#she is the only one to be saved and it takes herculean effort

[hayanwulf]

WIP game! How to Kill your Dragon

(WIP game)

Click here for the first and second parts of this WIP.

I did not think that so many people would be interested in the dragon fic, so color me surprised.

If you've read the first part, in it Stephen has recently escaped captivity as a dragon and unintentionally killed the Starks.

Aaand if you've read the second part, Stephen's pack is very much aware that he's a dragon, even if he thinks that they don't know.

Here's a snippet of what happens when he finally manages to get back to his hometown after that event at the prison.

-

Peter slowly broke their embrace, shaking his head at Stephen’s words. “You’re hurt,” he said in that same quivering voice, a tentative hand reaching towards Stephen’s throat.

“I’ll be alright,” Stephen said, stopping Peter’s hand.

“Stephen!”

He flinched at Christine’s voice from afar, already preparing to run again. He tried to get Peter to stop leaning on him.

“Peter! Stop him!”

“What!? What is—”

Stephen had extricated himself from Peter, but as he tried to run, Peter grabbed him by the arm and kept him pinned with impossible ease. How and when did his son get that super strength!? Stephen was a dragon, for crying out loud.

“Wait! What’s going on!?” Peter asked in confusion. “Why are you trying to—”

“Stephen!” Christine growled when she had finally caught up to them, then went on to grab Stephen by the shoulders to inspect him from head to toe. “Vishanti, you’re bleeding!”

Stephen sighed in defeat. “Thank you for the diagnosis. I’m aware.”

“Why is your first instinct to run after seeing me when you’re bleeding all over!?” She nagged as she pulled at him to encourage walking. Stephen took a step forward, and almost keeled over from the herculean effort it took him, only saved by Peter. “By the Vishanti, Stephen, when was the last time you ate?”

“A bite or a full meal?” Stephen said and then immediately bit his tongue.

“A full meal!” Christine said incredulously as she and Peter came to his side to support him.

Stephen pointedly decided to not answer, letting the two of them help him walk and not faceplant himself on the ground. “Running was much easier just a minute ago..” Of course it was, because adrenaline.

Christine continued to nag him throughout the short journey to his home. He deemed it wise to just take it all without complain.

Lancelot barked at him as they neared his house.

When they were in front of his house, Levi leapt out of literal sky, landed near his feet, and started meowing loudly, rubbing herself against Stephen’s legs and almost making him trip thrice in the process.

Stumbling through the doors and halls, Stephen finally let himself fall on his bed, taking a deep sniff of the blankets and pillows that smelled like himself and Peter.

“Peter, can you get me some cotton, and sage and calendula extract?” Christine requested as she sat herself down next to Stephen and started to undo the cloth tied around his throat. “And water for him.”

Peter left to fetch her the things, while Stephen just laughed self-deprecatingly. “It won’t work,” he told her.

“Why?” She frowned, inspecting his gash, no doubt noticing the bleeding persisting through his sutures.

“It’s a week old.”

Christine’s eyes widened. “What!? Stephen..”

“It should have closed. Yes, I know. I’ve tried everything, it won’t even start clotting. It won’t heal at all. It’s placed some kind of curse on me.”

Christine had a conflicted look on her face, until it just melted into sadness, her eyes glinting with unshed tears. “Oh, Stephen.” She took one of his hands in hers, gently massaging the scars on its back.

Stephen found himself responding to the calming gesture and wrapped his fingers around hers, before sliding his wrist scent gland against hers. “You’re not going to ask me what happened?”

She pursed her lips, eyebrows still stricken with pain. “Do you want me to?”

Stephen blinked. He hadn’t expected such a reply. “I—I meant, aren’t you curious how I got myself into this?”

She inhaled a shaky breath through nose, exhaled through parted mouth. “It’s not about whether I’m curious. It’s about whether you’re ready to share.”

That, Stephen had not expected to hear at all.

No, he wasn’t ready.

And now, he would never be ready to reveal to anyone close to him, that he was the same dragon that had murdered the Starks.

He averted his gaze and looked away in shame.

[coldbaltblue]

Oh hey, I wrote a fanfic.

Pairing: Leon x Luis (Leon is FTM trans)

Rating: 18+!!! There is SEX, DO NOT TOUCH THIS WITH A TEN FOOT POLE IF YOU ARE NOT 18!!

Themes: Light oral sex, PiV sex, breeding, slight size difference, and implied bromance. I suck at labeling, there’s comedy and a bit of fourth wall breaking.

Terms used to refer to anatomy are based on pornography: Cock, Pussy. If that’s not your thing, I suggest moving along.

A Bit of Bromance on the Road

Continuing his rescue mission in Spain, Leon S. Kennedy stumbled upon a strange man named Luis Serra. Luis was a bit of a cocky asshole, and Leon didn’t trust him at first. However, he is much further along in his journey and has taken a liking to Luis’ softer and more likeable side. Leon reunited with Luis in a mine-shaft below the castle. However, he was becoming too tired to walk.

“Oi Leon, you okay?”, Luis said with concern.

“I’m fine, just gotta hurry up and find Ashley.” Leon replied, eyes fixated on the way ahead. He began to stumble, but was caught by Luis before he fell to his knees. Luis’ hands landed on his firm chest and abdomen, which caused something he’d been keeping down to stir in him. He looked up back at Luis.

“Thank you.” he said with hoarseness in his voice.

“You need to rest, man.” Luis said.

“No, no time for rest.” Leon croaked out.

“Senor, your body clearly isn’t taking your ‘no’.” Luis replied. He helped Leon over to the glowing purple flame nearby. This was always a beacon of hope, a strange man in a trench coat was always there to sell wares, buy Leon’s junk, and fix his weapons. As well, he ran a shooting range that seemed to be some pocket dimension he could just carry with him. Just go with it, trust me bro.

“Got some good things on sale, str- oh my.” The merchant said. Luis nodded at the man as he walked Leon over to the door of the shooting range. There were comfy chairs and food in there, as well as the fact that it was a more comfortable environment. He let Leon down in the elevator with a big huff.

“Oye, *huff* you are one *huff* big Yanqui.” Luis said, catching his breath. He pushed the button and the elevator went down. Leon’s eyes were already getting tired, barely staying open. Luis knew that his state wasn’t a result of the plaga, rather, it was genuine exhaustion from all he had been through. Leon had spent days awake on this campaign, only for his objective to constantly slip out of his grasp. Poor Ashley had been carted around like terrified cattle while he’d moved mountains to try and save her. Once again, she was out of his sight, and that terrified him to no end, however, his body was giving into its natural need for sleep.

Using all the bro power he could muster, Luis hauled Leon’s deadweight into the room and clumsily laid him out like a marionette on one of the loveseats. Leon was fast asleep at this point, drooling and completely limp. Luis sat down in the opposite chair, recovering from his herculean effort. He sat there for a moment and just watched Leon sleep, his silky blonde hair slightly concealing his visage, his normally tight, burly body melting into the surface that held him, and his chest rising and falling rhythmically. Not even a gunshot would wake that man up at this point, but Luis couldn’t help but feel the vulnerability coming off of him. He looked so tender and holdable in that state, which caused Luis to think about his feelings.

After a seemingly indefinite amount of time, sitting in the carnivalesque room which could have been detached from their known plane of existence, Luis stood up and approached Leon. He crouched beside the sleeping man and pushed his hair to the side, gently, so as to not wake him. He now had a full view of Leon’s beautifully sculpted face, complete with perfect cheekbones, cute little moles, deep-set eyes, and a forward pointing nose. Luis had a twinge of guilt in him, but his curiosity was beginning to get the better of him. His fingers moved to touch the soft, plush skin of Leon’s face; it nearly felt like touching velvet. He felt his heart beginning to pick up in pace as well as his breathing get heavier, but the most noticeable thing was that his pants were beginning to feel a bit tight. Not good.

