think that his annoyance counts for banter. I shrug, feeling a little lighter than I did a second ago. I’m certainly not comfortable but I’m starting to see how to put up with the tension without letting it strain me. “Well, polite for my standards.” 

I let him brood. “You must have done well as a royal.” 

My past cuts through the peace I managed to grab onto. It’s not his fault, he has no way of knowing what the castle was like for me. I open my mouth, but I don’t know what I’m going to say. “I had my moments,” I finally settle on, hoping the echo of pain isn’t visible behind my eyes. 

I guess it doesn’t matter if he sees me bleed. He’s heartless, and I hate sympathy. 

“Y/n,” Seria’s voice is genuine anger, “You’ve turned into an idiot--first the tightrope walk and now entertaining whatever deal he’s trying to coax from you.” I love Seria, she’s the reason I didn’t die in the street when I first arrived in Ketterdam, but she sees me as a mindless child. “Whatever he told you, whatever he promised you--it’s a lie.” 

“He hasn’t promised me anything.” I need to calm her down. Once she’s calm, everything will be normal again. “And he knows.” I don’t have to turn to feel the way Seria gapes at me. “He knows who I am, so I have to do what he wants.” 

“You never have to do anything a man is forcing onto you, y/n. We’ll find a way--” 

“Seria, it’s fine,” I reach to touch her arm, “I’ll be fine, you can’t protect me from everything and you don’t have to.” 

Kaz throws a pointed glare at the man who was with him earlier. When did the stranger get here? “Boss, she’s faster than she looked, but I have what we need to get the girl--” 

“You’re late,” Kaz sighs, bored, “she’s agreed.” 

Wait--what was he going to do if I didn’t agree? “Out of curiosity, what are you talking about?” The man blinks twice, squeezing a rag between his ring-clad fingers. “You were going to use chloroform to kidnap me, weren’t you?” 

For some reason I don’t understand, the stranger gives me a look that’s a cross between sheepish and charming. “Nothing personal.” 

“Or original.” 

Seria pinches my arm. “Y/n,” she scolds, “your sense of humor is going to kill me one of these days.” 

I cringe, pulling my arm away. “When I met you, you were pickpocketing in the pleasure district, please remember that.” 

She rolls her eyes. “An attitude like that is going to leave you without a place to sleep at night.” 

I take her comment for the empty threat it is. Every other day she’s threatening to kick me out of her private trailer so that I’m forced to fight for cots or speak to the Ringmaster about my lodging arrangements. He’d give me what I want, but speaking to him feels so slimy I’d sleep in the woods before trying it. 

“Kaz.” I turn my head in time to see the girl that gave me the advice about the tightrope walker. “We need to go, he’s coming soon--you’ll do better to speak to him in the morning after she’s gone, that way he has nothing to hold over your head.” 

“Once I’m gone?” The girl had called me a Saint. I can appeal to her. “I’m not--I’m not going anywhere, I said I’d help.” 

Her eyes widen, sympathy reflected clearly in her dark irises. “There was never a version of this in which you ended up staying here.” I hear a hint of apology in her voice. “You won’t believe me, but I promise this will be better for you.” All of her pity is gone with those, replaced by something hard.

Seria responds for me, “I think you should go.” 

“What?” 

She almost smiles, but her eyes are painfully sad. “I never wanted you to be here forever. I don’t trust these people, but I trust their ability to get you out of here, even if only for a little while. Bad things are coming, and I think you’ll miss the worst of it if you go now.” 

What she alludes to is a blade in my heart. “You want me to leave you here to deal with it?” 

“Y/n, I’ve been hurt here more times than I can count--”

“No, I won’t leave y--” 

Seria squeezes my shoulder, “It’s not forever.” When she wants something, it’s almost impossible to get around it. “Besides, if I need you, you’ll see it.” 

My world feels to have lost the vibrance of color. I’ve left so much, but I let myself believe I wouldn’t leave her. I pull her into the hug. “The moment I see a vision of you in any type of danger, I’m coming back.” I hug her even tighter when she tries to pull away so that I can whisper something in her ear, “I’ll use this opportunity to leave the Ringmaster and then I’ll get you out, and together we’ll leave Ketterdam. We’ll find your child, like you always wanted to and they’ll know that they're lucky because they’re the only kid in the world to have you as a mother.” 

She squeezes me so tightly I find it hard to take full breaths. “Two,” Seria whispers, “I have two children.”

My eyes burn as her words find their way into my heart. “I love you, Seria.” 

“I love you too, my star,” she pulls away enough so that I can look her in the eye, “you don’t like being called a Saint, but I can’t think of anyone more deserving of the title.” 

Tears prick my eyes as she releases me. “I’ll find you.” 

“He’ll be coming soon,” the girl warns, “He spoke to an advisor about wanting to find you after the show.” 

No doubt to praise the fire stunt he forced onto me. Bastard. I nod once but I don’t move. I can’t bring myself to leave Seria until the girl places a hand on my elbow. 

--

Falling Angels Taglist: @glowstick-lesbian @cashlum @whatiswrongwithpeople @pass-me-jeez-it @thecraziestcrayon

[remsmoonlight]

— title : i need you

— word count : 2.1k words

— pairing : ryuji goda x reader

— summary : convincing ryuji of doing the opposite of what he’s set out to do is a pointless task, yet you will attempt if it gives him even one more day.

— warnings : blood, mentions of violence, some swearing, mentions of imagining of death, angst

notes : inspired by a prompt from here .. i had to do a self indulgent thingy for tumblr .. because why did they have to kill him off like that .. i tried to be dramatic as i possibly could

" none of this would've happened if you had just listened! "

A muffled silence drowns your hearing, the spinning of the Earth decelerates until it feels little more than a crawl with a weak grip. Rough cement scrapes the smoothness of your knee, leaving an angry blemish as grit fights to find its way into your bleeding wounds. No graze can pull you out of the deep end your heart finds itself fighting to stay above of, as you witness your worst fear painted perfectly on a canvas steeped in blood. The stillness of the air leaves you feeling flustered as your mind tries to make sense of what it observes before it, hoping that it’s no more than a deceptive trick played on itself by the fear you felt as you made your way up the tall structure.

