#of course communication goes a long way and plotting is never off the table. I just thought some improv might be fun!

[nocentis]

I am trying something new (to me) in regards to starters. In the past, I often found myself saying, "Well, my muse has no established relationship with your muse. They have never met." And thus nearly every thread started with formal introductions and slowly fizzled out from there because there was no real goal attached to the situation. While it makes perfect sense to establish that these characters do not yet know each other at some early point in these introductory threads, I feel that making that the entire focus of the thread doesn't lend to a greater story in most cases. As such, I am doing away with formal introductions as a starting point and instead throwing our characters into a fun situation with a lot of wiggle room!

This, of course, applies to pantsed threads with characters that my muse has no canon interaction with — or threads that have not been plotted. If this ends up working out, great! If not, that's perfectly fine, and I can always go back to introductory threads (ex. "Hello, how are you? I don't believe we've met."), but I thought this might be a fun little shift to help both of us keep the ball rolling.

[johnslittlespoon]

leaving bikeriders anon here again i’m going crazy over the back and forth constant neither of them saying anything out of nervousness of it all like of COURSE it would take them forever to actually get together there would have to be an honest to god crisis a completely off-kilter situation for them to get together they’re so bad at communicating. also have not been able to get the thought of them running into each other by chance at a bar across town and even though bucky showed up with people he just ends up at a table in the corner with gale the whole night. gale jokingly asks if john is even old enough to drink which turns into a whole thing where john suddenly has to prove to gale that he CAN drink and he IS old enough and is Definitely Worthy of gale’s attention. anyways!

HIII i'm still ON one about this too dw

exactly my goddd the back and forth would be physically painful to write/read honestly lol the flirtation and the sexual tension!!

ur so right smth absolutely wild would have to happen, or one of them would have to slip up, or there'd have to be an argument where feelings are blurted out in anger/hurt, orrrr, in relation to your idea at the end which i'm going clinically insane over bee tee dubs:

john is so offended by the insinuation that he's too young to drink even if gale's joking, made worse probably by gale throwing in a kid– "you old enough to be in here, kid?" with the corner of his mouth quirking up a bit.

john puffs his chest out and tries not to let the one beer he's had slur his words, goes "'course i am" all huffy, rolls his eyes, reaches for gale's full shot glass while holding determined eye contact and tips it back without a second thought, really has to clench his fist in his lap for a second when it threatens to come right back up, not used to anything quite so harsh.

it's not gale's intention to egg him on like that, john's just bristly, a messy college kid used to bulldozing his way through life, never turning down a bet or challenge, has maybe been watching a pretty girl hang off gale's other side on top of everything and wants to prove that he can be exciting and mature too.

john ends up drinking too much, taking whatever shots the others in gale's group pass him for their entertainment until gale shuts the next person who tries down with a pointed glare, slides the shot glass away before john can reach for it, says "alright, we're cutting you off" when john whines out a complaint, leaning heavily against gale's side.

the night ends with gale helping john out of the bar because john's friends leave long before he does. he gets john out to the parking lot out front, gets him situated on the back of his motorcycle, keeps a hand on his shoulder and asks where home is, and john's like, "oh, no, can't go home like this buck, dad'll gimme a shiner" and gale's jaw clenches hard, but it's not the time to get angry.

he's at a loss, because he's not gonna bring john home to an environment he's had a faint suspicion isn't the greatest since they met (however that might have been, that's shit for me to plot out later lol) but bringing him to his house seems like a bad idea, but he's also not sure what to do and john's friends don't seem the greatest to just leave him with a borderline stranger. so what else is there to do?

"am i gonna have to tie you to me, or are you gonna hold on tight?" he asks as he climbs on the bike in front of john, and john giggles out a "y'can tie me to wh'tever y'want," filter completely gone from how sloshed he is, and gale looks to the sky and says a silent prayer because jesus fucking christ. what.

i'm like 99% certain that alcohol would be involved in a feelings confession, probably that night when it slips out from john's lips, so drunk he doesn't even realize it. nothing would happen that night, because gale's trying to be a responsible adult and he wants to make sure john's not just saying shit, but he's also quite forward, so he'd bring it up in the morning after he's brought john a water and some painkillers, and john would go so red and he'd drop his head into his hands and whisper an "oh my god" because he can't believe he's slipped up so bad.

and then yk. feelings–talk ensues. john is so mortified, he wants to die. gale is so enamoured but trying to be realistic about things. etc etc i'll flesh it all out eventually when it's time to start writing it >:)

[regardstosoulandromance]

review: icebreaker by hannah grace

Icebreaker is the BookTok darling, the super hyped contemporary romance novel that pushed heterosexual hockey romance into the mainstream. I guarantee that if you go into a Barnes and Noble right now, it will be on an endcap or a display table or face out in the romance section. It has over 600,000 ratings on Goodreads, is a New York Times bestseller, and has sold over one million copies. Icebreaker was incredibly boring.

(This review contains spoilers)

Anastasia Allen has worked her entire life for a shot at Team USA. It looks like everything is going according to plan when she gets a full scholarship to the University of California, Maple Hills and lands a place on their competitive figure skating team. Nothing will stand in her way, not even the captain of the hockey team, Nate Hawkins. Nate’s focus as team captain is on keeping his team on the ice. Which is tricky when a facilities mishap means they are forced to share a rink with the figure skating team—including Anastasia, who clearly can’t stand him. But when Anastasia’s skating partner faces an uncertain future, she may have to look to Nate to take her shot. Sparks fly, but Anastasia isn’t worried…because she could never like a hockey player, right?

The novel follows Anastasia and Nate, a figure skater and hockey player respectively who are forced to share a rink at their college after vandalism renders the hockey rink unusable. But while the first few chapters attempt to set up a rivals/enemies to lovers scenario, the pair jumps straight to lovers without much hesitation. 

This book was way too long for almost nothing actually happening on the page. Most of the chapters detailed Nate and Anastasia doing mundane things together- they cooked dinner, they ice skated, they had sex, they went to parties- all while the big plot-effecting beats of the novel happen off page. We only hear about the big events from Nate and Anastasia second hand, telling each other between grocery shopping and showering. Some subterfuge was necessary for the few conflicts of the novel, but being told everything instead of experiencing it got old fast. 

Anastasia and Nate’s relationship was also pretty bland and boring. They have sex a lot (once in a car full of their friends!) but they talked in a sanitized, therapy speak. There was no miscommunication in Icebreaker, Nate and Anastasia are boringly healthy and vanilla both communication wise and in the bedroom (and car). 

Another thing that was frustrating was the amount of nicknames used. Anastasia goes by Stassie and Stas, which I was fine with as it explains how to pronounce her name, and Nathan goes by Nate which, again fine, since that’s a common nickname for Nathan. But all the side characters- which there were frankly too many- also have several nicknames a piece. It was difficult to tell who was talking about whom, plus it felt unrealistic for every single character to have multiple nicknames. 

The biggest problem by far, to me, was how pregnancy was talked about in Icebreaker. The author had a weird fixation on pregnancy. By page 46 pregnancy had been mentioned three times, all causing catastrophic negative effects, first that two skaters had to quit before their prime because they got pregnant, and it being attributed to why the hockey rink’s cooling equipment was destroyed. Then, later in the book, Anastasia’s skating partner Aaron claims she’s trying to baby trap Nate because she’s poor and says that’s what their coach did (one of the previously mentioned skaters who had to quit). Anastasia says that she wants to adopt. Of course, at the end of the book, Anastasia was pregnant and happy with Nate. 

From this I can only conclude that abortion doesn’t exist in the Icebreaker universe. 

I believe that the intent of the author was to show us positive character development and a change of attitude towards pregnancy on the part of Anastasia- like if a character was afraid of flying in an airplane but overcame it with the love and support of their partner- but fails spectacularly by not ascribing complicated emotions towards pregnancy to Anastasia specifically, but just to the world she lives in. It’s not subversive in the slightest and is just plain odd. 

After finishing the book, I did a brief search on Twitter of “icebreaker pregnancy/pregnant” and was shocked to find that a lot of people were surprised by Anastasia getting pregnant in the epilogue, calling it a “jumpscare”. I’ve never read a book that mentions pregnancy so many times before the 50 page mark with the exception of when I opened What to Expect When You’re Expecting while my mom was pregnant with my little sister. I’m admittedly curious if pregnancy is mentioned in Hannah Grace’s other books, but not curious enough to read them. 

Overall, I found Icebreaker by Hannah Grace bland, too long, and really strange. For a book that’s hyped as being sexy and romantic, it was pretty basic, leaving me wishing that the BookTok girlies would love themselves and read some better books, but as I’ve seen with ACOTAR and Fourth Wing, that’s a big ask. 

[tllgrrl]

A Dash of This, A Dash of That: A follow-up to “A Pinch of This, A Pinch of That”

Bucky can actually cook.

If he’d tried that “I only have one arm. I’m gonna need someone to cook for me” shit with Ayo…let’s just say it took one look from her to make sure he never thought of trying it.

He may have been out of his head, but he wasn’t that far out of his head.

And there was no way Shuri…or Queen Ramonda herself…or T’Challa (Blessed be his memory)…would have allowed a grown-assed man to be treated like a baby for 2 months, let alone for 2 whole years.

In Wakanda, once he started to get his head back and got used to having one arm, part of his recovery was work, and he got to work making himself useful to himself, and to the community that welcomed him.

In addition to offering his supersoldier strength when needed around the village, one of the other ways he made himself useful was cooking not only for himself, but also for the community when called upon to help.

Or simply as a way to say Thank You, like when the garden he had on his plot of land yielded more produce than he could eat by himself, he would harvest it, put it on a cart, and go around to his neighbors offering fresh vegetables, and goat milk from his small herd.

Bucky made himself useful as part of his recovery.

Cooking, however, wasn’t exactly a priority after The Great Return from The Snap.

He had other things to deal with living in the States, back in Brooklyn: a trial and subsequent pardon for his Winter Soldier captivity, mandated scheduled therapy appointments for who knows how long, amends to be made, and basically staying off the radar, hoping to maybe someday return to Wakanda to live out the rest of his over-extended life.

Then, in the middle of John Walker/Flagsmashers/Zemo and everything else designed to upend his plans to lay low, he met Sam Wilson’s sister Sarah and her 2 boys…and along with flirting, his cooking skills also started to resurface in Delacroix, Louisiana.

Of course he’s not as good at cooking as Sarah, but between what basics he learned from his Ma, then from his time in the Ilizwe lomama (aka The Homeland aka Wakanda), and now spending time in the kitchen with Sarah…and also watching YouTube videos, and being immersed in the vaguely familiar flavors of Creole and Soul Food cooking of Southern Louisiana…he’s improving.

And one of the results is…

Sam goes in for his third helping of collards, and all eyes at the dinner table are on him. He looks up from the serving dish.

“What…?”

Sarah looks from Sam to Bucky, whose eyebrows are threatening to invade his hairline.

“Momma!!” Cass and AJ point at Sam.

“Uncle Sam’s gonna eat all the greens,” AJ grumbles, dropping his hand, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms.

“Yeah! Too bad there’s not gonna be any left.” Cass says, looking at Sam with the biggest Puppy In The Rain eyes ever, while AJ gives Sam the Cyborg Stare & Squint he picked up from his Uncle Bucky.

“Sam!” Sarah laughs. “We want seconds, too! Save some for the rest of us, please!”

“Listen. I don’t know what you did this time, but this right here? You put your ankle in it! Cass, AJ, come on, get some of this.”

He dishes up some collards onto each of the boys’ plates.

“And you,” he side-eyes the supersoldier, “are a bad influence on these kids. Got AJ up in here doing your Terminator Stare thing. I’ll just have some more of that mac and cheese instead. Sarah, you want some more? Buck?”

“I’m good,” Bucky grins. “I’m going back in on the chicken, though. It’s delicious, Sarah.”

“Me, too!” both boys chime in. “I’ll have some more mac and cheese, too!!” says Cass, rubbing his hands together like he’s seen his Uncle Sam do when food is yummy.

“Sis, your greens usually taste like Nana June’s and Mama’s with a little sumpt’-sumpt’ secret that you won’t share with me. There’s something different about these, though. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but they’re delicious. Next time, you need to double up that recipe!”

Sarah glances over at Bucky, who is busying himself with his piece of chicken. He glances up at Sarah, then at Sam, then back down at his own plate, smiling to himself.

Sam picks up his glass of sweet tea. “I think everyone should thank the person who fixed tonight’s dinner.”

“Thanks, Momma!”

“Thanks, Sarah.” Sam says, raising his glass to her.

“Thanks, Sarah.” Bucky takes her hand and kisses it, then raises his glass.

Then Sarah raises her own glass. “You’re welcome. And I’d like to say a special Thank You to the person responsible for the greens. Thank you, James.”

“Wow! Cool! Thanks Uncle Bucky!” Cass and AJ chatter with excitement, peppering him with questions:

“What else can you cook?”

“Who taught you how to cook, Uncle Bucky?”

“Did you cook way back in the Old Timey days?”

Bucky chuckles at their enthusiastic curiosity. “Thanks, fellas! You really like ‘em?”

“Yeah!” the boys say in unison.

Sam, still holding the serving spoon and dish, just sits there, unable to process what he's just heard.

“Hey, I thought staring was my thing” Bucky grins as Sam glares at him.

“You…cooked these greens?” Sam says looking at Bucky, then at Sarah, then back at Bucky.

“Yes, I did, Samuel. You’re welcome. I’m glad you like them,” he deadpans.

“And you actually seasoned them! I mean, this isn’t just salt and pepper. This…this is…”

“A special blend I made with spices from— Wait. What? Why are you surprised? I was in Wakanda for 2 years. Do you think I was on a vacation? That I had people cooking for me and waiting hand and foot on a grown man perfectly capable of—

Sarah, tell your brother that I…I know about seasoning, Sam!”

“Sam. Come on, now.” she chuckled. “Of course he had learn how to—“

“Oh! So, he spent a little time in Wakanda and he came back Spice Panther?!” Sam laughs, pleased with his joke.

Sarah and Bucky look at each other, then at Sam, and together declare:

“Actually…it’s Spice Wolf.”

Cass and AJ both giggle as Sarah and Bucky chuckle and continue to enjoy the meal.

Sam stares at them both…and puts the rest of the greens onto his own plate.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 131

Two things about this chapter:

One: I am a sucker for these domestic chapters. I love showing people being people, and weaving world-building and plot development into those scenes.

Two: I am currently doing better from a work-exhaustion perspective, thank you everyone who was concerned!  I actually took the day off the day before I wrote this and just slept as much as I could that day, because the last day I worked, I was literally swaying on my feet if I stood still.

As always, thanks to @the-raven-fae, @baelpenrose, @anotherusrname, and @charlylimph-blog for keeping me going, along with every. Single. Person. Who has found this story somehow and just binged it as fast as you could. I love when my inbox gets detonated by someone new, please never stop!

Glimmering Feathers Podcast is currently doing The Miys from the very beginning! Please listen and support!

“Have the shelter locations for non-combatants been shortlisted?” I panted as Tyche and I sat on the floor of the gym after an intense cardio and sparring session.

She shook her head as she took a gulp of water. “Not that I know of, but Xio hasn’t really told me anything yet.”

“You would think we would be told pretty quick,” I complained. “After all, we’re supposed to be putting together the rosters of who goes where.”

“We put together the lists of combatants and non-combatants.” She stood and held out a hand to help pull me off the ground. “Our part is done for right now, and we’re pretty far ahead of schedule, honestly.”

“This isn’t exactly the kind of thing we want to leave to the last minute.”

Tyche groaned. “Right about now, I wish you were planning the Festival still. You get crabby when you’re stressed and don’t have anything to work on.”

I scowled and made pincer-like gestures with my hands.  She just laughed and shook her head before I asked, “Are you and Antoine coming over for dinner tonight?”

“Only if you let me shower first. We both stink.”

There was no way I could argue with that, especially as I went to put my glasses on and caught a whiff of myself. “Showers, then dinner at twenty-oneish?”  As we exited the gym, I paused to let my eyes adjust to the far-dimmer lighting. Chills ran down my back every time I recognized the similarity to the nightmares Else had given me while trying to communicate, and I always had to spend a few minutes forcing myself not to step over debris that wasn’t actually there.

“Can we do vegetarian tonight?”

“You have to talk Conor into it.”

 A couple hours later, we were standing in my kitchen area.  Tyche was aggressively mashing chickpeas while staring down a nearly-flinching Conor.

I leaned over from where I was mincing herbs. “That isn’t what I meant and you know it,” I whispered.

“Don’t worry. I’m making him lamb, he just doesn’t know it,” she whispered back from the corner of her mouth. 

To avoid smiling and giving it away, I called out instead. “Hey, Antoine, can you come start the tzatziki? You’re better at it than I am.”

“If you would give in to the existence of salt, Sophia, you would be a much happier woman,” he teased with a serious face.

“I use salt!” I objected.

“At the end,” my sister pointed out. “He salts the cucumbers before mixing everything together.” She glanced back at Conor before arching an eyebrow at him.

Distraction time. “Love, how are the plans for the housing fabrications coming?”

“Your mate Arthur apparently convinced Huynh - somehow, it’s not like they talk - that we don’t need fortifications,” he groaned. “I keep trying to explain that we aren’t putting up fortifications, it’s for agriculture.”

“Wait, what? What does that have to do with housing…?”

He tilted his head side to side as he considered. I could almost see him rewinding. “We have several different blueprints drafted for housing, dependent on what we learn when we drop into ‘real space’. Lots of them include plans for those espell-things to grow on the side, but Huynh is pushing back. It’s holding up the approvals.”

“What does Charly think?”

“Anything that helps us grow more plants with less impact on the environment is a win for her, so I’m trying to take the long view. He can decide whatever he wants now, but she’ll go with the plants every time.”

Antoine appeared next to me, wiping his hands. “How would your plan work if there is a cavern system, as suspected, rather than a surface settlement?”

He conceded the point. “Still working on a sustainable grow-light system for that one. But if it works, we would have year-round crops, so it would solve for the problem of storage in the winter.”

The door to our quarters opened just then, and a very tired-looking Maverick paused to take off his boots. “What would solve for the winter storage issue?” he asked.

“Sustainable grow-lights,” Tyche tossed over my shoulder from where she was hiding the lamb.

He made it as far as the table before dropping into a chair and leaning heavily on Conor, who wrinkled his nose. “Mav, you stink.”

“Turns out grav-mechs are greasy, even in space,” he mumbled, nuzzling into the other man’s shoulder instead of taking the hint. “I hate calibrating them.”

“No dirty hands at the table!” I reminded him. He didn’t move his head, just held up two meticulously scrubbed hands. “Fine…” I surrendered.

“Why are we talking about grow-lights?” he asked.

“Huynh is fighting with me ‘bout the housing solutions,” Conor explained, stroking his hair.

“Ah… the plants?”

“Yeah.”

“Can’t you just make the plants where they can grow with less light? I thought you were already working on that.”

“They turned black, tasted horrible, and we ended up with a sentient plague,” I pointed out. “No more dinking around with plant genomes please?”

Tyche turned around, hands on her hips. “We are already trying to manage a food festival and a potential invasion by space-pirates. No more plagues. Knowing her luck - “ she jerked a thumb in my direction “- this one won’t be the apologetic and cute kind.” Apparently the words that just came out of her mouth registered, because she rolled her eyes and threw her hands in the air before turning back to her top-secret dinner plan.

I finally finished turning the pale green paste into patties and shoved them in the oven, removing the griddle that had been warming in there. Hefting it onto the heating elements that served as a stove, I started putting together dough for pitas. “So, grow-lights. What kind of light do we need for them to work?”

“Blue, ideally,” Conor responded without even having to think. “Four-fortyish nanometers. Weirdly red light, six-fiftyish nanometers works, too.”

“So explain the issue, because I feel like I’m missing something. Charly designed lights in both those colors.”

“Wrong wavelengths,” he explained, scratching the back of his neck. “And it’s apparently really hard to finetune the wavelengths of organic lighting. She’s managed to get it right, but only for about twenty four hours before it shifts too far one way or another.  We don’t want to depend on completely inorganic light, if Von is as metal-poor as we think it will be.”

“Can’t replace them,” I half-asked. He winked and shot me a finger-gun to confirm my suspicion. “Yeah, that’s a huge problem.”

“The star emits just the right kind of light, barely, so if we stick with surface settlement, we should be okay.”

“And that’s where the storage issue came up,” Maverick mumbled sleepily, bringing us back to the original question he asked.

Conor jostled him gently, and I heard something about a shower to wake up before Maverick padded off in the direction of the bathroom.  Right at the same time, Tyche reached around me to flip a pita before blowing her fingers and cursing softly.  Apparently, her secret was done, so I handed her the spatula and started rolling out more dough.

By the time Maverick came back with wet hair and a too-big shirt that had to be Conor’s, most of the food was on the table and we were ready to eat.  Conor started grumbling about no meat and how could us weirdos eat a meal with no meat when he was interrupted by Tyche clearing her throat. His head snapped up and his jaw dropped.

“You! You are the sneakiest, most beautiful sister in law I could ever ask for,” he extolled dramatically as he saw the platter of lamb skewers in her hands.

She moved the platter out of his prodigious reach as she approached the table. “There’s a catch. You have to at least try the falafel. By itself, no lamb. Then you can have the meat.”

Maverick, more awake now and with half a sandwich already in his mouth nodded. After chewing and swallowing, he nodded again. “It’s really good, I swear.”

I pretended not to notice that he grabbed a skewer off the stack.  Then again, Maverick also wasn’t a grown man who still had to be bribed to eat vegetables. Usually, he had to be bribed to eat meat actually.

Conor, on the other hand, took the falafel pita that Tyche made for him and eyed it skeptically. “I feel like I need to point out that this isn’t a sandwich, this is what you put on a sandwich.” His hesitancy lasted about as long as it took for Antoine to stand and pick up the platter before he took a huge bite out of fear that the lamb would be taken away. He chewed frantically until Antoine put the platter back down, before he actually registered the taste.

I wanted to laugh at the confusion that flooded his face as he stared down at the sandwich in his hand. Finally, he swallowed, but the confusion didn’t stop.

“That’s…. Actually not bad. I thought vegetarian food was supposed to be bad?” He flinched when dual glares were thrown his way by me and my sister. “I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant - you know what, I’m going to shut up and eat before you two ladies decide I’m for dinner tomorrow night.”

“Very wise course of action,” Antoine confirmed solemnly as he carefully spooned tzatziki on his own, onion-loaded sandwich.

Still shaking my head, I started making my own food when I realized something. “I thought we made a lot more falafel than this?”

Tyche smirked but didn’t say anything. Neither did Antoine, focused on his own meal. Maverick however, was suspiciously quiet. I glanced over at him, only to see him staring really hard at his plate, which now had three empty skewers on it.  As my mind caught up, I actually found the sight kind of adorable.

I must have stared too long though, because Maverick muttered pathetically. “I was hungrier than I thought.”

Kissing the top of his head, I put another pita on his plate. “Baby, we made more than enough. Eat all you want. I just don’t want you to choke, that’s all.”

A long-fingered hand with slightly ginger hair on the back put a skewer on his plate. “Love, we can’t eat all this, you’re fine.”

“I always make enough food for ten people when you two are eating,” Tyche confirmed, not even looking up. “Teenage nephews in the Before. Lots of practice.”

He slowly looked up at us, and realizing that no one was angry, just surprised, he looked less afraid and sat up straight. Conor patted the top of his hand before deploying one of his weaponized, thousand-watt smiles. “C’mon, I’ll show you to make one with the lamb. You’re gonna need a lot of onions for this…”

I groaned, setting off a round of laughter. I wasn’t against onions on a sandwich, but they didn’t have to sleep between two men with onion breath.

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[omnipah]

re: your tag - tell me more about why D&D is a bad ttrpg! I get so frustrated with people trying to mod D&D for different settings & campaigns when there are so many other systems out there that might do exactly what they're looking for and better!

Okay so first of all, disclaimer needed: I’ve only played dnd before, all my experience of other systems is from actual play (please I’m begging u to listen to Friends At The Table), but even that level of exposure is enough to see how dnd is, uh, Very deeply flawed and only gets by on the fact that people don’t know that better stuff exists (or, they do but they don’t wanna try it on principle, I guess).

My main thing is, and this is a matter of both the mechanics and the culture surrounding the game, that dnd is very bad at doing what a ttrpg sets out to do. Which is, a ttrpg is supposed to be a way of generating story in a way that’s spontaneous and collaborative, and of course there are a lot of ways to do that, but everything about dnd is designed to resist that drive. The amount of power the dm holds (both socially and mechanically) automatically sets them against the character players, and creates a space where the other players are encouraged to be completely passive and allow the dm to essentially have final say on what does and doesn’t go. Obviously this is partly an issue of who you’re playing with and whether they know how to be respectful, but the game leans into it by encouraging the dm to do all worldbuilding work themself and often hold secrets about it, and also through the way the dc of a roll is always the dm’s discretion. It doesn’t matter how well you rolled, at the end of the day, they can just say you failed, and if they’re smart they’ll just never tell u that they changed the dc behind ur back, but they’re perfectly capable within the rules and culture of the game to just change it based on what they like. This, needless to say, does not exactly cultivate good faith.

This is what I was saying in my tags: the issue of character players being passive and expecting to have a story told at them is a real problem, yes, and those players should engage and take responsibility for their part in generating plot and characterisation, but it’s an artefact of an extant (and now cyclic) problem, wherein the players with different roles aren’t encouraged to communicate or work together.

Like, one of the other things that feels really overlooked in dnd circles is the idea of consent and negotiation, the idea that the players should be able to, at any point, say to each other that they don’t want to touch a topic, or that they’re uncomfortable with where the story is going; a lot of people seem to implicitly think that it’s just not a big enough deal to actually talk about those things, or, at best, they assume you’ll say something without encouraging you to. There’s this assumption that if you don’t like something it’s your problem, rather than a collaborative effort to create a space in which everyone feels secure, and trusts the other people at the table enough to speak up without fear of getting dismissed.

That also leads into the issue of excessively built-out combat mechanics, with disproportionately little by way of anything else. It’s never encouraged by the rules to set boundaries for what kinds of violence you’re willing to see or commit in-game, or discuss the implications of depicting those things; and it’s assumed that combat is the main thing you’re there for. Combining that with the shocking level of bioessentialism in the lorebooks (whether overt fantasy racism or subtler stuff), it makes for a very narrow, and colonial, band of stories available to tell without excessive hacking, and hacking is excessively difficult because of how number-crunchy it is, in that, if you change anything or add anything, it’s very possible you’ll just break the game statistically.

