#moon fell off the wire and has been laying there since.

[witherfide]

uh.. moon..

[the-traveling-poet]

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝟣 ~ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑅.𝒪.𝒮.𝐸.

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: A day before Prologue. An introduction, of sorts, for how the R.O.S.E. squad and its members operate and what their runs consists of. Though, this particular run, things go south for the select few burdened with such a task. Two months have passed since the thinning in their numbers, yet where they were once more, stationed outside the walls with wagons full of bodies drawn behind them on horseback. Through the grief and fear, something in the air has changed, and once again Pyxis’s squad faces the horror of titan’s strength.

𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉: Description of gore

𝐸𝓃𝒿𝑜𝓎~

More Chapters~

Dodge left. Dodge right. Duck your head, then twist forward.

Leaping up, the woman swiftly tucked in on herself and easily flew through the tangle of rough tree branches attempting to block her path. All was near silent in the gloomy forrest, causing every movement she made to bounce and echo off every nearby tree and every hill. If she dared to stop to catch her breath, she would hear nothing more than the buzz of insects inhabiting the forrest floor below and the gentle blow of the breeze sifting through the leaves of every tree around her for miles.

As it were now, rushing along high above the forrest floor, all she could truly hear was the mechanical whirls of her gear as she shot anchor after anchor into thick stems of bark, and the containers strapped to her back puffing out air to propel her forward with more momentum than she could produce from gravity alone.

It was liberating, in a way; flying so quickly through the open air as thought weightlessly, seeing the world below as though through the gaze of a young hawk above compared to the world seen seen through the eyes of a man on foot.

Had the constant reminder of the job at hand not plauged her every thought, she would have enjoyed these triweekly missions beyond the walls. But as she looked down far below her dangling feet and met the lifeless eyes of Survey Corps soldiers laying in bloody and mangled heaps, any semblance of joy faded from her eyes in an instant.

"Circle back; gather the wagons and take Bax with you." Aveline's order carried over her shoulder with the breeze, quiet so as to keep all emotion from her raspier tone.

Her comrade stiffly nodded, his widened gaze stuck on the corpses below in silent repulsion.

"Yes ma'am, Captain Aveline," the young boy replied with an attempt at a grin, crooked as it was; trying desperately to lighten the mood as he so often attempted on missions such as these.

Aveline glanced over her shoulder to toss him a sympathetic smile, knowing all too well the tell-tale signs from her cadet that told her he was particularly nervous.

"Thanks, Dione." She nodded, returning her gaze to the front.

Normally, she would be down there with the others; her squad. But ever since the incident two months back, she's resigned to patrolling their borders to keep her companions and herself safe from threats.

Briefly, Aveline came to a stop high up in the nearest pine to watch her young cadet zip away into the darkness, only the light of the moon illuminating the metal gears strapped with leather around his limbs to show her where he was. Had it not been for the subtle glow of the full moon above, she never would have known which way Dione had disappeared. Once he was out of her sight, Aveline turned her attention back to her surroundings.

On her way to this perch, she'd seen nearly thirty soldiers lying stone cold upon the unforgiving ground, remnants of the Survey Corp's latest expedition. Whispering a silent apology towards where they all lay, the Garrison Captain shot her wires into the tree behind her and began her decent to the forrest floor.

The moment her feet touched the ground, she fell into a crouch and retracted her cables. No threats occupied her nearby surroundings, making her relax only slightly.

As the distant sound of wooden wheels thumbing against rough terrain echoes louder against the hills, Aveline allowed her self a breath of relief.

So far, so good.

As her team rounded the corner and came into her vision, Aveline sheathed her blades and stood to the side of the worn path at her feet. Immediately she caught sight of young Dione Richthofen, followed closely by her second in command, Baxten Brooks. The torch the brawny man held above the heads of his comrades illuminated the face of Lyra Malik, only a few paces behind him. She was Aveline's youngest Cadet of the bunch, younger even than Dion.

The poor girl looked pale, paler than usual as her eyes shifted rapidly across every shadow the forrest provided, as she gripped the reins of her horse. For the hundredth time now the thought crossed Aveline's mind that such a young soldier deserves better than to be put in such a position as this; locating and retrieving the mangled corpses of fallen comrades.

Some of which, they might have known once. Through gashes and tears, it was hard to tell them all apart at times.

Glancing down at the body nearest her position, Aveline cringed at the thought of potentially having known this young man during her three years in boot camp. Could he be the boy she once sat by in the cramped mess hall, keeping company against the anxiety of his choice to join the Scouts?

Or perhaps the boy who had inspired the young Captain herself by swearing on his life to find freedom for his family beyond the walls, preaching to his fellow young recruits how they must fight?

In the state of the man's body now, Aveline knew she'd never know. And that's what made her job gut wrenching, on a good day.

On a bad day, she would recognize the frozen screams of terror etched onto the pale faces of soldiers she personally lifted up into her squad's wagon, only to stand before their families with what remained a day later.

The wails of a parent losing their child for a second time was a sound Aveline wished she could erase from her mind, but the image was already deeply etched into her mind, corrupting any chance she took at attempting to sleep.

Thankfully, Aveline's attention was drawn away from her thoughts as Norbert Digs, her squad's supplier, called out in frustration.

"Richthofen, slow down! You're gonna make our work harder than it needs to be!" Norbert cursed, trying his best to keep his tone even and low as he brought his steed to a stop and adjusted his cape better around his thin build.

"How? I mean...it's not like they're going anywhere," Dione slowed his steed to a stop, staring inquisitively at his comrade.

Baxten stopped just shy of being at Dione's side, smacking a hand onto the younger man's half shaven head. He didn't have to reach too high either as, despite also being on horseback, he towered over everyone present.

"You dumbass, show some respect!" He hissed, earning a squeak of surprise from the confused boy.

"If you continue to speed ahead like this, you could further trample the bodies we have to recover," Baxten continued on; his tone lighting significantly as he caught sight of the disapproving look Aveline shot his way.

Dione's wide brown eyes seemed to shine with understanding as he looked up to Baxten. The man only sighed, masking the slight humor he found in this twisted situation, and ruffled the boy's short swarthy locks before trotting ahead.

Dione fixed his hair hastily with a distressed grunt before following suit. Sighing in exasperation, the Captain turned and scanned the half-clearing surrounding them.

"On the way here along our path, I spotted nearly thirty bodies. We'll grab them, salvage when we can, and pick up any more on our route back to the walls. We've got an hour and a half to get back before daybreak." She spoke lowly, darkened eyes only adding to the shadows crossing over her face against the moon.

Her cadets were quick to salute, a quick shout of understanding leaving them simultaneously as they adjusted their reins and took off back along the path she's scouted. They hadn't gotten far before Aveline spoke out.

"Richthofen, stay near Malik!"

Dione turned over his shoulder and grinned, riding closer to Lyra.

"Aye aye, Cap'n."

The younger girl sighed under her breath at the positive grin Dione threw her way, but said nothing in response to this order as she tucked her thin dark hair behind a pale ear and trotted on.

After one last check of her squad, Aveline changed course to scout further ahead. For yards, she found no more bodies; a sight for sore eyes, she always said.

But still, she searched in any area a body might land. How could she leave any behind, dead or alive?

Finding no further sign of decomposition after several minuets passed, she ran a hand through her hair in relief. Perhaps not as many had fallen this last expedition?

Just as she was about to turn back to aid her squad with the bodies, a deep groan reverberated off the trees. Stopping dead in her tracks, Aveline immediately fell into a crouch and gripped the handles of her blades.

Just behind her, a gust of air ruffled through her hair, warming her skin with a stench so prudent she nearly lost her concentration.

Watching the shadows shift on the ground, she waited till the last second to tuck into a roll off to her right, just narrowly missing being grasped by a pair of giant, calloused hands.

Sucking in a breath, Aveline spun on her heel in time to catch sight of the titan's face. Swiping the thick tawny hair away from her eyes, she nearly gagged.

Warty, pale skin stood out against the dark. Eyes the size of her head stared back at her curiously as its mouth gaped open with another low groan.

Gritting her teeth, Aveline didn't hesitate to unsheathe her swords and hold them at the ready.

Memories from only three weeks ago flooded her mind, making her hands shake as she stared at the very reason a quarter of her squad were no longer dedicating their hearts to humanity.

As though motivated by her distress, the titan pounced with speed it shouldn't possess, hands coated in blood long dried up reaching out towards her head.

With a grunt Aveline slid under its grasp, bringing her blades up to slice through the titan's fingers, severing them with a wet crack.

Ignoring how its blood felt soaking through her hair, Aveline staggered to her feet and shot her wires into the nearest tree. Once higher up then the titan could reach, she watched on in disgust as its fingers started to form back into place with a sickening sizzle.

Should she kill the beast now, or return to her squad? She was by no means a Scout, not anymore; could she even do it? Center of the nape, one meter deep and ten centimeters across; she remembered from boot camp. But could she follow through?

She wasn't left with much choice as the titan gave a frustrated growl and started to tear at the branches and bark of her tree.

Taking in one last deep breath, one that could very well be her last, she allowed gravity to pull her down. Switching her grip on her handles midair, she aimed towards the nape.

I'll be damned before I see more of my men go to you bastards.

Blood made her grip falter, nearly losing purchase of the cold metal in her hand. The cool night air burned her eyes, and her feet stung from the force in which she landed on the ground. Losing a breath she hadn't realized she had held the moment she fell, she peered over her shoulder. And there it lay, twitching against the grass; a chunk of its neck laying discarded in a mushy heap a few feet from its head.

Aveline watched for a moment as its body started to sizzle away, before spinning on her heel to race back to her squad.

It burned, how the titan's blood evaporated from her skin against the chill of the air rushing past her. But she couldn't afford to think of discomfort now. She had to reach her squad before another one woke up.

With pale eyes squinted against the breeze, she prayed she wouldn't be too far away, nor too late…

{ Word Count ~ 2,009 }

𝒜/𝒩: I thought I’d post something for V-Day, though it isn’t romance :p So the start may be a little slow and spun way out of storyline in comparison to S1, but I promise it’ll all come together and make sense within the next few chapters :) Thanks for giving this fic a chance <3

𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉: @21aurora @deepzombieyouth @braunsbabe @pelicanpizza If you'd like to be added to the taglist for my usual Levi content, just DM me! :3

[comfortwriting]

Maniac - G.W

George Weasley x Reader one shot/imagine inspired by the song ‘Maniac’ by Michael Sembello

About: George admires his crush (the reader) flourish as she discovers who she is and what she wants as she recovers from the toxic, abusive relationship she’s broken free from, her life takes a very interesting turn.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of physical and emotional abuse, partying.

This time last year you thought you found the love of life, despite all the warnings you collected from other girls in the above years - you ignored them and followed your heart. At first, he was kind, romantic, very chivalrous, especially in front of said friends and family; but behind closed doors he became a monster. 

George Weasley, your close friend fell for you the very moment he laid eyes on you. He too warned you about the guy you were seeing, but you didn’t want to believe it “he isn’t like that” you defended him.

Within months your relationship turned sour, you weren’t the same girl anymore, your lover - this monster - had complete control over you. He picked what you could and couldn’t wear, eat and study, he chose who you could and couldn’t be friends with and if you were to go against him you would turn up to class the next morning covered in bruises. The abuse got so bad you had to wear layers under your robes, you were never around for meal times and for lack of a better word, 

George felt like he was losing you.

He tried confronting your partner but there was little to no proof that he was the one responsible - after all, the monster pulled the wool over your eyes with his lies, he could do the same with everyone else and use magic if he felt at risk of exposure. 

You were failing all of your classes, losing friends, your hair dropping out, your weight plummeting but worst of all, George didn’t look at you the same anymore; his eyes usually flickered on like Christmas lights - but when he looked at you during the worst time of your life, his eyes didn’t light up, they screamed at you, begging to break free.

Exactly one year later you gathered all the courage you had stored inside of you and it burst out like a balloon filled with too much air, you weren’t afraid of him anymore, you weren’t afraid of anyone, you wouldn’t be controlled anymore not by him or anyone, you would be living YOUR life the way YOU want; no matter what other people have to say or think.

Returning to Hogwarts without the presence of the monster, everyone's jaws dropped but not as big as the boy who always longed for you; George.

The lights that went out of those beautiful eyes of his lit up for the first time in so long but now they were as bright as the moon on a dark and cold winters night, illuminating the sky.

Cat-walking through the great hall to join the first great feast everyone turned their heads following you.

Your hair now long, thick and silky reached your lower back swaying with every move. You weren’t withering away anymore, your cheeks now filled with colour and there wasn’t a bruise in sight on your body. You smirked at the lads gaping at your skirt length but you took the compliment - you finally realised your worth and you wanted to flaunt it. You were the dove in a room full of crows.

Just a steel town girl on a Saturday night Lookin' for the fight of her life In the real-time world no one sees her at all They all say she's crazy

“Where's y/n?” George asked a few familiar faces sat at the Gryffindor table.

“Don’t know” his friend Lee Jordan replied, smirking “she went out last night to Hogsmeade all dressed up, she’s probably still partying!”

“She’s mental that one” Ron chipped in, earning a glare from George.

Speaking of the devil you strolled up to the table sitting down next to George, he could smell the booze on your breath but didn’t say anything. 

“What's up guys?” you smiled brightly fighting sleep, drinking Harry’s pumpkin juice.

Fred gave George an amusing look “Where have you been all night?” he asked.

You had got yourself dolled up for a house party in Hogsmeade someone was throwing, you didn’t know who but you wanted to go wild and have fun after being unable to mutter a word to your friends or even step foot in that area for a year, you wanted to take the bull by its horns. 

George watched you, star struck by your presence. Your long hair tied up in a high but messy pony tail, your tight fitting velvet emerald dress (more than enough to impress the most uptight Slytherins) outlining the best your body before it’s length ended at your mid thigh. You put on crimson red lipstick and blushed, spotting George taking you in through his reflection the mirror. 

Arriving to the small house in Hogsmeade you shared drinks with the strangers, dancing and having a laugh playing the most ridiculous drinking games they learnt from Muggles at a pub in London. You crashed out on the sofa and awoke just before breakfast, you took off your high heels and ran as fast as you could to freshen yourself up before class. 

“I went out” you breathed out, wiping the pumpkin juice from your lips with your sleeve “thanks Harry!” you smiled at him, putting the glass down and running off to your first class. 

George sat there speechless, amazed at your transformation and happiness. 

Locking rhythms to the beat of her heart Changing movement into light She has danced into the danger zone When the dancer becomes the dance

You took your new found freedom with you everywhere, you felt on top of the world and capable of anything. You were over achieving in all the classes you previously failed, causing Snape for the first time in his teaching career to award Gryffindor House points. 

When you weren’t in class or studying in the library being followed by a swarm of fan boys and girls, you were always in Hogsmeade; attending house parties or going to the pub with a group of eager college boys. 

George felt jealous of the attention you were giving these boys but he didn’t utter a word, no matter who you were with or what you were doing, as long as you were happy and safe that’s all that mattered to him.

You were upbeat and incredibly impulsive, professors often joking that if they poked you hard enough you would burst out into confetti stars. 

Fred and George took advantage of your new found energy when it came to pulling pranks and inventing items for their business, you had managed to upstage them and somehow even outdo them on a handful of pranks, George felt amazed that after all this time someone was so close to stealing his and Fred’s thunder.  

However, with all of this madness and adrenalin chasing you, strapped under your belt you started being followed by consequences. You were spinning out of control but you were happy, you were starting to get incredibly intoxicated on your freedom. 

It can cut you like a knife, if the gift becomes the fire On a wire between will and what will be

Minding your business on the Quidditch pitch watching George practice, sporting your blackeye from the night before you heard a familiar screech yell out from below. “There's that bitch who snogged your lad last night!”

You went to yet another house party, stupid on your part as it was a Sunday and you were itching towards your exams. You noticed that these so called ‘fan girls’ you gained had turned nasty, since your flourishing they weren’t able to get dates. 

You accidentally had everyone, both men and women wanting a piece of you; but a group of girls from Slytherin and Ravenclaw surprisingly fused together, vowing to bring you down.

You drank way too much with a college guy who had ginger hair, you thought it was George and you made a move on him - you believed he was single because that's what he told you; he lied.

His girlfriend, a Ravenclaw paid a girl in Slytherin to follow you, to see how you were able to gain such a following, she became furious when she realised no magic spell or potion had been used - people liked you for you.

Catching you kissing him gave her just what she needed to cause your fall from grace, storming into the pub she pulled you off him and punched you, you were too drunk and embarrassed to stand your ground then but now you were waiting.

“Oh fuck off will you!” You yelled down at them, you stood up from the stands and walked down, pushing past them. 

The group of girls followed you, the Ravenclaw getting closer grabbed you by your hood, smacking you around the head repeatedly. “Don’t you ever go near him again!” 

George could see the commotion and flew beside you and dismounting his broom “what the fuck is going on? Bore off!” he yelled at the girls, pulling you away from them.

“He told me he was single!” you screamed at her “and I thought he was someone else!”

“You dirty liar!” she screamed back, turning to George staring him down “she’s turned into what wrecked her in the first place, stay away from her!” 

She's a maniac, maniac on the floor And she's dancing like she's never danced before She's a maniac, maniac on the floor And she's dancing like she's never danced before

“I’m telling the truth George, I promise.” You sighed laying back on his bed, waving your wand in the air. 

George stared at you, your face now bruised more than the previous night. “I believe you but...” he sighed trying to find the best way to word what he wanted to say “you need to be careful, I don’t want you to keep getting hurt”

You closed your eyes trying to hide your tear filled eyes, the dorm rooms door swung open and Fred burst in excitedly “Y/N I need your help, wait until you see this!” 

Your mood instantly lifting you bolted up and jumped out of bed, following Fred. George stayed still and rubbed his face with his hands, having no choice but to follow the two of you. 

On the ice-blue line of insanity is a place most never see It's a hard-won place of mystery touch it, but can't hold it You work all your life for that Moment in time, it could come or pass you by It's a push-shove world, but there's always a chance If the hunger stays the night

“What do you mean I’m not right for the job?” you questioned the interviewer, his eyes focused on the paper in front of him “I want to see what that says!” 

The academic part of your life came to a close, finishing with perfect grades you were job hunting - each and every time you were able to make an outstanding first impression and you were even hired on the spot. Within days and weeks before you started your new job you received letters of regret informing you that after second thoughts you weren't suitable for the job. 

“It’s confidential information, I cannot do that.” The man replied firmly.

You shook your head at him “Not if it involves me” quickly snatching the paper from his desk, before he could retrieve it you read the recorded information about you that had been documented, breaking your heart.

You burst through the shop door and stormed upstairs to find your boyfriend George, your face red and hot, tears spilling down your tender cheeks. 

“What's the matter sweetheart?” he asked upon your arrival, his face dropping at the sight of your distress. 

“Those bitches lied!” you cried out “They’ve lied to everyone, they’ve ruined every possible chance I have at succeeding in life!”

George dropped his pen, putting a hold on his tax filing he got up out of his chair and brought you into his arms, he looked confused at your statement. 

“I can’t get hired anywhere because those girls from Slytherin and Ravenclaw lied, they managed to get Rita Skeeter to write about me, contacting everywhere in the area I applied to, telling the owners that it would be irresponsible and a irreversible mistake if they were to hire me!” you were hyperventilating beyond control, choking on your tears “they’ve painted a picture of me that doesn’t exist, George! That I’m a threat, a danger to myself and others, making it out like my past defines me for who I am now!”  