Leon’s eyes began to open, and eventually focused to see Luis sitting in the chair in front of him with his legs crossed.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” Luis said with a smirk. Leon sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“Wha-how long was I out for?” Leon said in a groggy daze. Luis just shrugged his shoulder, but refused to make eye-contact with Leon. “What?”

“Uhh, nothing? You need a few more moments?” Luis said, a bit of shake in his voice. Leon raised his eyebrows, but began to stand. “W-wait! Don’t you want to shoot a few pirates before we head out?”

“I am on a mission here; I can’t just stop and play games.” Leon said. “Why aren’t you moving?”

Luis knew he was losing this battle, so he uncrossed his legs, made a disappointed face, and gestured to his bulging pants. “There, happy?”

“You seriously don’t want to get moving because you have a boner?” Leon said, staring back motherfuckerly. He couldn’t take his eyes off of it, not only because Luis was pointing to it, but because he could see it had some size to it. Leon averted his eyes, but his face began to flush a bit.

“Leon?” Luis said. Leon shook his head and turned around, ready to walk into the elevator, but halfway through his walk, he stopped, turned back, and approached Luis, who was also ready to get up. He put his hand on his chest and came closer.

“Fine. We’ll take a break.” Leon said, not looking into Luis’ eyes. “Can I?” he didn’t finish the sentence.

Luis paused for a moment. “Yes.”

Leon then undid the belt and zipper on Luis’ jeans, sliding them down. There was only one more barrier separating him from seeing Luis’s big cock. Precum had already started soaking the fabric at the highest tip. Leon’s breathing began to pick up, his hot breath grazing Luis’ covered member. He then pulled them down to reveal it, and boy was it big. Luis himself was only about half Leon’s size when it came to muscularity, but he was packing some serious heat, and not just in his holster. With desire and nervousness, Leon’s tongue contacted the caramel-coloured shaft. Luis felt an instant jolt of pleasure wave through his body, swelling him up even more.

“Oye, that’s good…” Luis said.

Leon didn’t respond, he simply kept licking up and down the shaft, warming up to the act. He wanted this so badly, but couldn’t have it for obvious reasons. He felt arousal stirring up in himself; he felt his nipples grow hard underneath his spandex shirt, and his blood rushed to all the vital areas in his body. He felt a tingling sensation in his pussy, which is the first indicator that he was getting wet and ready for sex.

He stopped for a moment and started taking off his harnesses and holsters. He pulled off his shirt, pants, and underpants, revealing his large, sculpted body adorned with a swollen, fleshy mound between his legs. Leon was quivering he was so aroused.

“I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me with all you’ve got.” Leon said with seriousness.

“But Leon, I don’t have a condom.” Luis replied with worry.

“Just do it. Breed me.” Leon said.

With that, Luis stood up and took his pants off completely. His hard cock was now pointing directly at Leon as he laid back and spread his legs. Luis mounted on top of him and pushed the tip of his cock at Leon’s entrance. Leon let out a small gasp, he was so ready. Luis then pushed inside, sending waves of pleasure shooting up Leon’s spine, causing him to bite his lip.

Luis picked up the pace, fucking him in mating-press position, his wet cock being gripped as it pumped in and out of Leon’s wet, swollen pussy, his balls bouncing up and down. Leon was being absolutely shaken by this, deep, penetrating pulses of pleasure rising and rising as he bottomed out.

“Dios mio, I’m cumming!” Luis exclaimed. Leon then wrapped his strong legs around Luis’ waist and squeezed him with the grip of an anaconda, forcing him to penetrate as deep as possible.

“Nnnhhh, ahhh!!” Leon exclaimed as he came. His entire body quivered, pulsated, and spasmed. Luis’ cock throbbed inside of him as cum began to leak out between the cracks of the contact they’ve made. Luis pulled out, allowing more thick, white cum to pour out of Leon. The men panted as they rode out their orgasms, with Luis collapsing on Leon’s big body.

“Ho.ly. shit.” Leon said. Luis just nodded back at him.

“Ehm, I hate to interrupt your bonding experience, but don’t you two have a lady to save?” a familiar, cockney accent chimed in from the intercom.

With semen still spilling out of him, Leon quickly dressed himself again, running for the elevator.

“Hey! Wait for me!” Luis scrambled through the closing doors as he held up his pants and fumbled with his belt.

[unclevladscorner]

Letting Go of The Boy Who Lived: Moving on from Harry Potter and Why I wish everyone else would, too.

This is going to be a little bit of a long post. We all know JKR has said- and still says- some pretty horrible things about trans people. While I think that's a good enough reason to no interact with her or her work, that's not my main focus here.

If you don't read this whole thing; and haven't read a Harry Potter book or watched a movie, I'd say don't start. There's better out there. The Magicians goes harder, but has similar themes. There's also A Series of Unfortunate Events and the Percy Jackson books, if your looking for a longer YA series from around the same era.

I discovered Harry Potter at a time of big changes in life. It was the end of my senior year of high school, I'd broken up with an abusive boyfriend and I had nowhere to go on my lunch break anymore.

It was also 2002, and only 8 months after 9/11. The world was changing rapidly around me-literally and figuratively- and I needed a little escape. Before I even graduated, I had read the first three books and I was desperate to read the fourth.

There was a lot to like, at first. As a child who grew up in an abusive and neglectful household, I related to Harry's struggles a lot. The desire to just be a normal kid was something he valued much more than anything else, and being a kid who went to a wizard school was just a fun bonus for him. Harry was just a normal kid besides- he is able to come out of his shell and; for the first time in his life, he is able to enjoy his time at school as he is not really considered strange... except for the fact that he's the Boy Who Lived.

As the books go on, the world were given a peek into begins to lose it's shine. There's chattel slavery of humanoid races pretty early with the house elves, then there's the extremist Pure Blood wizards- many of which follow Voldemort- who'd intimidate, harm and kill children to keep them from receiving and education and mixing with the general wizard population.

As Voldemort is resurrected, things become difficult for our heroes, and fascist wizards take over the Ministry of Magic. Other wizards seems oddly content to either live like nothing is happening, or hide until their Chosen One saves them. Adults become unreliable to a fault; and with herculean effort, Harry and the gang finally defeat the evil Voldemort.

But then... nothing really happens. The world goes right back to the way it was- none of our heroes seem to seek any more justice or reform for any of those they saw hurt or abused once their journey is concluded. Everyone falls into their respective places within society and never seem to question the status quo again.

This course of events says two things to me- That JKR believes Social Justice to be a 'young person thing', and that she probably believes that grassroots efforts cannot effect lasting systemic change.

So, what else is there to do except to get on with it?

There's also the pervasive nihilism that grows stronger as the series goes on. Former allies fall in line with the ruling party; begrudgingly or otherwise, abandoning the young people to their fate. Many witches and wizards won't pick a side, and either pretend nothing is happening or go into hiding. There are only a handful of people willing to fight and many of these rebels are brutally killed or imprisoned.

Defeating Voldemort also does not change the structure of wizard society. It does not change that sentient magical humanoids and those born to magical families without powers are forced into a subclass by the rest of magic wielding society. It doesn't seem to change the fact that there are wizards who believe they should control the whole world, and not just the fates and lives of those within the wizarding community.

As I've gotten older and queerer; and JKR has gotten richer and louder, it's made a body of work riddled with covert and overt racism, homophobia, and weirdly pro-slavery bend harder and harder to like.

At the end of the day, there is just no good reason to invest my money in something that inevitably tells kids and young adults to fall in line after their done protesting and questioning authority.

All done with your fun little Social Justice Adventure? Time to be a Real Adult and stop asking questions!

