#really wouldn’t go amiss in this ‘fan base’

[backwardshatpierre]

He gets judged for not showing enough emotion. He gets hated for doing exactly that. Granted in not the best way. But fuckin hell it doesn’t warrant all the name calling and abuse that’s been going around. (On top of the daily shit that already gets sent his way!) The apparent need to dissect this outburst of emotions is crazy. He got angry. He may of shoved a member of his team, which if true yes that is bad. He definitely shouldn’t of done that. But to call him so many things, predominately a ‘petulant child’ it’s unwarranted. That term is so incredibly overused and misused within the f1 media it’s so incredibly frustrating. Lance is someone who gets so much hate for just being in the sport that he’s barely used his socials, and his comments were turned off for the longest time because of all the heinous abuse and hate he’s getting on a daily basis for years. To use what happened today to pile so much more of it onto him cause most people feel some grand moral superiority to him is horrible. He’s a person, a human being, where is all the mental health awareness and support that gets preached by so many? Also for anyone who’s paid the slightest bit of attention to Lance, even just in the past year can tell this was seriously out of character. It’s not an excuse but it may be something worth considering.

[tribus-mantodea]

[ Unwritten musings of an unnamed child. ]

WC ~ 1450

She never really knew.

Tighten the binding and pull on the rope; the Child busied herself by fixing a protrusion curving from the ground, not a hint of her heart betrayed upon her features. Every greeting hiss towards her way was acknowledged with a small nod. A flick of her antennae. Something unplaceable. She tapped the marking and, once satisfied with its stability, swept her eyes across the rest of her kin in their humble village. Their interactions hadn’t changed—much, in that they seemed closer now than they did before defecting. As for appearances… she hid her frown and tilted her head. New mutations and a curious orange glow. Stretched forms, adapted coloring—these changes had led her to wonder more of other bugs. How they act. Think. Fight. Appear. And maybe their own culture, too (though she supposed she didn’t care much for Hallownest after all she’s been told).

The mantid stepped away, dismissed herself by lifting her glinting foreclaw high in discreet departure.

Cross the path undisturbed by cobble and silver, swipe away hanging vines, keep herself small. Dance past the teeth, past the bushcreeps. The intrigue could not have come from the creatures inhabiting the wastes alone. They were unique, certainly, but had not provided a challenge (and tasted more strange than not, always feeling like a numbing haze over her mind). 

She paused.

It…

It doesn’t matter, she shouldn’t have to think about it.

Wouldn’t.

-

“Ail and woe by this warm morrow. I see chance that worry pollutes heart…?”

With a huff in reply, the Child allowed herself to press further into her cool hand, antennae folding back as circles are thumbed into own cheek. Her words are softer and kinder, different from the curt and direct language she spoke. The fascinating way the other had carried herself—she didn’t need to ask to know that she was someone respectable.

Someone that was without a doubt Hallownest.

When they hid away within dense greenery and acid pools, there remained an unmistakable meaning in the striking-lustrous armor she donned, great-nail maintained with the tales of fights and memories. Yes. She should have never humored the spark of interest for a proper fight of nail against claw, nor should the other have fanned it back and earned her due favor. She remembered how they twitched, stared, scoffed as if it was obvious whenever she asked the reasoning behind their disdain. It was wrong. Need there be more than that?

Yet there was always something whimsical in the way she spoke that kept her drawn, their interactions never lasting long enough to truly matter. (Then again it did, it did matter, since they were here again and here now in a degree of contact and sweetness she had nearly forgotten in the time passing). It was new. And while she never idled on thoughts of intimacy beyond the pleasant kindlings of family and kin (not that it ever helped that none of the Lords in her memory were ever fixated on finding a match), she’d started to notice the bonds more. Body language that seemed louder now that she was beginning to feel muddled-tired of her own confusing-clear emotions nowadays. The lingering glances and longing touches were all things she would not have cared about if not for the other before her now. (A part of her had wondered if it was infatuation and interest more than a sincere want to be with her. In the end... she supposed it didn’t matter. She enjoyed herself here, now, the light sculpting her lover’s crescent smiling eyes as clear as the wrongness.)

-

Of course, she did know that this had to happen sooner or later.

Aware that despite their precautions and care to meet privately in a way that she would not sow suspicion, she heard tell of her actions and there was certainty that her father had to have known by now by result. The greetings today were more hesitant, void of the kinder undertones, and still she gave her nods in return. It was fine even if they seemed to burn a brighter, glaring orange. A subtle hostility that she accepted. It was inevitable, after all.

She bowed her head when entering the barren tent dubbed as his quarters, clicking her claws once and nearly adding three more before remembering his title. Took a breath.

“Lord. You called?” Her head kept bowed and their gazes locked, she would slowly cross her blades before her. It was… difficult, looking at him directly. Anyone. She had seen them through their changes so she still recognized them, but there was something unmistakably wrong even if his eyes were still as solemn as a Lord’s and as kind as a father’s. He was taller and more imposing now, but tired, worn, and...

“Your union,” he broke her thoughts with a drawl. Testing. Perhaps a hint of uncertainty to his words only she would know of.

“I deny it on behalf of the tribe.”

Funny how cold it felt then, even when she knew,  knew it was coming especially when she herself had trouble admitting the relationship openly. How funny to sit in a loud and aching silence that used to settle more like a comforting warmth between them. To note his own eyes watching her and seeing her own signs like the way she’s stiffened almost imperceptibly with so many words she wanted to say. Unfolding her arms, her head would rise with a sense of pride she would not dismiss.

"Why?"

There was the hidden twitch of conflict crossing his eyes; she saw it, and she knew he had hesitated and something was amiss in how he coolly answered, “Hallownest. Follower of a lie.” As if it was not his own thoughts, at least not entirely. But they never spoke of partners, of love, no, not really, but she couldn’t recall a mention of ruling out a partner solely by allegiance. The Child did not bother to mask her frown this time, discontent more evident than not.

“A lie?”

By his silence, she came to terms that she could no longer treat him like the one in memory and...

-

Brambles and flora and the choking vines. The light spilling through that she used to bask in for brief moments of respite no longer felt warm to her, though she supposed nothing felt quite the same the more she mulled. How she would respond to every little nod and pained cry of her kin that failed to react to her every time they visited. Attempt to touch them as if it would be of solace. It took her longer than she would care to admit to realize this was her resting spot, but maybe she wanted to fool herself into believing a little lie a little longer even when knowing they’ve lost themselves entirely.

It really doesn’t help when remembering the moment she met eyes with the other knight and immediately saw their cold steel piercing through her husk with the sound deafening to none but herself, worse in knowing her subconscious hindered her from seeing that bug as anything else other than her lover’s colleague even among the sundered bodies of her kin. Perhaps things would have been different if she separated them properly?

Too many if’s.

Visits from her father had grown less, as with the rest of the many she remembered.

Time felt as scattered as her thoughts and she couldn’t place why she felt she had to stay. There was nothing saying that she would be able to see her beloved with the peculiar name anytime at all—nor if she was alive—if she idled longer. Especially since she doubted her kin (could they still be considered that now, she wondered) would ever allow it. Still, it never hurt that much to keep a little miserable bit of hope… sort of. Not much to do or anywhere to go anyhow.

She does not know how long it had been until her newest visitor, pale and uncanny but dirtied by the certainty of battle. Its back was all she saw when she had finally processed it, but in a passing beat, it had seemed to return. Returned with a glimmer of something as mysterious as her lover tucked underneath its cloth. Not once looking her way, it seemed to read the inscription. Lowered its head, resting a curiously delicate flower upon the base of her grave. Strange, she swore she knew what it was even without having ever seen it, but perhaps it’s because its description matched the one in her dearest’s stories? And oh, how quickly it had bloomed along the vines, its ethereal glow soothing and calm just like...

Ah.

Recognizing the messenger’s stare, she bowed her head in kind return.

-

smth short to ignore my academic responsibilities haha, pretty messy but it is the general gist of how I like to interpret things, maybe.

[spookyold-saintjm]

I’ll Always Come Back.

So uhh I’ve never written Star Wars before? Despite being a fan for over half my life LOL. 

It’s big-time Poe Dameron yearning hours in this house lately. If you like it let me know and I’ll try to do more sometime?

Poe Dameron x reader

Summary: Poe hasn’t come back from his mission to retrieve the map that leads to Luke Skywalker, but you haven’t given up hope that he’s still out there.

Warnings: sexual references

Word Count: 2,393

You waited. And waited. Waited for what felt like years for a single sign that he wasn’t gone forever. 

But if he was truly gone, you would have felt it, right?  

You’d had many conversations in private with the general from the day you’d confessed that something was different about you. She’d instantly known, and had shared words of wisdom and instruction on how to understand and work in balance with your still-fresh Force sensitivity.  

No, he wasn’t gone. He was somewhere out there, you just knew.

Poe Dameron was one of, if not the best pilot in the Resistance, and quite frankly, you were quickly catching up. You’d lost many to the First Order in your youth, seen far too much, and as soon as you were able you began training to join in the battle against them. You’d risen through ranks quickly, eventually being moved into one of the top squadrons in the Resistance. Your strong will and sharp eye made you a valuable asset, your quick wit made you likable.  

Those things and then some captured Poe’s interest upon your first meeting.  

You were a challenge, both in the air and otherwise, and he liked that. You were someone that wouldn’t immediately fall head-over-heels for any one-liner he could drop on you. In fact, the first night he’d sauntered over to you on a free night at the cantina, one arm leaned against the bar while you sat atop a stool beside him, you gave it right back to him without a falter. In fact, you’d hardly seemed interested at all. And it drove him crazy. 

Of course, you went back to your quarters later that evening and spent far, far too long thinking about him and what those smooth-talking lips would feel like on yours. 

It was a couple long months before he’d completely won you over, really meaning you’d finally given in one night and shoved him against a wall of the hallway leading to the conference room after a briefing. Bodies flush against each other, lips on lips, necks, collarbones, in the matter of a couple minutes before you’d both practically ran to his quarters. Fast. Quiet. 

And that was the way things had to remain; your relationship would have absolutely been frowned upon, seen as a distraction. It was one of the reasons you’d been so hesitant to make a move, so eager to find any excuse to not allow him to creep into your thoughts when you were alone and thinking about nothing more than how much you missed someone by your side, tangled in the sheets with you in the middle of sleepless nights... 

But it was more than the sex, though that was certainly something. The more you leaned about each other, both through missions together or masking your conversations as casual through through time off spent with other members of the squadron, it became more. You both realized you’d found someone to confide in, someone safe, someone who you could see yourself being around long after the war was over. And it killed the both of you to be forced to contain that assurance, that shred of hope, locked away behind closed doors, behind hushed words, ghosted touches, and glances across the meeting room that lasted a beat too long. 

Poe had most recently been sent on what was his most important mission to date: to retrieve the missing piece of the map that would supposedly lead the Resistance to Luke Skywalker himself. While the mission had been painstakingly charted and planned, it was an exceptionally dangerous one. One that Poe might not come back from. 

Of course, that was the case with any mission. The difference was that you weren’t joining him on this one. The general had asked specifically for your assistance at base in Poe’s absence, although you knew it was also so she would have more time to instruct you on the ways of the Force. You were grateful for the willing guidance from none other than Leia herself, and it absolutely wasn’t the first time you and Poe had been separated due to a mission, but this one in particular had filled you with a dark dread that you couldn’t escape. 

You’d realized why when his comm abruptly went offline. When there was zero successful contact with his ship or his droid for hours, days. When you found yourself one night, and then another, perched on top of cargo crates in the hangar long after you’d finished your work, waiting for his ship to make its descent back to base. Back to you. 

Yet another day was coming to a close. A couple of your fellow pilots had invited you to dinner, but you simply weren’t feeling up to talking to anyone that night, playing it off as need of a good night’s sleep before trudging back to your quarters.  

You stripped off your gear and took a quick shower, allowing the hot water to ease some of the tension gathered in your back and shoulders. When you finished, you changed into black jogger-style pants and a white tank before grabbing your data pad to read over any new information you might have missed during the day.  

You had finished checking reports and were preparing to settle back into your bed when you felt it. It was a tingling down your spine, a sudden, dull throb in your chest, and something more that you couldn’t describe. 

You froze, your initial reaction to scan your room for any signs of something amiss. You laid a hand on your chest in an attempt to dull the feeling, but it was already gone, as fast as it had come. Something had happened, here, at the base. But what the kriff did it mean?  

The feeling trickled through you again, and realization hit you like blaster fire straight to your gut. You were sprinting down the hallway without a second thought.  

Once you reached the meeting room you were headed for, you slammed your access card against the panel that opened the door and burst inside. 

“General—”

Leia’s back was to you as she stared down at a screen blinking with an influx of information. She turned toward you, not seeming at all surprised at your sudden presence or your informal dress as you approached her side.  

“It’s—it’s him, isn’t it?” You asked. You forced a light cough the second you acknowledged the implication of the familiarity in your question and quickly added “P—Commander Dameron, that is. I…I felt it.” 

“See for yourself." Leia gestured toward the screen she’d been staring down at when you’d entered. You quickly scanned the  message, certain words standing out in your mind more than others: Kylo Ren. First Order. Captured. Crash. BB-8. Return. 

Most importantly, he was on his way back to base at that very moment. 

“What do you need from me?” You asked the general, and a small smile crossed her face as she gave you instructions on preparing things for Poe’s return. The next few hours were some of the longest of your life, but eventually you received word that he was beginning to make his descent.  

You took off toward the hangar, as fast as your legs would carry you.  

The droning alarms which signaled an approaching aircraft became louder as you turned the corner, making the final stretch to the hangar. A few others lingering around for the evening had come to see the result of the commotion, and you hastily pushed past them with a muttered apology. When you arrived you saw that the general was already there waiting, along with a group of other pilots, officers, and others who had been around at the time the alarms sounded. 

The battered hunk of metal Poe had managed to procure touched the ground, and you felt as if your heart was going to burst straight out of your chest as you waited for the hatch to open. You anchored your feet when the commander himself emerged from the cockpit, dropping to the ground with slightly slumped shoulders, his exhaustion apparent in your eyes, but likely not to the others. When he slipped off his helmet, despite the disheveled hair and face covered in dirt and faint traces of blood, he looked like the same self-assured Commander Dameron that everyone had come to know.  

You kept walking, slowly, not wanting to make a scene of your approach. Poe was speaking to the general, his exterior stern but behind his eyes…frantic. Panicked. Things hadn’t gone as planned. Well, obviously, but there was more to the story. You knew you would find out later. Right now, all you cared about was him. 

He caught sight of you when you were still a few yards away. He had stopped speaking mid-sentence, had excused himself from the general, had waved away the medical droid that had rolled over to his side. His eyes locked onto yours as you walked towards him. 

He moved aside one of his officers and met you halfway.  

“y/l/n.” He used your last name in greeting, the same way you always did in front of others. His lips were just barely parted as he stared down at you, his eyes taking a quick moment to scan your face, the outfit you were wearing, then back to meet your own eyes. 

“Commander.” Your chest was trembling inside, your breath coming out in broken pants from running as you scanned over his bruised and bloodied face. “Wh—are you—“ 

The breath was sucked from your lungs when he suddenly pulled you in, your body thudding against his chest when he threw his arms around your frame, and you could practically feel the relief flooding his veins, and your own. His chin rested on your shoulder, and your own arms folded around him, your fingers digging into his flight suit, all of your senses taking in every part of him; Poe was here, he was okay, he was alive. 

“I—I felt you out there.” You admitted, keeping your words at a whisper both so others wouldn’t hear and because you were afraid your voice would crack if you were any louder. “I tried and tried to call out to you, to make sure you were okay—“ 

“I know,” he murmured, his thumbs rubbing small circles into your back. “I know." 

You stepped back, forcing him to lift his head. His hands drifted to wrap around your arms, just below your shoulders. You studied his face, and reached to trace your finger along the gash on his cheek.  

“Miss me, sweetheart?” he asked lowly, eyebrow cocked in amusement at the pure longing in your face as you stared up at him.  

Your gentle caress quickly turned into a light, playful tap against his cheek, your expression shifting into a playfully mocking smirk. 

“Not even in your wildest dreams, flyboy.” 

“Mm, and if I haven’t had some wild dreams about you…” He leaned into your palm that somehow hadn’t separated from his cheek, his rough lips ever so gently pressing against the spot between your thumb and index finger. You felt a chill run down your spine, and this time it wasn’t the Force talking. Oh, stars. He’d been back all of five minutes and was already driving you mad. 

You quickly shook yourself out of it and dropped your arm back to your side. “Poe, you need rest.” You sniffled, crinkling your nose for effect. “And a shower.” 

Poe chuckled. “Alright, alright. But don’t think this is over.”  

“I could never imagine you giving up so easily.”  

The two of you began to walk towards the door that would eventually lead to Poe’s quarters when you saw the general from the corner of your eye, bringing you to a screeching halt. 

She looked at you from across the way with knowing eyes. Of course she knew; you should have realized by now that you couldn’t keep it a secret from her. You’d given it away the second you’d burst into the communications room that evening, the connection that you had with him. 

You weren’t sure how to respond, if you should walk over to her, or simply continue on and prepare for the reprimand of your life later. You quickly glanced back at Poe, who was still, tiredly, approaching the opposite side of the hangar. 

