#might scar him for life and explode later who knows the nights still young

[kismetmoon]

my tufting needle came in today,,

[Plain text ID: three photos of a small tufted rug of A. Square from The Flatland Film 2007 sitting on a wooden desk. There is a grey wall behind it, a swiss cheese plant in a beige pot to the left and a green and gold bankers lamp to the right.

In the first photo, the rug is laying flat on the desk.

In the second photo, the rug is sitting in the same position but there is a white zero sugar Monster energy drink can sat upright on top of it.

In the third photo, the rug us being held over the same desk by a white hand with a long green thumb nail.

End ID.]

so true to my word i’ve made an A. Square carpet coaster for the bit, inspired by @penguinsinhell’s post about how a flatland plushie would just be the equivalent of a rug. he’s real and he lives on my desk and he’s only 29.99 !

(also pls ignore how absolutely frazzled he is, apparently you’re not really supposed to take punch needle pieces off of their frame and should keep them ON the frame forever :/ but he’s still gonna survive ! unfortunately)

[phoenixyfriend]

Sugar, Spice, and a Heart to Entice

AKA: Jango Fett speedruns a romance with someone who should be his enemy. (It's okay. We know he makes bad choices.)

Note: Ahsoka uses the pseudonym "Ashla" in this fic. Warnings: slavery, references to drug use, crude sex jokes, undressing of an unconscious person (for medical reasons)

----

The girl that they shove into the chains next to him is... worrying.

(Well, probably a girl--he'll adjust later if it turns out he's wrong.)

She's not that much younger than him, he thinks. It's hard to tell, with the way her skin is taut over muscle and bone, too little water and too little sleep, and probably not enough food for whatever labor she's been doing. He's also, admittedly, not great at gauging ages in the first place, and certainly not for Togruta. Still, he thinks it's safe to say that they're close in age, and that she's probably younger than him.

She's lucky, by some measure. The spice ship is terrible, but it's probably better than the fate tog girls are usually subject to in this industry. They're hazardous conditions, and violent ones, but Jango's yet to see a slave here stripped of their clothing for anything other than a whipping.

He thinks it's probably a matter of money. That kind of violation lowers the profit margins, he imagines. Spice is more lucrative than anything, and pain is a better motivator than... well.

So she's lucky, by that measure, and that measure alone.

They clap her in bindings before he even sees her, even though she's unconscious, and bring her sometime in the night cycle. Jango doesn't have a lot of pity left in him, but some goes out to her. He won't say she's too young for this, because nobody is ever old enough for slavery, nor do slavers have any compunctions about selling babes in arms, but Jango would wager she's already led a hard life.

She's fairly covered, but what little is visible shows enough old battle wounds that he can't imagine she's stayed off of battlefields. He knows how to read a Togruta's markings for stress history, too, and hers tell a story. Her facial marks are thin and delicate, and he'd say they're certainly more complex than the average; the striation on her lekku and montrals is thin and jagged, like marble. It's pretty enough, but it's also a sign of the fact that her life has likely been anything but easy. Some of it might be genetics, and he hopes it is, but with the scars he can see... he doubts it's much.

"Keep that one alive," the overseer orders, eyes on Jango and hand gesturing at the tog girl.

He leaves.

Jango isn't sure what they're hoping to get out of putting her with him. The room is built for four, yes, but they usually don't try to have anyone share with Jango. Maybe they ran out of room, or just assumed Jango was the most likely to know field medicine, or just figured there wouldn't be any trouble until she woke.

As he gets closer, his confusion grows. The tog's got burns all over, ugly ones that aren't going to heal cleanly without bacta. They're going to get infected, as likely as not. He hasn't got much besides water in here, but the overseer's left behind a box of what looks like bandages. If he's lucky, there's burn cream in there.

(He's not lucky.)

He works slowly, careful of every movement. He builds up a story in his head as he does, based on the wounds he finds and what he starts to notice of the clothing. He can't see all the details, not in what little light he has, but there's plenty to notice.

He hadn't realized, with how dim it is, but most of what she's got on as an outer layer is hardened leather, real leather, not synth. There are attachment points for armor at the shoulders and hips, and he thinks he sees signs of wear for vambraces and greaves. She's no Mando'verde, not with how he can see that the fabric at her torso and upper legs is intended to stay light and flexible and uncovered, but the crafting of the leather layers is familiar. He thinks she might have contacts among Mando armorers.

She might even wear beskar, if she's impressed the right person.

The wounds are recent, and unfamiliar, and he thinks she was probably fought into chains, rather than bought in them. She's a captive, not a purchase, or maybe... maybe they just found an unconscious woman, and decided that she was worth keeping.

He thinks she lost a fight, or won but with great injuries, and just... stumbled off and collapsed. He gets the feeling no one on board the ship could have fought this woman, except for himself. It's not based on much, not until he can see her move, but he's got good instincts for that sort of thing.

Jango keeps his assessment of her torso quick and clinical, not even bothering to mentally apologize for stripping her bare. This is medical, and he's not a doctor, not even a field medic, but he's professional nonetheless. Even though there's nothing in the box but bandages, not even the burn cream he'd hoped for, he'd still rather know if there's a broken rib to worry about. He doesn't want to wait for her to wake up and then find out she's got a punctured lung, even if he can't do anything about it. He finds bruising, but... he thinks that if anything is broken, it's hairline at most.

Lucky, he thinks again, in the unluckiest situations.

She doesn't wake that cycle. It's all he can do to get some water in her, dripped into her mouth in a trickle, but it's something.

----

When the Togruta girl wakes up, it's sudden. Jango is wiping down her lekku with a wet cloth in hopes of staving off a fever, kneeling next to the bunk. She opens her eyes, stiffens with a sharp breath, and then twists off the bed. Before he's fully processed this, her legs are up and around his neck, and then he's being wrenched to the side and onto the filthy ground, cheek grinding down into the grit. He feels a bony knee press into his spine, and the growl of a predator.

"Where am I?" the tog girl demands.

"Spice ship," he says, and oh but this place has ruined him for fights; he's having trouble breathing from whatever she's done to him, and she doesn't even have the use of her hands. "Deep space. You're in the slave cells. Don't mess with the collar, it'll explode if you try to remove it."

"Spice refinery?" she repeats, sounding completely baffled. He gives her a second to process, but she blindsides him. "Someone got me in their hands and they went for spice slavery?"

"As opposed to..." he really hopes she gets off soon.

She doesn't answer him immediately, and he can't get a look at her face. He gets his arms out to the sides, plants them to the floor, and shoves back. She doesn't fall off, but she does slide to the side to sit on the floor.

The expression she's got is best described as 'shell-shocked,' he thinks.

"You don't know me," she says, faint and confused. He shakes his head; he's pretty sure he'd have recognized her if he'd known her at all, given the time he's spent cleaning her wounds and trying to keep her alive. She laughs, breathless and a tad hysterical. "You don't--fuck. You don't know me. That's... great. Okay. Okay, I can work with that. Don't know how they missed it, but okay."

"Bounty on your head?" he guesses.

She smiles, thin and unpleasant. "Something like that."

"Thought as much. You're built like a fighter." He intends it as a compliment, but he doesn't think she takes it as one.

"I've never had a choice otherwise," she says, and when she next looks around, it's to find a place to sit. She pushes herself up to the thin mattress of the cot behind her, and Jango mirrors her on the cot across the room. It's not his bed, technically, but it's not like there's anyone to complain. She frowns at him; it's not a rude look, he thinks, but an attempt to put something unfamiliar in place. "What legion were you with?"

He blinks at her. He's been part of an army, but never one that big. "Legion?"

"Were you with special forces?" she tries again. "Or--wait, did you even get off Kamino before--"

"I'm not whoever you think I am," he tells her. "None of that means anything to me. I know what a legion is, but I've never had reason to be part of one."

"But you're..." she trails off, brow furrowed. "I guess just a similar face, then."

"To who?"

"The clones?" she hazards, as if that clears anything at all up. "I have no idea where we are; maybe the war holos never made it out far enough for you to know what they looked like..."

"Which war?" he asks, because he feels like he'd probably have heard of a war that used clones, especially one that had enough holos spread around for this woman to expect him to know what the clones in question look like.

"The... the clone war," she says hesitantly. "With the Separatists?"

None of that means anything to him.

It must show in his face, because her brow furrows, and her eyes go wide in a way he doesn't like. He can't tell if her skin's losing color or anything, but he's pretty sure the curl at the tip of one lek is a sign of anxiety. He's not sure how to help, but part of him already decided he liked this woman, just on the suspicion that she was friendly to Mandalorians.

(It's been a solid year and a half since Jango has had anything approaching a friend. He may be, subconsciously, a little desperate.)

"What's your name?" she asks, voice pitching in discomfort, and tight as a garotte.

"Jango Fett."

She closes her eyes, clenches her jaw, and... he can't see, can't know if she's trembling, but he thinks she is. She lets her head fall back against the wall, and breathes in sharply. It's a shaky breath, and he doesn't like that much, either.

"Fuck," she repeats. "No wonder--fuck."

He gives her a few seconds, but she doesn't elaborate. He asks another question instead. "Do I get to know your name?"

Her eyes crack open, and then she sits up straight and looks him over. Her lips purse, and she comes to some decision, though he's at a loss for what. "Call me Ashla. She/her, if you'd rather stick to Basic."

Fake name. Alright. She mentioned a bounty, so it's probably about that.

"Well met, Ashla."

She laughs, empty and painful. She swears in a mix of Huttese and Mando'a, and a few languages he doesn't even recognize. The Core accent on her Mando'a is strong, but he thinks whoever taught her might have been from Concord Dawn.

"How old are you, if you don't--"

"I'm twenty-one," she says. He was right; she's only two years younger than him. "At least... fuck, okay. What's the date?"

He tells her, and she screws up her brow and mouths something to herself. He's not entirely sure what.

"How long ago was..." she trails off.

"Was what?"

She presses a hand over her eyes. "I don't know what year it is."

Ah. Well, he can help with that much. He tells her that, too.

Ashla drops her hand. She visibly mulls it over, eyes on the underside of the bunk above her. He has no idea what she's thinking.

"Why aren't there other people in this room?"

"Weak ones couldn't sleep because I'm 'too intimidating,' and the rest kept trying to throw their weight around." He shrugs at the look she points his way. "I'm not dumb enough to start a fight with a bomb around my neck, but I'm not letting someone knock me around so they can earn a reputation."

She purses her lips, but lets it lie. "You let me take you down, then?"

"You had the advantage of surprise," he says, and doesn't bother to list every other advantage. She's better fed than he is, has spent less time in spice-suffused air, was unconscious and resting while he was awake to keep an eye on her fever. He's got the feeling she already knows.

When she speaks again, it's low and in fluent Mando'a, heavily accented though it may be.

"You'd get out of here eventually," she tells him, eyes half shut. "But you'll get out faster with my help, Mand'alor."

His stomach twists.

----

"They are either very stupid, or very cheap," Ashla mutters a day later, when he's supposedly helping her change some bandages. It gives him the excuse of leaning in close.

"Probably the former," he says.

She grins, and then stiffens and hisses out a low breath as he pours some of the stolen whiskey over one of the burns. It's not a real disinfectant, but it's the best they've got at the moment. Jango still isn't sure how she managed to get it from the overseers without them noticing, but he's quickly gotten the gist that she's a fair shot sneakier than he is.

"What did they do?" he asks, and she huffs out a laugh.

"I need you to promise you won't try to kill me," she says, and he stills.

She seems to be waiting on his response. Great. "That's not an auspicious start, Ashla."

"Eh, I've survived more than my fair share of people trying to kill me. No offense, bro, but I could take you," she says.

She's probably right in their current circumstances. "Let's hear it."

"I left the Jedi Order when I was seventeen."

The whiskey bottle slips from his fingers.

An invisible hand catches it, and it settles quietly on the floor of their cell. No guards will come running. It's a damning sight, for him.

A Jedi.

A Jedi who--who left.

Jedi committed Galidraan, but she left three years before that, but she was--was--

She has her back to him, trusting.

Or just arrogant.

She phrased it that way on purpose, phrased it so he'd know she left before he--before--

"I was framed by my friend for a terrorist attack," she says, and he can't find his voice to tell her to stop talking. "And sentenced to death by a non-Jedi military tribunal for it. By the time they figured out I wasn't guilty, I'd already been kicked out."

He forces his hands to his knees, grips at the bones that are too close to the skin, and orders himself to breathe.

Ashla turns on the spot, blinks at him. "I'm telling you this because it's how we're going to get out."

"Your people killed mine."

"I wasn't a Jedi when Galidraan happened," she says. There's more she wants to say, he's sure, but she keeps the words locked behind her teeth. That might be a good thing.

"And I'm just supposed to trust you?"

"Only for long enough to get out of here," she tells him. She shrugs, easy as anything. She's done this before, maybe. "Trust me, I have plenty of reasons to hate you, too, but I'm a little more concerned about getting this ship taken into custody, and having all the slaves freed."

"And you can just... make that happen."

"I told you, they're either stupid or skint," she says, with that same disarming grin. "I had lightsabers on me, and they kept them on the ship. They haven't drugged me since I woke up. They put me in normal cuffs, Jango."

He hates the way his name sounds on her tongue.

He hates the fact that he sees her plan already.

"You don't even need me," he points out, resisting the urge to try to kill her here and now. He doesn't have his armor. He doesn't have weapons. He's good, but she's got the Force and thighs that can crush a bantha skull.

"I'm not exactly... legit," she admits with a grimace. "Once you're back in Mandalorian space, you at least have an identity. People that will give you a place to stay. A chain code."

"And you don't."

She smiles, brittle. "Give me a week to scope out what I need and get us out of here, and maybe I'll explain."

A week. Fine.

And once they're out of here, and he has a blaster and a meal and a good night's sleep, he'll handle her.

----

He hates the fact that he likes her, still. People had already noticed, even just one day in. The first time someone notices he's giving Ashla the cold shoulder in the workroom, they joke at him about her not putting out. He's known her one day, and they think--

He stops the thought in its tracks.

Jango doesn't start fights here, but he is tempted.

"Oh, he wouldn't dare," Ashla simpers, sweet as spun sugar. "I bite."

She smiles, every pearly white tooth on display. The fangs near glint in the light. She eyes the speaker, squeezes the tool in her hand. Her tendons strain, but the metal bends with a creak.

The overseer shouts for them to get back to work.

Jango steps closer to her, lets his elbows brush against hers, and glares off anyone that tries to get too close.

"I don't need protection," she mutters to him from the corner of her mouth.

"I keep my word," he replies, hating himself for it.

He said he'd have her back. He may hate what she is, but... she left the Order. She's not a Jedi anymore. If he thinks it enough, he can believe it.

----

There's always a camaraderie in shared suffering. Jango is aware of this, and he feels his fondness for Ashla grow against his better judgment. They're both slaves on a spice ship, and he can't change that. It makes him tolerate her more than he sensibly should.

She acts like a Mando soldier, sometimes. She's not at all like Haat Mando'ade, but she knows some of the jokes that Mandalorians grow up with. She walks like a woman used to beskar'gam. She knows a drinking song or two.

(They don't waste the whiskey. It's for injuries, not intoxication.)

"I had brothers, once," she tells him, late at night. "A lot of them. They had a Mandalorian parent, sort of, but he'd never seen fit to really... let them have the culture. I lost them all, mostly to slave chips, and a few to just normal deaths, but... I learned what I could about Mandalore, after, for their sake. In their memory."

It's not a terrible reason, he thinks.

"Irony for you to end up in chains, then," he mumbles, and she barks out a sharp laugh.

"Tradition, more like," she says, and explains before he can ask for her to keep talking. "My... teacher was born a slave, and I... have a suspicion he ended up back in chains after we lost contact. His teacher was enslaved at least twice that I know of."

"Shitty tradition," he says, because there's nothing else he can think of.

"Could be worse," she tells him. This time, she doesn't elaborate.

----

He likes her more than he should.

----

He likes her so, so, so much more than he should.

----

She steals datachips when nobody's looking, using the Force instead of her fingers. She wraps dismissal around her like a cloak to access computer terminals without anyone but Jango noticing. She slips spice into the drinks held by guards and overseers.

She moves through the ship like smoke, in the dim lights of the false night.

Someone notices. Someone always notices, in Jango's experience, but they have no idea who's doing it. They lock down the cells for the sleep cycle, turn down the temperature, leave all the slaves shivering in their beds.

He pulls Ashla into his cot without hesitation, fits their bodies together to conserve heat, and ignores the rest. They're both soldiers; there's no shame in survival for those like them. The lekku at her back drapes over his neck like a scarf, and he almost wants to laugh.

He's pathetic. His men would be so damn disappointed in him, sharing bunk with a Jedi.

"You're thinking too loud," she mumbles, shifting somehow closer. The chill clings, creeping in through the thin clothes and thinner blanket, but he feels like it's bearable with Ashla here.

----

When they enact the plan, it's so much quieter than Jango would have run it. Ashla holds his hands in the early morning, before anyone is awake, and smiles. When she closes her eyes, sinking into a light meditation, the collar around her neck just... comes apart. Nuts and bolts and curves of metal float about her like a wretched parody of the mobile hanging above an infant's crib, and then land quietly on the nearest cot. When she opens her eyes, hazy and distant, she looks at his throat, and frees him with a thought.

It's a heady thing, freedom.

"Come along, Fett," she goads, almost crooning the words, backing out of the cell with his hands in hers. Nobody is awake yet, or at least they shouldn't be. Her words curl in the air like something cloyingly too-sweet, and he's sure it's her way of trying to piss him off. It's only working a little. "We've work to do."

Said work involves slipping past guards with a Jedi's timing, commanding them to sleep with a whisper and a poke to the forehead, and drugging the ones that she claims are resistant to Jedi tricks. The work is, as such, mostly hers to do. They hide the bodies, but the alarm goes off by the time they get to the weapons locker.

That's fine, because the weapons locker is where they were headed.

"Oh, hell yes," she hisses through a grit-tooth grin, and a matched pair of lightsabers float to her. Jango turns off the energy field by the time they reach her, and she hooks them onto her belt. Beskar plating follows, exactly the pieces that Jango had guessed from wear and tear. It's real beskar, too, not even an alloy, and Jango doesn't ask the questions on the tip of his tongue. She straps it on in practiced movements, without hesitation and almost without thought.

"See anything better than what you got off the guards?" she asks him. "Or did they all take the best blasters for themselves?"

"The latter," he says.

(His eyes trace over the armor she wears, and while she does wear it well... he's jealous.)

(He misses his armor.)

(Envy is unbecoming of anyone, but he thinks he can be afforded a little leeway.)

There are people in the hall by the time they exit, a dozen blasters at the ready.

The people in the hall are... not a problem.

Ashla had called it the Sword and Shield maneuver, when walking him through her experiences working in a Mando/Jetii team. He'd laughed, because the saber was the shield. She'd smiled at him, and he'd cursed himself for it.

If he'd had his armor, they'd have been able to move forward as a pair of unstoppable monsters. As it stands, they're... still doing that, really, just a tad slower.

"You're a Jedi!" one of them shouts. "You're supposed to be diplomats! You're not supposed to kill!"

Jango could laugh at that horrible, horrible lie.

"I am no Jedi," Ashla says, and the words cut through the air like something she's said a million times, and will say a million more.

Jango could do a lot with that line, tucked away in his memories for later.

There's a moment, though, where they're stuck at one end of a hallway, and the door to the bridge is just on the other side, and Ashla grins at him, a challenge in every inch of her body, and asks, "You wanna see something cool?"

He can't help it.

"You planning to show off, Jedi?" He can say the word without flinching, and it's... absurd. It's absurd. What in all the hells is she doing to him?

(He's been told that war makes for strange bedfellows, but he's long known that trauma does the same.)

He takes cover when she moves, and oh, does she move.