A romantic thread of words have never failed in supply, but words left unsaid threaten to crush you under their weight, lost moments to time. A shudder of a breath shakily is let out, the cold air kick starts your body as you push yourself up and scramble to where the battered and bloodied body of Ryuji lays, almost motionless in pain. A childish cry to wake up from this nightmare is all you can think of, but reality does not bend to the whims of humanity, it continues with the path it has set. Resentfully, you can see the similarity that it shares with the male.

“ none of this would've happened if you had just listened! “ A broken cry full of fiery misery lick at the delicate snowflakes that descend from the heavens with a short lived grace, full of threats to burn as they penetrate your space.

The shock of the vibrancy of the liquid that escapes Ryuji leaves time standing still, you care not however, your fingertips gripping a heavy shoulder as the other lends a gentle touch to his cheek. Pain and grief masks itself as anger. You sorely wish to blame someone or something, but you had warned him.. You’d tried to reason with him that this course he’d set would leave him chasing an unattainable taste of sweetness of satisfaction that would dull with each day that dawns. A strong will that had left you in an addictive awe leaves you with a decaying taste in your mouth now, it creates an impossible amount of scars on your soul.

“ ‘Guess I should’a listened to ‘ya after all. “ He reluctantly answers, the humour unable to battle the drain out of his voice completely.

“ Why couldn’t you have just let this lie? “ A ticking pulls your attention away for a fraction of a passing second, a groan causes you to turn back.

“ Was always gonna end this way. “

A weakened grip that belongs to Ryuji ignores the resistance from his body, enduring the pain from the movement in order to experience skin against skin contact for himself once more. He wishes he could have found it within himself to have turned left, but he’d have lost himself without this self imposed purpose, fading into the background. It was selfish, to bring you into his world.. But to him? You’re an unfinished book, your words inked with glittering star dust that etch themselves into existence. He was unable to tear him away from your pages that you may have worn like wings. Selfish. To know how his story would end, yet knowing he would not be around for yours.

“ No. “ Your lips close, pushing against each other to numb the other, your features twisting into an aching grimace.

“ Can’t stop it now. “ he insists, brows drawing together as he scrunches his eyes up from the agony that throbs through every inch of flesh. “ Shit’s set in stone now. “

“ Stop it! “ You sob, hating how vulnerable you sound.

There is a sorrowful beauty in the scene, notes Ryuji. Pale beams of moonlight triumphant until the point of reaching your body that blocks it. Leaving no more than a radiant glow surrounding your head, providing an inhuman glow that illuminates your body as much as your soul — a wistful image that he’s glad to witness once more. Your being here is something of a majestic collision into a door to his person he’d fought to keep locked, if this is a departing gift he would gladly take it. He’d thought the last time he saw you would be when he unwillingly shared his plan, should this ending occur, he could take comfort in there not being a picture of you waiting at the door waiting for the other half of you to walk through the door, only to be met with a crushing realisation of never seeing him again. Only, he’d not expected you to follow in his tracks, not after he’s ignored your pleas of turning away from this path.

“ Ya better get outta here, ‘place is gonna blow soon. “

“ Not without you. “ you argue, refusing his direction — your grip strengthens ever so slightly, fearing the winter breeze has the power to boldly grow and tear you away from the man.

“ Ya got’a whole life ahead of ya. “ A twist of his heart is the dominant sensation he notices at the thought.

He wishes he could be there for it, to see the petals of your success bloom in the depths of your determination. One thing he could never understand was how, despite the tainted reputation that follows him like a shadow, never had been enough to put you off. Not a criminal tie to your name and you voluntarily merged your time and energy with his, with little care. Perhaps that’s where an addiction to his selfishness began. All his life and his Yakuza connections secluded him from genuine human connections and you’d trampled all over that with your impartial view. Many would prefer to cower in their fear, you’d scratched past the surface to see who he could be capable of being.

All the time spent together, and yet he still craves more. To linger in your orbit, time is his nemesis — for he still feels as if there has not been enough. Not the hours spent with the sun setting and you’re there by his side, when he’d spent more time committing the wonder at such a simple thing to his memory. Not the darkened hours spent together surrounded by silken sheets, and all that graced his ears was a musical symphony of breathy moans as you set about learning each other’s bodies. Never were the hours spent talking in order to hear the passion in your voice when speaking about something that interests you enough for him.

“ You can’t do this. “ You whimper softly, almost looking through the man you hold close. “ You can’t come into someone’s life, you can’t make them care about you and leave just because you want to. What did you think was going to happen? That I was going to sit by and let you do this? “

He says nothing, leaving space for a groan of pain to leave his lips as he tips his head back. He’s met with a darkened blanket where millions of stars are scattered so ungracefully, yet do not collide an uncoordinated dance across the sky. Uncertainty overwhelms him, over that is causing more pain — the wounds or the grief in your every word.

“ Just get the fuck outta here already. “ His voice echoes across the large space as he turns his attention back to you.

“ Were you lying all that time? “ You ask with a trembling lip at the thought of being without.

It feels like an endless amount of early mornings had been spent planning and chattering about the most random things. Your mind lighting up with the power of a thousand suns before the world had awoken around you. You can’t pinpoint the moment it happened, but the two of you awoke a little earlier than necessary to bathe in the image of the other — to forge a most perfect illusion of normalcy before stepping out into the real world. Mornings were not your most happiest bedfellow, yet you’d grown to love them just a little more when waking to the most simplest treat to sweeten your tongue.

“ What ya on about? “

“ All that time when we were talking, about what we were going to do? What we could do? ”

“ Why ya going on about that ? “ He asks curiously, eyeing you as you speak.

“ If you die, how are we meant to do any of it? “ Your words are rushed as you question him plainly.