When your eyes met Leia’s again, her expression had softened. With her arms crossed in front of her, she jerked her head in Poe’s direction, the faintest smile crossing her face.  

Go. You could almost hear her say it. You followed her command, jogging to catch back up with Poe, who had noticed your absence at his side.  

“What was that about?” he asked, looking over your head to where the general had been standing, but she had already disappeared. He looked back to you. “Are you guys doing some kind of weird Force-stuff now? You gossiping about me or something?”  

“Oh, please,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. Poe only let out a low chuckle in reply.  

Once you’d gone back inside and turned the corner, his fingers were intertwined with yours until you reached his quarters and you were promptly led over to his bed. He hovered over you, his kiss deep and slow and heavy with need, his hands braced on either side of you. 

When your lips parted, he stared down at you with eyes full of devotion. “I missed you so much.” A kiss to your nose, your forehead. "I will always come back to you, y/n. I swear it.”

You stared back up at him, your breaths already shallow. You managed to let out a contented sigh just before he pressed his forehead against yours. 

“And I’ll always be with you,” you promised, your eyelids nearly fluttering shut at the pure ecstasy of being near him again. Of knowing that the man you were now certain you loved had returned to you. That no matter what, the Force would keep you bound together. While the end of this war wouldn’t come easily, you would do whatever it took to ensure a future with Poe by your side. 

[fmdsooaharchive]

similarly to what i said on jiah’s post, i will be posting every meme response in this post because i would like to spare you all from my spamming. let me know if you need more numbers. there are mentions of other fuse members.

“As a group, I loved when we released Russian Roulette. It’s a song that not many people remember if compared to our newest songs, but I truly liked that song. And as for the songs I released by myself, even though I don’t have that many out, I like I’m Your Girl a lot. Mainly because it was the first song that I’ve managed to release out of Fuse, and that made me very happy.”

“Fuse has many good side-tracks. If I were to choose my favorite though, I would go with Kingdom Come, no doubt. It still is one of Fuse’s best songs, in my opinion, and the way it sounds it’s just amazing. I think that the members’ voices fitted the aesthetic of it so well, Suji unnie and Kiana unnie and Minjung unnie did an amazing job.”

“I don’t like performing Rookie much. It’s just hard to sing and dance to it at the same time since it has a very fast and complicated choreography. It has a very catch chorus and I had it stuck in my head for months, too. Maybe, with all of that accumulating, my dislike for it may have become clearer.”

“There are many people I would love to work with, but I don’t think our styles and voices would fit all that well. If I could make it work though, I think I would like to do a duet with Jeonghwa or Alice from Lucid. Or Yujin from Element. I’ve worked with some of them in past projects, and the synergy is good, and I think we could come up with something interesting to fans.”

“I love Fuse’s concept! It’s funny that I like exactly the thing that we’re criticized for that is the change of concepts and inconsistency as some would put, in our sound. I think that because Fuse is so versatile and always changing the style of the songs that we put out, makes it more fun, at least to me. Every comeback is a little surprise.”

“It would be very unfortunate if Gold Star changed the direction they had for Fuse and started making us release sexier songs in BEE’s style or Gal.actic’s. I don’t think I would be comfortable making that type of music and selling it the way the companies do. I don't think it fits my image either, and fans would be left disappointed by the sudden and extreme shift. Fuse is very versatile, but I don't think that kind of concept would sit very well."

“It feels a little unfair to bring this up because it’s Fuse’s first time going this long without talks of a future comeback. Fuse’s last comeback was last August, so it has been six months since our last album release, and there are no talks at this moment that I know of, of a possible comeback. Maybe because I started in the group at such a young age, I got used to it and the constant schedules, so I miss that a little. I wish we could have a better understanding of what’s to come.”

“WISH releases very good songs, as well as Femme Fatale, so I would love to perform their songs as well. Their styles please me a lot, and I think I could fit in with their image if given the chance. WISH’s more girlish style and Femme Fatale’s girl-crush agree on a lot with the type of songs I like listening to. Maybe in the future I can have the chance to do a cover of their songs at least.”

“That’s a tough question. Compared to our CEO, I’m not even as experienced as he is, and I don’t think that I’m qualified enough to say anything to him. Can I ask him a question instead? Why did they recruit me in the first place when I had no skills, and why did they make me debut when I was lacking if compared to the other trainees? It’s something that always bugged me, and maybe our CEO has the answers I’m looking for.”

“I was extremely unprepared for my audition on the day that it happened. I had nothing prepared, and I just used one of the songs I have learned in my music class. Now, I would like to be more prepared and show a little more seriousness in my intention to become a trainee. I treated that opportunity as if it was nothing back in the day and was sort of forced into it by my friend and the judges who were working at the auditions. I would work on a nice acoustic song to present to them if my audition happened now.”

“Because I’m the youngest in my team, we could gather all the maknaes of all groups, or only from girl groups, and performed a song, everyone together. We could go back to first-generation songs or maybe a song that is originally from a soloist and make a special performance out of it. I think it would be cool to see all of us together and collaborating since we don’t have that opportunity as often. It would be interesting to see our different styles of work merging.”

“Recently, I’ve appeared in a few varieties shows, and I enjoy doing them quite a lot. If I’m honest, I would love to have the chance of appearing in more of those and make FUSE and myself known a little bit more through my appearances on TV. Quite ambitious, I know, and a little bit out of my league since most people expect me to branch out to modeling, but as of right now, I’m very interested in that. It's a good chance for me to get out of my comfort zone and work on things that I usually wouldn't do, too, so there are only positives.”

“It sounds silly, but I would love being the ambassador for a food brand. Any food brand and any product. I’m the ambassador for Ghana Chocolate, and that alone was already very fun, and I love chocolate as well, so if in the future I can work with a brand like that, I would be really satisfied. Maybe for Banana Milk, or yogurt. Oh! Or fried chicken!”

“Amazing Saturday. That is a show that I like watching, and Hyeju sunbaenim was part of the cast for a little while, and I think that show is just very entertaining and fun. Running Man is also a show that I still want to appear on, too, because it has been airing for so long, and even though I’m not the most athletic person, I would still think it’s a good show to make an appearance. Maybe in the future.”

“Oh, absolutely not. I’m not qualified for a job like that, and I wouldn’t want to take that much responsibility under my arms. I think it’s easy for us to complain, but giving the shots and making the decisions is way harder than most of us can even comprehend. So, no, if I was offered that position, I would have to decline.”

“I was given no choice in the matter, and I had to become the CEO of my company, I would like to give my artists more creative space and support. I have quite a bit of that now. I’ve released songs that I wrote and produced for other artists as well, but it’s something that I only started doing recently. Even though composing and writing were things I wanted to do a while ago, I wasn’t given the opportunity and I'd like to offer that support.”

“I talk to my family to relieve stress. I have two older brothers, and they are very supportive of me, and they listen to me if they notice something is amiss. They just have this way of making me feel better by either being very understanding or annoying until I forget what I was stressed about. They make me watch or play scary games too. They say that screaming relieves the stress, but I have the impression my middle brother is just messing with me.”

“Be proud of yourself. Even if you think you’re lacking, you worked very hard to get to where you are right now. You have a lot of room for improvement, and debuting is not supposed to be your stagnation point. Just keep in mind that you don’t have to be excellent or at your best. You can give little steps to reach other goals.”

“Thinking that I wasn’t enough compared to the other trainees. I was indeed lacking if compared to them, but I used to think that I would never be as good as them and wouldn’t get any improvement because I would always be behind them. There were a lot of self-doubts, and I didn’t think I was enough. That might be the hardest part of being a trainee.”

“As a debuted idol. I learned a lot after my debut, and I started trusting and believing in myself more, too. I can work with members who give me a lot of support, and I truly enjoy the schedules we have, either when we’re together or when we got separated in our solo schedules. I feel like I have a lot more freedom too, which gives me the chance to get to know more people and make more friends in the industry.”

“Very tough choice to make, but I would love to release anything by Lucid. Lucid is one of my favorite groups, and I love their discography, especially their darker, more rock-based songs. Chase Me is the first one that comes to mind right now, so maybe I could release their debut album Nightmare. I think that would be super fun.”

“Minjung unnie is the first one that comes to mind when we talk about a possible sub-unit. I’m close to her, and we worked together before too in her solo songs, so I know we’re a good match, and we could have great synergy if that ever happened. Minjung unnie is a great singer so we could have a duet and I can rap for her. About the concept, maybe something more different from what we usually release with Fuse would be interesting.”

“We have exceptional songwriters and composers in our group. Suji unnie and Minjung unnie are here to prove that. They do an amazing job at that, so if I could, I would want to work on the production side of things. Again, I’ve done this before, and I like doing it as well. Just like writing and composing, I think that producing also leaves a bit of your touch in the song so I would love that.”

“Dimensions has two of my favorite groups, Lucid and 7rophy, so I would like to be signed under them and see how this thing would go. I know that Dimensions is rising in popularity these days as well, which is great for them. I also like how they make groups so distinguishable from each other, so that might be interesting. There's also the fact that I know quite a few artists from Dimensions, so I think I wouldn't feel left out.”

“The lack of time that we have to do other things that aren’t schedule related. I’m not very active but even doing simple things like go shopping is a shore that we can’t do that often or at least properly. The lack of privacy is also something that bothers me a bit. I can’t get around without people taking pictures and things like that, and I’m not always at my best.”

“I love that we get to experience this. I love that I can travel around the world to perform in front of people and hear them singing back, which might as well be one of my favorite things in the world. I love that because of this I met amazing people who became my friends. And also, I can make a living of a thing that makes me immensely happy.”

“Being less popular has its perks as well, so I would like to be fairly unknown, but have a good reputation. I don’t want to be the kind of idol who has a bad reputation, only to have the attention of the public. Any publicity is good publicity isn’t a motto that I want for myself or my career. And by being less popular, maybe I would want to work extra hard to make things work out, so my motivation would be different?”

“I think that every time we have a concert, I feel the proudest. It’s my favorite moment of being a singer, to be honest. We practice for so long, and we work very hard to give our best performances when the day comes. After we finish it, I feel slightly sad and empty that it’s already over, but I always think we look at our best when we perform on stage.”

“I learned that I’m more capable than I could ever imagine, and I shouldn’t limit myself because I have the capacity of learning and doing things nicely. I learned that society can be cruel as well if you don’t reach their expectations which just makes me sad, too. Even when the person they criticize is young, they don’t seem to have empathy enough to not be maliciously mean. They are brave, at least online.”

“I would like if they realized that we’re just humans the same as them. We’re not superheroes who can do everything, and despite being taught how to do most things because our companies want to sell that image of their idols, we are capable of just as much as anyone else. Don’t be judgmental as well? Or jealous? It’s not good for netizens who like being bitter about some people debuting.”

thank you to @jihoonfmd, @suweixfmd, @fmdkiana, @fmdinyeong, @fmdyiyeon, @fmdminjung and @jihanfmd for sending me some numbers!

[adrenalineguide]

Jeep Wrangler Sport S and Mustang 2.3L Convertible: Two Fours for Summer Fun

Words and Photos By Michael Hozjan

No I’m not talking about cases of beer. I’m referring to the number of cylinders found under the hood of two American icons in the automotive landscape – the Jeep Wrangler and Mustang. Don’t scoff, four cylinders have been making a huge come back in recent years and no, these are not your grand dad’s four cylinders. Both the Jeep and the Mustang rely on turbocharging to get the extra oomph when needed all while delivering below average thirst numbers compared to their V6 and V8 counterparts. Let’s face it do we really need all that horsepower all the time and isn’t it nice to save some bucks at the pump.

Jeep Wrangler Sport: Back to its roots

“There’s something amiss here.” I tell myself as the engine comes to life. I hit the off button and check for the glow plug light, there isn’t one. For some reason the engine doesn’t sound the same, and yet there’s something eerily familiar about the sound.  I mistakenly expected the Wrangler to be diesel powered, which it was not. The diesel mill is offered in the Gladiator that I was due to drive, but at a later date. Blame it on old age or just on my eagerness to get behind the wheel of one of my favorite rides.    

Well one thing lead to another and another and before I knew it, it was several days later that I popped the hood to gaze upon the turbocharged inline 2.0L four cylinder. THAT’S what the sound was… somehow, the engineers at Jeep have managed to get the sound of the old familiar World War II era four cylinder Jeep into this modern, 80th anniversary edition Wrangler…or maybe it’s just me. One thing is certain, it doesn’t sound like the Wrangler I’ve been accustomed to.

Maybe it’s just coincidence, maybe it’s good corporate planning, with Jeep’s closest off-road capable rival, the Ford Bronco making its debut this year, Jeep has stepped up the ante, not only have they launched the Wrangler Xtreme Recon equipped with the first ever 35-inch rubber straight out of the factory, but are also offering a slew of powerplants to make any competitor nervous: beginning with this week’s tester, there’s the 2.0 L turbocharged four cylinder mated to the 8-speed TorqueFlite automatic, the trusty old 285 horsepower Pentastar 3.6L V6s remain and come with either a manual or automatic trans, there’s also a mild hybrid version mated to the 3.6L tagged the eTorque, a 3.0L EcoDiesel V6 with 442 lb-ft of torque and 260 horses and for the first time in four decades, the Wrangler gets a V8. Available exclusively (dare I say for the time being) in the Rubicon 392 trim, the 6.4L throws out 470 horses and the like amount of torque through the eight-speed TorqueFlite automatic transmission and Selec-Trac full-time active transfer case.  It blasts the Rubicon 392 to 100 km/h in less than five seconds making it the quickest Wrangler in history!

Well it appears the Jeep has come full circle with their mills, reverting back to four cylinder power to move their off roaders about. But don’t think for a minute that these are the old WWII flatheads. No sir, and not one but two count them, two four cylinders are offered. Aside from my Snazzyberry Pearl colored 2.0L turbocharged tester which pumps out 270 horses and 295 lb-ft of torque, capable of towing 2,000 lbs (907 kilos), that’s 35 more lb-ft of torque than its V6 counterpart, there’s also an electrified four cylinder that adds an electric motor. The plug in hybrid 4xe delivers 375 horses!  Stay tuned for more on this one.

Above and below: There’s nothing missing in the four that you wouldn’t find in the six.

If you’re a regular reader of my posts you’ll know that I do NOT check performance numbers or price tags before I get a feel for what the vehicle feels like. Does it feel like 300 horses, does it feel like 400 lb-ft of torque? I tend to reserve looking at the stats until after my first, second and third impression. That said, despite having 270 horses, it still seemed a bit anemic from my previous Wrangler encounters (with the V6). There’s a noticeable difference at half throttle when leaving a red light or stop sign, but that quickly disappears as you build up speed. Punch the go pedal however to wake up the turbo boost and grab on to the steering wheel. The torque kicks in and bites the tarmac like a banshee. Suddenly Jeeps decision to go with this combo makes perfect sense.

On the highway the four delivers smooth, linear power and actually feels better mated to the 8-speed automatic than the six. Passing semis or climbing grades isn’t a problem and while I didn’t get the chance to go off-roading I suspect that the added torque would be able to let this Wrangler do some serious climbing prowess without hesitation.

Of course one of the other main attributes is that the Wrangler can shed its top when the weather turns warm. With two tops available it still remains the only convertible SUV in the market.

Above: A hidden cubby hole under the trunk floor comes in handy

One of the Wrangler’s Achilles’ heals has always been it’s thirst for fuel. My best has usually been around 12L/100 kms even when feathering my foot. Well the 2.0L netted me a 9.75L/100 average, on top of which a $200 saving over the automatic trannied V6 makes getting into a Wrangler a lot easier. The Sport S starts at $45,465, my fully loaded tester came in at a substantial premium, which leads me to want to see this mill in the 2-door Wrangler variant with a manual transmission. Now that would truly be full circle. If you’ve always wanted a Wrangler but weren’t crazy about their fuel consumption Jeep has just given you several reasons why you should reconsider.

Price as tested: $62,030 *

*Includes excise tax and destination fees

Mustang 2.3L Convertible: Is this the best Mustang ever?

It’s a balmy July afternoon, the kind we wait all year long for and fantasize about from December through to March. I’m in the left lane of the 401 heading west, passing semi after semi. The sun is beaming down on me and I get to thinking how nice this thing would be for a cross-country run. Indeed it doesn’t get much better than this. There are so many semis it reminds me of the rocking chair scene in The Bandit, only I’m not driving a T-top black Firebird with a roaring V8 and Sheriff Buford T Justice chasing me, but a drop top Antimatter Blue (yes that’s the hue) Mustang with a turbocharged 2.3L four cylinder.  

For decades Ford has been grappling with the notion of having both a high performance Mustang and an economy Mustang, and yes when it first debuted there were trims that encompassed both. But over the years that concept got lost with muscle cars taking the limelight. It wasn’t until the gas crisis of ’73 that the economy car resurrected itself in the Mustang II, but in the process lost the muscle slice of the pie.

Well guess what, the 2.3L fits both bills easily. Yes diehard muscle heads may pooh pooh the thought of another four cylinder in a Mustang but they have no idea what they’re missing out on.

Pillaged from the darling all-wheel-drive Ford, the Focus RS, the 2.3L mill has been turned longitudinally to fit into the pony car. Although Ford has given the Mustang a larger twin scroll turbo, there are 18 fewer horses pulling the pony car over the RS. Torque however has been retained.  