The crunchiness also is something which can work and I’ve seen work well in other systems, but the way dnd does it actively discourages creativity on the character players’ parts. Other systems codify types of actions, and types of success and failure, which deliberately have wiggle room so that the mechanics can be massaged to take whatever weird and wonderful thing u wanna try to do, and they do it in a way that makes failure an interesting outcome that drives plot forward; dnd wants every single possible action to be codified in one specific way, or else not be accounted for at all (see previous, you also then can’t hack it in without several hours of work), and failure, as I’ve said, is a matter of dm discretion and whether they personally want to hinder you, which is something that’s honestly terrifyingly prevalent.

Also, in terms of longer campaigns, there’s no real structure to the game other than just an assumption that the numbers will get bigger, which is an incredibly false and boring way of attempting to raise stakes. Like, if your health has increased, AND your damage has increased, AND your ac has increased, AND all of those things have also increased for your enemies, what has actually changed in terms of how it feels to play the game? This is why so many people end up multi-classing, because it’s the only codified way to force some kind of lateral progression out of the game. Even then, nothing changes as you progress, except you’re maybe more terrified about killing off your own character in a way that you still have no control over, because again the character players have no control and are expected to just take it when they’re told something they don’t like. The attitude of ‘well, the dice said so’ is not a bad one, as long as you’re careful, but it’s acting as if the matter is out of the players’ hands, which is patently false; it’s a narrative that YOU are constructing, and you can and absolutely should make it a narrative that is safe for the people making and consuming it.

This comes back to the idea of ‘spontaneous and collaborative’. Dnd is viscerally opposed to any kind of actual working together, either between dm and character players, or between members of the party, but it’s also forcing the worst kind of spontaneity, in that ‘the dice said so’, while still codifying in advance everything you’re ‘allowed’ to try to do, and encouraging the dm to prep so hard that there’s nothing going on in the world that they don’t know about, which again puts all the onus on them for story- and world-building. You literally cannot do real collaboration if you have this attitude, and vice versa, you cannot have real spontaneity if you insist on setting yourself against the others.

Tl;dr: dnd is a game which goes out of its way to be hostile to the people playing it, and even when those people actively resist the competitive mechanics and culture, the story they end up making is just plain boring, and has a ton of unaddressed, unanalysed colonial baggage.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Mate in Three

Pairing: Beth Harmon/Benny Watts Rating: M Word Count: 2653

Summary:

It's not a matter of if Beth can seduce Benny, it's a matter of when.

The first thing Beth decides is that it doesn’t matter whether Benny knows she’s doing it on purpose. Not for a moment does she believe herself to be wilier than him, therefore her attempts to seduce him cannot go unnoticed. She’s already revealed her intentions—at the bar in Ohio—and he’s made his own position clear. Both halves of it. He wouldn’t have needed to put an unambiguous ban on sex if it weren’t at least partly for his own benefit, as a reminder to keep their relationship professional, trainer and trainee. She still smiles to herself over how he reacted when she swept the hair from his eyes. All he’s done is silently place a handicap on her play: she’ll have to accomplish it all without touching him.

The drive to New York is for revision, repetition, exercises, and, amusingly, bonding. Benny’s still Benny behind the wheel, but this is something more straightforward than playing Benny Watts for fans and the press. He’s at ease. He even unstraps the knife from his belt ahead of them setting off.

“For comfort,” he claims, explaining that he doesn’t want the sheath digging into his leg the entire trip.

“Does this mean you don’t believe you need to protect yourself from me?” Beth jokingly inquires.

He holds her teasing stare a second too long and clears his throat as he redirects his attention to the road ahead of them.

It takes her a couple of days to find her feet after arriving at Benny’s apartment. She’s never been to New York and the noises outside are as jarring as the grim interior. Her host trailing the end of that open robe around feels like the equivalent of the smug smirks some of Beth’s earliest opponents wore when they mistakenly supposed they’d made a brilliant move against her. She wiped those smiles off easily enough; proving that Benny’s no match for her shouldn’t be any tougher.

Once she adapts to the lack of natural light inside the space and having to blow up her bed every evening, Beth is ready to commence. Benny’s already training her, started the first morning, but now she shifts to playing a simultaneous. This is the game beneath the game. Sure that she can win, what she’s most curious to discover is how many moves it’ll take. Though the apartment is unelaborate and their lives within the unadorned rooms routine, she finds opportunities. Poverty, followed by the monk-like existence at Methuen—every space communal, precious few meaningful possessions scattered between nearly two dozen girls—has made her wickedly resourceful.

Taking responsibility for feeding them is straightforward. It makes sense for her to buy the groceries as a way of repaying him for letting her stay, plus her numerous pointed looks upon opening a cupboard or the refrigerator to expose the slim pickings have Benny half-convinced before Beth even asks to take over food shopping duties. The only things he’s really attached to (besides coffee) are his morning eggs. She notices. She plots before falling asleep, unfurling scenarios in her mind as she stares at the ceiling and folds her hands over the placket of her satiny pink pajamas. Then, she starts eating his eggs.

“Why do you buy all this other stuff if that’s what you want to eat?” Benny questions, standing next to her at the stove, using a greasy fork to gesture towards the egg she’s frying.

Beth shrugs, surveying as he goes back to scraping at the bacon where it’s sticking to his pan. Even now, his upper body is bare under the robe and she’s suppressing the urge to warn him about the pain of hot splatter. She transfers her weight onto the foot farthest from him and watches the bacon sizzle.

“Maybe I just like eggs,” she says.

And, truly, she doesn’t mind them. However, Beth, who has preferred her eggs scrambled since childhood (a common breakfast at the orphanage and the most tolerable meal they offered), unfailingly prepares every egg at Benny’s over easy.

They take their positions across the table and the board from each other, plates on their laps, coffee always just shy of being knocked to the ground by their propped elbows. She lets him ramble. He seems to enjoy beginning every session with a little chess history—and, of course, the Benny Watts perspective on it. Finally, he moves his first piece with a decisive tap, but Beth concentrates on her egg. She splits it with the side of her fork and quickly moves the bite to her mouth.

Confused by her failure to respond to his opening move, Benny looks up. Beth feels immense satisfaction in witnessing the impatient gaze he shoots at her eyes melt as it drops to the yellow yolk dribbling from the corner of her lips. She wipes at it with feigned embarrassment, as though she hadn’t been pressing the egg against the roof of her mouth with her tongue until she felt the gush.

He blinks and shifts in his seat.

“You going to play or what?”

“Yes.”

Benny wins the first match by too much because she was distracted, but Beth’s loss is bearable to her. She gained ground in the other game. Although he recovered promptly, what she now thinks of as the Egg Variation did get his attention.

When devising the second move of her endgame, she thinks of Harry. His love for her was as plain as the nose on his face, but she suspects that this next tactic will work just as well on someone far less blatant about their feelings. Watching a woman dance must be where concealed lust and transparent devotion meet. Just as she stripped Benny of his queen at the Ohio tournament, she aims to strip him of the persistent disinterest in her that hangs from him like one of his necklaces.

He has a small radio. She’s only ever seen him listen to it in the morning, either sitting on the steps across the room from where she sleeps (presumably trying not to wake her with the noise) or at the table while she’s frying up her provocative prop/breakfast. One night, Beth waits for Benny to turn in, then grabs the radio. She has it on low at first, swaying her head side to side. But when she starts inflating her mattress, the thump of the pump depressing drowns out the music. Well, there’s only one thing for her to do about that.

Eyes on the closed bedroom door, Beth twists the dial to increase the volume. She swiftly sets the radio on the floor and places her foot on the pump, heart fleetly beating. Benny doesn’t come out, so she finishes her task, anticipation mounting. She adjusts the volume again.

Because they left right from Ohio, she traveled with a limited wardrobe. Taking pleasure in both strategizing and dressing herself well, Beth made sure to have the correct clothes clean on the correct day—including today. Especially today. That’s why, when the music sufficiently interferes with his attempt to get to sleep, Benny storms out only to halt in his tracks at the sight of Beth dancing, the navy skirt she wore the day before she trounced him twirling around her thighs.

“Sorry,” she says when she catches him staring. She’s grinning. “We sit all day and I… needed to move.”

“Right now?” he asks, crossing his arms over his bare chest. He taps a finger against his arm and she notices he’s removed his bracelet and ring. It’s oddly intimate to view him without jewellery.

“Well, you don’t give me any other time.”

“That’s because I’m training you to be a chess champion, not a ballerina.”

Benny tilts to rest his shoulder against the wall. He’s still watching her and she’s still dancing, wiggling her shoulders and hips in place, though no longer hopping around. Just meeting his gaze has her out of breath. Do something, she dares him with her eyes.

“Relax, Benny,” she impishly commands. “I promise this won’t make me worse at chess.”

“Will it make you better?”

Beth shuns his challenging tone, swinging around to put her back to him and dancing more vigorously. She almost thinks she hears the smack of his bare feet crossing the floor to join her, but when she turns, Benny’s about to step back into his bedroom. He stops himself though, hand braced flat on the wall. She quits dancing as, slowly, he looks sideways at her. His eyes race over her faster than she can be sure of what he’s taking in. Her skirt and her plan, or just her noisy presence, keeping him awake? As he turns his head and disappears for the night, she spots the way he smiles to himself. She wants to drag him back out here. Instead, with a sigh, she shuts off the radio.

She can feel it—she can always feel a victory. Her self-assurance in this talent has never been rattled. When Benny beat her in Vegas, it didn’t surprise her. No, she watched it coming from half a dozen moves off, which was enough to lend his win the same terrifying inevitability as the oncoming truck that met Beth’s mother’s car on a bridge and killed her on impact. Beth was as incapable of escaping defeat at the US Open as she was of grabbing the wheel from the backseat and steering her mother to safety. The sense of an approaching victory is free of what-ifs and regrets. It simply is.

Following the employment of the Egg Variation and the midnight dance, she’s certain the seduction requires a single move more. And she’s US Champion Beth Harmon. She has just the thing.

The abominable dearth of privacy where the shower is concerned makes it an obvious choice. Too obvious? In her mind, no more obvious than engaging Benny in a trading of queens in Ohio after being defeated by him in that same manner in Las Vegas. His ego made him believe he was invincible, blind to the fact that Beth would never make the same mistake twice. Equally keen to avoid a blunder here, she gives the backdrop of the strike that will be her last a good test run. And tries not to enjoy it too much. (Outwardly.)

Usually, she collects her clothes for the day—or pajamas, when she showers at night—and places them next to the shower. Close enough to reach, far enough to avoid the rogue spray that makes it past the curtain. Hidden by that same curtain, Beth towels off, then sticks an arm out to snatch up her clothing and dress in everything but shoes before stepping out. During her test run, Beth forgets to bring her clothes. She dries herself like normal, then, when she hears the door to Benny’s bedroom snap open, presents herself with his threadbare towel twisted around her, the end tucked in beneath her arm. She blinks at him as though startled and laughs with modest embarrassment.

“Forgot my—”

“Oh,” he says and steps back, practically trips back, slamming the door.

Beth waltzes across the room, head held high to breathe the air of imminent conquest. She almost begins to hum. What must he be thinking as he keeps himself caged in his room? Is he frozen or pacing? Running his fingers through his hair or his palm over his mouth? Has he flung himself to the far back of his bedroom, as far from her as he can get, or does he wait just inside the door, battling every second against the compulsion to wrench it wide?

“Just you wait,” she singsongs under her breath, smiling as she wrings water from her hair and pops on a headband.

After the trial comes the play for all the marbles (as her mother would’ve said). Beth doesn’t wait, doesn’t grace Benny with any time to cool down and get a handle on his refusal to acknowledge her as a potential sexual partner. The very next time she showers, she forgets the towel.

“Benny?” she shouts.

She’s knows he’s preoccupied; he was reading a book—on chess, what else—when he retreated to his bedroom for her privacy. His belated answering shout confirms that she’s only won a piece of his attention. Beth bites her lips together to discourage herself from smiling.

“…Yeah?”

“Could you come out here? I need your help.”

Controlling her expression, Beth pokes her head around the edge of the shower curtain.

“Well,” she hears him say loudly as his door opens, “that’s the first time you’ve said—”

His eyes scan the room for her and, locating her, he sighs. She gives him a delicate wave, just a fluttering of her fingers.

“Hi, Benny.”

“Yeah,” he responds heavily. “Hi.”

“I forgot my towel.”

“I bet you did.”

“And? Are you going to get it for me? I’m getting cold.”

She sees him slide his lower jaw to the side in frustration and contemplation, but, raising his eyebrows in a quick flick, he nods. The towel isn’t hard to find; she left it perfectly visible on purpose so he wouldn’t have to waste time searching. He walks towards her, shifting his gaze from her face to the floor and back. She understands the look—it’s that of a person trying to find a way out. They’ve alternated wearing it when sitting across from each other at a chessboard. He stops in front of the shower and extends the towel towards her, wearing a different expression: a man accepting that he’s been outmaneuvered.

“Thanks.”

Her arm shoots out as she takes it from him and snaps the curtain shut again. The reaction is clearly not what he was expecting because she hears him chuckle to himself.

“You’re cruel, Beth.”

She frowns, drying herself with unprecedented speed. She can see his silhouette through the curtain.

“How so?”

“You finally get me right where you want me and then you decide to toy with me.”

The sound of his feet scuffing across the floor reaches her as he walks away. Draped in the towel, she jerks the curtain open and chases him in stuttering steps. He turns and she freezes. Instinct makes her cross her arms behind her back, a habit from childhood that Mrs. Deardorff once told her to break as it made her appear secretive. Which she was.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I had to stretch it a moment longer. I don’t know what made me do it.”

“I do,” Benny tells her, squaring himself to face her fully. He grins. “Revenge.”

“Revenge? But I already—”

“Sure, you took the title from me, but you never got me back for discovering the flaw in your game against Beltik.”

Beth opens her mouth to argue only to close it again in a smile.

“Maybe you’re right.”

“I am, you know. Some of the time.”

He doesn’t disguise how his gaze rides a water droplet running down the side of her neck, over her collarbone, and into the towel after following the swell of her breast. She lets him look, then extends her hand, businesslike.

“Do you resign?”

Benny smiles and grips her hand.

“You play ruthlessly.”

“I play to win,” she corrects.

His fingers tighten around her hand and he tugs her in. Their first kiss has the force of a merciless endgame assault—true to form for them both. The noise that escapes her as the pressure of his mouth on hers tips her head back farther calls out to him. He clutches her against him and she feels the imprint of his hand distinctly through the towel. Unable to push him, she pulls instead, guiding him around until she advances on his bedroom backwards, fingers hooked in the neck of his black t-shirt.

In lieu of a king, Beth topples Benny—straight into his bed.

[lazaefair]

Has anyone done the Disney Princess AU yet

Part 1 - written by me, @poemsingreenink, and @iwritesometimes

poemsingreenink: Like, if anyone has big, soft innocent eyes it's Marwan who I swear to god looks near happy tears in most intense scenes. I at one point during Aladdin in theaters thought "You know Jafar's maybe just not had a great life. He's really having a day here." BECAUSE OF HIS BIG SOFT EYES.

lazaefair: LUCA MARINELLI HIMSELF SAID IT

sarah: HOWWWWW DID HE EVEN GET CAST AS JAFAR LIKE THOSE ARE DISNEY PRINCESS EYES

lazaefair: I...I need somone to draw Joe in a Disney Princess dress

sarah: but WHICH PRINCESS i feel like belle's off the shoulder gold ballgown has promise

lazaefair: Ariel’s pink gown would really drive the point home, though Although you’re right, Belle is a literate, dreamy brunette who loves poetry, so she’s closer as an archetype

sarah: i'll be honest: i was mostly thinking of getting his shoulders nude

lazaefair: Nicky is Ariel. Big blue eyes, otherworldly, utterly uncivilized.

sarah: YES

So imagine: Prince Yusuf, who had a giant statue of himself gifted to him on his birthday, and who hates it because his best friend (and immortal general of the army) Andromache is NEVER GOING TO LET HIM LIVE IT DOWN.

Also imagine: feral merman siren Nicolò who bites off fishheads and communicates through weird clicking noises, when he’s not singing men to their deaths. He’s not one of those useless pretty koi mermaids, no. He’s a motherfucking creature of the deep. Lamp eyes that are used to distract fish prey. Claws and pale fins and an intense stare and fangs.

Now imagine: Prince Yusuf going overboard in the storm that hits his royal yacht. Struggling, swept away, half-drowned and losing hope fast when an unearthly song fills the air, low and sweet and compelling. He’s swimming towards the singing before he realizes it, delirious, until something closes around his ankle and drags him under. The thing under the water kills him quickly.

And then kills him again, when it doesn’t take. After the third killing, Nicolò’s on his way to being well and truly mystified (“Okay, don't panic. They all die eventually, maybe...maybe I’ll just need to do it again?”) and gives up after the fourth and fifth killing. He drags his (attempted) prey to a little sheltered island he knows about, kills it one last time just to make sure, and then watches, resigned, as the flesh heals up and the lungs push water out until it’s coughing its way back to undeniable life.

“You rescued me,” is the first thing Yusuf says to him. “Your song – it is the song of my heart. My soul.”

Nicolò...has no idea what to do with this, coughs awkwardly in reply, and leaves before he can think too hard about the warmth in his chest answering to the warmth in the human’s expressive, grateful eyes.

(He doesn’t tell Yusuf the truth about their bloody first meeting until years later. It’s too goddamn embarrassing, to be perfectly honest.)

Of course he comes back within a day, almost shamefully quickly. Unable to help being fascinated by this gorgeous, well-spoken, kind and generous human who cannot die. He starts bringing things to Yusuf: at first just fish, then interesting-shaped fragments of rock and coral, and then bits of treasure he’s collected over the years, just to hear what new poetic turn of phrase Yusuf will spout on the spot when he’s given something.

“...this is my family crest on this treasure chest, Nicolò. How strange.”

“It is the chest you said your great-great-grandfather lost,” Nicolò says, the words coming out dry and halting from long years of disuse. Watching Yusuf’s hands as he traces the elaborate lines engraved on the lid, now blurred with rust and coral. 

“That’s amazing. Truly. I am at a loss for words,” Yusuf says, smiling.

“No, you aren’t,” Nicolò says, and keeps watching so he can see the moment when the smile turns into a laugh.

Another day, he brings to Yusuf what Booker had told him was called a ‘dinglehopper’ and was what humans used to keep their hair in order, as they did not have the ocean to spread it out like beautiful seaweed in the waves. Yusuf takes it, mouth twitching in a way that makes Nicolò doubt the accuracy of Booker’s explanation. Yet Yusuf does not correct him, but in fact solemnly thanks him before offering the dinglehopper back and asking him to help untangle his riot of curls.

And so it goes. Days pass. Fascination becomes infatuation, turns to desire and then into love, until neither can imagine living without the other, and yet—

Eventually, Nicolò has to give Yusuf up. The prince is too noble and good to just abandon his people indefinitely. And because Nicolò loves him, he goes out and once more lures a ship in with his song, but not to dash it to pieces on jagged rocks this time. He leads them to the island. Watches from a distance as the astonished shouting begins, then back-pounding hugs and joyous celebration as Yusuf boards the ship and sails away. Watches Yusuf turn back more than once to scan the beach, clearly looking for Nicolò, but Nicolò does not follow. Instead, he watches until the ship is lost to his sight and he cannot feel the ship’s current or smell, and then he dives deep and goes to visit Merrick.

Meanwhile, Yusuf arrives back at the capital, where his other best friend, Quỳnh (immortal admiral of the navy) feels terribly guilty about the prince going overboard on his birthday. Which is why she uncharacteristically doesn’t give him shit when he comes back babbling nonsense about mermaids. Or when he spends the next few weeks moping around, writing mermaid poetry and drawing mermaid pictures.

To be fair to him, the particular mermaid he sketches over and over does look pretty striking. Otherworldly and all that. Good cheekbones. Nice pearly scales. “Fucking...giant anglerfish eyes,” Quỳnh mutters while she and Andy look over the latest pile of sketches Yusuf’s left abandoned on a library table. “Our prince has been fucking bewitched by a fucking fish.”

“Mm,” Andy agrees. 

So when Nicolò arrives at the palace one fine summer’s day – naked, his fangs smoothed away to look perfectly human, a giant emerald in one hand and a silver fork in the other – and walking, on legs, it causes a bit of an uproar.

“You still smell like the sea,” Yusuf says hoarsely into Nicolò’s neck, the two of them wrapped around each other as closely as two bodies can be.

“Oh, fuck,” Andy says, lowering her axe. Quỳnh looks more closely at the dirty naked wild man their prince is embracing as if his life depends on it. Angular face. Skin encrusted with salt. Absolutely enormous piercing blue eyes. Naked, did we mention naked.

“Oh, fuck,” Quỳnh says.

“You get them separated,” Andy says. “I’ll go...get them a bath.”

The price Nicolò paid for his new human shape:

His siren song.

His immortality.

What he gets in return:

Yusuf teaching him what a dinglehopper is actually called, and what humans actually use it for.

Yusuf teaching him how to read and write his native tongue, and a few other tongues besides.

Yusuf reading poetry to him or sketching next to him on long lazy afternoons in the gardens.

The immense pleasure of intimidating the fuck out of any remaining would-be suitors for Yusuf’s hand in marriage who are still hanging around the palace for some reason.

“I am Nicolò di Genova,” Nicolò replies to the marquis’s indignant demands – predator’s smile still frightening even without endless rows of needle-sharp teeth. “You have seven days to leave this place forever. Get your affairs in order.”

Friendship with Andy and Quỳnh.

“Holy shit. Did he just—”

“—stab the marquis with a fork, at dinner, in front of the entire court? Yep.”

“...”

“...”

“New best friend.”

“Obviously.”

Yusuf writing poetry about him and to him. Nicolò likes them all. He wouldn't know a good human poem from a bad human poem, but nothing Yusuf touches could be bad, so ergo it's good.

Sightseeing throughout the kingdom with Yusuf’s strong, gentle fingers twined around his.

Yusuf breathing blissful curses into Nicolò’s ear, exactly like he used to do on their island, as they move together on his enormous bed.

Yusuf. Yusuf. Yusuf.

(Booker is also there. He insisted on being turned human, too, and coming along to make sure Nicolò doesn’t totally fuck this up, but he’s really mainly there for the entertainment. And the booze. Andy asks him at one point about losing his immortality. He shrugs. “Look, if we die, we die,” he says, then offers Andy another pour of fine French brandy. The two of them get along famously.)

It’s all going great until one night on the beach, while they’re walking along hand-in-hand under the stars and idly discussing human and merfolk constellations. Someone approaches them, dressed splendidly and moving with arrogant grace. He is also angular, also fair-haired, also possessed of unsettling eyes. And he has Nicolò’s siren song, gently humming from the shell that adorns his neck.

“Merrick,” Nicolò hisses as Yusuf’s eyes grow glazed and blank, and he tightens his hand on Yusuf’s, afraid for the first time. “Our deal—”

“He can’t bear the idea of living forever without you, can he? And so he hasn’t proposed,” Merrick says, smiling cruelly. “You’ve missed your chance. He’s mine.” And he extends his hand out to Yusuf—

Who stirs, suddenly, and turns to Nicolò. “Limpid, or shimmering?” 

“What?”

“Shimmering,” Yusuf decides, peering into Nicolò’s eyes. “Yes. Limpid would be too pretentious, I think.”

And that’s pretty much that – we don’t actually get the plot with Merrick the Sea Witch because Yusuf only has eyes for one weird-looking white guy. Also, his one artistic failing is that he's tone deaf.

They do eventually kill Merrick because true love wins out and we are all about those happy endings, Grimm’s can suck it, etcetera, so Nicolò gets his immortality and his siren song back. He’s also back to being a merman, but Yusuf does not care. “I could paint your beautiful tail for the rest of my life, my love, and still fail to capture the luminous iridescence of you,” he murmurs, stroking said tail with tender fingers. The last person to touch Nicolò’s tail got his hand bitten off. Here and now, Nicolò runs his claws through Yusuf’s hair, clicking deep and happy in his throat.

(“This is weird, right?” Quỳnh asks from where she and Andy are busy scraping evil kraken guts off their armor, a prudent distance down the beach from the lovers. “I’m not the only one who thinks it’s weird?”

Andy says nothing, just offers Quỳnh the rest of her bottle of vodka. This is why Quỳnh loves her so.)

(The wedding is a nightmare, at least according to the palace chef charged with cooking the wedding feast. “What is this, this, abomination? What in heaven’s name have you brought into my kitchen!”

“Tubeworm,” Booker says. “Considered a fine delicacy among our people. Don’t worry about it.”)

[hibisha]

Hello, a friend of yours said you might be able to recommend some radiodust fanfics, and it can be anything im not picky

RadioDust fanfics you say? Alright *cracks knuckles* here we go.

1.) The Charismatic Cannibal’s Guide to Self Care

Rating: E

Summary: Alastor chuckled around a hand. Angel would never get over how shark-like he could look. Fangs were the norm here, but Alastor’s had a certain animal quality that fit strangely in a humanoid face. Too big and too many. And right now they were tinged with a hint of red from his choice of drink.

“So what,” he said, “would liven up the place for you, sport?”

You might assume that Angel Dust is the bad influence in every situation. You would be wrong.

The Radio Demon has plans for Hell, and plans for Angel. And they aren't pretty.

Will contain gore/cannibalism/murder and plenty of fun, bad people. Please read the tags and content warning. Plot now, smut to follow.

Personal thoughts: It only one chapter so far but I really like the premise.

2.) Their Arrangement

Rating: E

Summary: Alastor and Angel Dust have come to an agreement after Angel pushes the Radio Demon's buttons a little too far and inadvertently awakens the long forgotten urges buried under decades of bloodlust.

Personal thoughts: One of my literal favorites. Alastor and Angel’s evolving relationship from sex friends to ‘oh shit I have feelings’ *chef’s kiss*.

3.) Absolute Territory

Rating: E

Summary: Angel Dust is an absolute terror for Absolute Territory.

Alastor never knew he had a thing for stockings until Angel decides to flaunt a pair, matched with a pleated skirt and an oversized sweatshirt.

Personal thoughts: Have some good ol’ smut.

4.) Heart Between His Teeth

Rating: E

Summary: So maybe there are better things to life than being drugged and fucked so hard you can't even think for yourself.

Personal thoughts: OMFG. I CAN NOT STRESS ENOUGH HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS FIC.

5.) Angel Dust’s Not So Illustrious Life

Rating: T

Summary: Alastor isn’t sure why he’s become Angel’s primary target, but the more he attempts to dissuade Angel’s advances, the more fervent they seem to become.