“ Yer gonna .. just won’t be with me. “ Colour from the world feels as if it’s fading, merging into one bland monochrome depiction of a bright, bubbling city.

“ Can you stop?! “ A frustrated shriek tears from the bottom of your throat in response. “ I’m done talking in circles, I’m not dying here and neither are you. If I have to, I will drag you out with me. “

The world pauses in shock for a quiet fraction of a minute. To be spoken to in such a manner is not something Ryuji has experienced much in his life, even rarer by you — words that fell from your lips are always bathed in the sweetness of sugar, not an ounce of poison to anyone. Even the individuals who drew your temper out of its sleep were met with an incredible amount of restraint, he can hear the desperation — acting as a bucket of ice water to shock his nerve endings from the low temperature.

“ You did what you had to do. It wasn’t meant to be, but you can find another purpose. Build something else with your life, just.. Just come with me. Please. “

To be responsible for dragging you down with him, away from providing the world with your bright rays of sunshine in the bland day to day lives of everyone you came into contact with weighs heavily on his chest. Extra time spent with you, perhaps getting to know who his little sister has become are the treats tied onto a stick in front of him, life’s cruel bribe. He’d imagined how his ending would have been sketched by above, yet to have ties keeping him there had not been what he would have included. If he couldn’t be the one dragon, this would be a consolation prize that would allow for the petals of peace to bloom before he’d tear them down once more.

A strength he’d thought abandoned him glows with a dull hue, for a minute, he contemplates using that for Kiryu. Yet the other half of his soul wins the battle, a hand of his reaches out to push himself off from the concrete. It’s not an easy feat after being battered more than once, yet it’s not half as arduous as it could be with you supporting his weight — he’s fully aware how much of your strength he is using from your audible gasps of air.

“ Ya don’t gotta yell at me. “ he complains softly as he grips his side with as much force as he can dedicate to.

“ I don’t think it’s the time for this. “ You argue back quickly.

“ The red one. “

“ Huh? “ The sound escapes you as your features turn into a frown over how to get away from the ticking time bomb fast enough.

“ The lift, to get down. Press th’red one. “ He instructs you with a finger barely lifted, pointing in the direction of the button behind you.

You say nothing in response, the wheels in your mind working faster than your body as it moves purely on an instinctive reaction when receiving messages from your brain. Your stomach twists and turns from the descent to below, unable to process the way the city shifts into a state of obscurity from the swift movement. It would be a beautiful sight if it hadn’t attached a violent night as a parting gift.

“ You really scared me up there. “ You confess with barely a whisper. “ Can you promise me something? “

“ What’s that? “

“ That you won’t do something like this again. “ You say, with your heart hoping that he’d shy away from an impossible task should it present itself. Your eyes had seen enough hurt for one night, you’re confident you’d not be able to withstand it once more.

“ Wish I could. “

Teeth grind against the bottom of your lip, you should have known that he wouldn’t. Yet you also cannot find the strength to tear yourself away from the fire that burns within him, like a moth to a flame, you find yourself wondering how close you can stand against the heat before you flee from the pain it brings.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #347

“lay your head down, child  /  i won’t let the bogeyman come  /  count the bodies like sheep to the rhythm of the war drums”