With 310 horses and 350 lb-ft of torque on tap mated to an optional 10-speed automatic my tester galloped along without so much as missing a breadth. Thankfully Ford has retained the 6-speed manual. My unofficial timing showed zero to a hundred kilometers shot in at 4.6 seconds!  I have to say that as sweet as the four cylinder is, the exhaust note just tries to hard and gets annoying after a while.  It’s like look at me, look at me. Oh shut up! Thankfully there is a shut off switch.

My ‘stang came with the High Performance Package, a $6,500 option inherited from the Mustang GT, which meant stickier 19” Pirelli rubber over the base car’s 17” units, larger brake rotors with four piston calipers, stiffer springs, a beefier rear sway bar, strut tower brace, a larger rad, a 3.55:1 limited slip diff. In other words, all the right stuff to make this a serious tourer.    

Above and below: Top up or top down the Mustang looks great. Front spoiler is part of the High  Performance Package.

Another plus for the four-cylinder argument is better balanced shedding 147kilos (auto trans) off its front axle. The result is a crisper handling ride with a nominal amount of body roll, less nosedive under hard braking. Switching driving modes from Normal to Sport mode for attacking the lakeside twisties shows the car’s true potential with the engine’s responsiveness hitting the sweet spot over 2,500 rpm and the fun factor sans V8.  

This would make an interesting track car.

Inside you get all the usual fan fare of goodies including cooling and heated power leather seats.  The hi-po package adds an oil pressure and turbo boost gauge and engine spun aluminum instrument panel. Fit and finish is spot on with comfortable buckets making the drive that much more enjoyable.

Above: Despite what it looks like my 6’ frame spent several hours back there in a friend’s convert for a three-hour trip to the Syracuse Nationals a few years back without a single complaint.

Like the Jeep the Mustang doesn’t come cheap. While the base price is a very reasonable $43,370, my tester’s option list added another $11,800 to the price tag. Stepping up to the $6,500 high performance package is a no brainer, especially if you’re a serious driver, but while the 10-speed is perfectly matched to the engine and responds wonderfully to throttle inputs I’d go with the 6-speed manual and trim $1,750 off the tag. Other options included $1,000 AM/FM/CD/HD radio, $2,300 for adaptive cruise, voice activated touch screen navigation and the Ford Safe & Smart package.

In a move I just don’t understand is the spare tire/wheel has been relegated to option status! In its place is a compressor - just the ticket for a bent rim, blow out or flat in the middle of nowhere on a dark rainy night. Come on Ford!

Yes the Mustang buyer has a number of trims and powerplants to opt for all the way to the 100 grand Shelby GT500 but really, wouldn’t you rather have a car that hits all the right fun buttons without breaking the bank while still passing a gas station or two ( I averaged 10.7L/100 km). Oh and let’s not forget the savings on the insurance premium on the four cylinder So shrug the V8 monkey off your back and hit the road in a four.

Price as tested:  $56,970*

*Includes destination charges

[ikevampeventarchive]

[ERS] Urgent Bloodsucking ～ Arthur

Duration: 11/8 (Fri) 04:00 PM ～ 11/15 (Fri) 09:00 PM

Acting like nothing is amiss, Arthur attempts to weather out his thirst alone. You, having caught onto his actions, run to him.... 

Once unleashed, drown in the endless depths of sweet desire  ——

Event Prologue | Route Preview

[This is an unofficial work based on fan-translation. Copyright belongs to Cybird.]

Common Route

Arthur, Isaac and Vincent all set their glasses down, and MC watches on anxiously. Arthur suddenly rises from his seat and comes over to her, gripping her arm with a serious face and saying that he really wants to suck her blood. Over at the table, Isaac calls him out on the bluff, to which Arthur grins at being caught. Isaac then checks on Vincent, who reports that nothing is wrong. Sebastian is relieved that nothing seems to have happened, and while Vincent was a bit disappointed due to wanting to know Isaac’s thirst, he also agrees that it’s for the best. 

Just as everyone is calming down, loud sounds of glass shattering ring out from the kitchen, and Sebastian turns to run as fast as he can towards it. Arthur’s face darkens seemingly having guessed what was happening. Following on his coattails, everyone arrives in the kitchen to see shattered glass all over the floor, liquids splattered all over the place, and at the center of it all — sitting on the counter and staring at everyone with a confused look — Arthur’s King Charles Cavalier, Vic. 

MC recalls that earlier when the Rosé was accidentally served, she and Sebastian were going through their stock of Rouge and Blanc. Arthur quickly scoops Vic up into his arms, and Sebastian regretfully informs everyone that the contents on the floor are what remains of their last bottles of Rouge and Blanc. Isaac and MC share a look.

Isaac: Say the side effects were to kick in. Wouldn’t you be in a dangerous situation right now? 

Sebastian: I am also in the same boat. 

Arthur: Nope. You can’t be thinking that I’d actually drink a man’s blood. 

Sebastian: How regrettable…. Of course, I merely jest. 

(A joke, huh? Sebastian seemed more likely to instead gleefully note down the details in event of being bitten, but I decided to keep that to myself.)

Sebastian then declares that he will go buy more Rouge and Blanc, forecasting that he will return at nightfall at the latest. However, before he leaves, Sebastian also warns that the side effects of the Rosé differs from person to person, and that delayed effects are not out of the realm of possibility. Arthur then asks if the chances of such side effects are high, to which Sebastian qualifies by saying that while possible, it is true that the chances are low. Vincent is relieved and says that they would not have to worry much then, while Isaac expresses his hopes for the sleeping dogs to just keep on sleeping. 

After helping Sebastian clean up the kitchen and seeing him off, MC walks out into the hallway and runs into Arthur. He says that he’s heading towards the library to do some research. MC, thinking that she could at least do something to help in event of the side effects kicking in, asks Arthur if she could come along to help. 

Arthur draws close to MC, and asks if she’s worried about the side effects of the Rosé. MC answers that she’s worried about Arthur being in pain due to the overwhelming thirst, since it must be extremely painful for a vampire. Arthur smiles and says that she truly is a kind person, though he thinks that she should worry for herself first instead of him. In the end, Arthur lets MC come along, saying that in the event of the side effects kicking in, he has a good contingency plan in place. He ends the conversation by saying that he doesn’t have any intentions of biting MC anyways, and the two of them hold hands on the way to the library.

Once there, Arthur produces a list of books he needs as reference, and MC sets to finding them. When she returns, Arthur is seated at a desk, wearing his glasses and writing with a fountain pen. She watches him for a few moments, thinking to herself that he looks different from his usual lighthearted self, and very handsome as he focuses. Arthur notices her staring, and teasingly asks her as such. 

Arthur: What are you looking at? 

MC: N — nothing in particular. 

Arthur: Now, that can’t be just nothing, staring at a person like that. 

Arthur then stands up and comes over to MC, and her heartbeat races at their proximity. 

Arthur: C’mon, be honest. Were you perhaps, captivated by me? 

MC: ...Maybe a little. 

Arthur: Mhm, good girl. 

They continue to banter for a bit, and just as they lean in for a kiss, Arthur suddenly releases MC’s body, head hanging low as he released pained breaths. MC realizes that it could be the side effects of the Rosé at play, and frantically asks Arthur if he’s okay. At that moment, her body is once again grabbed, and MC feels hot breaths against her neck. It turns out that Arthur was merely playing a joke, and MC scolds him for making her worry. 

Arthur then removes his glasses and retrieves his book list, saying that since his research has made good progress, he’s going to go into town for a bit. MC says that she’ll come along, since she also has a few things she wants to buy. However, Arthur firmly rejects this, clarifying that it’s a bit of important business for him, and he wants to settle it on his own. He asks MC to wait at the mansion for him, and turns to leave. MC feels like something is off, and calls after him, but then changes her mind when she sees that he’s acting just as usual. She wishes him safe journeys, and watches his back as he leaves, uneasy all the while. 

Switching to Arthur POV, the scene begins with him hurrying through the forest, trying to get far away from MC. It turns out that the side effects of the Rosé really did kick in, and he was just pretending to be fine. Deep in the forest, he comes across an abandoned shack and locks himself inside, falling against the furthest wall from the entrance. He thinks to himself about how a vampire’s bloodlust is proportional to their romantic feelings, knowing that if he were to bite MC in the throes of the Rosé-induced thirst, he would end up draining all of her blood. Sitting in the shack, he prepares himself to wait out the pain, narrating that before, he wouldn’t hesitate to find a woman in town and drink from her, but now even that option isn’t possible because he doesn’t want to betray MC. 

Arthur: When I think of her… I can’t do such a thing. — It seems like I really do love her. 

Thus, he bears the pain, thinking of MC all the while. 

Back at the mansion, MC paces the length of the library, thinking of Arthur’s reaction. At that moment, Isaac comes in, and she decides to ask him about the effect of the thirst he feels. Isaac quickly catches onto the situation, and begins explaining. He says that in the throes of the thirst, a vampire will quickly lose their reason; each second withstood, the pain grows. He also doubts Arthur’s ability to keep a straight face in front of such pain, but if MC thought something was off, then she’s most likely correct, as she is the one that knows Arthur the best. Hearing this, MC realizes that Arthur is somewhere out there, suffering on his own, and runs out of the mansion to search for him. 

Leaving the mansion, she turns to the woods. After wandering through the immediate surrounding area, MC spots a bright glimmer in the ground. It turns out to be Arthur’s fountain pen, and she discovers a small trail nearby that leads to the abandoned shack from earlier. MC knocks on the door and pleads to Arthur to let her in, saying that she knew Arthur would be suffering by himself when he asks why she’s here when he said he’d be in town. In the end, she tells Arthur that he can bite her if he wants, and Arthur opens the door, scolding her for running after him. 

—

Sweet (Love’s Devotion) End

The thing he truly wants, even more than blood....

“Your everything, won’t you give it all to me?”

Wholeheartedly drown in this sweet and gentle time for just the two of you —

—

Arthur steps out of the abandoned shack, saying that if MC chased him all the way here, then that must mean she’s prepared herself for what comes next.

Arthur: Won’t you give all of yourself to me?

MC suddenly realizes that Arthur’s snapped out of it and is no longer feeling the side effects, to which Arthur grins at being caught just like earlier. MC sighs with relief and remembers that the effects were only supposed to last for about an hour, and tells Arthur that she’s glad he’s okay. Arthur replies likewise, though qualifying that by saying that he was still feeling the last remainders of the thirst by the time she came, and it was still a dangerous situation that they got through by the skin of their teeth. 

MC says that she heard from Isaac about the pain, and wanted to help Arthur anyway she could. Hearing that, Arthur could no longer be mad. She then asks Arthur if the thirst was painful, feeling like in the end, she couldn’t do anything for him. Arthur answers that it did, but compared to keeping her safe and unharmed, it was nothing. MC is touched by his kindness, and Arthur asks for a kiss as a reward for overcoming his ordeal. MC complies, and gives him a light kiss.

When they pull away, Arthur is disappointed at such a small reward, and asks if that’s it. MC is embarrassed and says that they need to return to the mansion since she ran out after hearing what Isaac had to say. As for the rest of Arthur’s reward, they’ll continue afterwards. Arthur then expresses his surprise at how MC was able to find the abandoned shack in the first place, and MC returns the fountain pen that Arthur dropped earlier. Then, they hold hands on the way back to the mansion. 

As they approach, they find Isaac waiting at the entrance.

Isaac: …! The two of you made it back. 

Arthur teases Isaac about being worried for them, to which Isaac retorts that he was just worried for MC, not for Arthur. He then asks about the side effects of the Rosé, and Arthur replies that leaving the mansion was the only way he could think of not to hurt MC, and that he didn’t bite any woman in town either. Isaac then haltingly admits that Arthur was a better guy than he thought. 

Arthur: Huh…?

Arthur: … MC, did you hear that just now? That might’ve been the first time Newt ever said something affectionate towards me. Is there a gramophone at this mansion? Won’t you say that again for me? 

Isaac: One, I didn’t say anything affectionate, and two, don’t try to record me! 

Watching them bicker, MC laughs and wonders whether they’re on bad terms or are actually good friends. Arthur then says that Isaac is tougher than he thought, dealing with the sort of thirst on a regular basis. Isaac then brushes it off, saying that he doesn’t want to be praised by Arthur, though MC notes that he did get a bit flustered. 

Arthur: Then, I’ll take my leave. 

Isaac: Since the two of you are safe and sound, I have nothing else to chat about. 

Arthur: So you really were worried for us!

Isaac: Shut it. 

Isaac leaves and MC and Arthur watch him go. MC notes that Arthur really is fond of Isaac, to which Arthur says that he’s much more fond of MC, cupping her cheeks and kissing her. He hints at the continuation MC spoke of earlier, and MC says that they’ll get to it, but first bade Arthur to speak to Sebastian about the Rosé first. 

As the scene ends, MC thinks about how Arthur is alway so teasing, yet still treasures her a lot; feeling vexed that Arthur ended up getting hurt for her this time. Then, she follows him into the mansion. 

—

Premium (Instinctual Bloodsucking) End

Ensnared by desire, he yearns for blood....

“...Sorry. I’ll probably be rough with you.” 

Vampire instincts steal away both your heart and body ——

—

Arthur grips MC’s wrist, pulling her into the abandoned shack and asks her why she’s here. MC tells him what she heard from Isaac, and once again offers Arthur her blood. Arthur sighs and gently admonishes her before gripping MC’s wrist roughly and giving her a bruising kiss. When she flinches from pain, he pulls away and tells her that she should run now, because he can’t restrain himself in this state. 

MC realizes that Arthur is once again trying to scare her off for her own sake, and replies that she won’t back off — that if she thinks he’s taking too much blood, then she’ll throw him down and run away. This surprises Arthur, and he gives in.

Arthur: …. Sorry, this might be a bit painful. 

Arthur bites MC and drinks deeply. Just as she starts feeling lightheaded, Arthur breaks away with a start, and they confirm that the thirst has waned. Arthur proceeds right back to scolding MC, worried for her recklessness and that he could’ve done something to hurt her in that state. He then asks MC if she’s OK, and apologizes for letting MC see such a bad side of him. MC confirms that she’s fine, and assures Arthur that he didn’t do anything bad, even going so far as to endure the thirst for her and hide away in this shack. Moved, Arthur once again hugs her close, pressing kisses all over MC’s ear and neck.

Arthur: … I love you. 

MC enjoys the ministrations, but then pushes Arthur away, saying that it tickles. Arthur continues to trace her body above her clothes for a few more moments, but soon puts them back in order and extends a hand to help MC up. She realizes that he was just teasing and sighs, exasperated that Arthur is back to his usual self as soon as the symptoms pass. However, both of them are relieved that Arthur is back to his normal self. Thus, they return to the mansion. 

After returning to the mansion and giving a worried Isaac a simple explanation, the two of them head to their rooms. Halfway there, Arthur suddenly stops, saying that perhaps they shouldn’t sleep together tonight after all. MC asks if there’s something wrong, and Arthur replies that there isn’t anything wrong, per se, but the lingering effects of the Rosé makes him feel like he won’t be able to hold back, and instead embrace her with his full strength. MC assents, thinking to herself that sometimes she wants to discard common sense as well. 

Arthur: If you’re giving me permission with such a face, you won’t be able to reverse it, you know. 

Arthur: … Don’t go back on what you said just now. 

Note: This is where the paid epilogue starts. 

—

Epilogue Preview

Reaching its limits, his desire yearns for you to the point of madness....

Exchanging kisses, entwining tongues; faint wet noises echo through the quiet room. 

Arthur: ....I’m sorry. Really, I have no control right now. 

Arthur’s hot tongue trace across the bite marks he made at the cabin—

Slowly, he presses his fangs against that same spot. 

Arthur: Come, give me more. I haven’t loved you enough. 

Flirtatious desire, melting thoughts. 

Captive to instinctual desires, the two of you drown in a wave of pleasure ——

Event Info | Vincent Route | Isaac Route

[greyias]

FIC: The Waiting Game

Title: The Waiting Game Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight Rating: T Genre: Angsty angst angst Synopsis: The worst part about all of this was the waiting. Theron hated standing on the sidelines as everyone else risked their lives. He needed something to do. Anything to keep him distracted from his own thoughts. Spoilers: So many spoilers. For the end of Onslaught and its epilogue, for 6.1/“The Task at Hand” and for the upcoming storyline in 6.2. Warnings: Considering what’s going on in the world right now, I’m tagging this as “Covid19 related”, as parts of this may be uncomfortably familiar with the current state of events. There’s also a lot about Theron and his very fraught and complicated relationship with Satele in this. So if you’re not a fan of her, or you just think she’s the worst, you should probably skip this. Because I love her and their very complicated dynamic.

Crossposted to AO3

The crash was loud enough to hear from the senior staff meeting room.

It pulled Theron from the datapad he’d gotten lost in, and had him poking his head out the door into the hallway. He managed to just catch sight of Scourge’s dark armor disappearing around the corner as the Sith stormed off. Not that Theron hadn’t gotten used to Sith temper tantrums since coming to live on Odessen, but it still was enough to pique his curiosity.