And maybe Alastor likes that...maybe...Yet it seems there’s more to Angel than innuendos and a quick romp.

Personal thoughts: I kinda love this fic a lot where Angel and Alastor respect each other’s boundaries.

6.) Caught In His Own Web

Rated:E

Summary: "So when the devil wants to dance with you, you better say never. Because the dance with the devil might last you forever."

Redemption is hard when you don't want to do it. Redemption is even harder when a certain Radio Demon keeps enabling your sinful behavior.

Personal thoughts: My favourite trope, bad people being worse together.

7.) I Thought I Knew You 

Rated: M

Summary: Angel Dust can't ruin the hotel's reputation if he can't go outside. Or, at least, that's what Alastor says. Of course, it's all a ploy to torture Alastor's least favorite spider demon, but maybe he doesn't know Angel Dust as well as he thinks he does.

Personal thoughts: I really like this one especially since it feeds into my “Alastor is a dick in all AUs.”

8.) Sex, drugs and radio host

Rating: E

Summary: For some ungodly reason, Alastor decides to keep Angel safe and sound - meaning no sex, prostitution and certainly no drugs. Of course, this wild idea is met with more than a little resistance. But... no one ever cared if Angel was safe. And sometimes, all he would like is a hug. Sex sure is nice, but he is more than willing to explore the possibilities.

The trouble is, it doesn't seem like Alastor is offering anything specific. Keeping things strange and vague is not helping, especially when a new guest catches Alastor's attention.

Personal thoughts: Its cute and theres feelings involved is all I’m saying.

9.) Gentleman's Wager 

Rating: None

Summary: Sick of listening to Angel Dust's crass and vulgar language, Alastor makes a bet with him. If Angel Dust can remain absolutely silent for one whole week, he'll give in and kiss him.

Personal thoughts: *inhales* JVKJGCHJCHJCVJHVJHGCJHCJHCGFD I LOVE THIS SO MUCH PLEASE READ IT.

10.) Triggered 

Rating: None

Summary: Angel Dust had never really thought too much about the static hum surrounding Alastor wherever he went... until now anyway.

Personal thoughts: It's a very good fic about ANgel dealing with PTSD. Def check it out.

11.) Dinner and Drinks 

Rating: None

Summary: Alastor and Angel Dust can barely tolerate each other and Charlie seeks to fix that.

Personal thoughts: Again, a slow development of Angel and Alastor’s relationship.

12.) You Do Something to Me 

Rating: T

Summary: Alastor's radio signals go both ways, and for the past few decades he's tuned into the most beautiful voice. What a surprise to find the source in the Happy Hotel right under his nose.

A relationship that grows through music.

Personal thoughts: AGAIN, PLEASE READ THIS IT IS CUTE HECK AND WILL CLEAR YOUR SKIN. Also, its part 2: No One Knows Anything But Us 

13.) 1932

Rating: M

Summary: The 1930s are the for perfect time to nurture any up-and-coming radio host or serial killer alike. Alastor is no exception.

Set in New Orleans in 1932, Alastor is living his best life. Broadcaster by day and home chef by night, he's learned that Jumbalaya is best served with a side of human liver and a still beating heart. That is until he brings the wrong meal to his table, a member of the Italian mafia, and ends up biting off more than he can chew.

With his latest meal escaping the table and his identity running the risk of being found out, Alastor faces his biggest hunt yet. The streets of New Orleans are his forest and this time, it's his head on the platter.

AKA Alastor screws up and now has to fix his mess in Dixieland while balancing his day job, cannibalistic hunger, and learn how to be a decent human being for once along the way. Should be fun.

Personal thoughts: I absolutely adore this fic. Please give it a shot.

14.) Contracts and Deals Series

Rating: E

Summary: Angel Dust, Hell's number one porn actor.

Alastor, Hell's most renowned overlord.

The two cross paths.

Angel makes a deal with Alastor to get out of his contract with Valentino. One thing leads to another.

Personal thoughts: It’s a good series that eventually gets really fluffy.

15.) Good Management

Rating: M

Summary: Alastor thought he had Angel Dust filed away into his niche box in the Hotel. He was wrong. But he's a good enough manager to fix his responsibilities.

Personal thoughts: Its AngeliaDark. You know it’s good.

16.) Anything for you

Rating: M

Summary: Valentino faces the consequences of hurting someone that Alastor deeply favors

i.e. Val fucking dies

Personal thoughts: Any fic where Val dies is a good fic.

17.) Predator and Prey

Rating: M

Summary: Every couple of years, Angel Dust goes through a change that makes him a lot less tolerable to be around, for many more reasons than one. The staff of the Hotel are about to learn that the hard way, none more so than Alastor.

Personal thoughts: Okay so, slight dubcon, would recommend checking the tags before going into it. Though I love how it tackles on the story of Alastor being a deer which is technically a prey animal and Angel being the predator for once. Absolutely love it.

18.) Good Tidings 

Rating: T

Summary: A Christmas party in Hell isn't the big selling point for the Happy Hotel (For Hazbins), but Charlie feels that the holiday season is just what her friends need to open up to and help one another.

So what better way to do it than with a Secret Santa?

When Angel Dust draws none other than his crush, the Radio Demon, he knows he has one shot to not eff it up.

Personal thoughts: Really fluffy, a good read. Highly recommend it.

19.) Vanilla Bean

Rating: T

Summary: Alastor decides to try his hand at pet names and inadvertently offends Angel Dust. Rated T for swearing and there's suggestive content if you close one eye, tilt your head, and squint.

Personal thoughts: Okay so i loved this one because of how badly these two handle communication.

20.) For Auld Lang Syne, My Dear

Rating: M

Summary: Alastor's solitude is interrupted by Angel Dust who has just escaped a rough client and the two spend the last moments of 2019 together.

Personal thoughts: Love love love this. I just love Angel and Alastor dancing together okay.

21.) I Like It Better When I'm With You 

 Rating: M

Summary: Angel deals with feelings. Alastor deals with feelings. Just a whole lot of pining.

Personal thoughts: Summary says it all.

22.) Technical Difficulties

Rating: M

Summary: The hotel is running relatively well. Relationships between Alastor and the rest of the staff are budding surprisingly smoothly. And then the rainfall starts up, threatening all of it.

Alastor's out of tune.

Personal thoughts: I love how this is written. Slowburn but worth it.

23.) Lurking in the Shadows 

Rated M

Summary: 5 instances where a curious and head-over-heels shadow follows Angel Dust around and 1 time where Angel decides to follow it instead.

Personal thoughts: It’s very cute how Alastor’s shadow pines after Angel.

24.) Crossroads

Rating: M

Summary: A mafioso’s and a murderous radio star’s paths collide in New Orleans in the winter of 1933.

Personal thoughts: OKAY SO I REALLY LOVE THIS BECAUSE HUMAN AUS ARE MY JAM AND THEN ALASTOR AND ANGEL BEING TERRIBLE HUMANS TOGETHER IS EVEN BETTER.

25.) Needle Through a Bug

Rating: E

Summary: Angel wakes up in a hospital after a party. His doctor is very strange, worryingly so. Still, he can't help but be intrigued.

Personal thoughts: Doctor AU. Alastor is insane. I love it because Alastor manages to be as creepy as possible while saving lives.

26.) My Roommate's a Demonic Deer 

 Rating: M

Summary: Don't you hate it when you "accidentally" summon a demon to fix a problem within your home, only to find out that they don't do that, so now you're stuck with a cannibalistic demon that constantly tracks blood onto the floor, brings other unholy beings into your apartment, and makes amazing jambalaya? It's amazing insanity!

Personal thoughts: Lmao I love demon summoning gone wrong so this was really an amazing read. Angel being a true himbo is always the best.

27.) Human Hazbin Roommates AU series

Rating: E, M

Summary: A series of porny RadioDust one-shots depicting modern human AU roommate life.

Notes:

Glimpses into the human lives of insufferable roommates.

(AKA This was supposed to be a practice at writing present tense smut and it devolved into sex and feelings)

Personal thoughts: Dive in for the smut, come out with the feels.

28: Darker Side of Hell series

Rating: E

Summary: Follow Charlie and later Alastor as part of my Story for the Hazbin hotel... It ain't pretty, so enjoy!

Personal thoughts: Not everyone’s cup of tea so i suggest reading the tags but I really love this series a lot. Angel being awkward and in love is the best shit ever. Its an amazing series.

29.) Scorched, Uninhabited, Rejected

Rating: M

Summary: When Hell suddenly loses all working functions, and angels start dropping from their overhead perches to attack the underworlds population, Charlie has no idea what to do before she's suddenly face to face with a Archangel. Though something, clearly, isn't right about the air the angel assures her to keep those who are dear tucked tightly by her side as the disaster struggles to fix itself.

But nothing is as it seems, Overlords' powers are dwindling and even her own is becoming strained as she struggles to protect her beloved hotel and friends from the Exterminators outside.

Personal thoughts: *vibrates* Can’t say much without spoilers so I’m just gonna beg ya all to read this.

30.) The Thin Line

Rating: None

Summary: Studies say it takes fifty hours of interaction before you consider someone a casual friend and two hundred to be a close friend. Alastor and Angel Dust manage to skip right past close friends to something more without either even noticing they've crossed the line.

31.) La Vie En Rose

Rating: G

Summary: Alastor learns that Angel is afraid of thunderstorms, and Angel in turn learns about the Radio Demon.

32.) falling 

Rating: M

Summary: "You're hot as fuck, be my boyfriend."

That was perhaps the worst thing he could've possibly said from that standpoint.

A college setting where Angel gets suddenly awful at flirting when it comes to the face of his crush, a cute library assistant that goes by Alastor.

Personal thoughts: COLLEGE AU COLLEGE AU. 

33.) Old Habits Die Hard

Rating: G

Summary: Angel decides to bring back a little habit of his after having a rough time.

Personal thoughts: Hella soft, please read.

34.) Handwritten 

Rating: None

Summary: Alastor imagines Angel must be lonely in heaven, he writes to keep him company.

 A series of letters addressed to Angel.

Personal thoughts: Hi, do you like crying into your pillow at 2 AM? You do? The look no further, this is the fic for you! Now, with extra heart wrenching feels!

35.) Relapse and Recovery

Rating: T

Summary: Going clean was never going to be easy, but easy was something Angel Dust never expected going into this anyway. At least he has a good support system to help him along the way.

Personal thoughts: I just really like AngeliaDark’s fics okay.

36.) Catalyst

Rating: T

Summary: All couples have their downfalls, and an event that should have been celebrated only drives Alastor and Angel Dust apart.

Personal thoughts: Love love love this. It’s very well written, reads easy and you’ll feel fluffy for days.

37.) Dinner Date: A RadioDust Tale

Rating: E

Summary: Angel Dust finally finds a way to get Alastor to agree to a 'date'. After all, the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.

Sometimes literally.

Personal thoughts: One of my favourite stories about RadioDust.

38.) This One's Dedicated to [static interruption]

Rating: M

Summary: A couple of years since the hotel's opening, the residents have settled down into a fairly tolerable routine. Recently, some of them have begun experiencing peculiar symptoms which become more noticeable as time passes. To his dismay, the Radio Demon finds that he is not immune.

A chance encounter with Angel Dust propels the two demons together as they attempt to answer what's behind the unusual phenomena, while rediscovering all the things they thought dead and buried along the way.

Personal thoughts: Slowburn but definitely worth it. I love the story and how it’s progressing with a certain mystery surrounding the whole plot.

Also slight self plug I guess:

39.) 14 ways to say “I Love You”

Rating: T

Summary: Just a collection of small drabbles I’m writing on based on single word prompts.

Please check it out if you’re a fan of odd AUs.

Wowee, that’s a lot. I’m gonna call it a night and say that’s all for today. I hope you enjoy these! 

[gumnut-logic]

The Tattoo (Part Ten, Bit 2 - The End)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven - Bit 1| Bit 2 | Part Eight - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Part Nine | Part Ten - Bit 1 | Bit 2

Okay, I’ve been staring at this all day. I have no idea what I’ve written anymore so I’m just going to dump this here and run ::hugs::

For @vegetacide​ cos it is her fault. Many thanks to @tsarinatorment​ @vegetacide​ and @scribbles97​ for the read throughs, plot help and support. This was a bloody hard one to write. It started with Virgil, but Scott ate me alive. 2848 words, fic total 18,111 words.

I hope you enjoy whatever the result was.

-o-o-o-

“Son, sit down.” He waved him to a chair across from him.

A sigh. So, interview it was.

He loved his father. Would go to the ends of the solar system and beyond for him, but some things never changed. Jeff Tracy was a determined man.

At least Scott knew where he got it from.

He killed the coffee machine and made his way back to the table, this time taking up a seat that set his back to the shadow of Mateo.

Grey eyes latched onto him.

“I’m proud of you son.”

Blink.

His father reached over and took his hand.

Scott’s eyes widened. Dad had never been one for a great deal of physical contact, but that had changed since he came back. Scott stared at the scarred fingers holding his.

“Son, I…” His father swallowed. “I need to know your brother is okay.”

Scott frowned. “Virgil is okay, Dad. I promise.” It was what he had been saying all along.

A drawn out sigh. “I need to know if being part of International Rescue is in Virgil’s best interest.”

Eyes widening, Scott pulled back, his hand slipping from his father’s as his back straightened. “Dad, no.”

A held-up hand. “Hear me out.”

“Dad, this happened a long time ago. International Rescue is our lives, Virgil’s life. You can’t take it away from him.” A pause. “I won’t let you.”

Those old grey eyes latched on to him and his father’s lips thinned. “Is he on medication?”

“Dad, you need to speak to V-“

“Is he on medication?”

“Yes. It is handled and monitored. Virgil is fine, Dad!”

His father made a sorrowful sound that cut Scott to the quick, before burying his face in his hands. “I wish…” It was muffled, but Scott heard it. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. If I had known…” But his voice drifted off and Scott was left staring at his father, his heart sinking more by the minute.

“We made it, Dad. We’re okay.”

His father’s head shot up. “How can you say that? Virgil is suffering from a mental illness exacerbated by his job. Yet you tell me he should keep doing that job despite what it is costing him.”

Voice quiet but firm. “It is his decision, Dad.”

“And what happens if it becomes too much? What if-“

“Dad! It is under control. Virgil is an adult. He knows what he is doing and yes, if something does go wrong, he has all of us. We back each other up. None of us are perfect. We work as a team.”

Grey eyes snapped at him. “What else don’t I know?”

Scott held back a snarl. “What else do you want to know? If you think I’m going to give you the lowdown on all my brother’s personal information, dream on, Dad.”

Those eyes didn’t falter. “Then what about you?”

“What about me? Have I had moments? Of course, I have. You know this job, Dad. It can be hell. And yes, there is a whisky stash in your desk. There always has been.” He returned that piercing glare with one of his own.

“I never claimed to be perfect, son.”

“And neither did we. Virgil’s mental health is his business. He prefers to keep it to himself. I’m aware of it. It is being managed. End of discussion.”

The steel in his father’s eyes did not vanish. “I only want what is best for my children.”

Scott’s lips thinned as he stood up. “We’re not children anymore.”

“I know that, son, but I’m still your parent.”

The tension in Scott’s shoulders only tightened. “Dad-“

“You know, I always remember Scotty being a bit of a clone of you, Dad, but up until now, I’d never really seen how much.”

A blink as Gordon slipped out of the darkness beside the stairs. He had his swimwear on and a towel thrown over his shoulder. His posture was casual, but Scott could see the tension in his shoulders. “Gordon-“

“Hey, Dad, welcome to the whacky world that is International Rescue, your local rescue organisation run by five brothers of questionable sanity. Here be the eldest, a strong, masculine heartbreaker who has an obsession complex that can drive the whole family out of the solar system. His back up and apparently medicated…” He glared at Scott. “…second in command, artist and sensitive type who takes on far too much and suffers for it. Coordinated by our communications guru who is so introverted he can’t go to parties without breaking a sweat. Not to mention our aquanaut who suffers from PSTD because his body was broken six ways to Sunday and yet still managed to survive. And finally, our kid brother who has yet to be traumatised enough to sport a mental illness, but give him time.” A sigh. “Honestly, Dad, what did you expect?”

“Gordon!”

“Scott, c’mon! Face it. It’s a hard job. We do it. Shit happens.”

Their father climbed to his feet. “Are you finished, son?”

Gordon glared at his father. “That depends.” His lips tightened. “Are you seriously considering pulling Virgil from IR?”

Scott flared. “That is not on the table.”

That earned him a brown-eyed glare. “Isn’t it? The fact you are questioning Virgil’s ability to do a job he has excelled at for years…” The glare returned to his father. “I just thought I’d let you know that if you do choose to do that, you can go find yourself another aquanaut. Because Virg goes? I’m going with him.”

“Virgil isn’t going anywhere!” The mere thought of losing any of his brothers… “Gordon, Dad just had some questions-“

“Yeah, questioning if the heart of this outfit was able to do his job.” Gordon rounded on his father again. “If you had seen what Virgil is capable of, you wouldn’t have any questions.”

“Gordon, for god’s sake!”

Their father held up a hand. “It’s fine, Scott. As you said, Gordon has a right to his opinion.” His voice was quiet enough to bring Gordon’s ire to a halt and the sudden gap in conversation let the sounds of the ocean in through the open doors. “But as your father, I have a right to my opinion also. I need information. Scott has been in command for those eight years, so I am asking him for a report.”

“On our brother.”

“On a staff member of International Rescue.” An indrawn breath. “And my son.”

“Then perhaps you should speak to your son.” Those brown eyes flared.

“I intend to.” Those grey eyes turned back to Scott. “However, I was hoping to put him through the least amount of stress by gathering enough information beforehand, in particular what instigated this issue.”

Scott straightened again. “I’m sorry, Dad. That is not my story to tell.”

“Even as Commander of International Rescue?”

Ever so quiet as his eyes held his father’s. “Even then.”

They were all interrupted by the whine of a not-quite-out-of-teenagerhood-despite-being-an-adult at the top of the stairs. “Oh, c’mon, John. I don’t need a warm milk.”

Smooth musical tones. “You had a nightmare, Alan. Warm milk is the best option for a quick return to sleep.”

“Really? Have you got a stash up on Five? Doesn’t that UHT milk taste vile?”

“It’s an acquired taste.”

“Blech!” His little brother caught sight of the three of them. “Wha-? What’s going on?”

Scott just felt sad as Alan and John took the last few steps into the room. But then John’s eyes had that wiser-than-you-know look about them and Scott’s shoulders knotted just that bit more.

Hiding anything from John was futile. And Alan?

John played for keeps.

As if subjected to an antibiotic for anger, Gordon’s stance changed immediately. “Woah, John, you got the squirt up before the sun? How did you manage that without the side effect of death?”

“He had a nightmare.” There was something in his brother’s eyes.

“John! Geez, it was only a bad dream. I’m not a little kid anymore!”

“One that had you screaming.”

“John!”

Scott stepped around the table. “You okay, Allie?”

“Oh, god, John. Now look what you did.”

The elder astronaut had a rather knowing smirk on his face.

Scott glared at him.

He put a hand on Alan’s shoulder anyway and squeezed gently.

His little brother growled at him. “I’m fine. It was time to get up anyway.”

“It’s before noon, Alan.”

“Shut up, Gordon.”

“Hey, I just have your teenage need for sleep at heart.”

“Shut up, Gordon.”

“That’s enough, you two.”

“He started it!”

“Alan.”

“Scccottttt…” It was pure whine and a strong sign that Gordon was probably right. Alan needed more sleep.

“You going to grab some warm milk?”

“Heck, no. That was John’s idea. I was just going to plug in some tunes, but he demanded I come down here. What are you guys doing anyway? Dad?”

Scott shot John with his eyes. This was worth a discussion later.

The smart ass just shrugged and smiled that smile of his.

“Dad?” Alan left Scott and hurried over to the table. “You okay?”

Scott spun to find their father reaching for his cane. Alan was there in a second and handed it to him. His little brother had an arm wrapped around his father and whether his help was wanted or not, he gave it.

“Are you okay, Alan?”

Alan rolled his eyes. “I’m fine, Dad. Johnny is just making a big thing out of nothing.”

As usual, the ‘Johnny’ moniker riled the astronaut. “You were calling Virgil’s name.”

The room froze.

Alan shot daggers at John from under his father’s arm. “Thanks a bunch.”

John tilted his head. “Well, you were.” He held up his hands. “Just trying to help.” But his eyes flickered to Scott.

He glared back. Yeah, right.

John’s small smirk just wound Scott up further.

But he would kill his middle brother later, right now, Alan was the concern. “You want to talk about it?”

“Nooo.”

“Is this about Virgil’s tattoo?” His father’s voice was quiet and a little sad.

“I’m fine, Dad. I’m eighteen. Not a kid anymore.” It wasn’t a ‘no’.

“Age has nothing to do with dreams, son. I have nightmares all the time. Even some about you.”

Alan shrunk back just a little. “Me?”

Their father nodded and Scott’s heart finished its plummet somewhere amongst the flagstones.

“About all of you. Sometimes you’re calling out to me and I can’t answer. Sometimes you’re hurting and I can’t help. Sometimes all of you are just gone.” He looked up at Scott. “In more ways than one. That I’ve lost you. That my one misstep cost us everything. Even now I find it hard to believe that all of you are here safe and sound.” His voice hitched on that last word and Scott knew the truth. Knew that they weren’t as sound as they could be.

“We’re here, Dad. All of us.” Alan was looking up at his father in that same way that eleven-year-old had looked up at Scott all those years ago. Eighteen years or not, his little brother still had faith.

“I know.” He tilted his head and caught Alan up in his arms, burying his face in his youngest’s hair. “It doesn’t stop the dreams, though, kiddo. I’m still scared.”

Scott swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry, Dad.” It was muffled against their father’s shirt.

“Not your fault. I just wanted you to realise that we all have bad dreams from time to time.”

“Heh, I know. Gordon walks and talks in his sleep.”

“Hey! I’m over that!”

Alan poked his head up. “Newsflash, bro. Virg had to lead you back to bed three nights ago. Found you by the pool at two am talking to your ‘coach’.”

“Aw, shit.”

“Language, son.”

Gordon ignored his father. “Why didn’t Virgil tell me?”

Scott was more concerned as to why Virgil hadn’t told him.

“Dunno. You’ll have to ask him.”

Gordon muttered to himself about locks and tying himself to the bed.

Dad looked at Scott. “How long has this been a problem?”

Yet another sigh. “Long term, Dad. Left over from the Olympics. Flares when he’s worried. Hasn’t happened for a while. We have strategies.”

“Are there any other issues I don’t know about?” It was asked of the room at large, but Scott knew it was aimed at him. He pressed his lips together.

“Plenty, but they are all managed and safe.” The familiar baritone echoed down the stairwell and Virgil, trailing Grandma, was the last brother to join them.

His dark eyes ranged over the family gathering, obviously making an assessment and drawing conclusions. “Did I miss a meeting?”

His brother’s arm was strapped up but he was otherwise shirtless. It was obviously a statement because Virgil never went shirtless…ever.

He looked tired and worn.

“Virg, what are you doing up?”

It was Grandma who answered. “He needed his medication and I thought he could do with something in his belly before he goes back to bed.” She stepped past her grandson and headed towards the kitchen.

A quick glance at Gordon and the aquanaut was moving. “Hey, Grandma, let me help you with that…” He followed her into the kitchen proper obviously vetoing any villa-burning-down attempts in the making.

Virgil took the last few steps onto the flagstones and eyeing all of them, made his way towards Scott, suspicion on his face. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Some.”

“Obviously not enough.”

He turned to their father. “Dad, you’re up a little early, too. Anything I can help you with?”

It was a blatant barb. It was obvious Virgil thought he was the topic of discussion and Scott didn’t blame him.

“Just finding my feet again, son.”

Virgil nodded once before turning to Alan who was still holding onto their Dad. “You okay, Allie?”

“He had a bad dream, Virg.” It was shouted from the kitchen.

“Gordon, I’m gonna kick your ass!”

“You and what army, squirt?”

“Gordon!” It was choral – Scott, Virgil, John, Dad and Grandma.

“That army, idiot!”

“Alan!” Same chorus, younger name.

“He started it.”

“He always starts it and you always fall for it.” Scott glared at his little brother. He really was too tired for this. “It’s early. Get yourself some food or drink and back to bed. I’m going for my run.” The early morning pre-dawn glow was now bright enough to see by and not kill himself. God, he needed some time alone.

The expression on his father’s face clearly showed the man wanted to talk further. “Dad, give it time, please?”

His father blinked, but didn’t say anything.

“Trust me.”

He straightened. “I trust you, Scott.”

“Thank you.”

Scott turned to Virgil. “And you, wear your uniform next time. Don’t think I didn’t notice, Thunderbird Two.” He threw a glare at his second for emphasis.

That brought his brother up short. “FAB.”

“And fix whatever caused the accident so it doesn’t happen again.”

“Uh.” Virgil appeared suddenly panicked.

“Virg? What did cause you to fall?”

His brother’s face fell and he slumped with a wince. “A bat startled me.”

“What?”

“Did I just hear that correctly?” Gordon was far too gleeful in the kitchen. “Did you get scared by a bat?!”

“Shut up, Gordon.” It was the chorus again.

The aquanaut might have said something more, but a small explosion on the stove had him yelping and hurrying to wipe milk off the walls.

“It was a bat, okay? It startled me, I stepped back and fell. Can we ignore that now, please?”

“I’ll speak to Brains about finding a bat deterrent to keep them off the ‘birds.” Scott was firm.

Virgil turned to him and there was nothing but gratitude in his eyes.

“And if I hear anyone bugging Virgil about this, they will be cleaning all six of Two’s modules with a toothbrush. Is that clear?”

There was a muttering of assent among his brothers.

Gordon had milk in his hair.

Scott turned to John. “You and I will be having words, Thunderbird Five.”

“What did I do?” The astronaut was innocence itself.

“Strong words, Thunderbird Five.” He glared even more for emphasis.

John shrugged. “FAB.”

Alan. His littlest brother was still holding their father and didn’t appear to be separating from him any time soon. “Allie, you want to talk. Any of us will listen, you know that. Dad included.”

The young astronaut looked at his feet. “I know, Scott. Thank you.”

“We all have bad times. We get through them together.” His eyes drifted up to his father. “We do this together.”

Those strong arms held Alan even tighter and his father gave him a single nod.

Scott took a step back and stared at his family, wishing briefly that Kayo was home and Penny, Parker and Brains were there as well, even if just to complete the picture.

“Grandma, I love you. Gordon, don’t burn the kitchen down.”