Have you ever watched a whole hour long infomercial? Ha, Girt and I have one day when he was hanging out. It was about a vacuum, to be precise. Do you tend to cave into peer pressure? No. Do you think it's attractive for a man to wear eyeliner? Yeah. Are you listening to music currently? Yeah, it's this version of Manson's "Lunchbox" that I hadn't heard before. Have you ever done something you once thought you'd be too chicken to do? Yeah, like going on this one ride at a fair. Y'know, the kind that slowly brings you way up and abruptly drops you. What's your relationship to the child you’re around most? They're my nieces and nephew. Have you ever had an illegal substance in your blood stream? No. What is the worst thing that has ever happened to your hair? More than once, back when I had long hair, it would get so knotted from neglect that I'd brush out just... giant clumps of hair. The joys of depression, right? It's honestly part of the reason I cut it all off, and it's something I seriously recommend for people who struggle with brushing their hair. What do you think about cats? I adore them. Who do you want with you when you're afraid? Absolutely my mom. Who might as well just be your sibling? Ha, Sara. We're just so remarkably similar, and even when we first met in person, we clicked like it was nothing. Would you ever consider working for the government? No; I'm not working with corrupt, lying motherfuckers. What is the weirdest thing you have ever witnessed a sibling doing? Well, your sister "sleepwalking" or whatever she was actually doing and grabbing a knife she'd hidden under her mattress to creep towards her then-boyfriend was beyond just "weird." Your first best friend's name? Brianna. How do you act when you're uncomfortable? "Anxious, impatient, and fidgety." <<<< Same. It's very obvious I want to get out of the situation. What bug would you like to be extinct? Do wasps do like... anything for the environment? I don't want to give a definite answer here that ends up being ignorant, because I appreciate bugs that are even just a regular food source for more vital creatures like spiders, but I don't know a damn thing wasps do that are beneficial. They just kill bees, from what I know. Do you know anyone other than a cop who has ever owned a cop car? No. Have you ever felt fire? I mean, I've never directly touched fire, no. What would you do if your first love asked you back out? I REALLY DON'T WANT TO PICTURE THIS. Do you know anyone that is a lesbian? Yeah. What are your thoughts on roleplaying games? I think they're fun. Do you want to have a bachelor/bachelorette party before you get married? So, true story, I don't even know what those entail exactly. But considering how few friends I have, I probably wouldn't. Ever been texted by mistake and played along & acted like you knew them? No. Would you ever get a name tattooed on you? Noooo sir. Do your parents dress like they’re years younger? Does it gross you out? They don't, but it wouldn't gross me out...? They can dress however they damn well please. Obsession from childhood? Dinosaurs and Spyro probably top the list. Favorite activity to do in warm weather? Just swim, really. I hate warm weather. Favorite activity to do in cold weather? If there's snow, take pictures. If it's just cold, then I like to just stay inside and bundle up in bed. Five songs to describe you? I don't know five, but I know a few I resonate with: "Get Up" by Mother Mother, "That's What You Get" by Paramore, uhhh then idk. Best way for someone to bond with you? Hm. Probably just like... talk about life, like our stories and things we've been through, both good and bad. Just being mutually vulnerable makes me feel connected to people. I like bonding via music, too, and I find it pretty exciting to share songs and, once again, go deeper and share what they mean to you, etc. etc. In summary, I just like getting to know a person at their core. What is the first meme you remember seeing? Hell if I know. Lemonade or tea? Lemonade, by a landslide. Sci-fi, fantasy, or superheroes? Fantasy. Favorite type of cheese? American. If you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be? I relate very deeply to Henry Townshend from SH4 with saying "what the hell?" about literally everything. If you were an anime character, what genre of anime would it be? I'unno. Character you relate to? Since watching a playthrough of the game the first time, I've related to Max Caulfield from Life is Strange very deeply. An awkward photographer that cares a lot for people. Favorite website from your childhood? Webkinz. Least favorite flavor of food or drink? Grape, usually. Or orange. Favorite potato food? French fries. PC or console gaming? I prefer console games. Writing or drawing? Shit man, why you gotta make me choose? I feel much more satisfaction after drawing something I'm proud of, but I write way more. Who would you put before everyone else? My mom. How many phone numbers do you have memorized? Literally none. Do you get motion sickness? No. Have you ever been on a cruise? No. Have you ever bailed a friend out of jail? No. Have you ever won anything from a radio station? No. What do you do when you go to the beach? Swim for a while and then sit under the tent or whatever we brought and think about how ready I am to go home and get out of the heat. How many pillows are on your bed? Two. Do you like pickles? Yeah. Do you like camping? I've never been *legit* camping; Dad would just sometimes set up the tent in the yard and he and my sisters and I would sleep out there. I LOVED that as a kiddo. I think I'd enjoy like, one night of actual camping, so long as I have my camera and phone. My technology dependence would probably get me by Day #2, lol. Have you ever ridden a motorcycle? No, and I don't plan to. Wrecking in one of those can fuck you the hell up. Even with a helmet, just honestly, it seems... pretty stupid to put yourself at THAT incredible a risk. Have you ever had plastic surgery? No. Were you ever sent to the principal’s office as a kid? I don't think so... but maybe once? I have this super faint memory of being in the office, but maybe I was bringing them something from my teacher? That sounds about right. Have you ever used a slingshot? No. Have you ever driven an electric car? No. Do you live in an area that is prone to tornadoes? They happen here, but I wouldn't say we're "prone" to them. We get tornado watches/warnings a lot when we have summer storms, but it's seldom they actually occur, and it's even rarer for them to be noteworthy at all. What breed was the last dog you saw? One of our neighbors has a German Shepherd she walks a lot. How long have your parents been together (or how long were they together, if they no longer are): I wanna say around or over 20 years? I don't know. What 5 words best describe your mother’s personality? Loving, welcoming, resilient, selfless, and strong. Do you know any transgender people? Yes. Have you ever had a parrot sit on your shoulder? No, but that'd be cool. In the morning, do you eat breakfast first or brush your teeth first? I eat first. What’s something you’ve been struggling with lately? A number of things, but my weight's the real problem right now. All the weight loss progress I once made has almost been entirely erased... and I'm extremely, extremely upset about it. I'd rather move onto the next question than elaborate on this bullshit. Do you carry condoms? No, I don't have a reason to. Would you date someone with braces? Yes. Do you think people look up to you? God no. How often do you have trouble sleeping at night? Pretty much every night. Any vacations planned? No. We've never been able to afford vacations. Who were you last in a car with? My mom. Did you ever watch Sailor Moon? Yeah. My older sister was ooooobsessed. She even had the little toy wand and would dance to the theme when it came on. What do you want for Christmas? Well, it's rather early to think of that, but if I had to pull out an answer right now, it'd probably be either Venus' new terrarium (if I don't already have it) or supplies for it. If by some miracle I've been able to get everything I wanted for it by then, I would seriously love a hognose snake. If you had to get glasses would you wear contacts? I've worn glasses for many years, and I can live with it. I'd prefer contacts so I can get an undereye dermal piercing, but they're just too tedious for me. Best party you’ve ever been to? Maybe a big party my friend Summer had for one of her birthdays many years ago. We played lots of games like darts and stuff while listening to good music and just hanging out. Have you ever been surfing? I have not. Are you thinking about asking anyone out? No. Pink lemonade or regular lemonade? Pink. Chocolate or strawberry milk? Chocolate, for sure. I hate strawberry milk. Are you subscribed to a lot of channels on YouTube? Oh yes. Do you wish you had a better phone? Yeah. I mean, my phone is fine, but I particularly dislike the poor camera quality. Do you find texting fun? I'm officially becoming an old woman in that I don't really like texting anymore, but only because I make way too many typos. I would much rather type via an actual keyboard. Do you have any friends who have had twins? No. Do you have any past mistakes you’ve made that haunt you every day? Yes. Seriously. Are you bothered by something someone said to you years ago? Things especially Bryar and Colleen have said to me are probably going to die with me.

[cinaja]

Before the Wall part 18

Summary: Five hundred years before Feyre Archeron is born, the world is much different from the one she lives in. Humans are slaves, seen as little more than animals by the Fae who rule. But things are beginning to change. Talks of rebellion is spreading and on the Continent, some Fae territories begin to consider the potential gain of War. All it takes is one spark and everything will explode.

Masterlist

----

It hurts. For a few seconds, it takes all of Drakon's self-control not to scream in pain. He tries to calm his breathing, but each breath sends needles of pain shooting through his body.

Carefully, he opens his eyes. He is lying on his back on a hard bed, looking up at the ceiling of a tent. He blinks a few times, trying to clear the fog in his mind. The battle is a mess of blood and fire in his mind.  But if he is still alive, they must have won. Right?