Stepping out further into the hallway, he could just make out both Kira and his wife talking solemnly at the door that Scourge had stalked away from. Whatever the conversation was, both Jedi were clearly concerned. Grey gave the little astromech at her side an affectionate pat on the head, before she looked up, squinting down the hall until she caught sight of him. They were all far enough away where Theron couldn’t see their expressions clearly or even eavesdrop on what they were talking about, but the tense postures let him know that something was amiss.

As he walked up, he could see the remains of the crates that had splintered upon impact with the wall, and the rows of cracked monitors ringing the room. He quirked an eyebrow as he looked back at both Jedi. “You guys felt like redecorating? Not sure that ‘Warzone Nouveau’ is going to catch on as an aesthetic.”

Kira shot him a look, but he couldn’t quite decipher what it meant. Maybe she didn’t find his joke funny. Of course, he’d gotten that look a lot. Things had been a little awkward since she and Scourge formally joined the Alliance, but Theron hadn’t been able to figure out if they were just having a difficult time adjusting or if something else was going on.

He was saved from pondering on that further by his wife gently laying her hand on his arm. “Let’s take a walk.”

A familiar feeling of dread settled in his gut, and he swallowed before fixing a smile in place. Even if he had a feeling what this was about, he could pretend for a few moments more. They were quiet as they made their way to the elevator, and were about halfway down when he finally decided to break the silence.

“So, are we walking to any particular place?”

“I thought a stroll in the woods might be nice.”

“Are we going on an adventure?” His humor was a little forced, but he was trying for normalcy here. It’d been a while since they had that. About as long as since Kira and Scourge arrived on Odessen.

“Not the same type of adventure as the last time,” she said, a lilt of amusement tinging her voice.

“Pity.” Even if they were alone in the elevator, his voice was just a murmur as he leaned in closer.

He wasn’t really planning on doing anything inappropriate, was just angling on getting a reaction out of her, but the lift’s doors opened up onto the crowded walkway before he could push it any further. He let out a frustrated sigh and straightened up before anyone saw and got any ideas. The last thing he needed was to start rumors about improprieties in the lifts. Not that he really cared about the rumors about himself, but he’d already caused Grey enough trouble with his undercover stint. He didn’t need to give people more reasons to whisper about them.

Even if they were married.

They ambled on out, towards the cantina. He was trying to act casual, normal even, but Grey hadn’t said anything about what that conversation with Kira was about. Or why Scourge felt the need to redecorate the room quite so violently. But Theron had an idea anyway. Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face, because her hand found his and intertwined their fingers together.

When Theron had gone undercover, Grey had still been wearing the armor from her time before her carbonite sleep. Sometimes he’d wondered if she had worn the giant pauldrons, embroidered cape, and heavy gauntlets as some sort of armor against all the change in her life. But since his return, she’d adopted a new outfit. A much simpler garb, a deep blue tunic that was very Jedi in fashion. As silly as it sounded, it felt like some sort of evolution — like she was somehow more comfortable in her skin and her role in a way that she hadn’t been before. 

He liked it though, from the way the color of blue set off her eyes, to how the long trailing scarves on the tunic liked to pick up the wind when they stepped outside. The change from the heavy gauntlets to fingerless gloves was also a benefit, and especially nice in moments like these, as he was able to feel the warmth of her fingertips against his.

Of course, he’d also changed things up a little too. The long gray overcoat had long been discarded — the charred hole in the back where he’d been stabbed wasn’t a keepsake he wanted to hold onto. While he hadn’t abandoned his old style completely—his old, faithful red and black jacket was definitely still around—Theron had felt the need to integrate a little bit more variety into his style. Like the lighter coat he was wearing now, with a set of fingerless gloves of his own.

They were a little more comfortable to wear when he was just working around the base, and the tactile feedback of his bare hands was nice. He was of course referring to the fingers intertwined with his. For a few moments at least, the soft reassuring pressure and warmth of her touch chased away the anxiety welling up in the pit of his stomach. Although he supposed the gloves helped with the coding too, and his endless research with the HoloNet and beyond.

The sight of the two of them walking hand-in-hand didn’t raise too many eyebrows at this point. There had been a time where he’d tried to strictly keep the personal side of their relationship behind closed doors — but that had gone out the window a long, long time ago. At this point, Theron was pretty sure that the only person who scoffed at the public displays of affection was Lana, and that was just habit. Well, and maybe Grey’s older brother would make a comment or two about how disgusting and saccharine they were. But the jerk was probably just trying to get a rise out either of them with that sort of thing, because he got bored easily. It was like having a large, very old and very loud toddler as a brother-in-law. Sometimes Theron was thankful that he was an only child.

For now though, he and Grey were content to walk in companionable silence, meandering through the cantina, and out into the woods. It was springtime on Odessen, and it was a nice day. The variations in the season on the planet was still something that Theron was adjusting to, even years later.  If he had to pick a favorite, though, it would be spring. The fields beyond the military hangar would fill with these beautiful white flowers, and the sight of them brought to mind his homecoming from Nathema. The frequent rains kept the air humid, especially out here in the forest where there was less sunlight filtering through the canopy to speed up the evaporation. It made the ground smell fresh and new — and it reminded him of life.

These days, he really liked that reminder.

The temperature was still just cool enough where wearing a jacket outside wasn’t uncomfortable and gave him an excuse to draw his wife in a little closer under the guise of sharing warmth. She leaned into the embrace, and was happy to just walk along in ambling steps for a few more moments and let this quiet moment of peace linger. 

Then she let out a sigh, long and wearied, and it told him that whatever she was about to say next wasn’t going to be good news. But he’d already suspected that from Scourge’s temper tantrum.

“The quarantine has failed.” Her voice was quiet, ringing with an air of defeat she let show where no one but him could see.

His blood froze in his veins, his own steps slowing to a halt. “What do you mean ‘failed’?”

“The transport with Satele—where the infected were being contained—it’s not responding to our signals, and there was no sign of it at the next scheduled stop.”

That certainly explained the Sithly destruction. Theron couldn’t even blame Scourge, as a thousand conflicted feelings began to well up within himself. For the past few weeks, he’d been trying his best to keep them tied up. Like he was rolling every single thread of worry and anger and anxiety around each other, like it was some nervous ball of string. He wouldn’t let it unwind, he couldn’t. But the news picked at the fraying edge near the end, and if Theron wasn’t careful it could unspool into a mess that he’d have no hope of cleaning up.

The breath he blew out was long, whistling past clenched teeth. He needed to say something, because Grey was staring at him in the way she always did. Full of concern and warmth and understanding — and he loved being on the receiving end of that but also hated it because it just picked at that loose thread more. Her fingers shifted in his, holding him just a little tighter, and he let out another breath, giving her hand a squeeze in return. He swallowed, forcing the rising lump in his throat to go back down where it belonged, and managed to seize that thread of unease before it snagged on something and undid the tattered fabric of his composure.

He was fine. He just needed to focus. That was all. Preferably on the problem at hand.

So that’s what he did. “What’s our next step?”

“Right now Teeseven is heading out with an escort and as many probe droids we can spare. They can scan and sort through the data faster than we can.”

“And there’s no chance of them getting infected,” Theron pointed out sourly.

“That too,” she added with a sigh. “It’s just safer this way.”

She was right. Of course she was. The droids could do the job faster than anyone, cybernetics or no. He just hated being on the sidelines. Doing nothing.

“Do we know… how the ship disappeared?” He hated the hesitation in his voice, in the question itself. Hated the emotion in betrayed, even if he was sharing it with the safest person in the galaxy.

“No.” She gave his hand another squeeze. “I’m sorry.”

He’d had a nightmare last night. Where that ship of the damned had landed in some busy spaceport. Some place like Kuat. Or Nar Shaddaa. Or even Coruscant. And as the passengers of the transport walked out among the unsuspecting, all of the hapless victims fell into line one by one. And at the front of the crowd was someone that looked remarkably like his mother — but was definitely not her. The woman with Satele’s face had sightless, unseeing eyes that glowed with a malevolence. When she spoke, it was not the soft, calm measured tones he’d come to know, but with a deep chilling voice of a long vanquished ghost that Theron had first heard back on Yavin. Then the woman that was not his mother had turned on the unseen watcher and attacked.

Theron had awoken with a start. A fine sheen of sweat soaking through the thin sheet covering him. Somehow he hadn’t made enough noise to stir the woman sleeping next to him, still cocooned in all of the blankets and comforters on the bed. It had taken him a few moments to reorient in the darkness of their bedroom, let the familiar stone walls ground him back in reality. To remind himself that the dream had just been that. He hadn’t wanted to wake his wife to talk about the nightmare, even if he’d lain awake for a long time afterwards. Trying to shake the images from his head.

If someone were to ask him, Theron would tell them that he didn’t believe in ill omens. The timing of the dream with today’s news was just a coincidence. Or it was the product of a stressed mind trying to cope. His subconscious just trying to get him to pay attention to the things he kept pushing to the back of his mind during his waking hours.

In the light of day, he could see more clearly what was wrong with the dream. The last time the ship was seen, everyone on it was in a comatose state. Trapped in both a nightmarish slumber and stasis. The only thing amiss before today was the Force rumblings from Kira and Scourge that some thing was joining the consciousnesses of the infected together. His subconscious had just morphed that into something familiar — something a lot like Ziost. Another thing he didn’t like to think about.

There were a lot of things he didn’t like to think about. Too many mistakes and unpleasant things in his past to dwell on — and getting through the day right now sometimes felt like walking a very winding and narrow path to keep his thoughts focused and productive. Rather than take one of the branching paths into speculation about what was waiting for them when the ship was found.

As much as he tried to stay focused though, his mind still strayed. And he thought about Satele. A lot. He’d thought he’d excised that particular bad habit a long time ago. When he was growing up, he and Ngani Zho had talked about his mother, of course. Zho had never kept her a secret from Theron, and had told his young charge about his favorite student. For the longest time, Theron had this image built up in his head of this perfect, heroic Jedi that he’d someday meet. If he just tried hard enough, focused enough, and applied himself enough, he’d finally be able to wield the Force, and he’d have a chance of meeting the fabled woman that Zho talked about.

Even when both he and Zho had still been foolish enough to think that Theron had a chance at becoming a Jedi, they had never talked about mother and son ever being able to have that type of relationship. It would have been against those strict detachment edicts, as would have Satele taking her flesh and blood on as a Padawan. Even if the Force had deigned to grant him the ability to wield it like the rest of Revan’s bloodline, he probably would have had someone else train him. Maybe someone like Gnost-Dural. But if Theron was being honest with himself, not something he did often, in some of his more carefree moments as a child he’d imagined the two of them fighting side-by-side with lightsabers in hand.

He’d tried to scatter those stupid, childish notions away when he’d left Haashimut. Along with the selfish, immature longing for his mythical heroic mother to come save the teenage runaway when the shadows grew too dark during the night. He told himself that at thirteen he was too old to be wanting his mommy, especially since he’d never even met her. He reminded himself at fourteen too. By fifteen, he’d just about beaten that feeling away with bitterness. And at sixteen, he’d just learned to forget he’d ever even had the want to begin with.

Theron was approaching forty years old now. He was married and mostly happy with his life. There was still a small part of him, a part of him that he liked to pretend didn’t exist — to pretend had never existed — that still wanted his mother. Maybe not the one that he had, but that mythical, heroic figure of his childhood musings. Perhaps it was human nature, he thought, to crave the security and comfort provided by a parent.

A long time ago, before Ziost and Zakuul, before he’d even met the woman at his side, Satele had told her son that she would always be there for him if he needed her. All he had to do was ask. That same part of him he liked to pretend didn’t exist panicked at the thought that he might not have that anymore.

They’d never had a chance at a normal relationship. Not when Theron had been a young boy, dreaming of being that idealized Jedi like his mother before him. Definitely not as a bitter teenager out to prove that the galaxy was wrong about him. Nor even as adults, when they were working towards a common cause. Outside of a professional capacity, almost all of their conversations devolved into arguments — and since Theron was being honest with himself at the moment — a lot, though not all, of those had been started by him. Clinging to that old bitter feeling because the alternative meant opening himself up to being that scared, vulnerable kid again.

But not everything had been bad. They were precious few, but he did have a few pleasant memories with Satele. Most of them had been after Yavin, but before the Ziost incident. 

Mostly he remembers taking afternoon tea on Coruscanti terraces, a pleasant breeze teasing the air. He and Satele would take a break between the endless debriefs on the Revanite incident. Even during these moments of downtime, Satele would sit straight, posture perfectly poised as if she’d forgotten how to relax. Theron would sprawl back in his chair, kicking his feet up onto the table just to see if he could get a reaction out of her. Maybe get her to lecture him on proper decorum. He’d been careful not to kick any of the serving ware, just act like a bit of an uncouth ass.

She hadn’t lectured him though, just let a small smile quirk at the corner of her mouth. As if his attempt to rile her was both transparent and amusing. She would ask him politely about work, careful to keep the subject on something he was comfortable with. As if just the act of having this time together was enough for her, even if they never said anything of substance. 

It was funny. He hadn’t realized how much he’d actually enjoyed those quiet moments. At the time he’d just been focused on how awkward it was, trying to navigate the weirdness that was getting to know this stranger who was somehow not so strange. Now when he looked back on it, the awkwardness had faded, and the good stood out more. Time had a funny way of distorting things.

Theron didn’t know what he wanted at the end of all of this. He wasn’t sure if he and Satele could ever really have those quiet moments out on a Coruscant terrace now. Hell, he wasn’t sure if they’d be able to maintain a civil conversation. All he knew, as that when he was faced with the prospect of it, it crystalized in his mind clearly — he didn’t want his mother to die. She would one day, he knew that, by old age if nothing else. But he just wasn’t ready for that eventuality yet — even if they didn’t talk or hug or do any of the things normal families did. 

He was just not ready to live in a world where he didn’t have the opportunity to… do something different. And he didn’t want the last things expressed between them to be anger and bitterness. He didn’t want her to leave life thinking that he hated her. Because he didn’t. He just… just…

Without even realizing it, Theron started walking again. His pace brisk as if he could somehow escape the place that his mind had taken him to. Grey’s grip around him tightened but she kept in step with him, despite the fact that his legs were much longer than his and she was practically jogging to keep in stride. She was just there, a quiet, comforting presence at his side. Willing to wait on him to be ready to talk, always so patient and understanding.

He didn’t say anything yet, but slowed his steps a little so she didn’t have to try so hard to keep up even as he lifted his eyes up to the canopy. Counting the branches above as a way to think about something else.

Several years ago, this was the path that Grey had disappeared on when she had tried and failed to get intel from Valkorion for a mission. Where that ghost had stranded her out in the wilds. Where had Satele had found her, taken care of her — brought her to the ship that the former Jedi Grand Master had called home. Grey had eventually told him about all of what had happened, including all of the belongings and keepsakes that had been stowed away. Including some old toys Theron had when he was a child — and a locket with a picture of him after he’d joined the SIS. For a woman who had based so much of her life on not clinging to attachments, Satele apparently had quite a lot of things she was attached to. 

He still hadn’t figured that part out. Most people wouldn’t hoard the past possessions of children they didn’t want. Nor steal holos from sealed government files to have a memento of their long-lost son. There was a part of him that wanted to see Satele again so he could demand why she had those. The rational part of him knew it would be a stupid question, because there was really only one logical explanation.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure if hearing her say it aloud would make it better or worse. Hearing his mother actually tell him in words that she cared for him — maybe even loved him — would it make it easier or harder to accept whatever her fate was?

And beyond everything to do with Satele, and all of his stupidly complicated family drama, there was the woman at his side. His wife, his partner. One of the few people who was immune to the sickness that had overtaken his mother. The one who supposedly could walk into the heart of the contagion without fear of infection. Theron should have all the faith in the galaxy that she would save the day. Because she had never let him down, not once since they’d met. 

Yet the question still hovered. What if? What if she’s not immune? What if whatever had taken over Satele and all those following her took Grey too? 

Theron couldn’t lose his wife. He just couldn’t.

He knew that he would lose some unquantifiable part of his life if his mother died, even if he didn’t understand what that would look like until it happened. But he knew what his life would be like without the woman at his side. He’d already lived through that hell for nearly five years. He knew the emptiness of waking up each morning alone. Of the anger and impotent rage that never went away. Of the grief that bled away the brighter, happier moments. How even sleep wasn’t an escape, because then the day would just start over the moment he woke up.

It was why he’d so willingly thrown himself into danger when someone was conspiring to kill her. Better him than her, he’d thought. It was both a selfless and selfish desire. Keep her safe from harm — save himself from the pain again.

When he looked down from the canopy, it took him a moment to realize how far they’d walked. He blinked, breathed, and tried to reorient himself. Reminded himself to not pick at that thread of anxiety and what ifs. To not look too far beyond this moment. The future wasn’t guaranteed, only the present.

“Is there anything that I can do?” he finally asked, deciding not to ruminate on how long they’d probably been walking in silence.

“Right now, the safest thing to do is let Teeseven do his work.”

“So all we can do is wait?”

“It could be a few days. Or weeks. Or months. I can’t give you any certainties.” She let out a sigh. “I know it’s not ideal.”