Ashla's a whirlwind, dangerous as anything and beautiful in her careful, precise violence. She knocks people out, more often than not, but there's more then one dead body left in her wake. It appeals to something in him. She flips and twists and throws people with the Force. She slices and kicks, and smacks people across the face with the blasters she lifts of their comrades. She headbutts at least two people, and then jumps to bounce off the ceiling and back down so she can land feet first on an enemy.

He hopes he'll get his common sense back when he's had time to put himself together, because the sight of those sabers doesn't make him flinch. After all he's been through, after all his nightmares, it really should. The sound alone should have him shivery and shooting.

Maybe there's just too much spice in the air.

A head drops to the floor in a different direction from the body it had previously been attached to. Jango's throat goes dry in response.

When Ashla stands at the end of the hall, a saber in each hand and the floor behind her littered in both bodies breathing and bodies bereft of life, she looks back at him over her shoulder. She deactivates her swords, and smirks. She's smug, and she makes smug look very, very good.

"So," she says. "Verdict?"

Fuck.

----

The bridge is easy enough to handle. They land the ship on a Republic planet, one with relevant authorities and at least some reputation for actually handling things with a degree of kindness and transparency. Ashla does the talking, letting Jango lurk behind her. She lies.

"Half-truths," she later tells him, in a low voice. The smile she wears is amused and self-assured, just a twist at the corner, and the slightest of pouts. He can't see it, when she leans in to murmur in his ear. "I certainly used to be a Jedi. They don't need to know this wasn't an officially-sanctioned infiltration."

Her breath hits lightly against his ear, and he wants--he wants--

"Have a comm code for any old friends?" Ashla asks, stepping away. Her face twists unpleasantly. Frustration, he's sure. "I've got credits, but no contacts."

He eyes the little pack she's got around her waist. "Stole that from the slavers?"

"We'll consider it payment for services rendered," she tells him, with an impish grin Jango wants to kiss off of her face, because apparently he's kriffing suicidal and wants to bed a Jedi. "I'll give you most of it, if you want. Call it the two years of backpay they owed you."

He snorts before he can stop himself. "Just one year, sorry."

"Oh, it's hazard pay," she insists, blinking innocently. "Dangerous conditions having been what they were, of course."

She presses a comm--probably also stolen--and a few credits into his hand, then loops her arm through his. She sets off at a lazy walk, ignoring the people who stare at them with distaste and disgust. "We'll find a hotel. We'll shower, with real water, and fancy soaps, and a little sonic just for the clothes. I'll run out and get you a basic outfit, and then we can go shopping, and once that's done, and you've had a chance to comm a companion, we can reunite you with your buddies, and you can go hunting for your armor, and I'll split and--"

"Stay."

She tilts her head at him, though she doesn't stop walking, and he feels his face burn. He hopes it's not visible. She hums lowly. He can't learn anything from it. "You hate Jedi, though, and I might not really be one anymore, but I'm still more Jedi than not."

"You wear beskar and speak Mando'a," he says. "You helped the Mand'alor. You're halfway to being one of mine already."

"One of yours, huh?" she mutters, eyes somewhere distant. He doesn't know what it is that she's seeing, but he's gotten used to it. "Alright, let's have this conversation again after you've had some sleep and clothes and a good meal, yeah?"

He can take that compromise.

----

"What do you mean, you're from the future?!"

[hypnomicimagines]

Fateful Meeting [Ninja!Harai Kuko/Reader]

The young ninja’s eyes were sharp, intense, so much so it felt like you were looking into the sun.

You looked down and away from his glare as you continued to tend to his wounds, ignoring the way he shifted uncomfortably, like he didn’t want you touching him at all. But he was the one who had stumbled upon your home a complete bloody mess, barely conscious as he looked up at you with pleading eyes, a moment of weakness when he thought he was on death’s door. Now that you had given him water and stopped his wound from bleeding his normal temperament had come back, and something told you he wasn’t the most pleasant dinner guest to have.

You had just finished bandaging him up when he abruptly stood, grabbing your wrist to stop you from reaching out to touch him again. You shared a look, wondering if he was the type of ninja to have taken a vow of silence before he opened his mouth for the first time.

“What do you want?” His tone is harsh but you think it’s likely just the way he sounds, if his looks are anything to go by. “You wasted your healing supplies on me, so what is it you want in return?”

“I don’t expect you to repay my kindness. Kindness isn’t kindness if it’s done expecting gratitude. Although I do suggest you spend some more time here recovering before you go anywhere…” Kuko’s eyes widened ever so slightly at your words but he doesn’t allow you to fully see his surprise, his neutral expression returning just as quickly as it had left. He adjusted the mask on his face as he stepped towards the door, ignoring your pleas for him to sit and rest a while longer.

“I always repay my debts.”

“Wait! Can’t you tell me your name at least? Or is that part of the whole secretive ninja clan thing you clearly have going on?” He hesitated for a second at your request, so simple to you yet to him… it was a show of trust. To willingly give your name to a stranger could mean terrible things for someone whose job was to blend in with the night; it would be better if you could forget he was ever even there which is why he becomes even more surprised when he spoke.

“Harai Kuko. Don’t forget it!” There’s a little more emotion in his introduction, a little less cold and far more personality shining through (which reaffirmed your assumption he was not the type of guest to bring home to your parents). But you found yourself charmed by him all the same, gentle smile on your face as you waved goodbye, his name just a whisper on the wind with how quickly he was gone.

You’re in awe at how such a bright shock of red hair managed to fade perfectly into the darkness but he’s gone from your view within seconds, leaving you reeling at the experience, wondering if it had only been a dream. The bloodied bed where he laid as you tended to him told otherwise but you tried not to think too deeply on it, grabbing the sheets to toss into your laundry pile to clean later. You cleaned up the scraps of your bandages and tidied your home like no one had been there, knowing that you had to sleep soon as you couldn’t burn the candle at both ends. You had to be up early for your patients the next morning as well since the work never seemed to end in the midst of the war.

As you’re finishing up there’s several aggressive knocks at your door, your body suddenly tensed as something feels off. Ever since your late-night visitor had left you felt an odd sensation in your chest, this anxiety unwavering in the heavy night air as you wondered how things could possibly get more interesting. When you’re greeted with the sight of two heavy-set men your anxiety finds itself skyrocketing, finding yourself backed into the corner of your own home as they make themselves comfortable.

“Excuse us for intruding. We just happened to see a trail of blood leading here… Are you alright?” His tone indicated he was not at all concerned about your well-being so you didn’t reply, instead trying to fix him with a steady stare that said ‘I’ve done nothing wrong’. “Ah, I see, the quiet type. I don’t mind that however… we’re tracking down a certain menace. A man with bright red hair who we heavily injured earlier today.”

“Why are you asking me?”

“Are you not the resident healer?”

“I am… but that blood trail could have just as easily been from an injured boar who was fighting for territory in the woods. Assuming it was human is a leap.”

“Might I ask why you’re still awake?”

“Some nights my mind keeps me awake with all sorts of thoughts, like whether or not I have to go into town to get more herbs and the like. You’re awfully inquisitive, are you perhaps looking to become a healer rather than being a person who supplies me patients?”

Your temper started to flare up despite you trying to carefully navigate the conversation, wanting these people who clearly came here to threaten you out of your home. You’d dealt with their type before, absolute savages, and you don’t appreciate their intrusion. You’re fonder of the random man who was bleeding out on your doorstep than these people who hurt just because they could, who bullied because they knew people were too afraid to stand up to them. Your irritation doesn’t go unnoticed but is returned with a heavy silence and glares, the two men who had forced their way in their home looming over you menacingly.

Perhaps you should’ve just gone straight to bed.

Kuko hadn’t made it far.

As headstrong as he was even he couldn’t deny the pain his body was in, his wounds aching as they hadn’t closed properly. He was normally far more respectful of the healers back at the temple but he was in a hurry, needing to report back to his father his findings immediately. He didn’t want to bring those hunting him to you either, it would be bad news as they seemed to have no issue slaughtering innocents left and right. He felt like there was a boulder in his gut that was slowing his movements, his body not able to move as nimbly until he’s finally forced to stop. He doesn’t know how far he’s gotten nor how much time has passed but he’s bleeding again.

It’s either turn back towards your hut or continue forward in hopes of finding another healer.

Something else is pulling him back towards you, like you’d attached strings to his body and were pulling at him to come back behind the curtain. Kuko bit his tongue hard to keep himself conscious, leaning against a tree, taking a deep breath, and then starting the journey back to your home. He’d have to prepare a proper apology for impeding on you so late at night but the sudden sense of urgency that rushed through his body stopped his needless worrying, walking forward with a huff.

He didn’t know why but he had to get back to you.

Now.

Your head is pounding as you lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, hands raising to cover your head to prevent further damage to your skull. You’d be in more pain if you were fully conscious but you’re only partially aware of what’s happening to you, your house in shambles around you. The place had been torn apart, the bloody bandages from earlier thrown across the room as they had been found during a ‘mandatory search’. The table you had been sitting at was flipped over and jars of needed herbs were tossed on the floor, even worse, now your own blood was staining the floor.

You’re fighting to stay awake, eyes scanning the floor for anything to defend yourself with but it was a fruitless endeavor. Your hands were meant to heal not harm, you weren’t suited for anything like this, and your assailants were clearly far more skilled than the average soldier. You wished you could say you put up a better fight than the pathetic mess that actually happened but there wasn’t time for self-pity.

“Hey you bastards! Didn’t hurt your pride enough after round one?”

Ninja’s are supposed to be quiet, stealthy, but Kuko had burst onto the scene like some sort of hero in a play. You’re wide-eyed as you spot the shock of red hair but your vision is so blurry and your brain so scrambled you’re worried you’re just hallucinating him. Your eyes met his for a second, your pleading reaching Kuko’s heart immediately; if he hadn’t been so carefully trained his entire life, he thinks his anger might’ve exploded in that moment, causing him to do something he’d regret. To see someone who had treated him with kindness, without asking any extra questions about who he was, someone who was likely innocent and had no means of defending themselves…

It pissed him off.

You hear the sound of skin on skin, some cackling that you’re sure is your ninja savior despite how high-pitched and wicked it sounded, and what you hope isn’t your house getting torn into even more pieces. Your face was buried in your arms as you were growing more exhausted, knowing the moon must be high in the sky at this point. You should’ve been in bed hours ago. Who would help your patients tomorrow when you could hardly help yourself? You weakly managed to bring your head up to survey the room around you but it’s suddenly silent, not a soul in sight until Kuko re-enters your home from the front door.

“Should I ask where you took them or just rely on blind faith?”

“You don’t have to blindly trust me but those assholes got what they deserved,” Kuko scoffed as he walked over to you, lifting you effortlessly so he could bring you over to your little bed (which had stayed clear of any debris). “Shit, I’m tired.”

Your eyes widened as Kuko lowered the mask so he could breathe a little easier, his face so smooth except for a scar on the underside of his chin. You can see a few more scars peeking out from the tears in his clothes but you don’t allow your mind to wander. Kuko is currently questioning why he just revealed his face in front of a civilian without thinking twice about the consequences, knowing this was yet another rule he had broken. There was a strict code all ninja were expected to follow and he’d already broken at least two rules, even more because he actually found himself liking you. He would be lucky if he got out of this unscathed by his father, not that he gave a damn what that shitty old man had to say to him, but he’d rather make his life easier.

“You’re bleeding… your wound from before reopened, didn’t it? I need to help you…”

Kuko shied away from your touch but you can see he’s actively fighting his body’s natural response to protect himself, freezing in place to allow you to place a hand on his shoulder. You kept your movements deliberately slow to prove you meant no harm, not like you could even consider raising a hand to him after he had saved you from who knows what kind of fate. He had half a mind to argue with you about trying to help him when you were injured yourself but he was too tired to even argue, his dad would’ve laughed if he heard that one.

“We should sleep…” After you had replaced his bandages with clean one you sent an exasperated look to your home, disliking the fact it was so messy despite none of it being your fault.

“We can just clean tomorrow.” Kuko flopped himself unceremoniously onto the floor beside your bed, hands behind his head like a pillow with his legs crossed; he winced a bit at the impact but otherwise gave no indication he was uncomfortable. You’re about to question his decision to sleep directly beside you but there really didn’t seem to be enough room in your home with a table flipped over in the middle of it, so it was easier to just settle yourself in beside him and hope he wasn’t secretly some pervert.  

Wait, did he say we?

“So, you’re going to stay this time?” You turned on your side to look at him, “I could use some extra help in the woods tomorrow… It shouldn’t be too rough a walk with your injuries… but I guess it’s selfish of me to ask a stranger to just help me out with my own chores…”

“Hmph. I guess I can help.” Kuko’s eyes are closed yet he’s unable to sleep, peaking one open when he hears you shuffling around next to him in an attempt to get comfortable. Even with a bruise forming on your temple you’re as stunning as ever, the young ninja biting his lip as he wondered how much of this was a sense of duty and how much was just him indulging his personal desires.

“Thank you…” You finally whispered out as sleep overcame you.

Kuko is left speechless, cheeks warm as he tries to settle his rapidly beating heart.

[lovely-jily]

“we’re rubbish at lying”

hey! i had this cute idea and wanted to see where it would take me. it’s just a little taste of some wolfstar, and who doesn't love that? let me know how you guys like it:))))

"Sirius! You git, you can't hog all the firewhisky," Marlene yanked the bottle out of the protesting boy's hand. She took a swig of it, giggling slightly, which caused the liquid to run down her chin. 

"I wouldn't have to worry about hogging it if you didn't waste so much," Sirius grabbed the bottle back, wiping Marlene's chin of the spilled drink, "You do know that some of us intend to get drunk tonight, right?"

The giggling persisted. She was making obvious advances on the boy, and he was obviously enjoying it. She was grabbing his arm, playing with his hair. Sirius always was a flirt, and loved when it was reciprocated. Anything to boost his ego. 

They were in James’s living room. He had invited them all over a few days before the term started. It was their last year. The last year before they were thrust into the real world, before they were going to fight in a war that was no theirs.

 Marlene and Sirius were sitting on the floor next to the fire, Peter on the chair behind them. Across from them sat James, Remus, Mary, and Dorcus on the couch, clutching their mugs.

James didn't want to drink, as he wasn't seventeen and he was smart enough not to disrespect his mother's rules inside her own house. Remus hated getting drunk, and Lily always assumed it was a control thing. She knew the boy was secretive and she knew that firewhisky was a good tool at loosening the filter that restricted said secrets (other than veritaserum, of course). Mary and Dorcus were probably going to get into the drink later, but the night was still young and they wanted to remember most of it. 

Lily was leaning on the doorway connecting the kitchen and the living room. She was snacking on some of the pudding that Mrs. Potter had made and was watching Marlene's horrid attempts to flirt with Sirius. 

"You know what I've heard about you, Sirius?" Marlene was now caressing his thigh. Sirius was simply laughing at her, looking over at James who had a smirk on his face as well. 

"What have you heard, Marlene?" Sirius laughs at her as she leans in close. Lily could only imagine the smell of the alcohol on their breaths. 

"That you," She ran a finger up his arm before taking another swig, "are like a dog in bed."

She grabbed a fistful of his shirt while the room roared, the four boys a little too loudly. Lily got the sense that she was missing out on some inside joke. 

"Have you also heard how he humps his pillow in the dead of night?" James laughed, looking at Sirius's now red face. 

Marlene looked at James as if she were pondering something. She then stood up, bottle in hand, and walked over to him. 

"I've heard even better things about you, Jamsie boy," She traced her hand over his jawline before straddling him. At this sight, Lily felt her stomach drop and a burning feeling in her chest. Ignoring it, and simply wanting it to go away, she glanced down at her plate, playing with the pudding. 

"Is that good?"

She looked up at Remus. He was in a plain t-shirt and jeans, and Lily found that his arms were rather scrawny without a jumper or his robes. She had never seen him in a t-shirt. 

"It was," she smiled at him. Out of all the boys, she was the closest to him by far. 

"Mrs. Potter is a brilliant cook," he said, leaning against the doorframe. 

"I have a proposition!" Marlene exclaimed, pulling James and Sirius up and wrapping her arms around the pair of them, "Let's have a threesome!"

Lily gripped her fork tighter, looking back down at her plate. Her appetite was lost. She then watched Remus's face and it matched how she felt, although he was trying to mask it. But she could read through the stone expression.

"You don't like that either, do you," she said to him quietly. 

He looked at her, and she could see panic flash in his eyes for a moment and shock on his face, "What do you mean?"

"You've been looking at Marlene all night," She said. It was true, even at dinner Marlene was making advances on Sirius, "Sorry to assume."

"Oh," Relief flashed over his eyes and he chuckled, "I just worry about the decisions of my mates is all."

Lily looked down at her plate, "Yeah, same. I usually have to mother Marlene when she gets into alcohol and I was just looking foward to a good night. It's a little embarrassing in all honesty."

"We're rubbish at lying," Remus responded, smirking and putting his hands in his pockets.

Lily laughed slightly, "We really are. But at least we have each other."

The night persisted and after Marlene stopped trying to hookup and started crying, they all went to bed. While Lily was brushing her red hair, there was a timid knock at the door. 

"Come in," She answered.

Remus entered, wearing his night robes. He looked nervous, hands playing with his pajama shirt and eyes wild, "Do you have a second?"

"Of course," Lily smiled, invitingly, in an attempt to calm him down and welcome him. He looked almost like a deer in the headlights.

He shut the door behind him and sat on the dresser, in front of her. 

"I've got to tell you something, Lily," the boy took a shaky breath. It seemed like he was near exploding, "And I don't want you to think of me any differently because I'm still the same person that you're close with."

"Okay," Lily smiled. She knew what he was going to say. Lily knew those scars don't come from "accidents". When she first met the boy, she assumed he was abused and her heart ached for him.

However, it became clear by their fifth year that an abusive home life wasn't at fault for the deformities. Lily figured out the patterns while they worked together as prefects, although she never confronted him on the subject. She didn't care, and in all honestly, she empathized with the feeling of not fully belonging in the wizarding world. 

Remus looked like he was going to throw up. His face was pale, his jaw clenched shut.

"Rem," She took his hand, causing him to relax, "You can tell me absolutely anything and I wouldn't look at you any differently-"

"I'm gay." 

That was absolutely not the secret that Lily had expected. She felt her eyes wide and her mouth go dry. She felt horrible for this reaction, but it really took her by surprise and she needed a second to compose her thoughts.

Remus seemed to take her silence as a bad sign because the boy began to go on a nervous rampage that was almost impossible to understand, "Well, I actually might be bisexual with just a heavy preference towards men, because I had a huge crush on Janet Prince in third year, but I mean she also was a Tom Boy, so who knows, but I still liked her and-"

Lily kicked herself for her reaction. She didn't care about his sexuality, she felt the same way about it as she did him being a werewolf, she was just so shocked. 

She rubbed her hands on his arms, "Hey, Remus, it's alright."

He relaxed a bit under her touch, "Are you sure?"

"Of course I am," She said, bringing back her welcoming smile, "I just didn't expect it, is all. I'm proud of you for telling me though, that's not easy."

"While we’re on the topic," He looked in her face and smirked, "I'm a werewolf."

She laughed and the sharp change in mood, "I know."

It was his turn to be shocked, "How?"

"Rem, no one gets sick every full moon. I only noticed because that's when you couldn't finish the Prefect work and so I had a lot of late nights staring at the full moon."

"Sorry about that," He smirked slightly, blushing. 

"Don't be. I was happy to do it," Lily picked her brush back up, "So I'm assuming that Marlene wasn't the one you were staring at then?"

His blush reddened, "No."

Lily laughed slightly, "I do think that Sirius flirts with you more than the rest of us."

He did a nervous smile, "Lily, while I appreciate that, I know you're just saying that."

"Remus, I wouldn't say it if I didn't think it was true. I know the damage that lies can do."

[up-to-some-good]

Part 6: ...and 1 time I did the opposite

I will warn you, this one is bad. If you want to save yourself some pain, don’t read below the cut.