Then, another memory resurfaces. A female with light-brown skin and curly, dark hair looking down at him – her face so very familiar. But no, he must have dreamed her. There is no way she could have been here.

Slowly, he turns his head to the side. At the first glance, the tent appears empty save for a mess of books, herbs and clothes lying strewn around. Only when he turns around a bit further does he notice the girl who is sitting curled up in a corner of the tent. Her clothes are still splattered in mud and blood and her hair is falling in her face. She looks like she didn't mean to fall asleep, just sit down for a second.

Drakon wasn't about to wake her, but, like she felt his gaze, her head jerks up and she stares at him. He stares back.

She has grown older in the last years, turned from a stick-thin girl he met in Ravenia`s palace into a grown female. And there is a new confidence in the way she holds herself. Still, there is no mistaking who she is. (Not with her face permanently burned into his mind.)

"You..." He doesn't know how to finish the sentence. She can't be here, he must be dreaming.

She grins at him and courtesies. "A pleasure to meet you again, your Highness."

"You are..." Drakon shakes his head ever so slightly, trying to clear it. "I have been searching for you. For the entire three years, I have been searching."

She frowns ever so slightly. "I didn't think you'd even remember me."

"How could I ever forget you?", he asks. Then, he notices what it sounds like and immediately wishes he could disappear into his pillow. Trust him to make the situation even weirder than it already is.

"Well, I'll assume those are the painkillers talking", the female says.

"In that case, I wish they'd do their job instead of talking", Drakon mutters.

She laughs. She's beautiful - how hadn't he noticed before?

"No more painkillers, I'm afraid", she says, "We are running low on those and have to save the rest in case we need to amputate someone - not you, don't look so worried.  But I could offer you some water." She must be one of the camp healers, Drakon realizes.

"Yes, please", he says, "Do you have any news of the battle?"

"We didn`t lose", the female says, but the way she looks as she says it implies that the victory came at a steep price. She takes a glass of water from a table and helps him drink, which is somewhat humiliating.

"How many?", Drakon asks quietly.

"Eight hundred. Five hundred of ours, three hundred of yours. We haven't counted the wounded yet, though."

Drakon curses softly. He tries to sit up and hisses with pain.

"Oh no, you don't", the female says and rushes over, "I did not spend an hour trying to stitch you up only for you to ruin it all by being an idiot." She glares at him and unceremoniously pulls up his shirt to inspect the stitches. "What is it with you soldiers and being unable to listen to your bodies? Or, you know, the healers?"

Drakon laughs, then immediately stops because it hurts. "Sorry." He gives her a sheepish smile. "And thank you for... you know, keeping me from dying. Looks like I'm in your debt twice over."

"You are in my debt?" She arches an eyebrow at him. "You saved my life, gave me my freedom. If anything, I'm in your debt."

"Your freedom should never have been mine to give, anyways. What I did was basic decency, you needn't feel indebted to me for it. And you kept me from marrying Ravenia, so it's me who owes you."

"No, I..." She cuts herself off and laughs. "This is a stupid thing to argue about."

Drakon smiles. "Indeed it is."

#"Well then, your Highness-"

"Oh please, don't call me that." He holds out his hand to her. "I'm Drakon."

"Miryam."

It's the answer to a question he hadn't known he'd been asking. And then, something else clicks. "Miryam as in one of this camp's commanders?", he says carefully.

"Maybe?"

"You've got to be kidding me!"

He can't quite wrap his mind around the fact that the female his emissary talks about in such glowing colours, the female he heard soldiers whisper about, is the same slave girl who saved him from the biggest mistake of his life. It just seems too unlikely.

"How?", Drakon asks.

But the female - Miryam - is already looking towards the camp's entrance. A shadow passes over her face.

"I can't stay", she says, "I'm sorry, but there is a lot to do. I shouldn't have fallen asleep, that was..." She shakes her head. "Do you need anything else?"

What he wants is for her to stay, but he can't say that. It isn't for him to ask anything of her.  So instead, he says, “Could you maybe send for Sinna or another one of my soldiers?”

Miryam nods, but watches him closely. "You aren't going to do anything stupid the moment I leave this tent, are you?"

"What do you expect me to do? I can't even sit up on my own."

"You'd be surprised", she says, "I once treated a soldier who thought it was a good idea to try and get up even though his insides were hanging out. Needless to say, it did not end well."

Drakon has learned his lesson that laughing is not a good idea, so he just smiles. "Don't worry. That's not my kind of stupid."

“Alright”, Miryam says, “I'll be back in a few hours to check in on you."

Then, she vanishes out of the tent. No more than five minutes pass before the entrance of the tent opens again. This time, it is not Miryam who enters, but a human man, light-skinned and brown-haired. He scans the tent before focusing on Drakon. He gives him a lopsided grin.

"Always a pleasure to find a strange male in my lover's bed."

Drakon winces slightly. It hadn't occured to him whose beg he was lying in. In spite of his assurance to Miryam, it does make him consider trying to get up.

"Given my state", he says, trying to sound light, "I think I can believably assure you that nothing happened."

The man - Jurian, he assumes - smirks. "Given your species and knowing Miryam, I'd believe you even if you weren't injured." He seems to consider and adds, "No offence."

"None taken." After what Drakon has seen in the Black Land, it is a small miracle that Miryam can so much as look at any Fae, much less him.

Jurian makes to turn around, then stops. "Thank you for helping us out there", he says, "Without you, we'd all be dead."

"You're welcome." Drakon feels awkward, accepting thanks for something he deems the bare minimum. He grins at Jurian. "I couldn't well let a commander as brilliant as you die. I heard about how you destroyed Montesere's fleet. Beyond impressive."

"Likewise. Taking the Callian pass - brilliant." Suddenly, Jurian looks a whole lot more friendly. "I'd love to talk more, but I was actually looking for Miryam."

"She left a few minutes before you arrived."