Of course it wasn’t. Theron wasn’t good at waiting. For all his childhood training, all of the meditation techniques and special education that Zho had given him, he’d never quite been able to cure Theron of his natural impatience. His drive to just do. It was probably written somewhere in his SIS personnel file, hell, Lana had probably scribbled it in every single margin of his Alliance personnel file too. “Impatient.” ”Impulsive.” “Keep away from trains.”

Theron hated standing on the sidelines as everyone else risked their lives. Or in this case, as a bunch of droids did the searching for him. He needed something to do. Anything to keep him distracted from his own thoughts.

He hated this.

The waiting was killing him. Part of him wanted this to just be over. See where the cards fell and then let life get back to normal. He was also dreading the end of the waiting. The moment it ended, it meant that the danger arrived. Whatever this infection was building towards, something in his life was going to change. He could lose his mother. He could lose his wife. He could lose them both.

So the waiting was a blessing. And it was a curse. And right now, it was all he had. All he could do was focus on the present, even as the future came barreling towards them.

“You know, we’re already in the woods,” he said.

“We are.”

“What do you say we get lost here for a while…” Theron let his voice drop low, and watched as a little warmth raced into Grey’s cheeks. “We could have us another adventure.”

She snuggled in closer, laying her head on his shoulder. The proximity lit up a fire in his gut, and for a few moments, it knocked away that fraying thread of unease. In this moment, it was just the two of them.

“You know, I think that sounds like a good way to spend our time.”

And so they walked on, hand in hand. Still waiting. Together.

[syms-things-5]

Clear The Area - Chapter Seven

Previous Chapter HERE

Warning: Some language

Chapter Seven

Curled up on the sofa next to Shan with the bottle of red Noah had left was where Sarah found herself later that same evening, not entirely of her own doing. She’d changed into her sweatpants and her old university hoodie for comfort as soon as she’d arrived back but she still found it hard to relax.

Earlier, after they’d left the gallery, they had continued walking to the restaurant Jocelyn had scouted for them based upon a magazine review she’d read in Home & Country. They had managed to keep their awkwardness to a minimum so no one could tell but Chris soon felt the need to make an excuse and leave. Just before they arrived at the restaurant, he turned to thank Noah and Jocelyn for a nice afternoon and left them to it claiming his producer had emailed some last-minute script amendments he needed to be clued up on. Thankfully, he was a good enough actor that they didn’t suspect anything was amiss. He kissed Jocelyn on the cheek and patted Noah on the back of his shoulder but pretty much ignored Sarah as he walked off back in the direction of his own apartment, head down to avoid the rain. The three of them continued but Sarah had lost her appetite by that point so they called it a night after having a drink at the bar next door.

She texted Chris on the way home to tell him her folks had said it was nice to see him. She had no real reason to tell him that of course but it seemed like the thing to do. That was now over an hour ago and Chris still hadn’t responded. Anyone else would have assumed, logically, that he simply hadn’t seen it yet, or he had been in the process of replying but got distracted with something else, but she knew differently. She found herself anxious at the best of times but not so much concerned with what other people thought of her, if they thought anything at all, or whether she had annoyed anyone. The Evans clan were the exception to that rule. They knew her better than almost anyone. She figured, should she ever wind up missing, that she would be one of those people about whom others would give very banal police statements such as “she was quiet” or “she kept herself to herself” or “actually, now you mention it, she does look a little bit like a female Cillian Murphy.” She almost certainly would not have a candle-light vigil held for her in a park, which was a sobering thought.

“This guy’s a dick.” spoke Shan, mouth full of cookie dough, snapping Sarah out of her head for a second. “He’s stolen another designer’s idea but the judges haven’t figured it out yet.”

Sarah tried quickly to catch up with what was happening on the TV screen. “Is he gonna get away with it? Will they get told, or...?”

“Yeh, the producers will say something. They’re just ramping it up for the drama.”

Sarah loved how into Reality TV Shanna was. Don’t count her out of a quiz team; she knows everything there is to know about Project Runway and could put anyone to shame with her intricate knowledge of Kim Kardashian’s romantic life. Possibly even more so than Kim herself. It was both strangely impressive and kind of scary at the same time, and was possible also the reason why Chris never invited her to parties in L.A.

“So, who is going to win again? Is there a frontrunner yet?”

“We’ve only had three episodes but Jody, definitely. She’s soooo cool. I’m following her on Instagram and she designed these flares that I’m gonna buy if they ever go on sale.” Shan pulled out her phone and started scrolling through the app to find them.

Sarah poured herself another glass of wine and waiting to be blown away by Shan’s ever-changing fashion sense. She wished she was confident with clothes and colour as Shanna had grown to be. She was never afraid to experiment with what she wore, often clashing but somehow always pulling it off. Confidence is key, she would say if you asked her for advice. You can wear absolutely anything you like if you act like you don’t give a shit. In stark contrast, if you managed to find something that wasn’t beige or mauve in Sarah’s closet, it would be a miracle. Actually, if you managed to find anything in her closet that was younger than five years old would be a rarer find than a double rainbow. “Autumnal” is how she would describe it. “Dull as fuck” would be Audrey’s response. 

“Oh, Chris wants to know if we’re bringing anyone to his party next week. Matt needs numbers. Do you think Audrey will fancy coming?” Shan offered without looking up from her phone. “Actuallt, stupid question.”

“Actually, no, I don’t think so. I think it’s hers and Michael’s anniversary. She mentioned they were thinking of driving up to the coast.” She took a sip from her glass. “Did he just ask you that?”

“Yeh. Well, like ten minutes ago but I forgot to say anything.” Shan was still scrolling through her phone to find the photograph and couldn’t see the dejection cross Sarah’s face.

“Here they are. Look. Funky or what?” Shan excitedly waved her phone in Sarah’s direction so she could only make out a swirl of blue and purple. They were definitely flares, though. Ideal for a themes costume party but probably everyday wear for someone as ballsy as Shanna. “I reckon these with my black platforms and that red angora sweater of yours.” Maybe Sarah’s wardrobe was of some appeal after all.

“Yeh, I could see you in those for sure.” Sarah smiled. “But that sweater is the only decent thing I could wear on a date that isn’t part of my day to day stuff so you need to be careful with it.”

“Aww you saving it for Greg?” Shan winked.

“Hardly.” Sarah tried to find the energy to eye roll back at her but she was too bothered by the confirmation that Chris was almost certainly absolutely definitely ignoring her.

“Shan? I think I’ve done something stupid and I’m not sure what to do.”

Shan looked taken aback for a moment before just plain confused. “Sarah, you don’t do ‘stupid’. Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s fixable.” she leaned forward a little, moving closer to Sarah on the armchair next to the couch. “You know, it sounds odd but I had this feeling something was going on. You’ve been a little distracted lately. What is it?”

Now it was Sarah’s turn to hope Shanna wouldn’t be mad at her. “You know I contacted the agency? About Charlotte? Well, they’ve put me in touch with her and things have moved on a little bit since and now we’re sort of talking to each other. We’re thinking of meeting up soon.”

Shanna’s eyes grew wider in surprise. She’d known about Sarah’s response to the agency’s request and had made her feelings approximately clear some time before, but the actual talking part was new information.

“We’ve been texting a bit.” Sarah continued with some trepidation. “She gave them her number to pass on to me. She’s thinking of coming to Boston soon, maybe to have a drink or something. What do you think?”

Shan looked at Sarah without blinking for a moment. She didn’t know what to think. “Wow, you have her number? And she has yours? Obviously, sorry. That was a dumb thing to ask. OK. Well, I guess that’s that then.” Shanna placed her phone down on the coffee table in front of her and readjusted her position on the couch so she was facing Sarah more now.

Sarah rubbed the back of her neck. “Chris thinks I’m being stupid.”

“Oh, Chris thinks everyone is stupid if they don’t think the exact same way he does.” Shanna exaggerated her eye roll causing Sarah to chuckled. “Have you heard him talk about Giants fans?!”

“He is right, though, isn’t he? It’s a risk. I mean, she didn’t want to know before so what’s changed now?”

“A lot of things could have changed, Sarah. I guess you’ll find out soon enough.” Shanna responded. “When do you think you guys’ll meet?”

“She’s gonna let me know. She has to travel to Boston so I guess it depends on her journey.” Sarah shrugged, noting Shanna’s scepticism. “I’m sure she’ll contact me.”

“Yes, of course she will.” Shanna briefly paused. “Where is she from?”

“Raleigh, North Carolina. She wasn’t born there, I don’t think. Moved for work. I’m guessing she’s from Michigan originally but I don’t really know that for sure.”

Shanna nodded along, taking in everything Sarah was telling her and trying not to appear cynical. Having been on the end of something similar some years earlier, she appreciated how comforting the support was even if she herself knew it to be forged somehow. She knew the last thing Sarah would need right now was to be told she was being foolish, and she made a mental note to elbow her stupid brother in his ribcage the next time she saw him.

“I was going to tell them this weekend but I bottled it. After everything Chris said, I just figured maybe they would think I didn’t appreciate them enough. I just can’t put that on them. Not now. Not until I’ve at least met her.” Sarah rubbed both hands down her face. She didn’t know what to do and had kind of hoped that Shanna would magically make everything better.

“From everything I know of Joss and Noah, I really don’t think they would ever stop you from seeing her.” Shan nudged Sarah’s foot with her own, trying to get her attention back. “You can’t expect them to be over the moon aout it but they would at least understand your choosing to do so. And despite Chris’s opinion, that’s what this is. Your choosing. You have control over this and if you say so, well, then...that’s all that matters.”

Sarah smiled softly at Shanna, glad she’d taken the plunge and finally told her what was going on. Her shoulders felt a little lighter after removing some of the weight.

“But I can’t promise we’ll be OK. We’ll worry about you until she gives us reason not to.” Shanna leaned back on the couch, wine now in hand, and curled her feet back under herself. “Tough shit.”

Sarah watched as a smile slowly spread across Shanna’s face, her eyes full of sympathy. “You have to face it. We love you very much and if she dares even cross you? Just once? We’ll burn her house down.”

“OK.” Sarah nodded, wiping her eyes of the tears that had started forming in the corners. “OK, deal.”

*

Nothing had really changed in the days that followed. Sarah had the impression Chris was continuing to ignore her, with only short, clipped phrases padding out any conversation they might have had by accident. She was also pretty sure he and Lisa had both been talking to Shanna about it when he thought she couldn’t hear him, casually enquiring about her plans to meet. At several times, she caught the ends of hushed conversations and experience the odd awkward moment where everything would freeze as soon as she’d walk into the room. If they had been hoping to alleviate any concern, they were failing. Shanna was also a terrible liar at the best of times but to her credit, Sarah had heard her give Chris an earful for what he’d said to her following their visit to the McCurry exhibition and he had promised to offer Sarah an apology but that had yet to materialise, not that she cared much. Shanna had also decided not to give away any details of their impending meeting and for that, she’d be eternally grateful. 

“So,” Audrey said, leaning on the desk where Sarah had set up camp to catch up on some patient admin. “You’re really going to see her, huh? How will you know it’s her?”

“How do you mean?” Sarah looked up briefly from the papers in front of her, a crease forming on her brow. She was fed up of people’s judgements.

“Will she be carrying a white newspaper and some roses, or has she sent you a photograph of herself so you know who to look out for?”

 No sarcasm intended, Audrey was serious and she was right. That was a really good question. Crap. She hadn’t given much thought to asking Charlotte what she looked like and the photograph from twenty-nine years ago of a young curly-haired brunette with wide, tired eyes might not be the most entirely accurate depiction to work off. She could be a full-time blonde right now, and she had no idea how tall or slim she might be. In a strange way, being caught up in the unnerving anticipation of finally meeting her birth mother, she must have simply assumed they would bear a passing resemblance to one another. That their eyes would meet across a room and they would know instantly who the other person was. Maybe they would hug first and conversation would flow naturally from there and it would be like, where have you been all my life? 

One thing Lisa had offered by way of advice was to tell Sarah to stop putting unrealistic expectations on herself. She told her she didn’t want her to be disappointed but it was almost too late for that now. She couldn’t help but get a little carried away the more she thought about the infinite possibilities and the closer their arranged date crept up on her, the more agitated she became.

Work had been something of a welcome distraction. A chance to ground herself in reality as opposed to daydreaming all the what-ifs she might have before the weekend arrived. She’d even allowed herself to flirt a little bit with Greg, not too much but certainly enough to garner Audrey’s amusement and surprise.

“I’m just saying. It’s worth asking for some kind of idea of what she plans to wear, or maybe you should tell her something about yourself?” Audrey suggested. “I’ve always thought you would look amazing with rose gold hair and that would give you a perfect way to stand out.”

“I’m not gonna dye my hair. Remember what happened last time? That charity thing? I had to replace all of my towels.” They both laughed at the memory but something had clearly struck a chord somewhere inside her and Sarah pondered it for a second. “You’re right, though. I haven’t really thought much beyond the day itself.” Sarah looked back down at the work in front of her, all of it suddenly losing focus. “Tell you the truth, I have no idea what I’m going to say to her.”

“Yes, you are quite awkward at the best of times, aren’t you?”

Sarah eyed Audrey for a second unsure of what to say before catching the smirk on her face. She threw a roll-up memo note at her face.

“What do you think you’ll say to her?” Audrey asked, more seriously now.

Sarah took a deep break and leaned back in her chair. Truthfully, she had been losing sleep over this very subject, swinging between general chit-chat you would have with a long-lost pal you’d just added on Facebook, and calling her every name under the sun. She figured the fairest most useful thing would be somewhere between the two.

“I have no idea. Every time I think I have a hold on the situation, some other thought pops into my head and it’s like I’m back at zero again.” She threw the pen she’d been holding on to the table and looked at Audrey. Audrey’s face was full of something akin to worry.

“If you like, I could always call you, like on a date? If everything is OK, you can ignore it. If not, it could be your get-out clause?” Audrey offered. If Sarah had asked, Audrey would have probably staked the place out and sat next to them all night, and only partly because she was nosier than she would admit.

“I love you, Audrey.”

Audrey playfully rolled her eyes. “OK, I get it. This is something you have to do yourself. Just know the offer still stands, OK?” Sarah nodded gratefully. “I’m off in ten and I don’t think I’ll see you again before, so...take care. Let me know how it goes, yeh?”

She grabbed Sarah’s shoulder in a tight grip before walking out of the room, leaving Sarah to her mountain of paperwork and another three hours of shift before she could head home and try to get some sleep.

Sarah waited a second before pulling her phone out of her pocket. The last messages she had sent over the past day or two had all been to Charlotte; all of them casual enough but she’d answered every single one of them. Relief washed over her momentarily as she considered how to approach the awkward subject of not having a clue what her biological mother looked like. Then again, this whole situation was awkward. It was awkward as hell, so she just went for it.

Sarah 9.02pm: Just a thought. Who should I look out for this Friday?

Mercifully, she didn’t have to wait long for a response. The feeling she had was almost pleasant and it caught her off guard.

Charlotte 9.09pm: Oh my word, I didn’t think!! I’ll be in a red dress. Boots. Honestly I only have one nice outfit ;)

She allowed herself to smile for a second at her reply, taking a moment to think about what she was doing. If she could meet Charlotte for an hour, nothing too pressured, she could easily grab a cab to Chris’ place afterwards and still be there before 9pm. No one would notice.

Sarah 9.12pm: No problem. I’ll look out for you. Still OK for 7.30?

Charlotte 9.14pm: Absolutely! Looking forward to it x

*

[sternerstufftoys]

What up, Jhi?

While I'm a big fan of Simon Furman's work, especially his early Marvel Transformers comics, when the guy starts to feel cynical he does a lousy job of disguising it. Jhiaxus may not be the biggest case of this happening, but it's still pretty major. Famously the name was a play on the impending doom that the Generation Two comic was labouring under from the start, that it could be cancelled at any time thanks to a lack of confidence by, well, pretty much everyone from Hasbro down to Marvel and, if we're honest, a tiny part of Furman himself. 'Gee, axe us!' he sighed, and the series villain was so baptised.

(For the record the biggest case of Furman cynicism was Regeneration One, where he took out his frustrations of being kicked off the main IDW titles in favour of All Hail Megatron and proceeded to prove that he could annihilate human civilisation in a far nastier way than that upstart Shane McCarthy)

Anyway, Jhiaxus's status as a Decepticon leader is contentious at best, isn't it? In the G2 comic he was a Decepticon more on a technicality than anything else, being the direct descendent of the Decepticons of old. Like any rebellious child he was eager to distance himself from his embarrassing parents and tried to play down his purple-badged heritage, casting the eons-old war with the Autobots as a relic of the past. Hooray for moving past ancient grudges! Boo for new mutiny in his penchant for being just as brutal a dictator as anyone else. So he counts as part of the Deceptileader crew, even if he'd never admit it himself.

Of course in the main IDW comics he became a scientist, but don't let that fool you. Everyone was a scientist there. Shockwave, Thunderwing, Bludgeon, Cuthbert, Dibble, Grubb... oh, the list is endless. It's on his IDW form that this Thrilling 30 toy is based, though only loosely as it's a reasonably-extensive remould of the Armada Starscream toy from the same line. I've talked about that toy before, back when I could get my thoughts out in just a few paragraphs (hah!) and while there's plenty of replaced parts (head, wings, cockpit, front fuselage, tail fins for some reason) the base toy is the same, with the same range of movement and the same illusion of being smaller than it really is.