Previous parts: 1 2 3 4 5

The Potters had been cooped up for over a year when they were finally given a break. It was Halloween, the anniversary of their first date, and Sirius and Remus offered to babysit Harry for one night so they could have some alone time. Dumbledore approved the idea and they couldn’t be more pleased. They loved their baby, but they needed a break.

“Don’t let him eat too many sweets,” Lily said, kissing Remus’s cheek.

“Lily,” he said calmly. “You’ve gone over the rules and routine about a hundred times and it’s pinned to the refrigerator. Go, have fun, stop worrying.”

She looked over at Harry, giggling from Sirius’s arms and sighed.

“I hate it when you’re right,” she said, joining James at the car. “I’ll see you three later.”

Remus waved and closed the door before turning back to his boyfriend, who was tickling his godson’s stomach and muttering nonsense at the giggling toddler. He would make a good dad, one day. Remus moved over to the pair and kissed Sirius’s forehead. Sirius handed the toddler over and turned to the kitchen.

“I’ll make us some dinner, you handle the baby,” he called as he walked away.

A few hours later, Remus finished drying the dishes and walked back to the living room where Sirius was with Harry. He was telling his godson about their first Halloween at Hogwarts, casting small pumpkins and bats out of sparks to illustrate the finer points of the story. Harry giggled and tugged at his hair, before swiping at the sparks and causing them to dissolve.

“Stop lurking, Moony,” Sirius said. “Come sit with us.”

He smirked before sitting with the two, joining in on the story telling until a clock somewhere in the house chimed eight times and both men gasped.

“It’s past your bedtime, Haz,” Sirius said, tickling his godson again. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“No!” Harry yelled, barely getting the word out through his giggles.

“Yes,” Sirius said. “Uncle Moony’s gonna take you and get you all snuggled up, okay?”

“Story?” Harry asked, now looking over at Remus earnestly.

“Of course,” Remus answered, dropping his wand on the coffee table.

He took the boy into his arms and started up the stairs. Halfway up, he heard Sirius’s footsteps clunking quickly into the entryway and his blood ran cold.

“Remus! Take Harry and run!” he yelled. “He’s here!”

He heard the front door opening as he entered Harry’s room and barricaded the door. His wand was downstairs on the coffee table. Dumbledore had the invisibility cloak and Sirius had the mirror. He was trapped.

He heard a muffled voice and a flash of green light refracted under the door. There was a loud thud.

“Sirius,” he whispered, falling to his knees. “No.”

He heard footsteps on the stairs, to quiet to come from Sirius’s heavy boots and moved to brace himself against the crib.

“Mooey?” Harry asked, too quietly.

“I’m here, Harry,” he said, barely holding back his tears. “It will be okay.”

The door was blasted off its hinges and Voldemort stepped into the room. Harry started crying. Remus didn’t turn to comfort him – he had to protect him first.

“Please, don’t,” Remus choked out.

Voldemort sighed.

“Black is dead,” he said mildly. “I could use a spare werewolf, Lupin. Step aside and you will be welcomed into my army.”

“I’d rather die,” he spat.

“As you wish.”

A flash of green light illuminated the room. Remus Lupin fell to the ground. Harry continued to cry as Voldemort turned his wand on the boy.

“Avada kedavra!”

The curse rebounded and the room exploded, leaving a crying toddler in the wreckage of his home, alone.

***

Lily was laughing as James drove home. It was the first time she had felt so calm in months. Her laughter died abruptly as they pulled up to their street and she saw flames. She grabbed James’s thigh and he sped up.

Their house was in flames, a hole in the left side where Harry’s room looked into the street. James was out of the car in a second, running to open the front door and falling to his knees as soon as he opened it. Lily was right behind him.

“Pads,” he choked out, sobbing.

Sirius was in the entrance hall, dead. His eyes were wide open, and his wand was nowhere around. Lily thought back to him at Hogwarts, laughing loudly with his arms around James’s shoulders, at their wedding, dancing with Remus, on the battlefield, eyes fierce and wand drawn. It was strange to see him so still.

A baby’s cry drew her attention. She squeezed James’s shoulder before turning to run up the stairs, shaking as she stepped over Sirius’s body.

She found Harry in his cot, the sole survivor in the house. Remus’s body was in front of his crib from where he had clearly tried to protect her son. She picked up the toddler and rocked him gently, willing herself not to collapse next to Remus and sob until she couldn’t breathe.

Remus, who had helped her with Care of Magical Creatures when she was struggling, missing a Hogsmeade weekend with the marauders, who had walked her down the aisle at her wedding, the first person she told she was pregnant, was dead.

She walked back downstairs to find James standing at the door, clutching the frame for support. He turned when he saw her and rushed to take Harry from her, wiping the blood off of his son’s forehead to reveal a curse scar.

“If I ever see Pettigrew again,” he muttered. “I’ll kill him.”

The funeral was a painful affair. Neither Sirius nor Remus had any family beside the Potters. The whole Order attended and praised them as heroes, but it didn’t dull the ache in James’s chest. Sirius, his brother, was killed. Remus, the love of Sirius’s life, had had to listen to his body crumple to the floor before he succumbed to the same fate. It was all Peter’s fault. They had trusted Peter with their lives, with Harry’s life, and he had betrayed them, for what? Power? He couldn’t make sense of it.

He tried to comfort himself that Lily was alive, that Harry was safe, but he couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if they had been home. He had lost almost everything and gotten so close to losing it all. It was unbearable.

Lily was quiet as they walked home. The house they were renting was empty. They had left Harry with Frank’s mother for the funeral and would pick him up later. For now, they needed a moment alone.

He knew something was wrong when he opened the door, year of war had given him instincts for that sort of thing. He didn’t have time to react before he and Lily were roughly tied up and brought to their knees, their wands taken.

Before them stood Bellatrix Lestrange, flanked by her husband and his brother. Behind them, a young boy stood quietly, thrumming with excitement. Bellatrix pointed her wand at James, one of the brothers pointed his at Lily. White hot pain rolled through James’s body, and he heard Lily cried out next to him. It stopped suddenly.

“The pain stops when you tell us where the Dark Lord is,” Bellatrix said.

Four wands now pointed at the Potters. No one would look for them for hours. They had no way out.

“We don’t know,” Lily panted out.

The pain started again.

James thought of Lily, laughing at Harry smashing the vase Petunia had given to them. He thought of Harry, mesmerised by his father’s animagus form. He thought about Sirius and Remus and his parents and everyone he had ever loved before he blacked out.

***  

Petunia Dursley did not like the wizarding hospital – St Muggo’s or whatever it was called. It smelled like a normal hospital, but off – something unidentifiable in the air. Her nephew clutched on to her shirt, especially quiet for a three-year-old. She didn’t like bringing him here, but the letter from Dumbledore had emphasised that she must, and she was rather afraid of the wizard. She couldn’t understand why the Potters were here in the first place, and why they didn’t ever seem to get better; no one had ever explained it to her, and she didn’t bother to ask. She had enough on her plate between Dudley and her nephew.

Lily Potter didn’t recognise them when they walked into the room. Her husband – Jack? – never even acknowledged them, staring out of the window and humming some inane tune. Both of them looked terrible, their skin sunken and grey, their hair dull with premature grey hairs. Both had lost the light in their eyes that Petunia had seen years ago.

Harry babbled at his mother while Petunia read a magazine. Her sister didn’t say a word and didn’t seem to hear her son either. Today, Lily’s husband seemed to be paying attention, his eyes flickering between Harry and Lily with what might be mistaken for interest if he weren’t completely insane

After half and hour she stood up to leave. She stalked into the corridor with Harry holding her hand. He was big enough to walk now, so she ensured he did whenever possible. A sound from behind her made her turn around.

Lily stood in the hallway and reached out to her son. Harry walked wearily over to her. She took his hand and placed and candy wrapper in his palm, squeezing his hand around it, before kissing his head and wondering back into her room, humming.

It was something, Petunia thought with a strange feeling of relief, something that looked like recovery.

[caitsyoi]

I made a post about the Seraphites, so now I want to make one about the WLF. This post is mostly about the WLF's home base, aka the stadium and the area immediately around it. I've included some of my favorite pictures, and my thoughts and observations about where they live and their culture.

Under the cut again to keep things nice and clean.

I gotta say, this blew my mind when I first saw this as Abby. The WLF really have their shit together. Multiple power sources, a bunch of the resources FEDRA left behind, and multiple food sources. The field has cattle, sheep, and chickens plus some farming. On the steps they have even more areas for farming. They have a way to collect water, and even people to design and string up their logo everywhere.

It makes sense, supposedly thousands of people live here (you can't see it unless except via glitch, but there is also baseball stadium immediately next to this that they might also occupy).

We only see where Abby and other soldiers (perhaps squad leaders?) live. They have a pretty cushy life, two per luxury box (the rooms NFL teams overcharge for that run along the upper level of stadiums). Mel also mentions a special area for young families, I wouldn't be surprised if these areas were further divided. Perhaps there is also housing for larger families and single people who aren't soldiers or squad leaders. I very much wonder if those who join the military get better housing than those that work as farmers (or dishwashers, teachers, laundry washers, cooks, etc.). As mentioned earlier, Abby and Manny live in a luxury box, and there are 112 of those in the stadium this is based on. That's housing for 224 people, if they all live like the people in Abby's hallway. That would mean there has to be more housing in other parts of the stadium.

This stadium was once used by FEDRA, and you can see the concrete barriers they left behind along the edge of the field. They have to have more cattle than this, to feed all the people that supposedly live under the WLF. There is farmland around the stadium (more on that later), so maybe they mostly let them graze out there, then move some in when they plan on slaughtering them soon.

I love that they have wind turbines AND solar panels. You can see the influence that the Fireflies had on Issac and the WLF, they really focus on stability and restoring what was lost (at least when it comes to comfort). So they have electricity, sustainable food sources (and multiple kinds too), and a way to collect water (you can't see it in this shot, but they use a system similar to Jackson's, just on a much wider scale).

They teach a curriculum similar to what was taught to kids before the outbreak. We only see two classrooms, but from what I can tell they try to give the gives the type of education they could have received in the old days (as best they can, at least). Both the teachers you see are pretty young, which makes me wonder who taught them.

Most of the kinds you see in class are pretty young, like less than 10. These look a little order (they are outside the stadium in the market area, which I will talk about more a little later). I wonder how long WLF children are required to attend school (I think I saw a sign for 1st through 6th grade, so at least that?). I imagine they get a basic education with some broad looks into various topics, and maybe the ones most apt for study are selected to do specialized careers like teaching or meteorology. Other children are probably pushed into farming or the military portion of the WLF. Regardless of what they study, they probably also get a heavy dose of WLF propaganda. That aligns with how gung-ho many of them are to fight.

I wonder if military service is compulsory, like everyone has has to do at least so much time and then they can do other things if they want. Or maybe they make it so you don't have to fight if you don't want to, but those that do get better perks.

Most of the WLF you see appear to be in their 20's or 30's, or at least the fighters. That would mean they have spent most (if not all) of their lives under military rule, and they would have a special allegiance to the WLF since they manage things so much better than FEDRA did. Plus, you know, all that propaganda. I imagine they are told a lot about how the WLF is restoring society and how the WLF saved them from FEDRA/Scars/infected.

Sorta related, I thought of an WLF AU. Ellie grows up in Seattle under the WLF, perhaps with Riley and Dina and the other characters from canon. So many interesting things can be done with this, but that's for another post maybe.

This is one the cafeteria's the WLF use. I believe this is one of a few, although this is the only one you see. There is also a butcher and small market for clothing and items here too. They prepare food here, but I think the majority of cooking is done in an area set up for it in the stands.

They have posted meal times for groups A-F, and separate meal times for children and the late night patrol. So maybe this is the only cafeteria? Each end is blocked off, so maybe they use some of the corridor that circles the stadium for more living quarters.

This is also community space where they can play games, chat, or read. There also seems to be a mix of soldiers and other workers eating together, as well as young families (there is at least 1 or 2 women with young babies in here).

This little detail was super cute to me, but it also tells you a lot about WLF society. Everyone has a job to do, there is a role and place for everyone to contribute.

I'll talk more about this in another post (titled "It's Silly to Call a Post-apocalyptic Group 'Fascists', but Still the WLF Is Pretty Messed Up"), but an important thing to remember about the WLF is that everything comes down to Issac. He has the final say on everything, he makes all the major decisions, he picks squad leaders, he decides who needs to be punished, he's basically the Supreme Leader. Issac has been shown to be somewhat progressive with some things (you can follow whatever religion you want or none at all in the WLF, the WLF has no problem with LGBTQ people, you can get medical waivers for military duty, they provide support for pregnant women and parents, etc.), and in other ways he is very much the opposite (he punishes anyone who disagrees with him - this could be a relatively light punishment of a crappy assignment or it could be a beating, then there's the whole attempted genocide thing). Anyway, my point is that there are good things about the WLF, but also there is a serious darkside.

Anyway, when I saw this lady and her baby I immediately thought of Dina doing this with JJ while she gardens.

I absolutely loveeeee this little detail. A mural for the fallen. This really reminds me of some stuff you could see today, just replace the wolf with an eagle and make the uniforms camo.

There are 46ish names on this wall, so I wonder if it is continuously updated or if there are multiple murals, because they definitely have lost more people than that over the years. Also, there are about 150 people at the FOB (the amount of bodies at the FOB, yes I counted) that will need to be added. Maybe the war with the Seraphites just really exploded in the last few weeks (or maybe longer) leading up to Ellie's arrival.

I love that you can pause during the ride with Abby, Mel, and Manny to look around the outside of the stadium. Immediately outside there are train tracks and what appears to be a large market running along side of it. This is on the west side of the stadium, I believe. A major highway intersection is also nearby.

The market has all sorts of goods, food, gas, clothing, cleaning products, TVs and other electronics, records, and even more. I wonder if this is some sort of intake area for any goods they bring back to the base. But who runs these little shops? From some notes you can find we know their economy runs on trade, so how does this work?

Once you get past the market area, you see a pretty vast section of farmland. I loved this shot because it also shows one of their rain water storage areas. They mark this water as to be used only for irrigation, so they must use something else for people to drink and bathe with. Or maybe they just filter some water for people to use, and the rest goes to the plants.

In the background you can see the wall and a guard tower. There is a larger wall (like much larger, I'm talking maybe 5 stories) around the QZ, and a smaller one that runs around the stadium.

This is labeled "Checkpoint #4", so I'm not sure if that means there are other gates, but this is the only one we see in game.

The wall is pretty thick, and you can see these guard towers spaced out all alongside it (much like in Jackson). Once you leave the walls you are immediately surrounded by the wasteland that is post-apocalyptic Seattle.

[nav-arre]

These Birds You Cannot Cage

A piece for FebuWhump 2021, day 3: Imprisonment. 3549 Words. Can also be read here on ao3! Rated T! Tags for violence, broken bones, vomiting, and Nilfgaard being the fuckin’ worst.

Sodden burns and Yennefer runs. Staggers, really, though it’s hard to tell the difference in her state. She can hear nothing but white noise like a distant blaze roaring. Occasionally her vision blacks out and when she comes to she’s somewhere completely different and has not stopped moving. She can’t. She tries to reach inside herself to draw from her well of power, but—

For the first time since learning of its existence, of putting a name to the fire inside her, her chaos is depleted. It’s worse than worn out, it’s so empty a part of her begins to assume it’s gone forever. If she had time to feel an emotion— dread, rage, fear, hopelessness— she might. But all she has is her body pushing her forward, strength and speed she didn’t know she could muster after this level of exertion, towards something shaped vaguely like freedom. Safety.

Honestly, she wasn’t really sure what freedom was anymore. Once, it had been a young man who watched her grow into herself, made her feel like anything was possible. Another time, it had been an academy that promised it could help her craft her chaos. Later, it had been proximity to wealth, riches, royalty. After that, it had been her, alone, making her own rules on her own terms.

And then, of course, freedom had come to her in the form of a world-weary witcher, amber eyes, and the unspoken promise to never tie one another down. Never clip the other’s wings.

Freedom was meant to be choice.

Freedom, Yennefer thought, was a beautiful, wretched lie.

When she finally stumbles, she crashes on the ground in an unceremonious heap. Her head swims and when she tries to rise up, push on, she finds her arms shake too fiercely and betray her. The white noise in her ears begins to fade and as she tries to focus on the ground in front of her she sees them. Boots, surrounding her. Shadows, looming.

They stand stock still. Someone is yelling, “Now is your chance, you idiots—” and then “She’s empty. Poor little mage used up her powers… but she’s still useful to us. Grab her, now.”

Freedom may have been a lie but actual imprisonment… that was something else entirely. Yennefer pushes herself away, bumping into what’s either a tree or somebody's legs, and hears laughter dribble out from the guards. She nearly wretches in disgust.

Next is the feeling of hands (she thinks it’s dozens, must be, but it may only be four,) gruff and far too tight. They wrench her off the ground and her vision is too blurred to make out any of their faces.

And just when she tries to steady her head and meet her captors face on, her vision swims again and consciousness slips away.

x

Yennefer wakes and immediately wretches what little she has in her stomach into a bucket next to her.

She’s cuffed in dimitrium, and everything feels so wrong. The floor is grimy, and as soon as she has a moment to breathe she heaves, pulls against her binds like she has even a chance of escaping.

“Thank fuck.”

Of all the voices she had to hear right now—

Yennefer lifts her head, tosses some hair out of her face to see better and there, directly across from her, is the continent’s most irritating bard. She groans.

“Mmmmm, yeah, not my choice of company either, but thank you for that,” he says. She gives him a stare. He looks… messy. Hair grown out a bit, stubble on his face, dark circles under his eyes. His shirt, which may have once been a cream color but was now a rather unfortunate motley of filth, is opened low enough to see a few dark bruises peeking out. There's a long scar on his neck, healed, but concerning nonetheless.

“But you were… really out there for a while. You alright? Relatively, I mean.”

Yennefer rolls her eyes.

“I’m in a prison cell. Actually, I’m in a prison cell with you, which is worse. There not much relatively to it.”

“Listen Yennefer, I don’t like you either but so long as we’re here together we might as well not be at each other’s throats. I love a good drama as much as the next bard but I don’t have the energy to fight both you and them.”

He’s not bouncing his leg as he so often does, and she wonders if there are bruises there too. Wonders how deep they run.

“Fine,” she says. “Only so long as we’re stuck. How long have you been here?”

Without the use of his hands, Jaskier’s taken to using his head to gesticulate. It looks absolutely nonsensical. “Oh,” he says after a few moments, “Three of four months?” Yennefer’s eyes bulge. “What month is it now?”

She tells him, and his head tips back in laughter. “Oh, okay, lovely. More like 6, then. Ah, how time flies when you’re being held against your will!”

Yennefer frowns. “And he hasn’t… come for you?”

Jaskier’s expression darkens, and he shakes his head. “Can you do that mind thing?” He whispers. She shakes her head.

“Not with dimitrium on me.”

Jaskier sighs. “I’m not saying anything about him, not out loud, not in here. Though, they said their mage will be seeing me next, so I don’t know how long that will matter for.”

Yennefer frowns, and thinks. They should be able to communicate this quietly without the guard's understanding. They’re not nearby, at least, and there are none likely smart enough to realize what they’re doing if they’re smart about it. “The mountain?”

“What? I— Oh, I see: Yes.” He catches on quickly.

“And then the two of you…?”

He shakes his head. “Just me.”

“Just you?” He'd left the mountain alone?

He hums in agreement. “And nothing since.” That'd been over a year ago now, and he hadn't seen Geralt in all that time?

“Idiot,” she mutters. “He tore his whole life to shreds.”

Jaskier shrugs, and looks… truly downtrodden, for the first time. She could see the months of wear against him. “I’m far from his whole life. That’s more of your specialty.”

Yennefer snorts. “Not really. And not by choice, apparently.”

“Would you be?” He asks and seems genuinely curious. There’s no bite to it. Like he really wants to hear her opinion. “If you had the choice?”