As a queer and transgender person- literal heroes of my time died fighting intentional misinformation, and purposeful governmental mismanagement of the AIDS pandemic (Big Shout out to Ronald Reagan! The Real Villain of our timeline.) They marched while sick, made art, held 'die ins' in churches and government buildings, sued the government, gathered and distributed reliable information on how to combat AIDS through safer sex and safer drug use practices.

There are too many to list here. Many names no one outside the community has even heard. Many more we don't even know. A made up little boy in a book just isn't as important to me as those often nameless people- people who literally fought and died so that I could be The (Trans)Boy Who Lived.

I will not disrespect the memories of those who came before me by putting money in the pocket of someone who actively hates both them and myself. I will not spend any more time thinking about her or the sad little world she's created.

I'm asking you to do the same.

[sticks-and-souls]

Before You Go

aka Rex Coming to Terms With Ahsoka Leaving the 501st After The Wrong Jedi Arc

AO3 link here, full oneshot below:

Rex’s footsteps echoed heavily down the hall as he stormed through their temporary barracks on Coruscant. It was supposed to have been run of the mill. The men get a week or two of down time while General Skywalker and the Commander take care of this bombing investigation for their Council. But now…

Now…

He took a shaky breath and turned down a corner, completely on autopilot. He felt so angry that it was like his heart, his blood, and everything inside him had turned into lava and the only way it wasn’t all spilling out of him was because he was clenching his jaw so tightly. 

The itch burning through him to fucking do something to fix this was completely at odds with the absolute truth that there was nothing to be done. They had cleared her of charges. She was still choosing to leave. With a herculean effort, he reined himself in from slamming his fist dead into the wall of the corridor. 

He couldn’t do anything to fix it because what needed to be done was to turn back the clock and make this entire debacle not have happened in the first place. He closed his eyes as regret bled into the liquid rage coursing through him. How many times in his short life had he wished for a do-over on how something had played out? And now, like all those times, all that was left was to deal with the fallout instead. 

He clenched his teeth harder. And apparently, part of that fallout included him being batshit out of his mind. 

His swirling thoughts were useless. He was thinking and feeling so many things, all pinging off of one another, that he could process none of them. Nor, he realized bitterly, did he want to. He couldn’t fight this and he didn’t even want to pretend to fight this. The firing range was usually the first place he ended up after losing a soldier. Each bolt blazing across the empty space allowed his brain to focus on something else and pretend that this practice would save everyone next time. And in the meantime, his pain and grief and powerlessness could all swirl around in the background until it settled down enough for him to take it one thought at a time. But every time he considered turning back to the range now, his mind violently rejected the idea outright. He didn’t want to know what he was feeling, it wouldn’t matter to realize who all he blamed for this, he wasn’t interested in discovering why he felt nearly as angry about this as he had been on Umbara. 

He swallowed around a renewed surge of lava that boiled up his throat over that realization, but it was true. And to hell if he was going to give that closer inspection right now. If staying angry let him draw a sheet over those mental boxes that he didn’t want to look inside—one of which was to begin grasping the impossible reality of moving forward in this neverending war without her—then he could just stay fucking livid. Forever, if he had to. Sorry General, since I don’t want to deal with even thinking about going back to the front without her, we have to stay here. Sorry Chancellor, the 501st can’t leave Coruscant without Commander Tano, so we’ll just have to press pause on the war effort. Sorry Separatists, no one showed up to fight today, I guess you’ll just have to do yourselves in. Congrats everyone, Captain Rex just ended the fucking war by being fucking angry. 

He had stopped in the middle of a corridor and when he crawled out of his head to actually get his bearings he realized he was standing in front of her closed door. 

He stared at it, not really seeing it, transfixed by the unblemished gray empty surface. This was the last place he should be. He wanted nothing more than to talk to her and had absolutely no idea what he should say. Besides, how could he ask her to worry about taking care of his feelings on top of her own right now. 

The gray door stared back at him. 

What was he supposed to do without her? What were any of them supposed to do? Skywalker had looked like he was going into shock. 

He should knock. 

No, he should leave.

His limbs refused to move towards either action. 

Would he plead her not to go? 

…

…Did he wish he could leave with her?

Abruptly, he felt like he was falling, like the gray void might consume him, and the anger that he had been gripping to so tightly was suddenly slipping through his fingers. 

He lurched himself into motion, back the way he had come. He was in no condition to talk to her. She probably wasn’t even here. Needles pierced through his gut. What if she had left already?

“Rex.” 

He stopped in place. For the first time since the news had broken, silence descended on his thoughts. 

He looked down at the floor—how had he never noticed how completely gray everything was?—

“I was just leaving,” he said. If he didn’t turn to face her now, would he be able to stay frozen in the times before this horrible week?

“You can come in if you’d like,” she replied and her footsteps receded back into her room. 

He turned around and followed her inside. 

Her back was to him and she was looking down at her limited belongings on the bunk. She had a single bag—non-military issue—but it looked mostly empty. Probably just her change of clothes. She was standing tall but there was a slant to her shoulders, like her spine was stiffly holding all of the rest of her up from wanting to sink beneath the floor.

He set his helmet on the small table by the door. Now that he was looking at her, he wanted to be sure he could drink in every detail: the warm sienna of her skin, the bright striping of her montrals that almost matched the blue of the 501st, the colorful beading—

His brain stopped. Her padawan beads were gone. This was really happening. 

And then she turned to look at him and the absolute loneliness in her expression was like a punch to the gut. 

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. 

In two steps he had reached her and wrapped her up in a tight embrace. 

How could they have done this to her? This incredible and brave and fierce and compassionate young woman. Wasn’t she everything they claimed to uphold? Hadn’t they seen how much she had sacrificed for them? To be like them? Because she believed in what it was to be a Jedi?

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again, not seeming to mind that his armor was probably digging into her.

“No,” he shook his head. “No. You deserved so much more than how they treated you.” 

He could actually feel her squeezing back through the rigid strength of the plastoid. She nodded slightly, then with more momentum, then she was trembling and he realized she must be crying. The room lost focus and he realized he was crying, too. 

It was such a strange contradiction to feel like he had lost her and still be able to hold her close. The knowledge that this was the last time he would see her kept rolling over him but it was such a foreign experience to have a warning like this that his arms clung to her in blatant denial, as if to say “can’t you see she’s right here?”. But before today, they were either both going to survive the war or one of them would die in the blink of an eye first. There had never been a third option until now. Was this better? Should he be grateful that, for once, he was actually getting a chance to say goodbye? 

His chest contracted again and he tightened his hold on her as more tears slid down his cheeks. It would seem that saying goodbye didn’t make loss any easier. She was still about to be completely beyond anywhere he could reach her. 

Her breathing was eventually becoming steadier and he began moving his hand up and down her back, realizing the motion was helping to calm him as well. If this really was the last goodbye then he would make sure she left knowing there were still people who loved her, who would always have her back. 

Deep breath in.

Deep breath out.

At last, she took a step back and dried her face on the back of her hands. Her eyes were puffy and a little glassy when she looked up at him. 

“You can still trust them,” she said, her voice scratchy from crying.

Rex lifted his gaze and looked away, suddenly feeling exposed. It was like she had peered into the swirling thoughts inside his head that he was refusing to identify and easily plucked out the one that mattered the most. She had named his molten anger—accurately—and by doing so, made him powerless to stop it from rising through the cracks that had cooled over the top of it. 

“After this?” he replied, meeting her gaze again. He recognized the rarely-heard defiance in his tone.

A small furrow pinched between her eyebrows. “This war has been so long, and the right course of action is so clouded to see right now. We’re all just trying to do what we think is best.”

And they thought it was best to alienate their own allies? His pulse was rising again. Their own people?