He's also very, very orange, which is a shame considering the old G2 design was mostly white and yellow with a few red and green accents here and there. A few nods to his heritage wouldn't have gone amiss. Jhiaxus's toy seems to be primarily based on this one panel from Devastation where the lighting makes him look more orange than he ever actually was, and gives him the big droopy chest bulk that helps him get all hunchbacked if you like. He certainly lends himself to a more Igor-like stoop than Armada Starscream's handsome hero-stance, so the remoulding hasn't gone to waste. The wings droop downwards instead of seeker-style, and his tail fins for some reason don't retract into his shins. He also gets a pair of guns instead of swords, which are perfect for giving to another figure instead. Like Jhiaxus would ever get into a fight himself.

It's pretty unlikely we'll be seeing new toys of big Jhi any time soon. He's shown up in the new IDW series in such a minor role I can't help but wonder if it's an intentional dig at the over-use of him and other Furman villains in the old IDW-verse, with their inevitable reappearances over and over again. And indeed, despite a new role as a glorified tattoo artist he still seems to be wearing this old toy as his costume. In a way it's fitting, that his latest appearance is filtered through cynicism as much as his first one was. No matter though, as it's a strong indicator that T30 is the only toy we're going to see in a long, long while. Unless you want to hunt down the 2003 Robots in Disguise version.

[qandnoablog]

Life on Sakaar (Marvel Imagine)

Title: Life on Sakaar: Discovered Short Story

Pairing: Loki x Avenger!Reader

Warnings: Based on the movie - Avengers: Age of Ultron Thor: Ragnarok

Short story based on my other fan fiction: Discovered, so it’s best to read that one before starting on this! Click here if you want to go to Discovered (Marvel Imagine) Part 1

Part: 1/3 Part 1, 2, 3

Key: Y/N - Your Name

Word Count: 2,922

Summary: [Y/N] is still stranded on the alien planet Sakaar, finally adjusted to this odd way of life, when Loki barges into the picture! Now dealing with the once-enemy of Earth, how will her life on Sakaar change?

Note From Author: Hi everyone! Wow, it’s been a really long time since my last post!

Thank you for still keeping up with me and I’m sorry for not posting in so long. I was actually working on this a while back in November, but a lot of stuff has been happening and I wasn’t able to post it till now! Due to my editor’s advise, I made a short story about [Y/N]’s life on Sakaar with Loki, so I hope you enjoy!

Part 1

It still amazed her.

Of all people, [Y/N] was one of the best at knowing how difficult the Grandmaster could be. He would be benevolent one day and be completely unreasonable the next. He would indulge one person and then discard them the moment he tired of their presence. He was a very fickle person, the only ones able to be close to him being Topaz and his favorite scrapper, Scrapper 142. [Y/N] only managed to catch his attention due to how much he adored his Champion. Without Hulk having her back, she would have been discarded long ago. However, she also was smart enough to know that she couldn’t rely on just that to keep her safe on this alien planet. To survive, she didn’t need to just be tolerated by the Grandmaster. She needed his favor.

It had taken her years to build up the relationship she had with him, so many trials and errors before getting it just right. But the one before her… The one that the Grandmaster favored currently… He had only just arrived and was already invited to several parties.

Loki, the God of Mischief.

His silver tongue had gotten him a nice position and was hoarded by the guests for his attention. With his new friendship with the ruler of this planet, of course everyone would try to get to the Grandmaster through him. She was also surrounded by the people of Sakaar, being the one that was close to both the Grandmaster and his famed champion, but she had been living there for twenty-eight years. It took her so long to make a name for herself, albeit faster than others, but Loki had made one in a matter of seconds.

Gotta hand it to that silver tongue of his, [Y/N] internally sighed as she politely brushed past the Grandmaster’s fans, Well, not that I mind. Less people to bother me.

She wasn’t jealous. In fact, she was relieved. The Grandmaster had been dragging her to all sorts of parties, festivals, and gatherings that it constantly drained her. Having Loki share that burden, she wouldn’t complain. Also, she admired how quickly he could win over the people and bear with the continuous energy of the Grandmaster.

The only problem was… The Grandmaster wanted Loki and her to get along. He adored both their companies, how they praised him to the heavens and back, but he could sense the tension whenever the two were alone together. Rather than separate one another, he decided to utilize his title as ruler and force them to get along. Any chance he got he would put the two together. So, in accordance to his intentions, [Y/N] and Loki put on their masks and acted as though they were having the time of their lives.

Before the end of the second day since Loki’s arrival, [Y/N] was physically exhausted. She couldn’t feel her legs anymore and the party just didn’t seem to end. A day and a night had long since passed and still the party was in full swing. As a human, she couldn’t keep up with their physical energy. Though her mental state had adjusted to the constant celebrations the Grandmaster threw her way, she was still a weak human. The only aspect she envied about Loki was his physical endurance akin to an Asgardian.

Of course, as a prince and a god, Loki was actually not used to being dragged along. Physically, he was perfectly fine. His tolerance far surpassed a mere mortal’s, so the continuous bustle of enthusiasm didn’t bother him all that much. However, he was still a dignified royal. When had he ever been unceasingly forced to participate in such menial gatherings and interact with lower life forms without even a moment's rest? Constantly wearing a mask, who wouldn’t feel drained? He was thoroughly and mentally drained.

Inevitably, the two crashed on the closest couch.

While they slumped together, utterly exhausted, Loki decided to break the silence between them. He was always somewhat curious about her. It was unheard of for a Midgardian to be found on such a far-off planet like Sakaar. Their technology hadn’t gotten that far yet, so how could she be here? In addition, he heard that she arrived with the Beloved Champion the Grandmaster was so proud of. He couldn’t imagine a mere human being able to win such a title in an arena full of monstrous brutes, so Loki decided that this time was as good as any to just simply ask.

“Midgardian,” he began, but [Y/N] didn’t let him finish.

“Alien,” she muttered without looking up at him, her dry eyes fixedly staring at the flashing lights that caused her head to throb slightly in pain.

[Y/N] knew what Midgardian meant. She had heard Thor and Scrapper 142 use that term before and understood that they called Earth Midgard. Though it didn’t sound like an insult, the way Loki used it certainly sounded demeaning. Also, if translated, wasn’t he calling her Earthling? Honestly, rather than feeling offended, it made her want to laugh. If he was going to call her an Earthling, might as well call him an alien!

“I heard that you know the Champion,” Loki continued, a bit irked in being interrupted but brushing past it.

Whenever he called her a Midgardian, she would return it by calling him alien. At this point, he was already used to it but it was still unpleasant. She was just a mere human. According to her, didn’t almost all life in the entire cosmos consist of “alien”? That would put him at the same level of so many other lower lifeforms! A god like him, how could he allow such a term get attached to him? Alas, he couldn’t make trouble with her. Not when the Grandmaster liked her so much to keep her by his side.

As a master of deception, he hid his irritation well as his eyes lazily watching the crowd around them.

“The Grandmaster raves about his Champion. I have not yet had the honor of meeting such a being.” It was a subtle hint at his intentions. He would like to meet this Champion that Sakaar had fallen in love with.

Though it was a simple request, something that [Y/N] could easily answer, she was too tired. She tried to pay attention, she really did, but her mind was too muddled with fatigue. [Y/N] couldn’t even focus on his words as her eyelids heavily drooped downwards.

“Hmm?”

Loki knew [Y/N] was always on guard around him, but he always dismissed it due to the scheming nature of the people on this planet. When he heard her indifferent reply, it seemed as though she wasn’t willing to answer. Before he could repeat himself, slightly annoyed, something warm pressed against his arm. Surprised, Loki looked down and saw a sight that he never could have imagined.

[Y/N] had fallen asleep. And, she was leaning on him.

The very thought of a mere Midgardian using the almighty him as a pillow was unacceptable. He should have felt disgusted and immediately shrugged her off of him, but for some reason, Loki actually didn’t mind.

“I must be tired,” he muttered to himself in disbelief, not accepting this lenient attitude of his.

Actually… Isn’t this the perfect opportunity? He mused to himself as something clicked.

[Y/N] was always so vigilant whenever he was around but in this very moment, she was completely defenseless. Due to her close relationship with the Grandmaster, he couldn’t use his powers openly as it would alert her of his intentions. Now, he could easily peer into her mind without her noticing, let alone resisting. It was the best time to get some answers!

Though it would have been very simple, for some reason, he didn’t actually feel like doing it. It was completely illogical not to take advantage of the opportunity since it presented itself right to him, but he just couldn’t find the motivation to go through with it.

Perhaps it was because it was just too easy. Or maybe it was because there most likely wasn’t anything worth much in that tiny, Midgardian head of hers. Either way, he gave up on the thought and returned his attention to the party.

There was something amiss that he finally noticed as his eyes roamed the crowd. The usual party guests that would approach him any chance they could get weren’t making their way towards him. In fact, the people that often flocked towards [Y/N] also kept their distance.

How curious.

Upon closer observation, he realized why they weren’t fighting for his attention this time. It was because they didn’t want to try to approach him and disturb [Y/N], who never slept at these events. Though she had a calm temperament, people were different if awoken. The Grandmaster had favored her for so many years, so how could they carelessly wake her up and potentially incur her ire? In addition, she had the Champion backing her up! Neither one were figures they could enrage. They weren’t brave enough for that.

When Loki understood their thoughts, his eyes flashed with a cunning idea.

Finally, someone steeled their nerves and stepped closer to talk to him. So long as they were quiet and careful, they believed that they wouldn’t disturb [Y/N]. However, Loki was smarter. He glanced at the approaching person and apologetically smiled, a slender finger pressing against his lips as if he didn’t want anyone to wake [Y/N] up. Everyone received the message and carried on with the party, making sure to give the two enough room so neither would be angered.

“Looks like I found myself a useful tool,” Loki chuckled to himself as he shifted his gaze onto the sleeping human beside him.

Perhaps it was because [Y/N] was sleeping so soundly, but he also felt a bit drowsy.

Without giving it too much thought, he leaned his head down onto [Y/N]’s and felt her stir beneath him. After just a brief second of moving, she settled back down and leaned further into his shoulder, unconsciously nuzzling for more warmth. He stiffened slightly, then relaxed his muscles. Loki had to admit, the innocent action was cute. Such rare chance to see [Y/N], who always masked her emotions and only appeared calm and polite, so docile and defenseless would probably never present itself again.

Surrounded by the blaring of the music, Loki couldn’t help but feel that this moment was… It was surprisingly very peaceful.

~

Her neck began to ache as consciousness slowly made its way back to her.

Still a bit out of it, [Y/N] was about to move her head when she felt something above her. Her whole body stiffened as confusion overtook her. Shifting her gaze, careful not to move her head, she realized what that peculiar pressure was.

She was sleeping on Loki’s shoulder! Not only that, he was leaning his head on hers! Why was he sleeping too?!

Her whole face reddened as heat rose up all the way to her ears. Never had she ever been so thoughtless to actually fall asleep with a guy so close to her. Especially one as dangerous as Loki! And at a party no less! On Earth, her whole childhood was filled with warnings on what to be wary of at parties, so how could she be so careless?! Oh, the amount of lecturing she’d recieve if her parents knew!

[Y/N] felt so baffled by the situation that she nearly fell off the couch! And why didn’t Loki simply brush her off? Actually, why didn’t he push her off? He clearly thought Midgardians were merely insects beneath his feet. Plus, his ego certainly wouldn’t allow just any girl like her to use him as a pillow!

Her head was swirling with endless questions and confusion that she was just about ready to blow. Right when she was getting ready to finally push herself off of him, a smooth voice made its way to her ears.

“Stay still.”

She went completely rigid. Loki was awake?!

Then she registered what he said and frowned. Loki’s words, a quiet command, was too unexpected and [Y/N] was ready to protest when she heard the loud sounds of the party still in full swing.

Her muddled mind cooled somewhat and her rapidly beating heart steadied itself. Finally fully awake, [Y/N] took in her surroundings and quickly realized why Loki had demanded her to remain still. The usual people that were so lively and festive, always intruding on their space, was actually leaving them alone. It was a miracle!

Her body relaxed as she closed her eyes, already understanding why they were so docile at the moment. It wasn’t surprising how cautious they were when they realized [Y/N] was sleeping.

Not too long ago, the Grandmaster had accidentally crashed at one of his parties. Sound asleep and very comfortable, smart people were wise to leave him be but some unruly, noisy girls were begging for his attention. Needless to say, he didn’t hesitate to command their execution. Obviously, he wasn’t too keen on being rudely awoken. Everyone now knew that it was foolish to wake up anyone of power. If they slept, it was best to leave them undisturbed.

The two on the couch understood one another’s pain of being dragged around and forced to interact with these two-faced guests. Constantly masking their own displeasure, having to act like proper hosts, of course they would dislike the usual guests’ company. If this moment of peace was granted due to her sleep, then she didn’t mind allowing Loki to join in. He was only using her, not supporting her tired figure out of the kindness of his heart.

Mutual personal gain. She could understand that.

~

After two days, the party finally came to an end.

[Y/N], who was still on the couch, was about to get up as everyone started to file out, when she noticed the pressure on her head didn’t budge. Glancing up, she was surprised to find Loki’s eyes closed, his body at ease. He had actually fallen asleep!

Though this god had troubled Earth so much during his invasion, she actually had no beef with him. [Y/N] had never met him when he attacked New York and only dealt with his Chitauri army. Since he wasn’t hostile when arriving at Sakaar, his overbearing attitude completely amiss, she found it hard to believe that he would try to rule Earth. Still, she was always wary of his power. Just because he didn’t try to overthrow Sakaar didn’t mean he didn’t have the potential to. However, she had to admit that she was very thankful towards him for allowing her to sleep and lean on his shoulder. In addition, he did tell her how much time had passed and a bit about Earth. If anything, she really did owe him one.

Carefully getting up, being very gentle with his swaying head, [Y/N] maneuvered away from under Loki and helped him support his head on the couch cushion. She attentively made sure that he wouldn’t fall over without someone to lean on and then quietly inched away.

Successful in not disturbing him, she debated on whether or not to wake him up to tell him that the party was over, but then decided that he must have been very tired to actually fall asleep with so many people. He deserved a break, so being rudely awoken wouldn’t really help.

[Y/N] was so sure that Loki was asleep that she didn’t notice the eyes that followed her as she made her way out of the room.

He watched her departing figure before standing up and elegantly stretched. With one last glance at the doorway that [Y/N] had walked out of, Loki finally made his way towards the other end of the room, another exit.

Honestly, Loki actually did fall asleep back then. Nevertheless, his keen senses allowed him to immediately wake up the moment [Y/N] moved from under his head. He was so stunned that he had actually fallen asleep that he didn’t even register how his eyes were still closed. When [Y/N] had handled him gently, careful not to wake him, he felt that it was very unlike the indifferent girl he had gotten to know these short few days. It was a compassionate side to her that he never believed existed in a resident of Sakaar. But he didn’t let his mind wander. It was best to not be too curious.

Right when he left the room, a figure returned.

[Y/N] carried a blanket as she hurriedly made her way to the couch. But when she saw that Loki was no longer there, she was a bit surprised before immediately recollecting her thoughts. He must have awoken shortly after she had left. Since he wasn’t there, this spare blanket was no longer necessary. Without another thought, she returned to her room, putting the blanket back in the closet before settling down on her bed and falling into a deep and comfortable sleep.

Loki didn’t know that [Y/N] had returned, another act of kindness he that he sadly didn’t get to see this time, and she in turn didn’t realize that her actions had sparked a curious light deep within the god’s mind.

Tags: @themeanestlittlewitch @stressedandbandobessed7771 @moistpotatobear @fxckingfat

[moonlitgleek]

Hello! I really enjoy your analyses on inheritance in Westeros, so I want to ask; How possible do you think it is that absolute primogeniture is established by the end of ASOIAF? The reason I am asking is that a lot of fans seem to consider it likely (usually with Jon/Dany being the ones to do it). It's not that I am against it of course, but based on the way the books approach the issue, I would say that it's very improbable. What is your opinion? Thank you for your time!

I received another message touching on this issue a short while before yours.

not the same anon from the sansa qitn ask, another way sansa (or arya) could end up ruling is if rules of inheritance change in westeros (or at least the north) to benefit the oldest child regardless of gender. It wouldn’t requiere a unanimous decision by the starklings to specifically choose sansa above all, nor would it be a radical change from the previous societal structure, just little step in the right direction.

This is what I was talking about when I said I was wary of treating the War for the Dawn as a curative event that would magically burn off all wrongs and existing prejudices. I’m obviously not opposed to such a change as applying absolute succession across Westeros, but this raises the question: why would the War for the Dawn result in a change in succession principles? What’s the link here? The War for the Dawn isn’t going to make people miraculously decide to reject every aspect of the patriarchy or wipe away thousands of years of accepted traditions in a society that doesn’t see anything amiss with male-preference primogeniture. Expecting it to inexplicable usher in a change that is considered radical within the bounds of the in-universe society, when we literally have nothing to link said change to the war feels more like the readers are projecting a certain expectation of progressiveness on the story. This series may have some rather radical thinkers, but it’s not like they are going to wake up and decide to dismantle the monarchy.