And with that, he turned towards the pool, ran out on the deck and into the beginnings of the day.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[yelena-bellova]

Don’t Be Afraid: Poe Dameron x Solo!Reader - Chapter Four

Chapter Four: A Trip To Jakku

Series Masterlist

Plot: One week after Poe and Reader’s evening together, they’re called into a meeting regarding the map to Luke Skywalker.

Warnings: Angst, angst galore and a tiny bit of language.

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: PHEW. We’ve arrived at TFA and I’m so excited. Do any other writers ever spend so much time writing something that you’re simultaneously proud of and also hate? Cause that’s how I feel about this lol. We also get to spend some time with BB-8 and I decided to write dialogue for him because I’ve always wondered what droids are saying. I apologize for any typos, my hands are doing better at typing but they’re not perfect yet. ENJOY!!

——————

One week later

——————

Clearly the galaxy had taken pity on me and decided to throw me a bone. I had been buried in work for the past week leaving me very little time to dwell on my problems. Reports came flying in from various missions and I was in several meetings each day. Me, my mother and a few higher-ups even had to take a two day trip to Mon Calamari for a meeting with their monarchy. All in all, I was pleased to be back in the thick of my job.

Poe and I were as normal as we could be after the night we’d spent together. We hadn’t seen much of each other due to work, but when we were together there was very noticeable tension between us. I caught myself stealing glances at him when he was in the room, ducking my head quickly if he turned in my direction. He seemed to look at me with a newfound intensity in his dark brown eyes that would send a shiver down my spine. Whatever had changed that night seemed to be affecting both of us.

After a late meeting one day with Lieutenant Connix, I was able to escape the command center for a break. As I walked through the halls, I tugged at the collar of my dark green commander’s uniform. It was the most uncomfortable outfit anyone in the galaxy could have the misfortune of wearing. I’d never pulled the ‘General’s Daughter’ card to gain special privilege, but I’d tried to convince my mom several times to let me wear something different. I made a mental note to try asking her one more time...

Too busy scratching my neck, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going and bumped into something. I looked down to see a familiar orange and white droid looking up at me,

“Bee, I’m so sorry! You okay?” I asked, kneeling to the ground.

I’m okay, don’t worry.

“Well, I’m still sorry. Where’re you headed?”

I was sent to come get you. The General needs to see you right away.

I furrowed my brows, “Okay, she didn’t say anything when I saw her this morning.”

She said it’s a new development.

“Oh, lead the way then!”

I rose from the ground and walked side by side with the droid, wondering why he was coming to get me when he was Poe’s droid. If my mother needed to see me, she usually sent 3PO.

We arrived quickly at one of the smaller meeting rooms and I knocked on the door softly.

“Come in.” I heard my mother’s voice call.

BB-8 and I both entered, me shutting the door behind us. I turned to see my mother sitting at the small table with Poe sitting across from her.

“Sit down, Commander,” my mother instructed, noticing the confused expression on my face.

I awkwardly sat down next to Poe, knowing it had been a few days since we’d talked. He gave me a smile and a wink, nonetheless and I relaxed into my seat.

“Commander Solo, Commander Dameron,” my mother began in her most serious tone of voice, “The information that I am about to tell you is beyond confidential. You are not to speak a word of this meeting to anyone else. The only people that are to know about what is said in this room are the three of us and BB-8.”

“Understood, General.” Poe and I replied in unison, BB-8 also letting out a beep of agreement.

She sighed, “We have made contact with Lor San Tekka and he has confirmed that he is in possession of the map we’ve been looking for.”

My jaw dropped slightly, this was it. It was happening. I looked over to Poe who gave me a toothy grin before looking back to my mother.

“That being said, we have very little time to move before the First Order inevitably learns of this also. I’m dispatching you both to Jakku to retrieve the map.”

Internally, I breathed a sigh of relief that I was being sent. I was worried that my mother would see my going on this mission as an issue and-

“However, Commander Solo, your presence on this paticular mission is conditional.”

Spoke too soon.

“How so?”

Leia sighed and folded her hands together on the table, “Due to your personal attachment to the item in question, it is a possibility that your judgement could become clouded. It goes without saying that there is no room for mistake with this. Therefore,” she glanced over at Poe briefly, “even though you are both equally ranked, Commander Dameron will be leading this mission.”

I tilted my head slightly, opening my mouth to say something but never finding the words needed to express what I felt. Instead the only thing I could get out was,

”What?”

Leia looked down for a second before facing me, “In times like these, we cannot afford to take any risks and placing someone with a personal stake in a mission in charge is a risk. This is not an insult to you, Commander, you are a valuable asset to this mission.”

I could practically feel Poe tense up next to me, clearly he knew that I wasn’t going to take the news well. And how was I supposed to take it? What we were going to retrieve had to do with my family and I wasn’t even put in charge of it?

I folded my hands, matching my mother’s diplomatic position involuntarily, and forced a fake smile on my face,

“Well, to be frank, General, I don’t agree with the choice. I believe I’m perfecty capable of handling myself and keeping my emotions in check,” my voice was dripping with bitterness, “I would never let a personal interest get in the way of the Resistance’s goal. However, if you believe that Commander Dameron is more suited in leading the mission, then that is your decision. I will, of course, play any part I can in this operation.”

Poe had a hand to his temple by the end of my speech, while my mother simply kept her eyes locked with mine in a silent standoff.

“Is that all, Commander?” She finally asked, her tone firm, letting me know that the discussion was over.

I conceded, sitting back in my chair with my hands in my lap, “Yes, General.”

“Alright, the two of you leave in an hour. Because of the severity of this mission, there will not be any communications allowed so don’t bother packing them. Commander Solo, there will be a ship waiting for you to take. I will personally see the both of you off in the hanger.”

“Yes, General.” Poe answered, for the both of us as I stayed silent.

“Meeting adjourned,” Leia stated, the three of us standing and BB-8 rolling closer to join us. I left the room first, making a beeline for my quarters with no interest of speaking to anyone.

Once I got into my room, I let my tears flow freely as I leaned against the door. I was frustrated with my mother for not trusting me enough to be in charge of the mission. But more importantly, I was mad at myself because she was 100% right in making the call. My emotions couldn’t be kept in check when it came to my family and there was a considerable chance they would cloud my judgement. I would make some rash, impulsive decision and jeopardize the whole thing.

After a few minutes of crying into my hands, I wiped them on my uniform and dried my eyes. I had less than an hour to get into mission mode, to forget everything I was feeling and focus on what was at stake. I took a deep breath, knowing exactly what I needed to do to ensure I was present.

I walked to the center of the room, dropped to the floor and crossed my legs. My hands found my knees and gripped them gently, I closed my eyes and leaned into the familiar feeling. I focused on the Force, picturing it moving all around me and anchoring me to the ground. I pictured it flowing through me, into the deepest darkest parts of me that no one knew about. I pictured my anger, my sadness, my frustration, and allowed it to wrap around them like a tight embrace to keep someome from moving.

Just like that, I felt at peace.

Opening my eyes and taking a breath, I slowly rose from the ground and walked to my dresser. I grabbed a pair of tan pants, a white tee shirt, my dark brown leather jacket and a matching colored pair of combat boots. I changed quickly, knowing that my meditation had taken longer than I’d thought. I clipped a holster belt to my waist and placed my blaster inside the main holster.

Knowing that I’d regret not taking it, I reached over to my desk drawer and grasped my lightsaber. I hadn’t picked it up in a week since my last training session, too afraid of having another flashback. I had zero intention of using it today, and I probably wouldn’t need it, but I wanted extra protection should the worst happen. I’d long ago installed a holster clip inside each of my jackets to hold the lightsaber and I never went on a mission without it. I begrudgingly secured it and as soon as I felt it familiarly hit my side, I felt eased.

“Stupid....thing,” I grumbled, staring down at the inanimate object.

A knock at the door interrupted me from insulting any more of my weapons. It was too forceful to be my mother and I doubted she wanted to speak to me. I pressed the button to open the door and found Poe on the other side.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, I gestured for him to come in and he entered. I closed the door and turned to Poe, who was standing in thee middle of the room with his hands on his hips. He wore a similar outfit to mine, though his shirt had a deeper neck line that showed off a peak of his toned chest. He’d tried to tame his curls best he could, but one or two still fell loose.

It was wildly unfair that someone could look so distractingly perfect all the time.

“Look,” he began, “I know it doesn’t help, but I didn’t know anything about any of this before the meeting.”

I shrugged, “It helps and it doesn’t help. But I am sorry that you had to see me act like such a child.”

“Y/n, I completely understand why you’d want to be in charge of this mission,” he said, his tone sincere, “But if we’re being honest you-“

”I could do something because it has to do with my family. Unfortunately, I agree.”

Poe’s lip curled up a little, “Well, I was gonna be a little nicer about it but yeah, that’s a possibility.”

I chuckled and took a few small steps towards him, crossing my arms, “No need to be nice, I was unreasonable. Sometimes I’m just so desperate to piece my family back together, I’d run headfirst into battle just for a shot at it.”

Poe simply listened, his brown eyes clouded with sadness, he knew all about the meaning of family. He’d lost his mother at such a young age, but she still meant he world to him.

“I’m not going to pretend like I’ve been in your shoes, Y/n, but I do know one thing. The passion and drive you have when it comes to your family,” he walked towards me and placed his hands on my arms, “They’re some of your best qualities, and they’re what make you such a good leader. Reel in your impulsiveness, but don’t be afraid to tap into that part of yourself.”

I smiled softly, placing my hands on top of his warm ones, before cocking my head to the side.

“I’m sorry, did I just hear you tell me to reel in my impulsiveness?

Poe rolled his eyes and took his hands off my arms, “Here we go...”

“The Poe Dameron,” I said between laughs, “Instructing someone not to be impulsive?”

“And I stand by what I said,” he replied, his hands going to his hips.

“And I think you’re full of shit.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Is that any way to speak to your Commander?”

Smirking, and taking a step closer towards him, I decided to be exactly what he’d just told me not to be,

“I stand by what I said.” I said softly, watching his eyes darken as I stared him down.

Poe’s jaw clenched, and I could sense his entire body had just gone tense. I realized just how close I’d moved towards him, our bodies were practically touching. The tension I’d felt between us the past week was back, but this time it was electric. Rather than duck my head, like I usually would, I firmly held his gaze with no intention of breaking first.

“Something wrong, Commander?” I asked, innocent as could be. I’d never seen Poe as speechless as he was at the moment, and something inside me was happy that I had so much of an effect on him.

His pupils blown and his pink lips parted slightly, he gave a coy smile,

“None whatsoever, sweetheart.”

Was it normal in a friendship to want to press your friend up against a wall and kiss them senseless?

Because if not, I was completely screwed.

The only thing that prevented that from happening was the sudden banging at my door. Both Poe and I jumped slightly, the heated moment broken and the noise bringing us back to reality. Turning and pressing the button, the door opened to reaveal BB-8 waiting patiently.

“What’s up, buddy?” Poe asked from behind me,

The General’s in the hanger, it’s time to go.

“Right,” I nodded, “We’re right behind you.”

The droid beeped once in acknowledgement and I turned to Poe, who had come to stand next to me. He looked like he was shaking himself from the same stupor I was, coming back to focus on the issues at hand.

He exhaled loudly and clapped his hand on my shoulder,

“Jakku?”

I sighed, shifting my thoughts from these new feelings towards Poe and reminding myself we were heading back into war,

“Jakku.”

————————

Leia was waiting for us in the hanger, in between Poe’s X-Wing and a beat up A-Wing for me. BB-8 had sped ahead of us in the halls and was already loading himself into his spot in the X-Wing.

“General,” Poe greeted as we approached her, “Commander Solo and I are all set.”

“Good,” she replied, the mechanics are finishing flight checks on your ships.”

“All set, General,” the mechanics responded as if on cue.

I met my mother’s gaze, knowing I had to talk to her before we left. Poe sensed the mood and mumbled something about checking on BB-8. Standing in front of her with my head hung, I felt like a child remorseful for something they’d done.

“I may have an apology to make.”

”That’s entirely up to you. Just remember I have the power to demote you if you don’t,” she replied with a playful smile.

I laughed under my breath and took her hands in mine, “I’m sorry for how I acted, I still have a lot to learn.”

She placed both her hands on my cheeks and pulled me down to press our foreheads together. I clung to her arms and tried to soak in the moment, knowing there was a chance I wouldn’t see her again. It was a risk with every mission, but this one was different. This was more dangerous than anything the Resistance had ever pulled off before. And the whole thing rested on Poe and I.

My mother kissed my forehead before capturing me in a hug, I tried not to let any tears fall but failed. As she pulled away, I dried my eyes quickly and squeezed her hand, 

“I love you.”

“I love you too, darling.”

Smiling warmly, I broke contact with her and walked over to the ship I’d be using. I usually flew an A-Wing when on missions so I was familiar with the controls. I climbed into the cockpit and got adjusted in my seat before placing the pilot’s helmet on my head and looking over to Poe,

“You good, Dameron?”

“All good, Solo,” he confirmed, looking at me through his own helmet and giving me a thumbs up.

“Commanders,” my mother said before we powered up the ships, “May the Force be with you both.”

I smiled and saluted her before pressing the button and the ship coming alive. I flipped on the comms so me and Poe could communicate till we arrived at Jakku.

“Poe, can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear, sweetheart. Who’s leaving the hanger first?”

“You’re in charge, Commander. Make the call.”

“I’m making the call that I like it when you call me Commander.”

I rolled my eyes, “Poe, save the galaxy now, flirt later.”

He groaned jokingly, “Fine, I’m leaving first.”

“Right behind you,” I confirmed, Poe had programmed the coordinates into my ship while I’d said goodbye to my mother. I took the controls in my hands and lifted off the ground, seeing that Poe was already out of the hanger waiting for me above base. I left the building and flew up to meet him,

“Ready for lightspeed?” He asked over the comms.

“Ready when you are,” I answered.

We flew a little further from base and then just like that, we were off.

—————-

The flight wasn’t too long or harsh, and any trip we didn’t run into First Order patrol ships was a good one.

Poe and I didn’t end up speaking for the duration in case the First Order were scanning comms. If ever I needed to hear his voice, it was then. As we travelled, I’d begun to get a sinking feeling in my stomach. I sensed that something terrible was coming our way, but I couldn’t determine what. I’d often had premonitions in the past few years, but they’d increased significantly recently and it was starting to worry me. It was like my powers were beginning to grow stronger.

“Alright, coming into the atmosphere.” Poe’s voice came on the comms, taking me away from my thoughts.

“Copy that,” I answered.

It was almost dawn on Jakku, but it was still dark. Sneaking in and out in the dark made the mission feel even more dangerous, my nerves only rose.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” I mumbled to myself.

We were nearing the village, preparing to land outside of it. Poe and I flew side by side, zeroing in on a good spot and slowing down as we descended. There was something about the way Poe flew that even under the most dangerous of circumstances, he was completely at ease when flying. It was almost reassuring, almost.

We landed easily a few hundred yards from the village and I powered the A-Wing down. I removed my helmet and smoothed down my hair, blowing out a deep breath as my eyes scanned the quiet village. Whatever we were about to walk into, I hoped no harm came to the villagers. They didn’t ask for us coming into their homes and bringing the war with us.

I got out of the ship and met the sandy ground, turning to see Poe and BB-8 doing the same. BB-8 beeped something about liking the sand and for a few seconds, I simply enjoyed the sight of him rolling back and forth.

“Any idea what this guy looks like?” Poe asked, while closing the cockpit to the ship.

“Yeah, I met him once, it’s been a while though.” I replied, trying to steady my voice.

“Hey,” he said, stepping closer to me, “You good?”

I sighed, turned to Poe and said “I will be, as soon as we get the map and get the hell home.”

Poe smiled and grabbed my hand, squeezing it gently before nodding his head towards our destination,

“Then let’s go. If we make it back in time, I’ll take you for another flight.”

I squeezed back before letting go hesitantly, “Deal.”

We headed into the village with BB-8 close behind us. There were a few villagers up this early, already starting their day. We walked up to one of them who was already walking towards us,

“May I help you?”

”Yes,” I began, “We’re looking for Lor San Tekka.”

The man nodded and gestured for us to follow him, he began leading us towards one of the many tents.

“BB-8, stay outside and keep watch.” Poe ordered as his droid beeped his confirmation. The villager pushed back the flap of the tent and Poe and I entered to be greeted by a white haired man,

“Commander, welcome.”

Poe shook his hand, “Sir, it’s an honor.”

Lor San Tekka turned to me and smiled, “Commander Solo, it is wonderful to see you again.”

He wrapped me in a warm hug, “It’s been too long, I’m glad to see you’re well.”

“Come,” he invited us, “Sit.”

Poe and I both took seats next to a firepit that was burning as Lor sat opposite us,

“We must be quick, time is a luxury that cannot be afforded dring war.”

He reached into his robes, pulled out a small leather sack and handed it to Poe. I breathed a visible sigh of relief, we’d actually gotten it. I could practically hear my mother’s sigh of relief as Poe and I handed the drive to her.

“This will begin to make things right,” Lor said, covering Poe’s hand with his other, “I've traveled too far, and seen too much, to ignore the despair in the galaxy. Without the Jedi, there can be no balance in the Force.”

I nodded solemnly, though the word ‘Jedi’ always made me tense up. As far as Force users went there were the Sith, there were the Jedi and then there was me. I didn’t fit either of those titles.

“Well, because of you now we have a chance. The General's been after this for a long time.” Poe replied, holding the sack up with a confident smile.

“‘The General.’” Lor repeated with a knowing grin, “To me, she's royalty.”

“That she is, sir. On behalf of her and the entire Resistance, thank you for helping us.” I stated.

Before any of us could open our mouths, BB-8 came bursting into the tent beeping frantically,

First Order, they’re coming!

I turned to Poe, the same worried expression on my face was mirrored on his. He looked to Lor San Tekka,

“We’ve got company.”

The three of us raced outside, Poe raising a pair of quadnoculars he had around his neck to the sky. He didn’t need them, I could see the lights of enemy ships approaching us.

“You have to hide.” Poe said to Lor, we turned to him in unison and I reached out to touch his arm,

“If the First Order finds out that it was you who gave us the map, unimaginable horrors await you.”

“Commander, I knew the risks when I got in contact with the General. You have to leave. Go!”

Poe looked to me, conflicted about leaving him there to probably die, but knowing what would happen if we didn’t get the drive back.

I nodded to Poe before turning to Lor, “Thank you.”

He pushed my hand off his arm and me, Poe and BB-8 ran like hell towards our ships. They were parked behind a few large rocks so we had a bit of covering, though not much. The transports were already landing in the village and I could hear blaster fire ringing through the air. The distant sounds of Stormtroopers calling orders out caused us to run faster.

“Come on, BB-8! Hurry!” Poe yelled as we made it to our ships.

“We gotta haul ass,” I exclaimed as I opened the cockpit and jumped in. I powered it up and looked over to Poe and BB -8 who were doing the same. My stomach was churning at the thought of not making it out alive with the drive in hand. That was not an option.

Suddenly, I felt a blast hit my ship and throw me forward a little. 

“Shit!”

I jumped out of the cockpit and kept low, running to the back of the ship and examining the damage.

It was completely fried.

“You too?” Poe yelled over, in the same position I was in. BB-8 had already gotten out of his spot in the X-Wing and was by Poe. A shot was fired in between us and two Stomtroopers came charging toward us. Poe and I raised our blasters and took them on with one fatal shot each.

“What do we do?” I asked, running different scenarios through my head as I could tell Poe was as well. “Poe, we have to get out of here!”

”No,” he replied, taking my hand and pressing the drive into it, “You have to.”

My eyes widened as I processed what he meant, “What?!”

”Take BB-8 and get out of here, someone needs to get that map back to base. I’m gonna stay and take out as many as I can.”

“You’re insane if you think I’m leaving you here. You’re coming with us!”

“Y/n, I can’t leave the village helpless like this,” Poe said, gesturing to the village that had now caught on fire. The villagers screams could be heard for miles, I had the same urge to stay and defend them.

“Then send BB-8, I’m staying with you!’ I pushed, panic rising in my body at the thought of leaving Poe behind.

“NO! I won’t let anything happen to you, and that means you getting as far away from here as possible!” Poe yelled, desperation flooding his voice.

Tears flooded my eyes, I knew I wouldn’t be able to argue with him. He wouldn’t let me, just like he wouldn’t let any harm come to me. I reached up to touch his cheek, he leaned into my touch, shutting his eyes at the contact. His lips brushed my palm, sending a chill down my spine. He pulled me in by the back of my neck to press his forehead against mine. We stood there only for a brief second, but I wished with everything in me we could have stayed like that forever. He pulled back and wiped a stray tear from my face,

“I’ll come back for you, I promise.”

I nodded with a small sob as he bent down to talk to BB-8,

“You keep her safe, you hear me? You keep her and the drive safe.”

BB-8 beeped an ‘I will’ and rolled himself to my side, looking up at me.

Poe turned to me and his mouth opened to say something, when another ship began to land near the other transports.

My blood went cold. My heart began to race. It was like the entire world froze.

My brother was here.

Poe knew only one person in the galaxy could make me freeze like that,

“Y/n, get out of here now!”

”No, Poe, if he’s here I can’t leave you! Don’t make me leave you!” I shouted, grabbing onto his arms and trying to pull him the direction BB-8 and I would head.

“Y/n,” he took hold of my arms, “Get out of here right now, that’s an order!”

I sobbed and knew he wasn’t going to back down now. I had no choice but to leave him behind. BB-8 beeped at me and I looked down at him, knowing that we needed to go now or else we didn’t stand a chance.

Meeting Poe’s chocolate brown eyes, filled with tears of his own, I hesitantly let go of him and took off running with BB-8. I couldn’t look back at him or else I knew I’d do the exact thing my mother had been afraid I’d do. All I could do was weep as we ran through the sand, clinging to the sack containing the only shred of hope I had in the moment.

I didn’t know how long we’d been running, or rolling, but it seemed like nobody was trailing us. At some point I stopped and took a minute to catch my breath. Sitting down in the sand, I began crying again. Not only had I left Poe on his own when I should have just told him to screw himself and stayed, but my brother had arrived. What would happen if Poe was caught? What if he was captured? I knew what the First Order could do, but worse, I knew what my brother was capable of.

BB-8 rolled next to me and hesitantly bumped against my leg,

Do you think Poe will be okay?

I put a hand on the droid’s body and drew him to my side,

”Yeah, he will. Somehow.”

After a moment of wallowing in my fears, I dried my eyes and stood up. Until Poe rejoined us, it was up to the two of us to get the map back to base safely, and I wasn’t going to let the Resistance down. I wasn’t going to let Poe down either.

“C’mon, Bee. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

—————

A/N: Don’t hate me for the angst 🙈 Unfortunately we won’t be seeing Poe for a while, but he’ll still be present between BB-8 and the Reader’s conversations.

As far as updates go, I’ll still try for one a week but a family member of mine has just been diagnosed with cancer. I’m having a hard time with it so I may a couple days late with updates. As always, let me know if you want to be tagged!

Taglist: @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @springfox04 @constantdisgrace @holybatflapexpert @seninjakitey @tammythompson-singslikea-muppet @leilei-draws @eternal-fandoms @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @imaginecrushes

[eloarei]

Hiatus’d WIPs:  “Touch” (bnha)

I recently had a conversation with a friend/reader about how many unfinished fics I have lying around, and it made me decide to finally make a post for each one; under the assumption that I never write any of them again, I can at least link these posts at the end of the AO3 WIPs for people who are curious how the rest of the story goes.  So here we have:  WIP and notes for Dekumight fic series “Touch” (including unfinished next chapter) My thoughts: This was really one of my favorites for a while. There was something really fun about writing the sort of non-verbal communication they had going on, and the deep love and also awkwardness. However, the actual story of the fic doesn’t differ much from the canon plot, which makes it a little less interesting to write, and also difficult to pick up, because frankly I don’t remember shit anymore about canon.  Under the cut: (8,300 words total) 3,000 words of what would be the next chapter (ending about halfway through), then a rough draft of the second half of the chapter. After that, there’s a super-rough draft/ outline of the next several chapters, followed by a bunch of notes from when I was initially planning.  NOTE: Tumblr completely destroyed all formatting, so this should be full of italics, which implies thinking, but instead you’ll just have to puzzle it out.  Similarly, my notes have a bunch of bolding and some strikethrough, which probably doesn’t work either. Sorry. 

Takes place directly after “Retouch” (chapter 2) : 

Chapter 3 

It was just a few minutes later that Toshinori was hit with a spike of pleasure that he really shouldn't have been surprised by. He was finishing up some paperwork for UA though and wouldn't be getting ready for bed for a while, so instead of following through with the echo of Izuku's intense sensation, he just took a deep calming breath and willed himself to leave it alone. However, he did take a moment to send Izuku a well-timed text saying simply, | Sleep tight |. He still wasn't sure if the boy was aware of what he was doing to him, but he figured he'd just tip him off a little bit instead of asking outright. Not yet.

Izuku responded with a cute, embarrassed | ^^; you too |, and Toshinori laughed. So he hadn't expected to be called out on it, huh? Well, they could talk about it later; maybe over the weekend, if Suzuki's papers didn't scare him off. (And even then they'd probably still want to talk about at least a few things. Even if Izuku suddenly wanted nothing to do with him, even if they never saw each other again (a chilling thought), they'd still be affecting each other like this for the rest of their lives. It warranted at least a short conversation.)

Most likely, though... Most likely it would be a long conversation they'd be having, if Toshinori's impression of Inko was anything to go by. If it were just him and Izuku, who knew if they'd ever do much serious talking. It was far too tempting to just sit side by side with their hands tangled together and feel. So, it was probably good that Izuku's mother had such a strong hand in the situation-- and it was definitely good for both of them that she was such a reasonable woman. He knew she would probably bring up all the right topics (the things he still hadn't really researched; Suzuki wasn't going to be pleased with his ignorance), and ask all the right questions, and be super tactful about the whole thing, so he didn't fret about it, focusing instead on just getting through the week.

Easier said than done, he'd have told you, if you asked him at any point during those next few days, but eventually it was done, and he was standing outside the Midoriyas' apartment door with a briefcase in one hand and the other poised to knock. But before he could make a sound, the door opened, and Izuku was standing there, looking up at him with the brightest eyes.

“Hi,” he said, the simple word both enthusiastic and shy. His smile was impossibly wide, sending his freckles up into his eyes. “I, um, I could tell you were there,” he answered, before Toshinori could even ask how he'd known to open the door. Without further ado, Izuku reached out and took his hand, leading him into the apartment. They both breathed deep, relieved sighs as soon as they touched. Three days had just been too much.