“It’s ok to be angry with them,” she continued, and he barely caught a humorless smile that flickered at one side of her mouth. “But…they are trying to do what is best for the Republic.” 

He sighed. He was starting to think that what was best for the Republic discarded a lot of people in the process. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

She nodded in quiet understanding. “Then maybe… Maybe just trust that you can trust Anakin.” 

Anakin Skywalker. His general. A Jedi, but also…somehow different from them. 

He sighed again but this time more in acceptance. “Ok.” Trusting General Skywalker might be all he could manage right now as far as the Jedi were concerned…but he could manage that. 

“And Rex,” her expression trembled for a second. “It’s also ok for you to be angry at me, too.”

“I’m not. I’m…” he looked down and away, struggling to find the right words. 

“But if sometime later, you find that you are,” her voice began to wobble again, “because you have every right to be—” 

He took a breath to interrupt but she gently put a hand on his vambrace and continued on, in spite of her eyes filling again. “I hope you can remember how very, very sorry I am,” her breath hitched, “because I know you all trusted me to not just leave you.” As her tears spilled over again, he scooped her back into his arms just in time to hear a muffled “And I’m so s-sorry.”

“Shhh…” was all he said, his hand moving soothingly up and down her back again while she cried quietly. Was he angry at her? He didn’t feel like it; there were so many better candidates to assign blame to right now. Her apology echoed through his thoughts. He certainly didn’t want to be angry at her, but did he have a right to be? Beneath all this rage, was he hiding from himself that he was mad at her, too?

Her sobs began to take on a despondent edge that had been absent during their first hug and the answer came easily to him.

“Ok,” he said, leaning his head down closer to her ear. “Ok, I’ll forgive you. Shhhh…” He took a deep breath and felt some of his tension lessen. “I do forgive you.” Because it was easy to. “It’s ok, Ahsoka. We’re gonna be ok.” 

And they could be. For her. They would be extra vigilant knowing she wasn’t there to look out for them on the field. They would remember her strategies, remember her leadership, and look after her general. They could be ok. 

When she sounded like she had regained a bit of control over her emotions, he leaned back slightly so he could look at her without releasing his embrace. “Are you gonna be ok?” he asked, seriously. 

She took a deep, steadying breath while she considered his question, staring at his chestplate without really looking at it. After a moment, she gave a resolute nod. 

He felt another notch of his tension let go and he nodded back, realizing he believed her. He had seen her be independent and strong, but also personable and caring. She would find her path because she had to, and others would help her when she needed it. 

And yet…

“You ever need anything,” he said. “—Anything at all—you comm me. And I’ll…I’ll figure out a way to make it happen. Ok?”

She gave him a wan smile but didn’t say anything.

“Ok?” he said again, with more emphasis and her smile widened. 

“Ok,” she said earnestly, finally reading how sternly he needed her to understand him. After a second, her lips pressed together in a fractional tremor. “You watch your six, ok?”

A half-smile pulled at his mouth, which morphed into a full chuckle when she said “Ok??”

“Ok,” he promised. 

“Be careful,” she whispered. 

“You too,” he said, quietly. 

This was it. He could feel their time was down to seconds left and his thoughts began to scatter at the prospect. Was he supposed to be able to walk away while she was still here and alive? Is that what saying goodbye meant? Leaving when you still actually had time left? How? Why?

What was he supposed to say that would be his last ever words to her? What could possibly encompass everything that she was? That they were to each other?

“May the Force be with you.” He spoke before really realizing it. He’d never said the phrase before, only heard it exchanged, and the words felt funny in his mouth. For a second, he almost regretted it because she looked like she may cry again, but she launched her arms around his neck and he caught her in a final hug. 

“And with you.” She said it with such feeling that he could tell she meant it. She emanated warmth through his gloves and he closed his eyes to commit this feeling to memory.  

He found himself thinking on it later, the smell of ozone crisp as he fired bolt after repetitious bolt into the target at the end of the range. The Force had always been something other—a Jedi thing that didn’t apply to the rest of them—but he found himself hoping her prayer really did extend to him too. He missed her fiercely already, but she didn’t feel gone. If the Force was with them, and she was connected to the Force, did that mean she would still be with them, too? 

The memory of her lonely expression surfaced in his thoughts but it was quickly chased away by the feel of her embrace.

He hoped so.

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

Posting to @officialrexsoka for Rexsoka Week 2022!!! I thought it fit best with Day 3: Exile. Thanks for running the event for us this year and for everyone who participates in this fandom!

[dddragoni-drabbles]

Bitter winds stung the exposed skin around the edges of Paula's goggles as she trudged onward, boots sinking nearly a foot and a half into the still-falling snow. Every step she took was a herculean effort, muscles and lungs screaming for a break she could not afford if she wanted to get out of this alive.

She tightened her grip on the rope tied to the makeshift sledge behind her. Atop it lay the only other survivor of the ill-fated expedition, barely conscious. "I just need a few minutes," Rob mumbled. "Good to go soon..."

Paula ignored what little she could make out over the howling wind. Exhaustion and altitude sickness had rendered Rob almost entirely delirious. She'd had to tie him to the sledge to stop him from tearing his own clothes off, which would have been a surefire death sentence. As tough as he was to handle in this state, it was worse in his rare moments of lucidity.

"Just leave me," he'd murmured weakly as she finished lashing him down. "I'm done for. Save yourself."

Paula had pretended not to hear him. She'd watched too many friends freeze, fall, or vanish into the storm in the last few days. She wasn't about to abandon the only one she had left.

Besides, they were almost to the camp. It was just over this ridge. Or at least the next one. Just one foot in front of the other. That's all it would take.

[ladygoofball]

It might happen again, but call that a Dissonant Whisper. Details for kings only under the cut.

As one of the realest ones that has ever been: I have been gas lit and bullied for a long time. I do appreciate people making Herculean efforts to help me, I am ashamed that I am wasting everyone’s time no matter what I try to do.

Maybe I do need a Superman…but I’m also good to just do that for myself. Thank You Very Much. I had a damned panic attack and ran home to my mom, because I don’t need a new parent. My mom has regularly been the only help I need.

Jim disapproves of the insinuation that he would ever put his daughter on the front lines for danger. Allegedly. I can’t talk to Him anymore, my divine connection broke. I have been crafting my own connection to the divine just fine. Take that as a joke?

I am just scared and tired of being too late to save anything. Every single time I try. I don’t want to waste my time or money on Nothing. I’ve been doing that for months.

Medication and alcohol do not mix well. Especially when I’ve been too anxious to eat because i’m afraid i’ve missed something.

Want a clue? I won’t charge. I swear it on Hyper Reality. Here’s an Oath:

Nobody can hear you much more clearly now.

Oath sworn to secrecy

Call that a cow? I thought it might be a Vow.

I only swear like a fisherman when I feel like I’m being a sow. Pardon that French?

That might just be Fantasy though. Cassandra. Too good to be true.

Signing off for a Psyche break.

Woe is she without Cupid?

Please. You don’t know me.

Yet.

Inanna promises she will never turn Beast against that Beauty (character wise exclusively because fuck all these people right now Your Honor). They make Her sick??

Anonymous submissions welcome. Encouraged. In no explicit terms.

[coolrobotsupremacist]

Over the course of the novel Cosette represents the two groups that are at most risk in society: women and children and the whole through line of the story hangs on saving her and delivering her to a peaceful and happy life. People make jokes “all this for a loaf of bread” but that line in Alladin was making a point about the expense of poverty and a similar point is being made here; all this, all these lives, all these unhappy endings, for one small spark of light. Honestly one of the few times I will accept “think of the women and children” as an argument because a lot of the book is written around it and, yeah, think about the vulnerable, imagine if it didn’t require a 30year+ saga of love, loss and sacrifice to save one small girl from a society that should defend her by default. You go, Mr Hugo, excellent call to action.