Also, change doesn’t happen overnight, it builds up so I don’t see how we’re going from a story where some places have never seen a female ruler to a sudden shift where people don’t particularly care about gender in succession.

[agedmage-blog]

Survival Mode

When the shit hits the fan most people immediately revert into primal survival mode. This could be something going haywire at work or failing to properly prepare for an exam at school or completely destroying your relationship by not paying attention to your significant other. Regardless of the circumstance, when the adrenaline kicks in and the heart starts racing, and the anxiety completely takes over your body, most human beings in some way begin to survive the circumstance.

I am in the midst of that right now. My girlfriend of five years has decided that I do not love her any more and has decided that she wants out. She has told me that she has no interest in trying to make our relationship work any more, that she doesn’t believe that I can make our relationship work, that I don’t listen to her, and that I don’t love her.

If I’m being honest, I cannot dispute what she is saying based on what she has seen from me.

I’m super easy to love. Like, you know me. It doesn’t take a lot.

- S

My woman is a delightful simple person. She does not require a lot to show her that she is loved. Yet I’ve managed to look past almost every single one of the actions that she has been telling me about for years. The things that speak love to my woman are indeed pretty simple. Talk to her openly about my day, involve her in decision making, make sure she knows where we stand financially at any given time, do my share of housework, make sure the cars were kept up and full of gas, parent judiciously and with her as a partner. There are more, but these are some of the more basic things that any man that loves his woman not only can do, but should do. Yet, I didn’t.

I’ve allowed myself to get comfortable, complacent. I’ve allowed myself to let business as usual become the norm. And in so doing I’ve communicated a tremendous amount of disrespect and devaluation to my woman. That is something that should literally never happen, yet I am finding out more and more, that this happens so often that most people aren’t even aware that they are doing it until someone throws in the towel.

Which is where I am right now. Had it not been for her literally tuning me out and acting as though I didn’t exist, I wouldn’t have known that shit had gotten to this point. She became a totally different person overnight, which indicated to me that something was amiss. And so I probed, and pried, and finally got off my ass to check in on here only to find that she was not there anymore emotionally. It was a sad day realizing that the woman that I intended to be with forever was now, immediately, just a person with whom I was sharing a home.

So here I sit, in survival mode, trying my best to not lose hold of what I thought was my forever. She’s checked out, perhaps even moved on in her head, and she is not feeling me at all right now. She wants to do what makes her happy and she wants to do things with her friends from work. Neither of those include me, and as much as I want to be a part of her life still, as I try my hardest to make a diving save I believe I am just pressing her closer toward leaving. I cannot believe I’ve allowed myself to fail this miserably, that I’ve shown the only woman in the world that has ever really loved me that I just don’t care. I promised her that I would never let that happen, and now I am basking in the shitstorm that followed actually letting it happen.

As a word of advice for anyone... listen to your partner. When he/she is telling you that they have a need of you, deliver on that need. Work for it. Pay attention to it. Make a fucking to-do list if necessary, but make sure that the needs of your partner are always met, or at least try your hardest to meet them. Nothing will show love and respect more to your loved one than showing them, through action, that they actually mean something to you.

[timetravelingheart]

My Side of the Fence Part Seventeen: A.M. Imagine

For those concerned about a heartbreaking moment, it does not appear in this chapter (this one actually turned out quite fluffy!) but it is on its way. This chapter kind of sets up that moment. That’s as spoilery as I’ll get since this is all still a work in progress and ever-changing! Thank you for following along. I love when you send in ideas that fit these characters SO well; it’s like you’re in my head! 

ALSO - to the anon who sent in the Vance Joy “I’m With You” song association, thank you! I thought this would be an appropriate time, for those who are unaware, to mention that this story is semi-based off of “My Side of the Fence” by Dan+Shay whose latest album is on repeat for me. Highly recommend listening to it! :) 

One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen

Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen

For the first time in a while, Savannah was uncomfortable in Auston’s presence. She could tell he was deep in thought, gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. While she wanted the conversation they needed to have to be over with, she knew that it wouldn’t be wise with him in this current state. 

“So how come you didn’t drink tonight?” Savannah asked, trying to break the tension. 

“When you said you were coming and that you might drink, I wanted you to be able to have fun without worrying about getting home,” he kept his eyes on the road ahead of them, rain now coming down and causing him to be a little more cautious. 

“You didn’t have to do that. We could’ve just taken an uber home.” 

“I know. But it’s not a big deal. I get more nights out than you do anyway. There’s always an opportunity to drink,” he shrugged nonchalantly, still not sparing her a glance. 

“Well, thank you,” she replied awkwardly. Auston finally turned to look at her, suddenly seemingly aware of the effect his mood was having on her. He smiled tightly, reaching over to squeeze her thigh in acknowledgement. 

“I’m sorry about Melanie,” Auston apologized, wanting to clear the air before they reached her apartment. He had assumed he was going up with her, but after the night’s events, he wasn’t sure. 

“Oh, don’t be. She was really nice,” Savannah replied. 

“Yeah, she is,” he agreed, not knowing what else to do. He wanted to know what was said, and based on how Savannah was acting, he knew she knew something, he just didn’t know what version of the story she got. He wanted her to ask him for his side, much like she did the night they played 21 questions. 

They pulled into the complex parking garage and Auston turned off the car, but neither made any move to get out of the car. Auston waited, tapping his wrist on the steering wheel. Savannah unbuckled her seatbelt and turned in her seat to face him.

"Are you still okay with our arrangement?” Savannah all but whispered, her voice shaking, giving way to her uncertainty. Auston whipped his head around the face her. Fuck. 

"What do you mean?” Auston willed himself not to overreact. 

Savannah sighed. Specificity was probably necessary here, but she hated confrontation. “I mean, are you okay with us just being casual?”

Auston sighed this time, running his hand through his hair in frustration. He should have known. "Sav, what did Melanie say to you?”

“I promise I didn’t pry, she just…word-vomited all over me,” Savannah explained, fidgeting with her hands in her lap. “She said that you ended things with her because you realized you wanted to be in a relationship. I’m not asking you explain your past, but I just need to know if what we’re doing is still okay with you.”

"That’s partly true,” Auston admitted, glad to have an opportunity to explain himself. “I told her that I was done with hooking up with random girls and that if I were to be in a relationship, I didn’t see that happening with her and I still don’t.”

"Harsh,” Savannah visibly cringed.

"I know, and I feel badly about that, but I thought it was best to be direct,” he paused, not sure how his next statement would be taken. He watched as she fidgeted with her hands, unbuckled his seatbelt, and reached out to grab them in his. He was relieved when she visibly relaxed at his touch. “I didn’t tell her I was actively seeking a relationship or that I needed to be in one, Sav. You’re not keeping me from anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

"So you are still happy with keeping things casual?”

“Sav, I’m happy with you,” Auston squeezed her hands, bringing them to his lips.

Savannah fought the urge to give in to his sweet gestures. She needed to know the complete truth before she felt comfortable moving forward. “That’s not answering my question. You know how I feel about a relationship right now and the last thing I want to do is lead you on or feel like you are waiting for me. You deserve more than what I could give you in a relationship right now.”

Auston bit his cheek to keep himself from audibly sighing. He adored Savannah, but sometimes she just worried too much. “You need to stop assuming you know what I think I deserve and what I would want in a relationship.”

Surprised by what was easily the harshest tone Auston had ever used with her, Savannah cringed, worried she was making this more difficult than it needed to be. “I’m sorry, you’re right,” she relented. “But I just need to know because if this is more than casual to you, I think it should end for both of our sakes.”

Red flags rose in Auston’s mind. She was willing to end this if she thought he wanted to be in a relationship with her, or in general. He needed to salvage this before it was too late. "I am okay with it being just casual, Sav. It’s not more than that,” he lied.

"You’re sure?” she looked doubtful and hopeful simultaneously and Auston hated himself.

"Sav, we have a good thing going right now, don’t we? I mean, you’re having fun and you’re happy, right?”

"I am,” she answered honestly. And she really was, other than when she spent way too much time overthinking moments with Auston, almost searching for reasons to doubt him. 

Auston reached his hand out to cup her cheek, relishing in Savannah sinking into his touch. “Then please stop stressing and letting outside factors influence this. It is what it is right now and as long as we’re both okay with that, I don’t see why it would need to end. Okay?”

Savannah nodded, leaning forward to place a kiss on his cheek. She had to trust that Auston wouldn’t lie to her. She got the answer she wanted, so they could continue. She pushed aside the nagging feeling that something was amiss, but she wanted so badly to continue, to stay in his presence. She didn’t even remotely acknowledge what wanting to stay in his presence meant. If he could keep it casual, so could she. “Okay. Let’s go upstairs.”

__

After having a long hot, and productive, shower together, Savannah and Auston were tangled up in her sheets, listening to the rain and continuing their game of 21 questions. It was nearing 1am, but neither felt tired. They lay naked, Savannah leaning on her crossed arms on Auston’s strong chest as he lay propped up against her pillows. 

“You can’t say that!” Savannah exclaimed, raising her head to admonish him. 

“Why not?” he retorted, the gleam evident in his eye. He was relieved that nothing felt different from the moment they left the car and entered her apartment. It was as if the events from the night hadn’t happened and things were back to what was becoming their normal. 

“Because, you can’t possibly believe that. There’s no way I’m friends with someone who believes that. I can’t accept it.”

“Well, you better believe it, baby,” Auston laughed.

“Nope, no way. Hedwig’s death was not more emotional than Dobby’s. It just wasn’t,” Savannah shook her head defiantly. Who was this person she was laying here with who had these terrible Harry Potter takes?

“You asked my opinion! That’s my opinion!”

“Your opinion is wrong,” she plopped her head back down on her arms aggressively, earning a grunt from Auston, who barked out a laugh.

“All I’m saying is that Hedwig was there from the very beginning. She was a loss of his innocence. She symbolized that end,” he reached one hand out to push her sexed-up hair behind her ears. After the rough night they had, he was so content to be in this moment with her. His favourite version of Savannah was the one he got to be with behind closed doors, in their safe spaces. She was light; at peace with their privacy and joyful in his company. He felt like he was simultaneously floating in the clouds and being grounded to something good; something real. He had a feeling this is what love felt like. 

“I agree with that part. I just don’t agree that it was a more emotional moment.”

“Well, we’ll just have to agree to disagree, won’t we?” he teased, tapping her twice on the nose and laughing as she stuck her tongue out to lick his palm. 

“Whatever. It’s your turn.”

Auston hummed thoughtfully. He ran one hand leisurely up and down her side, sending shivers up her spine. “What is one of your favourite childhood memories?”

Savannah didn’t have to think twice before answering. “As you know, my dad is one of the biggest hockey fans out there,” she paused to roll her eyes as Auston mouthed a faux cheer of ‘Go Leafs Go!’. “And when none of my siblings took a serious interest in playing the sport, I was kind of his last hope. I don’t know if I told you, but he used to coach some of the kids’ leagues at our local rink. He coached my brothers in baseball, too actually. Anyway, the problem was, when I strapped on those black hockey skates, I would see the girls at the rink in these clean white ones doing spins and jumps and just looking like angels on ice and suddenly that’s all I wanted. My parents have actual video of me playing away from the puck and just trying to do pirouettes and mimic the moves I saw these other kids do, but in my hockey skates.” Savannah laughed at the memory. 

“I need to see those videos someday,” Auston laughed picturing an even tinier Savannah doing spins in hockey skates. “I didn’t know you were on a hockey team though.”

“For an inconsequential period of time,” Savannah laughed. “It took my mom to convince my dad to let me switch from hockey lessons to figure skating. But she did, and even though he was disappointed, he was there for every single practice of mine and even helped me pick out some of my leos. One day, I skated off the ice after practice just fuming and in tears and when he asked why, I told him that some of the kids I used to play hockey with were teasing me for moving to the ‘weaker’ sport instead saying only ‘babies’ figure skated.”

Auston grimaced. As a hockey playing kid, he was definitely on the side of the teasers once in a while when they had to share the ice with the figure skaters. He now felt like sending personal apologies to all of the kids he mocked from ages 8-12. 

“So my dad, all 6′2, 200 some-odd pound of him, got himself a customized pair of figure skates, made in white no less even though men’s figure skates are usually black, and skated out on to the ice with me at the next practice. And I never heard another comment again. These kids revered my dad. He was Coach. And now he was out there in figure skates, nearly dying and killing his knees trying to spin. It was just...everything,” Savannah smiled, feeling her heart squeeze at the thought of her big teddy bear of a dad. 

"That’s amazing,” Auston laughed. “So are you a daddy’s girl?”

"It depends on the day. I think because I moved away from home at such a young age, my parents have done their best to spend time with me together and individually so I’ve gotten a bit of both,” Savannah reflected on her relationships with her parents. “My mom is all-knowing though. My dad is pretty unobservant for the most part, so most of our more meaningful talks come from me approaching him or outright expressing an emotion. My mom reads between the lines. She reads body language. She listens for the unsaid. I think it comes from being a teacher for students with special needs who can’t always communicate quickly or in what we consider to be the easiest way so she has to really pay attention.”

"She sounds a little like my mom.”

“Oh, after meeting your mom one time I could tell she was the kind of woman who could draw blood from a stone. She had my whole life story in under ten minutes of knowing her!”

Auston’s heart soared at how affectionately Savannah spoke of his mom after meeting her only one time. “Yeah, she has the affect.”

"What about you? Are you closer to one parent?”

"For a long time, it was my dad. He was my best friend. And still is,” Auston ran a hand through his hair, thinking back on the last few years with his parents. “But when I lived in Switzerland, my mom moved in with me for the year and we really bonded. I think we missed a lot of that because of how often I was away for hockey as a kid. She can still make me feel like a kid too sometimes, especially when I’m home visiting. But it’s just how she shows love.”

“You have great parents, Auston.”

“It sounds like we both do,” he leaned forward and kissed her forehead, watching as she tried to hide what appeared to be a rather large yawn. He glanced at the clock on her bedside table, seeing that it was nearly 3am. They had nowhere to be in the morning, and he had no intention of leaving her apartment the next day until she all but kicked him out, of course before what he assumed, and hoped, would be a very late breakfast. “All right you,” he pecked her lips, dragging her up his body. “Time for bed.”

“Mm,” she moaned, leaning in to kiss him deeply and then snuggling herself into his side, head tucked under his chin. She felt warm and safe and happy. This still worked for them, and she was so relieved. She could focus on the Olympics without the added pressure of balancing a relationship, and still have this safe space with Auston. As long as he was happy with what she could give, she was happy to stay right here for as long as possible. “Good night, Auston.”

“Good night, Sav.” 

[darth-schism]

Sequel Re-Shoot Wishlist (current)

(This'll differ from the general "live action series wishlist." There will be some common elements, but most will be based on the rumors that are already out there, with a few additional requests).

1. Everything that was ignored from TFW in TLJ...put in TLJ.

* Knights of Ren (With explanation, context scenes, and confrontations with them between the characters. Have Finn and Rose take one or two of them out along with Phasma. Something)!

* Snoke (Same deal. Give more to the guy though. Establish him as the reason the Phantom Emperor is contained. Establish that he knows that Phantom Palps is not the real Emperor, but an insane, lab made force being like himself, only waaay more delusional. Have this put him at odds with Pryde. Hell, I'm even a fan of him alluding to the fact that it was Luke who fucked up his head, and thats why he has like...four times as many elite guards thsb Palpatine had around him at all times).

* Maz (Have her be around for more than 2 seconds to explain how she got the lightsaber).

[This all could probably be done by reducing/excluding the Holdo and Casino plot line...which was kinda a while lotta nothing].

2. "The point of the map was to help Resistance, not restore the Jedi Order." (AKA restore Luke's reputation)

* This line (This alone would blow the perspective of how Luke was presented in TLJ out of the water. It would prove beyond a doubt that Luke, even though he didn't want the Jedi back, was still finding ways to fight against the First Order).

* Luke (He's doesn't have to be the way he was thirty years ago. Most people aren't as they age. But along with the element that he's trying to help where he can, a few lines and moments to show he's isolation was equal parts forced and a matter of choice (like Obi Wan and Yoda), and a flashback with him fighting Snoke in attempt to get Ben back wouldn't go amiss. Just a few small things to brush things up).

3. Allude to Rey's lineage.

* Make it clear that Kylo is lying about the "sold for drinking money" thing in TLJ (That way the audience knows that something is missing here. Snoke could also make thought or comment about Rey's dark nature (like Luke did) and that's why he wants to kill her (combined this with what is stated about Palpatine earlier, and now a plotline is actually established).

4. Everything that was established in TLJ reshoot...make relevant in the TROS re-shoot.

* More Knights of Ren. Fake Palpatine expalination.....honestly this one was such a mess most of the content could be cut and replaced....I dunno...I ran out of steam for this post.

....I know so far only a reshoot of TROS is being talking about (for the most at least)...but we could really use work for both.

[missixo]

St Balderich Slays the Dragon [8/19]

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 (on tumblr)

This fic (on AO3)

Pairing: Balderich/Mondatta

Summary:  The humans are right to fear omnics and what they can do. What he can and will do to humanity. He is Jörmungandr, and he will see humanity fall.

St Balderich Slays the Dragon

Chapter 8

MD catches up with Broom more after returning to his office, settling into his new chair that they stole out of a storage room. They shrug and wave off his concerns. “It was collecting dust, figured none of the doctors would miss it.”