It’s an honest question, and she realizes she’s never stopped to think about an honest answer to it without being clouded by anger. She doesn’t like what this bard is doing to her already— what right did he have to make her feel important?

“Maybe if he’d given it,” Yennefer says after a second. She doesn’t like that it took even that long to consider it. “Taking away my choice takes away any goodwill we had, though.”

Jaskier nods. “Makes sense,” he says. “Can’t imagine an eagle likes its wings being clipped.” He sits back against the wall and closes his eyes. It strikes her that he doesn’t sound pleased. Of anyone, shouldn’t he be happy for her misfortune in love with the witcher? His witcher?

Well. Their witcher, she supposed. She hated the implications.

There’s silence. There’s silence, with Jaskier. As if things didn’t already feel dismal and strange enough. It was like a stream suddenly going silent. It was supposed to make noise. She stares at the scar on his neck and wonders.

It feels like the walls are going to fall down around her as she lets the reality sink in. There’s likely no getting out of this, she’s just here, they’re both just here, and unless someone on the outside does something, they’re likely to be there until her chaos eats her alive, or one of them is otherwise killed.

She wants to hear the steady stream of his voice. She wonders where his lute is. She tries to picture something to take her out of the place she’s stuck, the four walls that may end up as her casket.

“You’re not going to… sing something? Or whatever it is you do?” What had stopped the bird from singing? (Was that a worse fate than clipped wings, or the same?)

Jaskier opens his eyes to look at her and it feels like he’s seeing something she doesn’t even see in herself. It’s uncomfortable. He closes his eyes again.

“I haven’t sung,” he says softly, “in nearly 6 months.”

They’re there for weeks.

“Do you have any way to get out of here?” Jaskier asks late one evening when they both can’t sleep.

“Maybe, but only if I got these cuffs off me,” she admits. “Even then, it’d be a gamble. And if you’re still cuffed as well, I’m not sure I could do both. My chaos is… broken.”

There are a few beats of quiet. She wonders if he’s somehow fallen asleep. Then,

“I asked if you had a way out of here, Yennefer.”

Ah. She can hear his soft smile. Shit. That wasn’t what he’d meant? Was that not— did she really just assume him into her escape plans? Of all people?

“I assumed you meant—”

“Listen,” he says, “assume away. But when it comes time… don’t let me slow you down.”

She doesn’t know what to say to that, so she doesn’t.

She doesn’t sleep, that night.

“Do you hate him?” he asks another night.

“Yes,” she says, and everything aches. “Sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?”

She nods. “And you?”

He nods back. “Only sometimes.”

The days slip and fall together.

This is what it feels like to be in a cage:

Her bones feel like lead, her mind feels like lead. The dimitrium weighs down something inside her, too, and it’s even more difficult to stomach the gruel they serve day in and day out. The cell is dark and cavernous, large enough to fit fifteen more prisoners at least, but it seems to be reserved for the two of them. Small sounds echo for ages and threaten to drive her mad.

(It feels like a door locked from the outside, a handle too high to reach.)

This is what it feels like to have a cage inside of you:

Yennefer had a scream inside her, ripping at her insides, desperate to get out. Her chaos, budding slowly, had never felt so oppressive and unnatural before. She knows if she goes too long with these cuffs on her, it’ll explode outward, and she knows Nilfgaard is willing to play that game of chance.

(It feels like knowing you’ve already ruined everything.)

This is what it feels like to be in a cage with Jaskier:

The bard was quieter than normal, but when he talked it was a mile a minute— when they let themselves argue or hiss at each other, whenever they would banter or bitch. She could lose herself in his stupid, often unfairly funny, labyrinthian trains of thought. She often did. She suspected that was what he meant to happen. He still doesn’t sing.

(It feels like being handed a key.)

The guards are cruel. When they pull Jaskier away, he goes softly, sometimes throwing a quip at them but more often allowing it without a word. She tries to pull attention away, tries to make an ordeal of it, but they barely look at her, even when she screams bloody murder. And every time, he comes back bloody and bruised, sometimes with a bone broken, and every time he fights it in near silence. She complains about the meaningless drama of the powerful people in her circles to pass the time, and occasionally he smiles through his pain, or gives a laugh behind quiet sobs.

When they pull Yennefer away… it’s not nearly as often as they haul away the bard, but every time, he snaps at their heels like a dog. Now there was a bard she recognized, running his mouth and saying everything he ought not to. Once, a guard twists her sending her falling to the ground, and feels a bone in her hand snap. She expects Jaskier to make a fuss, but he’s quiet.

“I’ll kill you myself,” he says softly to the guard, and somehow she feels it’s a promise he’d do anything make good on.

x

“Yennefer,” Jaskier says one morning, low and careful. “Would you be able to do it today?”

She closes her eyes, concentrates. She can feel her chaos locked within her, scratching at her, desperate and hungry. But how much she has to burn, there’s no way of knowing. It’s something, though. She looks up at the bard, his gaze on her steadily.

“I could try.”

He nods. “You’re going to think I’m mad, but— I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?”

They stare at each other. Somewhere, a door slams.

“Of course not, obviously not, have you met me? But it’s an idea, which means it’s got a better chance at working than all of our other nonexistent, well crafted and reliable ideas.”

Yennefer rolls her eyes, but she finds she’s… smiling again; he has a talent for that. When she glances back at him he’s got a small grin as well, but he’s biting it back. She wonders if he even realizes he’s doing it.

“Will you at least tell me what it is?”

“Nope! Actually, no; need to preserve the surprise, keep everything feeling authentic. Crucial to a major performance. Possibly my most major to date, considering the stakes."

“Fine. But if things go wrong, I’ll carve you open with a rusty nail and replace your liver with a salamander.”

“You know, I could also just take this back!” he says, “I could undo the idea! Idea gone, I like my liver where it is, it’s very hard to operate with a liver on the outside of one’s body, thank you.”

Their smiles are almost real now even in this false reality of a cell. She can really say anything to him, right now, and he won’t look at her like damaged goods. Then again, once they’re out, he could very well attempt to discard her. She’d beat him to the punch.

It hurt to think about. Wasn’t she above this, by now? Above her own heart?

She looks at the bard, disheveled, smiling, and with something that looks like excitement in his eyes, and sighs.

“Best of luck,” she says, and she doesn’t know who she’s talking to anymore.

x

The lone guard comes later than usual, and Jaskier is so full of anxious energy she thinks he might burst. He’s been making low humming noises all day, like he’s warming up for a performance— a bit dramatic, she thinks, but she’s not going to fault him his coping mechanisms while they were restrained in a Nilfgaardian prison. If they made it out, however, she made no promises.

(The thought of an After, where she saw this stupid, bumbling bard, spoke to him willingly and without malice for his general incompetence, disgusted her. She wanted it so, so badly.)

The regular soft thudding of boots down the corridor made both their heads snap up to the door. Jaskier took a breath in and closed his eyes.

“You ready for your pièce de résistance?” Yennefer jokes, straightening her back and lifting her chin. No sense in letting them see her any less dignified than she already was.

Jaskier doesn’t meet her eyes and reply until the boots are just outside the door. “I am,” he says, and it’s so deadly serious Yennefer reels for a moment.

The door opens, and the guard that comes in is the same that usually comes to drag them off; today the oaf saunters in and makes sure to wipe some grime of undetermined origin off the sole of his shoe and onto her already ruined dress. She rolls her eyes.

“Oh, gods,” she mutters sarcastically, “what will I do now with a stained dress.”

He bends forward to grip her chin, and she finds herself less than an inch away from his face— it looks like hatred. Warm breath from his nose hits her face and she can hear Jaskier’s chains rattling as he strains forward, wanting to rip the two apart.

“Better play nice, doll,” he says softly, a voice like cheaply cut gravel, “or I’ll make it so you can’t play at all.”

His breath smells like—she makes a face.

“If you let me out of these cuffs,” she says, sweetly as she can manage, giving a flutter of her lashes, “I could help you with your… dental hygiene?”

She expects the slap. What she does not expect, is Jaskier’s reaction.

“This is so fucking boring.”

Yennefer frowns and the guard frowns deeper before turning.

“Excuse me?”

If she hadn’t known to expect something from him today, she would have missed the quiet fire in his eyes. He sits back against the wall, looking otherwise nonchalant.

“You do this every other day! I want some real fucking entertainment.”

The guard snarls and turns back to Yennefer, reaching to undo her cuffs from the wall.

“Well, fine then. If you won’t provide any, I will.”

Oh, fuck. She knew exactly what this was.

“When a humble bard, graced a ride along…”

His voice is rough with disuse and lower than she’s used to hearing it. For a moment, she thinks it sounds like a million birds flying, like a key in a door, like the most beautiful sound in the world.

“CAN IT, bard. You know what happened last time you sung.”

“With Geralt of Rivia!” he shouts more than sings, “Along came this song!” His voice echoes throughout the complex, hitting them from a million directions. The guard yanks Yennefer to her feet and looks deeply, deeply angry.

“From when the White Wolf fought, a silver tongued devil—” The guard takes a few strides to loom over the bard, a wild look in his eyes, pulling Yennefer with him. The echoing was overwhelming already, Jaskier projecting with full force. The guard bent to get his face close to Jaskier’s. He’d been right— she thought he was mad, even now as she realized his move.

“His army of elves—”

“You’re done with, you fucking—”

“With his HOOVES—” Jaskier sang, and threw his foot up, hitting the guard squarely between the legs. He dropped the keyring to their cuffs and fell to the ground with a groan. “—did they revel,” Jaskier cackles as he lets the words flow out.

Yennefer seizes on the opportunity, twisting to grab up the keys even with her hands behind her. She takes delight in stomping on the same spot Jaskier had a moment before, watching the guard roll over in agony. The bard keeps singing, even louder now, and the guard’s cries are dwarfed easily.

She fiddles with the keys until finally, she unlocks herself. Her chaos ripples out, and already she hears footsteps thundering toward them. It feels like she’s grown wings, like her chest has opened, and she realizes after a moment she’s screaming in relief, arms thrown wide, head tipped back. She shakes it off, lets her power crackle through her. By now, Jaskier had gotten to the chorus.

“O’ Valley of Plenty, oh— RUN!” he shouts, and she smiles so wide she feels her lips crack. She reaches out a hand and prays she can still focus herself after all this time.

Jaskier’s cuffs explode.

She grabs at him, and throws out a portal just as the footsteps clattering to their door get close, and she turns to see a dozen guards and a mage— not Fringilla, thank the gods— rushing toward them. She’s still got something left, so with Jaskier still singing by her side, she caves in the ceiling above them and lets the bard pull them into the portal.

x

On the other side, it’s approaching evening. She can see a mountain, in the corner of her eye. The bard, looking frantic, takes up most of her field of vision. Breathing is difficult at best, and she feels him adjust her against a tree. She coughs, and breath returns to her slowly. He kneels beside her, and lays his head against her shoulder. It’s the first kind touch she’s felt in weeks; the first for him in over half a year. Yennefer leans her head against his and soon he's wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

Maybe, she thinks deliriously, freedom could just be a warm embrace at just the right moment.

“Not bad,” she says when her chest moves more easily, “for being out of practice nearly 7 months.”

He laughs. It’s wonderful.

“Not bad for someone with ‘broken’ chaos.” He leans back to look at her, and then at their surroundings. “I…” he frowns. “I know where we are.”

She raises an eyebrow. “I don’t.”

“It’s. Ah. We’re in Kaedwen. Near Ard Carraigh. It’s near Kaer Morhen,” he gives by way of explanation.

“Of course,” she groans.

“Let's... let's get to an inn, I'll find us a room. Rooms? We’ll figure out payment later, but you need rest. If you’re willing to extend the peace treaty a little further, that is?”

She looks at him and chooses to believe it's chaos that puts her heart in a viselike grip and squeezes, not something in his eyes.

“I can go a little further,” Yennefer says, and lets her eyes fall closed as a breeze kisses her cheek.

[nebraska-is-a-myth]

Drown your sorrows - part 7

Grab your tissues dude, this one is not a happy one at all. I'm sorry in advanced

special shout out to my pal @hufflepuffkilljoy for helping me with some details for this chapter. I also feel like they’re going to kill me after reading this so wish me luck.

Masterlist

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Tommy is fortunate enough to stay conscious this time.

It's a lot warmer than the warehouse was and he's still just as afraid.

But he feels more prepared for the heat now.

Tubbo was so close to the first explosion, too close. Tommy watches the blast separate them and he can hear his friends desperate coughs from across the burning room. He can't get up, his wrist is hurt and his injured leg burns every time he tries to put pressure on it. He calls for Tubbo but he doesn't think his friend can hear him between his endless coughing and the roaring flames.

He's so thankful Tubbo isn't alone when Eret finally shows, the older man slips masks on both of them and they huddle together for a moment before Tommy hears something explode below them. He tries to cling to Eret as he reaches for Tubbo and they all plummet down into freezing water.

He and Eret sink into the water and the harshness of it makes Tommy gasp. 

Water seeps in through his mask and the tightness of it makes him panic

He attempts to take the mask off, as if that might make him less disorientated.

It's doesn't

He takes a big gulp of water into his mouth and suddenly he can't stop.

He's drowning.

His limbs flail about and he cant help but scream into the water as pain ruptures through him. He keeps taking in more and more water and his lungs spasm as they fill with murky liquid. Tommy doesn't know where he is, it's dark and cold and he doesn't know which way is up and if his body wasn't already submerged in water he thinks he might cry.

Tommy doesn't want to die

There are so many things he hasn't done yet, so many things he hasn't said.

He wanted to take Tubbo to his favorite place in the city and go adventuring through the abandoned buildings Dream used to let him demolish when he was angry or upset. He wanted to tell his best friend in the whole word that he loved him, that they were brothers until the end. He never really had the courage to say it before now, thought it would make him sound childish and weird. ( Really he was just afraid that Tubbo wouldn't feel the same, and he wasn't ready to let his best friend go just yet. )

He wanted to thank Wilbur for taking him into l’manburg, for trusting him and becoming the older brother figure he never thought he needed ( or wanted ). For teaching him how to properly aim a gun and negotiate something without shouting, for letting him become the heir to the empire they built. 

He thinks about all the movie nights with fundy and Eret, remembers popcorn fights and sleepovers, baking competitions and playing video games till early dawn. He remembers waking up from nightmares and talking to Eret about his scars, sharing the good and the bad with each and every one of them.

As the seconds roll past, Tommy can feel himself suffocating. His lungs fill with more and more water and his body starts to shut down, the pain is everywhere and nowhere and slowly he becomes blissfully aware that he is going to die here.

In the back of his mind he hopes that dream knows he’s forgiven. If he’s going to die he might as well forgive the man, he knows deep down that dream never wanted any of this and he hopes that his death will spark something in the man, and prevent the bloodshed of his friends.

The last thing on Tommys mind before the darkness swallows him is Technoblade, and he wonders if he’ll finally see him again when he goes to sleep.

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“How old were you when you first killed someone?”

“Jeezus Tubbo what the hell dude.”  

Tommy swats at his best friend who's laying next to him on the wooden floor. They're all laying on piles and blankets and duvets and tucked up in sleeping bags like campers. Popcorn crumbs litter the floor and Tubbo has kernels stuck in his hair after he used the bowl as protection from Tommy throwing pillows at him.

The group decided to have a sleepover to commemorate Wilbur's birthday, all of them laid in a circle around the couches in wilburs living room and Wilbur almost regrets letting them into his house.

Tommy and Tubbo are layed on the floor, heads close to each other facing opposite directions. Tommy is smiling as he flails his arms at the other boy and has his feet resting in Erets lap. Fundy is on Erets left, curled up in 3 blankets like a burrito, a clear sign of Wilburs handiwork after someone made a joke about fundy being wilburs child.

Wilbur himself is half paying attention to the movie they all put on as background noise as he tries not to look like he’s actually enjoying the night his boys had planned.

Nobody spoke at first, no one was really quite sure what to say. Eventually, Wilbur took a breath and spoke in a slight monotone. “fifteen.”

Even though they may have been concerned, nobody was quite as surprised as maybe they should have been. It was a rough line of work, it wasn't really a shock to anyone that their leader had started so young.

“Robbery gone wrong, cops came earlier than expected. Shot one to save myself, nothing more to it.”

Fundy pokes his head out of his blanket burrito a little more and rests his head on his knees. “Got in a fight back in the Netherlands when I was eighteen, ended badly for the other guy.”

Eret is a bit more hesitant to respond but with a reassuring nudge from Tommy, he gives the teen a small smile and takes a breath. “Got involved with a super serious gang back in England when I was sixteen.”

He doesn't say anything more but nobody really blames him. Eret never really talks about his time back in England much, but the team sees the way he gets nervous around cameras and always makes sure he can never be traced wherever he goes. Everyone is running from something, it's why most of them came to America after all.

Tommy doesn't realize it's his turn until he’s noticed everyone's looking at him.

He laughs and swats at Tubbo for a second time. “It's your question you go first.”

Tubbo looks at his friend strangely but shakes it off and reaches to grab a handful of crisps. “Ummm, technically I haven't.”

Tommy listens to his best friend shove a handful of crisps in his mouth and his throat goes dry, he only distantly hears Fundy ask Tubbo a question but his thoughts seem to drown everyone out. 

He knows he has two options here. He knows that lying is the safest one for him, that he could just follow along with what Tubbo said and just get it over with. But he feels compelled to let the truth just spill out of his mouth and let everything into the world. He can't help it when the words start falling from his lips, he so desperately wants to shove everything back into the box he’s kept everything in for years and go back to the fun loving, annoying Tommy everyone knows.

But instead he just had to open his stupid mouth like he always does.

“I uhh, I killed mum.”

Shit

Shit

Shit

“She uhh, bled out, when I was born.”

Shut up

Shut up

Shut up

“So yeah uhh, I guess I win.”

The room is silent, and he’s brought out of his head by Eret rubbing small comforting circles into the bottom of his leg.

“Tommy.”

He really wishes he hadn't spoke

“You know that couldn't have possibly been your doing.”

Wow the ceiling is really interesting

“Tommy.”

He can't speak. If he speaks he’s going to cry and he can't cry. 

Tommyinnit doesn't cry.

He feels Tubbo moving to wrap and arm around him and he really wants to just not be here.

He’s lying on the floor of his bosses friends house, crying in front of the people he cares about most about because he couldn't keep his fucking mouth shut.

Tommy feels himself moving and slowly more and more arms are around him. He feels a blanket being draped over him and suddenly he finds himself sobbing into someone's chest.

Someone is running their hand through his hair and he wonders if that's something his mother would have done for him.

Sometimes he wishes life was different, that maybe he might have had a better childhood if his mother had been in his life for longer than three seconds.

But as he feels his own tears soak into one of his friends' shirts, he thinks that maybe his life ain't so bad.

And later in the night when he's stood on Wilbur's kitchen counter with Erets glasses hanging off his face singing loudly to random Hamilton songs with his friends, he knows he wouldn't change it for the world.

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Tommy wakes up confused and coughing.

He can feel the water spluttering out of his mouth and he feels like he's throwing up his organs.

He’s vividly aware that something doesn't feel right

He feels wrong and disorientated and,,,

He’s underwater?

Tommy flails his limbs about and in a matter of seconds he surfaces into darkness

He coughs up all of the water that's been sloshing about in his lungs and his throat stings as fresh air floods into his body.

Through all the coughing and the sound of water in his ears, he hears a voice calling him.

“Tommy!”

He turns his head to find Eret also treading water on the other side of a mountain of rubble, he has a large gash on the side of his head that looks like it would have dried by now if not for the water continuously splashing against it. His glasses are nowhere to be seen and Erets looking at him like he knows something Tommy doesn't.

“Tommy thank god you're okay.”

Tommy swims over to where Eret is still floating and takes a moment to examine the rubble surrounding his friend. 

Most of it seems to be concrete and rocks piled up around him, but the two big metal pipes separating him and Eret are what concern him. And the fact that Eret hasn't made an attempt to move past them.

"Where's tubbo?"

"He swam over that direction, tried to find a way out I think."