[kettouryuujin]

Temporal Static

[Set in @ailingwriter's Post-Rus AU]

Elesa, the Shining Beauty of Nimbasa City (and its Gym Leader), sighed as she plopped on her couch. It had been another long, long day - planning her next fashion shoot, taking on Gym challengers, and of course Emmet.

Just…Emmet.

She’d realized that the Subway Master was…eccentric when she first met him and his brother, Ingo. The eccentricities got even worse when Ingo just up and vanished one day while checking the Unovan subway. It was a Herculean task to keep Emmet from diving headlong into finding his brother, but it’d been a good value for the effort (snrk - effort values). The white-coated man would have likely burnt himself out trying to find his black-coated twin…

Elesa didn’t like thinking about what might have happened in that situation. Not at all.

*Scritchscritch*

UGH, why did she feel so itchy? Her coat had never felt like this before on her, and…ergh. Alright, off it goes for now. Then time to unwind and get ready for the next day.

—-

As the Electric-type specialist arrived at her Gym after a good night's sleep, her thoughts turned back to the Subway Twins.

They’d eventually found out where Ingo had gotten off to - ancient Sinnoh, otherwise known as Hisui. But the history books about that era were… oddly vague. It was probably related to those announcements from the authors about how they had not originally written the content that was currently in the books. The prevailing theory was that something was changing the records after a certain point - likely something on the scale of the Sinnoh Legendaries.

Ironically, this “certain point” being right around when Ingo had apparently shown up hadn’t been Emmet’s biggest concern at the time. Well, it may have been, but him starting to turn into a Galvantua had definitely taken more of their focus.

The only lead they had on these changes was something called “Pokérus.” Not much was known about it: Only that had been introduced into Hisui a few years after Ingo arrived, and that it turned people into giant, feral, overly-aggressive Pokémon.

Fear over what Ingo had gone through had to take a back seat to fear over Emmet’s changes, which were - quite frankly - not pleasant to watch. But thank Arceus, despite the total physical changes Emmet somehow managed to keep his mind. Nobody was exactly sure why or how at the time. The prevailing theory was that he’d managed to get rest, food, and water that may have been harder to get back in Hisui. Which meant, in a way, she’d saved his life by caring for him during those last few moments.

It was either that, or something to do with the fact that he didn’t end up a giant like prior victims. Probably both.

…odd. Was it her, or did it seem like the gym design was slightly different? She couldn’t place a finger on it, but something was…off. Maybe she needed to take a break?

—-

OK, Elesa definitely needed to take a break. As she transitioned from gym duties to model work, she could swear that her stance was off the whole way through. Everyone else claimed she was doing just fine, but their looks and tones belayed their actual opinions. 

It wasn’t easy taking a break on the fly, especially when you had as many duties as she did. Meaning there was one last flurry of activity, making calls and rescheduling events before she could go home. Argh, it was getting a bit tricky to write too…she must’ve been doing really bad. Surprising that it’s all showing up now, though - with all her jobs, she’d gotten pretty good at noticing burnout. It just flaring up like this was something that hadn’t happened since she first started doing double-duty, but then again a lot had been going on lately.

Specifically, since a (normal-sized) Gliscor had been spotted in the train tunnels about a week ago. Reports said that the Gliscor was a bit...weird: Specifically with a nigh-perpetual frown replacing the normal smile, and two strangely familiar bits of fur poking down from behind the ears. That, and the oddly familiar black cap it was wearing. Of course, when Emmet had finally seen the Ground-/Flying-Type, he’d basically glomped the aerial ‘mon because sweet Dragons that was Ingo.

Apparently, the physical changes from the Pokérus were permanent - but the feral mindset had actually been induced by whoever had caused the whole incident in the first place. Some crazed Arceus-obsessed man who wanted to become divinity himself or something? It was weird.

The Legendaries had been more than willing to help the victims adjust, though. For one, the strange rips in space and time that were the actual source of the “disease” still existed in Hisui. But they were far less dangerous, usually only causing stores to lose a few items here and there (usually TMs).

For another, Uxie helped Ingo with the Amnesia he’d suffered since arriving in the past (which everyone agreed was a good idea. It wasn’t like he was getting any stat buffs from it anyways!), while Dialga and Palkia had offered to take him back to his original time.

There was a brief... altercation... when Emmet heard that his brother had originally declined that offer. Emmet’s reaction made sense, though: Ingo had stayed for like a year after the offer had been made! Thankfully, a simple explanation had cleared everything up. Since it was going to be a one-way trip, Ingo hadn’t wanted to leave the Pearl Clan right away. He needed time to settle matters, doubly so since he was a Warden caring for a very important Pokémon - some extinct Sneasel evolution? She hadn’t gotten the details during Emmet’s typed-up summarization.

Still, things had been a bit hectic since Ingo had returned, even ignoring how Gear Station had to close for a couple days for “renovation”. Not only was she helping the twins rearrange their apartment, but she was also busy getting them new coats made. Understandably, there hadn’t been much progression in Pokemon fashion outside of Contests and Performances, where ‘mon like Gliscor and Galvantua didn’t show up often - so that was an uphill battle. At least they’d been able to preserve what had been left of their original coats. 

Anyways. Leave the thinking for tomorrow - she’d gotten home in the time it’d taken to finish those thoughts, so it was time to sleep.

—-

*bzz* *bzz*

“Ugh…I’m awake, I’m awake…” Fumbling with one hand, Elesa picked up her Xtransciever from where she’d left it overnight and checked the screen.

Emmet had messaged her? Huh. More proof that investing in a messaging program for his laptop was worth it (even if it felt like she should sleep for a couple more hours).

‘Elesa! I am Emmet. You need to see the news. Ignore everything else on your schedule until you have.’

Emmet telling her to ignore a schedule? That meant this was huge. Slipping out of bed, the Beauty tugged some clothes on (making sure she looked decent) before turning on the TV. It was already on the news, so that made things easier-

“This is Kevin Brockman for Unova News with a breaking report. Mysteriously, several people have begun changing into Pokémon!”

What.

Slowly the model slid onto the couch, gawking as she processed the anchorman's words. “For more, we take to Katy Jacobs. Katy?”

The scene shifted from the studio to a Pokémon Center lobby filled with worried people. “Thanks, Kevin. I’m here at the Castelia City Pokémon Center, where multiple people have arrived with what are, quite frankly, bizarre changes.”

It went on to show interviews with people sporting feathers, fur, claws, tails, and all sorts of Pokémon parts. The Gym Leader’s mouth slowly opened in shock - how could this be happening? There weren’t any distortions to cause Pokérus, right?!?

As the reporters began to discuss how the changes seemed to be focused along family lines, the couch suddenly decided to push against her butt. Kinda hard. “YOWCH!”

Jumping up and checking said couch, Elesa blinked - there was…nothing different? So how did it…

A gentle swaying sensation was the answer. As she looked behind her, a sense of cold dread washed through her bones because that was undeniably a tail.

“KYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

—-

Elesa had immediately gone to the hospital after the panic attack ended. OK, she was still frantic and Confused, but she wasn’t going to attack herself.

…that would’ve been funnier if she wasn’t turning into…what seemed to be a Luxray? At least going by what the doctor had said. He was hopeful that she’d be alright, given how well Emmet had turned out, but...

Basically, she had half a week of humanity left. And that was being optimistic.

So here she was, standing at the door to the train twins’ place, acting all fidgety and nervous. Hopefully they’d be able to shed some light on things…or…something. She wasn’t sure. Really she just needed to talk to someone, and who better than her best friends? Who had literally gone through this before?

Gently reaching up with a slightly deformed hand, the probably ex-model rapped at the door. “H-Hello?”