He laughs and nudges over the examination stool, an invitation for his friend to sit down. “I fully appreciate your pragmatism in this, I promise. Have you been able to find the part for Ozzie’s foot yet? You must be able to afford it by now, even on an omnic supervisor’s pay.” The thoughts of how little he and other omnics make compared to human counterparts almost sour his mood, but he chooses not to focus on it - for the moment. ‘Pay gaps won’t be an issue too much longer if I get my way.’

They take the seat with a small sigh from their vents, relaxing worn pistons and joints after two days on shift. “Still hunting. It’s a delicate part, and she’s an older model, so even the knock-offs are pricey. I’m looking at other options at this point; can’t get much more expensive than it is now.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out. Let me know if you need anything; I’m not the greatest at holding on to cash at the moment, but I’ve still got something in the bank.”

After Broom and his team are gone, MD spends the next two days getting settled in, putting his personal effects where he wants them, and in general rearranging the room as equipment is brought in. Each piece shrinks the space further and further, until it’s down to something he feels he can manage. It becomes a little cramped if any three Crusaders try to come in at once, but the limitation only makes it more his space and less open to invasion.

***

Miracle of miracles, Balderich gets no complaints about the new medic for a whole three days after the... memorable introduction. Of course, the first complaint he hears isn’t official by any means, simple lunchtime conversation, but that doesn’t make him any less concerned when he hears Andrea further down the table, rubbing his arm where a small bruise is blooming around an injection site.

“It’s got all the charm you’d expect from an omnic. I don’t sit perfectly still, and the thing sees fit to hold me down like an unruly child!”

It. Thing. A small slip, but massive for the implications. The words immediately reduce the omnic to lesser - something hardly worth anything, disposable and entirely replaceable without note. Balderich grits his teeth. He requested the omnic because he has a personality; it’s not the best one by a long shot - he’s so far prickly on a good day, and Balderich doubts they’ve seen a bad day yet.

“Andrea, a moment with me?” He makes a beckoning gesture.

“Yes sir.” The Italian is clearly confused, but follows him outside the mess hall. “Sir?”

Balderich speaks low, knowing this is not going to be well received, more so than censure usually is. “I know you are not particularly fond of omnics, but please. He is your medic, not a toaster, and not one of those rust buckets that try to shoot us. I know he is not the most pleasant individual, but that does speak to his individuality. He has an identity, and I am asking you to respect that. Are we clear?”

Andrea swallows, looking like he just sucked a lemon. “Yessir. May I be dismissed, sir? I would like to finish my lunch while it’s still warm.”

“Dismissed.” He follows Andrea after a minute, intent on finishing his own lunch even though his appetite is suddenly gone.

***

MD hits the BX for some rags and cleaner so he won’t have to constantly bother Broom and his crew for basic cleaning, but when he gets there he realizes he still needs a decent set of curtains for the windows and a privacy sheet for his cot… The space is rather plain at the moment… A new plant wouldn’t go amiss either.

He stops himself at the curtains and sheet, plus three small plants, and some cord to make a hanging planter. So much for money management there.

***

Jörmungandr checks his security feed for the fourth time in twenty-four hours the next day between patient check-ups. There has to be a way he can get back inside without having to walk through the middle of the hospital. He’s just missing something… He wasn’t necessarily close to getting to the fifth floor yet, even when he was outright living at the hospital, but now it’s so much harder with the fact he has to get in the damn building in the first place.

He’s just starting to look for other points of ingress when MD’s next patient comes in to review his medical file and he has to back out of the feed again. Back to updating medications, taking blood samples, and scheduling booster shots. Code-rotting boredom is what this job is.

***

Two days after he tempts fate once again - ‘I really need to stop doing that.’ - MD is woken by an alert on his HUD and banging on the medbay door accompanied by shouting. He pulls up the notice before he reaches the door and freezes, standing in the middle of the room.

THE CRUSADERS’ BARRACKS NOW UNDER QUARANTINE DUE TO POTENTIAL H3N2 FLU OUTBREAK.

ALL CRUSADERS ARE TO REPORT TO MEDICAL UNIT MD-8178 FOR EVALUATION AND RISK ASSESSMENT.

QUARANTINE WILL REMAIN ACTIVE UNTIL MEDICAL UNIT MD-8178 DECLARES RISK OF INFECTION SPREADING: NEGLIGIBLE.

… He just woke up. But he opens the door and tries to talk over them - difficult enough when they’re all calm - getting progressively louder, “If you would all get in a single file line, I will run the assessments as quickly as - I need you all to quiet - Just get in a line and -”

Ok. He’s not putting up with this, his day is starting great enough already. He ramps up the volume and gives them a lovely feedback shriek for a perfect five seconds. Next, a moment to let their ears stop ringing... “Get in a single file line and I’ll figure out which of you were dumb enough to get sick and bring this quarantine down on all of us. When your exam is complete, go wait in your quarters until I issue the results. No one is to be wandering the corridors during this time. You get caught, you go on report, and you will get caught.”

***

As he takes temperatures and checks for other symptoms, he revisits Hell Week and wants to strangle the omnic of almost three months ago. He’s still catching the fallout, unbelievable. Most of the organic bastions keep quiet, and he does end up checking that no one has any ruptured eardrums. An airhorn might have been kinder, but convenience and hindsight and all that. One or two still give him nasty looks - particularly that Italian - but there are witnesses so he counts himself safe enough.

He saves Balderich for last. “Colonel, provided you are not one of the possibly-infected, I think I will bring the list to you in your quarters and have you inform the men about who will be under stricter quarantines.”

He looks at him oddly. “Any particular reason why?”

“Because I need them as cooperative as possible, and they will take the idea of being confined to quarters for several days much better if it isn’t coming from an… from me. Turn your head, I need to check your eardrums.”

Balderich watches the omnic out of the corner of his eye. “... You are scared of us.”

MD hums, a note of ‘duh’ tucked in the sound. “I am am omnic living surrounded by men whose careers boil down to destroying omnics. I understand one phrase for such a situation is ‘sleeping in the lions’ den.’ Your eardrums appear to be undamaged, send me a note if you notice any sudden changes in balance, or a ringing in your ears, and I’ll come check on you in quarters.” MD turns away to dispose of the cap on the otoscope when a hot, heavy hand wraps tight around his forearm.

An automatic response to unexpected restraint kicks in and curls his fists tight, otoscope creaking under the pressure. His head swings around, looking for the delicate bone at the temple as his target. Balderich is just sitting there, relaxed except for the hold on his arm. MD warily lowers his unrestrained hand and drops the now destroyed tool in the bin with a hollow clank of metal on plastic. “Colonel, what exactly are you playing at?”

“This is why I requested you for our medic.”

“What? Why?” Requested him? Because he’s willing to crush his skull under threat?

The insane human has the audacity to shrug at him. “You don’t respond like most of the omnics on base. You have personality. What you just did in response to my actions is very similar to what a human would do.”

‘Well that’s just rude.’

“I requested you because I am worried my men are forgetting that - while they are, yes, protecting humanity - we are fighting for our way of life, which includes omnics like you. Some of them have come to think that all omnics should be destroyed, for safety, but if we did that every time part of a group became a threat to the world, most of my men’s grandparents would never have been born, after the Wars over a century ago. We would be in eastern France or western Poland right now - maybe even southern Denmark - instead. I understand that you are scared, but please do not let it stifle you.”

They sit there for a few minutes, looking at each other, evaluating. MD slowly relaxes his other fist in Balderich’s grip as fans kick on and a few small vents pop open. Balderich is watching the light from the window play on pale metal when the omnic lets out a strange sound - ‘Was that a squeak?’ - as he finally responds, rushed, “Thank you, Colonel, but I need to get these results together. I’ll bring them by your quarters later.”

He’s very quickly ushered - pushed, really - out and the door shuts behind him, the tint on the inset window going totally opaque. He stares at the probably-locked door, stunned, as he mutters to himself, “What just happened there?”

[sunset-wishes-upon-hill]

Scent of a Human Chapter I (Batman FF)

A/N: I’m very sure you’re all surprised to see the title. Well, I have written them a year ago but never uploaded them on anywhere until today. This story features an OC and it’s another time/dimensional travelling fic! This time to Gotham! This FF is based on Nolan-verse Batman movie. Random upload but for some reason, I was like I wanna share this with others.

It wasn’t easy building a new life from the ground in a world you didn’t exist. From the beginning, the fate has been against her. She had no idea how she came to be in this world, a world that should have stayed, in utmost logic, fictional. She was 24 when she found herself lost in what she soon came to realise, Gotham. Two years has passed and it was the most difficult, arduous two years she’ll probably experience in her life. She had nothing other than a small backpack on her back and in the bag was her wallet, phone, key, few snacks and a water bottle. Thankfully her money was genuine enough to be accepted by the stores and cheap motels, but her cards she later found out the hard way, were ‘fraudulent’.

The little money she had on her didn’t even last her a full week and soon ended up on the street, begging for spare changes until a homeless charity worker found her rough sleeping in the alley next to the trash cans. She had been on the street for approximately six months or so, approximate because she didn’t really keep up with the time she’s been here. She didn’t want to move from the small area of street she claimed, a home she could call ever since she lost her first one. They half forcibly took her from her safe corner because she was young and hadn’t been on the street for a long time and more importantly, she was a young female. Being a young female in the street was a disaster waiting to happen, and she was grateful the most closest danger she got to was an assault. A fellow rough sleeper stole her bag and can of money she made on that day and he was more concerned with taking what she had than taking a step further.

“What is your name?” A kind looking woman asked in a gentle tone, “How old are you?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she burst into loud cry. Crying, it seemed, was an everyday occurrence for her. She’d cry several times a day, whether she was eating, sleeping, doing nothing thinking of her life she had in her world, she had a job, her parents, two lousy but close brother and sister. She had something. It wasn’t much, but still she had something.

“Please help me.” She managed out in trembling tone.

The woman, taking her plea for help at face value, rubbed a hand down her arm in gesture meant to be soothing.

“Don’t worry, we’re here.”

“Anne?”

The hostel she was assigned in also had a mental health centre where group of clinicians would visit once a week to those in need. They suspected she had depression or some sort of mental health and had persuaded her to take part in group and one-to-one counselling session offered by the charity. She refused at first, counselling session required that both the client and therapist be truthful to each other which she absolutely cannot unless she want to be institutionalised. Not that she had anything to lose from being institutionalised; she’ll have a roof over her head, warm three meals a day, healthcare and somewhere permanent at least.

“Give it a try, Anne.” Emma, the woman who found and brought her in, grinned, “Everything you say would be confidential and having someone to talk to would be good for you.”

She didn’t know how she actually agreed to it, everything seems to happen in a blur to her these days but she was sitting with a doctor who could not have been much older than in the sofa who with glasses that framed his piercing blue stares that regarded her like a new specimen brought into his lab. She wasn’t much fan of Batman comic or movies or materials related to it, but she had seen the movies to realise who the man standing in front of her with the face of the familiar actor whose notable feature were his ocean blue eyes.

She couldn’t remember the actor’s name but she repeated inwardly that this man was not the actor, but a character who wore his face and a very different man.

“Hello, Miss. Reyes.” He gave her a smile that was supposed to make her comfortable but it didn’t reach his cold eyes and his smile was icy and impersonal, “I’m Dr. Jonathan Crane, please take a sit.”

He gestured to a small armchair in front of him and Anne took a step back.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.” She said, feeling like a child who decided to be brave and offered herself to be vaccinated first among her peers only to falter at the sight of the needle that was more painful-looking than she had expected.

There was that smile again, she noted as he leaned back and said, “I understand you must be feeling much distress–“ Oh you have no idea “–and perturbation from your recent experience but that is why I am here. Please, Miss. Reyes, sit down.”

This only wanted to make her run and disappear into the street. But something about his imposing stares and overall unnerving presence seemed to force her down into the armchair albeit with great reluctance.

He flicked through a folded paper tucked in the file before glancing up at her, “Before we begin, I want you to know that anything you or I say in this room will remain confidential. The only circumstance where I must disclose the information is if I must uphold my duty to protect and care for you and others or when consulting colleague provided that I first obtain your permission to do so and I will do my best to conceal your identity and any associated parties involved. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“There isn’t much information about you, is there?” He gestured to the thin paper he held up.

The only thing she had given them was her name, age and earliest known month she remembered seeing in the newspaper while she was still on the street. She had no IDs and because of that, she had nearly been denied the shelter, but because there was greater risk for her out in the street, which made her a priority, they had taken her in although what must be done after was much more difficult, if not impossible. Like trying to find a permanent accommodation, background check or open a bank account, or applying for any government benefit she could be eligible for; the list was endless. She was a dead woman, but even a dead woman had some sort of record of her life if one dug for it. She was a non-existent dead woman.

Emma assured her that this was a common problem amongst her clients, that people like her were ‘pseudo-citizens’ because they had little to no proof that they actually existed on paper or system.

He closed the file, “Shall we discuss more about you before I do any assessment? It’s said that you cannot remember where you lived and that your IDs has been stolen, correct?”

She nodded.

“When is the earliest memory you have that you can remember?”

“…Six months ago.”

“When you first started rough sleeping?”

She nodded.

“Do you remember sustaining any head injuries prior to your memory loss? Any sign that you may have sustained such wounds, such as sensitivity in the skull area? Repeated episode of vomiting? Sudden bruising or swelling around the eyes or behind ears? Loss of hearing or double visions?”

Anne paused to think, it’d be easier for him to think she had amnesia from the injury. She nodded.

“What symptoms have you experienced?”

“Vomiting, umm..double visions, my head felt sensitive for few days like I’ve bumped it somewhere.”

He jotted down into his notepad.

“And where were you when you’ve noticed the gap in your memory.”

“I was just on the street with my bag.” She said, “I had some money but that ran out so I started to…” She felt her cheeks redden, it wasn’t the most dignifying thing to say you were homeless, “..Sleep rough.”

“And in your bag, what was in there?”

“My wallet and my phone.”

“And you had some form of IDs in your wallet before it was stolen?”

She nodded.

“Was there a driving license?”

She nodded.

“And in that, there was your picture with name and your date of birth?”

She nodded.

“There should have been your house address there as well, do you remember?”

She shook her head after faltering for a moment.

“Why? You must have tried to find your way back home, no?”

“I-I….it was far.”

“How far?”

“I couldn’t afford it.”

“And you can’t remember the address.”

“I forgot. I’m not good at remembering.”

“Before your head injury or after.”

“Even before.” She snapped, “Is this really necessary?”

His eyes slightly narrowed, as if he felt something amiss with her story, “Yes, Miss. Reyes. As your therapist, the only way we can work with each other is if we remain truthful to each other. That means telling me everything you know, and it will be confidential as I assured you in the beginning.”

“I want to go home, but I can’t, OK.” She felt her tears coming, her eyes notably blinking more frequently.

“Why can’t you?”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Anne said, “I’m not even gonna say it because you’ll think I’m crazy.”

“Well, I’m a psychiatrist.” He revealed and something in his eyes sparked, “I’ve seen my fair share of crazy.”

She shook her head in discouragement, “Not like this. Not like mine.”

“Entertain me.”

Anne glued her mouth shut.

She didn’t know how long the time past, glancing over her shoulder to look at the clock that hung facing him. The clock was deliberately positioned in such way that the client could forget the concept of time while they were in a ‘safe zone’ and therapist could covertly glance up at the time to keep track of his next appointment without making the client feel rushed or pressured. It was their job to manage the time and end the session appropriately.

“Is something holding you back?” He asked, ever so patiently, “If you could afford to go back, will you?”

“Of course I’ll go back if I could afford to, but I can’t.”

“What is it that you cannot afford?”

“I don’t even know.” She shrugged, unless there was a hero with magical power that could transport her into her world.

“What is holding you back?”

Anne shrugged once again.

“What are you afraid of?” There was a malicious glean when he said the word ‘afraid’.

“I’m not afraid of anything.”

“It must be something.”

“You won’t understand.” She said, “No one can.”

“Allow me to understand.”

“When does this session finish?”

“That is my job, Miss. Torres. I’m here to listen, not judge.” He had a way with words, Anne admitted, if she weren’t aware of what kind of man he was behind the cool façade, she’d probably open up her deepest fear to him.

“Well, Doctor, you can listen to my silent to the end of session.” Anne tried to relax her stiff form in the armchair, it didn’t help the armchair wasn’t the fluffy one but a very hard, cheap ones made with low quality leather.

She tried to look everywhere but him, his eyes following her movements like a hawk scanning its prey on the ground before swooping down to hook its prey in its sharp beak. Anne wished she could control the seeping nervousness that filled the room, she knew he could feel it because every twitch she made, small smile would form on his lips. He thrived in fear; it was why he did what he did.

Every second was agonisingly slow, much slower than the six months she spent on the street.

“Well, Miss. Reyes, it seems our time is up.”

Her shoulders relaxed notably as he wrapped up the session.

“I think we can schedule our next appointment next Monday, is that alright with you?”

“Thanks but I’m fine.”

“The one that asks for no help is the one that needs help the most. For your sake, I suggest we keep working with each other as we figure out the best way I can help.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“It was nice meeting you, Miss. Reyes.”

She didn’t say anything.