"Why didn't you follow him."

"Tommy."

"Come on we can't just leave him to look on his own. He'd get lost in a bloody parking lot."

Tommy wraps his hands around one of the pipes and attempts to push it out of the way.

Eret doesn't move.

"Tommy I,"

"Waters rising, gotta move this thing before Tubbo ends up swimming into someone's toilet."

The younger boy changed angles and tried to pull the other pipe towards him.

"Tommy."

He feels Eret place his hand on top of his own but the younger boy swats it away and keeps trying to force the pipes out of the way.

“Come on man, just, just try.”

Eret grabs his hand again.

“Just help me okay!”

Water splashes up Tommys nose and he feels tears pricking at his eyes

“Just, Just do something! Please! please” 

Eret grabs a hold of both of tommys hands and holds him as close as the barrier of rubble will let him.

“Please. I can't lose you too.”

Erets voice is soft and calming. Tommy wants him to laugh and point at him and tell him how this is all just a big joke and they can all go home together and watch movies on Wilburs couch.

But he doesn't

“Hey it's okay, you're not gonna lose me alright. I will always, always be with you, no matter what.”

“Don't give me that bullshit. I don't want you in my heart or looking down on me, I want you to stay here, alive.”

“I want that too Tommy, more than anything. But life doesn't always go the way we want it to.”

Eret coughs and shivers in the water, he looks up and realizes that neither of them have a lot of time left before the water fills the room. They both know Tommy can't stay here any longer, and it's only a matter of time before the coldness of the water gives him hypothermia.

“You need to go.”

“No.”

“Tommy.”

“No I am not leaving you here!”

“You don't have a choice Tommy!”

“Yes I do! Now help me move these goddamn pipes”

“For fuck sake Tommy! I am stuck down here! Those pipes aren't going to move and I'm not leaving this fucking basement. You need to go, now!”

“I-”

“Tommy you are my brother and I will always love you but you need to get the fuck out of here right now.”

“Tommy, Eret!”

“Down here.”

Eret hears Wilbur jump down into the freezing water and he can faintly see him swimming towards him and Tommy.

“You guys okay?”

“Yes now get him out of here.”

“I said no!”

“What about you.”

“I'll be fine just go.”

Wilbur takes a moment, a moment of weakness, a moment of emotion and sadness and he looks at Eret, his friend. He feels the water clog his nostrils and nods, with his heart heavy and his mind full, he drags a tired and freezing Tommy away.

“Wilbur let me go!”

“We can't leave him!”

“we have to help him!”

“Wilbur!”

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

Later on when everyone's safe and dry and the adrenaline and panic has left his system, Wilbur finds himself gazing up at his reflection in his bathroom mirror. Every time he looks at himself all he can see is the look in his friends eyes before he left him to drown, he remembers the hurt in his face and his willingness to die just to see Tommy safe. Every time he closes his eyes it's all he sees.

Wilbur stands up tall and strong in front of himself and plasters on the face of a warrior, a face that dream and George and sapnap will forever fear. He vows on this day that he will teach them what true fear feels like, no more kind words or friendly disputes.

He doesn't care about making allies or keeping peace.

His city is in danger

His mind is broken

His friends are traumatized

Eret is dead

And Wilbur wants vengeance.

If dream wants war, he’ll give him war.

[fabuloussisterofsin]

The Man Who Wouldn't Bow To Death

Summary:

Boba Fett is the most feared Bounty Hunter galaxy, he is ruthless, he is a man who bowed to no one. Boba Fett fell into the Sarlacc and survived. He survived, acid, pain, and teeth and he is still the standard after all this time. Boba Fett gives his allegiance to no one, or so he thought. After the events of the Mandalorian and his take over of the Hutt Crime syndicate with Fennec Shand at his side, his life seems to be in order once again. A king must have his throne, but.. a king must have a Queen too. When a hunt goes wrong and a charming young woman begs for her life, will Boba Feet heed her pleas or will he do his job?

In The Man Who Wouldn't Bow To Death, Boba Fett finds, love, hope, and a future for the Fett name once more.

Boba Fett X Original Female Character Fic

The Man Who Wouldn't Bow To Death

Chapter One: Maydala Bentar

Maydala Bentar was disguised as a dancer. Thinking she was finally safe from the hordes of bounty hunters now that she killed the last Hutt

Boba scanned the room, looking for his bounty. He heard that she was in attendance tonight, and he was determined to catch her. Her face was covered and She felt secure even when she saw the Mando bounty Hunter walk in. Enter

Boba sat at a bar near the dancers, by himself, watching the crowd.

She moved her way over to the bounty hunter pretending to be a lady of pleasure. “Hello, weary traveler.” She stood in front of him.

"Hello." He said in his low, gravelly voice.

“What brings you to my cantina?” She asked him as she danced near him. “In need of some company?”

"Something like that." He replied.

She moved her body in an alluring way.

He'd know those eyes anywhere. She was the one he was looking for. "I'm looking for a girl, and I think you might be the right one."

“Well, I’m not a girl I’m a woman, and I’m the right one for the right price.” She said trying not to panic.

She kept up her ruse. “What’s the name of the girl.” She said as she slowly undid her top hoping to distract him.

"I don't know her whole name. It starts with an M. Anyway, there are more.... pressing matters." He said, looking down into his lap. "I'm more interested in a woman right now. Whatever the price, let's go to a room."

“I highly doubt you can afford me.” She said to him. “Big money for this big honey.” She sat on his lap and went to lift his helmet. “Her name starts with an M. Right?”

He batted her hand away. "You do not lift a Mandalorian's helmet. And I am Boba Fett, I can afford whomever I want. As for her, let's forget about her for now." His hand traveled her thigh. Enter

“I apologize master Fett. My other Mandalorian clients usually let me take their helmets off.” She cooed. “Yes, let’s head to the best room, yes? Only the best for the best bounty hunter in the galaxy. She went to put her top back on.

"I'll agree to that." He said, watching her face. Her eyes were luminous, beautiful, he'd know them anywhere after seeing the holo of her.

“Come with me. I certainly hope you don’t get me mixed up with your bounty.” She teased thinking she was safe.

"No, I'm sure you're not her." He said, following behind her. He'd get her alone, then he would capture her.

“Good I’m glad.” She turned and her eyes smiled at him. She bit her lip under the veil and walked to the room. She opened the door. “2,000 credits per hour, master Fett.”

She brought him into the room. She walked over to the bed and lay down on it. She spread her legs.

He moved to cover her body with his own, the dark of his visor staring her down. Ever so gently, he cuffed one of her wrists with a restraint.

Her hand under the pillow grabbed her expandable staff. “what’s the meaning of this?”

"I'm here to take you in!" He said as he held her down by the wrists, his legs on either side of her thighs.

“Please I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She tried to play innocent and sweet calling up tears. “Please I’m just a dancer here. My name is Adamé Vetur!” She lied. Her finger finding the button on her staff.

He reached out and pulled the veil from her face. "You are Maydala Bentar, and I'm going to take you in."

“It’s a shame you had to find me.” She gave him a wicked smile when her staff exploded and hit him between the armor plates and electrocuted him. She kicked him off her grabbed her bag. “See ya later.”

His body buzzing with electricity, Boba struggled to his feet and lunged at the door, grabbing onto doorframes and walls as he pursued her.

She got ahead of him and quickly threw in other clothes over her dances outfit. She dropped the back. Stuffed her valuables in her pockets and shortened her staff and headed out the door with a crowd.

He had caught up to her and followed her outside, groping for her arm. She turned and got him again with the electricity before sprinting off. “Just leave me be. Lose my locator!” She yelled after him.

He grunted and. Curled into himself before he kept at her and pulled her to the ground by her waist.

She thrashed and took her staff and hit him upside the head. “LET Me GO!”

He clamped the other cuff on her wrist. "No. You're coming with me." He stood, took her staff, and hauled her over his shoulder

She shrieked and yelled at him. “Put me down you bucket head. I shouldn’t be arrested!” She yelled. “It’s an imperial bounty.”

"Who do you think I'm taking you to?"

“Whoever gives you the fucking money!” She yelled and managed to hook his helmet on her shackles and she yanked it off him and she tumbled to the ground.

He growled at her and bent down to grab at her.

She kicked at him. “I’m not going to jail, not for what I did. I saved people from a fucking hurt that’s not a crime!”

"And why should I believe you?"

“Tebara the Hutt, he put the bounty on me for freeing his slaves and killing his henchmen.” She said desperately. Squirming and kicking at him a die began to rain.

"Wait, really?"

“Yes! Look at your puck!” She squirmed on the ground getting covered in mud.

He took out the pick and checked it. "Kriff. I can't take you in for that." He spoke.

You won’t be the last.” She said to him. “Others won’t be so kind, so please, put me out of my misery.”

She looked at him with pleading eyes.

Looking into her eyes, he couldn't bring himself to hurt her. He reached out his hand to take hers.

“Kind of bound here.” She laughed.

He reached out both hands and took hers, helping her out of the mud. "Hold on a second." He said as he undid the cuffs. Then he looked around and picked up his wet helmet.

She didn’t run. She stared into his face and she felt her heart flutter.

He watched her briefly before turning his head. "It's dark, I'm going to find somewhere to sleep."

“Nice seeing you Fett.” She assumed she was on her own.

"Don't go back to being a dancer. You're too beautiful for that." He said as he turned to walk away, helmet in his hand.

“I was never a good dancer, I was more of a hunter, a fighter, and a rebel.” She laughed. “Looking for someone to join your cabal.”

"I work alone." He spoke. "Though I will offer to pay for you a room so you can bathe. You look like a drowned whomp rat."

“Fett, I know you took over Jabba’s palace, and you killed bib Fortuna with the help of Fennec Strand.” She told him. “I know who you are and I’m probably just going to be killed by some other bounty Hunter one day. But.” she smiled at him.

He raised an eyebrow. "But?"

“But if I worked for the most feared Bounty Hunter in the galaxy, we’ll I could live my life and make money.” She smiled at him. “And for your information, I do not look like a drowned womp rat.”

A smile spread across his scarred face. "Come. I'll rent you a room and we can discuss it over breakfast."

“I look forward to that meeting.” She smiled at him. She gave him a flirtatious look. Not the same one from Before but a real one and she was sure he could tell the difference.

“Do you mind if I stop at a drop spot really quick otherwise, we’ll I don’t have any clothes.”

He nodded. "I will accompany you. No one will collect you as bounty tonight."

“Thank you.” She smiled at him. They walked on and grabbed her belongings and then headed to a nearby inn keep.

"A room for me," Boba said before motioning towards her with a tilt of the head. "And one for her."

“I’m sorry sir, but we have one room left for the night.” The twilek innkeeper said to him. “I trust that won’t be a problem.” She said glancing at the wanted poster.

"Not at all," Boba said as he passed over the credits.

“Thank you.” She said to boba as he handed her the key chip.

He nodded. "As I said, no one will capture you tonight."

[rightnowyoucanttell]

Malibu, Next To You

Title: Malibu, Next To You 

Summary: Is it supposed to this hot all summer long? Or is it just him? A very fluffy date with some minor molehills between Veronica and Grayson on a Malibu beach. Just because the sun is down, the night is still young, and so are they. But which way does it go...

Warnings: Fluff, implied smut (I don’t write smut, sorry guys), talks of anxiety 

A/N: When this idea came to mind, i say that because i have a roughly planned full series timeline in my head it started with just the first part as a blurb but then I was like hey let's make a series, it was originally to be a reader insert (Y/N, Y/L/N, ect.) but i always have problems doing that as they feel too weird to write so I came up with Veronica and added it to the plot/timeline whatever you'd call it. so you can do that or appreciate it for the beauty it is with Veronica and Grayson. 

Tags: @dzoint ​ @graysavant @blindedbythelightt ​ @tadadolan @heartofalionxo ​ @beatement-l ​  @grayswhore ​@saggitariusagirl @tattoogray @onlyangels-world @dxlxnbby

Part one 

Series Masterlist

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

“You know..” Ronnie drifted as she walked kicking the sand beneath her feet forward in a rhythmic pattern,” I’ve never enjoyed going to the beach..” Veronica glanced up from the sand and over to Grayson who gazed down to the ground before making eye contact.

The smell of saltwater brushed their noses, seagulls cawed in the distance as the water crashed closer and closer and then pulled itself back out. The pair, Ronnie and Gray watched the sunset as they walked barefoot as the tide came in and set back out, like both of their hearts, coming to a calm stop and then flooding back in a rampage of fluttering butterflies, beating in there chest.

He explained the currents and she just gawked in a secretive manner, so he didn’t notice, the dumbfounded look his body gave her. 

    “Really? You don’t say, I mean I figured that much, for someone who has a fear of seagulls and drowning…” he pondered the thought as his feet stopped the wallow in the incoming tide that was just far enough from Ronnie who was in the dry portion of sand.

She giggled shaking her head continuing down the shore all while facing Grayson,”..are you saying you’re not enjoying yourself?” he shouted over the crashing waves that he ran from to catch up to her. 

“You remembered…,” Ronnie’s heart fluttered. Grayson knew about her anxiety.  Ronnie explained to Grayson that night in Starbucks, her fears, in return for him doing the same.  There was a semi prolix list. Seagulls, birds, circus clowns, large crowds, heights, and significantly Drowning.

She shook herself from the bliss and continued, “but, no. No no, no.. of course not. You brought me here!” she exclaimed twirling with open arms, the wind catching her grey wool shawl that covered her white strapless sundress with bright red roses.

Her damp dark brown hair caught in the breeze flew gently, her eyelids covered her vibrant green eyes. Grayson’s eyes followed Veronica in awe as she twirled in the sand and breeze all the way as she ran back to him and nearly ran into him. 

   The two laughed and turned around to walk back to the there picnic blanket, both inaudible deciding it was time to eat,” Your something else, you know that?” he offered up to the conversation. His hand brushed against gently against Ronnie’s. 

   Ronnie just smiled letting silence sit between then,”..Something good I hope…” the entirety of the walk back to the picnic blanket and the food was silence, blissful and incentive for Grayson, but nervous and nerve wracking for Veronica. She hastily wondered if she had said the wrong thing, or turned him off or away and that’s why he hadn’t said anything, but she tried telling herself it was just the anxiety and the nerves this Italian boy from New Jersey stirred up. 

  Veronica Chandler likely always would be anxiety-ridden. After all, Fears my life, Ronnie had the words tattooed on and wrapping around her wrist. The black ink still had water droplets from when she had been swimming and wading in the water with Grayson. Veronica left the fishing on her stepfather’s, Darren,  boat to him and her older brother Noah, even all the while, an excelling science student, she never got how they were floating.  

    However, if tonight, if Grayson asked her, Ronnie probably would step foot on a boat.  She never willing went to the beach, even though living in Miami with private beach access growing up at her home, and certainly did not stand by the ocean. But on this evening, Grayson brought her there, and she was happy that he did.

So here they were. 

  The sunset warmed Veronica the pinks and blues entangling themselves, like the hopes of how Veronica undeniably wanted to be entangled with Grayson later that night. Something in Grayson hoped it too.

On a picnic blankets, following a stroll along with the tide on the now rather deserted from the public eye, on a beach in Malibu. Munching on what Ronnie’s mom would call “Rabbit Food”. 

  “This is one of the best wraps I’ve ever tasted,” Ronnie added as she quietly finished chewing her toes in the sand below and surrounding the blanket. 

"Its from.." Grayson paused to chew," this stand in downtown LA, Marty's I think, they're delicious." They made eye contact, Ronnie smiled with her eyes, covering her mouth as she was chewing.

"We should go together sometime,"Ronnie offered nervously.

 "Defiently...,"Grayson brushed his hands above the wrap on a clear piece of plastic wrap beefy ass salad chickpea wrap sat on, in between final swallows of his bites of food he started, "so... care to explain why you ignored me for a week, 'ronica?"

   That's when the evening went south.

What Grayson didn't know, that the week Veronica avoided him..one week desperate Gray was left with no sign she was alive, no text, calls, and no DM’S except the confirmation seen from the first night. 

 That week the week she ignored him, the week he was referring too, Veronica,  was in Miami visiting her mother. Veronica had deep-rooted feelings for Grayson.. but, again, like a record used, the last had left a few scratches, and overtime... they scarred.

But it was nothing, Gianna, Mama Chandler couldn't fix...

   Ronnie sighed heavily,"Why does everyone I love settle for someone so low of them?" She pondered the thought in silence as she finished her rant of the night she met Grayson.

 “..well, he sounds like a keeper..and handsome....,” her mother drifted. Ronnie wasn’t paying attention fondling with the small strands that belonged to the blue and white polka-dotted beach towel her mother and herself were tanning on. Within seconds her attention was grabbed by an incoming frisbee, that landed...perfectly in one of the white polka dots. Ronnies eyes widened when she caught its sight, she gazed curiously and then picked it up examine it, before tossing it to the wind aimlessly,”-Veronica! You could have hit someone!” Gianna gently smacked the four-arm of her daughter’s right hand with the back of her hand. 

    “Mom!? What the fuck? Did you not see that it landed in the circle, that’s not a coincidence...that’s a fucking conspiracy. Like how a cartoon predicted 9/11 and then moon landing was faked...," Ronnie slumped back so her back rested against the beach chair set up behind her. 

"It was an accidental coincidence..dear," her mother licked the tip of her finger pulling the pages apart. Her sun hat covers her sunglasses covered eyes, and held her brown hair in place around her shoulders, she was paler than Ronnie, she and noah got there skin from her absentee father, he was the Brazilian in her jeans.

"Yeah well, accidents don't just happen, accidentally, mother," Veronica huffed and crossed her arms leaning back farther and closing her eyes, enjoying momental peace before the woman started up again.

"When you head back to Los Angeles, you better text that boy, I'll be damned if you pass up a chance with someone like that. He's a good one that Grayson, I can tell. You cant let your life wither away to nothing and give up on love because of one bad drinker and a beater bad apple.. theres good people out there.. you just gotta look in front of you."

The memory on the beach faded, she hadn't realized she had been gazing into Grayson's hazel eyes the entire time the flashback played out in her head like a scene from a movie,"do you, uh. Really want to know? Is it fundamentally necessary.." she drifted off leaving a tenacious gap of silence. Just the wind and the waves to be heard.

Grayson scoffed a chuckle,"..well, no, but, I'd like to know."

Ronnie thought for a few moments, if she didnt tell him, he'd be suspicious, if she told him he might doubt the feelings she had if they were legitament,"I was in Miami. With my mom, i needed advice. A break. I was worried you were..a player. And now I know, I know that your not. Your kind, cute, hot, sexyyy, and-"Veronica's ramble was cut off by Graysons hands wrapping and cupping her head into his hands and pressing his lips to hers.

Internal fire works went off, if it were a movie they would be exploding over the water between there heads just visable to camera shot. Both hearts beat against there respective rib cages, not knowingly they both had been wating for this moment the entirety of the night.

Ronnie's hand came to touch Grays chest shortly before she came up to breath in the salty air,"that.." she panted,"was hot. But, I dont know.. if this'll work. I'm lonely and broken.. and can barely take care of myself, just, Grayson-"

"I like that your broken, and lonely" he grasped her face one hand still behind her head his thumb caressing her cheek,"not like in a kinky sort of way," they both laughed for a few seconds, Ronnie looked down. He placed his pointer fingern underneath her chin, tilting it up,"I could be lonely with you.."

"My place or yours?" She smirked. Hoping that night of entanglement would happen after all.

"Mine, definetly mine." He breathed there chins pressed together.

Ronnie had never run faster than she didn that night, all the way back to the porsche.