There's a cold kinetic heat, struggling, stretching for the beat Never stopping with her head against the wind

You stared at your paintings hanging on the wall at your local art show, ones of George on his broom, others of all the creatures Hagrid raised. After failing at being hireable, George encouraged you to find something you were passionate about, to run with it and earn money from it. So you took up painting and added a bit of magic to impress the muggles more than those with talent you believed you couldn’t compete against.

George smiled at you through the window and nodded as a rich muggle lady walked past, stopping in her tracks as she eyed up the painting of the Cornish pixies mid air showing off their mischievous grins. 

“How extraordinary” she beamed up at your art, the pixies beady eyes twinkling at her. “How much?” she asked “my son will love this!”

You scratched the back of your head, forgetting that muggles didn’t have the same currency and you weren’t exactly the best with pounds and pennies.

 “Uh-” you stuttered, until the lady cut you off, noticing your other paintings.

The one of George made her laugh and Buckbeak took her breath away, shaking her head in disbelief “I’ve never seen such magnificent works of art in my life... forget how much, I’ll buy them all!” 

She's a maniac, maniac, I sure know And she's dancing like she's never danced before She's a maniac, maniac, I sure know And she's dancing like she's never danced before

Walking out of the art show you felt your heart skip beats, running towards George you jumped into his arms. “She bought the whole lot!” You squealed.

George spun you around in his arms, cheering for you with all his pride. “You’ve bloody done it, darling!”

The two of you celebrated with the rest of the Weasleys over family dinner at the burrow, Arthur fascinated by the rich muggles and what they spend their money on and Fred begging you to paint him for your next piece. 

After finishing the celebrations George took you out for a night stroll under the stars, the two of you swinging your laced hands with every step. He stopped under the moon, it’s bright light beaming down on the two of you as if you were in the spotlight on a large stage. 

Getting down on one knee George pulled out a small wooden box branded with Weasleys Wizard Wheezes on the front, you chuckled thinking he was going to pull out a magic ring to trap his and your fingers so you couldn’t part.

Upon opening the box George pulled out an incredibly sparkly and flawless amber ring which matched his beautiful hair, you realised that this wasn’t a new wacky invention or a perfectly plotted prank. 

“Y/N, from the moment I first saw you on the Hogwarts Express I fell for you and over the years my love for you has only bloomed all the more... will you marry me?”

It can cut you like a knife, if the gift becomes the fire On a wire between will and what will be

You scowled down at the negative pregnancy test in your hands and threw it into the bin adding to the collection of negative tests you had accumulated over the years since your wedding night. 

You fell to the floor and shook your head feeling frustrated and cheated, your husband George walked into the bathroom and frowned at you with sympathy knowing what the outcome was. 

“I’m so sorry” you cried.

George sat down next to you and held you hand, kissing it softly. “We’re in this together Y/N, okay?” 

You nodded and wiped your tears, letting out a shaky breath “yeah, we are.”

She's a maniac, maniac, I sure know (I sure know) And she's dancing like she's never danced before She's a maniac, maniac, I sure know And she's dancing like she's never danced before

You heard a massive thud above you, followed by a scream next door. Feeling annoyed you snapped your fingers, your paint brush and palette hovering in the air.

“Georgina, get down here right now!” You yelled at the top of your lungs, your husband George laughing behind you “don’t encourage her!” you scolded him. 

Your daughter with curly ginger hair and a cheeky grin just like her fathers thundered down the stairs, pulling out an earphone. 

“What?” she asked sheepishly, sending a look to her father causing him to laugh. 

“All because your brother has moved out it doesn’t mean his room is your magic practice room!” you told her off “this is the third time this week you’ve frightened next door, you’ll get expelled from Hogwarts before you’ve even started!”

Your youngest of four put her hands up in defence “okay, okay, I’m sorry” she smirked, giving her dad a thumbs up before running back upstairs. 

You shook your head but laughed, walking over to your husband who stood against the kitchen worktops with a brew in his hand. You hugged him and kissed his cheek. “I can’t believe this is my life” you muttered, pulling away and going back to painting your brother in law, Fred. 

Maniac, maniac, I sure know And she's dancing like she's never danced before She's a maniac, maniac, I sure know (I sure know) And she's dancing like she's never danced before

[lemonlushff-iy]

History Lesson in how OLR came to be...

A year ago, @clearwillow, @dawnrider, and @keichanz had just finished what would be known as the spontaneous Vday “hot off” of 2020, and it was decided that white day was going to just be a repeat of what we had just done...only we wanted everyone to participate and it was going to be open to all, and you could do whatever you wanted. Tease us. Post completed pieces. What have you. 

Shortly after, I fell into a VERY bad depression. I’m not shy about it. I’m not shy about my feelings or saying I’m hurt. I think people should be able to say that, and have it not be taboo. So I’m open about it. I wasn’t well. I felt inadequate. Like what I wrote was terrible. Like people within the fandom ONLY liked me because I was there for them 24/7 hyping up their work and singing their praises. I was the fandom hype girl. It felt like none of my friendships were REAL. 

And I’d been ok with that. 

Until I wasn’t. 

And a year ago today...I decided that I wanted to work past those feelings. I’d been struggling with them for about two days at this point, and I’d been looking at Carra’s pixiv and was completely CAPTIVATED by her work. Specifically, New Moon Ride, which has since been colorized. I was nervous and so low...I’d removed myself almost entirely from discord and tumblr, but I really wanted to participate in White Day, and I had this...idea in my head about this girl returning home and having a fling with a cattle rancher. I wanted it to be like Sweet Home Alabama (which is an Easter Egg for those of you on Patreon, and something to look for for those who aren’t).

Needless to say...

My depression made me miss the mark on that...

But I very nervously went to Carra who was this FANDOM GOD and asked “Hey...Would it be ok if I did this?” Needless to say...She said yes, and in doing so...She gave me this AMAZING gift. 

It was supposed to be a one shot just for White Day. I’d INTENDED for it to be a PWOP. The depression got the best of me though, and that...Clearly didn’t happen. Instead I started pouring all of these feelings I had inside of me into this story instead...And it’s become one of the greatest gifts of my life. It’s my emotional support fic. It takes all the bad and painful away from me. And I WISH that what I’d been feeling a year ago was the end of it, but it was only the beginning of it...And One Last Ride has been there for me for all of it. 

Providing me with an outlet for all of the feelings I’ve had. It’s allowed me to deal with a LOT. Drama. Friendships that died and times when I was shut out. Feelings regarding my own late father. General depression. 

One Last Ride has become deeply meaningful and a piece of my SOUL.

So...Thank you Carra for this AMAZING gift you’ve given me. You never knew when you drew that photo what you were about to unleash...But...I’m OH so very glad you did...

And in the spirit of how I started One Last Ride a year ago...

I offer you ALL a piece of post canon smut. It’s just a ficlet because...I just FINALLY finished the FIRST ACTUAL smut in One Last Ride (nearly a year later) and wanted to save my bandwidth for MORE smut...Can ya blame me?

And now, a short fic...

“Inuyasha...she could hear…” Kagome weakly protested, trying to push her husband away from her. 

“She won’t notice,” he soothed, continuing to suckle at her pulse point. “She’s watching that thing with the talking animals.”

“That narrows it down,” she gasped, feeling his tongue burn a path up the column of her neck. 

“I turned on the tv and she pointed. I weren’t about to ask questions,” he growled, pushing his hips into the swell of her ass, allowing her to feel the hardness between his legs. “‘Sides. I’m still cold from building that damn igloo with her. I need my sexy wife to warm me up.”

Yes...but they had been so cute. She loved watching the two of them play together. And watching him bite the inside of his cheek to keep from swearing when it kept collapsing. She knew that even though it hadn’t worked, he was going to go back out there tonight and figure out how to build Moroha her igloo. Even if it took him until 3 am, he was going to surprise his princess with one in the morning, no matter what. 

And she loved that about him.

“Giving her a shower didn’t do the trick?”

“Please,” he snorted. “All it did was leave me soaked. And all I wanna do is make you wet,” he murmured, slipping a hand under her shirt and laying his palm against the soft, relatively flat skin of her stomach. 

“Yash…”

“She won’t hear,” he promised, his hands coming to cup her breasts over the lace of her bra. “Washer and dryer will be too loud and she will be too distracted…”

“But what about the cookies...”

“We still have ten minutes.”

“And when she tries to take them out of the oven on her own? She has a little too much of you in her, you know,” Kagome replied dryly as his fingers found the tip of her nipple. The pad of his thumb gently brushed against her sensitive skin, making her bite the inside of her cheek.

“Better make it eight then...”

“That sure of yourself,” she challenged, his gentle ministrations to her body was making it hard for her to continue to resist him. 

“I know you, woman…” he growled as he reached out to find the doorknob of the laundry room, and swiveled the lock into place. 

Good. 

No interrupting daughters. 

“I know what makes you wet,” he continued, pulling the lace cups of her bra down before lifting the wire frames up and away from her breasts to rest above them on her chest. He felt their weight in his palms, tweaking her nipples and making her head fall back onto his shoulder. 

“D-do you now,” she breathed as he found the lobe of her ear, pulling it between his fangs and suckling on it. 

“I think I do, Kags,” he smirked, one of his palms sliding down her rib cage and over the soft, silvery lines of her stomach to the band of her pants. He felt her freeze in his arms as his palms connected with those lines, and he kissed her that much harder.

She hated those lines. She’d done everything she could when she was pregnant to avoid them, but they came anyways, despite her efforts. She thought they made her ugly. 

He thought they made her sexier. 

“Stop it,” he reprimanded, kissing her jaw lovingly. He knew what that look meant. She was thinking about them again. How her body had changed since giving him the most precious gift in his life. He hated when she did that. “You’re beautiful. Fucking sexy as hell. I’ll tell you that every damn day ‘till I die. I wouldn't change a thing about you.”

“Yash,” she breathed, turning her head and allowing him to capture her lips in a sweet, loving kiss. He was so good with words...but his lips were even better at this. He had a way of reaffirming everything he said with his hands. His touch. His body. 

The only sounds that could be heard in the small space of their laundry room, were the sounds of the dryer turning and spinning the wet clothes inside, and their heavy breathing. The sounds of their lips moving wetly against one another as he showered her with affection. Showed her how much he loved her. Expressed his need for her and her body. 

Her hands slowly wound their way into his hair, finding his ears. She rubbed them between her finger tips, starting at the base and slowly working her way towards the fuzzy tips. He moaned against her lips and lifted her shirt, lowering his head to her soft breasts. His tongue found her nipples and she felt him swirl it around her sensitive flesh as his hands worked the band of her panties and leggings down her legs. 

“Yash,” she moaned, his name clawing its way out of her throat against her will. 

“Shhh...You need to keep it down, Darling,” he reprimanded, pulling away from her trembling form as he worked one of her feet out the bottom of the mess of clothing. “You don’t want her to hear.”

“I thought you said she wouldn’t be able to hear,” She replied, panic beginning to bloom in the pit of her stomach. Oh god...They hadn’t had any situations with Moroha yet, but she didn’t want to explain this to her daughter yet either. 

“She can’t,” he soothed, the velvety tone of his voice slowly calming her as he lifted her leg over his shoulder, kissing her thigh. “But you can’t start getting loud neither. No screaming, remember? Anyone would be able to hear that. Demon blood or not.”

Her cheeks turned bright red at the reminder of just how loud she could be, and then red from the feeling of his tongue slipping between her lips. He zeroed in on her clit, and her nails scraped against his scalp. Soft little moans of pleasure crawled out of the back of her throat. 

He used them as a guide as he slipped his fingers inside. Watched the trembling of her abdomen. The heaving of her breasts as she tried to steady her breathing. 

And then she was gnashing her bottom lip, her face twisting and eyes screwing shut as her orgasm swept through her body. He held her, let her ride his face as she came - let her pull his hair and whimper his name against the palm of her hand. 

When she’d finished, he pulled away from her and lowered his sweatpants and boxer briefs, allowing them to pool at his ankles as his hardness sprang free. 

Fuck, he was so hard. 

And she was so ready for him.

“Should have a few more minutes still,” he commented, turning her around against the washing machine. She lifted her leg, his hands coming to softly grip her delicate flesh in his palms and support her. 

“Should?”

“I’ll hear when the timer goes off, don’t worry,” he soothed, lining the head of his cock up with her entrance. He slowly sank inside, his head falling to her shoulder, and kissed her neck. “God Kags…”

“Mmm…” she agreed, her head rolling back onto his shoulder as his fangs scraped against her pulse point. 

He slowly thrust into her, his hips gaining in speed and setting a vigorous pace as he took her from behind. He sought out all the places he knew she loved, and his fingers brushed through the patch of curls at the apex of her thighs to locate her clit. The tips of his fingers swirled around it as he continued to work her from behind until the coil that had been tightening in her snapped. 

The hand that had been holding her hip, guiding hers into his, released it to slap over her lips as he nervously glanced at the door. 

“Shhh...Kags…” he grunted, his eyes screwing shut. He couldn’t take much more…

He was almost there…

“Cum for me, Yash,” she begged, lowering his hand so her words wouldn't be muffled. 

“Kags…”

What was all he needed. He tumbled, over the edge of the abyss, allowing his orgasm to sweep through him as he spilled himself inside her. 

“Yash,” she soothed, feeling his body go limp against hers. “What got into you today,” she throatily chuckled, and he rubbed his forehead against her shoulder blade. 

“Nothing,” he sighed, burying his face into her neck and inhaling deeply as his cock slipped out from between her folds. 

“Liar,” she teased, watching as he dropped to his knees to use his tongue and mouth to clean up the mess he’d made in her. “You normally keep it in your pants until she’s sleeping.”

Catching him red handed, was she?

He couldn’t lie. It wouldn’t get him anywhere. 

“I want another one, Kags.”

“Another one?” she pressed, her brow furrowing in confusion, and he nervously nodded his head. 

“Another baby. She’s getting older...And this house is too big for just the three of us...and I miss it. Having a baby around. And she wants a sibling too. All her friends have one. And I...I...I dunno...I just...Do.”

His words were so sweet. So soft and tender. 

“Yash…”

“Don’t say no just yet,” he pleaded, pulling his sweatpants up as he stood. “Promise me you’ll think about it...And...And please don’t be mad...It’s been on ma mind a while, but you ain’t even ovulating now. But thinking about another one and how much fun we had trying ta get Mo...Well…”

So that was why. It all made sense now. 

“I promise I’ll think about it Yash,” she grinned, pulling her leggings back up her legs and adjusting herself within the cups of her bra as the timer went off in the kitchen. 

“Mommy? Daddy?”

“That’s our cue,” he sighed, relief washing over him as he pulled away from her and slipped out of the laundry room. 

She’d think about it. It weren’t a yes...but he didn’t need one right now. That could come later. 

Right now, he just wanted her to think about the possibility of adding another one to their happily ever after. 

And it was a pretty damn sweet happily ever after, if he did say so himself.

[honeypirate]

Lettuce leaf

Schmoking with Kaminari

Warnings: smoking weed. Doing the drug.

Denki Kaminari x female reader

This is supposed to be last year at UA

Unedited

—————————————————————

Mina made eye contact with Ochako, who knew immediately what she was saying with her eyes and nodded with a smirk, Ochako immediately ran up to you, taking your hand and kneeling down “Denki I love you” she sings, Mina taking your other hand in a dramatic flare as she sings “Denki I Dooooooo!” Then at the same time they sing “when we’re apart I think only of youuuuu” you’re horrified, your cheeks blushing red as a tomato, cursing yourself for choosing Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire for your last movie night, it just gave them so much more ammo with their teases. “guys!! Shut! Up! What if he hears you!?” You whisper/yell at them as they just laugh at you. You were standing in the common room kitchen space as they put together a fancy punch for the party they were having, you just happened to be asking if Denki was coming and they just started teasing you. So what if he’s been all you could practically talk about for the last month? It doesn’t mean anything. Just because you’ve been hanging out more and sneaking up to the roof together to smoke a joint every once in a while(every night). You were just friends.

“Geez y/n! I think would be good if he did hear us tho! Then you could go on a date! That would be so fun!” Mina exclaimed with excitement as she poured sprite into a big punch bowl, Ochako nodded as she added pink lemonade to the mix “if you feel comfortable in doing so, I think you should tell him how you feel” she adds with a knowing smile, she was in a similar boat with Deku for awhile before they both confessed.

“Tell who how who feels?” Kiri says as he comes into the room, followed by Mineta and Denki, “What?” Denki asks “Ochako just said to “tell him how you feel” and now I’m curious” Kirishima says. You slowly take a deep inhale watching this all unfold, a slow exhale as you think of what to say. “Hey boys!” You say and force an easy smile on your face, praying you don’t blush too much, “they have this taken care of so how about we go choose the music or something!” You suggest and send a look back at the girls as you lead them out of the kitchen space, after you’re a good ways away you hear them bust up laughing.

“Denki, would you mind choosing one of your playlists? You have a good mix and I trust it” you chuckle, thinking of the time Mineta played his sex playlist making everyone uncomfortable. You hold out the aux cord “you like my music?” He asks and you nod “I do. I was gonna ask you to send me your playlist actually, since we all hung out in your room last week” you don’t miss the blush that creeps up on his cheeks, it makes your heart skip at how cute he looked.

After everyone in the dorm showed up you all talked and hung out, danced a little, and when everyone was distracted with karaoke you got Denki’s attention and then motioned with your head toward the stairs. His eyes light up in recognition and he nods once. Butterflies erupt in your stomach as you make your way to the stairwell, heading up to your room to grab your stuff since it was your night to bring the joint. When you make it back to the stairwell he’s coming up them “perfect timing” he says, holding too cups of punch, and you smile.

The first time you smoked together it was because you were the only one who showed up when he sent his message to the group chat, every other time after that he only invited you. It became your thing together, even if you didn’t smoke you’d still go up there to talk and sometimes just sit in the quiet with a friend.

The more you talked to him the more you fell for him, getting past the horny tornado on the surface of his personality has shown you a completely different Denki than you originally thought. He was sweet and thoughtful and he is extremely loyal to his friends. You knew you liked him when you stopped caring that mineta was there when you hung out, you just wanted to be around Kaminari.

“God this is nice” you say as you exhale the smoke, passing the joint to Kaminari, the sounds of bugs in the trees and the moon above, this was one of your favorite parts of the day. He blows his smoke out, the wind blowing it away in a twirl “it really is” he says softly, his fingers brushing against yours as the joint passes between you, the electric sparks up your forearm not the fault of his quirk.

You sit side by side on the ground, leaning against the wall by the door, your legs out in front of you and crossed at your ankles. He legs were out straight, his left thigh pressed against yours, his warmth radiating into your skin through your jeans. You stay quiet for a few minutes, the only sound being the inhale and exhale of your hits and the sound your arms made when they brushed to pass the joint. “I look forward to this every day” his voice soft next to you, breaking the silence and giving you goosebumps. You let out the smoke and turn to him with a smile “I do too” you admit and he takes the joint from your fingers. “What was Ochako saying earlier? Who do you want to tell your feelings to?” He knew it was about you, the way you blushes and quickly made them leave, he could tell you were flustered. He just hoped and prayed it was him you all were talking about. He holds the joint to your lips and you inhale, grateful for you few seconds to think about your response. “You” you whisper, deciding to be honest since it was the perfect opportunity.