Inside, Inko was doing dishes. “Oh, Toshinori, hi,” she said, looking over her shoulder. “I'll be done here in just a minute. Izuku said you have some papers for us to look at?”

“At my manager's insistence,” he explained. Guided by Izuku, he took a seat next to him at the kitchen table, their hands still joined, and set the briefcase up where his other hand could find what he needed. He pulled the stack of papers out and set them in the middle of the table.

“How's your week been?” Izuku asked quietly, as they waited for Inko to join them.

“It's been fine,” Toshinori answered, though the emotion rolling around in his chest said 'I missed you', and he was fairly sure Izuku could feel it.

The boy squeezed his hand at the feeling and replied, “Me too,” in response to the unspoken sentiment.

Drying her hands off on a dishtowel, Inko sat down across from them and gave the pair of them an appraising (but ultimately approving) look, before she slid the stack of papers over to her. “What have we got here?” she asked, apparently rhetorically, as she didn't wait for Toshinori to attempt to explain. She read through each page carefully and then passed it over to Izuku, who seemed mildly surprised but also read each one before sliding it over to Toshinori. (He skimmed them again for familiarity's sake, but he'd already read through them in detail with Suzuki a day or two before.)

Other than a 'hmm' here and there, Inko didn't make any comments until they were through the entire stack, which took about an hour. (Although she did stop to tell Toshinori to make himself at home, when she realized he might be thirsty or something.) It was a very quiet hour, and it would have been unnerving for Toshinori if he hadn't still had Izuku latched onto him, feeding him wisps of emotion as he read.

Once they'd gone through the whole stack, Inko started over from the beginning, and began to point out little details here and there and ask questions.

“I think most of it is reasonable enough,” she said. “We're not entitled to any of your income or royalties; that's fine. And we can't talk to the media about you. I'm alright with that. Izuku?”

Izuku nodded. “That's okay. I wasn't going to.”

“But this part here--” She pointed at it. “--says we're not allowed to tell anyone about the situation at all unless we have express written permission. That seems sort of... broad.”

Toshinori looked at the passage that Inko had indicated. “Uh, right. I told Suzuki I didn't think it was necessary, but he claims it's a safety precaution.”

“For you,” Inko said, and she did sound accusatory, but not overly much. “What happens if we break the contract? Suing us won't get you very much.”

“I wouldn't do that,” Toshinori tried to say, but Inko continued on.

“What if we need to tell someone and you're not around to give us permission? Like, Izuku's doctors? It just seems unreasonable. Dangerous, even. I get that you want to protect your status, but--”

Toshinori could feel Izuku begin to speak before he could hear the sound. “It's fine, mom,” he said. “It's not just for him. It's to protect us too. Remember that story a couple years ago? There was that lady who was kidnapped by villains because they thought they could use her to get to her husband?”

Inko pursed her lips, a slightly sour face. She clearly remembered the story, and how the woman had been tortured just to hurt her husband. Toshinori remembered it too; it had made him sick. It would have made anyone sick, especially anyone who was close to their soulmate.

“That's probably what Mr. Suzuki was thinking of,” Izuku added softly, and Toshinori could tell that he didn't quite believe in Suzuki's altruism (hard for him to, when he could feel Toshinori's own skepticism about the man), but that he did still believe the reasoning was fair.

A bit subdued, Inko nodded. “Well of course we won't go around telling everyone. I... just think it's a little silly to have to get it in writing like this.”

“You're right,” Toshinori said, shaking his head. “Leave that one, then. I'll get Suzuki to take it out.”

It went like that for another hour or so, Inko pointing out things she wasn't sure about and Toshinori mostly telling her to just cross them out, because honestly, Suzuki was going to be pissed, but who cared? There was no one in the world who mattered more right now than Izuku, and that necessarily made his mother pretty important too. Toshinori would do whatever it took to make them comfortable, and his manager could just deal with it.

By the time they were done, they'd tossed out about half of the papers and scratched through parts of most of the rest of them, and were left with a reasonable list of promises that read roughly like this:

The Midoriyas could not talk to the media about All Might, and they couldn't knowingly do anything that would jeopardize his career, and Izuku couldn't act in any way that would hinder All Might's ability to do his job as a hero. That was pretty much it, though the basic meaning was hidden in so many superfluous details that it had their heads spinning.

As for Toshinori, he would not infringe upon the Midoriyas' anonymity, or use his status to coerce or extort them in any way, and he would be responsible for any financial issues that resulted from their connection (including, but not limited to, doctor's bills and lawyer's fees).

Honestly though, they all knew that these were pretty moot points. If Izuku or his family broke any of these rules, there was really nothing that All Might's lawyers could do about it. And if All Might failed to uphold his end of the bargain, the Midoriyas could take him to court for it, but it would be inviting far more trouble than it was worth.

More than anything, though, they trusted each other enough for this whole paper-signing situation to be mostly just laughable. Getting the papers to Suzuki was not a high priority (well, he might have thought so, but he was a failure of a manager if he actually expected such a quick turnaround, after all these years), so Toshinori didn’t hurry off, instead offering to take the two out for lunch. “Oh, thank you, Toshinori,” Inko said sweetly, “but I’ve got some work to finish up. Why don’t you two go out and take advantage of the nice day?” At his elbow, Toshinori could feel Izuku’s slight surprise echoing against his own. Although Inko had only been supportive so far, they still couldn’t help expecting that she was going to try to keep them apart-- though maybe they were just projecting their reasonable fears about society onto the only other person who knew just yet. But whether or not she might be more strict about them seeing each other in the future, she seemed fine with it just now, and they were grateful. “Thanks,” Izuku told her with a sunny grin, while Toshinori nodded in agreement. “Want us to bring you anything?” Inko shook her head. “Just be back before it’s late! And stay safe!” They promised they’d be careful (in every possible way), and left the apartment together, walking close by but with their hands in their respective pockets-- the safest place for them, when they would have wandered if left to their own devices, gravitated naturally toward each other and the fulfilling feeling they provided. “So what did you think of the papers?” Toshinori asked, a relevant icebreaker to start conversation once they were on their way. “I hope they didn’t seem too strict.” Izuku grinned, and drifted close enough to bump their arms together. “They seemed fine,” he said, apparently unbothered by them. “Honestly, I’d sign whatever I had to. It’s already crazy that I even got to meet you. So, whatever I have to do now… I’ll do it.” That smile was an absolute slice of sunshine, and if Toshinori wasn’t warm just by their proximity, it would have done the job. 

They wandered for some time, down towards the city center where they might find something for lunch (maybe something other than ramen, so they could expand the list of foods they knew they both liked), chatting a little. The topics were never anything consequential; Toshinori thought Izuku was still a little nervous around him and wasn’t sure what to say. He understood the feeling, even without a physical link, rather feeling that way himself. But Izuku also had the natural anxiousness of the young and quirkless (he remembered feeling that way), so Toshinori tried to guide the conversation in comfortable directions. Heroes were always a safe topic, and one with no end of iterations. They’d walked a few casual miles, keeping their attention slightly on their surroundings in case a good restaurant caught their eye, and were in the middle of discussing Kamui Woods when something else caught their attention. In the distance a block or so, there was a crowd gathered, their exclamations and worried murmurs rising to a concerning pitch just as an explosion shook the area. Many of the citizens shrieked and ran for cover, but plenty of them were still huddled around in a nervous fashion, like people observing either a train wreck or a predator from which prey could have no hope of escaping. Toshinori became aware of Izuku latching on to his arm more than he strictly felt it, the young man’s concern bleeding over into him and mixing with his own. He could feel Izuku’s natural empathy coming strong through the connection, something he’d only glimpsed the times before. There was something happening nearby, something that frightened and worried everyone; should he help? What could he even do? Should he stay out of the way? After all, they’d only just found each other, and to lose Toshinori now would be devastating; to be found out might be even worse! Izuku would hate himself if he ruined All Might’s career by causing a scandal, but he couldn’t just sit back if someone was in danger and, ahh, if only he had powers, if only he could do more than cling and be a burden to his soulmate and-- Oh, Toshinori thought. These were not his fears; they were Izuku’s. It was Izuku’s desire to help whoever might be in trouble, his desire and his desire and that was right, he wanted to help too. Of course he did. He was a hero, wasn’t he? There was only so worried he could be for his own safety and his reputation and Izuku shouldn’t worry either because it would be okay and I am here and it was amazing-- he really was the right one for him. The perfect soulmate, and maybe something more, but that was something he could think of later. The screams were louder now, and the worried murmurs too, and as an explosion shook the windows of a building half a block down they agreed they couldn’t turn away, not when there was a chance they could do something, anything. Even if there was no power left, it was still his duty, and he didn’t have to do this but yes he did. “You’re at your limit?” Izuku asked, glancing up at him through his fluffy bangs, concern bleeding out of him through more than just their physical connection. It couldn’t have been much more than a guess, but from his expression Toshinori could see that Izuku somehow knew it, like an intuition. 

He nodded. “Essentially,” he replied. He wasn’t sure how to explain it in detail, but hoped a more nuanced understanding of it would flow through their bond. “I always have a reserve amount, but it’s… not much.” Izuku seemed to get it. “Maybe we can just… go see, if there’s something we can do.” That seemed fair; that seemed like the least they could do. Maybe there was something, some way to help. Inspired by each other, they jogged over to the scene and the crowd surrounding whatever trainwreck was keeping their attention so strongly. Toshinori froze down to his veins when they saw what was the cause of the commotion. It was a mutant; the same mutant he was sure he’d captured just the other day. Yes, he’d been distracted by Izuku’s presence, but he distinctly remembered turning the water bottle full of sludge over to the police before absconding with his new soulmate up to the rooftop. Izuku’s arm brushed Toshinori’s as he stepped closer in a subconscious bid at safety. How had the mutant escaped? Was it perhaps a different man after all? A twin, or someone with the same quirk? Had Izuku done something wrong? Distracted All Might from his task and caused the villain to escape? Was it the police’s fault? He glanced down at Izuku, who glanced up at him, and Toshinori shook his head. It’s not your fault, he said wordlessly, or Don’t worry about all that. And Izuku nodded, back on track after a momentary lapse of focus. How and why the mutant was here was of little concern. They both turned back to the scene at hand. “Okay, stand back and I’ll try to handle this,” Toshinori said, looking down at Izuku in a way he hoped was reassuring, and knowing anyway that he didn’t have to; Izuku could feel his determination, and every little ounce of worry that things might not go as planned. It was a nuance that Toshinori had learned to deal with in his life, and it was something Izuku was going to have to deal with as well. (Though given the boy’s penchant for overthinking, perhaps it wouldn’t be that much of a trial after all.) “Do you have enough energy?” Izuku asked nervously, obviously not wanting… well, all the things that could go wrong if Toshinori ran out at the wrong time. Toshinori laughed in soft self-depreciation. “Probably not,” he admitted. “But I’ll do what I can. That’s what it means to be a hero, right?” With Izuku’s arm still brushing his, he could feel the boy’s admiration, and it doubled in him and gave rise to a heroic rush he didn’t think he’d felt for years. Still, he waited for the right moment. That was another thing about being a hero; you couldn’t rush in blindly (not with his level of experience, anyway). He watched as the mutant swung his head around, like a cornered animal watching viciously for its enemies, and he could just about guess when it was going to let its guard down. Almost… he thought, his muscles tensing in anticipation. But just as he was about to spring forward, he felt a twinge of panic from Izuku’s side of the connection. It was a spike of recognition. Kacchan! 

The roughest of drafts: 

Izuku freaks out and runs to try to rescue him and they're all surprised when he actually manages to do some slight damage to the mutant; it's not enough to defeat him, but enough to stun him into dropping Bakugo, at which point Toshi transforms and rushes to finish him off. Tl;dr, turns out that a very tiny amount of Toshi’s power has become available to Izuku. (Make some note of the pain aspect, Toshi feeling Izuku’s pain from using OfA.) 

Afterward, when Toshi is talking to reporters (and Izuku has managed to avoid at least a little of the reprimanding from canon, due to appearing to have some power) Izuku can feel the discomfort, Toshi’s power draining. Perhaps he plays the fan, comes to shake his hand as thanks for saving him and they're both a little surprised that it eases the discomfort, seems to give Toshi back a little strength. Izuku had just done it as an instinct, but in light of what had just happened with the power sharing, they're both very curious how this whole soulmate thing is going to work. 

Toshi excuses himself from the crowd before too long and goes to find Izuku. He finds him being confronted by Bakugo, who knows that something is strange but doesn't know what (and is upset like in canon about Izuku trying to help him). Toshi tries to stay out of sight until Bakugo runs off, feeling that Izuku is confident enough in his ability to handle this. When they rejoin, Izuku explains who Bakugo is. 

“[But enough about that.] Are you okay?” 

They join hands. Toshi can feel that Izuku is fine but still he says, “It's you I'm concerned about. Do you know what you did back there?”

“That was your quirk,” he said, and Toshi nodded.

“Some of it, at least. Is your arm okay?” 

Izuku stretched his arm out, wiggling his fingers. “It aches a little, but I'm okay. I'm just… I've never done anything like that before. It felt… kind of amazing.” 

Toshi could tell that it was a little more than an ache, but that Izuku wasn't lying. It really wasn't hurting him much, and he was really feeling exhilarated. He remembered feeling like that when he first took the quirk himself. 

Izuku’s side of the connection was curious and Toshi realized he could feel him thinking about his past. He debated with himself for a minute. Was this the right time to tell Izuku about his past? He would have to tell him some time, and there was no reason to wait. “I felt the same way the first time I used it,” he said. “When my mentor gave it to me. I was about your age.” 

The feeling of surprise that Izuku emanated was not as much of a shock as he expected, more of a warm melting feeling, a soft realization. “You were ...quirkless? Someone gave you your quirk? But how?” 

Toshi tells the story as they head back to the apartment, but they take a detour to sit somewhere and finish talking. (Way before this, Izuku texts his mom to tell her what happened and that they're fine and they'll be home in a while.) It's gotten dark by the time Toshi has finished telling of Nana and AfO and needing to pass OfA on, and they're sitting on a bench in a corner of a park or something. 

“It was just an idea before,” Toshi says, “but now I'm pretty sure it's the right one. Would you be willing to take it? One for All?” 

The surprise this time really is a shock, and it nearly knocks the breath out of him. “...Really?” 

“You can tell I'm serious,” Toshi says with a smirk, and then he nods. “Yes. Really. It's the only thing that makes sense.” 

He thinks of the reasons: he needs to pass it on, and Izuku wants a quirk, needs one to get into UA. And he's defenseless without one, a real danger with them together now. And he's already shown that he can handle it, at least a little. 

“Should I think about it?” Izuku asks, looking unsure. He's probably thinking about all the things they talked about with his mother earlier, trying to be careful. But Toshi can tell he really wants it, and that's enough for him. 

“If you want,” he says. “Take your time.” He knows that Izuku will say yes. (He's less sure if Inko will agree, but he knows that between the two of them, they can convince her.) 

He can feel Izuku trembling, and it's with excitement he thinks. “Thank you,” Izuku says, almost breathlessly, and he leans forward and kisses Toshi, softly and quickly, and then looks him in the eyes for a short moment, twists his body in his direction more and leans in for another kiss. This one is a little deeper, lingering, not obscene but less than entirely chaste and Toshi can feel so so much through it, especially as he allows himself to kiss back. They don't take it far; Toshi can feel that Izuku knows there are boundaries, though Toshi is nervous about himself, unsure if he would be able to keep himself from crossing them, to stop when it was time. He's a bit anxious, but he's glad Izuku is reasonable, and he's excited and he's happy and they're melting into each other even though they've stopped kissing and it is finally Izuku who speaks up to interrupt them getting stuck in their twofold thoughts. 

“I should get home. I have to tell my mom about all this. Am I… Can I tell her? About OfA?” 

Toshi nods. “It's a big part of all of this. I guess she should know. And that'll give you a chance to talk it over with her. Decide if you want it.” 

‘I do want it,’ he could tell Izuku was thinking, although maybe not in so many words. Izuku was trying to be patient and make smart decisions. He was doing his best to be worthy of being Toshi’s soulmate, and Toshi was overcome with affection for him. He hugged him close, and even more than the kissing, that was the most they'd ever felt, the most contact they'd ever made. It was less electric than kissing, but like an overblown, overexposed photo. They stayed there like that for a little while before they silently agreed to get up and go back. 

The end of chapter 3, more or less. 

Chapter four. 

Izuku took a week to act like he was thinking about it, but in truth he'd decided almost immediately, and convinced his mom that it was a good idea (or that she should let him do it at least) on that first night, after Toshi had walked him home and said goodbye. 

“Izuku! I saw on the news about that mutant attack! You're really alright? And Toshinori, and Katsuki?” 

“We're fine mom! Toshinori saved us. But…” A pause. “With dad, have you ever… accidentally used his quirk before?” 

She raised an eyebrow at him, looking a little worried. “I can feel when he's using it, but i've never breathed fire myself.” 

Yeah, it wasn't anything he'd ever heard of before. Maybe it was because most people's quirks weren't that strong. Maybe it was because he was quirkless. Maybe… well there were a lot of reasons it could be. It didn't matter that much why; it had happened, and they'd both felt it. 

“I used it. All Might’s power.  Just a little bit of it.”

“Are you okay?” 

He said he was fine, he thought, but Inko was skeptical. She remembered some times when he was younger, when he thought an injury was less serious than it was. She convinced him to go to the doctor tomorrow and he agreed, dismissively as he was so invested in telling her about Toshinori’s offer. She's a bit nervous about the idea but it doesn't take long for her to give in. 

At the doctor's tomorrow (maybe only mentioned, not a scene) it turns out that Izuku did in fact fracture a bone in his arm. (Is a cast needed for that? Probably not.) 

Later that afternoon, Toshinori texted him and asked if he was okay; his arm felt a little off. Izuku responds casually that it was just a fracture and he's fine, and Toshi fusses over him a little, apologizes for putting him in that situation. Izuku really is not bothered by it. Toshi doesn't ask if Izuku has decided and Izuku wonders if he's changed his mind. A week later, he says that he's decided to take OfA, if he's still offering it, and Toshi says that he'd be happy to give it to him, if he's really sure. But! There's no way Izuku is going to be able to handle it in his current state. They begin to train (though not until Izuku’s fracture heals). In the meantime, Izuku continues school, and Toshi continues work, and they see each roughly every weekend. Sometimes they'll meet out for lunch or sometimes Inko invites Toshi over for dinner. 

(Cover some catch up. Mention Suzuki being annoyed about the edits to the paperwork etc)

It's a few weeks before they start to train, but of course it's much less covert than in canon. Inko knows exactly where they're going; Toshi has discussed it with them over dinners and such. He doesn't tell them that his plan is for Izuku to clean up the trash on the beach until they get there though. 

The next several months are a more efficient training than canon. After Toshi is pretty sure Izuku has grown strong enough, they try the power-share again, and Izuku is able to start using the very tiny percentage of OfA, sometimes. It works if he's recently been in physical contact with Toshi, and fades after a minute or two. It's not enough to do anything very heroic, but it is a significant boost to Izuku’s natural strength, allowing him to move items several times his normal weight limit. 

(They also find that Izuku can actually use a version of OfA that is more than twice as powerful as his tiny version, only if Toshi is currently in contact with him. However, Izuku hurt himself the first time they did that, so they avoid it until much later.) 

They still don't have a perfect grasp on Izuku’s ability to handle it by the time they transfer it to him, but it's better than canon, and they do it earlier so he has more chance to practice. He has at least some ability to use it at half-power before the entrance exam (chapter 5). The only reason he hurts himself so badly there is because he freaked out and wasn't careful. 

Training is pretty fun for them. It's more like play than in canon, with Izuku showing off, carrying Toshi around, silly stuff like that. He's moderately less concerned about being a hero, mostly because Toshi is so constantly encouraging so he doesn't worry about it. And he knows that even if he doesn't make it somehow, he's still got Toshi and nothing can take that away. 

Aside from training, they still spend a good amount of time together. Events and holidays and such. Izuku meets Suzuki. Toshi invites Izuku (and probably Inko) to his place once or twice, though they still spend most of their time out or at the Midoriyas’ apartment. Inko politely requests that they not stay at Toshi’s place. (She isn't /too concerned, but she just wants them to know that she has some kind of expectations about how they'll handle their relationship. She half expects Izuku to go behind her back in some of those regards.) 

Izuku has his 15th birthday not long after they start training (might have to look this one up) or thereabouts. He has mixed emotions about this, and about inviting Toshi to his ‘party’ (probably just a fancy-ish dinner with his mother (maybe dad too?) Since he doesn't have any friends). He wants Toshi there, of course, but he's somewhat embarrassed about still being only 15, and doesn't want to draw attention to it. On the other hand, he's also excited to be getting older, closer and closer to the age that it would be appropriate for he and Toshi to act however they liked. (This birthday scene goes in early middle of chapter.) 

More holidays: Christmas, new years, Valentine's day. Maybe just slight mentions of those. 

Chapter ends when Toshi wishes Izuku luck at the entrance exam. He kisses him and Izuku is a little shocked because Toshi is rarely if ever the one to initiate that sort of thing. He heads to the exam, excited and confident. 

Chapter 5. 

Toshi heads to UA (potentially along with Izuku), and goes to watch the exam with his fellow teachers. He's met them several times and they know about his injury and resting form, but only Nedzu knows that Izuku is his soul mate. Most of the others are familiar enough with him to know that he doesn't have one, and many assume that he's one of the few who will never have one. 

When the exam starts though, they might be able to tell that he is on edge, excited but nervous. However, they are all focused as well. It's not until Izuku smashes the robot (and everyone is shocked) and Toshi reacts to the pain that they notice the connection between them. He's not incapacitated (like Izuku is) but he is distressed and in pain and having to deal with the commotion from the other teachers. (Choose one teacher to perhaps help him out.) 

As soon as he's able, he goes to Izuku. (At some point he calls Inko to let her know what's happened, and she's worried and upset and he has to talk her down until she realizes that he's upset too.) In the infirmary, Izuku is knocked out, which Toshi already knew, could tell because the pain subsided very quickly. Chiyo looks up when he comes in, obviously connecting the dots. 

“He made quite a mess of himself,” she tells him, pulling up a chair next to Izuku’s bed for him. She tells him the details of what Izuku broke.  “But he'll recover.” 

“Thank you,” Toshi says, reaching out to carefully run his hands over Izuku’s arm, laying his hand on the side of his face, thinking about if this was a good idea, etc. 

Eventually, Izuku wakes up and they talk. A few people might come by in the meantime. Izuku is eventually clear to go home. Toshi takes him. Izuku asks if he passed, knowing that Toshi was there, and all Toshi can say is that he thought he did a good job, but he doesn't know for sure. (He later finds out that Izuku scored quite well, but refrains from telling him, letting Izuku get the letter from the school.) 

He gets a phone call from Izuku after the letters have gone out, and he can feel a sense of excitement even before he picks up. Izuku is crying on the other end. “Why didn't you tell me I made it?!” But he is obviously extremely happy.

Out on patrol or something, Toshi can't stop grinning for the rest of the day. When someone asks him, he just says that he's excited for new opportunities. 

Chapter 6

Izuku and Toshi both begin at UA. Izuku has already made friends with a few people from the exam, and of course he knows Bakugo. Bakugo is extra suspicious of him, confused about how he's got a quirk suddenly, and knowing that he's been acting strange the whole past year. He might even suspect that they're both related to izuku’s soul mate, considering the timing. 

School is, of course, plenty for them to focus on, but izuku and Toshi are still very focused on each other as well. Toshi treats izuku much the same as in canon, inviting him for lunch and etc, “playing favorites”. But since the other teachers know they're soulmates (at least, some do?) they don't criticize him quite as much for it. 

Toshi and izuku continue to progress in their relationship, lightly, balancing their personal and professional relationships. They act very casual around each other and have to be careful not to be too casual in front of the class. 

Izuku makes friends, which is sort of new for him. He loves them and wants to be open with them about his situation, but he can't. He's thought about telling, but he knows he can't break the rules they set. It's harder when perhaps the rumor (true rumor? What do you call that?) goes around about how he was affected by the soul link pain when he was little. He can easily tell his friends that it's not bad anymore, but it's hard having to pretend he doesn't know who it is. (Also may have to decide about sub-pairings? Otherwise it will be very hard for any of the other students to talk about their experiences. If they had mates in the class (like most ships) they would likely find out very quickly.) 

Most people won't immediately assume it's All Might, even if they spend a lot of time together. 

Key point: they hone their energy sharing, as Toshi becomes a bit exhausted some days. Simply being in contact for a while (lunch or something) acts as a recharge for him. When the other staff figure this out, they're much more accepting of izuku hanging out in the staff lounge. 

(Need to rewatch to see what the first few weeks are like.) 

Maybe include some scenes with Inko.

Chapter 7

This is the USJ incident. Toshi gets caught up in work and is late to help at USJ, but less late than in canon because he feels/hears Izuku crying out for him. Don't have to describe most of the USJ events because it's from Toshi POV, but have to decide when he gets there and if it all goes more smoothly. 

The way that Toshi and izuku act towards each other (calling by their first names, extreme familiarity and working together) is what starts to tip off some of the students, though it's not relevant at the time. 

The encounter is a little easier this time, with the power-share (this is probably the first time they try it out seriously) and the desperation to save each other (and the others) echoing between them. 

Any character who takes notice of their bond and quirk in canon is likely to notice the soul link instead. 

After the incident, emotions are running high. This was the first time they were honestly scared of losing each other. They want to hold each other for a very long time. Perhaps they are seen by some of the students (who maybe chalk it up to generic relief over the situation, but would definitely file it away for later). Later, they still don't want to let each other go, and perhaps spend their first night together (not necessarily sexual or anything), Inko having not allowed them to do so before. 

Emotional wrap-up; they're scared but calmed by each other's presence. They know they can handle the future together. 

END? (of this particular story, probably)  Brainstorming, notes, and ideas for further fics in the series 

And the notes below:  (my shorthand for the characters is IM = Izuku Midoriya, AM= All Might, IMmom = Inko (not shorthand in that case I know lol, I think I didn’t want people reading over my shoulder)) >>>"Touch" sequel

A lot of people actually expressed an interest in this, so let me jot down my ideas-- as well as their ideas. 

AM and IM have met, and now keep in touch. How has this changed their lives? Well now whenever they feel a strange pain, they'll call or text each other to make sure they're okay. They're both aware of what their relationship would be, if IM was older, and so is his mom, and so is pretty much everyone else that knows. In fact, most people assume that they're 'together' anyway, and it causes some tension. They try to keep it mostly under wraps, but it's nearly impossible. IM's friends and classmates are sure to notice, and AM's manager thinks maybe they should just come out with it. For their part, IM and AM just want to enjoy each others' presence and keep their moral concerns personal. IM is of course more brave (between the two of them), while AM knows he's 'supposed' to refrain. In public, they're both very good about it. 