"Well, then", Jurian says, turning back to the tent's entrance. "Oh, and if you want some advice: Do as she says. I can tell you from personal experience that she doesn't like it at all when you do things like trying to get up."

Drakon has to bite back a laugh. Somehow, he has the feeling that the soldier Miryam was talking about earlier was in fact the camp's Commander.

“Wouldn`t cross my mind”, he says.

“Well, then. I`ll see you around”, Jurian says and rushes out of the tent again.

----

In the Black Land, it is customary for the dead to be burned. For dead Fae, they put up a huge pyre where the dead are barred up with some of their priced possessions (including, occasionally, still-living slaves). The burning of the pyre is a big celebration. Dead slaves usually just get burned on the spot by whoever can be bothered.

Here in the north, though, the dead tend to be buried instead of burned. Dry wood is rare, fire magic even rarer, so the dead get put into the cold earth. Miryam has always hated the idea. Being trapped in the cold earth, dirt pushing in from every side. Trapped for eternity.

And somehow, she cannot stand the thought of having the humans Ravenia killed put into the earth. These people who spent their entire lives in chains should at least be free in death.

Some of Jurian's soldiers collected the heads. Someone counted. More than one thousand heads. More than one thousand dead people - people who might still be alive if not for Miryam.

She collects the wood from a nearby forest herself. It takes her hours, but she finds enough for a pyre, refuses every offer of help. She only allows one of the Seraphim to use his wind magic to dry the wood. Then, she lights the fire and watches the makeshift-pyre go up in flames.

Jurian finds her before the pyre is entirely burnt down. Miryam is standing there, staring at the flames, when he steps up behind her. Carefully, he wraps his arms around her.

"It's not your fault", he whispers into her hair.

Miryam hasn't cried - not during the battle and not during the long hours afterwards. But now, she does. Jurian pulls her close and doesn't let go.

"I was supposed to save them", she whispers.

"You will." Jurian runs a hand through her hair. "You will."

When Miryam finally stops crying, the pyre is long burned down. Nothing but ashes is left, and those are already being blown away by the wind. She gives Jurian a small smile.

"Thank you."

He carefully lets go of her. She can see the restlessness in his stance. He is itching to get back to his soldiers, but likely doesn't want to leave her alone.

"Go", she says, "I'll be fine."

Jurian hesitates for a moment longer, then presses a last kiss on her temple and rushes off. Miryam checks in on the wounded who are being treated in the middle of the camp, but no help is needed there. The ones who were about to die are already dead, the rest is likely going to make it. So she returns to her tent.

She almost forgot that Drakon is there. He is still lying in her bed, a Seraphim female is sitting on a chair next to him. She is small, one of her wings somewhat malformed. When Miryam enters, they both turn to look at her. She stops by the entrance.

The Seraphim female smiles at her. "I'm Nephelle."

Miryam manages to return the smile. "Miryam. Nice to meet you."

Nephelle exchanges a look with Drakon, then gets up. "Well, I'll be going."

"You needn't-", Miryam begins, but Nephelle has already pushed past her and out of the tent.

Miryam sits down on the now vacant chair. She tries not to stare at Drakon. Tries not to look too uncomfortable. Her tent is her sanctuary and having an almost-stranger - a Fae no less – in here makes her uncomfortable. It means she can't let down her guard.

"How are you", she asks to cover her unease.

She doesn't want Drakon to notice. No matter what he says, she owes him her life. And she doesn't mind his presence as much as she would mind any other male. Having him here, in a way, feels right. Her problem doesn't even have to do with him personally, just the general situation.

"It hurts slightly less", Drakon says. He's watching her carefully. "Look, I'm not the healer here, but I really don't feel so bad. You don't have to have me stay in your tent, really."

Damnit. So much for not looking uncomfortable.

"We're short of beds", she says, "I'm not hurt, you are. It'd be stupid for me to have a proper bed while you don't." When Drakon still doesn't look convinced, she adds, "I really don't mind." Which is, of course, a lie.

"Come on", Drakon says gently, "This is already slightly awkward for me. I don't want to imagine what it must be like for you."

Miryam crosses her arms. "Calling people out on their obvious lies is generally considered impolite."

"Sorry", Drakon says, "But then, lying isn't really polite either, so there's that."

In spite of herself, Miryam smiles. "Well, that point goes to you."

"But seriously: I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Miryam sighs and, for once, chooses honesty. "It's not you who makes me uncomfortable, it's the situation. And if I'd send you away, I'd feel even worse."

Drakon sighs. "Well, who am I to argue with my healer?"

"Very true."

For a while, they sit in silence. Miryam fiddles around with her clothes. She is covered in dried blood, dirt and ashes. Meaning that she really, really needs to change and maybe wash a little, but there's no way in hell that she is going to undress in front of Drakon. (Even though he did already see her in close to nothing. But well, once is one time too often, no need to make it twice.) She is just about to vanish off to Jurian's tent to change, but then she remembers that it burned down during the attack.

She sighs. "I'll go to sleep if you don't mind."

Drakon nods. He watches her search for a blanket and curl up in the corner with an expression that implies he feels terrible about himself. Miryam considers telling him that she slept on the ground for most of her life, but somehow, she doubts that it would make him feel better. So she just curls up into a tight ball and closes her eyes.

Miryam dreams she is back in the Black Land, back in Ravenia`s palace. She is watching as the queen orders the part-Fae slaves brought before her. The first one, a boy a few years younger than Miryam, is forced to his knees. She tries to scream, but she can`t. She can`t move, can`t do anything as a Fae male in a dark mask draws a great sword.

Miryam jerks awake, breathing hard. She looks around wildly in the dark tent. A light flares to life and Miryam nearly screams.

"Sorry", Drakon says hastily, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. But you were thrashing around."

Miryam blushes. Great. Just great. Now she looks like an idiot in front of a foreign Fae royal. Just what she needed today.

"I had a nightmare", she says in an attempt to regain at least some dignity, "Thank you for waking me."