“Gil-so!” A couple seconds later, the door was filled with cap-wearing Gliscor. “Gli?” Yeah, she’d told the brothers there wouldn’t be any discussion about the coats today. And…there really wouldn’t be.

As she lowered her hand, yellow eyes caught it in their gaze. “S-SOR!?" Said eyes darted over the rest of her body, taking in the miscellany of changes the model was already dealt. "GLIS!?”

“Gaaaal.” Emmet scurried nearby, chastising his brother for…something. Probably cursing, given the humorous tone - which fled rather fast when he saw her. “V-VAN! Ga…” The pair backed away, letting their scared friend enter the abode.

Meandering to the couch, Elesa almost sat down before remembering that she had a freaking tail now, so she had to sit sideways. It…wasn’t the most comfortable, but it’d work.

*bzz* went the Xtransciever - right, she needed to mute Emmet. The one drawback to that program she'd gotten them - it’d buzz her even when she was right in front of the duo. She’d rather do something closer to normal conversation when visiting. 

‘I am Emmet. You are changing species tracks, Elesa?!’

“Y-yeah, I am…” A shudder. “A-and…it’s kinda scaring me.”

Ingo nodded, chittering something. ‘Ingo says it was the same for everyone back at the Hisui station. And you surely recall how I felt when I discovered this track switch.” The pair shuddered at the memory.

“So sor.”

 ‘...he says you do have a better track than we did, however.’

Elesa let out a sharp, not-really-funny laugh. “Oh? What’s that? Because I kinda can’t see any!!”

The Gliscor just face-clawed, chittering some more. ‘You know you won’t end up feral like he did. No Volo.’ 

“Volo? Oh, right. He's the butthole who started all this back then, wasn’t he?” Nods and sounds of affirmation were all she needed there. “Ergh. Right. So then…”

Several more hours of chatting later, and it was decided that the changing human would stay the night. Her team would be worried, but they didn’t want her walking when her legs could change at any second.

——

There were two items of note the next morning.

One was that, compared to Emmet and Ingo’s changes, Elesa’s weren’t painful at all.

The other?

Ingo: ‘Elesa, is…this actually working?!’

She stared at the message, then to the Xtransciever-wearing Gilcisor. “Yes, Ingo… this is working…”

“G-Gil? Gil! Gi-scor!” ‘I do not believe this! For such a function to appear overnight is… is as likely as a train falling into Hisui!’

On that, everyone agreed. Since when did Xtranscievers have a voice-to-text function that 1) worked perfectly, and 2) translated Pokéspeech?! Not to mention 3) come in a size that fit a Gliscor?!

Emmet: ‘I am Emmet. This track we have been placed on is growing more and more confounding. www.unovanews.pke/article/XtransDelay’

A tap on the link (with a claw that formed overnight) pulled it up. Wait, when could Xtranscievers pull up links like this?

That question was soon banished upon reading the article. It wasn’t about a delay in a new Xtransciever model. It was about how, for some reason, the Xtransciever had apparently been released in 2012 instead of 2010? The model clearly remembered doing a show for the company as part of a 2011/2013 anniversary special, though. 

Apparently, the company agreed with her. Everyone from executives to line workers were mystified about how this change had taken place. “‘I would call it a hack’, said CEO Mayers, ‘if it wasn’t for the sheer totality of the changes. Even un-networked files are reflecting this new need for accessibility!’”

And that was the apparent reason for the delay - a need to increase how accessible the Xtranscieverwas. Not only that, but to have it function almost like a Pokédex or RotomPhone - not in identifying Pokémon, but in serving as more of a miniature computer. (On a related note, apparently RotomPhones no longer really existed? The phones did still, but not the whole “it’s meant for a Rotom” bit).

I: ‘This is…quite astonishing, brother. Do you have any idea why reality is suddenly switching tracks?’

Em: ‘I am Emmet. I have no idea why this track change is happening, or why it is so verrry drastic.’

Mjfqbse:’Da heck are you guys talking about?’

Em/I/Elesa: EgaR4rha3tHDSw4tgr

I: ‘Who are you and what are you doing in this chat?’

Mjfqbse: ‘...Sis added me? C’mon, you guys remember back when we got these…’

El: ‘Everyone but you, unfortunately. -.-’

Mjfqbse: ‘...Els, this isn’t funny. You have to remember, right?! Back when you had evolved?’

Em: ‘I am Emmet. You are the one not being funny.

…odd. I cannot find any pictures of Elesa as anything but partly changed.’

Mjfqbse: ‘Part- Hey! We hatched from the same egg, thank you very much!’

El: ‘...you…do know I was born human, right? So please, just cut it ou-’

And suddenly a Liepard’s face was filling the screen. Everyone jumped back at the transition to group call as the felid began ranting on who was joking with who (thank you captions). However, when her gaze fell on Elesa, she suddenly stopped.

Familiar eyes locked with the human's own before darting up and down the screen. “...I…Who are you and why do you have Elesa’s Xtrans?!?”

“That is Elesa. Surely if you knew us you could recognize her, even with a different coat of paint,” Ingo chittered.

“No. Nononnono. That can’t be right. That CAN'T be right!” The feline’s wide, panicked eyes went to one corner as she seemed to be flicking through…something. “W-What in the world is up with these pictures! You…I…” One such image was promptly sent to the group, and Elesa recognized it: It was the picture she’d taken to commemorate becoming Nimbasa City’s Gym Leader!

But at the same time, it wasn’t. In the picture before her, Elesa looked about as inhuman as she currently was - spotty blue and black fur, tail, flat paws for feet, sharp claws for nails, and the beginnings of a muzzle. But perhaps more shocking was how a younger-looking Liepard was also in the picture, holding Elesa close as if they’d known each other for…

For…

For as long as the train boys had known each other.

The soon-to-be-ex-human let out a cry of shock, which soon became a sparking yelp as her ankles raised up, moving into a more digitigrade position. Thankfully Ingo was there to catch her, but the shock returned twofold when she looked back at the picture.

The Elesa in the picture was now leaning on the still-human Ingo. Looking near the bottom of the image, she could see that her feet were also propped up in an animalistic position.

“...What the-” 

“Language!”

“-is going on!?” And apparently, this cat had a bit of a pottymouth. Although being censored with a voice clip of pre-Hisui Ingo calling his brother out for cursing was definitely new.

…and honestly made sense. The brothers were well-known enough for that kinda thing.

—-

Like usual, the news had the answers. But it wasn't in a way anyone expected.

“Kevin Brockman here with an update to yesterday’s breaking news. These bizarre transformative phenomena have been confirmed globally. Furthermore, it appears that it is not just people that are changing. Katy Jacobs is on-scene with details. Katy?”

The scene changes to Elesa’s apartment, where the changing Elesa and the Liepard are both standing. The scenery wasn't the same as a normal apartment, looking more suited for a quadrupedal lifestyle than anything. In the background, Elesa’s team is out of their balls, staring suspiciously at the Dark-Type. 

“Thanks, Kevin. I’m here with Nimbasa City Gym Leader Elesa, and the Liepard who is - get this - her twin sister.” The Liepard in question opens their mouth as if to say something but then closes it - all while wearing this confused look. “Miss Elesa, how did you find out about this…twin, of yours?”

“Well, the Subway Masters and I were discussing the changes to the Xtrans when she suddenly just appeared in our group text. Understandably, we freaked out, assuming she was some sort of hacker.”

“And what convinced you she was not?”

“A picture I’d taken when I became Gym Leader.” The picture in question is shown on screen, with an edited version to the right showing what she remembered it looked like.

“Ah, yes. That would be…quite compelling evidence.” The Liepard grumbled something which thankfully wasn’t picked up by the cameras.

“I-it is, yes.”

“So…what has it been like, having your history upended like this?”