Some time in the future, after they've really adjusted to each other, and the drama (at least from their friends and family) has died down, they take to being heroes together, as they at some point realize how much more receptive they are when they're together/touching. 

Questions! : 

--Does IM still get OfA? (I'm leaning towards yes? Most of the rest of the story wouldn’t make sense if he didn’t.) 

--How do friends/family react? Some people are jealous? BK particularly? IMmom is as supportive as possible, but she still worries for IM. As time goes on, if IM get OfA, she worries for AM too. (What about AM's cop friend?? I dunno, haven't thought about him much.) 

--How do media/people react? Manager wants to tell, because he knows people will find out and it's better to come out with it before they do. But AMIM want to stay private. Perhaps at the tournament, it is no longer possible to avoid media attention. Someone notices AM's discomfort when IM fights TS, notices IM look to the stands for AM before doing something reckless. When they find out, it's all anyone wants to talk about. AM's thin form becomes very useful for avoiding the media. 

--Perhaps around then, IM is kidnapped to be used against AM? 

--When things are calm, AMIM often text each other just to talk-- sometimes in the night. "I miss you" IM texts. "Is that what you were thinking of?" AM asks, aware that IM is awake and wound up, and winding him up too. This is before they've really worked out how things are supposed to go between them. IM is bold; AM is holding himself back.

-- IM goes to UA, begins to use quirk. -- AMIM work harder at managing IM’s abilities than in canon, because its effects are more obvious on them. -- AM starts at UA as a teacher; AMIM have to hide their link. IM has not told anyone. AM had to tell the staff. -- When the villains attack, AM gets there sooner, as he’s tipped off by their link. Things happen about the same. -- (Should I bother to include that part if nothing is significantly different? Leaning towards no. Maybe just touch on it.) -- At the tournament, that’s when people take notice of AMIM’s link. (IM’s friends have already begun to notice.) -- After that, it’s all anybody wants to talk about. AMIM are in the spotlight, though UA tries to protect them. -- The media begins to gossip about them, some piecing the puzzle together about their quirks. Some guess that IM is AM’s son (and has inherited his quirk). (It’s not unheard of for family to be platonic soulmates.) -- Manager makes them come out with an official statement finally, despite their reluctance. -- IM receives many invitations to intern with heroes. For safety’s sake, they turn them all down, except Torino. -- IM goes to train with Torino, covertly, while AM stays behind to deal with the PR mess. -- Things happen about as usual. Maybe only touch on this part as well? Not super relevant to the AU. -- IM thinks about AM during the fight with HK, and AM wants to get to him, knowing something is wrong, but knows he won’t make it in time. (Remember, “Touch” was 3rd person limited-omniscient. POV can be from IM, AM, and other relevant characters.) -- Would AM be allowed to test IM during the midterms? Maybe gloss over that part. Especially towards the end of Season 2, go more vaguely into the ending, to avoid making it obvious that you have no idea what happens after that. XD; Isolate the emotional core of the story (the emotional drama or problem) to solve in the final scenes, even if it avoids canon entirely. That’s preferable, in fact. Points to write, unrelated to canon occurrences: : -- AMIM want to spend a lot of time together, but they must balance their responsibilities. IMmom is pretty understanding and allows them a lot of freedom. -- Manager (needs name) is less understanding, hounds them to release a press statement. -- Most of their time together is spent in private or secluded places. Obvs, they frequent the beach for training. -- They often text and talk to each other on the phone, nightly if they haven’t seen each other. -- AM is still struggling a little bit with the fact that IM is so young, but he’s impressed by IM’s emotional maturity. -- IM is over the moon about AM, not enduring nearly the moral struggle AM is. He’s not an idiot, and he’s not oblivious, but he doesn’t think that there’s anything particularly wrong with them messing around a little. He’s considerate enough not to wind AM up when he’s busy or they’re in public, although sometimes he can’t help how he feels. (Being ‘turned on’ isn’t really strong enough of a feeling to cross the link; only acting on it is.) -- For his part, AM (at first, at least) tries not to touch himself, or at least only when he thinks IM is sleeping. Eventually they come to the conclusion that that’s not working out well-- and the most logical way to handle it, so as not to inconvenience either of them, is to go at the same time/ at set times. -- That is the most AM allows them to do (hugging/cuddling is totally fine, limited kissing is okay), and even that seems like too much to him, but he compromises with himself because he knows it would be worse if he didn’t. (It’s not as if he’s going to convince a 16-year-old to stop touching himself for 2+ years, and though his own urges are less frequent, it’s been uncomfortable trying to hold back entirely.) He doesn’t allow them to touch each other, and IM is actually pretty okay with this. Well, he respects it, at least. He’s just happy to have AM in whatever capacity he can. Some notes regarding the universe: -- laws regarding consent ages are a bit more lax, given the soulmate thing. AMIM would be more-or-less within their right to do whatever they want with each other, as long as IMmom is okay with it. And even if she weren’t, they could apply to be married, even at IM’s young age, by passing a test that proves they’re soulmates.(I don't think they'll do this. Manager would have a heart attack. ...then again, maybe he'd like the idea…) -- however, there is still certainly a stigma about age-difference relationships, particularly where one party is underage. 

Story 1 plot points to mention our resolve:

-- telling IM that his mom already knew

-- AM coming to terms with IM being a fan

-- AM telling IM his real name

-- AM telling manager about IM immediately. (Might be a good point to start with.) 

To time skip or not to time skip? I'm leaning towards not. New outline, after I've written a bit. 

1. AM talks to manager, Suzuki, and tells him about the whole situation, almost entirely honest. They decide to keep it a secret until AM has a successor. (AM POV) 

2. AMIM go on a date, where they talk about both applying to UA. IM wonders what AM is not telling him. They hold hands. AM brings up the paperwork Suzuki wants them to sign, and IM agrees. (IM POV) 

3. AM sees something that convinces him to offer OFA to IM. (AM POV) 

4. IM begins to train for OfA. (IM POV) 

5. IM goes to UA entrance exam. (AM POV) 

6. They begin at UA, and try to figure out how to act around each other, after they've had so much private time over the past months. (IM POV) 

7. The villains attack UA, AMIM touch-team to beat them, and people start to really put their relationship together. (AM POV)

END S1. Ugh how did this get so long that I have to separate it by season?! 

Touch2 titles:

Some related words: Touch, feel, sense, sensation, emotion, Touch, touched, touching, touches, touchstone, touch-tone, aftertouch, finishing touch, retouch, out of touch, in touch, untouched, Touched can mean: physically touched (he touched my arm), lightly mentioned (he touched upon the issue), emotionally moved (he was touched by the story), brought together metaphorically (their lives touched), affected (his life was touched by his decisions) Touch, taste, smell, see, hear

Leaning towards using other ‘touch’ words for different parts of overall story. 

Touch - original story

Retouch(ed) - this story 

Touch-up - maybe the next part

Finishing touch - the last story (though there might be another in between) 

Untouchable - first nsfw side story, before izuku is of age, on the phone with each other, feeling the echoes of their actions. 

Untouched - second nsfw side story, when izuku comes of age and they finally get together physically. 

Aftertouch - epilogue (years in future, maybe, working together) 

In touch - side stories taking place in the timeline of the story

Out of touch - side stories taking place before or after story, or from different character's point of view or about different characters. 

Chapter quotes:  Every action of our lives touches on some chord that will vibrate in eternity. 

-Edwin Hubbell Chapin (Chapter 1, Retouch) The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched - they must be felt with the heart. 

-Helen Keller The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: a human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive. To him, a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create - so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating. 

-Pearl Buck Aim for your star, no matter how far, you must reach high above and touch your life with love, you must never look back, but charge on! Attack! See your goal your star of desire, see it red hot, feel it burning, you must be obsessed with it to make it your true yearning, be ready my friends for when you truly believe it, you will certainly achieve it and by all of God’s universal laws you will always receive it! 

-Bob Smith We do not do well except when we know where the best is and when we are assured that we have touched it and hold its power within us. (lol god this one is awfully literal) 

-Joseph Joubert If you can learn from hard knocks, you can also learn from soft touches. 

-Carolyn Kenmore, Mannequin: My Life as a Model When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares. 

-Henri Nouwen And that’s everything I’ve got about Touch/Retouch! I might clean up that third chapter and post it some day, but *shrug*. 

[rosalind-of-arden]

Protecting Santi from Wolfe’s little rebellions

So I’ve been thinking about that handcuff scene in Paper and Fire. You know the one. “Wolfe in chains, Santi acting utterly unlike himself... And the four of them in a locked room.” Very long post below.

tl;dr: Wolfe can get away with “little rebellions” because the Artifex can’t openly arrest or kill him (Thanks Keria and Qualls!). Santi absolutely needs to maintain his image as the loyal and highly skilled soldier everyone thinks he is. If the Curia doubts Santi, Santi is dead. Wolfe needs to be cuffed in this scene to maintain plausible deniability for Santi. He stays that way until Santi is sure neither Jess nor Glain will tell the Curia that Santi is in on any scheming to rescue Thomas.

I already picked at this scene quite a bit back when I did my reread posts, but let’s do it some more, specifically trying to work out what Wolfe and Santi are thinking. Jess, of course, is not at all a reliable source on this. Having Jess as the POV character in his book is a lot like having a chess game as narrated by someone who only barely knows how to play and can’t see half the board.

But there are clues. Let’s start with Ink and Bone, chapter 15. There’s the dramatic reveal of Wolfe’s backstory and the fight that turns physical, yes, but also this little nugget:

“I’m coming,” Santi said. “And don’t argue with me about how you can’t protect me - I know you can’t. It doesn’t matter. I’m coming.”

But wait! Santi is the one always trying to protect Wolfe, not the other way around! Or is he? Let’s look at a couple other data points:

Santi to drunk Wolfe in France: “If you don’t care about your future, think of theirs. Think of mine.”

Wolfe’s journal: “I should leave you, Nic” because “I will make you break your own vows to the Library to save me from myself.” “Leaving you means giving up on a better world.”

Here is what Wolfe is protecting. Not Santi’s physical safety, necessarily, but Santi’s future with the Library. Wolfe is a heretic. His career is shot and at least 2 of the Curia want him dead. Despite that, Santi is a high-ranking military officer in good standing, one the Curia is extremely reluctant to lose, but one who would lose that safe and influential status if the Curia were to decide he is involved in Wolfe’s heresy.

Wolfe and Santi both know that Santi’s job is one of the things keeping them safe. They also know that Santi’s job is their only shot at changing the system from within. Santi has a lot of influence and is high enough in rank to be promoted to the Curia. That makes protecting Santi’s job a priority for Wolfe and Santi.

How do they do that? By making damn sure Santi isn’t seen as complicit in any misbehavior on Wolfe’s part. Santi can look the other way when Wolfe engages in his “little rebellions” because Wolfe can take the fall.

But wait, you say, Wolfe is on thin ice with the Curia, Wolfe can’t get in any more trouble! They’ll kill him! It seems that way, but consider what happens when Wolfe gets caught misbehaving. Keeping Danton around gets Danton killed, but Wolfe himself hears only the same threats he’s been hearing. Similar results from protecting Morgan. And Jess. The kid gets hurt. Wolfe gets more of the usual threats. Wolfe doesn’t necessarily know that Qualls has threatened to leak secrets if Wolfe is imprisoned again. He might not even know how much leverage Keria has to protect him. But he’s certainly worked out that while they’ll try to arrange “accidents”, the Artifex and Archivist won’t take overt action against him. Paradoxically, Wolfe enjoys a certain amount of freedom to be his rebellious self.

So keeping his students’ secrets? Perfectly fine, Santi can say he didn’t know. Going to rescue Thomas from immanent arrest for inventing a printing press? Risky for Wolfe, but potentially survivable if Wolfe goes alone. He’s already survived knowing how to build a press and keeping students’ secrets, so there’s a chance he gets out of this, too. Santi, on the other hand, could very well be killed outright for getting involved in this. Jess doesn’t pick up on it, but I suspect this is why Santi stays outside to guard the door while Jess and Wolfe go into Ptolemy House. If he’s outside, Santi is away from the printing press and can claim not to know about it if he’s caught.

That, and the fact that the Library already snatched the press, are probably the only reasons Santi survives this. Look at how he and Wolfe act when they’re arrested: Wolfe crying, Santi saying it’s worth what happens next. They think they’re going to die. They only live through this because the Artifex and Archivist have no evidence Santi knows about the press.

Now then, on to the handcuff scene. First of all, let’s assume that Wolfe and Santi learn things from Thomas Rescue Attempt #1. We also know that they suspect Thomas is alive, and that Wolfe has already tried recovering memories of the prison. Put this together, and we can conclude that Wolfe and Santi have talked about what to do in a variety of scenarios in which one or the other is caught behaving suspiciously.

Another thing to keep in mind here is that as far as Wolfe and Santi know, both Jess and Glain might be reporting to the Curia. As readers, we know that the Artifex did recruit Jess to spy on Wolfe. It just never went anywhere because Jess was kept away from Wolfe. We’ll also see Captain Feng trying to recruit Glain to Team Archivist/Artifex in the next chapter. Wolfe and Santi know enough about Library politics to have reasons to suspect both kids are compromised.

So look at how the arrest happens. Santi marches in to the rescue, then immediately orders Wolfe arrested. Wolfe is not at all surprised by this. Why? Because he and Santi already talked about this. Maybe this exact scenario, if they had any warning of what was going to happen. (Say, the Artifex coercing Wolfe to go to the training ground, and/or Wolfe plotting to meet Jess.) Maybe they’ve just contemplated similar possibilities. Maybe they calmly planned out tactics, maybe Santi just threw up his hands and yelled “look, if I catch you where you’re not supposed to be I’m going to have to arrest you!” Who knows. Regardless, Wolfe saw it coming and was prepared for it. Look how calm he is in the cuffs. That’s because he’s doing it to protect Santi.

But then there they are in the room with the kids, and this happens:

He lifted his bound wrists silently, and, when Santi shook his head, dropped them back with a heavy clank of metal to the table.

Though he’d brought the chair over, Santi didn’t sit. “You’re still under arrest, Scholar Wolfe,“ he said in a quiet, calm voice that raised the hackles on the back of Jess’s neck. “You’re going to stay what way. You know why.”

Note the nonverbal communication about the cuffs. Wolfe is already convinced Jess and Glain aren’t a threat, so he’s ready to drop the arrest pretense and get out of the cuffs. Santi refuses, and Wolfe accepts that. He doesn’t argue. At most, he passive-aggressively bangs the cuffs on the table. Wolfe understands that Santi isn’t ready to trust the kids yet, and he agrees to go along with it. Santi’s “You know why,” is also a reference to whatever they’ve discussed in advance.

Santi’s outburst after this, and the argument with Wolfe about Wolfe’s risk-taking, are off script, and a very tempting distraction for us as readers. Look, dads fighting, let’s be just like Santi and lose focus of their real objectives in this scene. But notice how Wolfe keeps trying to redirect things. He gets a couple sharp words in, yes, but he doesn’t stick with the argument for long. Instead, he redirects the focus to Glain and Jess. Because that is the actual point here: figuring out whose side Glain and Jess are on and what they’re planning.

Another interesting point: Santi’s warning to Jess about the risk he’s taking in showing them the book. “I’m still an oath-sworn member of the Library High Garda.” Here’s Santi back on track and focused on what he needs to be right now. While the kids remain potential threats, he has to be a good soldier. He can’t let smuggling slide. Or at least, he can’t be caught letting smuggling slide.

Another one: Wolfe does not tell Glain what his invention was. Another layer of plausible deniability. Everyone is safer if no one in that room can say that printing was discussed.

And finally, after much discussion of evidence and the kids repeatedly expressing their determination to rescue Thomas, we get this:

Santi and Wolfe exchanged a look. Wolfe inclined his head a little to the side, with a strange, crooked smile. “You see? They’re as bad as we are.”

“Worse.” Santi sighed. He rose and unlocked Wolfe’s restraints

Here’s that nonverbal communication about the cuffs again. Wolfe is again asking if Santi is ready to trust Jess and Glain. This time, Santi agrees. Two readings here: one, Santi is now convinced that Jess and Glain are firmly on his and Wolfe’s side and no longer a threat. Plenty here that the kids said and did that could have accomplished that. Or, two, Santi has conceded this fight to Wolfe. Whether Santi trusts the kids or not, Wolfe is determined to go forward with this, and Santi is going along with it, just like Thomas Rescue Attempt #1 at the end of Ink and Bone. Either way, there’s no more reason for Santi to play the well-behaved soldier.

Now, purely for speculation, what might the contingency plan have been if Wolfe and Santi decided not to trust the kids? My guess is Santi would turn all of them over to whoever people arrested for fucking with training exercises get sent to. Probably the High Garda commander? This would keep Santi safe: he did the lawful good thing, no evidence to the contrary. Anything he said in that meeting could be passed off as an attempt to draw information out of the suspects. At this point, Wolfe would face some unpleasant mental health consequences, but he would probably get out of the ordeal alive for reasons discussed above. The kids' fate is more up in the air, but Santi is willing to write them off, and if they weren’t trustworthy, Wolfe would be, too.

Anyway, after this, we see Santi continuing to maintain his public image right up until they get to Rome and it’s time for Thomas Rescue Attempt #2: The One That Succeeds. He keeps his distance from the kids. He has Zara and Troll run interference and pass messages. He is very unhappy to see Jess at his door, yet again. To anyone watching, Santi is a good, loyal soldier.

So there it is. The grand theory of the cuffs and Wolfe and Santi’s defensive strategies. Or at least one possible interpretation of things.

[faulty-writes]

Can I request Bakugo with a bubbly reader and they get into a fight because reader accidentally breaks something of his and tries to make it up to him, but he cusses her and they dont talk for a week and reader is super sad and depressed and Bakugo is too and crankier than usual. Then Bakugo decides to apologize after having received a taking to by Kirishima. Then when he goes to talk to the reader, reader hands him the replacement of what she broke and they make up?

[Requests: OPEN] 

[This sounds adorable, I appreciate the well thought out plot! I hope I did your idea justice! I love soft boy Bakugo.] 

The world was drowned out by the music that pumped into your ears, the new album Jiro recommended was amazing and it was impossible not to dance to. Though you often danced and sung your heart out whenever much like Mina, you had a bubbly personality. You were known for smiling and your teachers often said it was a strength of yours. 

You had a warmth and kindness about you, which is why so many people were shocked to know you were friends with Bakugo. The ticking human time bomb, the guy whose only method of communication was screaming. But, he was a nice guy underneath all that anger and even a softie when it came right down to it. 

Of course, only you had the special privilege of seeing that side of him. In fact, that’s why you were currently listening to music and well, dancing around. Bakugo usually insisted that you hang out with him after school and you had taken it upon yourself to wait in his dorm until he arrived. 

You knew Kirishima and Denki liked taking up his time at the end of class which you didn’t mind, after all, they were his friends too. So in the meantime, you continued to goof off. Bakugo’s room was well organized but he did have a few special possessions, typically he kept them locked away but for some reason, he had decided to reorganize his room. 

Now those special possessions rested on the shelf near his bed, unfortunately, you hadn’t noticed the small changes he made and proceeded to climb onto his bed. Your headphones were still blasting music as you jumped up and down, though Bakugo would probably kill you for messing up his sheets. 

Your laugh echoed through the room, and your arms moved around like wild along with your legs. You were in your happy zone until your hand accidentally hit something on Bakugo’s shelf. Your body froze when you watched it tumble and shatter on the floor, your eyes wide as you pieced together what it was. Given the colors, you came to the conclusion that it was one of Bakugo’s All Might statues. 

The sound of the door opening made you gasp and you quickly got off the bed. Stumbling as you stood in front of the pile of broken glass, your hands behind your back. “B-Bakugo! I …” you paused and looked at him, he was already wearing an angry expression which you only guessed was because Kirishima and Denki had pissed him off somehow. 

You shivered when his red pupils settled on you. “What the hell were you just doing?!” he snapped and you swallowed, “Uh ...well I ...I …” your eyes shifted back and forth, he looked past you to see his messy bed. “What the fuck!?” he dropped his bag to the floor and ran to his bed. “DUMBASS, you messed up the sheets again. Damn it.” he hissed before he tried to fix it. 

You glanced to the side, hearing him mutter curses under his breath as he remade the bed. You whistled innocently before pushing your headphones back so they hung loosely from your neck. Then you scraped your shoe along the floor, trying to push the broken glass somewhere else. But Bakugo paused when he heard the noise and turned to look at you. 

His eyes slit with suspicion, “What was that?” he growled, “Uh …” you glanced back and forth. “Nothing?” you replied with a shrug and half-assed smile. But as usual, Bakugo didn’t buy it and stomped over, pushing you to the side without a care. You stumbled, twisting your ankle as you tried to regain your balance. 

You felt your heart sink as Bakugo stared at the broken All Might statue, his face was distorted and a dark shadow cast over it. His jaw was clenched, but you could hear the faint sound of his teeth grinding together. “What the FUCK did you do, DUMBASS!?” he snapped and you frowned, innocently playing with your fingers. “Well, I uh ...I didn’t mean to!” you exclaimed with a pout. 

“You didn’t MEAN to!?” he snapped, stomping his foot and his palms gave off small explosions. You took a step back, a little afraid of the angry man. “I mean ...I was just having fun and I ...accidentally knocked it down.” you explained in a soft tone, “I’ll make it up to you!” Bakugo took a step towards you and panic set in. 

“I-I’ll buy you lunch for the next week! I uh, I-I’ll do whatever you say!” Bakugo took another step and grabbed your arm. “You’re a goddamn idiot you know that?” you frowned, “I’m not an idiot!” you replied before he shoved you back and caused you to stumble once again. “Maybe if you stopped being a fucking extra when it came to your childish personality, you’d actually fucking listen when I tell you shit!” he growled before kicking the glass pieces. 

You cried out and as they flew in your direction, “Bakugo!” you snapped before he came charging at you, grabbing your shoulders. “You’re a damned idiot! A shitty extra who should just quit the hero course!” with that, he shoved you out the door. You stumbled on your feet and fell to the floor. Tears forming in your eyes as his door slammed but you could still hear him cursing you out. 

You sniffled and reached up to wipe your eyes before standing on your feet. Bakugo had never talked to you like that before, yes you had broken something of his. But you apologized and he took that and stomped it into the ground. You were beginning to see why most people avoided Bakugo and though you had always defended his name whenever people happened to be talking shit about him. 

Maybe ...you should have let them talk. After that day you decided to avoid Bakugo, which meant turning the other cheek when you two passed in the hallway and sitting alone at lunch. Your normal bubbly self was gone, there was no smile on your face and you had even gotten injured during training because Bakugo’s words kept ringing in your head. Maybe he was right, maybe you shouldn’t even try being a hero.  

Of course, Bakugo wasn’t doing much better. At first, he had gotten annoyed that you were avoiding him. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew you were doing it on purpose. But going a week without talking to you was beginning to eat away at him, though part of him still believed he was in the right. But even so, the aftermath of your little quarrel had cast a dark cloud over him. 

He was more irritable than usual, even with his closest friends. When Kirishima had greeted him in class, Bakugo’s response was a glare and the words, “SHUT THE FUCK UP, shitty hair!” not exactly the nicest response one could get and Kirishima finally spoke up when the long week had ended. “Bakubro, is everything okay?” He took the seat next to the blond in the common area. 

Bakugo’s arms were crossed and he scoffed, glaring at the redhead. “I’m fine, leave me the hell alone.” Kirishima frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well you don’t sound fine and you’ve been crankier than usual. I noticed y/n is even avoiding you, did something happen between you two?” he questioned and Bakugo growled, sinking further into the couch. 

“Everything’s fine …” he repeated, feeling more irritated because of Kirishima’s presence. The redhead sighed, determined to get an answer from Bakugo one way or another. “You know ...I’m your friend, you don’t have to lie to me,” Kirishima said, hoping his words would somehow motivate Bakugo, who sighed. “Why do you even care, shitty hair?” he asked. 

“You haven’t been yourself, man, you’re a little scarier than usual and well, I’ve noticed y/n hasn’t been themself either.” he reached up, rubbing the back of his neck. “I actually haven’t seen them smile at all this week …” For a moment, Bakugo looked concerned before he huffed. “That’s their problem, they deserve to feel that way after they broke my damned All Might statue,” he growled before kicking the coffee table in front of him. 

Kirishima jumped, though he wasn't sure what he was more surprised by. The fact that Bakugo told him what was wrong or that was what sent the two of you into a spiraling depression. A moment of silence filled the air before Kirishima spoke again, “So that’s why you two haven’t been talking? That’s why y/n hasn’t been themself? All because they accidentally broke something of yours?” he questioned and Bakugo growled. 

“It wasn’t just something! I told them to be careful dammit!” his jaw clenched and his face twisted with anger. Though the redhead was normally intimidated by Bakugo’s anger, he just huffed. “You’re acting like a little kid, y/n is your friend and probably the closest one you have and you’re just going to let them be sad and alone like that? Is your friendship with y/n worth that little that you’ll cut it off because of a small mishap?” he shook his head before rising from the couch. 

“I thought you were better than that, y/n may not be as serious as the rest of us. But I think they have a bigger heart than anyone and well, I’d never want to lose them as a friend.” he said before shrugging, “The choice is yours.” he said as he walked away from Bakugo who sat there grumbling. His mind replaying the fight in his head and the words he had spoken to you. 

Okay, maybe he had been a little harsh ...did he really want to lose you as a friend? Of course, the answer was no and now that he knew how you had been acting, were you really that sad without him? He felt his heart sink in his chest and growled as he leaned over, placing his head in his hands. “Damn it.” he hissed, knowing that he had to fix this before it was too late. Normally he didn’t worry about hurting other's feelings or apologizing to them, but it was a different case with you. 

So with that in mind, he gave another huff and stood up from the couch. Heading down the hallway towards your dorm room. You had been spending most of your week locked up in your room, it was amazing how much a fight would change your world. You found yourself lonely and bored without Bakugo, despite the mean, rude things he had said to you. It was understandable, you had broken something important of his and while you still wanted to make it up to him, you couldn’t find the courage which only added to your sadness. 

You sighed as you continued to lay in your bed, staring at the wall. In your hands was a small wrapped up box, inside was something you had hoped would make Bakugo like you again. But it was no use, you might as well kiss your friendship goodbye. Your lip quivered and you felt tears coming before a knock sounded, “Ah!” you jumped and nearly fell out of your bed, “Uh …” you unscrambled yourself from the blankets as the knocking grew louder. 