[suitofvibraniumarmor]

Boston Boys [Part Six]

Summary:  Chris and Aurelie discuss family; Chris and Elsa have their first date.   Pairing: Chris Evans x OFC, John Krasinski x OFC Word Count: 2235 Chapter Warnings: Lying, angst, family issues.  Square Filled: The entire series (well, bits and pieces of it) will fill my Crossover square for @marvelfluffbingo​. A/N: This story contains a character who lost her hearing as she got older. I do work closely and regularly with the D/deaf community (I’m a sign language interpreter), but my own hearing problems do not involve significant hearing loss. It is not my intention to offend anyone, only to bring in a character with a quality I don’t see often in other fics. If you have questions about her, feel free to ask :) It’s been a minute, no? I’m trying to do better, I promise! I have some time the next few days, I am going to do my best to catch up to my posting schedule! Which means you may see double or even triple posts from me for a bit. I hope you all are doing well, I can’t wait to catch up on the things I’ve been tagged in! :)

Boston Boys Masterlist

“You know, it’s really stupid that we only ever meet in the parking lot or here in the cafeteria.”

Aurelie laughed and playfully punched her brother in the arm. From the time her mother had married Chris’s father, they had a strong sibling connection. Aurelie was young but was well aware that something was amiss with the Evans family business. Chris played dumb for a couple of years until Aurelie wasn’t buying it anymore. After she got through high school, she went away for college and medical school. When she got the job at MassGen and returned to Boston, they decided together that it was best for her to not associate with the family much if at all. She could live her life in peace, help the crime guys and gals that came through the emergency room, and no one would be any the wiser.

“Spaghetti night,” Aurelie said, clapping her hands before moving her tray down the line. “You picked a good night to meet up.”

Chris nodded. “Yeah, I’m not eating though. Ate already.”

That was a lie, something Chris didn’t do with Aurelie very often. He wasn’t ready to tell her about the date he had with Elsa later that night. Aurelie was going to ask too many questions and before he knew it, he’d be spilling out all the dirty details.

“Suit yourself,” Aurelie shrugged.

Chris waited patiently while Aurelie went through the line, paid for her meal, then found a booth for them to sit in. He sat across from her, stealing a drink from her water bottle.

“Ass.”

He chuckled and put the lid back on the bottle. Now that they were isolated, he pulled an envelope from inside his jacket and slid it across the table. Aurelie rolled her eyes.

“Is this the only reason you wanted to meet up tonight?”

Chris snorted. “Stop. You’re my sister, Aurelie. I do the business Dad asks me to do, but I still check in time to time for myself, too. I care about what’s going on with you.”

“Not much, honestly.” Except I’m sort-of, kind-of, seeing your eternal enemy. “Got my implant re-mapped the other day, I’ve been working like crazy, as always. Pretty much all the same. You?”

Chris checked his watch. Aurelie had been late to meet him, as to be expected sometimes in the ER. He didn’t want to be late to meet Elsa though -- not a good show for a first date.

“Running the barber shop and all that entails, the usual.”

Aurelie slurped up a chunk of spaghetti noodles, washed it down with some water, and nodded. “Shanna’s birthday is coming up.”

Chris sighed. “Don’t do this to me. You bitch about Dad to me, don’t start with Shanna.”

“I’m not starting with Shanna,” Aurelie said, rolling her eyes, “Scar texted me the other day to remind me. I’m making conversation.”

“Sorry. Yes, Shanna’s birthday is coming up. We’re going to do a thing at me and Scotty’s place. If you wanna brave it.”

Aurelie wrinkled her nose. “Nah, I don’t wanna ruin her day. She still hasn’t forgiven me, I take it? I’m not bitching, I’m only asking.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Aurelie. But, for the thing she thinks you did, no, she hasn’t forgiven you.”

“Figured as much. Here, take some of this money from me, buy her something she really wants, or chip me in on whatever you guys get for her.”

Chris frowned and held up his hands for her to keep the envelope put away. “I’ll take it out of your next stash. Might be a while for that, though.”

“You’re cutting the shit?” Aurelie asked, hopeful.

“Trying to, for now. The last referral was a big one. We’re set for a while.”

“Until the philanthropist wants you to keep going.”

Chris reached out and put a hand on her arm. “No, I’m serious. This isn’t his call, it’s mine. I’m set up. I’m looking at places on my own, in a different neighborhood. Things are changing.”

Aurelie looked at him for almost a full minute, trying to figure out if he was serious. This wasn’t the first time her big brother had wanted to turn over a new leaf, but things never changed. Not really. She wanted, desperately, to believe him.

“Don’t tell me, Chris. Show me.”

Chris took a deep breath. “Fair’s fair, on that. Things are gonna change. You’ll see. You’re gonna be proud of me.”

Her expression softened. “I’ve always been proud of you, Bub. I just think -- some conversations I have had recently have me thinking about things, I guess. You can change if you want to. You just have to want it bad enough.”

She stopped there before she told him the person she had been speaking to was John, and that really, the two men weren’t so dissimilar. They both wanted different things, it had just taken Chris longer to come around.

“What made you want to change your mind?” Aurelie asked.

That took Chris by surprise. “Uh, you know, I don’t know. Woke up one day and something clicked, I guess.”

The same way that Chris hadn’t -- and still didn’t -- buy that Aurelie had randomly brought up John Krasinski, Aurelie didn’t buy that Chris had randomly decided to stop robbing banks. It was strange, this new dynamic, keeping things from each other.

Although neither of them were keen to fill the other in on the new developments in their life, they both knew that keeping secrets from each other was like pulling the pin on a grenade. It was all going to explode, sooner rather than later.

Elsa sat nervously in the passenger seat of Chris’s car. She was excited for her date, but since the bank robbery, nervousness was just a part of her life. She tried to put on a happy face and hide her anxious fidgeting.

“Going all the way to Attleboro for dinner, that’s a little more than just outside the city,” Elsa chuckled in an attempt to calm herself down.

Chris smiled. “I know it’s a ways out, but there’s this place my sister introduced me to that has excellent clam chowder.”

“What is it with you Bostononians and clam chowder?”

“It’s a staple,” he shrugged. “You don’t like it?”

Elsa shrugged, too. “It’s all right. I do like local places.”

Chris smiled again, and Elsa settled back against the seat. She told Chris about a local bagel shop back home that she always went to Saturday mornings, got the same thing every time. It was the one time a week she knew she would have alone time.

“New York gets so busy, but that little shop … it was like the one quiet place in the middle of all the chaos. I do miss it sometimes. More often than I’d like to admit.”

Chris pulled up to the diner and parked his SUV. “Maybe this will be your new quiet place -- our new quiet place.”

Ours. Elsa liked the sound of that.

They found a booth to sit in and slid onto the benches across from each other. Chris asked her more about her family, but Elsa talked more about the city and her friends.

“Do you not want to talk about your family?”

Elsa sighed. She was given a momentary reprieve when the waitress came to take their orders -- neither of them ordered the chowder -- but then Chris’s eyes were right back on her, waiting for her to answer the question.

“My dad and I are close. My siblings and I are close too, I guess. My mother and I -- close isn’t really the word I would use for it. I love her, of course, but she never wanted me to come to Boston. She has a very clear idea of what she thinks my life should be. Majoring in history and working in a bank isn’t it.”

Chris winced. “I’m guessing going on a date with a local guy who works at a barber shop isn’t it, either?”

“This isn’t about her,” Elsa assured, though she wasn’t one-hundred-percent convinced herself. “I wanted to be here with you. To go out with you, I mean.”

Chris reached across the table and took her hand. “That’s good to hear because I wanted to be here with you, too.”

She smiled, and Chris smiled back. The waitress brought their food out a few minutes later, but from that moment on, Elsa felt far less tense. Something about Chris soothed her nerves and made her feel safe -- and that was a feeling she could get used to having.

A rare, slow night in the ER allowed Aurelie to take off a few hours before she was scheduled to finish her shift. She wanted to sleep for a long time, but first, she wanted a pan of cinnamon rolls from the diner in Attleboro to get into when she woke up.

She breezed into the diner and sat at the counter, asking the waitress for a pan of cinnamon rolls to go. She gratefully accepted a cup of coffee while she waited, sipping at the hot liquid and looking around the diner, taking in the familiar scenery -- including the familiar face of her brother. He was with a blonde, so she just smirked to herself. Chris was on a date and hadn’t told her about it? Maybe, whoever this woman was, was the reason Chris had decided to get his life on track. Aurelie couldn’t complain about that. She would come and go for now, but she was certainly going to give him the third degree later on.

But, then, the woman looked up from her plate and glanced around, and Aurelie recognized her instantly. The laceration on her forehead was still healing, but Aurelie didn’t easily forget a patient like Elsa Chapman. She finished her coffee, accepted and paid for her cinnamon rolls, then took one more look over at Chris’s booth. He broke his gaze from Elsa and took a cursory glance over the place -- always keeping up that situational awareness. Something you had to do when your family was heavily involved in crime. Chris’s eyes met Aurelie’s and went wide.

Aurelie rolled her eyes and stormed for the parking lot. The dots were connecting very quickly -- almost as quickly as Aurelie was losing respect for her brother.

“Aurelie, wait!” Chris yelled after her.

But she didn’t want to talk right now. She set the pan on the passenger seat and went to climb into her car, but Chris grabbed her by the arm.

“Will you listen to me? My dumb ass has been trying to explain catching up to you, but you’re not facing me and you’re pissed off. Did you hear anything I said?” Chris asked through gritted teeth.

“I don’t give a shit what you said,” Aurelie returned. “Answer me honestly, Chris. Were you guys the ones who kidnapped her?”

Chris’s expression softened. “How do you know about that? I thought you were just mad that I was out with someone and didn’t tell you.”

“You really think I care about your dating life? Ha! She came to MassGen. I examined her, sat with her while the the plastic surgeon stitched her up. Whoever took her hostage did a real number on her.”

“Listen,” Chris said, trying to calm her down and even throwing out a sign or two where he remembered them. “Someone rang the alarm. Scar panicked, thought it was Elsa, so she grabbed her, roughed her up. She wanted to go after her and make sure she wasn’t snitching, make sure she didn’t see any of us, but you know that girl -- she’s trigger happy. So, I did it. We clicked, and I -- I asked her out.”

Aurelie snorted. “You’re so wrong, you know that? What are you gonna do when she finds out? Chris -- listen. I’m glad you found someone you like but this isn’t the way to do it.”

“I know that. I’m going to tell her, I am. I just -- I have to find the right moment.”

Aurelie nodded. “In the meantime, I guess you’d like me to play dumb if I cross paths with her again.”

“If you don’t mind …”

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath. “The things I do for you, big brother.”

Chris ruffled her hair; the magnet from her cochlear disconnected. Aurelie ducked away from his hand and fixed it. Before they could say much else, Elsa stuck her head out the door of the diner, recognition showing in her expression.

“Dr. Juneau? Is that you?”

“Yeah, hi. How are you feeling?”

“Good. You two … you two know each other?”

Chris nodded. “Aurelie is my sister.”

“Stepsister,” Aurelie corrected, something she only did to annoy him. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your date. It’s nice to see you again.”

“You too,” Elsa smiled. She pointed back towards the booth. “I’ll let you guys finish your, uh … conversation.”

“I’ll be right back in,” Chris called after her. He looked to Aurelie. “Thank you, for not snitching me out.”

Aurelie shrugged. “It’s one thing to fuck up your life, Chris, but I hope you really think about it before you fuck hers up.”

She kissed her brother’s cheek and got in her car. If she was ready to sleep before, the rush of emotion now had her ready to slip into a coma.

AlloftheThings: @captain-s-rogers​​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​​@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​​ @hurricanerin​​@horsesandbandsforlife​​ @im-not-an-armrest-im-short​​ @captain-rogers-beard​​ @shynara51​​ @sea040561​​  @pinknerdpanda​​ @xtina2191​​ @jackryanplz​​ @beakami​​ @heartsaved​​@fullprunerebelstatesman​​ @blackwidowismyhomegirl​​

Boston Boys:  @the-murder-strut-murdered-me​​ @becs-bunker​​ @shield-agent78​​ @patzammit​​ @crazyandanonymous4u​​@ntlmundy​​​ @jennmurawski13​​​ @okay-maybe-i-like-marvel-too​​

[bedbellyandbeyond]

Date With The Dark

(Story Post)

“No, I understand… Yes, I don't want to get between you two in any way… I know I can be indirect with my feelings, but I do value your friendship and I want you to be happy.” Nari rubbed his neck and sighed. “I have to go. Date, you know?” “Okay… You're going to tell me about the Diederich stuff later, right?” “Yeah, maybe…” “Alright, I'll let you go.” “Bye.” “Bye.” Nari hung up and tapped his phone to his forehead. He was supposed to be on his way to his date but instead he was sitting at home, in his condo, on the floor, alone. He didn’t know what to do.

Min Ji had been a productive, lively, bustling young woman. Life was short and time needed to be used efficiently. But now that Nari had time to spare, moments like this were common and he could sit alone doing absolutely nothing, not even sleeping, for days on end. Sessions of nothing however weren't as meditative as he wished they could be. Instead, he often got filled with an overwhelming sense of dread, his body completely numb, his senses dull. His thirst ramped up during times like these but it wasn't until it was unbearable that he could pull himself out of it. His phone had been going off for a while now, though his sense of its frequency was lost. He ignored it all as well, the dread piling up. For a while it went quiet. Then be got a text or two again. He couldn't bring himself to answer. A door opened in his unit somewhere. It startled him a bit and he got off the floor to look around. Suddenly someone tapped his shoulder and he spun around, claws out, and pinned the home invader to the wall. “Whoa, calm down!” Diederich said raising his hands. “Diederich?!” Nari growled. “What are you doing?” “I was worried about you,” Diederich said. “You stood me up last night after I thought we were getting on really well… And, you weren't answering your phone. I asked around to see if anyone had seen you. I thought something bad might've happened to you. But I see I was wrrright? Are you okay?” The vampire had started sniffling and trying to hold back tears. He wiped his eyes with his free hand. “I'm sorry…” “Hey, it's okay…” Diederich put a hand on his cheek. “What happened? What's wrong?” “What's wrong is I love you,” Nari sobbed. Diederich's face went completely red and he stuttered for an answer. “M-Me?” “This is so stupid…” Nari grit his teeth. “I always fall for people way too fast… I don't have any emotional control. I need to feel loved. You make me feel loved.” “Well, um…” Diederich squirmed a bit. “I think I could do that better if you let go…” “Let go? Of us?” “No, no. Literally… Physically let go. I'm having a hard time breathing…” Nari hadn't realised he was still pinning the man, his claws in his chest, pressing him into the wall. He let go, and wiped off his fingers on his own shirt. “…I'm so sorry…” “No, I deserved that…” Diederich said, checking out the puncture wounds he'd suffered. “Forced entry into your home…” “How did you…?” “Magic.” “Right…” Nari wrapped his arms around his own waist and walked away. “Let me get you a bandage…” “It's fine, really…” Diederich insisted. “I don't want blood on my rug,” Nari said, going through the drawers in his bathroom. He returned with a roll of gauze and handed it to Diederich. “Fix yourself up.” “You're not going to do it?” “If I spent too much time with your blood, I might desire to hunt you…” Nari said, walking away again. “What if I want to be hunted?” Diederich said. Nari had already made to his room to change shirts however and didn’t hear. “What?” “I said!” Diederich felt stupid trying to repeat the joke but he tried again. “'What if I want to be hunted?'!” The vampire came back, crossing his arms. “You don't want that. Don't joke about that. I've gone…” He checked his phone. “Over 24 hrs without eating anything. I could kill you.” “Yeah, yeah…” Diederich took off his own shirt and started wrapping the gauze around his shoulder to cover the nail holes. “…So, um… If I make you feel loved… Then why are you avoiding me?” Nari blushed. “…I can't handle those feelings. I really can't. When I get this…passionate… I'm like a teenager. I imagine everything that I want with you. Everything. And I know I can't have it. And it breaks my heart.” “Why?” Diederich said. “Why can't you have it?” “Because…” Nari was tearing up again. “…Because I want a family…” “Oh. Well, it's not like we can't have a family,” Diederich said. “You know why we can't,” Nari said. “Well, what's stopping us from adopting a child?” Diederich asked. “Adoption?” Nari frowned. “How could that be the same?” “What do you mean? A child is a child. Does it matter who made it?” “I want to make it,” Nari said. “I want us to make it.” “Well, we're not getting you pregnant, and at the moment, I can't get pregnant, and even if I could, you can't get me pregnant, so I really think if we look at our collective abilities, the task would have to be outsourced.” Nari set his jaw. “I'm not…against people who adopt, but I don't know that I’ll feel the same.” “But you don't know that,” Diederich said. “What if I want our children to be immortal like us?” “I don't think you do, but for the sake of answering the question, they can study magic too,” Diederich explained. “If they’re worthy of it, they'll get it.” “You don't need to be born with it?” Nari asked. “This isn't Harry Potter. Some people might be born magic-sensitive, but you can study it. It's a skill, not an allele.” Nari crossed his arms. “…Well, I don't know…” “I get it. There's likely some amount of fulfillment you get from, you know, getting pregnant, giving birth, raising that child… But we have to work with what we have. And not to mention, I've only known you since August. We can work it out later.” “I knew Un-Young for two months before we were engaged,” Nari chose to bring up. “Uh, well it's the 2020s, not 1820s, hot stuff,” Diederich said. “I'm NOT that old!” “And we have a forever amount of time to figure things out. Or until this place explodes, which could be sooner than you think… Listen, I'm hearing you. But I also want you to think about your priorities. Is it the family and the children you want or just to be pregnant? Because We can do both but they won't be related to each other.” Nari frowned and grit his teeth. “I'm going to think about it…” Diederich smiled and caressed Nari's cheek. “…Everything will be alright.” Nari's expression softened as he looked up at the wizard but he didn't say anything. Diederich ran his thumb over Nari's lip. “I love you too.” Nari would've blushed if he wasn't so blood deprived. Instead his hunger grew. Diederich scrutinised his face. “...Don't tell me you've been sitting here all night and day.” “Why?” “Your eyes did the slitty thingy. You must be starved.” Diederich tilted his head. “You want to bite me, don't you.” Nari nodded slightly. “Why don't you?” “I don't want to hurt you.” “Would it kill me?” “No.” “Would it turn me?” Nari shook his head. “Then do it.” “No, I have some in—” “Do it.” Diederich gripped Nari's chin, stopping him from turning. “Diederich…” “I know you want to.” “…You're sure?” Diederich’s lips pressed themselves to Nari's and he held the kiss for a moment. Nari was the one to break it, grabbing hold of Diederich’s wrist and turning it outwards. He placed a kiss there then looked up at Diederich. The wizard blushed, expecting the vampire to go for his neck, and he gasped as he felt the canines break through. Nari only sipped a bit before pulling out and licking the wounds. Where he expected blood to trickle out, instead scabs formed immediately and then fell away to slightly scarred skin. He frowned and looked up at Diederich again. “Am I supposed to be impressed?” Diederich grinned. “You scared me a little. It was a reflex.” “You might be more of a monster than me.” “You're not a monster.” Nari wrapped his arms around Diederich's neck and ran a fang down his cheek. “Want to bet?” “Hmm…” Diederich took the opportunity to grab Nari from under his rear and pick him up. “Maybe in the bedroom.” “Last door down the hall.” “Thank you.”

[lullabieswrappedinlies]

Boston Boys [Part Six]

Summary:  Chris and Aurelie discuss family; Chris and Elsa have their first date.   Pairing: Chris Evans x OFC, John Krasinski x OFC Word Count: 2235 Chapter Warnings: Lying, angst, family issues. A/N: This story contains a character who lost her hearing as she got older. I do work closely and regularly with the D/deaf community (I’m a sign language interpreter), but my own hearing problems do not involve significant hearing loss. It is not my intention to offend anyone, only to bring in a character with a quality I don’t see often in other fics. If you have questions about her, feel free to ask :) It’s been a minute, no? I’m trying to do better, I promise! I have some time the next few days, I am going to do my best to catch up to my posting schedule! Which means you may see double or even triple posts from me for a bit. I hope you all are doing well, I can’t wait to catch up on the things I’ve been tagged in! :)

Boston Boys Masterlist

“You know, it’s really stupid that we only ever meet in the parking lot or here in the cafeteria.”