"Sure."

Another awkward silence follows.

Finally, Drakon says, "I heard what she did." There is no need to clarify who he is talking about. "I'm sorry."

Miryam stares down at her knees. "It was my fault." She doesn't know why she says it, she certainly didn't mean to.

"No, it wasn't", Drakon says softly, "It was Ravenia who had them killed. Not you."

Miryam wraps her arms around herself. "I taunted her, though. Even though I know what she's like, I taunted her. I may not have killed them myself, but without me, they might still be alive."

Drakon sits up a little straighter in the bed and winces slightly. Miryam has to bite her lips to keep from telling him to lie back down and that he's going to tear his stitches.

"Don't do this", he says, "Don't try to take the blame on yourself. There is always a possibility that things would have gone differently. Maybe those slaves would still be alive, or maybe Ravenia would have had them killed for another reason. And maybe..." His breath catches, he shakes his head. "The thing is, the blame is all on Ravenia. You are never to blame for the actions of a monster who is trying to ruin your life."

Miryam takes a deep, shuddering breath. She tries to blink her tears away.

"Thank you", she says softly, "that was..."

Drakon's smile turns sad. "It's what I tell myself every day”, he says.

“I`m sorry about your family”, Miryam says.

“So am I.”

Silence falls again. Miryam lies back down on her blanket and stares up at the ceiling.

“After you let me escape”, she says, “I swore to one day return and free my people. And every day since then, I have been trying…” She sighs. “You`ve been to the Black Land. You`ve seen their armies, you know Ravenia. Do you think I even stand a chance?”

Drakon is silent for a moment. Miryam continues staring up at the ceiling, unwilling to meet his eyes.

“I heard the stories about you, you know?”, Drakon finally says, “I heard that you created this Alliance, managed to get humans and Fae to fight side by side. And I heard that you challenged Ravenia during that meeting – something that probably no other Alliance member would have dared.”

Miryam blushes. She is about to tell him that he is exaggerating her importance. She was not the only one working towards the Alliance and her taunting Ravenia was more stupid than brave. But before she gets the chance, Drakon continues.

“I don`t claim to know how this war will end, Miryam. But I do no that if there`s anyone who stands a chance to go up against Ravenia and win, it`s you.”

----

A/N: No cliffhanger for this chapter😉 I'm going on holidays tomorrow and that means I probably won't update for a few weeks (due to lack of time and internet access), so I wanted to end this chapter on a nice note.

Tags: @sjm-things @herpowerisdeath

[traceytrinity95]

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[ohlawsons]

vidcalls | 01

[ RE: THE SOUND OF YOUR VOICE IN THE DARK ]

SUMMARY. Business might keep Sophie and Reyes separated after the conclusion of their work on Kadara, but that doesn't mean they can't take time for the occasional message or visit. Or: some f!Ryder/Reyes interactions post-Kadara, because Bioware didn't give us enough in-game. Spoiler warnings will be marked at the beginning of each chapter. NOTES.  i still haven't finished the game but after the archon's flagship mission and doing the 3rd/4th parts of the ryder family secrets, i had no choice but to let sophie vent about some plot stuff. mission: ryder family secrets, the fourth unlocked memory also pls note i'm pulling stuff out of my ass for reyes' past bc all bioware gave us is """destroyed records""" with no helpful info LINKS. [ AO3 ] [ FFN ] [ sophie’s tag ]

She didn’t go see Scott like she’d planned, or Captain Dunn, or even Kandros.

When Sophie left SAM Node, she went straight to the Tempest, waving off Suvi’s greeting and Liam’s concern and shut herself in her quarters — lights off, windows closed, with only the soft glow of SAM’s interface to light the room. She cried — a good, hard cry like she hadn’t had in years — until her eyes hurt and her head pounded and her throat was raw.

It hadn’t occurred to her until that morning that she hadn’t ever properly mourned her mother’s death. At the funeral, Sophie had been so furious, so angry with Alec that it consumed her; he’d always treated her mother like a puzzle — especially as the disease worsened — and watching him stare at the casket in disappointment, like his failure was more of a tragedy than her death, had been the last straw for them both. She’d only spoken to Alec in the Milky Way once, after that, and it had been about the Initiative.

But watching it all over again, seeing herself with red-rimmed eyes and tousled hair as she clung to Scott, hearing the exhaustion and grief in both of their voices — it was almost like losing her mother a second time. That hadn’t even been the worst, though; Sophie had always suspected how Alec had felt, then, but actually experiencing it, feeling the wheels turning in his mind and listening to his insistence and excuses when all Ellen had wanted was a goodbye, had been enough to reignite the years of rage she’d harbored against him.

And what was she to do now? Talk about it? Drink about it? Continue to sit in silence and sulk over it? Any of those options required dealing with the issue — to varying degrees — and it was so much easier to just ignore it.

So that’s what she tried to do.

Pushing herself to sit upright, legs crossed, Sophie leaned against the headboard of her bed and pulled a tear-soaked pillow into her lap. She squinted against the light of her omnitool as she keyed in a familiar frequency, and as she waited for the connection to stabilize it occurred to her that she must be quite a sight, in her sweats with the hood pulled up, with nothing but her orange glow of the omnitool for light.

“It’s four in the morning, Ryder.”

She couldn’t make anything out on her omnitool’s screen, and assumed Reyes was in just as dark of a room as she was. Sleeping, probably, rather than having a minor crisis. “Damn. And here I was hoping you’d have time to get really drunk and have lots of sex.”

Sophie hadn’t missed the way her voice had wavered, and apparently neither had Reyes; there was the muted sound of shuffling from the other end of the call, then a light clicked on and Sophie was treated to a view of Reyes, without a shirt and with his usually carefully-styled hair looking delightfully mussed and unruly. “I’m not normally one to turn down an offer like that, but…” He trailed off, yawning. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She fidgeted with the sleeve of her hoodie, and her resolve crumpled even without any prompting from Reyes. With a sigh, she leaned over to the panel on her bedside table and flicked on the light. “It’s stupid.  I mean, I’d be over it before I even got to Kadara, anyway.” Sophie had wanted to avoid the subject, and here she was prepared to talk through it with Reyes; she hadn’t ever done anything like this with him, and found herself wondering at what point she would have to pin a label on their thing — it wasn’t really a relationship; they weren’t really a couple —if they continued this trend of being about more than booze and sex and distractions on a hostile planet.