Elesa opened her mouth to answer-

—-

Her history upended? History… siblings… family… THAT'S IT! 

“Erm, Miss Elesa?” How long had she been thinking?

“S-Sorry!” she yapped out, chuckling nervously. “Your question just reminded me of something…kinda important. Would you mind waiting a moment please thank you?” She’d taken off before the reporter could reply, leaving Ms. Jacobs to send the broadcast back to the studio.

Her “sister” yowled after her, crying for the Leader to come back the interview wasn’t over! But Elesa paid the cries no mind. If she was right, then that family tree she’d made on a whim a few years ago would pay off…

Bingo! There it is, and one look confirmed what she needed to know. She rushed back to the confused newspeople, sheet of paper in…mouth (Bloody paws - wait, had she run on all 4s?). “Morry mbt mat!”

“M-Miss Elesa! Oh, we can bring the interview back, just - What’s that in your…mouth?” She sounded less disgusted and more confused, and Elesa couldn’t blame her. Dropping the sheet of paper for the interviewer to pick up, one eye noted the cameras were back on her. Showtime.

“You see, not many people know this, but I actually had a couple ancestors back in Hisui. Y’know, ancient Sinnoh.” And Ms. Jacobs was about to ask that question, great. “No, it wasn’t Ingo. We checked as soon as we found out he’d been sent back in time.” One of the drawbacks of the public knowing what had happened.

“I…see.” She really didn’t. “And your point is?” There’s the proof.

“My point is, those ancestors didn’t come to Unova until sometime after the whole Pokérus incident. You know, the thing that transformed Ingo and Emray.” Blink, paw to her mouth. Oh, was her voice going NOW?!

Well, the interview might be over, since the reporter was looking away, one hand to her earpiece. “I…uhh, hang on. Yes…yes, Kevin. That last syllable was a “ray” to me, not a “met”. Yes? You sure? Ok, wow.” She turned back to the hopefully-still-a-Gym-Leader. “Apparently we have live Pokémon-to-human translation now, so… could you elaborate?”

“Erm? Oh, uh, right.” Oh boy. She was having trouble telling what part of that was words and what was Pokéspeech. That live translation came at a good time, huh? “Anyways. Ingo had said that the Pokérus had been caused by these…rifts in space-time some jerk made?” 

“Yes, I remember hearing that in an interview.”

A subtle nod as her sister (no quotes now?) looked on in shock. “I think what may have happened is…well, something to do with how those were rifts in space and time.”

“Are you implying that this…Pokérus… didn’t originally exist?”

“Either that or a cure for it did exist originally.” The cameraman’s mouth made a nice “o”. He got it. But for the rest of the class... “If this is true, then all these changes could be because the cure just…doesn’t exist anymore, or something.”

“That… that is an incredible discovery, Miss Elesa! How did you come to this idea?”

The Liepard chose this time to step over, unannounced and utterly deadpan. “...one of our best friends literally became part of a key time of our world’s history. Even if I…well. Even if I wasn’t here back then, I’m pretty sure the conclusion follows naturally. Yes?”

“I…alright. Erm, some of our researchers are getting in touch with genealogists and changed people now. Get people looking into this theory. If it’s right, then we may finally have an answer to all this.”

“Eh, no sweat. Sis and I…oh.” A blink. “I don’t actually remember what I do for a living… or my name! Guess that says something, huh?” The purple feline laughed, but Elesa could hear pain underneath. See the shock and fear in her eyes.

“Umm. Very well. Thank you very much for your time and insights. It seems like Kevin’s ready to go back to the studio, so yeah. Go ahead, Kevin?”

—-

To say the Unova News website was busy after this would be a gross understatement. It was only thanks to some improved Porygon-made tech that they were still online at all, and the loading times were still unreal.

Ironic how the reason the site was so close to crashing was the same reason it was still up.

Elesa’s family tree theory had borne fruit simply from research alone, but then Cynthia went to Spear Pillar to try and ask Arceus himself.

She didn’t get the Alpha Pokémon, but they did get Celebi (on behalf of Dialga - apparently he was her boss or something). The Time Travel Pokémon confirmed that Elesa had gotten the theory right on the head. For some reason or another, their original timeline - the one where Pokérus had a cure - had collapsed into what the Legendaries had dubbed the “Post-Rus” timeline when Arceus had sent that world’s version of Ingo home. Apparently, some wires got crossed somewhere? Honestly, seemed like a bit of an excuse, but anyways

As a result of the collapse, any Legendary with metaphysical weight to throw around was busy trying to keep things stable for the merger - make sure different versions of the same person didn’t cause a paradox, make sure people who existed in one timeline and not the other didn’t get erased, that sorta thing.

Technically speaking, this Celebi was from the future, a good year or so after the merger had stabilized. Her present self - along with all of her selves from now to that year-after point - were busy dealing with an Ash Ketchum. Apparently, he was so critical he needed a special task force just to make sure the merger didn’t prematurely cause Armageddon or worse. 

And that was when she’d said too much, as Celebi vanished about mid-sentence. The former Champion seemed to be... unsurprised, at this (or was it at this “Ash” being such a big deal?). Still, at least what she'd said was safe to share. Seeing as it hadn’t been censored out like most people assumed it would.

As the article segued into a guide for how to tell which timelines you were originally in, Elesa could hear her twin groan. …Arceus apparently had a sense of humor, giving her a twin in the other timeline. At least they weren’t as in sync as the Subway Masters.

Speaking of, Ingo and Emmet had been overjoyed to find that Gear Station’s trains had been modified so that Pokémon and humans could run them. Which made sense, if in that “Post-Rus” timeline Pokémon were on an even keel with humans…

“...Si-Elesa?”

“Hmm?” The lady in question looked over from her round, pet bed-like couch to the Liepard, who looked... upset. 

“...Do…do you think I’m real?”

“Eh? I mean, of course you’re real, you’re just from the other timelin-”

“That’s the problem!” Oh. “T-that other timeline…my memories…they aren’t real! They shouldn’t exist here!” The feline began choking up. “And if it wasn’t for me you’d still be...y'know...”

Nope. No crying allowed. The almost-a-Luxray wobbled over, proportions slightly out of whack still as they hugged the spotted cat tight. Her sister blinked, shuddering at the contact as the Gym Leader gave a small nuzzle. “...Sis. Please. Don’t worry about it.”

“B-but I-”

One paw reached around, turning the crying cat so her eyes locked with Elesa’s own, increasingly feline ones. “Listen. I don’t know what you think about how our timelines interact or what anyone says about that stuff. What matters is that you exist. You’re here. That’s real enough for me.” A smile. “And honestly? I’d welcome you at the Gym, sister or not. But I’m sure any sibling of mine is great at battles.” Smile evolved into Grin! “Then, maybe I’m just telling a Lie-pard.”

The Liepard blinked once. Twice (pfft). Three times (Snrrk). And then they couldn’t hold back the giggles.

“Oh, please! Not only is that a horrible pun, but you know I don’t need any sort of invitation! Besides, I do it…better…”

“...Sis?” Elesa was worried - the other cat’s eyes had grown wide and her mouth was hanging open. Oh, please don’t let this be another existential crisis…

“...Dragons, I just remembered what I do.” Thank Dragons, it wasn’t another crisis!

So just lean in and smile. “Really?! What is it?”

A very feline grin. “Admittedly? More or less what I was hoping it would be~”

“Alright, now you gotta spill.”The hug was released as Elesa felt her face push out one last time. “Just what do you do?”

—-

It had been about a week since the timelines had merged. The panic had more-or-less calmed down, with the ones still upset being those who either wound up in bad situations (which, thanks to all the recording being done for comparisons, were easy to spot) or were upset they didn’t get the form they wanted. Apparently, there were even a couple of Pokémon who were upset about becoming a different species altogether - or outright human! (The Nimbasa Trio Twins found this hilarious.)