The joint was now a small nub with probably one hit left, he lifts it to his lips while maintaining eye contact and takes the last hit, flicking the end off and giggling. “wanna try something?” He asks without letting out much of the smoke, you raise your eyebrows “sure” you whisper and he reaches up, cupping your cheek and tilting your face up as he leans down, pressing his lips into yours and nudges your mouth open with his own, you comply with his demands although your brain has basically short wired. He giggles as he slowly gives you the smoke from his lungs, a bit escaping past your lips until you realize you’re supposed to inhale, you hold back your giggles and raise your left hand, bringing it to the back of his neck and burying it in his soft hair.

When he pulls back, you’re smiling wistfully up at him, your whole body tingling. His hand still on your cheek as he gazes down at you through hooded bloodshot eyes. You exhale through your nose and the smoke floats up between your faces. “What exactly did you want to try? The smoke or..?” He laughs, a soft chuckle from deep in his chest, it makes your cheeks flush even more than they already were. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long, the smoke was just a fun idea” he admits and brushes his thumb across your cheek bone. “Hey Denki, do you wanna try something?” You ask with a smirk and he chuckles “what?” He chuckles and you laugh as you put your left leg across him, straddling his legs now with your hands on his shoulders. You smile down at him, his other hand coming up to rest on the back of your thigh as he smiles back at you, his eyes have a sweet glint in them and he’s looking at you like he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

You cup his cheek and then rub your thumb across his bottom lip “I want to kiss you again” he whispers, his warm breath fanning across your thumb still on his lip, butterflies fill your chest at his confession and you close the short distance between your lips, you tried to go slow and soft but the moment your lips touched you couldn’t help melting into him, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you flush against him as he licks your bottom lip. You moan as his tongue slips inside of your mouth, the taste of weed and a hint of lemonade from the punch

When you pull back to catch your breath you slide down in his lap slightly to lay your head on his shoulder, both of your chests heaving as you panted. “Y/n?” His voice was quiet and he started to softly scratch your back up and down over your shirt “Denki?” You start to pepper soft kisses on his neck and he takes a deep contented breath as butterflies race in his veins, “be my girlfriend” he says with a smile, looking up at the stars as he holds you close to him. “What?” you say without hesitation, less than a second after he finished saying it, causing him to laugh, you lean up and look into his eyes “you mean it?” You ask and he nods “I can’t stop thinking about you and I always miss you. I was going to just ask you out on a date but really all of these times up here could be considered dates. I want you to be my girlfriend now” He smiles and adds “as well as take you out on a date tomorrow night” you giggle in excitement “of course I will be your girlfriend! But I can’t go out tomorrow night I’m supposed to help Mina with our project” you say and he laughs, reaching up and playing with your hair “let’s go after then. Or we can just hang out in my room and watch a movie” he suggests and you blush, knowing already that you’ll just end up kissing the whole time. Then you blush even deeper remembering that he still is a horny tornado. You get a shiver and then cuddle closer to him again “we should get back to the party before they send someone looking. Do you think we could stop by your room and you can lend me a hoodie?” you grin and he chuckles “I would love nothing more than to you in my clothes” his words have a deeper meaning, you just know it. You slap his shoulder and laugh before standing up, taking his hand and helping him up as well.

“You’re so beautiful” he says when you pull on one of his hoodies, the hood up over your head and your eyes looking at him bloodshot and obviously high as shit. “Thank you” your voice is shy and you blush as he looks at you with so much adoration. He cups your cheeks with both hands and kisses you again, the breath rushing from your lungs and electricity surging through your veins. You hum happily when he pulls back, your hands holding on to his wrists as he holds your face. “Can we just listen to some music and stay here?” You whisper and he chuckles “a woman after my own heart. Of course we can do that” he takes your hand and pulls you to his bed, kicking off his shoes and laying down, pulling you on top of him and holding you to his chest “Alexa! play ‘songs that remind me of her’ on Spotify” you look up at him and quirk your eyebrows as music starts playing “her is you” he says with a blush “you have a playlist of songs that remind you of me?” You’re a little shocked, that was such a cute thing to do. He nods shyly and you kick your shoes off, pushing your toes into the bed and connecting your lips with his. “You’re really the best” you whisper when you pull away, laying your head on his chest.

“I really think my life would be improved if I had a fake hand” he says out of the blue, most likely an effect of the drug. You bust up laughing and brace yourself on his chest, reaching in your pocket and pulling out your phone. “Hold on I have to put that on the Twitter.” You can’t stop chuckling as you type out the tweet. After the first time you smoked with him you made a Twitter page just to tweet out things Kaminari says when he’s high. You chuck your phone across the bed and then look at him “okay. Explain” he’s still giggling “I mean think of it! The amount of jokes I could make. I could have several different options and I could make one metal to conduct my electricity. Could you imagine if I shook someone’s hand and mine came off? I would always be bringing attention to it and making jokes. It would be a constant laugh! Imagine Mr. Aizawa if I raised my hand it flew off across the room!” You can’t stop the giggle fit you’re now in “god you’re so adorable” you say and he stops, flipping you over and leaning over you now as he smiles “uno reverse” he barely gets out that sentence before he’s laughing again, leaning down into your neck as you laugh hard with him, your cheeks burning from smiling so hard “an adorable idiot I mean”

[spiralxshock]

Day 7: Support

When her Captain and first mate drag themselves back from having disappeared for weeks, Thorn has some mending to do. 

Thorn barely recognized Killer when he finally returned to the ship, trailing behind their Captain. They were a sight for sore eyes, but even she could feel the tension in the air as they came aboard. Nobody spoke aside from Crow, who all but dragged their captain away to look him over. But once they were gone all eyes rested on Killer. He didn’t look like the same person. Face exposed to the world and grinning wildly, shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter. From her position outside the kitchen, she could see the glances the crew were giving each other. Everyone was worried, but nobody knew what to say. They didn’t stop him as he came towards her, the safety of the kitchen the next best thing after the room he shared with Kid- a room likely occupied as Crow made sure the captain wasn’t actually as rough as he looked. 

Thorn held the door for Killer, shooting a glance to the rest of the crew before closing the door behind them. She was silent as she put some water on, preemptively pulling out a mug.

“Go ahead, I know you want to say something.” Killer’s voice was breathless and strained, edged with laughter. Despite his words, despite how much he’d always hated his face and laugh, she knew the statement wasn’t baiting her. Whatever they had done to him couldn’t hide just how defeated he sounded.

“Are you… going to be ok?” She asked, turning to him from her place by the stove. As much as she tried to keep her expression neutral, she couldn’t help how her brow furrowed in concern.

“Fafafa, I don’t know.” Tears filled his eyes as he dissolved into pained laughter. She swallowed the lump in her throat. What had they done to him when they had separated?

“Some of the others are outside. I think they could help.”

“Fafafa, You- fafa, you think they could help?” His laughter grew more frantic, more pained, as he struggled to speak. “Fafafafa! You saw how they looked at me!”

“I did. And it’s a look I’m familiar with. Wanting to help, but not knowing how. I see it a lot.” She fell silent, the room filled only with the other’s frantic laughter. It was only when it had mostly subsided that she spoke again. “Killer. Do you trust me?”

“I do.”

“Well, I’ll vouch for the others. They’re not going to laugh at you. With you, maybe, but not at you.”

Her friend took a shaky breath.

“Fine.”

Thorn nodded, standing and making her way to the door. She could feel the others outside, uncomfortable and unsure of whether or not to knock. They wouldn’t have to worry much longer. She opened the door, smiling as the group looked down at her.

“C’mon. Hope you brought a change of clothes for him.”

“That and more.” Heat responded, still hesitating. “Are you sure he’s fine with us seeing him?”

“Yeah, just... don’t do anything to piss him off. It’s my neck on the line this time.” She turned away and walked back into the kitchen. “Last one in closes the door.”

As the small group surrounded Killer, it was impossible to miss his look of surprise.

“Couldn’t grab your mask before Crow kicked us out, but we’ve got something for you to change into.”

“Shit, Killer, you’re hair’s a mess.”

“I got more bandages. You’re starting to bleed through yours.”

Thorn watched from her place by the counter as hands pulled gently at Killer. Heat had pulled his hair out of the high ponytail and was brushing it out as Wire worked on redressing his wounds. Someone else had already spirited his cape away, likely to put it with the rest of their treasure. If nothing else it’d be worth selling once they got away from the island.

Soon enough he was looking like his old self again, aside from his lack of mask and the blanket draped over his shoulders. Even his laughter had died down by the time she started passing out tea to everyone in the room. She wasn’t sure how long that would last, though. His smile had turned genuine as everyone began filling him in on what happened since he had been gone.

“Thorn did a full transformation not long after you left. It looks so stupid- Thorn, show him!” One of them said, grinning wildly. She responded with an exaggerated pout.

“Hey now, it’s not stupid. Absolutely ridiculous maybe, you could even say it’s adorable. But not stupid!” Thorn’s voice dripped with mock drama, prompting laughter from the whole group.

That was all the go-ahead she needed, and let herself shift into her Axolotl form. She’d seen herself in the mirror. The devil fruit made her a funny little creature, and that was just a fact. Killer was crying again, laughter breathless and wild and genuine. Everyone else was laughing too. She waddled about for a bit, Zoan form ironically not one meant for land movement, before turning back into a human once more.

“I can regenerate too, so if you ever need a hand I’ve got plenty.”

The night dragged on, tone staying pretty much the same. Stories shared and jokes told, laughs indistinguishable from each other as they filled the air. Eventually the gathering moved into the dining hall, wide doors open as more blankets were brought in. The moon was high in the sky by the time the ship had fallen silent, everyone having fallen asleep in a heap on the floor of the dining hall. Thorn was left alone in the kitchen, cleaning up before she inevitably joined the pile.

She didn’t look back when the door outside swung open. There was no need to.

“Captain.”

“Where’s Killer?”

“Well hello to you too.” She glanced over her shoulder. He was looking better, but still tired. In his hand he held Killer’s mask. “You can just put that on the table. No use giving it to him now.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Everyone’s passed out in the dining hall. He can get it in the morning.”

“You’re joking.”

“Go look for yourself.”

She turned back to the last of the dishes as he wandered over to the door, taking in the scene before returning and setting the mask on the table.

“Everyone took it well?” His voice was low. Dangerous.

“As well as they could, seeing him come back like that. But I think it helped everyone. Everyone made the situation easier for Killer, and talking to him kept them from worrying about you.”

Thorn felt him relax behind her.

“Are you ok, Captain?”

“I will be once Kaido’s dead.”

“Guess that means we’re staying a bit longer?”

Turning the faucet off, she dried her hands and moved over to the door leading into the dining hall.

“Might as well rest while we can. You coming?”

“Yeah.” It was more a grumble than anything. She supposed he realized it would be the only way to sleep next to Killer tonight. If he wanted to avoid waking everyone up, at least.

“Captain?”

“Hm?”

“What happened to him? Nobody asked. Figured it wasn’t a good time. But… he probably told you, right?”

He came to stand beside her, hand in a fist and knuckles white.

“It was one of those damn SMILE fruits we heard about. He… We can’t do anything for him.”

“Sure we can.” Thorn grinned up at her captain, elbowing him gently. “If he can’t stop smiling, we’ll just have to start.”

He elbowed her back. They picked their way through the crew together, finding where Killer was laying. His smile had faded to a soft grin, breathing even hair wild. Kid settled in beside him, pulling him close. Thorn stayed on his other side, squeezing herself between Killer and Heat. It was nice, having everyone back together. They could deal with whatever happened next in the morning.

[skywillsometimeswrite]

Don’t Talk About It

Read it on AO3

Grif and Simmons went through a lot together. Some of that, you just didn't talk about. Even when there was nothing else you could do.

Season 15 Alternate Ending

It felt like Simmons has dreaming. Dammit, he hoped he was dreaming. There was a dizzying feeling in his head and if it weren’t made of cybernetic material he was sure his heart would have been rapidly beating from sheer panic. Grif was gone. He was… actually gone. For real this time. No second chances, no movie cliches where they were just hanging off the edge. He was gone. K.I.A. Dead .

Bile was crawling up his throat as he stared down at the blood oozing from the orange helmet, the visor destroyed from the bullet that had sliced through it easily at a point-blank range. Simmons would kill Temple. He would kill him for taking his best friend away from him right when he got him back. He would kill him for him away before he ever got the chance to even tell him how he felt.

“Grif? Come, come on! Grif!” He was shaking the body hopelessly. He wanted to wake up. Or wake Grif up. He knew it was impossible but he was too angry and heartbroken and in shock to even comprehend what had completely happened yet. At least, that’s what he was telling himself. Even though he knew. He just didn’t want to believe it. “Dex?” Hope was draining. Emotion rising.

He didn’t try to hold back the tears as they came or try to hide the rising sobs in his throat. He wasn’t frozen like the rest of his team and he wasn’t even bothering to help them but god dammit Grif was dead and here he was being useless and it was probably all his fault-

He heard another gunshot behind him, barely able to glance away from Grif to see another body laying, bleeding out on the ground. Blue. Caboose? No. There was another blue figure right next to it, and that shine of blue visor confirmed it. That was Loco. This cocksucker had shot his own teammate. Simmons was furious for multiple reasons now.

“Simmons! Get out of the way!” Tucker yelled right after he heard the click of a pistol getting prepared to shoot again. His head swiveled to look at Temple again, looking down directly at the barrel of his gun.

“I’ll give you the same offer. Join the circle, or suffer the same fate as your idiot friend.” His voice was shaking.

Simmons felt something like a flame rush through his veins, his hands clenched into fists. He knew the psychopath couldn’t see him, but he felt like he could glare a hole right through the gun and into his very head. He shouted, jumping up and tackling Temple to the ground. The pistol and the remote for the armor lock slid across the ground. Andrews scooped it up quickly and unfroze everyone. Feet clunk around the room, several finding their way behind him.

Simmons didn’t pay attention to any of them. He was seeing red, which he imagined his commander officer saw on a daily basis. His body was taking over his mind, even the cyborg part. He was pinning Temple against the ground, punching his visor mercilessly.

“What do you want Grif? We have to get back or else Sarge will-” Simmons was frozen at what he was seeing. In front of him was an entire old school movie theater set up in front of him complete with a projector.  “What… the hell…”

“What do you think? Took me ages to find all the parts for the projector, and don’t even get me started on the speakers. But hey, at least we finally got a kick-ass man cave we can hang out now. And we can restart  our sci-fi movie watching routine.”

“You… set this all up? For us?” Simmons was speechless. Why would Grif-? Did he really care this much? Or was he just trying to get out of work again? Either way, with a nod and the brightest grin he had possibly ever seen from Grif, he walked in slowly. It was a normal cave with two old, beat up couches on either side of a small half-decayed wooden end table refurbished to the best of the lazy soldier's ability and the projector that didn’t look half bad on top of it. In front of it was a cooler with a few beers sticking out, and on either side of the other cave wall, two black speakers faced the small set up. Simmons couldn’t help but pick up the projector in awe, turning over in his hands. “You fixed these?”

“Eh, maybe.” Grif shrugged, but by the obvious pride in his voice and expression, it was clear he did. “Had to bug Lopez for the parts but otherwise it was pretty straight forward.”

“I never took you for the tinkering type.”

“I guess I’m full of surprises today.”

He never asked him about why he set it up, simply enjoyed the company. It wasn’t something that they needed to talk about.

Cracks were visible now on the blue visor, spider webbing. Simmons had no idea if Temple was even still conscious anymore.  There was yelling behind his ringing ears, his sobs clouding his vision. Some blood was stained on the helmet, filling the cracks. He could see his helmet in the reflection. Just like a mirror.

“Simmons?”

He was curled up on the bathroom floor, holding his organic hand with his metal one, tears and blood dripping on the floor. He barely recognized Grif’s voice and he looked up to see the orange soldier in the doorway, his expression shocked and… was that concern? In front of him was shattered glass and blood littered on the floor, wall, and sink.

“G-Grif? I-I-”

“Shut the fuck up.” Grif said sternly, now on the ground next to him. He had moved swiftly, grabbing the bandages from the medicine cabinet that was now clearly visible behind broken glass. He was plucking out the shards from Simmons’ knuckles and rinsing them off with a wet rag that had once been hanging up on the wall. Simmons was silent the entire time, watching Grif  bandage his self-inflicted injury. When he was done he just sat there, cradling Simmons’ hand and staring at it. It was silent for what felt like way too long.

“I’m sorry-”

“I said shut the fuck up.” Grif repeated to Simmons’ strained apology.

So he did. And they sat there. Silent. Grif never asked him why Simmons did it. Simmons never told. A few similar situations happened afterwards but they never talked about. You don’t talk about it.

“Simmons.” His blind rage was stopped by a strong teal hand. “He’s already out.”

Tucker’s somber voice was more than unnerving. Simmons stared down at the helmet, cracked, blood staining it the blue tinted visor. Simmons didn’t even realize he was shaking until Tucker pulled him away and let him fall on the floor behind Temple and looked down at his hands. There was still a layer of drying blood barely visible on the black gloves and Simmons suddenly felt like he was suffocating. He fumbled with his helmet, attempting to shove it off his head unsuccessfully.

Simmons was thrashing in the water. He should have known that swimming on a fucking moon would have extremely strong currents. He had never been a strong swimmer, and his armor felt like it was weighing him down. And apparently this incredibly heavy armor didn’t keep out all the water because he felt a splash against his face from the bottom of his helmet. The helmet clasps must be failing. Which meant his helmet would come off. Simmons was going to drown if he didn’t short circuit first. Panic only grew and he was trying to tread water even more frantically.

Why had he let Griif have to go swimming today? Why did he have to be such a weak swimmer? Why did he have to care so much about his fucking useless teammate? Why did he --

His thoughts were cut off as his back hit something hard in the water, presumably a large boulder. The air left his artificial lungs and he swear he heard a wire snap as he lost his ability  to keep thrashing. He let the waves carry him, letting the water slosh around in his helmet, feeling it loose on his neck. It was quiet. Almost peaceful. Maybe if he fell asleep he wouldn’t even register drowning?

Something caught his attention though, something strong wrapping around his waist as he was now dragged in the water with a sort of purpose. His HUD light had long since broke and he was staring into darkness, but he could sense that it was another person dragging him to shore. He didn’t think moons had lifeguards.

Before long Simmons felt something more solid brush against the lower half of his body, and he could almost make out the sounds of the waves again. Waves getting farther away. He wasn’t in the middle of them anymore. He was dropped roughly on the ground and he was too out of it to even bother trying to move. He still wasn’t sure he could. He could make out the faint sounds of someone yelling at him and he tried to strain the stronger side of his hearing to listen, but alas he couldn’t even make out whose voice it was.

Suddenly, there was bright light right down at him. His helmet was off of him now, and he was blurrily staring up at the blue sky. Except, the sun looked a lot closer than what he was used to. He felt a pressure on his chest and before he knew it water was coming up his throat. He didn’t even realize he had swallowed any -- that couldn’t be good for cyborg insides. He forced his organic arm to move, pushing him over so he didn’t swallow his own vomit and let it fall onto the sand instead. His red hair flopped down into his eyes and he shook under his own weight trying to push himself up. He coughed up whatever water was left in his system before shakily sitting up, trying to decipher what had just happened.