But Reyes was still waiting for an answer, and Sophie had more pressing things on her mind.

“It’s… Look, I’ll give you the short version because I don’t even know how to give you the long version,” she began, hugging the pillow in her lap with her free hand. She bit at her lip as she thought, not sure where the hell to even start explaining her enhanced link with SAM. “My pathfinder implant is more… complex than the others. Courtesy of my father, who apparently thought he was immortal and no one would ever have to deal with his own fucking—” With a hard sigh, Sophie let her shoulders drop and shook her head. “Not the point. Anyway, I can… see, I guess, some of his memories. Experience them.”

The hand that Reyes had been holding up, shielding his eyes from the light of his own omnitool, slowly moved so he could look at Sophie. Brow furrowing, he was quiet for a minute. “I’d like the long version of that, at some point. I think.” He frowned.

“You’ll have to get it from someone else, then, because I don’t understand it. Anyway, I…” She trailed off, teeth pressing harder into her lower lip. There was a reason she usually went to Gil or Liam when something was bothering her; Liam was just so easy to talk to — and their talks always began with him handing her a beer — and Gil had a knack for knowing when they needed to talk and when they needed drinks and a game of poker. It would be easier, she reckoned, if she was there with Reyes, instead of just on a vidcall, but then again the drinks and sex excuse might have actually worked. “SAM showed me a memory this morning, and… it was the last time I saw my mother.”

“Sophie…” Reyes pulled himself up so he was seated, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes. The crisp white sheets pooled at his waist, but Sophie was too distracted to properly appreciate the view; either way, she was more focused on the concern etched into his features, a rare display for someone normally so suave and charismatic — rarer still that it was directed at Sophie. “Tell me about her.”

Not about it, not about the memory, not about the way her anger at Alec had overshadowed her grief at her mother’s death.

No, Reyes wanted to know about her, about Ellen, about the woman whose loss Sophie could still feel years later and a galaxy away.

“She was… kind. Above everything, she was kind. She was a glass-half-full type, but she had this thing about fate and acceptance and letting some things just happen. She used to always say… to say that—” Sophie took a shallow breath, feeling that familiar lump in her throat — one she’d thought she’d worked past, thought she’d trained herself to ignore when she talked about her mother.

But it was back, and all of a sudden her room felt too small — the whole ship felt too small — and she was faced with the fact that Ellen Ryder had died over six hundred years ago and Sophie had fled the galaxy where her mother was, and all she wanted was to claw her way back through dark space to Brazil.

“The first time Alec forgot mine and Scott’s birthday was when we turned seven,” she said, trying to pull herself back to the present conversation. “Scott wasn’t ever bothered by that stuff, not even then, but I just wanted us to be a family. I remember curling up in her lap and crying for forever.” Clearing her throat in an attempt to hide the shakiness that was beginning to creep into her voice, Sophie watched as Reyes studied her over the vidcall, taking in every word she spoke.

It felt good to be so openly wanted, and while Sophie had relished his initial one-track-mind sort of interest in her physically, Reyes’ recent earnest and eager desire to learn about her, about her life and her past, was something of a novelty for her. The relative openness they’d shared since Sloane’s death was… nice, and Sophie had been trying her best to embrace it.

“I was fifteen when I learned that he forgot their anniversary most years, too,” she continued. “I got right up in his face about it, yelling and saying all sorts of shit. Scott actually picked me up and carried me outside to calm down. I started buying her flowers every year — Mothers’ Day, Valentines, her birthday, anything that Alec could forget about.”

“That’s a much simpler solution that I would’ve expected from you,” Reyes commented, voice still rough with exhaustion but softened by admiration. “Then again — you are still single-handedly trying to patch up the galaxy’s problems.”

“Tell me about your mother,” Sophie suggested suddenly, pulling her knees to her chest; she was beginning to get restless, the way she always did when the conversation turned too personal and too open, but this time she had no desire to change the subject or end the call. No secrets between us, Reyes had said, hadn’t he, all those weeks ago in the aftermath of the Collective’s takeover of Kadara. While Sophie had thought she wanted to leave the Milky Way behind — let everything from that other life fade away —  with as much as she’d been thinking about her mother and São Paulo lately, she found herself with a fledgling interest in Reyes’ life, too.

He gave his head a little shake and laughed, a low, quiet sound that pulled a smile from Sophie. “You would have liked her, I think. She was always doing something, always working or cleaning up after us kids. There were four of us, and we each had our own way of causing trouble.”

She rested one cheek on her knees, a little surge of warmth spreading through her at the soft, distant gleam in Reyes’ eyes; she hadn’t expected nostalgia from a man like him. “Big family.”

“It’s easy to feel… lost,” he admitted, looking away as his smile began to fade, “with three older siblings. Like everything’s nearly run out by the time it makes it down to you.”

“You miss them?”

“I left them long before I joined the Initiative. But… yes.”

Their call fell into silence, and Sophie felt a pang of loneliness. She missed her mother, and she missed Scott, and in a way she missed Reyes — missed being close to him when all she wanted was to curl up beside him and sleep until her head stopped pounding and her chest stopped aching. “I’m gonna go see if Gil wants to grab something to drink before we have to leave the Nexus,” she decided, already dreading her decision to end the call. “And… Reyes? I know you’ve got Kadara to run these days, but when Scott’s up and walking again, I’d really like if you’d come visit.”

The corners of Reyes’ lips slowly curled up into a small smile, and when he spoke his voice was filled with a sincerity and honesty that Sophie was still getting used to. “Promise.”