Aurelie laughed and playfully punched her brother in the arm. From the time her mother had married Chris’s father, they had a strong sibling connection. Aurelie was young but was well aware that something was amiss with the Evans family business. Chris played dumb for a couple of years until Aurelie wasn’t buying it anymore. After she got through high school, she went away for college and medical school. When she got the job at MassGen and returned to Boston, they decided together that it was best for her to not associate with the family much if at all. She could live her life in peace, help the crime guys and gals that came through the emergency room, and no one would be any the wiser.

“Spaghetti night,” Aurelie said, clapping her hands before moving her tray down the line. “You picked a good night to meet up.”

Chris nodded. “Yeah, I’m not eating though. Ate already.”

That was a lie, something Chris didn’t do with Aurelie very often. He wasn’t ready to tell her about the date he had with Elsa later that night. Aurelie was going to ask too many questions and before he knew it, he’d be spilling out all the dirty details.

“Suit yourself,” Aurelie shrugged.

Chris waited patiently while Aurelie went through the line, paid for her meal, then found a booth for them to sit in. He sat across from her, stealing a drink from her water bottle.

“Ass.”

He chuckled and put the lid back on the bottle. Now that they were isolated, he pulled an envelope from inside his jacket and slid it across the table. Aurelie rolled her eyes.

“Is this the only reason you wanted to meet up tonight?”

Chris snorted. “Stop. You’re my sister, Aurelie. I do the business Dad asks me to do, but I still check in time to time for myself, too. I care about what’s going on with you.”

“Not much, honestly.” Except I’m sort-of, kind-of, seeing your eternal enemy. “Got my implant re-mapped the other day, I’ve been working like crazy, as always. Pretty much all the same. You?”

Chris checked his watch. Aurelie had been late to meet him, as to be expected sometimes in the ER. He didn’t want to be late to meet Elsa though -- not a good show for a first date.

“Running the barber shop and all that entails, the usual.”

Aurelie slurped up a chunk of spaghetti noodles, washed it down with some water, and nodded. “Shanna’s birthday is coming up.”

Chris sighed. “Don’t do this to me. You bitch about Dad to me, don’t start with Shanna.”

“I’m not starting with Shanna,” Aurelie said, rolling her eyes, “Scar texted me the other day to remind me. I’m making conversation.”

“Sorry. Yes, Shanna’s birthday is coming up. We’re going to do a thing at me and Scotty’s place. If you wanna brave it.”

Aurelie wrinkled her nose. “Nah, I don’t wanna ruin her day. She still hasn’t forgiven me, I take it? I’m not bitching, I’m only asking.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Aurelie. But, for the thing she thinks you did, no, she hasn’t forgiven you.”

“Figured as much. Here, take some of this money from me, buy her something she really wants, or chip me in on whatever you guys get for her.”

Chris frowned and held up his hands for her to keep the envelope put away. “I’ll take it out of your next stash. Might be a while for that, though.”

“You’re cutting the shit?” Aurelie asked, hopeful.

“Trying to, for now. The last referral was a big one. We’re set for a while.”

“Until the philanthropist wants you to keep going.”

Chris reached out and put a hand on her arm. “No, I’m serious. This isn’t his call, it’s mine. I’m set up. I’m looking at places on my own, in a different neighborhood. Things are changing.”

Aurelie looked at him for almost a full minute, trying to figure out if he was serious. This wasn’t the first time her big brother had wanted to turn over a new leaf, but things never changed. Not really. She wanted, desperately, to believe him.

“Don’t tell me, Chris. Show me.”

Chris took a deep breath. “Fair’s fair, on that. Things are gonna change. You’ll see. You’re gonna be proud of me.”

Her expression softened. “I’ve always been proud of you, Bub. I just think -- some conversations I have had recently have me thinking about things, I guess. You can change if you want to. You just have to want it bad enough.”

She stopped there before she told him the person she had been speaking to was John, and that really, the two men weren’t so dissimilar. They both wanted different things, it had just taken Chris longer to come around.

“What made you want to change your mind?” Aurelie asked.

That took Chris by surprise. “Uh, you know, I don’t know. Woke up one day and something clicked, I guess.”

The same way that Chris hadn’t -- and still didn’t -- buy that Aurelie had randomly brought up John Krasinski, Aurelie didn’t buy that Chris had randomly decided to stop robbing banks. It was strange, this new dynamic, keeping things from each other.

Although neither of them were keen to fill the other in on the new developments in their life, they both knew that keeping secrets from each other was like pulling the pin on a grenade. It was all going to explode, sooner rather than later.

Elsa sat nervously in the passenger seat of Chris’s car. She was excited for her date, but since the bank robbery, nervousness was just a part of her life. She tried to put on a happy face and hide her anxious fidgeting.

“Going all the way to Attleboro for dinner, that’s a little more than just outside the city,” Elsa chuckled in an attempt to calm herself down.

Chris smiled. “I know it’s a ways out, but there’s this place my sister introduced me to that has excellent clam chowder.”

“What is it with you Bostononians and clam chowder?”

“It’s a staple,” he shrugged. “You don’t like it?”

Elsa shrugged, too. “It’s all right. I do like local places.”

Chris smiled again, and Elsa settled back against the seat. She told Chris about a local bagel shop back home that she always went to Saturday mornings, got the same thing every time. It was the one time a week she knew she would have alone time.

“New York gets so busy, but that little shop … it was like the one quiet place in the middle of all the chaos. I do miss it sometimes. More often than I’d like to admit.”

Chris pulled up to the diner and parked his SUV. “Maybe this will be your new quiet place -- our new quiet place.”

Ours. Elsa liked the sound of that.

They found a booth to sit in and slid onto the benches across from each other. Chris asked her more about her family, but Elsa talked more about the city and her friends.

“Do you not want to talk about your family?”

Elsa sighed. She was given a momentary reprieve when the waitress came to take their orders -- neither of them ordered the chowder -- but then Chris’s eyes were right back on her, waiting for her to answer the question.

“My dad and I are close. My siblings and I are close too, I guess. My mother and I -- close isn’t really the word I would use for it. I love her, of course, but she never wanted me to come to Boston. She has a very clear idea of what she thinks my life should be. Majoring in history and working in a bank isn’t it.”

Chris winced. “I’m guessing going on a date with a local guy who works at a barber shop isn’t it, either?”

“This isn’t about her,” Elsa assured, though she wasn’t one-hundred-percent convinced herself. “I wanted to be here with you. To go out with you, I mean.”

Chris reached across the table and took her hand. “That’s good to hear because I wanted to be here with you, too.”

She smiled, and Chris smiled back. The waitress brought their food out a few minutes later, but from that moment on, Elsa felt far less tense. Something about Chris soothed her nerves and made her feel safe -- and that was a feeling she could get used to having.

A rare, slow night in the ER allowed Aurelie to take off a few hours before she was scheduled to finish her shift. She wanted to sleep for a long time, but first, she wanted a pan of cinnamon rolls from the diner in Attleboro to get into when she woke up.

She breezed into the diner and sat at the counter, asking the waitress for a pan of cinnamon rolls to go. She gratefully accepted a cup of coffee while she waited, sipping at the hot liquid and looking around the diner, taking in the familiar scenery -- including the familiar face of her brother. He was with a blonde, so she just smirked to herself. Chris was on a date and hadn’t told her about it? Maybe, whoever this woman was, was the reason Chris had decided to get his life on track. Aurelie couldn’t complain about that. She would come and go for now, but she was certainly going to give him the third degree later on.

But, then, the woman looked up from her plate and glanced around, and Aurelie recognized her instantly. The laceration on her forehead was still healing, but Aurelie didn’t easily forget a patient like Elsa Chapman. She finished her coffee, accepted and paid for her cinnamon rolls, then took one more look over at Chris’s booth. He broke his gaze from Elsa and took a cursory glance over the place -- always keeping up that situational awareness. Something you had to do when your family was heavily involved in crime. Chris’s eyes met Aurelie’s and went wide.

Aurelie rolled her eyes and stormed for the parking lot. The dots were connecting very quickly -- almost as quickly as Aurelie was losing respect for her brother.

“Aurelie, wait!” Chris yelled after her.

But she didn’t want to talk right now. She set the pan on the passenger seat and went to climb into her car, but Chris grabbed her by the arm.

“Will you listen to me? My dumb ass has been trying to explain catching up to you, but you’re not facing me and you’re pissed off. Did you hear anything I said?” Chris asked through gritted teeth.

“I don’t give a shit what you said,” Aurelie returned. “Answer me honestly, Chris. Were you guys the ones who kidnapped her?”

Chris’s expression softened. “How do you know about that? I thought you were just mad that I was out with someone and didn’t tell you.”

“You really think I care about your dating life? Ha! She came to MassGen. I examined her, sat with her while the the plastic surgeon stitched her up. Whoever took her hostage did a real number on her.”

“Listen,” Chris said, trying to calm her down and even throwing out a sign or two where he remembered them. “Someone rang the alarm. Scar panicked, thought it was Elsa, so she grabbed her, roughed her up. She wanted to go after her and make sure she wasn’t snitching, make sure she didn’t see any of us, but you know that girl -- she’s trigger happy. So, I did it. We clicked, and I -- I asked her out.”

Aurelie snorted. “You’re so wrong, you know that? What are you gonna do when she finds out? Chris -- listen. I’m glad you found someone you like but this isn’t the way to do it.”

“I know that. I’m going to tell her, I am. I just -- I have to find the right moment.”

Aurelie nodded. “In the meantime, I guess you’d like me to play dumb if I cross paths with her again.”

“If you don’t mind …”

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath. “The things I do for you, big brother.”

Chris ruffled her hair; the magnet from her cochlear disconnected. Aurelie ducked away from his hand and fixed it. Before they could say much else, Elsa stuck her head out the door of the diner, recognition showing in her expression.

“Dr. Juneau? Is that you?”

“Yeah, hi. How are you feeling?”

“Good. You two … you two know each other?”

Chris nodded. “Aurelie is my sister.”

“Stepsister,” Aurelie corrected, something she only did to annoy him. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your date. It’s nice to see you again.”

“You too,” Elsa smiled. She pointed back towards the booth. “I’ll let you guys finish your, uh … conversation.”

“I’ll be right back in,” Chris called after her. He looked to Aurelie. “Thank you, for not snitching me out.”

Aurelie shrugged. “It’s one thing to fuck up your life, Chris, but I hope you really think about it before you fuck hers up.”

She kissed her brother’s cheek and got in her car. If she was ready to sleep before, the rush of emotion now had her ready to slip into a coma.

Tags: @themtbmbgirl​​​ @keithseabrook27​​​ @ulovemelightsout​​​ @rosie2801​​​ @professorkrasinski​​​ 

[myssamyss]

Sand, Swords, Scars, and Other Things I Won’t Tell My Cursed Wolf Therapist: Part 2

*Trigger warning for descriptions of violence and suggested child abuse*

Part 2: The Beach  

The next day, the heroes marched out of the woods and found themselves on a tropical beach.  

“Wait,” Time called out, raising an upright fist to signal stop.  

“Damn, not again,” Warriors muttered. “Where the hell are we now?”

The scent of mulch from the temperate forest had been replaced by briny air. Legend whipped his head back to the forest, the tail of his blue hat swinging. The trees had been mainly oak and maple just moments ago. Now there stood a jungle filled with palms and creeping vines. A weathered stone statue, covered in salt stains and vegetation, rose from the golden sand near the jungle’s entrance. Legend drew a sharp breath.  

“Guys, look, a sea!” Wind cried out joyfully. He crouched down and began untying his shoes.  

“Your sea?” Warriors asked. Wind shook his head.  

Unease sat in the pit of Legend’s stomach. “Does anybody have any idea where in Hylia’s name we’ve been dropped now?” he asked.  

“I think,” Wild began, “we might be near the Faron Sea?” He pulled out his Sheikah slate with a familiar chime.  

All faces turned to Wild. Twilight stepped to his side and gazed over his shoulder at the slate.  

Wild frowned. “Huh, maybe not. The map still isn’t working.” He glanced back at the crumbling statue. “But there’s statues like that all over the jungle back home, near Faron. I guess they’re really old, no one knows who created them.”

Legend gave a grim laugh. “Great. Mysterious statues in dangerous jungles that no one’s ever been to before. Sounds fun,” he said bitterly.  

“Well, it doesn’t seem like we’re in danger right now,” Hyrule replied. He glanced at Wind, who was gazing out to sea. “Maybe we could take a break, check out the water, and regroup?”

Wind nodded emphatically.  

Sky closed his eyes and smiled as a sea breeze blew through his hair. “Agreed,” he said.  

A few hundred meters to their left rose a sheer cliff face dotted with tropical vegetation. The cliff ran parallel to the shore, then jutted out toward the water sharply, creating a natural alcove. A thunderous waterfall careened down the alcove’s inner corner. The water kicked up mist in a small pool before flowing into the sea.  

Time gestured to the waterfall. “Seems like we’d have good cover if we make camp there,” he said. “We don’t know what monsters could be lurking in this jungle.”

The group of heroes nodded and started toward the waterfall.  

Memories flooded Legend’s mind. The last time he turned up on a mysterious seashore, things hadn’t exactly ended well, he thought to himself. He forced his mind to focus on the present by staring up at the approaching cliff.  

More ancient rock carvings rose into view as they grew closer. Heavy erosion had removed all clues of the statues’ original shape. When they reached the basin at the foot of the waterfall, Legend noticed that the entire cliffside was etched with swirling designs.  

Wind threw his belongings to the ground near the pool. “Race you guys to the water!” he yelled, sprinting for the waves. Gulls fled to the sky in his wake.  

Legend winced. Wild grinned, threw his slate and weapons down, and took off after Wind across the sand. Time smiled and began shedding his armor in a rare show of boyish excitement. The others followed suit.

Aw fine, what the hell, Legend grumbled to himself with a deep internal sigh. So what if he was losing his mind? He could sit here marinating with his terrible memories, or he could try enjoying the day.

Legend pulled off his cap and red tunic and made his way to the water with his friends.  

***

Hours later after they tired of swimming and lay out to dry on the sand, Warriors proposed a sword fight.  

“Sure, why not,” Legend replied. He needed another activity to keep his mind from the damned island flashbacks.  

Warriors eyed him suspiciously. Legend gave him a tight-lipped smile in return. At least his melancholy was keeping Warriors on his toes, he thought with cynical glee.

“Could we use branches instead of blades?” Four asked. He threw Wild a pleading look.

“Yeah, I got it, we won’t make more repair work for you,” Wild told him, standing up and kicking the sand from his legs. He ran off to retrieve some of the arm-length branches he inexplicably carried in his Sheikah slate.  

Several matches later, Warriors faced off against Twilight. Both men clutched a shield and a long tree branch. Legend, Wild, Wind, Sky, and Four watched intently.    

Warriors stalked a wide circle around the larger man, his feet shifting gingerly in the loose sand.  

He darted in for a swing.

Twilight dodged sideways and used the momentum to spin, winding up his branch. He came back around to deliver a crushing blow.  

Warriors lifted his shield and caught the swipe with a mighty CLANG.  

Twilight’s branch shattered into splinters.  

Warriors seamlessly thrust his branch beneath Twilight’s throat.  

Their audience exploded into cheers and laughter.  

“Not fair!” Twilight cried out with a laugh. He playfully batted Warrior’s branch away from his chin.  

“So, I guess you’re the new Wild now,” Legend teased him from the sidelines. “Who taught you how to fight?”

Wild whipped his head around. “Hey now,” he warned with a smile.  

Twilight nudged Wild affectionately and sat down beside them in the sand.

“An old friend taught me,” Twilight replied. “No fancy training like Mister Captain over there.”  

Warriors made a show of rolling his eyes as he joined the spectators. Four and Wind rose for the next match.

“How about you? Who taught you how to fight?” Twilight quipped.  

Legend’s mind flashed to his uncle and the fateful day he pulled Legend from a life of squalor and pain. The old knight knew the healing power of a sword in the hands of a scared young boy. Legend recalled the solace of a worn leather hilt clutched in his tiny palms as his uncle trained him each evening in their family’s ancient sword techniques. That is, until the night Legend found his uncle felled in a castle corridor, lying in a pool of his own blood. The night that Legend took up his uncle’s sword and killed nearly half the castle guard.  

“You know, I learned on the dangerous road of life,” Legend casually replied.

He turned his attention to the fight, where Wind twirled and threw strikes at Four. Sometimes he forgot that Wind was still a boy, just like Legend himself had been once.  

“Damn, look at the kid go,” Legend murmured.  

***

13 years before LU

Alfon nervously thumbed his black mustache as he led the scrawny boy into his home. By the gods, he hadn’t even known his brother had a kid. How long had this boy been living on the edge of the forest half-starved?

He shuddered to think of the rickety shack he found his nephew in. A mean-looking man with filthy hair and a flushed face had met him at the shack’s decaying door. Alfon rested his hand on the pommel of his sword. He hadn’t drawn it to fight in years, but he was happy to have it with him that afternoon. 

Thankfully, the disheveled man was only too happy to give the boy away. 

“The brat’s mother hasn’t been home in over a week. Probably dead in a ditch if you ask me. Go ahead, take him, the bastard isn’t mine,” the mean-faced man said with disinterest. 

His tiny nephew was curled up in the corner like an unwanted dog. His wide eyes shone with bright hope when he caught sight of Alfon. 

And now here Alfon was, bringing the child back to his own house. 

“It’s not much, but this is my place. Yours now too,” Alfon told him as they crossed the threshold. The boy’s eyes were big as saucers. 

“Thank you, sir,” he said quietly. 

“You don’t have to call me sir. We’re family. But I’ll have to call you something. What do you go by?” Alfon asked him. 

The boy looked down at his worn shoes. “Link,” he whispered. 

A tragic name for a tragic boy, Alfon thought to himself. 

“Well, Link, come sit down, I’ll make us some dinner,” he told him. 

His bachelor life hadn’t lent him many cooking skills, but Alfon had seen skeletons thicker than his nephew. He was determined to cook something for the boy to eat. He scrounged together some rice and set it to boiling. 

After half an hour of cooking, Alfon realized that the boy hadn’t made a single noise. He glanced over. Link sat at the wooden table with his arms at his side and his head staring down, the picture of perfect behavior. 

But that was wrong, wasn’t it, Alfon thought darkly. He didn’t have much experience, but shouldn’t kids his age be running and vaulting and yelling? Link was too well behaved. When Alfon looked closer, he noticed the boy was shaking. 

“Say Link, will you help me get some dishes?” he asked, breaking the silence. “They’re in the cupboard over by that wall.” Alfon gestured across the room. 

Link gazed up at him, nodded pathetically, and jumped up from his chair. As he walked away, Alfon noticed a wicked scar cutting across the back of the boy’s scalp. It wasn’t the sort of scar a kid would get from adventuring: skinned knees, bumped foreheads, scraped palms. It was the kind of scar he recognized from his days as a knight. A blow to the back of the head while one’s back is turned. Maybe even when one is running away. 

A deep anger simmered inside of Alfon. Maybe he should have drawn his sword against the mean-looking man.  

The two sat down for dinner. Link ate methodically despite his gaunt appearance. He kept glancing at Alfon when he thought the old knight wasn’t looking. 

When their meal was finished, the boy finally spoke again. 

“Are you my father?” he asked in a small, pleading voice. 

Alfon took a deep breath. “No. I’m not. I’m his brother. Your father, he was lost years ago,” he told the boy softly. 

Link nodded, his tiny chin bobbing up and down in acceptance. His eyes were hard like a sea before storms. 

“And my mother?” the boy asked with unnerving calm. 

Alfon’s mustache bristled. “She’s passed on, lad,” he admitted. 

“Good.” 

The boy’s word hung foully in the air. Alfon tried to hide his surprise.  

He glanced around the room, and his eyes fell on his sheathed blade near the door.  

“Say, Link,” he broke the strained silence, “have you ever held a sword?”