And the first thing he saw was Grif. Half-naked with only swim trunks to cover himself, his curly black hair wet and framing his head in an almost majestic way, drop of water reflecting the last bits of the sun’s rays on the tan side of his skin, sparkling on the pale side. His expression betrayed how worried he was for his friend, his hands hovering over the cyborg as if he would collapse at any moment. And, honestly, Simmons wasn’t convinced he wouldn’t.

His helmet was off to the side along with his chestplate. Slowly, the pieces clicked together. Simmons was drowning and because Grif was a strong swimmer and pulled him to shore then gave him CPR which managed to work despite his insides being metal. Grif must be really good at CPR if he can save two people with it when it should be impossible. Maybe he should consider being a medic. Simmons would have to remember to mention that when he woke up -- along with a thanks -- because right now Simmons was face planting into the sand hearing nothing but a distressed “Simmons!” before darkness engulfed him. They never talked about it.

He finally got a grip and ripped his helmet off along with his chestplate, trying to get his breathing to return to normal. Maybe that wire had never been fixed because his artificial lungs shouldn’t be malfunctioning like this. He held his head in his hands for two seconds before remembering the blood and pulling away with a yelp, backpedalling until he was against the wall as if he could run away from the suit he was wearing. He scanned the room desperately, looking for an exit of some sort so he could breathe because he still felt like he was suffocating and the room felt far too small.

And then he spotted Grif again.

Doc by his side.

His helmet off.

Blood dripping.

Dark hole in his forehead.

Broken glass.

Glazed over eyes.

Staring right at Simmons.

A choked sound escaped Simmons and his body lurched forward, and before he knew it a new tidal wave of tears were streaming from his remaining eye. The eye that matched Grif’s. The eye that was just staring back him so lifeless.

“Grif, Grif, Grif no -- I, Grif -- Please you can’t -- Please! I just, I just got, no, no, no, no…” He dissolved into a ball right there, sobbing loudly as the realization finally settled on him.

There were shaking breaths from both of them, them visible in the air in front of them. The were both silent as they just watched the snowflakes fall. Simmons was surprised that the Hawaiian even decided to take his helmet off, considering he hasn’t been able to stop bitching about the cold since they got to sidewinder. But perhaps the adrenaline was still swimming around in his system. Maybe that’s why he was shaking. Simmons knew that’s why he was.

Almost falling off a cliff could do that to a person.

Grif pulled out a cigarette and struggled to light it for a few seconds before he visibly seemed to relax with the first drag. Simmons didn’t argue and Grif seemed to notice by the way he glanced over at the cyborg.

“You feeling okay, Simmons? I’m ruining your lungs right in front of you and you haven’t so much as sent a disapproving look.” He asked after blowing another puff of smoke into the air, it nicely contradicting the white overlay the rest of the place had.

“I, well,” Simmons struggled to find the words. Grif had nearly died right in front of him. And if he hadn’t grabbed the brute shot from the Meta then he would have followed right over the edge and it would be all his fault because he had decided to try to grab him with his right-fucking-arm. “I just think you deserve it. It’s been a long day.”

“...yeah. Yeah it has.” Grif left it at that, taking another long drag and leaning his head back to blow up the smoke. They let the silence wash over them. They didn’t need the words to know that they didn’t need to talk about it.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair. They had survived so much together. So much. A tank, the surgery, a bomb, freelancers, the Meta, a cliff, a civil war, mercenaries, Carolina, Chruch, Sarge for crying out loud! Simmons never thought a bullet -- a fucking bullet of all things -- split them up for good. It had always been Grif and Simmons. Simmons and Grif. They were a team. They were partners. They were… them . Simmons had gotten used that. That was how things were, you didn’t mess with the fucking status quo . But Temple just had to fuck with everything, didn’t he? If Grif had just stayed on that stupid fucking moon then, then…

They had been together for so long. Been through so much. How could it end just like that?

It all felt like a nightmare even as he was dragged out of the lair and into the transport ship to take them all home. He slightly registered Sister’s voice, her screams and others following after her. His team tried to ask if he was okay but gave up when he didn’t answer.

Simmons wasn’t okay. He had a feeling he might never be okay. But as the ship landed, the story was published, the funeral was held, and they retired for good this time, no one mentioned the name. Especially not around Simmons.

There were somethings you just didn’t talk about.

[annoyinglyjovialbird]

Voltron: Next Generation

Juvenile Matters: III

Word Count: 2938

On the Coeus, dinner came and went. The excited teens sat at their usual table in the kitchen, chatting, and reconnecting. The adults stared in confusion, wondering what the teens could be so excited about. Before the adults could retire to the med bay, Liz and Allie stood up and met the adults at the door. Allie spoke as Liz covered her mouth to keep the gelatinous pink blob in her mouth. Together, the pair led the adults sans Shiro and Kenny to the floor below the main. 

The huge space was dark, smelled of dust, and seemed empty until Liz pulled the light switch. The bright white walls blinded them at first, but the orange stripes, digital keypads, and metal archways came into view as their eyes settled. They kept the power off on the majority of the ship to conserve power, and with more people on board, Keith had graduated to his room. If he wanted. Since they had found his wife. The floor lit up hall by hall until there was nowhere for the shadows to hide. The matching metal archways stood in the mouth of the hallways, with another in between the entries. As Allie led them to the closest hallway, Liz set herself on shutting the hall from the rest of the floor. Pidge and Keith took one room and Hunk took the room across from theirs. With that, Allie turned off the lights in the other rooms and quickly ran to Hunk. The girls helped them take the old sheets from their beds, lift and secure fallen furniture, even advised where to position the beds in case of an attack. Hunk followed the advice, while Keith and Pidge chose not to. 

Whatever. Preferences. 

Hunk asked about meals and how that would work, while Keith asked if relinquishing control was going to be a common thing. Allie explained the digital keypad on the wall and how its neutral position is a clock, while Liz stated the Colonel would inform them of the schedule when it was finalized and cleared with the team. One was sweet and accommodating and the other was the epitome of professionalism. Together, the girls rode up to the main floor and left the adults to settle in. Kenny was the first to find them, ushering them into the bridge. 

He stood on the floor with hands on his hips, meeting each of the smiling paladins' eyes. He then announced his idea. An idea he has had stewing for several days, and now it's time to take it off the stove. The reactions were different brands of confusion, but it was confusion nonetheless. 

"What?" Kova asked, hoping Kenny would clarify. 

"Reform the Galactic Coalition," Kenny repeated. "We don't have any info on Yorak, the model of that ship is still rendering, and there is nothing else to do." Kova gave a little pout, probably wondering why she didn't think of that. Caleb raised his hands in a 'Are you serious?' gesture, dropping to them to rest on his console desk. 

"Reform it?" Caleb asked. "How, exactly?"

"Well, we could probably—"

"Along with that, we're kids!" Caleb had clapped his hands together, grabbing Kova's attention. "What do we know about inter-space politics?" 

"Um," Allie turned her chair so she could look up at Caleb. "Are you serious?" Her soft voice traveled to the other members who stared at Caleb. 

"I don't know. Kova?" Liz looked from Caleb to Kova, who stared at her brother. 

"Unfortunately, he is." 

"What?" 

"'What do we know about interspace politics?'" Kova muttered to herself, putting her head down. Caleb looked from Kova to Kenny, hoping to get some sort of explanation. Kenny shrugged his shoulders. 

"Kova, what?" She looked up with bored eyes and pushed herself up. 

"Allura has studied under the ruler, the diplomat, and the medical staff of Altea since she could write. Cake has apprenticed under and learned the customs of different chefs, bakers, and staff that have worked for his father since he could walk." The pair in question stared at Caleb pointedly as Kova spoke. "Not to mention, your sister has been interacting with diplomats since she was born." Her arms had changed from being leaned for support to supporting her head with a fist while her other hand counted out the experienced members of the new Team Voltron. 

"I get it!" Caleb held up a hand in surrender, hoping Kova would stop. She did not. 

"If that wasn't enough, Dad also had to play diplomat for several years before, during, and after the Great War for the universe. Oh, and he helped /create/ the Galactic Coalition in the first place." The bridge fell silent, waiting for Caleb's response. 

"So we should be blaming Dad for this?" 

"He got the point," Kova announced, standing up. The other members turned their chairs and heads forward to Kenny and the now activated screen behind him. "What are we thinking, Ken?"

"I'm thinking Daibaazaal since they're Galra. Not to mention they're probably battle-ready." 

"We already have Daibaazaal support," Kova said much too quickly. "Who's next?" 

"Oh, uh," Kenny tripped over his words. "Altea, then." 

"They're behind us," Allie said, typing on her screen. A long-distance chat box appeared on the larger screen, with the sender labeled 'Blue' and the recipient 'Romelle'. The exchange proved what Allie had said, with Romelle promising troops if Voltron could prove its existence. 

"I don't have proof, but I can guarantee it," Kova said, grabbing Kenny's attention. On the tablet he had stolen from the Colonel, he drew a large T-chart. On the left, he wrote 'With' and on the right, 'Without'. In the left column, he wrote Earth, Daibaazaal, and Altea and moved down the list of planets and star systems. Allie removed her chatbox and listened intently. 

"Is Naxzela still under Galra rule?" 

"I wouldn't count on it." 

"Puig?"

"Has their top layer reformed?" Cake asked, earning him a stare or two from the other paladins. "When they joined the Coalition, their acidic planet was shedding its crust. Did their crust reform or are they still living on their moon?" 

"Liz, put that on our itinerary." 

"We don't have one, but I'll start one." Liz began typing away as they continued down the list. Kenny had placed a question mark beside Daibaazaal, but no other planets were added onto the list. The three planets remained. The teens searched through maps until they ran out of resources. By then, it was time to sleep. One by one, the teens wished each other good night and retreated to their rooms. Kova stayed up, staring at the large map.

There was nothing to warn her about the hand that came to rest on her shoulder. It was much smaller than Shiro's or Caleb's. The former Paladins should've already gone to bed by the time the teens finished up on the bridge. 

Kova felt as though her reaction was justified. 

Taking the stranger's wrist in her hand, Kova spun around and hooked her right leg around the stranger's left, knocking them off balance while striking them in the face. As the intruder fell on the floor, Kova quickly pulled her knife and held it against the intruder's throat. 

"What did you expect?" Kova muttered, more annoyed than angry. Krolia lay still underneath her, looking at the knife in Kova's hand. The blade hadn't elongated, but the purple symbol on its hilt wasn't hidden in any way. 

"I thought I would have more of a 'Thank you'," Krolia said, now meeting Kova's eyes. "Especially from my granddaughter." Kova scoffed, pulled Krolia off the ground a few inches before shoving back to the ground. Kova stood up in the process, sheathing her blade. 

"Leave." Kova turned to face her console, shutting the screen. The lights remained dimmed, but Krolia only stood from her place on the floor. Kova could feel Krolia's eyes stare into the back of her head, hoping she'd turn around. 

"Let me explain myself first." Another scoff from Kova. To her, what was there to explain? She already knew. Kova mumbled something under her breath. Krolia stepped forward, hoping to hear Kova repeat it. Instead, Kova turned her head so fast, her braid flew onto her left shoulder. Kova's bright eyes met Krolia's purple and yellow ones. 

"'Too young for a battlefield.'" Kova watched as Krolia's eyes widened. She remembered. "I never blamed you. You were fighting the beginnings of a war and I was too young for a battlefield."  

"Kyla," Krolia said, stepping forward. She stopped, looking angry with herself. "Kova." 

"Kova, what's going on?" Caleb said, half-asleep. He was rubbing his eyes. When he saw Krolia, he rushed and tackled her to the ground, much to Krolia's surprise. "Get Dad!" 

"Caleb, it's fine." Kova crossed her arms, staring at the teen on top of Krolia's back and holding her arms. 

"How did she even get on the ship?" Caleb asked, not taking his eyes off Krolia. "Dad!" He shouted, noticing Kova's lack of movement. 

"What happened? What's wrong?" Shiro yelled, rushing into the bridge, activating the lights. Kova had stepped back, leaning on the railing. Caleb was pinning Krolia down, and Krolia was wiggling, trying to gain an upper hand on Caleb. Wait, Krolia?

"Hello, Colonel." Krolia greeted. "I'd shake your hand, but I'm preoccupied at the moment." 

"Kova." 

"I'll explain in a minute." Shiro sighed, marching over to drag Caleb off the Galra. Krolia stood, stretching her arms as Caleb got seated on the floor several feet away. 

"Krolia, what are you doing here?" Shiro asked, looking between Krolia and Kova. 

"Just came to deliver an update on the Galtean colonies," Krolia said, handing a holoscreen to Kova. Kova took the screen without hesitation, looking through the information. "I also came to check-up on my granddaughter and her adventures." 

"How did you even know we were here?"

"This is, what?" Kova looked up to look at Krolia. "The third time you snuck onto the ship?" 

"Give or take." 

"Third?" Shiro looked incredulous, angry, and confused. Poor thing. 

"The first time was back on Senfama, when Darrar went missing and the power went out." Kova looked between Shiro and Caleb, who had finally stood up from his quiet fit. "She broke Darrar out and cut the wires, which you still owe me for. Electrical tape isn't going to last forever." 

"I know, Kovalia." Krolia raised an eyebrow at the teen, and met Shiro's gaze. "Darrar was the highest ranking spy in Yorak's circle, so when he was given command of Seklok's ship, he came straight to you." 

Shiro didn't say anything, processing the information. It would make sense to have spies within the Fire. At the first opportunity, Darrar tried reaching out to be met with adversity from the team. 

"When was the second time?" Caleb asked, staring at Kova. 

"The night before the mission to retrieve the Black Lion." 

"What." Poor dear deadpanned. 

"It was the only way I got as far as I did." Kova looked up again, putting the holoscreen in her hoodie pocket. "Krolia gave me a couple of keywords and phrases that the spies used to communicate with each other. They could've warned me about the bots with handguns, though."

"They're a new creation, only used on cargo ships," Krolia explained, hands on her hip. "Besides, I heard you handled yourself well." 

"What are the cargo ships carrying? Do you know?" Shiro asked, to a shake of Krolia's head. 

"No one can get a close enough look of the prisoners to see."

"Prisoners?" 

"Yes, from the Galtean colonies." Both Krolia and Shiro turned to Kova, who shrugged. 

"There's coordinate points and a still-active tracker." With a heavy sigh, Shiro's shoulders sagged. Even if he wasn't carrying an under-trained team, he was still supervising a new Voltron team. With a giant courseload attached. Fun. 

"We'll take a look at that in the morning," Shiro said, turning from Kova to Caleb. "Have Griffin check on the status of the ship from the cargo shipwreck." Caleb nodded as Shiro turned from Caleb to Krolia. "I'd offer you a bed, but I imagine you have somewhere to be." 

"Yorak has been trying to trap Kolivan and me for years, and the only we've managed is by moving around." Krolia bent down to pick up her helmet, which had rolled away in the chaos from earlier. "Kovalia, I hope that one day we can sit down and talk." 

"One day," Kova replied, watching as Krolia walked out. The Shiroganes stayed silent for a few minutes. Shiro walked out first, heading to bed. The teens couldn't blame him. They were tired just thinking about tomorrow. Caleb and Kova walked each other to their rooms, staying side-by-side until they arrived. 

"Hey, Kova?" Caleb said, his voice almost a whisper. 

"Yeah?" came Kova's reply. 

"Do you believe her?" The silence filled the space for a moment. "About sitting down and talking?" 

"Yeah." Kova turned to look at Caleb, or at least, the general direction of where Caleb could be. "She tried, but she put the universe over her family. We'd do the same." In the dark, Caleb nodded his head, opening his door. 

"Goodnight Ky." The door closed him, leaving Kova alone in the darkness and quiet. She padded into her room, shutting the door behind her. 

Instead of being a sane person and sleeping, Kova sat on her bed after putting on her pajamas. The holoscreen Krolia had given her rested on a low nightstand next to the door, her hoodie rested on the back of a chair, and the only light in the room came from the steaming bathroom across from Kova's bed. Pulling out the matching tablet to the one Shiro was given, Kova pulled up her folder. 'KHKH' the folder was labeled, and anyone's guess what it could've meant. 

To Kova, it was her entire life in a digital folder. 

Opening the folder with a heavy sigh, Kova watched the tablet load its contents. Several documents, pictures, and two video files appeared. Kova had the documents almost memorized. They were grade checks, performance reviews, and scans of paper essays she wrote before thirteen years old. The performance reviews were stunning, while the grade checks belonged to the laziest student. The teachers used to fail her without checking her work. With a rueful smile, Kova read through the extensive notes one particular teacher left. Mrs. Donovan had taught not one, not two, but three Koganes in her class over her tenure at the Garrison. She held a distaste of Keith, vaguely remembering the way he would turn to look at the window and fight with her prized student. After his success, she tried to turn a new leaf with TJ, but when he also dropped out of the Garrison, it was clear: A Kogane never succeeds. 

Mrs. Donovan taught basic arithmetic to junior cadets, so when Kyla Kogane appeared in her classroom next to her eventual prized student of the year, she took it upon herself to show everyone the girl didn't belong anywhere. How was she supposed to know that she was well-protected under Captain Shirogane and Ambassador McClain? 

Kova laughed as she remembered the shocked face of Mrs. Donovan when Aunt Veronica demanded to know why she, with classwork worthy of an A, was sitting in a classroom by herself while the rest of her class took the preliminary flying test every student was required to take. Kova and Caleb were quickly switched out and at the end of the year, Mrs. Donovan retired. Whether she already planned it or Aunt Veronica sped it up, no one but Aunt Veronica and Mrs. Donovan knew. 

The pictures in her file were of little Kova in various outfits for official Garrison functions. 

One was a still of Caleb and Kova on a hoverbike they stole. It was days, maybe a week before they were about to enter the Garrison as senior cadets. Kova drove the hoverbike, bringing it to a still while Caleb hung onto her waist for dear life. It was just before they stopped, sand and dust flying forward and around them. Caleb held up an arm to block the sand from getting in Kova's eyes, while she focused on stopping. The still could've been a portrait and Kova wouldn't have been able to tell the difference. There were others, with the teens wearing either their cadet uniforms or matching black and white clothes. 

One of the latter photographs held Caleb with his arms around Kova's shoulders, wearing a black button-up under a white dress coat. Kova wore something similar, a black dress with a short white coat. Her hair had been styled in a high ponytail with a purple ribbon tied in a pretty bow. Caleb, Pops and Dad wore purple handkerchiefs in their breast pockets, but you wouldn't be able to tell from looking at the picture. They both looked at the camera with shining eyes and big smiles. That was the night Dad got promoted to Colonel and officially took the role as Headmaster of the Garrison. 

As Kova sunk lower into her bed, losing her battle with sleep, she stared at the video files. She never pressed on them, never opened them. Not that night. One was labeled 'Kyla's Life', and she had yet to see it. It was password-protected, so she couldn't even if she wanted to. The other, she had sworn she'd never watch again. She slept with the happy memories dancing in her mind, keeping her thoughts away from the other video file and its title.

Not again, she promised. Never again

[spoon-writes]

Ends of the Earth | Chapter 10

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Pairing: Mando x OC

Read on FFN or AO3

Summary: When Sinead's husband is ripped from her, she escapes the Hutt Empire and goes on a quest to find him. Since being a runaway slave in the Outer Rim isn't exactly easy, she makes the Mandalorian an offer he can't refuse and soon they travel across the galaxy, looking for her missing husband.