“Coming!” you shouted as you finally managed to get on your feet and open the door, “Hello-” your face dropped when you saw who was on the other side. “B-B-Bakugo?” you stuttered, he was wearing a casual outfit but a soft blush seemed to paint his cheeks and he was rubbing the back of his head. A rare nervous habit you had seen in him before, but why was he so nervous and why was he here? 

You blinked and watched as those red pupils looked in your direction. “Yeah, it’s me! So are you going to let me in or not?!” he snapped, “Oh ...uh …” you were a little confused and somewhat offended he hadn’t even said hello before going straight to yelling, but even so. You stepped aside and allowed him to walk in. Shutting the door, you crossed your arms. “Why ...are you here? You haven’t talked to me all week and-” he interrupted you. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know!” he growled, “Kiri told me okay, you’ve been sad and …” his teeth ground together as he tried to form his next words, he didn’t like being vulnerable to anyone. He took a breath, “You’ve been sad and ...it’s probably my fault, okay!? And ...well …” he looked down, a single tremble coursing through his body. “I’m ….sorry okay? But don’t expect me to say that in the future! You’re still a dumbass and ...you still need to be careful! I ...I don’t want you getting hurt ...stupid …” he muttered the last word.

You blinked, your jaw hanging open. “Did ...you just apologize to me?” you questioned and watched Bakugo’s face twist in anger. “What the hell do you think I was doing!? DUMBASS.” you stood there processing the fact that Bakugo of all people not only admitted he was wrong but apologized on top of that. “Heh …” you found yourself smiling and a giggle left your lips. 

“Wow, I never knew I had such an influence over the great Katsuki Bakugo.” you teased and watched the blond tighten his hands into fists. “What’d you say!?” he demanded, though he was still blushing like mad. “Oh nothing, nothing!” you replied, raising your hands into the air. “But …”  you looked to your bed, “I do have something for you.” Bakugo’s expression dropped and he watched as you walked over to the bed and grabbed the small present. 

Turning back to him, you smiled and held the gift out to him. “Here, I got it for you. I ...did say I’d make it up to you and well ...open it already!” you insisted as you clapped your hands and bounced on your feet, almost acting like your old self again. Bakugo looked at the present and then back to you, “What is it?” he questioned and you sighed, “Just open it!”  you insisted once again. 

Bakugo looked at the present, closing his eyes. “Fine,” he replied before he ripped the ribbon and paper off, he practically tore the flaps of the cardboard box off and you laughed as you saw his surprised expression. “Do you like it?” you questioned as he pulled out the All Might statue you had ordered. “I know it’s not the same, but I hope this makes up for ...well the one I broke,” you said, placing your hands behind your back. 

Bakugo held the statue in his hand, his fingers brushing over the lines and edges. “You got this for me?” he asked and you nodded. “Yeah, you still haven’t told me if you like it.”  you pointed out with another giggle and he took a breath. “Y-Yeah ...I like it,” he said before placing it back into the box. He put the box back on your bed and grabbed your arm to pull you close. 

You were a little shocked by his actions, even more so when you realized he was hugging you. “Thanks …” he said, his hair tickling your neck which caused you to blush. “Oh uh ...y-you’re welcome,” you replied, returning the hug with a happy smile on your face. “Do you ...want to stay here tonight? You have a lot of time to make up to me,” you said as Bakugo pulled away and smiled at you. “Yeah ...sounds like fun.” you laughed and grabbed his hand. “Great! Just don’t break anything.” you teased. 

[tartagilicious]

spoken love > gavin, mlqc

→ Pairing | gavin x reader

→ Genre |  angst w happy ending

→ Word Count | 9555 

→ Warnings | tw; kidnapping and mild torture, + general heartbreak/feeling like you’re not good enough + the fluff at the end might give you cavities

→ Songs | orbit by hwasa and stefan’s theme by michael suby

→ Note | this plot took all of my brain cells to put together rip but at least I’ll be able to start working on requests again :) and yes, I love harassing victor in these for some reason. the poor boy deserves to be the one to win mc’s love 😔

@n3verending16​

Flowers don’t bloom in the dark. Biologically, it’s impossible, but there are other factors that weigh in — things that stunt its growth just as greatly. It’s quite an open ended question, but this time, perhaps simply, the flower just felt as if growing any more was useless without her sun there to see it.

Call it a personal bias, but you think that must be it. Because as Gavin utters the very words you dread to hear, you feel as hopeless as a flower cut off from the sun.

“___,” he sighs. And it’s pained — too pained for someone who has just single-handedly snapped your heart in two. “I’m sorry. But it wasn’t something I could keep from you forever.”

I don’t love you anymore.

The words echo in your head so forcefully that you barely register Gavin’s voice. His apology only goes in one ear and out the other, much to both of your dismays.

“...I don’t understand.” Your voice is flat, but you know it’s only a matter of time and how particularly strong you’re feeling today until that breaks. “Why all of the sudden...?”

Gavin bites his bottom lip, as if holding back something before he only fesses up a shrug in response.

“I’m sorry.”

He sounds sorry, but you know from the bottom of your heart that there’s something underneath it. Gavin, a boy you’ve known since high school, who would always keep an eye out for you, who always picks you up and flies you home, who is always the first person to be there for anything -- is someone you know just as well as you know yourself.

“I don’t want to hear that. Can’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

Your voice raises slightly with irritation, but in lieu of your unclear communication Gavin only stands and takes it. Like he should, you think, but you know that you don’t want to yell at him. He doesn’t deserve that — he never will.

“I really am sorry.”

You‘re at a loss for words as he shifts past you and silently lets himself out of your apartment.

Stay safe.

You frown as you whip around to the closed door, recalling the words he’d whispered to you when walking out. They fill you with a hopeless sense of dread and irritation that you can’t possibly manage to keep at bay for long.

And your frustrations do quickly surface — in the form of hopeless tears, with soundless sobs sneaking out of your throat that have you crippling to the floor.

That was almost 3 months ago.

By now, you’re not over it. You’re not over it in the least, and you’ve never lied to yourself or anyone else about that. That doesn’t mean it’s any less harder, but denial is simply just another fruit that you’re not willing to pick in the end.

Because there are already plenty of other nights that fill in the absent spots that denial leaves. Times where you’re too empty to eat, when you’re too lonely to sleep, and plenty and plenty of nights where your sadness tries to blame Gavin for your troubles — but, you can’t. The part of you that still believes something isn’t right just can’t bear to.

And so, you spend every moment of every sorrowful minute reminiscing, even if every single one of them is not your choice.

You don’t want your heart to drop into your stomach at the mention of his name. But it does. You don’t want to let a single person control your emotions like this, but you do. It’s meaningless to even claim that you want to feel this way, but it’s all too worth it to be the only one that knows you at least deserve better than your worst.

You want to get back to working at your best. You want to enjoy your favourite things again. All you want — all of it’s just out of reach for now. But, without him, without the reason that had torn you apart, you fear it’s impossible.

Yet, ironically, he was the one to teach you that nothing is impossible. He taught you that anything you chose to put your mind to, you could do, and now, you’ll be trying to use that very advice to piece everything back together.

Starting with him, of course.

There’s, of course, still that aspect that sticks out to you as wrong; something you haven’t been able to shake even after months of general, yet still mutual, silence on the subject. Whether it was the hesitance in his eyes or the sadness in his voice, you refuse to believe that it’s the end of the line. Especially considering Gavin’s own personality in regards to you -- it had always been in his best interest to keep you in the safest hands, even before you began to see each other as more than friends. So, it’s not as if you can completely rule out that possibility yet.

But, Gavin is like a lock. And sadly, it’s one that you lost the key to long ago.

Every time you encounter him, whether he flies you home, or helps you with a detail concerning something at work, he’s nothing but friendly and lithe in the ways he interacts with you. There’s little evidence of the hesitation you could’ve sworn that you saw that night, and it discourages a certain part of you greatly.  

Still, you don’t want to give up. You feel like doing that would be like casting it to the side -- or more accurately, labelling the situation as plainly unimportant. And no matter what, that isn’t true. You want answers more than anything; concrete ones that won’t leave you with a bad taste in your mouth anymore. Answers that even if you didn’t like them, they settle your questions all the same.

Yet, you can’t help but feel pressured to.

Time after time he ignores the unsaid words floating in the air above you, and smiles without pain even when it’s obvious that you do.

maybe I was wrong?

You think hard to yourself one afternoon, right after Gavin had just dropped you off at home; unincidentally, of course. You can’t think of anything else, really, but the heartbreaking possibility that you’re concerned over nothing and Gavin really has just fallen out of love as he said haunts you more than anything else ever has.

That night spent alone is by far the worst.

But unbeknownst to you, a certain someone’s nights vary little.

Gavin feels tremendous regret. It’s a gnawing, aching feeling to know that while not only he lied to the love of his life, he is by no means closer to solving the problem that forced you apart. Three months have passed with only average progress on the particular case, and without you by his side, he can’t help but feel anxious every step of the way.

He feels time and time again the urge to tell you the truth, even if you choose not to accept it. And not just for himself -- but also for you. The way you’ve changed over time is terribly obvious to him if no one else.

But you aren’t a switch he can turn on and off at will -- your happiness is relative to only yourself. He just finds himself wishing that if not him, at least you could find the opportunity to live happily without him for now. He sees the way the emotions in your eyes rise and fall whenever he interacts with you. And though it gives him little insight into what goes on behind closed doors, it makes him feel bad all the same.

Because he knows it’s his fault, and wants nothing more than to get things over with so he can tell you the truth you deserve.

And finally, one day he realises that he might be closer than he thought.

“Gavin.”

He looks up to greet the man who’d just walked in, but thinks better of it when he sees his expression. This particular case had been handed to Eli first, as it fell more under his category than Gavin’s, but was extended out to him in lieu of progression.

That much alone told Gavin that this mission was unlike any he’d done before.

Usually, missions take mere days to complete -- up to about a week at most, but this one has been stretching on for months. It makes him anxious when he thinks about how long Eli had been at it before him, but all Gavin knows he can do nothing more than try his best to shorten it.

“What is it?”

“I think you should see this.”

A newspaper, dated to only a few weeks ago, is tossed on the table in front of him. It doesn’t really look to be anything special, with the headline only referencing business moguls and trivial local news rather than information they’re looking for.  But, just as Gavin goes to open his mouth, he notices an article on the bottom of the page. It’s small, barely even noticeable, even, but the moment he reads the first words his eyes widen.

His eyes flicker up to meet Eli’s, who’s standing there with a small smile on his lips.

“Is this--?”

“Yep.” Eli nodded. ”Good thing I actually stopped to read it this morning, huh?”

Gavin’s lips curve up into a distracted smile, his attention returning to the newspaper and ultimately the little article about a missing persons case -- one of the very same they’ve been following. Listed under a few incidents is a woman’s name and information -- all average details such as height and weight that would inform anyone in the public of any specifics.

It’s nothing that they haven’t already uncovered, but there are certain details in the article itself that strike him as odd.

“Time and place of abduction.” Eli fills in the blanks before Gavin can even find the words to speak. “Whoever wrote this article somehow managed to get a hold of the cctv footage from that night and put it out to the public.”

“Spiteful of them to do that,” Gavin mumbles, his grip around the newspaper tightening and loosening with every absentminded flex of his hand. “Especially when we’ve been trying to get it for months.”

“I don’t know, but, let’s not jump to conclusions. Maybe they were just lucky.”

He turns to Eli with a dubious look on his face. “The footage is protected under the ownership of the residence, and not to mention, the permissions you need for it can take months. There’s no way they were just lucky.”

“Look, fine. I agree, okay? It shouldn’t have been possible, but here we are.” Eli shrugs, cutting the argument off even as there was more hanging in the air. “What if they just got special permission from the courts or something? Isn’t that possible?”

Gavin shakes his head. “No way. These processes take a while no matter the circumstances, remember?”

“Fine, then let’s find whoever put this article out and make them tell us how they got their hands on all this stuff.” Eli obviously can’t hold back a smile any more, patting Gavin on the shoulder a bit too lightheartedly for the other man’s taste. “Maybe we’ll be a little closer to finishing this all if we do.”

Finishing.

Gavin turns the word over in his head what feels like a hundred times, but no matter how he looks at it, it’s good -- really good.

He stands up and ceremoniously returns his partner’s smile. “Okay, then let’s do it.”

But, before they even have time to breathe, a new setback finds its way into their plan

“Wait.” Gavin does a double take when, hours later, Eli finally announces the company responsible for the article.”That can’t be right, it’s--”

Eli interjects with a sigh. “___’s company. I know.”

“It’s a production company, though. They don’t do articles and stuff, do they?”

“It’s not uncommon for companies like that to have different departments or whatever.” Eli shrugs. “And the article in question would check out, I guess, considering how close they are to the street with the cctv we’re trying to get.”

“But last time I talked to her, she wasn’t doing anything like that…”

“When was the last time you talked to her, then? Maybe it’s just a recent change or something.”

Eli asks the question nonchalantly, but is really none the wiser about Gavin’s situation than he was when everything began months ago. And so, the words do nothing remind Gavin of memories and mistakes, sending an involuntary strike of pain through his chest.

When was the last time I talked to her?

Not long ago, he thinks. Not long ago at all. He remembers distinctly all of the times he had encountered you on the street, or the times he’d flown you home after a carefully acted day out.

But when was the last time he’d really talked to you? Held a normal conversation?

He finds himself squeezing the hem of his shirt, so hard that his knuckles begin to fade into a sickly white. It’s like a punch in the face to realise something so late, but he can’t help but consider it a bit of a blessing to even recognise it in the first place.

“You know, this makes it easier if it’s just ___.” Eli interrupts Gavin’s downspiralling thoughts, resting his chin on his hand as he says, “We can just ask her about it face to face, then we don’t have to bother with the paperwork for requesting an official interview.”

And around an hour later, that’s how Gavin ends up in front of your company’s doors, cursing Eli and his cluelessness.

He swallows the ball of nerves in his throat and fidgets with his hands for a moment, but he knows that he can’t stay there forever. Everyone around him moves unabridged and casually, whether it be while talking on bluetooth or out on a late afternoon jog. He may not be the only one around that’s stuck in the past, but he sure is the only one taking time to dwell on it.

He uses that much to prompt himself inside.

The inside of the building is just as he remembers it to be, if not the same as it was months ago. It’s the little things he notices, like the familiar fake plants sitting in the corner of the waiting room, or the painting hanging on the wall that you’d mentioned was a gift from your dad a few times.

He’s relieved at least one thing is still familiar.

“Hey stranger. How can I help you?"

Gavin instinctively turns towards the voice, his eyes momentarily widening when he sees who sits behind the reception desk.

"Anna? What are you doing up here?” He gives your friend a polite smile as he makes his way over to where she sits. “Where’s the receptionist?”

She sighs, shaking her head. “He quit a few days ago, so your girlfriend put me up here on duty.”

Gavin pulls his lips into a thin line, trying to hold back his surprise. She didn’t tell them?

“Um, anyway, speaking of ___, where is she right now? I need to talk to her." He changes the subject as quickly as he can manage, and thankfully, Anna doesn’t seem to notice that was the intent.

“Right now? Should be up in her office finishing paperwork.”

“Okay, great. …Do I need a pass or anything?” He asks this, but regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth. They're suspicious, of course, and it’s a dumb question regardless.

Anna gives him a deservedly strange look.

“Um, no, of course not.” She tries to ease the suddenly tense atmosphere with a laugh. “Just go. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.”

“Right,” He laughs nervously and briefly giving his thanks, steadily walking towards the direction of the elevator. When he steps inside, though, he lets out a long sigh. The previous awkward interaction left an embarrassed sting in his chest, and the familiar oncoming heartache of seeing you again will no doubt only add to it.

So, he spends the entire minute of the ride downright terrified.

It’s not like everything is magically resolved when your door opens either, though. The moment he hears your voice acknowledge his presence from inside the office, it’s appropriate to say that his heartbeat doubles -- or even triples, in just seconds.

But contrary to what he expects, your eyes still light up upon registering his face. He doesn’t understand why you’re happy to see him, but he welcomes it regardless.

“Gavin! It’s nice to see you.” You give him a friendly smile, but the all-too familiar feeling of anxiousness still lingers in your expression.

Startled, he just smiles back as he says, “Yeah, likewise. How are things here at the office lately?”

“Ah,” You sigh out a laugh. “They’re fine, but I’m sure you’ve already heard from Anna that our receptionist just quit. It won’t be hard to find a replacement, but it still kind of sucks since he was responsible for coffee runs.”

Gavin winces novelly, playing into your slightly joking tone. “That does suck. Who’s been going instead, then?”

“Minor offered, thank god.” You smile, a sliver of joy finally peaking through your tired eyes.

“That’s good.” He nods, slightly relieved at the sight. “I wanted to ask you, though, I saw an article in the paper that said it came from your company. Since when have you thought to put articles in the paper? I never heard anything about it from you, so--”

You interject, “Articles? We don’t write articles. That’s not the type of company we are.”

He blinks.

“Your company, though--” Gavin fishes his phone out of his jacket, where he pulls up the article in question. “This traces back here.”

Your brows furrow as you lean forward to read the screen in his hand, unaware of the way his face begins to heat up when noticing your concentration. On the other hand, he’s very painfully aware of how your brows twitch as you read it over, and even more so to the way your lips twist in apt concern.

Gavin spits out an explanation in place of the straining silence, and you nod along, though you take in every word at half its worth due to your own racing heart.

“We have basically no contact with the owners of that building, so we wouldn’t be able to get the footage either even if we wanted to.” You explain steadily, hiding your nerves in the squeeze of your knuckles beneath the table. “I don’t remember giving anyone permission to even write something like that, anyway.”

“Would someone else have given permission, then? Or, alternatively, do you think someone put it there for any other reason?”

“I can’t think of another reason, but there are definitely other people in the building who can give permission to employees, of course. “ You push a laugh. “I’m not the one sole source.”

“Anna can do almost everything I can, so maybe she did. Try her next.”

With that, the conversation trickles off weakly. It’s unbearable to do so, but Gavin leaves the room with a clambering heart. He has no doubt that things ought to be difficult if this is what he’ll be returning to, but still saves face for the chance that everything will turn out okay.

And around an hour later, he exits the building carrying all the information he needs.

“Eli, the guy’s gone and quit.”

His partner looks up at him with locked brows when he returns to the STF. “Our article writer?”

Gavin purses his lips and goes silent in thought, but it’s all the answer Eli needs. Gavin’s chest is heavily wrought with regret and disappointment that spans over multiple reasons, but he merely shakes out his shoulders and takes a seat down next to the other man, concealing his face in the way he always has.

Eli only turns a blind eye to Gavin’s front.“I guess that’s just our luck, but it’s still okay right now. Did you get any details about him?”

“Yeah, I managed. I’m not completely sure they’re real, though.”

Gavin hands Eli the small slip of paper that Anna had scawled the man’s information on and explains as he reads it over.

“Anyone else probably wouldn’t get anything out of this,” Gavin says, referencing only the name and phone number of the man in question written on the paper. “But since we’re here, we can probably do something with it, at least.”

Eli nods along as he speaks, and upon skimming the information, a pleased smile curves at his lips. “At least? We’ll have to run them, but it seems viable enough to me -- maybe even enough that this can finally give us the info we need to close the case.”

He returns a smile at the thought.

“I hope it does.”

Gavin’s mind brings him back to a few hours prior, where he watches himself trip and stumble over himself around you through the pitiful eye of his own memory. It takes a lot of him not to frown outwardly at his mistakes, but little to gain the determination needed to fix it. What happened then, that’s not how it’s supposed to be, and he knows it.

The memories switch to happier times when his heart finds it in him -- the starry and clear night he finally kissed you on the ferris wheel, the buzzing warmth of your arms around his torso when he goes a strategically fast speed on on his motorcycle, and of course, the moments where all he can see is you smiling in front of him, looking just as delighted as you always have been.

It’s just out of his grasp, but Gavin finds himself hoping that it’s still in his reach.

Because, in his mind, nothing is truly unattainable. And that philosophy goes for everything, but is most virtuous when it becomes the bearer of good news.

“Everything about this guy checks out for now.” Eli says this from his spot at the database station days later, turning his head over his shoulder to where Gavin is checking the contents of his utility belt from across the room. “So, I’m not sure that much precaution is necessary, Gavin.”

The other doesn’t even look up at his remark.

“Better safe than sorry. You know that.”

Eli just laughs and nods, obviously in a good mood regardless of his partner’s hesitance. “Ok then, whatever you want.”

Gavin gives him a dubious look, but otherwise goes back to his business.

“It’s not like we have much to expect, anyway.”

But, whether or not you expect something doesn’t deter fate. It seemed easy enough at the time, anyway -- so there was no reason for Gavin to doubt their plan even as he walked up to the man’s presumed address.

He eases into the situation by knocking on the mahogany door softly, calling out with what Eli had long called his ‘business’ voice.

“Police! Is anyone home?”

Gavin notes a candle in the window out of his peripheral vision and instinctively furrows his brows. Whoever’s here, the perp or not, it’s clear that they’re at least not one step ahead of him.

So, with that in mind, he makes the split decision to try the door. And much to his surprise, it opens without a lick of trouble, even the hinges not making the slightest sound. He purses his lips slightly as he comes face to face with the dark entryway he was expecting, yet still chooses to silently draw his weapon before stepping into the building.

And the moment he locates a pair of eyes in the dark, he knows his decision to do so was correct.

He clicks his tongue with the shift of the safety lock, his expression instinctively hardening even though he’s sure that the person can see just as much as he can.

“Come out with your hands up!”

Gavin’s voice doesn’t waver, but neither does the faceless figure in the dark.

Multiple sets of footsteps echo throughout the entryway, but Gavin doesn’t let them make a show. His eyes stay locked on the same unblinking ones that had drawn him in, and cocks his gun as if in warning.

Maybe they actually are one step ahead.

“I’ll say it one last time -- and that goes to anyone in the room. Come out with your hands up.”

His voice is cold, and if it were ordinary people standing around him, perhaps they would have listened. But, the thugs surrounding him have little in common with the regular citizen, most startlingly obvious in the weapons they hide sheathed in their belts; daggers engraved by the agency they belong to:

BLACK SWAN COLLECTIVE

The last thing Gavin can recall is the sharp pain of someone thrusting the handle of one of the said weapons into the back of his head, immediately sending him into a darkness he tried so hard to avoid.

Maybe it’s futile, useless even, but as everything goes black, he can’t help but think of you.

“You aren’t seriously planning on wearing that, are you?”

You look back at the exasperated voice that interrupts your shoot preparation, the recording equipment in your hands shifting slightly with your deep sigh.

“Victor, it’ll be hot once we’re on set, I promise.” Sending him only a brief smile, you continue to wrap the cords up. It’s quiet long enough that you naturally assume he’s left, but a few minutes later, you feel a presence at your side taking the last microphone and starting to mimic the same process you’ve been at for what feels like hours.

Victor takes in a near silent breath as he places the microphone in its case, zipping it shut with such familiarity that it momentarily muddles your brain. It’s been almost two years since you’d met him for the second time, walking into his office only to meet his cold voice and fearsome business methods. You’re subconsciously glad that you’ve gone through so much together, albeit tough, because your relationship has moved far because of it all.

“...I’ll grab a jacket before we leave.” You look up and flash another smile at him, but this time, you try to make it seem like you mean it. He seems to notice your hesitance regardless, but the look in his eyes still lifts slightly as he nods wordlessly.

The location of the shoot itself isn’t very far-close enough that the transportation won’t be taxing-but the stakes are still high nonetheless. A reputable American fashion outlet had reached out to Anna around a month ago asking if your company would consider filming an episode featuring some of their pieces, and even without asking you first, she had accepted in a heartbeat.

You couldn’t be mad at her for obvious reasons, of course, but you almost considered thanking her for a separate reason, too -- because it somehow seemed to line up on the perfect date.

It’s a hard pill to swallow even as you think about it, but today, the date of the shooting, is your and Gavin’s would-be year anniversary.

Without this shoot, there’s no doubt in your mind that you would be sulking at home otherwise, halfway through your second or third depression nap of the day. But instead, here you are, conversing quite normally to Victor and feeling a little less hopeless than you expected.

Your mind momentarily flickers to him, though, as if habitually. You can only imagine what he’s feeling like right now, sadly, but you still can’t help but pray that at least a fraction of him feels the pain you do

“___!”

Then someone calls your name, and suddenly, you’re back to work again.

One of the main focuses of the episode for your team is the outfits people on-screen wear, of course. But otherwise, the episode itself features a local meteorologist aiming to spread more information and awareness about the conditions of the recent continuous snow. It may not be known to be directly related to superpowers as of now, but as the producer of Miracle Finder, it’s your job to find miracles, and not only those of the supernatural kind.

“Okay, Victor, let me know when everything on that side is good. I’ll check over here.” You say this and wait for nothing more than a nod before going ahead and double-checking with all of your employees that stand ready to record.

All of your operations for the day seem to be going smoothly, so you shoot a quick thumbs-up to the main cameraman. As soon as your arm is back down at your side, though, you notice your phone buzzing from the pocket of your jacket.

Anxiety habitually runs through you as the screen lights up with a blocked number, unwillfully taking you back to all the times you’d been directly contacted by the unknown officers of Black Swan. It startles you so much that you think about letting it ring, but in the last moments, you decide to pick up.

You release a short breath of relief when an automated voice reaches your ears, and you even find yourself feeling a bit dumb about freaking out over nothing. Yet, while you think, a few words the robotic voice says catch your attention and send your heart into another panicked frenzy.

a wind evolver.

You bite down on your lip subconsciously, hoping that you heard wrong.

The voice says an address with its now eerie-seeming tone, and you squeeze your eyes shut as tightly as you can when the line cuts off without warning.

It’s a prank call. You think, not noticing the way Victor’s eyes finally find your worried ones from across the room. Gavin’s completely fine.

You stuff your phone back in your pocket with a resigned huff, a sour feeling settling deep in your stomach the longer you just stand there. Certain possibilities begin to habitually fly through your mind at a rate where you can barely discern them from one another, but each one leaves you with the same aching in your gut -- the same aching that has saved you so many times.

So, you take your phone out again and dial the number you know by heart.

The line’s continuous ringing suddenly seems ominous, and somehow worsens when you’re greeted by Gavin’s voicemail. But, you don’t want to give up just yet, so you find another name in your contacts that could potentially help.