A week later, Alfon watched from the window as his tiny nephew swung at the dummy he had constructed from hay. The boy rained down blow after blow. His new blue cap waved behind him like a triumphant flag.

“Damn kid!” Alfon called out to him. “Look at you go!”

[thecomicsnexus]

GREEN ARROW #1-10 APRIL 2001 - JANUARY 2002 BY KEVIN SMITH, PHIL HESTER, ANDE PARKS AND GUY MAJOR

SYNOPSIS (FROM DC DATABASE)

Flashback to several months ago: Superman and Batman are standing on a Metropolis city rooftop during The Final Night event. As the two talk about the fact that Earth's sun has been extinguished, Superman feels as if something had been removed from him. Miles away in Seattle, Parallax stands over the grave of his best friend Oliver Queen. It is clear that Parallax's involvement will be integral to events that are to come.

The present: Many of the heroes whose lives had been affected by the first Green Arrow carry on with their regular activities. Connor Hawke continues praying for the soul of his father at the ashram. Arsenal takes down a room full of heroin dealers and Black Canary rescues the battered wife of a Russian mobster.

In Star City, an old man named Stanley Dover is walking down the street when a group of thugs attempt to accost him. A homemade arrow with a bleach bottle arrow tip strikes one down while another with a 40 oz. beer bottle affixed to the shaft takes another down. As Stanley turns to see whom his rescuer is, we find Oliver Queen, apparently back from the dead, dressed in tattered rags with long hair and a makeshift bow.

Star City councilman Freddy Dreyfus has a street pimp named Richard send a fifteen-year-old prostitute named Mia Dearden to his house for an evening of fun. Dreyfus proves to be creepy and abusive with the intent of hurting Mia save for the appearance of Green Arrow. Green Arrow beats up all of Dreyfus' goons and rescues Mia. He also exposes the fact that Dreyfus has been dipping into the local drug trade. Mia returns to her pimp. Richard has learned about what has happened and decides that he must kill Mia before Green Arrow comes gunning for him. But Mia evades Richard's attack and slices a tendon in his hand.

Later we find that Ollie has moved in with Stanley Dover, an elderly man he recently rescued from some street thugs. Stanley is independently wealthy and has elected to become Ollie's financial benefactor as he resumes his career as Green Arrow.

In Gotham City, Batman monitors reports of the Dreyfus incident. Analyzing the data, he begins to suspect that Oliver Queen may still be alive.

Back in Star City, a serial child killer known as the Star City Slayer begins feeding a vial of blood to a creature that lies contained within a subterranean glass cage.

Green Arrow breaks into the office of Star City comptroller, Harold Leeds. He demands to know why Leeds authorized the closure of the Star City Youth Center. Leeds tells him that it was closed in order to safeguard orphans from the recent Star Slayer murders. Ollie demands to talk to Commissioner Elmer Durgin. Leeds tells Ollie that Durgin died years ago. Ollie now begins to realize that not everything in Star City is exactly how he remembers it.

Later, Stanley Dover buys the Star City Youth Center. One of the first new employees is former prostitute Mia Dearden. Mia tells Ollie that she knows he is Green Arrow. She asks Ollie for a place to stay and he agrees to let her stay on with Stanley and he. Later, Stanley explains to Mia that Ollie is 'missing time'. He acts as if the last ten years of his life never even happened. He has no knowledge of his own death. To help Ollie's emotional state, Stanley has refitted his home with outdated appliances and conveniences.

While the two enjoy dinner together, Green Arrow hits the streets. He busts up a crime ring over near the riverside docks. Suddenly, Black Manta and his submersible ship rises out of the river. Trailing directly behind him is Manta's arch-foe, Aquaman.

Aquaman and Green Arrow are preparing to face off with Black Manta on the docks of Star City. Ollie tackles Manta, but Manta repels him with a haymaker. Arthur leaps on Manta's back prepared to kill him. But Ollie gets back up and sinks an arrow into Manta's helmet. Arthur removes the helmet revealing a very disfigured looking Black Manta. As the criminal is taken away, Arthur and Ollie finally get the chance to reunite with one another. Ollie doesn't understand the radical changes in Arthur's appearance.

Excited about Ollie's return, he brings him back to the JLA watchtower. Everyone is so surprised to see him, but quickly notice that he appears to be about ten years younger, and has no knowledge of things that have happened recently (Ollie can't understand why Hal Jordan isn't there to greet him). Batman arrives and punches the irate Ollie, knocking him out. He tells the League that he is taking him back to the Batcave for intense examination. Everyone is interested to learn how Ollie has returned from the dead. A little later, Oracle breaks the news to Black Canary.

Jason Blood is leaving Gotham City for Star City. But he changes his flight plans at the last minute as a premonition indicates to him that the Star City flight will explode in mid-air. Meanwhile in the Batcave, Batman gives Oliver Queen a full physical examination while Spoiler observes his techniques. Batman notices that Ollie does not suffer any of the scars or burns that Batman knows Ollie should have. This observation casts Ollie's entire identity into question. Ollie wakes up and decks Batman. After picking himself up, Batman explains that Ollie may not actually be the true Oliver Queen. He decides to help him with Ollie's failing memory. Batman tells Ollie everything that happened during the Zero Hour and The Final Night incidents.

Batman takes Ollie to the remains of Queen manor in the hopes that it may jog Ollie's memory. But before they take two steps onto the estate, Etrigan the Demon appears and attacks them.

Meanwhile, Black Canary and Arsenal arrive in Star City to search for Ollie. Instead, what they find is Mia Dearden practicing archery on the roof of Stanley Dover's home.

Batman and Green Arrow begin fighting against the Demon. As the Demon blasts them with Hellfire, he makes reference to the fact that Oliver Queen is a "quiver". Ollie shoots a fire extinguisher arrow into the Demon's mouth, which causes him to fall over. Batman convinces Etrigan to revert to his true form, Jason Blood. Blood elaborates on Etrigan's cryptic comment. Green Arrow is what is known in occult circles as a "hollow", which means he is a body bereft of a soul.

Arsenal and Black Canary arrive, and Ollie and Dinah are reunited for the first since long before he had even died. They hop in the Titans jet and head back towards Star City. They go to one of Jason Blood's safe houses where Blood has Ollie stand in the middle of a pentagram while the others wait outside. He tells Ollie that a soulless body is too tempting for a demon that might wish to possess him. The only alternative is to kill Green Arrow. Blood turns into Etrigan and roasts Green Arrow with a blast of Hellfire. As Batman and the others burst into the room, they find nothing but a pile of ash.

Right before the Demon is ready to turn Green Arrow into a pile of ash, the Spectre intervenes and teleports him out of Jason Blood's pentagram. Ollie now sees that Hal Jordan is the Spectre. Hal explains how he cloned Ollie from leftover DNA found on Superman's cape during the The Final Night incident. He pledges to take Ollie to someone who can help explain the loss of memory that Ollie has been suffering from. The Spectre takes Green Arrow to the gates of Heaven and blusters past the gates' guardian, the Phantom Stranger. Beyond the gates of Paradise are the souls of various individuals who have died including, the Flash, Robin (Jason Todd), Abraham Lincoln and Martin Luther King, Jr. But none of these are the ones that Ollie is to meet. The Spectre takes Ollie across a field to meet the soul of the man who can best explain Ollie's situation to him – Oliver Queen himself!

Batman, Black Canary and Arsenal attack the Demon en masse for they believe he is responsible for the death of Green Arrow. But Deadman arrives and takes possession of Etrigan's body, forcing him to change back into Jason Blood. He informs the group that Ollie is alive and well and taking a tour of Heaven.

In Heaven, Ollie is speaking to his older spirit self. The older Ollie explains that he had Hal recreate him with memories leading up to the best years of his life – the time that Ollie and Hal spent on the road. He goes on to say how his life for the past few years had been a shambles and he didn't want that aspect of his personality back on Earth – hence the ten year gap in Ollie's memory.

Before soulless Ollie can get anymore answers, he finds himself booted out of Heaven and sent back to Stanley Dover's house. He tells Stanley that he is a hollow and that he has no soul. Stanley Dover then clubs him over the back of the head and brings him down into the basement. It is now revealed that Stanley Dover is the Star City Slayer! He gestures towards a glass enclosed pit containing a young blond-haired boy dressed up in a mock costume of a hairy purple monster.

Meanwhile, back at the Ashram, Connor Hawke, Oliver Queen's, son has a vision in which he knows his father is alive and in danger.

Batman, Arsenal, Black Canary and Jason Blood fly the Titans T-Jet back towards Gotham City. Arsenal mentions that Ollie has been staying with an old man named Stanley Dover. Jason Blood recognizes the name and frantically tells them to turn the jet around and go back towards Star City.

In Star City, Stanley Dover has Ollie and Mia tied down to altars in his basement. He is the Star City Slayer and has been keeping his own grandson (Stanley) trapped in his basement in a plan to gain eternal life. Stanley Sr. explains that in the 1950s, his wife and he had joined a Satanic cult. But while his wife did so only for the orgies, Stanley became a serious student of the occult. Years later, he found a tome called the Magdalene Grimoire which told of a Beast With No Name, a low-level demon that Stanley felt he could summon and control. As he grew older, he had children and ultimately a grandchild also named Stanley. Stanley Sr. would bring the infant Stanley to his demonic invocations in an effort to summon and bind the demon to Earth, but with no avail. What he never realized was, was that the Monster did appear on Earth, but was bonded to the younger Stanley, not the older one. It was only a year ago, that Dover learned that his grandson had bonded with the Monster and so he abducted him and began committing horrible child murders in the hopes of luring the Monster out of hiding. Recently, he recognized that Oliver Queen was a man without a soul and now seeks to enact a ritual that will place his soul into the body of Oliver Queen. From there, he will be able to commit more time and effort towards finding a way to control the Monster.

Ollie tells Stanley that his friends will arrive soon to rescue them. But Stanley informs him that a Blood Seal has been placed on the premises. Only someone who is biologically related to either Ollie, Mia or himself can enter. As luck would have it, Connor Hawke (having received a convenient vision of his father's resurrection) has arrived at the Dover estate along with Eddie Fyers.

Stanley is ready to sacrifice Ollie and take command of his body when an arrow comes from above and pierces Stanley's hand. Connor, being Ollie's biological son can pierce the Blood Seal keeping everyone outside of Stanley's house. In response, Stanley summons a horde of monsters to stop Connor. Ollie doesn't have the strength to break free on his own – so he mentally beckons with his soul in heaven to re-enter his body. Ollie's soul though reluctant, recognizes that Connor will die if he doesn't intervene. He rejoins with Queen's body back on Earth and Green Arrow now has his complete memories. He breaks free and takes Stanley down with a classic boxing glove arrow.

Connor calls for a nuclear strike from the JLA Watchtower but the strike is aborted thanks to the efforts of a new player in the arena. Ollie and Connor look around in shock as all of the demons suddenly disappear – all but one; Spot, young Stanley's demonic childhood Monster friend. Spot had sent the demons back to Hell and now reunites with little Stanley. He sends him outside pledging to wipe his mind of all memory associated with his captivity. He then grabs older Stanley and eats him. The Monster informs Ollie that Stanley left his entire estate to him as he had intended on subverting Ollie's identity anyway. With that, the Monster turns and leaves. Green Arrow is back for good!

REVIEW

I feel like this may have been one of the earliest signs of chaos for DC. Most the “dead” characters in this story would eventually come back to life in just a few years (Barry a bit longer). There was this need to go back to basics. This may have helped in sales, but I don’t think the quality was always there with these “rebirths”.

In any case, Quiver is a very popular story but it’s a bit hard to explain to people not familiarized with Zero Hour, Final Night, Connor Hawke and Judgment Day.

My main concern with resurrections is “was it worth it?”. I found Connor Hawke to be a very different Green Arrow and he added diversity to whatever team he joined. The main issue with his diversity is how often artists forgot about it and just made him look like Oliver (like in this story).

The story is fun to read (sometimes too much fan service in it), and brings a very unique Green Arrow, younger and less troubled (not sure if this changes after the last episode), I think it works. And father and son finally meeting is a plus. It’s also a very long story but has defined “episodes”. It could have lasted less than ten episodes, but I think the pacing is right, mostly to assimilate all the things that happened (in ten months you will accept all these things).

Phil Hester is not my favorite artist, this art team sometimes do a nice job, but other times looks a bit messy. I don’t think it looks bad, but I don’t know, it doesn’t look like the perfect fit for this story. I imagine that the reason they went for this team is to move away from the grim and gritty Green Arrow we were used to.

I give this story a score of 7.

[fullmetalscullyy]

chapter 11

this has been up on ao3 for a few days but i think ppl still only read this on here so here u go 💖

read on ao3

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

“What are you thinking about?”

Roy’s hand felt heavenly as it caressed the bare skin of her upper arm. She shivered in response but didn’t uncurl herself from her arm’s tight hold. Hugging her knees close as she lay on the mattress, she tried to rid herself of even more uncertainty and anxiety that had piled upon her since Mrs Henderson showed her true colours. In this bed with Roy, in this room, she was safe. It was her haven. There was no space for her worries here, and yet, they continued to plague her.

Bringing Roy into her bed was more than welcome. It was stupid. It was careless. However, in a moment of weakness, she wanted to be young and naïve once more. Too much had happened in the last few hours for her not to accept the care and comfort he’d never failed to show her.

“Everything,” Riza admitted.

“Anything I can do to help?” he offered.

Riza shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know,” she whispered.

“That’s okay,” he replied kindly. A kiss was pressed to her bare shoulder. “Just let me know when you do.”

Her eyes fluttered closed. The idea he’d proposed of running away together toyed with temptation in the forefront of her mind. It would save her heartache. It would save her the stress and betrayal she was experiencing now. However, Riza wasn’t one to run away from her problems, no matter how much they overwhelmed her. Anyway, if she did agree, they would be hunted down wherever they went. No, wherever she went. Roy would be guilty by association.

Her head shifted, angling it so she could speak easier. Once she opened her mouth to speak, her speech caught in her throat. Roy’s hand moved lazily to her back. He drew patterns against it lightly with the backs of his knuckles. His touch was gentle and caring.

She was frozen ion place.

His fingers danced over her back. Unafraid. Undeterred.

He knew about the scars there. He was the only one living who did.

They were the result of a hit gone wrong in her younger years. Someone from the Bradley Family had tried to burn down their house. Roy had sneaked into her bedroom one night. The two were quietly playing together when a Molotov cocktail exploded in the middle of her old bedroom. Glass shattered everywhere, cutting into the skin of her back, slicing through her t-shirt, as fire caught on eagerly to anything that burned. Roy had hugged her close – he had matching marks on the backs of his hands, but they’d faded more than hers, Riza had noticed. He’d dragged her from the room as she bled and cried. Her mother had bundled her into her arms tightly, carrying her into her parent’s bedroom while Roy held her hand tightly.

A few months after that resulted in her mother’s death, and she never saw Roy for a long time after that.

“I was just thinking…” Riza ventured.

“Yes?”

“When my mother died…” She had to pause to swallow the lump in her throat. “And they kept us apart, did your mother ever threaten my life?”

“Not her,” he shook his head. “In fact, I don’t really remember what she said about it. I remember her being incredibly quiet as the news dropped. It was unnerving. But it was one of her Lieutenants that threatened me while I was alone. I was young and scared, so did it just in case, but I had always hated him.”

Riza curled further in on herself. “I thought that might have happened.”

“Not that it kept me far.”

“That was horrible,” she admitted. “Going from seeing you every day to not seeing you for years.”

“I know,” he murmured. “Not much could ever keep me away from you, though.”

“I thought you had to be the objective party?” she teased lightly, calling back to their conversation while he was interviewing her about her father. It felt like a lifetime ago.

“Recently, I decided I didn’t want to anymore,” he replied. His hand ran from her shoulder, down to her elbow. Then, it slowly made its way back up, his fingers tickling her skin. “Not if it meant expelling you from my life.”

She should have been jumping for joy, but her future was still uncertain, especially now her mentor was out of her life. “You should want to stay away,” Riza whispered. “It’s for you own good.”

“My own good is being by your side.”

“Why?” She was both curious why he was so stubborn and why he seemed to think this was the best course of action.

“Because when I’m not, I worry about you constantly. Always have. I don’t intend to insinuate that you need protecting,” he shook his head. “You’re more than capable. However, I do love you, and I worry about you regardless. I want you to be happy, and I want to ease your struggles.” Another kiss was placed against her bare shoulder as his lips travelled up to her neck. “I want to help make you happy, Riza. I would marry you today, if I could, and if you wanted to.”

She froze.

A kiss was pressed to the skin underneath her ear and Riza shivered. “All I’ve ever wanted was to be a part of your life. And damn all those who have kept us apart.”

Riza loosed the grip on her knees and rolled over slowly. She almost gasped at the love and care she witnessed with his eyes.

“You’d be tangling yourself up with this life again, though,” she breathed.

“I don’t care.” A kiss was pressed to her cheek.

“I dragged you back into this,” Riza sniffed. Even as she faced him, her shoulders rounded and Riza curled in on herself further. “I promised myself I wouldn’t.”

“I was already back in it,” Roy replied gently. He’d pushed himself up onto an elbow, looking down at her face. A hand came to rest upon her cheek gently. His thumb stroked the skin of her face.

She shook her head. “You weren’t –” she whispered.

“I was. I was fired.”

She paused. “What?” she asked, glancing up at him.

“Hakuro, my CO, works for the Bradleys. Apparently, I was deemed “unfit for work”.” Roy snorted. “They fired me the day I came to see you.”

“Why?” Riza asked, outraged. She pushed herself to a sitting position.

“Because I wouldn’t let the Bradleys buy me? Because I’m a Mustang? Because I was trying to help you?” That last part made Riza swallow thickly. “It could be any of the three, or all of them combined,” he shrugged.

“That’s not fair on you,” she frowned.

“Like I said, I don’t care. Not if that’s their attitude. I tried my best and got paid in dirt. I’ve got bigger things to worry about right now than fighting a losing battle of injustice. That can come later. You need me first.” His eyes were determined and unafraid. Riza could only wish she could drum up the same sentiment as him.

It felt like life was pulling her in two different directions. Keep Roy safe and keep him away, or embrace the love, comfort, and support he offered her unconditionally. She was stuck completely, unsure what to do. Apparently, it showed on her face.

“What do you want, Riza?” Roy asked suddenly. It broke her from her thoughts. His hand gripped hers tightly in the space between their bodies.

“What?”

“What do you want to do?” he asked simply. “I get the feeling duty has won out more than once,” he added. “But you deserve to be in control of your own life.”

“I want you to be safe,” she whispered.

“We can do that. Together.” His tone was determined. That familiar, confident smirk on his face. It jolted Riza back to their childhood when that look wasn’t far from his face as he tried to show off for her. “We can watch each other’s backs.”

“But what if I’m not good enough?” It was a fear she’d always held within her heart. Not that she didn’t think she was capable, but because she feared he would be used against her through methods beyond her control.

“There’s no one I trust more in life than you.”

“No,” she shook her head. “What if you get used against me? Because of who I am?”

“I’ve been used against my mother countless times. It’s a risk of carrying this name. But what if…” Roy trailed off and it caused Riza to glance at him, to see what he was thinking.

“What?”

“What if we combined both families?”

“How?” Her brow furrowed, trying to determine what he meant.

“What if we got married?”

Time seemed to stand still completely. Riza couldn’t move or breathe. Her heart screamed this was what she wanted but her mind held her back.

“I – I don’t know,” she stammered.

“Okay…” Roy trailed off and she cringed, thinking she’d offended him. She didn’t want him to withdraw his offer no matter how loud the voice in her head protested it. “Well, let’s start with something simpler. What do you want, Riza?” he asked. “What do you want to do? Where do you want to go?” His question was soft. The corner of his eyes crinkled as he smiled at her. His love poured out of his eyes, shrouding her in a warm blanket that made her the happiest she’d felt in a long time.

In that moment, Riza knew her answer.

“Anywhere you are,” was her quiet, truthful reply.