Chapter index

Chapter 10 - Search and Rescue

Life was waking between the boulders in preparation for the coming dawn. A colorful lizard darted across the warming rocks, freezing for a moment when it saw Sinead and the Mandalorian before disappearing behind a tuft of coarse grass that grew from cracks in the stone. A small, shrunken tree clung to an outcropping with purple leaves rustling in the wind. The trunk was black, making it look charred and wholly out of place amidst the white rocks.

A small avalanche of pebbles followed them downwards. Sinead tried keeping an eye out for any sign of Mirian but she really had no clue what to look for. As they ran, a sound of rushing water grew louder and louder, echoing between the rock walls. More trees and shrubs appeared growing from whatever dirt they could find.

They rounded a corner and stopped in front of a frothing river that cut through their path. White water splashed over rocks that broke through the water, creating wild eddies that pulled whatever had the misfortune of landing in the water into a wild spin. Mirian was stupid, but not stupid enough to try to cross. If she had so much as stepped a foot in the river she’d been swept away, to either drown on the bottom or be crushed against the rocks.

Two logs made a narrow bridge across the rushing water. The ends sank into the banks on each side and the wood was covered in slimy algae.

Sinead went first on the bridge. Her feet slid on the wet wood, and she breathed deeply through her nose, keeping her eyes locked on the opposite bank, which suddenly seemed miles away. Ice cold spray hit her face, keeping her grounded. Water washed over the bridge, soaking through her boots.

On the other side of the river the ground was soggy and clear footprints led further south. There was more vegetation here and signs of animal life.

Suddenly, the trees and the rocks fell away like someone had plucked them from the ground. Mando and Sinead stood at the edge of a patchwork of fields that stretched as far as the eye could see. Ancient stone dikes carved up every field, white stone glowing in the pre-dawn light.

The settlement nestled into a bend in the river, a dark spot in the green landscape where thin wisps of smoke disappeared up into the morning air. Two dirt roads led out of the city, one going across the river and disappearing east and the other carving through the fields to the west.

“If I was a young girl desperate to prove myself,” Sinead said and wiped some sweat from her brow, “I’d start by finding the nearest town.”

"There'll be guards."

“It’s bound to be more exciting than wandering the wild.”

Mando’s looked up at the brightening sky. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” he said with a hollow voice. “Let’s just keep out of sight.” He didn’t need to tell Sinead that. She could blend into most crowds- her survival depended on it- but the Mandalorian stood out everywhere he went.

They started towards the settlement. Knee-high stalks still wet with dew ran in straight lines and the air was filled with a sweet earthy scent. Stiles that looked as old as the stone dikes made their way across the fields a bit easier.

The settlement was bordered by farmhouses, low buildings made of white rock that had turned grey by dirt. A herd of big, hairy creatures watched Mando and Sinead with drooping eyes.

The houses grew closer after the first couple of streets, turning from dirt roads into uneven cobblestone. It smelled of woodsmoke, and Sinead could hear people inside the houses moving around, but the streets were still empty.

Suddenly, Mando froze and gestured to Sinead to get down. She barely had time to duck behind a pile of damp firewood before two black-clad figures strolled down the street, two rifles swinging from their arms.

“Can’t believe Commander Rancor-Dick has stationed us out here in the ass-end of nowhere,” said one of the men.

“Ranick’s always been a tightass, but this shit’s made him bloody paranoid. Ain’t like anyone’s gonna storm a place like this.” The other figure rolled up his mask and spat on the logs. Sinead made a face.

“Kriffin’ idiot.”

They waited until the guards were out of earshot before moving carefully down the street.

“Look,” Mando said and stopped in front of a wall covered with peeling and sun-bleached posters. “Gatt said the Collective keeps a tight hold on the planet.”

“Explains why the streets are empty,” Sinead said. The word ‘curfew’ screamed out at her in angry red letters.

They continued onwards, keeping to the shadows. Many of the houses were dark and abandoned and broken glass or trash littering the streets. They passed the burnt-out remains of a house, a dark husk of charred beams and crumbling outer walls. Foliage had begun to encroach between the rubble.

They reached a wide street. Mando went first, crossing the lit street and ducking into a narrow alley on the other side. Sinead waited until he was safely out of the light before following him.

“Hey you!”

She froze fight or flight instincts rooting her to the spot in indecision before higher brain power resumed control and she turned and looked. A New Moon soldier stood at the end of the street. He was dressed in black like the two guards with a mask covering his face. There was an inexpertly painted white circle on his chest, the color running into the dark cloth. Most of her attention was drawn to the rifle he pointed directly at her, his finger hovering over the trigger. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Mando moved to step into the street.

“Stay back,” she hissed.

The soldier stepped closer. “Hey, I’m talking to you! There’s a curfew.”

Sinead looked at the ground and shuffled back. Her blaster burned in its holster. “I-I know that-“

“If you know that,” the soldier sneered, lowering his rifle an inch, “why aren’t you home with the other little dokmas, eh?” He reached for her. “Oi! Look at me when I’m-“

Mando darted out from the shadow and grabbed the guard, clamping a hand over his mouth and dragged him back into the alley. Sinead grabbed the soldier’s blaster rifle before it hit the ground. She followed them after casting a glance up and down the street.

Mando threw the soldier against the alley wall, using all his strength to keep him pinned. “A human girl,” he grunted, “have you seen her?”

The soldier’s eyes swiveled in their sockets and a muffled voice came out beneath Mando’s hand.

“Nod yes or no.”

The soldier shook his head as well as he could under Mando’s iron grip.

“Fuck.” Sinead shook her head and bit her bottom lip. What if Mirian hadn’t gone this way? What if she’d turned off and followed one of the roads or been swept away crossing the river?

Suddenly, the sound of marching feet made Sinead scramble farther into the darkness.

Mando grunted when the guard started squirming in his grip, eyes white in the darkness.

Sinead stepped forward and pressed the barrel of the rifle into the soft part of his stomach. “Don’t move,” she whispered.

Light flickered as four soldiers, dressed head to toe in black, marched down the street. One of them stopped at the mouth of the alley, an arm’s length from the trio hiding in the shadows. He stretched while scanning the area, holding his rifle loosely in one hand. Sinead held her breath.

“Oi! Tokker! Curfew’s about to end, we gotta get a move on,” came a shout from down the street.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming all right.” The guard hitched up his pants and disappeared from view.

There was a commotion behind her and she whirled around; the guard had gotten hold of a knife and struck it against Mando’s side where it was deflected by beskar, sparks lighting up the small space. Mando slammed into the guard, the knife sliding across beskar again.

Sinead rushed forward and grabbed the guard’s wrist, wrenching it back until there was an audible pop and his eyes went wide. The knife fell from his hand.

Mando grabbed it in the air and slammed it into the soldier’s throat, who slid slowly to the ground.

“You okay?” Sinead didn’t look at the corpse at their feet.

“Yeah,” Mando said, checking that his armor held up. “But we can’t stay here much longer. We need to get back to the ship.”

“I know, but we have to make sure she isn’t here.” Sinead didn’t want to imagine what Gatt would do if they returned sans her niece.

They followed the four guards, keeping to the smaller streets. The city was waking up with the sun; some of the shutters covering the small windows had been opened, showing sleep-weary people getting ready for the day.

Up ahead, the street opened up into a small square where narrow stalls clustered together in a seemingly random order and sun-faded lanterns hung low between rotted wooden poles; many of them had disintegrated, leaving behind a bare wire skeleton to sway in the breeze. The dark houses surrounding the square seemed to close in over the small space.

The four soldiers clustered around at the other end of the square, surrounding two figures laying curled up on the uneven ground. The biggest of the figures, an old man, hid his face in his cloak as blows from the soldiers rained down on him. The other smaller figure was likewise huddled on the ground, a shock of red hair making Sinead grab Mando by the shoulder.

"Mando-"

"I've seen her. Go right and distract them."

Sinead didn't stop to think. She ran along the right side of the square, the rifle heavy in her arms.

"Hey Tokker!"

The soldiers looked up.

"Who-"

A blaster bolt fizzled through the air and one of the men crumbled to the ground, a smoking hole in the middle of his chest.

Sinead stepped to the side as a blaster bolt hit the wall behind her, showering the ground with dust. She fired the rifle and the recoil punched a bruise into her shoulder. Another soldier let out a strangled cry and fell to the ground.

One guard jumped behind a flimsy stall while the last one started running, screaming into his comm-link. Sinead shot him in the back and sent him flying into a hand-drawn cart, flipping it over with a loud crash.

The last soldier fell backward with a smoking hole in his head.

Silence fell over the square. The old man carefully lifted his head.

“Get up,” Sinead said when she reached Mirian. She cast a worried look around. Someone was bound to have heard that.

The old man slunk away as Mando came running. “We gotta go,” he said, casting a glance behind him.

Sinead grabbed Mirian’s wrist and pulled her to her feet. Mirian didn’t complain but followed them as they ran for the nearest street leading out of the square.

A door opened and a human woman came out, taking one look at the trio before hurrying inside, slamming the door behind her.

They took a shortcut through a garden made up mostly of mud and weeds. Sinead kept glancing back, her ears prickled for any sign of guards coming their way. She threw the rifle into an uncovered well and pulled out her blaster. They stopped by a rain barrel and Sinead let out a deep breath.

Mirian’s face was streaked in dirt and she seemed to curl in on herself. “I didn’t mean to-“

Mando shushed her while Sinead hissed “quiet!”

There were shouts in the distance and the sound of heavy footfalls, a group of people moving down the street. There was a loud crash as a door was broken down and someone screamed.

They started running along a dilapidated fence until they found a gap big enough to squeeze through one after one. Raised voices came from a nearby house and something shattered.

Sinead was the first to head down a narrow alley, the sky only a sliver of light above her. Broken glass crunched under her feet. She could hear Mirian’s terrified breathing behind her.

A hulking figure appeared at the mouth of the alley. Sinead hit the ground, dragging Mirian down behind her.

A blaster bolt fizzled over her head and hit Mando in the chest, sending him stumbling back with a grunt.

Mirian screamed, her voice reverberated between the walls.

Suddenly, the alley was filled with blaster fire and howls of pain. Sinead got to her feet and squeezed the trigger. The figure fell to the ground but just as soon another took his place.

She threw herself to the side, colliding with the wall to avoid a blaster bolt.

The alley lit up in red again and again. The air smelled like ozone.

She stabbed the nearest dark figure, her knife getting twisted out of her hands as he fell.

Something collided with her back, sending her crashing to the ground. Broken glass cut into her skin as she twisted around and pushed the weight off her. The soldier rolled to the side, a trickle of blood seeping from his mouth.

She scrambled to get up when a boot connected with her ribs. Air left her lungs as she crashed into the ground, her mouth filling with dirty alley water.

Two meaty hands closed around her throat. A dark mask hovered above her, two red-tinted eyes glinting down at her. Putrid breath hit her face.

Her blaster was gone. She tore at his hands, but his grip grew stronger. Dark spots clouded her eyes.

There was a sickening thud and the soldier froze. He blinked once, blood flowing into his eyes.

He pitched forward. Sinead took a deep gulp of air and pushed him away.

Mirian stared at the board held raised in her hands. Her breath hitched.

The last soldier fell. The alley rang with silence.

Sinead got to her feet; broken glass tinkled as it fell from her tattered clothes.

“I-I didn’t mean to-“ Mirian tore her gaze from the bloody board to Sinead. Her chin quivered.

“No time,” Mando said, pulling Mirian to her feet in one fluid motion. “There are still more in the city.”

Sinead grabbed her blaster half pinned under a dead soldier, and they set into a sprint.

Sun broke over the horizon as they found a way out of the settlement. Stalks crunched under Sinead’s feet as she ran, breathing heavily through her nose. Her chest felt tight.

Mando helped Mirian over a stone dike where the stile had collapsed. Her hands had finally stopped shaking.

They were near the relative safety of the rocks which were painted golden in the early morning light, when Mando’s head snapped back to the settlement. “Get down,” he growled and threw himself flat against the ground.

Sinead and Mirian dove behind the nearest stone dike. Three speeder bikes shot out of the settlement, a tail of dust behind them. They followed the dirt road at breakneck speed.

Sinead held her breath as they passed. No one moved until the roar of the speeder bikes were gone.

“Do you think they’re looking for us?” Mirian’s voice shook as she grabbed the stone dike to haul herself to her feet.

“Just move,” grunted Mando, who kept an eye on the road as they hurried towards the mountain.

At last, they made it to the river. Sinead jumped on the bridge first, edging her way across. There wasn’t any sign of them being followed but still, she'd rather not stay for longer than strictly necessary.

Once her feet hit the ground on the other side of the river, a tiny bit of tension left her shoulders. A small strip of water wouldn’t be much of an obstacle for the Collective but it still felt better knowing there was something standing between her and the settlement.

Mirian scrambled down from the bridge, her eyes locked on the ground.

At last, the Mandalorian made his way across. Sinead could read the anger in his shoulders. Something hot and spiky unfurled in her stomach.

Mirian scraped the ground with the tip of her shoe. “I didn’t mean to-“

Mando and Sinead exploded at the same time.

“What the fuck were you thinking-“

“Do you realize what you’ve-“

“-of all the shortsighted, senseless-“

“-and for what? Being a-“

“-idiot girl, I hope your aunt locks you up in a goddamn cell if we ever get back, hopefully you won’t do any more harm from there.” Sinead’s face burned with anger.

Mirian looked at them with wide eyes, face frozen in fear or defeat.

Mando breathed heavily through his nose. “We go back to the ship. You don’t touch anything, you don’t say anything.” He stared Mirian down until she nodded.

Sinead rolled her shoulders, trying to reign back her anger. “Right. Let’s go.”

Sunlight glinted off the ship when they found their way back between the boulders. Suri walked in circles beside the open ramp, the child watching her solemnly from the opening. He was the first to notice them, babbling excitedly and waddling down the ramp.

Suri spun around, letting go of one of her lekkus. “You found her!”

The old man, Erno, came hurrying out of the ship. “You’re too late. The blockade is back online.”

“We know,” Mando grunted and grabbed the kid before he fell over in his haste to get to the Mandalorian.

“Place’ll be swarming with guards any minute. Is there anywhere we can go?” Sinead looked back the way they came. Maybe it was her imagination, but she thought she could hear raised voices.

Erno twirled his hat in his hands. “There are caves on the other side of the mountain. They ain’t easy to navigate even if you know the area. I might be able to find one you can hide out in.”

“And then we do what? We can’t stay there forever,” Sinead said.

“We can figure that out later. Now we just need to get out of here,” Mando said.

They piled into the ship. The wounded rebel was sleeping in the bunk.

“Don’t move a muscle,” Mando said to Mirian, who shrunk at the words. Sinead would feel bad for her if this wasn’t solely her fault.

Mando disappeared up the ladder with Erno, and the ship turned on with a shudder.

Sinead sat down on the floor with her back against the wall, her side was burning. “You think we’re gonna get out of here?”

Suri grimaced and wrapped her arms around herself in a tight hug. “I don’t know.”

<- Previous chapter - Next chapter ->

[hearts-hunger]

I’m Happy at Home || part three

Look on my masterlist for parts one and two!

Part Summary: As you start the drive home from the concert, you and John reflect on the way your lives have changed from Queen’s early days.

Pairings: John Deacon x Wife!Reader; dad!Deaky

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 2k (it’s a short one, sorry)

Warnings: None!

A/N: aaaAAHH I almost forgot to post this tonight!! I know you’ve all been hanging on the edge of your seat for the next installment, so I’m happy to deliver it with two minutes to spare. I hope you enjoy, and let me know what you think!

John held the dressing room door open for you and you crossed to where yours and Teddy’s jackets were draped over the back of the couch. You handed your already sleeping son to John in order to put your own coat on.

“Let me put his jacket on him,” you said.

“Oh, that’s ok,” John said, keeping his voice low. “He’s already got mine on, I don’t want to wake him.”

“You don’t want your jacket?” you asked.

John shrugged. “It’s not far to the car. I’ll be alright.”

As you often did, you felt a love for your husband that nearly took your breath away in its intensity. You draped Teddy’s small jacket over your arm and gave John a kiss.

“You’re a really good dad, John, you know that?” you said.

He smiled at you. “Only ‘cause I’ve got a really good mum helping me.”

His free hand found yours as you walked out of the dressing room together, heading the opposite way from the stage towards the back entrance of the arena and the parking garage. Snow fell gently onto the already-white streets outside the garage, the sounds of the departing crowd on the other side of the arena dulled by the otherwise quiet night. Your footsteps echoed as you made your way to the car you’d rented for your stay in Montreal.

You opened the door for him, getting in the front to start the car and get the heat running as John got Teddy into his car seat.

“Daddy?” Teddy said in a mild panic as John gently pried his arms from around his neck.

“Shh, it’s okay,” John soothed. “Just getting you in your car seat. It’s alright.”

Teddy nodded, snuggling further into John’s jacket as his head leaned against the side of the car seat. He was back asleep before John had even finished buckling him in.

“D’you want me to drive?” John asked you.

“That’s ok,” you said. You knew he was tired and had really only asked to be kind, not because he wanted to drive. You were perfectly happy to drive your two sleepy boys home.

“Besides,” you teased, “I’m the only one of us who’s actually driven on this side of the road.”

It had been ages, of course, but you’d learned to drive while you still lived in America and at least had a modicum of experience. John had managed to go his whole life, even through the international tours, without once driving on the right hand side of the road.

He chuckled. “Alright, Miss International, you’ve convinced me.”

He closed Teddy’s door and went around to the passenger seat, sighing heavily as he met the warm air pouring from the vents. He pressed his palm to the one nearest the door and let it warm up a little before rubbing his hands together.

“Here,” you said, handing him your jacket that you’d taken off, knowing it would quickly get too warm for you with both the heat and the winter coat on. He draped it over his chest, slouching in the seat.

“You’re an angel,” he said, closing his eyes as he leaned his head back. You smiled as you started the drive home, mentally working backwards from your drive into town earlier in the day. Though you normally didn’t travel with John and the boys on their international tours, especially now that Teddy was in the picture, you’d decided to make a bit of a vacation out of their weekend concert dates in Montreal. You’d lived in London since starting college there at Imperial in ‘71, but you’d grown up in Maine and had spent summers at your grandparents’ lake house in the mountains outside Montreal. It had been years since you’d been back, and with the lake house empty for the winter months and only a little over an hour away from the city Queen was slated to play for a two-concert weekend, you’d decided on a whim to fly over with them. “The family” - as the boys’ families were collectively and affectionately referred to among the road crew - only rarely got to go with the boys on their international trips, so it was a bit of a treat to be able to go with them for the weekend this time.

As you drove the ever-quieting streets out of the city, you noticed a faint but relentless tapping noise coming from the passenger side of the car. You frowned, wondering if something was wrong with the car, but as you looked over at your husband you quickly realized what it was.

“John,” you said.

He straightened and looked over at you, his foot never faltering in its tapping against the floor mat. “Hm?”

You couldn’t help a gentle smile. Most of the time he didn’t even realize he was doing it, and he’d made sure in the early days of your relationship that you knew you could always ask him to stop and he wouldn’t mind. “Tapping, baby.”

“Oh,” he said, stilling. He didn’t bother to apologize; you were allowed to ask him to stop and he was allowed to not apologize for something he couldn’t really help.

“You still feeling a little wired?” you asked.

He sighed. “Yeah. Can’t seem to settle.”

“Come here,” you said, patting your thigh. “Lay down and see if that helps.”