Eli and you don’t communicate often-at least, not much outside of the times you see him-but he had given you his number soon after realising how close you were to Gavin, only just in case. You didn’t think there would ever have to be a ‘just in case’ scenario -- at least, until now.

Thankfully, he picks up after the first couple of rings, his familiar voice bringing a small smile to your face.

“Hey Eli,” You return, your smile growing slightly at the soft sound of recognition he lets out.

“___!” It sounds like he sits up straight before continuing. “It’s nice hearing from you. What’s up?”

You take in a hesitant breath before starting. There’s still a small chance that you’ll be asking baseless questions, and as embarrassing as that might be, you know you’d rather take it than the alternative.

“Well, it’s something with Gavin.” You say. “I just got this weird phone call saying something about him, and now I can’t get a hold of him. Is he with you?”

Eli doesn’t respond for what feels like a millenia, but then, the soft sound of a keyboard fills your ears, so you opt to wait patiently. He unabashedly picks the phone back up a few seconds later and sighs.

“..Do you remember what the phone call said?”

You recount the automated voice’s words and wince at how Eli curses under his breath. If anything, you know it’s at least not a good sign.

“What? What is it?” Dread spirals through your chest as you ask, habitually expecting the worst.

“Gavin went on a mission last night. He told me he’d get in touch when he finished, but he hasn’t yet.” You can almost hear him contemplating from across the line. “___, thanks for calling, but I’ve gotta go now--”

“Wait!’ you quickly interject, garnering the interest of a few production crew around you. But, you pay no mind to them. “Let me come with you.”

“What? No, ___, you’re not coming with me. Gavin would kill me if I got his girlfriend hurt!”

“Eli,” You sigh, a fingertip’s length away from sitting down to massage your temples. It seems that Gavin had chosen not to tell his colleagues about your breakup as well, but that doesn’t help the massive headache it causes every time to explain when someone catches on. “Gavin and I broke up 3 months ago. And now that that’s out of the way, I’m meeting you at the STF in 20 minutes, and if you aren’t there, I’m going to that address myself.”

He’s silent for a few moments before he lets out a reluctant agreement, only to peg on a few rules at the end that you just nod to.

“...20 and that’s it. Any more and i’m leaving without you.”

“Then I'll be there in 15.” You challenge, unable to contain your smile when you hear his resigned laugh.

“Then I’m counting down, ___.”

You say your goodbyes and hang up the phone, quickly thinking to find Victor. It’s unethical to leave during the middle of a shoot and you know he’ll give you crap for it, but you pray that the case of emergency will balance him out, even if it’s just a little bit.

You whisper his name until you’re able to wave him down, unable to help your nervous smile as he approaches you.

“___? Why aren’t you over there monitoring those--”

“I’m really sorry, but there’s an emergency that I need to--”

You cut yourself off when you notice Victor’s surprisingly unreactive face.

“I need to, um, be there. To help with it.”

Victor’s sigh feels heavier than usual as he crosses his arms, hitting you with his signature dubious look. But, the words that come out of his mouth aren’t at all what you expect.

“You look like you’re expecting me to decline something I have no right to keep you from doing in the first place.”

His words take a few moments to process in your jumbled brain, but before you can even react, he begins to shoo you away.

“That means go, dummy.” A soft laugh escapes his lips as his expression begins to melt. “I’ll tell your coworkers, just try to hurry back so I’m not blamed if something goes wrong.”

Your face perks up at the unexpected but appreciated development, shifting with a wide grin as you thank Victor as many times as possible before slipping away. While you weave your way through the distracted crew members, your phone mimics a lead weight in your pocket-- something that’s almost painful to ignore

But you only keep walking, putting on a brave face and praying that Gavin is okay.

“Nineteen minutes, ___.” Eli tells you this as soon as you hurry through the STF’s doors, tapping his smart watch with a familiar smile. “What happened to that fifteen you were talking about?”

“Shut up,” You scoff, unable to hold back your smile as you shake your head. “Would you really have left without me, anyway?”

“You know the answer already. But enough about that, come with me and I’ll catch you up a bit before we head out.”

You descend into silence as you follow Eli to the research room most frequented by the duo over the past few months, listening to the man skim over the events prior while somehow still leaving no semblance of a detail out. It’s faster than you expect, his explanation, yet it leaves you with very little gaps in the story between Eli’s and your own accounts.

“But, ___,” Eli begins as he picks up his jacket, meeting your eyes with such intensity that you almost flinch. “Make sure that when we’re there, you stay behind me no matter what. If they took Gavin down…”

He doesn’t need to finish.

“Yeah,” You choke out softly, berated by the hazy image your head provides of Gavin being so easily overpowered. “I will.”

Eli gives you a small reassuring smile before leading you out of the room, checking that every piece of his equipment is on correctly as he walks. An involuntary chill runs down your spine at a catch of his expression -- his usual carefree smile replaced with the solemn air that you would expect from an officer.

And you don’t like it one bit.

Gavin’s eyes shoot open, drawing a sharp gasp from his lungs as he slowly begins to regain consciousness. But the crackling sensation that floods his chest cuts him off before he can even so much as catch his bearings, begetting an irritated wince from the already tired man.

His vision is clouded by not only exhaustion, though, as the room is also dark in what feels like an unreasonable manner. Absolutely nothing is clear, whether it be what had happened beforehand, or even what lays a few feet in front of him. But in the meantime, another sharp pain forces him to look down and find out.

Rope burns his wrists as he twists his hands, trying to gauge a location for the extreme pain that has suddenly popped up. Gavin curses under his breath as he looks at the gruesome beds that used to hold his fingernails, snippets of memory coming back to him as his eyes rake over the beaten skin.

“You’re in no position to protect her anymore. Give up.”

A curt voice had induced Gavin to look up hours before, glaring into the tepid eyes that already stared back into his own.

“Ya hear that, pretty boy?”

The second and last black swan officer in the room had leaned over slightly as he engaged Gavin, but stood up straight again when the first gave him a subtle yet strong look of warning.

Gavin was silent throughout the exchange, though in his mind, he knew they were talking about you. Black Swan’s interest in you had all but lessened in the recent months, much to his and the STF’s displeasure. Knowing that they were after someone so powerless but not having the slightest idea why -- that scared him beyond belief.

“Your silence will change nothing,” The first man said, calmly re-buttoning his long coat. “Wind evolver, I’m afraid this is it for you.”

Gavin squeezes his eyes shut upon recalling the interaction he’d tried arduously to forget, inadvertently biting his lip so hard that it disturbs the blood already dried there. Disappointment and pain go hand in hand while flaring through his chest in equal measures.

He even briefly considers using his evol despite how little energy he has left, but is painfully aware of what it would take to escape if he did.

So he stays still, his mind racing far too much to notice the pain. Because even if he should, it’s not him that’s he’s worried about --

It’s you.

Meanwhile, seemingly worlds apart from the danger Gavin perceives, you sit in Eli’s passenger seat, safe and sound yet fueled by the vehicle’s general silence. A part of you thinks that you should be scared, but only because you know it wouldn’t be refuted as much as if you said how you really feel.

It’s not necessarily wrong to be determined, though. And because you’re sure that if your roles were reversed, Gavin would think the same, you don’t ponder on the subject any longer. There’s no use in worrying about something you’ve already set your mind to.

And your intuition proves to be correct.

Upon arriving at the designated address, Eli immediately comments on how normal everything looks, and you can’t help but nod your head in agreement. It’s a small traditional style house that you stop in front of, yet to have signs of people inhabiting it other than the few candles to be seen behind some of the shaded windows -- too ordinary for a place that supposedly serves as a lockhouse for Black Swan

“...It doesn’t really look like anyone’s home.”

“Good. Let’s just hope the bastards have left so we can get in and out, then.” Eli says, squinting at one of the windows while noiselessly drawing his gun. “We don’t want to spend any more time here than we need to.”

Eli wastes no time after you hastily concur, very obviously ready to stay true to his words and making quick work of the lock. The entryway is small and homey, but it has an odd smell to it -- one that’s familiar, but not so much so that you can directly pinpoint it.

It sends an involuntary chill down your spine just thinking about it, though Eli says nothing about it, so you choose to do the same even if it’s difficult. He’s too busy surveying the area to notice your hesitance anyway, and you don’t blame him. If your sources are correct, Gavin is somewhere nearby. There’s no time to be distracted, no matter the circumstance.

With that in mind, you force all of the bad premonitions away and focus on the matter at hand -- and the fact that Eli is looking more sceptical with each passing second. It’s understandable, how his eyes flit around uneasily enough for the both of you combined, but you feel yourself getting impatient just watching him.  

“Eli…” You mumble, elbowing him and giving him the liberty of pretending not to notice when he flinches. “Let’s start looking.”

His gaze falls to meet yours, and after a moment of thought, he nods. “Fine. Just stay close, okay?”

You don’t have any qualms with that.

Following Eli around as he checks each room is an unexpectedly stressful job, not knowing if Gavin lies beyond the doors until you get the chance to peek inside yourself. The call you’d received earlier burns hot in your memory each time you do so, the voice’s words of warning towards a so-called wind evolver damning.

It’s a scenario you don’t want to delve into, but is unfortunately a reality you have to be ready to accept.

It takes a few attempts to locate the right place, though it’s all-too easy in the long run; almost worryingly so. But even so, that doesn’t stop you from nudging Eli aside to see the scene better for yourself.

The smell you’d noticed at the entrance is potent here, and with a scrunch of your nose, you finally put a name to the hazy smell. It’s the same one you’d become acquainted with after spending so much time in the hospital months back, and while grotesque, it’s almost intimate in the way you remember it.

Narcotics; the pills and liquids you were given to ease your pain each day and night, hang in the dense air.

Tears fill your eyes as you make your way over to where Gavin sits abandoned against the wall, uncertain of where to start. Bruises litter his exceptionally pale skin almost to the point of disfigurement, and the parts of his hands that are visible from where you crouch down show the empty beds that used to hold his fingernails.

You’re afraid to touch him.

Eli comes up beside you, his hurried footsteps conveying the worry you both feel. But unlike you, he has little problem in taking action immediately, taking Gavin’s wrist and feeling for a pulse.

He doesn’t speak, but Eli’s expression tells you enough.

You take your leave quickly after, relaying Gavin to the nearest hospital and tearfully handing him off to the startled nurses. As you sit, Eli takes the opportunity to fill in the doctor assigned to Gavin, even showing his badge to stress the severity of the situation.

The entire ordeal takes days.

Life all but goes back to normal afterwards, your schedule ultimately flipping on its head with the man you love unconscious in the hospital. The rounds you make to visit him are constant enough that you even acquaint yourself with some of the nurses that frequent his room in the time you’re not at his side.

But even they are incapable of soothing your worries.

Gavin feels nothing but sparkling white pain. Whether it’s burning or freezing to the touch, he can’t tell, but it’s an awfully persistent sensation. It’s confusion personified, and like quicksand, he finds himself unwillingly drowning in it. It’s similar to the lights he sees when he first opens his eyes again -- washing everything out with little effort.

Gavin’s gaze adjusts to an unfamiliar ceiling in due time, and soon after, his ears catch up to pick up the faint sound of a beeping heart monitor. Copious amounts of his senses return to him at once, launching him into a coughing fit that makes him very abruptly aware of the warm presence at his side.

They call his name, though their voice is hardly distinguishable.

But, then they reach out and cup his cheek, delicately rubbing their thumb over the shallow cut that lies there. The intimate touch is unmistakable from then on, the way it caresses his skin familiarly soothing him.

“___…”

Your name leaves his lips in a single pant, his eyes squeezing shut as his coughing suddenly begins to cease. You almost find yourself holding your breath as you look on at him, waiting for another sign of life.

And soon enough, his eyes begin to open again, slowly focusing on your face from where you lean beside him. Gavin’s lips turn up in a small smile, and he makes no attempt to hide the affection that oozes from his gaze.

“___.” He repeats your name, his emotions stretching out control as tears come to his eyes. A thousand things flash through them at once, baring both things you expect and things you don’t.

“...Are you okay?” You ask hesitantly, your hand shifting to cup the side of his head as you study his expression. “Does something hurt?”

Gavin only smiles in response, bringing a hand up to cover his eyes as his body shakes silently. You stare at him for a moment, at a slight loss of what to do when you realise you can’t distinguish whether he’s laughing or crying.

“I’m so sorry, ___.”

You don’t understand.

“What?” Your brows furrow as tears begin to prick at your eyes yet again. “What are you apologising for? None of this is your fault..”

Gavin shakes his head, inadvertently cutting you off.

He lets his hand fall back down to his side, allowing you to see his puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. You can only stare at him as he continues to avert his eyes, ultimately surprised at his uncharacteristic outburst.

“I thought limiting our contact would help keep you safe.” He weeps quietly, his cheeks flushing from what you assume is a healthy mix of embarrassment and emotion. “But I caused us both so much pain. Every day I was held back by the possibility of messing everything up and never being able to see you again…”

Your heart flutters and drops all in the same motion.

I was right after all?

The memories recall moments stretching back to months ago, to all the moments you spent doubting that everything was really done; that you were really expected to move on like nothing was wrong. But hearing that your suffering wasn’t in vain somehow makes it seem like it was all worth it in the most twisted way.

“But look at you,” You interject softly, releasing a stagnated breath as Gavin looks on at you. “You’re here, next to me, and Gavin -- I won’t leave you. You won’t mess up, and everything will be fine..”

Your words fall out little by little as your eyes well with tears, but every single one is wiped away by the hand of the man in front of you.

Your reach up and place your hand over his. “I promise.”

Things are not all well, and little is fixed when you leave the hospital for the night. But somehow, you still feel like it’s just enough.

Gavin arises hours later feeling like his body is full of lead, unable to even open his eyes enough to focus on the dull light of the setting sun. But it’s with that alone does he realise that you’re no longer asleep next to him.

It makes him anxious in his delirium to think about how you’re probably home well by now, doing a face mask and scrolling casually through social media despite the unceremonious hour. You’re in the perfect spot for someone to take advantage of, namely referring to the Black Swan officers he’d recently become acquainted with.

But you’re blissfully unaware of his worries, making your way back home without an inkling of similar emotions in you. If anything, after months of your future appearing gray and blurry, the unexpected clarity of the situation eases something in you.

It’s a relief how lucky you’ve been.

Gavin’s thoughts go to the same concept as he pulls the thick hospital blanket off of himself, lips twisting into a thin line. It’s a miracle you’ve both managed to get so far -- and luck, unfortunately, only stretches so far.

It’s easy to get his original set of clothes back from the nurse, who seemed weak in the knees from the moment he approached her. The shirt smells distinctly of bleach, though his head feeds him the putrid scent of his own old blood regardless of how well it had been scrubbed out.

Getting out is the harder part. While the on duty nurse had been kind enough to slip things like his phone and badge back into his pocket, it was hell convincing the receptionist to let him check out even when he opted to show them his badge. Though eventually, with his name and number written down haphazardly on a loose scrap of paper, he’s given tight permission to leave temporarily.

The night air sends a chill down Gavin’s spine, and the quick change in temperature has the bandages covering his body sticking awkwardly to his skin. He tries to alleviate the discomfort, but the air currents feel odd in the way they swirl around him, somehow unfamiliar in the few days he’d spent locked away.

Though he shakes this away, writing it off just as he has hundreds of times before.

It’s harder than he expects to fly the short distance to your apartment. His healing wounds give way to a slight headache that only interferes more with the air around him. When he drops himself on your balcony, he practically has to lean over to catch his breath.

Gavin’s brows twine delicately together as he clears his throat a final time, straightening up and making sure there’s no sign of his trouble before knocking on the glass.

He smiles when he notices you padding over in your slippers through the sheer curtain. You seem casual enough that it lets him release a breath, relieved that his worries were for nothing. But then you suddenly open the door, catching him off guard once again.

“Gavin?” You’re rightfully shocked at his sudden appearance, the moonlight lining his quickly drooping figure in silver. “Why are you here instead of the hospital?”

He sighs gingerly, averting his eyes with a sheepish smile.

“I… was worried about you.”

You purse your lips lightly, your eyes going up and down his injured body. It’s hard not to notice the way he stands unevenly, no doubt to hide his limp and alleviate the pain in his torso -- but that much shows in just the way he slouches.

As if on cue, Gavin fumbles, letting himself come down into your waiting arms. His breathing is hard in your ear as you stroke the back of his head, cutting down a bubbling sigh in your throat.

Of course he came to check on me.

“You can barely stand, Gav. What were you thinking coming all the way here?” You lean back to see his tired face and chatsey him gently. “You need more time.”

“I was worried about you, ___.” He reaches up hesitantly to stroke your cheek with his thumb, silencing you for a split second as you watch him.

Gavin’s voice is raspy, showing not only his fatigue but also the pain he tries so hard to hide. “Can you allow me that much?”

You pull your lips into a line and look over his face. His eyes search yours simultaneously, but for what, you aren’t sure -- a sign of forgiveness? Leniency? You only know that whatever he wants to find, he probably won’t.

“Why would you be worried about me?” You ask, brows coming together in a delicate sign of frustration. “You were on the verge of death only days ago!”

He lets his hand fall from your cheek as he exhales. “I know. But your name is passed around a lot when it comes to the black swan officers. This time was no different.”

You don’t respond.

Gavin takes your silence as an opportunity to continue. “So, I decided that after my evol leveled out, I would come and check on you. Just to be sure.”

“But what I don’t get, is why you couldn’t wait?” You say, your eyes narrowing slightly as his ajar mouth closes slowly. “You’re nowhere close to being healed. And if you were that worried, I’m sure Eli or someone would’ve--”

He interjects, his eyes darting away. But you don’t miss the way they soften. “Because I owe you this much, ___. I hope you can understand what I mean.”

You do. The things he had said when he first woke up in the hospital, about the situation and the pressure he hoped to alleviate, it all connects back to where you stand now. So, as much as you hate to admit it, Gavin isn’t completely in the wrong for coming.

You nod, sighing in renouncement.

“Yeah. Yeah, Gavin, I do understand. Sorry.” You say it a bit reluctantly, your eyes shifting down until Gavin catches your face in his hands again.

His lips turn up in a small but attractive smile as he nods. “Hey, don’t apologise for being concerned. I love you for caring.”

You could almost swear that you’re hearing things, but looking up into his eyes, you know you aren’t. Your eyes narrow again, but this time in a more goading manner.

“What’s that?” You hum quietly, smiling up at him as the distance between you slowly begins to close.

Gavin gives you the charming smile you missed, his lips brushing yours as he speaks. “I’ll say it as many times as you want, as log as you never forget it.”

The kiss is soft and slow at first -- as meaningful as it should be, but it steadily transitions into what you’ve been holding back since the moment you met eyes again. His hand shifts languidly to cradle the back of your head, augmenting the already rising feeling in your chest.

His hands mould to you as time drags by, seemingly slowing down in your interaction alone. It makes you happy knowing that some semblance of your buried attraction is still eager to pop out again.

Everything passes by quickly after that point, to the moment you’re standing inside again, pulling away from him.

“Gavin, it’s late, you need to rest.”

He looks at you with a boyish glint in his eyes, his lips twisting slightly.

“Let’s stay up later.”

You step aside to pull back the covers on your bed for him. “But it’s sleep! You know, that thing you need to function--?”

He cuts you off by pulling you back up for another kiss, laughing with you as you ultimately decide to return his affection. But, then he catches you by surprise and lifts you into his arms.

“Ok!” You squeal in delight as you’re dropped right down onto your open bedsheets, your hair splaying messily around you. “Five minutes, that’s all!”

“Ten!”

The worst day of loving someone is the day that you lose them. But, one of the best is when you earn them back.

[weirdnessxmagnet]

Dig Two Graves

February 2021, The Otherlands

“We’ve been at this for hours, my dear. You deserve a short rest or you’ll burn yourself out.”

"Burning myself out is my MO." Toni joked, though she made no protest when Anna insisted they take a break and set about filling the kettle, leaving Toni to contemplate the stubborn stand of bubblegum pink hair still hanging before her eyes. She'd been aiming for natural red.

“I would offer you tea, but I know you’re wise enough not to take it.”

"You're not even going to try? Are you sure you're feeling well? Maybe I was tired enough to slip up, and now we'll never know." It was a joke and it wasn't. While Anna had been as thorough and patient a teacher as always, there was a distinct shortage of the usual mischief, and Antonia was beginning to wonder if this break wasn't for her own benefit. "Anna if I've turned my hair pink, will it go back if I just ignore it or will I need to work out how to turn this off?"

“You have a point, we can only dream of how many ways I could have trapped you here if your tiredness clouded your judgement.” The fey gave a quiet half-laugh as she felt for the jar she needed, finding a cup not too far from it. “As for your hair, because you are still learning and there isn’t quite so much power behind it yet it will fade of it’s own accord. Give it an hour or two, it shouldn’t last much longer than that.”

"Oh, good." Antonia nodded, not that the purely visual gesture likely communicated anything at all to her host, and brushed the offending strand behind her ear, where she could more easily ignore its lingering 'you tried' energy. It was progress, she reminded herself. Power couldn't come overnight, no matter how impatient you were.

Anna set the kettle on the stove and returned to her seat across from Toni while she waited for it to boil. “Continue the way you’re going, and you’ll be able to hold it as long as I without much thought.”

"You think so?" Toni laughed, more than a little flattered at the suggestion. Anna was no novice. Matching her in anything would be a significant achievement.

“I once turned my hair blue for 3 days, not a complete tragedy you understand. I was barely 10, it was much more fun than it should have been. Not quite so much so for my father.”

Toni laughed at the story, having heard enough similar tales from Anselm himself to easily picture it, but with nothing to add silence settled over the room and hung uneasily for a moment before Anna spoke again, fingers drumming ever-so-softly on the table top.

“Toni, I wonder if I might ask you a question?”

"You may. Is everything alright?"

Anna stilled her hand, even seemed to stop breathing, for a moment before she spoke again. "I need to speak to you about Andras."

There was a long moment where she did not breathe. Did not move. Even her expression was frozen into the same curious look she'd had before the question was asked. When it hadn't come up in their first few conversations since reconnecting, she had been lulled into the belief that Anna either didn't know, or else was otherwise indifferent. Apparently not.

So this is how I die.

At least Anna would likely be quicker about it that the others. A poor comfort, but something. Still, in what are truly only a few seconds of silence, she assessed everything available to her. Anna's blindness may have given Toni a brief advantage on home ground, but not in the fey's own domain. Would the ring still carry her back, if Anna didn't wish it to? Would her connection to Jawhara persist across planes? Or was this the final death for sure.

Damn it to Hell.

Her fingers hovered over the gems of the teleportation ring as she answered, hoping her suddenly dry throat wasn't too audible. "Oh? What about him?" Toni winced at the sound of her own voice; far too controlled, entirely lacking the expected venom on her tone. She didn't need to sound scared to sound scared.

"I was told that he had been killed for what he had done," Anna started, unusually cautious, "I was told by someone close to me, but I admit the news didn't come with very many answers either. I need to know if y..." She paused for a moment, steadying her breath, and if Toni didn't know better she'd have thought the queen was more scared than angry. "I heard a rumour, that it may have somehow been at your hands. Is that true?"

Well, she wasn't being stabbed. Yet.

Yet being key, because Anna seemed to want confirmation she had the right person first. With that thought came the impulse to lie. She was human, after all, perfectly capably of telling an outright untruth without any careful stepping if she so wished. It might have been the safest course.

Yet the very thought smacked of disrespect, which somehow felt worse than the truth of the situation. At the very least she could own her choices, and the reasons for them. If this was how she went, she was at least not going to be a coward about it.

"Not entirely my work, but by my hand and intentionally so." She inhaled slow and deep once it was said, waiting for the axe to drop. Anna, for her part, was silent for a short time, unmoving as she absorbed what she had been told. It felt like a small eternity.

“I’m... I am... Sorry, Toni.” The words seemed to be difficult for her, though Toni struggled to comprehend them for an entirely different reason. “For your loss. No mother should endure that pain, regardless of how they came to motherhood.”

"What?"

It was as if the words refused to register. That had not been at all what she was expecting, and now she was struggling to kick her adrenaline soaked mind back into working order.

"I..." What in the world was she supposed to say to that? I kill your husband and you're sorry? There were no guidelines for this. "Tha- I appreciate that, Anna. And you have my sympathy for any pain we caused you." She would not say she was sorry for any of it; she really, truly wasn't. Even with Anna in mind she would not hesitate to do it again. Still, Anna's emotions were unfortunate collateral damage.

“Had I known what he had meant to do I would have come to you. I understand why you did what you did.” Anna offered after a moment of quiet contemplation.

"It wouldn't have mattered, the Watchers were deaf to wiser council, and I was in no position to do much of anything alone, but I appreciate the thought." Her anxiety was gradually ebbing away, giving way to a familiar heavy melancholy that ruled all conversations on this subject as of late. She almost missed having Andras to focus her rage on; sadness left her so much more tired.

“I think hard-headedness goes hand in hand with wings. I offer my apologies for bringing the subject into conversation, but I needed to know. I needed to know who finished it and I needed to know that my children needn’t keep watch over their shoulders waiting for something that may or may not come.”

"I understand. Your children are safe from me, and from Ezekiel, but I can't speak for any of the other Watchers. From what he's told me, though, it seems like they've already moved on to their next scheme. You're probably in the clear." Toni had firm rules around involving partners and children in revenge plots, specifically that she didn't involve them unless they involved themselves. She would want the same courtesy extended to her, after all.

The answer seemed to satisfy her host, at least, as Anna's shoulders releasing tension Toni hadn't even noticed she was holding. As she did so Toni's own hands finally stopped hovering over her ring.

“I can understand you must been worried when I asked, but I commend you for your honesty.”

Worried! Toni laughed, her own relief audible. "Quite the understatement. I was pretty sure I was about to be on the wrong end of a sharp object. Probably for the last time." Sighing heavily, she stretched the remaining tension out of her body, her chair creaking as she did. "I respect you too much to lie to your face about it."

"The feeling is mutual, I can promise you." The kettle whistled, startling the pair at once. Anna rose from her seat with a small chuckle at herself, making her way back to the counter to add the necessary bits and pieces to her cup and to silence the now boiling kettle. "Sure I can't tempt you? No strings attached." she offered with a mischievous smirk as she held an empty cup aloft. "After all, even my father's quite attached to you and I think he'd be quite put out of I let all the rules apply."

Toni chuckled, shaking her head at the fey's mischievous look, which may as well have been a glaring neon 'Danger' sign. Not a chance. "I'm sure he'd forgive his darling daughter anything. I appreciate the offer but I'm quite alright without." Not so much a return to safety then as as a return to a far more controllable danger. This at least she could handle.