He gave a soft grunt as he stretched out as much as he could on the bench seat, resting his head in your lap and tucking your jacket tighter around him. “Don’t crash.”

You breathed a laugh. “I’ll try my best.”

You kept one hand on the wheel, comfortable with driving through the light snowfall, letting your other hand play with John’s soft curls. His breath was warm through the fabric of your jeans, and he ran his hand lightly up and down your shin, his touch soothing and slow.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said, his voice gentle. 

You brushed your fingers over his cheek. “Me too.”

“You’re everything to me, you know?” he said, his voice muffled as he lay against you. “You and Teddy, you’re... you’re absolutely everything to me. I don’t know how I get through being away from you for so long.”

Though he’d been home for a month, they’d just gotten off a long tour that ended in a catastrophic string of concerts in South America that went exactly opposite to plan and had driven even your easygoing husband to distraction. 

“Me either,” you admitted. “Habit, I guess.”

He huffed. “I don’t want to have that habit.”

You gave a soft laugh. “Neither do I. But this one’s not so bad, it’s just the weekend. One more tomorrow night, and then you’re home again.”

“Yeah, for how long?” he said. “We’re gonna make another album and then we’re gonna tour again and it’s gonna go on forever.”

You hand stilled in brushing his curls back from his face, a little concerned at the bitterness in his tone.

“Honey...” You bit your lip. “Is everything ok?”

He sighed. “Yeah,” he said apologetically. “I’m just tired.”

Tired from the concert, tired from the tour, tired from being away from his family for months on end. You could understand that, and you didn’t blame him for venting some frustration.

“Sorry,” he ventured after a moment. “You’re just as affected by the tour as I am, and you’ve been nothing but cheerful.”

You felt a wry smile surface. “Maybe today, but I’ve had plenty of days where I was at my wit’s end about it. It’s ok to be frustrated with it, John. I don’t mind. You can talk about it if you want.”

He drew a deep breath as he turned onto his back, running his hand over his face. His wedding ring caught the pale light of the half-moon outside the window, giving a dull glint with his movements.

“Is this what you thought it would be like?” he asked.

You rested your hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat, strong and steady as it always was. “What do you mean?”

He sighed. “Y’know,” he said, gesturing vaguely. “This. Being married to me. Having your life run by a band you didn’t even think was going anywhere when you first met us.”

“John Richard Deacon,” you said with a laugh. “I never said you weren’t going anywhere. In fact, I knew the first time I saw you play that you’d be famous.”

“Couldn’t have,” he said, though you could hear the teasing in his voice. “We didn’t even know what we were doing half the time.”

You shook your head. “Queen has always had that something special,” you said. “You were always going to be famous. You were always going to be international stars. You just had to find your footing first.”

He smiled. “Well, at least someone’s believed in us from the beginning,” he said. Then, after a moment, “But you must have pictured our life a bit differently back then, right? I mean, when I asked you to marry me, you weren’t saying yes to a member of the internationally famous band Queen. You were saying yes to an engineering student who played bass with his mates on weekends.”

You smiled fondly as you thought of that lanky young man, that shy nineteen-year-old with an unfamiliar accent and the sweetest grin you’d ever seen. You were in love with him the moment you met him, doing your homework during your friends’ band practice. That boy with soft brown curls who spoke louder on bass than he ever did with his own voice had won your heart with his first smile at you, introducing himself with his full name.

But as much as you loved that boy, you also loved the way John had changed over the years into the man he was now. Your husband, the father of your child, the bassist for one of the most famous bands worldwide. Steadier and more confident, wiser and only made kinder by the harshness of the world. You loved the changes the years had made in him, and you loved the changes your life had gone through from that spring day at Imperial College ten years ago. 

“It’s a bit mad, isn’t it?” he asked softly, entwining his fingers with yours. “It’s nothing like I thought it would be.”

You ran your thumb over his knuckles. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” he said. “No, I don’t think so. We’ve had a good life, haven’t we? We’ve traveled and met interesting people and we have the three best mates anyone could ask for. We made a beautiful little boy. We’ve gone to some wild parties and had fantastic sex in dressing rooms of dozens of cities.”

You laughed. “Yeah, that probably wouldn’t have happened if we lived in a cottage in Leicestershire and you worked a blue-collar job, now would it?”

“Ah, we would have found ways to spice things up, don’t you think?” he teased.

You smirked. You had no doubt that the two of you would have had as adventurous a sex life even if you’d ended up living quietly in the countryside.

“Sorry we didn’t get to mess around backstage,” he said, somewhat teasingly. Then, sobering, “I just wanted to be someplace quiet with you. Tours and concerts are always such a constant rush. I just... I dunno, wanted to be... like this, I guess.”

You softened as he brought your hand to his mouth and gently kissed your fingers. “I love being like this with you, John. It’s what I miss the most when you’re gone.”

He chuckled softly. “Yeah, that first cup of tea gets pretty lonely, doesn’t it? Even over the phone, it’s not the same.”

Your first “date” had been tea at Brian’s flat a week or so after John auditioned for Queen; he had come to go over a few things with Brian before the show that night. He wanted to get everything perfect but was shy about asking for help during rehearsals, especially in front of the cocky drummer who loved to take the mickey out of anybody, including his bandmates, be they old friends or brand-new members who weren’t familiar with Roger’s way of showing affection. Brian, sensing this, had kindly suggested that John come round to his flat in the morning, where they could work through whatever John wanted. 

You smiled to yourself at the memory, letting your mind wander to that morning over a decade ago.

Read part four!

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let me know if you’d like to be added to either!

[the-salamanders-xo]

Humans Are Space Orcs: A Mash Up

My first post has over 300 notes, and given I have like, 9 followers (hiya peeps!), that's great. Gonna try for a short (ish) story thats been rattling around my head for a bit, see how it works out.

This may have several parts, so hold on to ya butts!

~~~

Karry huddled in the corner of the cramped compartment in which she had spent all too long. Outside the sealed doors the drag of inhuman feet drifted and echoed through the vast emptiness of the ship, and she knew from painful experience that very, very few of their owners where friendly.

Only a few days before she had emerged from relative safety to seek water and food, driven by the pains in her belly and brain and the instinct to survive. Food and water had been found, but so had the owners of those echoing noises.

The ship, once the palace-ship of some Collector's race, stuffed with samples of riches and flora and fauna of a thousand worlds, now in a period of weeks reduced to drifting wreckage, the original owner's bridge their tomb.

They had picked her up in the alley of some trash-strewn city on Earth, half frozen and starved, a homeless urchin of the streets and suburbs. At first she was grateful to be saved from certain death, but gratitude soon soured to resentment as she realized that they had no intention to let her go her own way.

She did not know what had caused the other prisoners to burst their bounds, or even what had allowed them to. Only that the ship had shuddered, the lights dimmed to near darkness, and no food or water had ever made their way to her small prison.

When hunger drove her out to search for necessities, the skills and habits learned from life on the streets served her well. Hiding in the shadows, listening to the sounds of the new rulers of the ship as the restlessly patrolled, and memorizing the way back to her sanctuary, it was four days before she saw her first true alien.

It was a corridor ripped and shredded by something Karry couldn't have even guessed at. Pipes and wires were exposed, and foam hardened by air marked where emergency systems had detected atmosphere leaks and engaged automatically.

She carefully contorted herself to avoid the wires and jagged metal shards, and so deep was her concentration that she almost didn't hear the sibilant hiss of the striking predator before it struck.

A sticky tongue of yellow and purple shot from the darkness of a section of enlightened corridor, catching the corner of her eye, and she twisted her head painfully to avoid the spikes and barbs that coated it's slimy membrane. It caught on a fallen plate of alloy, and pulled back with savage speed. The plate flew with it, whipping around and cracking against Karry's temple with a dull thud, spinning her to the deck. She fumbled for a handhold as she lost her footing and her vision with the blow, pulling a length of pipe from the wall with a groan.

Through tears of pain, her fingers cupping the side of her head, and the blood that began flowing sluggishly from beneath her hand, she saw the creature begin. To glow a sickly phosphorescent green as it crawled from hiding. Its glow revealed what remained of what ever victims it had already claimed as the metal plate dropped to its previous meals, great shells of keratin or bones and skulls from nothing Karry recognized. The alien, a great purple gelatinous mass of limbs and glowing organs, opened a great wide maw to strike at her again.

She raised her arm to protect herself, and the tongue struck the up raised long like a bat. Spines and barbs penetrated the thin jumpsuit she wore and into her flesh, binding and searing, before dragging her back towards a hungry maw. Her right arm clung to the bent pipe in the wall with desperate strength, even as she screamed from fear and pain and surprise and oh Lord the Pain! Adrenaline courses through her veins as the barbs tore and ripped her skin, and some sick venom poured I to her blood. The tongue lost it's grip just as the pipe separated from the wall with a loud clang, and Karry scrambled up from the deck to flee, swinging the pipe as a staff to part the wires.

In the corner of her eye the creature seemed to pause and it's light dim, and for a second she thought it would give up on her, but it's wide mouth opened again and it shot the tongue out again. This time it caught her foot, throwing her to the deck like a sack of potatoes and dragging her back toward the horror.

Twisting around she tried to hit the thing's appendage with the pipe, in hopes of releasing herself from it, but it did not seem to noticed her panic filled blows. With no other option, she kept swinging and a scream she later realized came from her echoed down the corridor. The pipe clanged against the deck again in her struggle, and again the creature lost it's grip on her and it's light dimmed. Now it was but a silhouette in the shadow, and Karry's brain connected the dots.

Sound. Sound was her key to escape.

Slamming her weapon to the deck, the metallic clang of sound definitely produced a reaction. The creature dimmed more, until only the cavernous mouth with it's sickly tongue could be seen retreating.

She struck the deck again and it retreated farther back. She slowly limped back the way she had came, blood and pain making her footing uncertain, but the metal pipe and it's noise kept the thing at bay.

Rounding the corner she hurried as best she could back to her small compartment, to the jury-rigged lock and door she had pried open in search of water and food, every sound and vibration making her freeze in place. Finally reaching safety, she collapsed against the sealed door, as panicked strength and wet tears dripped from her like rain. She didn't know how long she lay there, but when she finally stood, she nearly fell again from the pain.

The barbs and venom of the tongue had tore deep into her left arm and foot, and for a few terrifying moments after she had torn off strips from her suit and bound them over the wounds and the continued to bleed she thought she would die then and there from the loss of blood. But sure enough, the blood flow slowed and she slowly slumped against the bulkhead, too tired to even drag her self the few feet to the flat hard bed in the compartment. There she sat, silent tears of pain and fear, the fear of dying alone and far, oh so very far, from the only home she had ever know. Silently those tears fell, but before long they were joined with real sobs, the first sound besides panicked screams and pained breaths she had made since who knew when, before consciousness faded and she slumped down in sleep.

~~~

When the ship had been built, it was designed purely for the comfort and pleasure of its possessors. Denizens of a dying world, rich beyond measure and proud, so sickly proud of their race's superiority, they sought not only to escape the pull of the entropy of their civilization, but to deny such a thing had ever occurred. They wanted comfort, their bread and circuses, and so they fled.

At every world they came across, they stole a piece. A citizen, a gem, a new pet to amuse them, in their arrogance they did as they pleased, forever fleeing and denying their flight.

This was their end.

They made the mistake of abducting the four alien troops on a lonely outpost on an equally lonely moon, soldiers and warriors of a 'empire'. They laughed at the thought; how could something named a Klingon presume such?

When those Klingons voiced their objection to their imprisonment, they laughed. The second time, their so-called playthings did not give them the chance to do so again. They stormed the bridge, and decadent as they were they fought to the last, slain for their insult, the last of a meaningless breed. There, too, the Klingons perished, satisfied with their honorable deaths and in their revenge.

But as the automated systems remained. As parts and section walls failed, killing vital components and releasing the former playthings, the ship dropped out of its FTL drive. It drifted through the interstellar medium at a velocity humanity could never have dreamed of seeing, making Karry the first human to have traveled at anything close to relativistic speeds.

But no ship, however expensive or vast, nor the importance of purpose or lack thereof, is immune to physics. In the weeks after, eventually it began to pass through the very edges of a star system, and even in the vastness of space collisions happen.

~~~

An acrid smell wafted through the compartment, accompanied with a guttural language whose sharp tones pulled at Karry's ears. Bright lights instantly illuminated her face with unbearable intensity, and she blinked up at them.

"W-what? Who's there, what do you want?"

The ceiling chirped, and the voice spoke again. "Language verified: Terran, Eng-leesh. Repeating message. Attention all occupants: collision imminent. Please enter your designated crash-couch or rest-zone immediately. This is not a drill."

The ceiling chirped again as the voice, computerized and cold, fell silent, and the wall dislodged a panel, tilting down and opening. A bed, or something like it, like a tube or giant pipe. For a minute or two, Karry just stared, until the chirps came again.

"Please enter the rest-zone." The voice, now sounding slightly impatient, jarred her from her daze. Limping to the now-open capsule, she swung her injured leg up and in, laying herself down on the foam pad. She lay there for a moment.

"So, now wha-" Midway into her sentence, a sleeve of some rubber-plastic material for itself over her uninjured arm, and from the bottom of the enclosed space an amber gel spurted up, starting to enclose her legs and lower torso. "What?! Hey, the hell is going on? What is this stuff?"

A different voice, slightly deeper and slower, answered.

"Please remain calm. You are being monitored for elevated stress levels. To prevent injury, an anti-ballistic gel solution will enclose sufficient body mass to secure you. Do not be alarmed."

"Oh, right" Karry snapped. "Like being abducted, fighting off goo monsters, and being trapped in a coffin is going to do anything else!"

Silence ensued. Then:

"Medical scans indicate toxins in your system. Suggest immediate medical care. To stabilize your condition until such can be provided, you will be injected with a universal neutralizing agent."

Karry pounded her fist against the glass 'view plate' above her head. "How about no? Does that stuff even work on me? You're aliens! Or, maybe I am, but whatever!" She slammed the glass again. "Don't just pump me full of that crap!"

What ever it was, the computer charged with her medical care didn't seem to listen. The sleeve around her arm tightened, and a sharp prick told her that it was indeed injecting the agent. All she could do was fine in silence. The silence stretched on and on, with occasional chirps from the computer and a growing sense of dread. Imminent collision? What the heck was going on? Obviously no one was really controlling the ship anymore, it must be on autopilot or something.

And if they hadn't hit anything by now just how far away was this collision? Why hadn't it happened yet?

Every moment was a torment, but what came next was even worse.

"Attention," the computer said. "Collision in t-minus 30 seconds. Cyro-freeze initiated.” Karry felt sudden heat and cold flow from the sleeve and the needles jabbed beneath her skin, and the air was pumped out. 

“Wait, I can’t breathe-” The air left her lungs, just after the various compounds and chemicals flooded her system, shutting down every organ and microbe. Still trying to shout and pounding at the glass, Karry was left a statue frozen in cold-hardened gel, nervous signals frozen.

~~~

Moments after the ship wide shutdown, the ship and comet collided. Both were fragmented upon impact, shards of hull plating and chunks of icy rock scattered into the void. Karry’s compartment was left open to space, peeled like a fruit by the explosive decompression, and Karry’s unwilling refuge only meters away from cold space. 

There she floated, moving faster than most anything Man had ever flown, almost halfway to light speed, for how long she would not know...

Until the wreckage eventually found its way into another distant solar system, and the automatic distress beacons in her pod were heard by a lonely soldier among the stars.

~~~

So ends Part 1. My first try at sharing something of my story telling with someone besides a sibling, I hope it works just as well outside my head as in.

This will cross into Star Trek, mostly the DS9 and Next Generation stuff, and I’ll be trying to put in some stuff I’ve seen in other fiction. None of this is meant to violate copyright, it’s just fanfic and my mental musings, so hopefully this covers my butt if any lawyers come calling. 

Next part should be up within the month, so like, share and reblog if you like, cause that is my best motivation here. 

[kingbxsil]

BAZARI presents:

A doctor, an assassin and a florist enter a bar (actually it is an abandoned library)...

The florist was the last one to arrive. His dirty fingers held from the chipped edges of the entrance, the splinters laying down with an unnoticeable purr at the feeling of a fellow plant stopping by. Zachary Coltraine was no plant, no animal, but his constant interaction with nature had injected some of this green vitality into his soul, gifting him a green thumb and an uncanny ability to take care of animals.

“I’m so sorry, the shop closed late today”, he apologized, but with such a bright smile, it wasn’t even needed; he had charm, lots of it, his friends had pointed it out more than once; he was the only one who could get the sun to smile back at him, while the only things they got from the star were old curses. They were best friends with the Moon. Zach was the youngest and tallest, yet, his steps were the quiet ones. His body moved theatrically with no effort as his muscles showed off with any slight action. He liked to stay fit, that was obvious, but not because of common purposes, he liked to stay fit to fulfill the role his parents gifted him at birth: The Lost Prince, Michelangelo’s David, a muse. Even his hair seemed to cooperate, no matter what he did to it, his soft curls always fell poetically on his forehead. “You could be Superman”, he once heard. At first glance he looked human, but if you dared to keep your eyes on him more than a couple of seconds, then you would realize that within his humanity, there was something else, an otherworldly aura that made your throat dry and your stomach flutter. Zachary was dangerously alluring and you didn’t know why.

                                                                        It was the same with the other two.

Pebbles complained as Basil King shifts the weight from one foot to another. The brown worn-out leather of his jacket tensed as he crossed his arms, a gesture practically owned by this boy. Icy blue eyes shot a piercing, yet rather friendly stare to the animal lover that just had made his way into the old library. An attempt of a smile shows up on his lips, but there is no stimuli enough to provoke a full grin.

“You aren’t late”, those are his only words for now and those are the only words needed for the construction to mimic his short sentence with an imposing echo. The other two looked around in awe, a smile showing up on the third friend (yet to introduce). The boys liked to hang out in places like this one, where both time and space seemed frozen and eternal. It was Basil’s idea, probably it had to do with the (totally 100% proven) fact that there was some connection between him and the dusty abandoned buildings. As far as they knew, the second boy, who was also the shortest, has been exploring the unknown and frightening since he was able to crawl. Father Time and Mother Nature claimed paternity over the child and continuously presented him new places to find and conquer; most likely, it was them who commanded every structure to shiver at the voice of the King with no crown. It was decided, the friends knew it, Basil was the future governor of a decaying world of old gods and lost dimensions.

The thump of a heavy book closing with a quick movement attracted the eyes of the “muse” and the “king” towards it. Ah, the last one of the three and also the oldest. An impish smile appreciates the attention received and even though he intends no malice, his friends (whom he likes to consider brothers) are aware that he is the most prone to violent impulses. Every noise seemed to mutter at the exact moment he pushed himself up from the old wooden chair; everyone and everything was quiet and attentive to what he was about to do or say.

“They are already listening”, he said. His voice was deeper, but it didn’t even make the walls shake a bit, something that he secretly envied of his younger comrade. His index pointed upwards and the three of them remained silent. Riley Mendel was not only the smartest (in his group of friends and maybe even of the whole current dimension), but also the most dramatic one. He enjoyed performance very much and with the idea that the universe and its forces were always listening, he attempted his best to impress them at all times. Today, he was the leader. There wasn’t a specific head at all times, it was more of a... rotating role according to the presented situation; no one there would ever dare to claim superiority over the others, because then he would become an easy prey. An invisible halo adorned his shoulders as the cape of a temporary chief and casually, a window behind him filtered the stubborn rays of the sun to crown his head like a holy spirit. He had quite the ability to make things like this happen, to turn tables on his favor no matter how bad the situation could be. Basil and Zach were pretty sure that Riley had an unspoken ability to manipulate chaos, that he was the bastard son of Eris and Death themselves.

“It is unusual for us to meet on Friday”, the florist spoke again as he approached a couple of steps to accidentally form an equilateral triangle in relation to his friends positions. A moment of sepulchral silence is interrupted by a wind shaking the tree’s leaves as if hurrying the oldest of them to finish the dramatic pause. Everybody wants to know why those three old souls had to gather that afternoon.

“It’s Friday the 13th”, Basil remarked, the library creaking at its master’s voice. Everybody except the king looked around once again. Another brief moment of silence that the wind had to interrupt once again, louder and stronger this time. The spirits were impatient.

“I have a case”, the genius Riley finally dropped, but nobody moved. His friends, his brothers of arms know that he wouldn’t simply gather them with such hurry if this was just another one of his “simple” cases. Zach, the most insecure, briefly looked at Basil searching for some answers, but the motionless stance of the other ordered him to stay quiet and keep on waiting, eventually, the current leader will get tired of making them wait. “I want you to work with me in three equal parts”.

                                  The environment turned restless.

The sun touched the twilight, as if attempting to hide from the words that were just said under his watch. An eerie set of shadows hit the old building, creating disturbing silhouettes with the help of the trees in an attempt of scaring such idea from the mind of the boys. It’s inconceivable, outrageous, prohibited and overall... dangerous! Three forces like theirs should accompany each other, of course, but... work together... as one?! Somewhere in the universe the oldest immortals gathered around in an emergency meeting, the wind carried their panicking whispers to the ears of the boys as the sound of leaves brushing each other violently. Even the boys were confused, a simultaneous frown showed up on the faces of Basil and Zachary, but their postures remain untouched, one with crossed and confident stance, and the other with arms loosely at the sides of his body and a slight twist of his torso in an awfully natural elegant pose. Riley’s smile grew a tiny bit with every passing second. “Mortals” could wonder what’s so unusual about this? What’s the matter with three young men chatting about some case in an abandoned building? But you haven’t met them and for the love of any deity you believe in, thank them you haven’t and beg you never will, because these boys are not common fleshlings, these boys are hurricanes, are embodied danger that fell from the gods realm during a stormy night. The three of them are familiarized with death and loss, they are good friends with blood and misery, they served for The Fear and then sat on its throne. Impossibly talented in their own dark arts, these young men are the promise of a terrible (but grand) future.

“The details, brother”, Basil spoke again and the old library stops swinging, as if the voice of the king stroke like an order to let Riley expound.

“A new client, a very powerful person, but apparently not powerful enough, requires us to help them achieve greatness, to change the previously established, to break their prophecy set on stone and build them an empire”, the genius started explaining. His brown eyes bounced between his friends and even dust seemed to freeze in the triangle they have formed. The light diminished as the sun slowly managed to hide from the presence of these old gods, but far from being left in the darkness or getting afraid of the menacing night that attempted to kick them out already, their eyes seemed to glow and their bodies projected a soft light that would keep the shadows away. As long as they were together, not even the destiny would dare to interfere.

“Sounds like any other of your old jobs”. This time it is Zach who declared, his voice way more serious and stern than his initial greetings. The leaves stopped moving, nature around them just paralyzed as their human sentinel raises his voice. This time even Basil broke his steel confidence to turn his head to the florist. The topic of Riley’s past was something rarely touched, it could be quite a trigger; yet, the tall Ent remained calm and strong, capable of holding back a whole tornado if that was about to happen in that exact second. But nothing happened. Riley didn’t snap and slowly, time asks for permission to run by again.

 “The difference, my dear aesthetician”, Riley begun, “is that those jobs were lost coins, ropes with no beginning or no end, wasted opportunities. Don’t you see? My contact was heavily interested as soon as I mentioned having colleagues, people that, even if they couldn’t match the gray matter in my head, they had access to other sides of their minds I could only dream of”. The tone of his voice rose with every sentence, taking some steps in, causing the others to take the same steps to keep their triangle working. Their eyes connected and an invisible link wired their three minds in only one. “And what’s in for us? You may be asking”, Riley added and searched in his pocket for a folded piece of paper, it was empty. Nothing on the front or the back.

“An empty piece of paper could mean either ‘nothing’ or... “, Zach started, but hazel eyes quickly shot upwards to face his companions.

“Exactly”, Riley grinned, showing off human fangs to his friends in a greedy smile.

“You want us to build an empire of our own”, Basil finally spoke again with an almost accusing tone to Riley, “if this person is offering us everything we want as payment, they don’t know what they’re meddling with”.

“Yes, I am thinking of an empire, but not in the way you suggest, My Monarch”, Riley assured him. Another simultaneous step. The windows shut close with a dramatic last note before all remaining spirits abandon the location. They had to reach the sky, the stars and the grand deities to inform them of the playfellows’ ideas, to try and stop whatever they were planning to do. “This person tried to fool us. When I asked for the payment, they extended to me this blank piece of paper. No more words were exchanged”.

“They assumed we are going to ask for everything we want as a reward”, Zach resolved.

“But in the end they are going to give us nothing”, Basil added, “most likely even try to end us”.

The three of them exchanged a look and dropped a harmonic snicker, immediately reading each other’s thoughts. Even Basil, the least expressive of the three, had showed a witty smile.

“So we are going to give them what they ask for...”, Riley begun again.

“...If they feed us, we will grow, but if they starve us...”, Zach followed.

“...we will swallow everything we helped them build”, Basil finished.

A thunder at the distance immobilized the scene. The night had already consumed the day and now the moon watched as her offspring planned the fall of a powerful perfidious person in the most patient way.

“Then it’s settled...”, the genius proclaimed, extending his hand to the center of the triangle. Another thunder at the distance. Zach and Basil joined with their own hands over Riley’s. More thunders, a big storm was approaching... or maybe it was the universe completely terrified, sending alerts to every living being in the planet to be careful, to seek for shelter, because the unimaginable had just happened: three chaotic forces of the universe had decided to gather together to accomplish a goal. It was useless, nothing could ever prepare anyone to what was about to come in the near future. Existence was doomed. The boys smiled at the same time, proving their unnatural connection.

“...This is how it begins, we have risen...”.

“...We are gods”.

[smokeybrand]

First Impact

I’m not a fan of the Gacha. Never have been. I hate the RNG in my AAA titles like that weird Ultimate team sh*t in my sports games or the skin lottery in shooter titles. I don’t mind paying for extra content if there’s value in my play through but I'm a solo runner. I love solo games. If you got a DLC addition, a dope skin for party characters, or a way to enhance the gameplay loop, or some overpowered weapon for sale, I'll consider that. The second you put these types of mechanics in a multiplayer game or force the player into supplementing the vanilla gameplay loop with paid unlocks, you done f*cked up. I absolutely hate that sh*t. It’s why i bailed on the NBA 2K franchise after 2018. I love hoop. I love that game. I love My Player. But f*ck all that noise, i got two years to win as many titles as i can before the servers crash? Fine. Why the f*ck does it take me eight months and years in-game to grind out to a ninety rating then? It doesn’t have to, of course, as long as i spend another hundred or so dollars in stat points. I know. I did the math. I paid that loot for probably three or four years because f*ck the grind. I can afford it so why not? An then the caps came. That type of sh*t is where you lose me. If you’re going to force me to pay for this game two or three times over, i better become a Basketball God. Nope. In some title, you can’t even reach level ninety-nine, let alone one hundred. It’s designed that way so you can buy temporary boosts to get you over that hump. Constantly with the temporary boots because f*ck the consumer, right? That type of sh*t is f*cked up. Genshin Impact has f*cked up.

If you’ve followed this blog long enough, then you know i play two Gacha games pretty religiously; Azur Lane and Fate/Grand Order. I play these games, not because they’re good, but because i genuinely love the respective franchises. I’ve written at length about my love for all things Fate and have a pretty substantial collection of love letters to the Iron Blood faction in Azur Lane. The former is everything i ever wanted out of the Fate series. It’s kind of a greatest hits of the entire Type-Moon stable and i dig that. The narratives therein are all very Nasu and, considering I've been on this tragedy train since it was just porn, I'm in for the long haul. It’s wild seeing how far this franchise has come. My love for Azur Lane is a bit more shallow. I just like the designs, particularly Prinz Eugen. She’s my Morded for the admittedly inferior series. That said, Azur Lane is a better gaming experience than FGO. Neither one is a real f*cking game but i have my reasons for staying and have definitely grown to love them, which is why i am so conflicted about Genshin.

Everything i love about FGO and Azur Lane, the reasons i keep coming back to those games even though i know they’re Gacha trash, i find in Genshin Impact. Like, i adore Fischl. I love her design and her play style. She’d be my Mordred if i actually played this thing. I’m a fan of the narrative delivered so far. Genshin is an actual, honest-to-god, good game. It champions an immersive world, one chock full of lore to buttress the grind, and had fantastic support. This thing plays like an open world, action RPG a la Tales, and I'm here for all that. Tales is probably my third favorite RPG franchise so this sh*t is right up my alley. The Gacha aspects were even borderline forgivable considering the free content available at the start. For all intents and purposes, this is how you develop a successful Gacha. This is how you walk that fine line between profitability and predatory. For a whole year, Genshin did that high wire act very well. After that anniversary, they definitely fell off the trapeze.

Genshin made two billion dollars in their first year, decided that was enough loot, and went full EA with their bullsh*t. What was once an attentive, interactive, executive community, has become the very worst of corporate shills. They’re erasing negative comments from forums and outright banning the most vocal of critics. miHoYo has decided to put that profit over the player base, the absolute opposite of their intent, a year ago. I was already on the fence about playing the thing because of it’s strong ties to the CCP but after this? Hard pass. These people have decided to just f*ck all of the players with sh*tty drops and insanely predatory mechanics during Genshin’s first anniversary event. An anniversary event in a Gacha game is a time of player appreciation. They cash you out with a bunch of premium currency and offer special skins or characters as a thank you to their fans for, you know, making them two billion dollars. miHoYo went in a different direction and tied all of that sh*t behind the worse RNG the game has seen so far. For players, this was the last straw and they are not only leaving, but review bombing the sh*t out of this game. It’s so bad, other Gacha titles are getting hit with Genshin hate shrapnel.

My beloved FGO has taken a hit because of this miHoYo f*ck up. People are leaving terrible ratings and then, in their comments, literally telling Genshin to f*ck off. miHoYo has released a rancid cloud of diarrhea in the pool and now every one is getting covered in sh*t. It’s wild to me because, as a game, Genshin is really good. I was so close to signing up because the quality was unheard of in Gacha. I watched a few playthroughs and the sh*t looked fun. It looked like a real game. There were fantastic production values and proper game mechanics. There were RPG elements and a forgiving grind to a certain cap. Now, the f*cking thing is broken, full of bugs, and eating player’s money in a near unresponsive roll; All things that started filtering in after the first six months. After that solid word of mouth started rolling around. After people bought into Genshin’s absurd quality. miHoYo hit everyone with the long con, bait-and-switch, only it did not go as smoothly as they wanted. The backlash has been insane and i think this might be the opening salvo to the fall of Genshin Impact.

Genshin Impact has a solid fan base in China who will support the f*ck out of it because of their fervent Nationalism and there are enough Genshin zealots worldwide to keep it in the top ten. Plus, sh*tty mechanics and slipping quality aside, it’s still a pretty solid f*cking game. That said, a lot more people have been pissed about Genshin for a lot longer than the current misstep and that vitriol is spilling out into the pubic eye for the first time. miHoYo has kind of sensed this and given the players apology bundles but that doesn’t matter. I think at least here in the States, outside of the die hard Genshin coomers, people are kind of over this game. Like me, there were already a great many individuals out there who were hesitant with this title to begin with and, after this anni sh*t, we were proven correct. Genshin Impact is no different from the worst examples of these games. They are Battlefront II. They are NBA 2K. They are everything we suspected but hoped they wouldn’t be. I really wanted to like this game. I really wanted to lay it. If this was a proper AAA title, i would have. Sell this thing as a ten to twenty dollar outing, and I'm all in. But the greed of miHoYo has f*cked that up and, maybe, f*cked up the entire Gacha game. Time will tell.

[outofthefires]

Looking up from Below – Solo by Cinder

❝ 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦, 𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘱𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘴.. ❞

‘CINDER!’

The knowing voice of #Iko pulled me out of my own lost mind. Looking up from under the body of the Escort-droid, my hands in the back of her chest trying to pull out the wires which had to be replaced.

“Iko, what are you doing here? I told you to stay home today.” I scowled at her, but more so because I was worried what #LinhAdri would do to her if she thought that #Iko had disobeyed her.

‘Oh, calm down Cinder. Iko is with me. You know how mom doesn’t like me of Pearl leaving the apartment alone for too long unless we are accompanied.’ My younger stepsister #Peony following behind, not in as much of a rush as #Iko had been to make it over to the booth.

“Peony you shouldn’t be here in the market place this time of day too. It’s too warm out.” My sister brushed her delicate fingers through her hair and gave me a terse giggle.

‘Cinder, why do you always worry so much for me? Mom has been on a rampage in the apartment, and I told her I needed my port screen fixed and that I couldn’t wait until tonight when you came home. So, here we are.’ She gave a flutter of her eyelashes and that kind smile of her which curled the corners of her lips up.

Moving around the table at the front of the booth she came to a stop seeing the small box on the side. ‘Is that a box from Chang Sacha’s bakery?’ she gasped. ‘Did the old hag allow you to spend your hard earned univs there?’

“Shh..” My eyes darted all the way around, I knew nobody would be listening, but still. I didn’t care to share this knowledge with those around the marketplace, sure word would go back to #Sacha. “Yes, somebody gave me some honey buns as a thank you for the work I did for them.”

Moving the box out of sight as #Iko rolled herself into the booth too now and #Peony climbed up onto a clean crate to sit cross legged to watch me working.

‘You know they could just pay you, it’s how most people run their business here in the market.’ #Iko commented. She knew me too well and knew that if something was quick and easy for me to fix, I would do it and have the customer on their way. I didn’t feel it was fair to charge for a job which took me less than five minutes to complete.

“So, where is it?” Looking up and around the two of them. When #Peony gave me a blank look. Reaching out for the screwdriver I rolled my eyes. “Your portscreen Peony, the one you wanted me to fix?” With my free hand I reach out for the thin nosed tweezers to hold the wires in place as I attached them to the correct place.

‘Oh, look at you. Showing off now at the fact that you are ambidextrous, and able to use both your hands at the same time to do such fragile work.’ I knew my stepsister too well. She was deflecting.

“Peony” My voice just a tad raised with a pull on my eyebrow when I glanced back towards her now.

‘Okay, okay’ #Peony drawled. ‘It was a ruse, Iko and I wanted to come to the marketplace—’ #Peony was cut off by a shrill from #Iko. I dropped what I was doing, turned a full 360 to see what was causing the screams from her.

‘It’s about to start, IT’S ABOUT TO START.’ #Iko was rolling forward and backwards on her treads and I was about to murder her. ‘Look, there he is!!!’ #Iko said in the dreamiest voice I was sure her droid voice controls would allow her.

Leaning out of my booth a little to look about, “Who? What? Iko?”

She didn’t stop rolling and went over my only human foot. “IKO!” I cried out. But now #Peony was also jumping down from where she was perched. Clapping her hands and screaming too.

‘There he is, look at how perfect he is.’ #Peony moved to stand next to #Iko laying one hand on her chest and the other resting on #Iko’s shoulder. Following their gaze towards the giant Net screen in the middle of the market square, it all fell into place.

The news was broadcasting live from the roof of the New Beijing Palace. And right there in the middle of the screen was @RoyallyBound.

His Royal Highness the Crown Prince of the Eastern Commonwealth Prince Kaito, dressed in a black silk shirt with red and gold embroidery around the cuffs, stood beside his father #EmperorRikan and the emperor’s trusted adviser #KonnTorin. And yet as I allowed my eyes to drift over the market square and all the people stood with their heads turned up towards the Net scream, 89% of them were swooning teenage girls. Each and everyone of them with some foolish dream of meeting the Prince, with him falling in love with them and then having some unrealistic fairy tale wedding.

“Stars!” I exclaimed. Turning myself around I walked back into my booth and back to work.

‘Are you not going to watch Cinder?’ #Iko called out, however her face was still turned up towards the net screen.

“Thanks, but some of us have work to do, we can’t all stand around daydreaming about the Prince.”

‘Come on Cinder, you can’t be the only Earthen girl who can’t see the charm in that smile of his?’ #Peony said in her dreamy voice. Making me rub my human hand over my face.

“Stars Peony! I have work to do here.” I drawled at her. My hand on my hips not best pleased that the two of them only came to view the Prince on the big scream when they could have just watch the news feed at home.

‘Fine, don’t watch it for Prince Kaito, but watch it to see the first Luna delegates coming to earth in the Stars know how many years.’ #Peony sang the words, she’d moved to sit on the table now, her legs crossed, and she rested her chin in the palm of her hands. Her eyes still not moving from the Prince.

I stood still for a few moments, then moved a few steps towards the front of my booth again. Resting my shoulder on the edge of the shutter frame, I tugged on the hem of my gloves before crossing my arms over my chest, just as the screen panned out to show the Luna ship coming into land.

The Lunar spaceship was larger than any I’d ever set my eyes on. It was overly flamboyant, white in colour with something painted on the sides in gold. As it moved and then came to settle the high noon sun make the ship glisten and sparkle.

‘Isn’t it just beautiful.’ I heard #Peony whisper, and yes it was. There was no argument in that, however knowing who was in there was what made this moment uncomfortable for all the Earthens witnessing the arrival.

‘Is anybody coming out?’ #Iko asked the question and yet nobody knew. The ship stood still, our Royal family and high-ranking officials all stood under the heat of the hot sun, and yet there was no sign of the Lunas.

Finally, the cameras zoomed in as the ramp lowered, it was completely silent. I was impressed by the way the ship looked and sounded; it was as if it hadn’t just travelled from the Moon to Earth.

A few more moments passed and then one of the most beautiful women I’d set eyes on appeared. The Ticker at the bottom of the screen read the name ‘#SybilMira’, with the title of ‘Head Thaumaturge to Her Luna Majesty, Queen Levana’. She looked as though she was floating on air as she made her way down the ramp. She was wearing a faultless white coat with delicate runes emblazoned in gold around the cuffs of the sleeves.

But before we could have a closer look at her the screen panned out to the studio with the news presenter announcing that they were asked to stop the live feed once the Luna’s had arrived.

‘Oh, I wish they had shown more of Prince Kaito.’ #Iko was still using that dreamy voice of hers.

“Sure, As the first Lunar Delegate set foot off a Luna ship, and on Earth since their Monarchy was formed. All the cameras should have followed the Prince and nobody else. You know, the one guy who is the most shown and pictured in the whole of the Eastern Commonwealth if not all of Earth?” My tone was mocking and yet they didn’t click onto the sarcasm.

Because both #Peony and #Iko replied in unison ‘Exactly!’ letting out deep sighs with their hands on their chests again.

“Stars!” Is all I had to say as I went back to my job.

[fanfoolishness]

no words for heaven or for earth (3/?)

Hawke was left in the Fade, but Varric thinks, or hopes, that she’s still alive. And he has some surprising evidence. Read here at AO3.

Part 1: Where’s Hawke? |  Part 2: because you aren’t here

Part 3: the lonely ruined tower

Hawke sat on the stairs of a lonely, ruined tower. She knew the place. This was the grand tower in Ostagar, the Tower of Ishal, the one the Wardens were to send the signal from. Alistair had told her what happened that day, Loghain turning his back on the King.

She hadn’t known all that at the time. She had only known the confusing crush of human bodies, the smell of darkspawn, the brave mabari fallen on the battlefield. She hadn’t been an officer; she’d just been another body, one that would have joined the blooded field if the trampling retreat hadn’t taken her. Her blades had never felt so small and weak. She’d wished, again, for her father’s magic.

Not that that would have helped anything.

She leaned back, gazing to the top of the tower. There was no beacon shining, only a broken roof against a jade-swirled sky.

She had never spoken of Ostagar to anyone.  Everything had happened so quickly. She and Carver had both been shaken, too frightened by what they had seen to talk of anything but the little things.  

“There were some glorious dogs there, sister.  It would have been grand to bring home a pup for Molossus to train,” said Carver.

Min had been expecting him ever since she saw the tower, ever since she walked through shifting waves to reach it.  Had she been here moments? Hours? Days? It was hard to say.

“You’re not Carver,” she said, but she kept her eyes averted, only looking at him from the corners.  Her little brother looked the same as he always had, dark hair straight but somehow always tousled, his face set in a perpetual scowl until those rare moments that he grinned.  His voice pierced her heart, and she stifled a gasp at the shock of it.

“You’ve changed, Min.  You don’t care for sparring now?”  She could see his sword at the edge of her vision.  She held up her daggers to parry the thrust, but it hadn’t been a killing blow, only a testing one.  She leapt to her feet, her side aching.

“I told you.  You’re not Carver,” she spat.  “You’re just a demon.”

“This is just like you,” he spat.  “Refusing to let me do my part. You held me back at Ostagar.  I should have been there.”

“You’d have died then with the others!”

“Instead of a week later saving you and Mum and Bethany, you mean?  Yes, a real use of my talents, that,” said Carver. The sword shimmered in his hands.  Claws. Hands. She wasn’t sure which.

“You aren’t Carver,” she said again.  “Carver was an ass sometimes, but he wasn’t this childish.  We used to --” We used to get along, she wanted to say.   We used to play when Bethany had her lessons.  But she couldn’t say that to him.  Couldn’t look in his blue eyes, blue like their father’s, like her own, couldn’t tell him how much she missed him, couldn’t tell him she was so, so sorry she hadn’t been there --

“You aren’t him!” she screamed, and before he could raise his sword she struck, shifting and misdirecting, and drew her daggers across his throat.  

The thing that had pretended to be him slithered out, an insubstantial bit of spirit, and it fell away before she could fully catch its size or shape.  Carver disappeared. Hawke pulled her daggers to her chest, forming a protective X across her body, and turned and fled up the stairs.

She only stopped running when she reached a little room in the tower, the one beneath the open the sky.  Papers and daggers and staves hung around her like a constellation. She collapsed to the floor, the papers fluttering and wafting above her, and she wished as hard as she could that she was home.  

Somewhere, she could hear birdsong -- just a few whistled phrases, fading away into the wind.  “Chaffinch,” she murmured. She closed her eyes, trying to remember a world of sunlight and open air, a world where a little bird could dance in the branches of a Lothering farm.  

“Help,” she whispered, but the chaffinch answered not, and the wind was quiet.  She looked at her hands. A quill appeared in her left hand, and she stared at it, her chest aching.  It was the beautiful golden eagle quill Varric had given her years back, when she first moved into the Amell estate.  He’d called it fit for a noble, and though she’d snorted at the idea, she had had to admit he was right.

Ink.  She needed ink.  Red ink appeared beside her, and she ripped one of the vellum pages out of the air, setting it down and beginning to write.

The first dream, he mistook for memory.  There was that unnatural Fade-light, green and pale and wrong; stones floating far into the sky, the constant drip of water in the background.  A candle burning at a writing desk, and quills scattered on the rocks below. Papers fluttered, suspended in the air as if on a wire, never falling to the ground.  And somewhere far off, somewhere farther than the moon, he heard a scream.

He hadn’t realized he was sleeping.  He’d been fighting off flashes of memory all day, his brain spinning to try and accept it.   Where’s Hawke? he asked again and again, an idiot who hadn’t yet realized his world was broken.  He’d never hated the sound of his own voice more.

So when he saw the Fade again, he’d thought it just another flashback, one more attempt to understand the entirety of what had happened.

The second dream, he wasn’t so sure.  He walked along stone paths, and wisps and spirit-things floated nearby, lost in their own thoughts and desires.  Sometimes he thought he knew them, but that didn’t make any sense. They didn’t seem to notice him, even when he accidentally walked right through one.

He climbed stairs to half-built towers overlooking a green and endless sea.  It reminded him of what Namira had told him about Redcliffe in the future. He looked carefully for signs of red lyrium, but found none.

He climbed to the top of one of the towers, and found another writing desk beneath an open sky.  Like before, parchment hung, mysteriously suspended in the air around him. He reached out and took one of the pages.  The red ink slid around, dancing and speckling the paper as he watched.

A sound behind him startled him. Was that a bird?  He whirled, but found nothing there.

The paper vanished in his hands, and he realized that there was no stone around him; there were only the walls of his tent, travel-stained and sand-encrusted.  Varric lay there in the dark, disquieted.

The third dream was when he knew.  

He took the stone steps two at a time, his legs somehow long enough or the stairs somehow short enough for it to be possible.  The little wisps danced around him, and he flew past them, determined to get the hell out of the Fade.

He’d spent more time in the Fade than any dwarf had a right to.  First the debacle with Hawke in Kirkwall, when he’d shamefully given the demon everything it wanted just so he could be the favored brother.  That would have been bad enough if not for actually stepping foot in the blasted place like some Tevinter magister. And of course, that was when they left her --

He rubbed at his face, and the water he dashed from his eyes hovered behind him, refusing to fall.  

The tower climbed up and up.  He found surprises on the way, cunning traps laid into the stonework of the steps.  He managed to sidestep them. Something about them seemed familiar.

The writing desk was still there when he reached the top.  He reached for the first parchment, smoothing it carefully.  The scarlet ink began to shimmer, but before it melted off of the paper, he recognized a familiar left-handed slant.  My name is Hawke, and I am trapped.  

Varric tried to tuck the paper inside his shirt, but when he looked at his hand the paper was nowhere to be seen.  He glanced up and saw it a hundred feet away, hovering over nothingness. He let out a string of profanity, and halfway through fucking shit weirdass Fade he woke up.  

He woke up.

“I have never heard of anything like it,” said Solas quietly after Varric finished his tale.  “The children of the Stone dream not, and never have.”

“If that’s what dreams are normally like,” said Varric, “I don’t think dwarves are missing much.  How do I make it stop?”

Solas stood, conjuring a blue shimmer in the palm of his hand.  He carefully held it out, then with a flick of his fingers, the blue shimmer coalesced around Varric into a hazy curtain.  

Varric twitched irritably.  If it was a barrier, it felt different than the kinds he’d been used to with other mages, or even the sort Solas himself usually cast.  This one was uncomfortable, sparking and fizzing off his skin, even though the blue light looked static.

“So is this a… a de-dreaming spell?”

“No,” said Solas.  “I am attempting to determine the source of your dreams.  It should not be possible. ...then again, it should not have been possible to enter the Fade in the flesh.”

“So?  We do impossible shit every day.  What makes this different?”

The blue light sputtered, then faded.  Solas looked impressed. “You are Fade-touched, Varric.”

“And what does that mean?”  He thought back to some of the weird shit Lavellan had been telling him about, giant spiders that got that way because of their contact with the Fade.  “Please don’t tell me I’m going to turn into a bigass spider.”

Solas chuckled.  “Nothing of the sort.  It appears to be a temporary effect of your time in the Fade.  As Dorian, the Inquisitor, and myself were already mages, it seems we did not sustain any additional effects from our time there.  For now, though, you maintain a connection to the Fade similar to what a mage possesses. You can walk consciously in the Fade while you sleep.”

Varric stared down at his hands, wondering if fire was about to sprout out of him.  That would be the last thing he needed right now.  “But I can’t --”

“Work magic, no,” said Solas.  “I sense no ability to control mana or manipulate the elements.  At this moment, you read to me the way a mage child does; the potential is there, but not the power.  I suspect the connection will fade with time, but how long it will take, I cannot yet estimate. ”

“Still fucked up.”

“I agree,” said Solas, and for a moment, Varric could swear the elf winked.  

Varric hesitated.  He hadn’t told Solas what he read in the last dream.  He took a breath. Remembered the blood on her face, the determination in her eyes, the way she’d kissed him before pushing him into the rift--  

“Look, Solas, I… dreamed … that she was trying to send a message.  She wrote that she needed help. That she was trapped.”  He looked at the lamplight, soothing yellow flame dancing in its cage.  “Is there a chance? Any chance at all that it’s her?”

Solas turned aside, holding his hands behind his back.  Varric recognized the start of a lie when he saw one, and raised his hand.  “Don’t do that, Chuckles. Just be honest. I can handle it.”

Solas’ mouth was a thin, faintly approving line.  “You are most insightful, friend.” He shook his head.  “It is almost certainly a spirit, playing off of your desires.  They will do everything in their power to reshape the Fade to your wishes.  Including impersonating your friend.”

She was more than a friend.   She is more.  “But we were all physically there,” said Varric carefully.  “Which means this isn’t necessarily business as usual.”

Solas’ face was calm; calm and somehow sad.  Varric couldn’t say what had changed. Something in the eyes, maybe.  “There is a faint chance that Hawke survived the Nightmare, yes. If that were true, despite her lack of magic, perhaps she would have been affected enough to exert her will on the Fade around her.  And... perhaps you would be able to perceive some of those effects in dreams.” He gave Varric a warning look. “Yet she would have to battle spirits drawn to the fight, as well as survive in a realm where nothing can sustain the physical form for long.  Even if she still lives, the possibility of opening a rift again in the exact place she is in is nigh impossible. The Inquisitor has already tried, if you recall.”

Namira Lavellan had tried.  Tried for hours, in fact, tears streaming down her pale face.  Kept trying, while around her, Wardens dispersed and Inquisition soldiers began to dispose of the dead.  Kept trying until the sun fell, her hand sparking green in the dark, until Cullen and Solas and Dorian said things to her and led her away with her head bowed.  Varric hadn’t been able to make out their words. He’d been too busy slumping against a stone battlement with his hands limp and nerveless beside him, trying to remember how to breathe.

Varric ran a trembling hand through his hair.  “Sure. I recall.”

“I am sorry, Varric.”

He shrugged.  “Pleasant dreams, Solas.”

The stone stairs wound far, far into the sky, much higher than he had ever climbed before.  He kept climbing, never flagging, never wavering. He only stopped to undo her traps. He was certain now that they were hers; every rogue had a style all their own, and he remembered teaching her in the Hanged Man after too many drinks.  How long ago was it? Six years? Seven? Even then, he’d been a fool for her, savoring her smiles far more than he should have.

He reset each trap after he moved past them.  Her work had always been clever. He hoped it would be enough.

“Min!” he called, cupping his hands around his mouth.  How’d it work here, again? You used your will, right? “Hawke!”  And he willed his voice to be a beacon, willed it far over the endless green sea, willed it through the yellow-green sky.

Did it work?  He wasn’t sure.  He kept climbing.  

The tower room was different.  Daggers were laid out on the floor, shifting position and size as he watched them.  There were tapestries hung on the wall, their ragged edges fluttering. Their sigils wavered, their designs crawling up the cloth and sliding off of them into nothingness, but he was certain he was able to make them out for a moment.  The old Amell crest.

The writing desk floated in the center of the room, bobbing lazily up and down.  Varric reached into his pocket. It’s about will.  He pulled out a fountain pen that felt real as real, and began to write.  

Sparrow, I’m not giving up.  I’m going to find you.

The message ravens were burdened that day.  One of them glared at the dwarf with the reddened eyes, pecking at his hand as he tried to fix a letter to her leg.  She’d already seen him weigh down several of her kin with letters.

“Oh, come on,” he muttered.  The raven relented, finally holding still.  Once the letter was attached, she took to her wings, her mind suddenly sharp and focused.  She knew where to fly and what to do, and she soared high on the desert wind, and the dwarf watched her go.

[xspideyimaginesx]

Title: In the Name of Love

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Bonnie and Clyde AU 

Words: 1594

--

Some day they’ll go down together;

And they’ll bury them side by side,

To a few it’ll be grief—

To the law a relief—

But it’s death for Bonnie and Clyde.

— Bonnie Parker

My momma used to tell me about how marriage didn’t always mean love, that sometimes you had to settle just to get by in life ‘cause as women we were never going to earn enough money to live a life of our own. My momma always braced me for the worst instead of warning about the best. She never warned me about the type of love that consumed you until there was almost nothing left. She married my father out of necessity and always let that be known by my siblings and I. She didn’t know love like how it is in the movies because she was too scared to go out and find it. She didn’t prepare me like she should have. I don’t know if anything could have prepared me for a love like this.

It was raw and it was real and I never would have asked for anything else.

If I told you this was only gonna hurt

If I warned you that the fire's gonna burn

Would you walk in?

Would you let me do it first?

Do it all in the name of love

“C’mon darling, we need to get a move on.” Tom murmured softly as he stroked my cheek with his thumb, waking me from my nap. I moved my feet off of the dashboard of the car. I tried to stretch as best as I could with what limited space that I had in our Ford V-8 sedan.

The sun had just started to make its appearance, throwing a faint glow across all that the eye could see of Texas. I cranked down the window, breathing in fresh air hoping to flush out the smell of cigar smoke. He held the cigar loosely in his lips, puffing its acrid smoke every few moments. He made something so foul look so cool. With his curly hair slicked back and his suit laying upon his body with barely a crease, he looked like he could have been straight out of the movies that I used to pay a quarter to see.

He threw out the end of his cigar before turning on the car. His arm rested on the edge of my seat, placing my hair behind my ear. “Let’s bring him home, Love.” I nodded, closing my eyes as he kissed my forehead. The softness of his lips and his touch always surprised me. The newspapers always painted Tom as a brash, conniving man who had charmed me with his words. What they don’t say about our infamous love is how patient he is with me and how he has the softest touch. It has enough fervor to leave me breathless, but light enough to keep me wanting more.

He saw the worried look on my face as he pulled the car out of its hiding spot on the side of the interstate. “I know you miss them, darling. We’ll visit your family soon. It’s just too dangerous right now. You saw what happened last time.”

I sighed in response, remembering the shrill of my momma’s shrieks as bullets struck our vehicle. They had come out of nowhere. Tom’s hand had pushed my head down, trying to keep me out of the path of bullets. Sobs escaped my lips as I wondered about my family’s safety while policemen still attempted to lodge bullets into our hearts even though we were already out of sight.

It’s been four months since the incident and the plans to go see them are fading more each day as our names and faces grow more infamous.

“You can bet on my life that I’m not letting those assholes in uniform take you away from me.” Tom spat, gripping the steering wheel tightly making his knuckles turn white.

“I know, baby.” I muttered, focusing my thoughts on the landscape that was whooshing by outside the car window. There was always a bitterness that came with the thrill of the chase. Adrenaline ran high, blood pumped faster, chests heaved with tension, but when it was all over and we escaped with barely ten dollars and our lives being held loosely in our hands, it was difficult to appreciate the toil. The satisfaction came from the life they had built with each other.

I shrugged off the shawl that I had wrapped around my shoulders, not needing it as Texas’ intense heat demanded its presence be shone along with the rising sun. Tom’s curls kept blowing across his forehead from the wind that tumbled through the open window. I learned over, only wanting to be closer to him. His touch was addictive and I was in need of another hit.

I could taste the sweet bitterness of sin in his kiss. His lips were salty from sweat, but I didn’t mind. I wrapped my hands around his neck, only want to get closer. “Darling, you’re going to make us crash if you keep this up.” He chuckled, breaking our eye contact every few moments to keep an eye on the road. I didn’t answer as I brought him in for another stolen kiss. His hand reached up holding my neck as he deepened the kiss.

I pulled away when the blare of insistent honking broke my chain of thought. Tom’s eyes widened slightly before he swerved the car back to the right, barely escaping a run in with shiny new Ford. “You’re gonna be the death of me one of these days.” He grabbed my hand, letting his lips linger on the back of it.

“Now, would that be such a bad thing?” I joked, pulling stray hairs out of my face and behind my ear.

“Not at all, ‘cause at least I’d die a happy man.” Tom smiled at me, with a glimmer of mischief in his eye.

—

Would you let me lead you even when you're blind?

In the darkness, in the middle of the night

In the silence, when there's no one by your side

Would you call in the name of love?

By the time that we had gotten to Eastham State Prison, the sun had retreated and the moon had taken its place. We left the car hidden in brush about a quarter of a mile from the prison hoping that the roar of the car’s engine wouldn’t give us away.

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, echoing the sound of dry leaves crunching under our feet as the chain link fence surrounding the prison came into view. ‘We’re bringing him home,’ kept reiterating over and over in my mind. It’d been two long years and the weight of lost time felt like it was crushing my chest, making it hard to breath.  

Tom and I found cover under an old oak tree, waiting for the pocket watch in Tom’s jacket to reach midnight. The only lights that could be spotted came from within the prison itself. Tom knew this prison like the back of his hand as he had spent a couple months here after he was first arrested for not returning a rental car. By our present time of 1934, the prison had not changed a bit.

Tom had stashed a couple of pistols in the courtyard before he was released and as far as he knew, there were still there and were to finally be unburied and put to use. “One more minute, baby girl.” Tom placed his pocket watch back in his jacket and handed me an automatic pistol.

Like clockwork, gun shots echoed within the prison gates. Tom bit his lip as he focused his pistol on a guard. I closed my eyes as I heard the bullet launch from the barrel. The guard fell down with a thud. I covered Tom as he cut threw the fence with wire cutters. Breaths escaped my lips in wispy gasps as I prepared myself for having to use the weapon in my hands. Tom and I ran for cover as his friend followed us through.

We sprinted towards the car, hearing echoes of bullets being shot behind us, but we were already out of range. My chest was burning by the time we were in sight of the car. I fell slightly behind Tom as my dress kept getting in the way. My breath was knocked out of me as I fell to the ground, tripping on my own damn dress. Tom turned around as he heard me fall, but another pair of hands had already reached down to help me up.

He grabbed my hand, helping me steady my feet. I could see the confusion in my husband’s face form as he took in my presence. I had married the man standing before me three days before he was arrested and I don’t think anything could have prepared me for seeing him again. “Y/N, what are you doing here?” Harrison asked breathless.

I flinched as Tom called out my name to get in the car. Harrison glanced down at my hand to see my wedding ring still marking its presence on my left hand before looking back at Tom starting up the car. I walked briskly to the back of the car to avoid any type of words that were begging to escape my lips at this time. I didn’t trust myself to say anything.

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this and it wasn’t too confusing! I tried to make it pretty close to the actual Bonnie and Clyde. If you would like part 2 or have any requests feel free to tell me! Or if you have any suggestions on how to make it better let me know as well.