For everyone else, though, the adaptation process was going rather well. For the twin Subway Masters, they were actually ahead of the curve, with being transformed before the timeline shenanigans. Even if people had memories and instincts from another timeline to use, Emmet and Ingo had memories from their FIRST timeline so HAH! (Emmet would not admit that their memories as pokemon were not as long-lasting in either timeline. He was Emmet.).

As for right now, the two were waiting at their usual table at Klink & Klang’s. “...Brother, do you suspect they forgot we were linking up here tonight?”

“I am Emmet. I do not know. I only know they are late.” His pedipalps twitched, already eager for some red meat substitute. He’d lost out on his birthday steak due to his changes, but the other timeline apparently had something similar to red meat that was Galvantua-safe. It would not be a steak, but it would be suitable.

“Hopefully it is just completing safety checks. They are a two-cab train now, much like we are.”

“True! I am Emmet. I hope they were not held up by someone being unsafe.”

“I believe they are more than able to re-route around such an impediment-”

“Sorry we’re late!” Both chitin’d Pokémon looked to the entry, where a pair of poofy coat-wearing felines were strutting in, a package on the larger one’s back.

“Yeah, we had to make a quick stop.” The pair sauntered over to the table, the Liepard taking a seat. Elesa took a bit longer to get seated, using her blue muzzle to nip the string holding her package before setting it on the table in front of the guys.

The train twins laughed. “I am Emmet. I did not expect you to use the same style of dress!”

The Luxray laughed, shaking out a long, black mane from her trademark earwear (Even if it no longer went on her ears). “Nah! Besides, these things have removable cooling packs inside now.”

Her sister nodded. “Yep. Great to beat the heat with. Especially when you’ve got fur.” She smirked, stroking her own silvery coat whilst ears flicked.

“Well, it appears Miss Sable has decided to pull into your station. Regarding fashion choices, at least.” Ingo smirked, dragging the package over towards himself.

“Ha ha ha. Yeah, like you two aren’t copycats yourself.” The train twins sputtered and Elesa chuckled at the joke.  The Liepard waved a paw through the air amidst the reactions, causing the package to pop open before the brothers’ eyes. Gotta love moves. “That’s for you guys by the way. Want us to get the menus while you use the restroom?”

“What do you mean, ‘use the-’” Words died as the battle facility heads looked in the package.

“I am Emmet! You said these wouldn’t be in our terminal for a year!” Well, buried their heads in it in Emmet’s case. If it wasn’t for feline hearing the sisters would’ve only heard “mm mmm m mmm m mmm!” Or something like that.

“Yeah, turns out that when like a quarter to a half the population is Pokémon? Species isn’t a factor in clothing design anymore.” Elesa shrugged and smirked, watching the twins gingerly pull out a pair of Subway Master coats. One white with multiple leg-holes, and the other black with slits for wings. Both sized perfectly for their wearers.

“...We will be returning to this station momentarily. Please wait behind the yellow line.” That was all that was said before the pair scurried off to the restroom, Emmet almost bowling people over in his frantic rush.

“...they do know they don’t have to use the restroom, right?”

“Maybe, but they were originally human in both timelines.”

“Ah, true that.” A snicker as a green-and-tan Sneasal brought menus to the table. “So, what’d you think of my ‘first’ day?”

The Electric-type couldn’t hold back the laugh. “Oh, please! It was so clear it wasn’t your first day dealing with the Gym. You had no mercy with those challengers!”

“Well, they don’t call me ‘The Cruel Beauty’ for nothing, miss ‘Gleaming Beauty’~”

More snickers. “Heh, to think we’re Co-Leaders of the Nimbasa Gym.”

“And both models, right?”

“Y-yeah, that too.” Snrrrk. “I swear, if Arceus knew this timeline stuff was going to happen, he meant for us to be this way.”

“Heh, fair enough.” A purr as Sable slicked back her head-fur some, making sure nothing was poking over her silver-and-black headgear. “By the way, know what you wanna order?”

“Not really, no. My old favorite isn’t that cat-friendly, and I’m not sure this place existed in the other timeline…”

“You’re just sayin’ that because you don’t wanna make a mess of the apartment again.”

“‘Make a mess of the apartment?’ I am Emmet. I would verrry much like to hear about Elesa dirtying her home station.” The Luxray blushed as her sister laughed, the once-identical twins having chosen this moment to return to the table.

“I would apologize for the delay, we had issues with our new garb. However, it appears we were actually right on schedule.” Oh, and Ingo was getting in on it too?

“C’mon, you don’t need to tell them that story!” 

“Oh yes I do!” Sable laughed as Elesa began looking for a way to shut her (new) twin up. “So she’d had this ‘strange’ cough for a while, but figured it wasn’t a big deal.

“I am Emmet. I think that was a failed safety check.”

“Sure was! Even if we use showers, a cat’s gotta groom. And she wasn’t letting any of it back out~” 

“Oh my. Are you saying?”

“Yep! Got so clumped that it was blocking stuff up, and…” As the story rambled on, Elesa was redder than a Tamato, frantically trying to cover up her sibling’s mouth. Unfortunately, Sable was adept at dodging any attempts to stop this embarrassing tale. Oh, was this how Emmet and Ingo felt when one was sharing an embarrassing tale about the other?

“You mean she -”

“Yuuup. Doc had to force the damn hairball outta her to un-clog the pipes.”

“SABLE!” Ergh… 

It was hard to believe it’d only been a bit over a week since Elesa had met her twin. A bit less than that since she’d fully changed into a Luxray. And just a few days since it’d been confirmed that the timelines had merged fully (the guys upstairs were just smoothing over rough patches).

Battling had been surprisingly fun. She could only fight herself if the opposing Trainer did too, but oh was it an exhilarating experience! She could see why Emmet was so eager to try battling after he got the hang of things.

And modeling? Well, the catwalk (Hah!) had adapted for her new species, and she’d already done a couple of rehearsal events with shocking ease. Soon she’d be able to host an actual fashion show - which of course would be focused on felids and humans. 

As her blush grew alongside everyone else’s laughter, Elesa just couldn’t help but think - ‘Yeah. Yeah, I can get used to this. But first, time to Counter.’ “Alright, alright. Well, if you thought THAT was funny, wait until you heard what happened when Sable first got to the gym.”

It was impressive how such a colorful Pokémon could turn snow-white in an instant. “Y-you…you wouldn’t tell them about that, would you?”

Sensing the train boys’ eyes on her, the Luxray just flashed her sibling a predatory grin. “Wouldn’t tell them what? That you didn’t know about the roller coaster, and now we need new cars?”

“You never liked those kinds of things before! How was I to know you’d include them in the Gym?!”

Emmet and Ingo went into hysterics as Elesa regaled them with the most embarrassing tale she had. Yeah, she could definitely get used to this.

[mountainofgoats]

Back in the Saddle

Midvale, a few weeks post-Phantom Zone. In an attempt to remaster the powers Kara spent months without, she and her two most important people make a road trip home to test her flight.

Or, I just want Kara to be able to fly for the joy of it the way Clark did in Man of Steel.

Read with “Flight” by Hans Zimmer playing. You won’t regret it.

/////

Lena knows the moment Kara emerges from the house up on the ridge. Alex’s eyes flick up, back down, then up again in quick succession. An entirely smug grin alights her face before she pointedly looks back down at her tablet.

“We’re going to have to have a talk about your affinity for making my sister new suits at some point, Luthor,” she says.

Lena feels her face heat up. “No idea what you mean.”

“Sure you don’t.”

Lena scoffs. “She needed a new one,” she hisses at the smirking elder Danvers. “The one she had was wrecked and there was no fixing it.”

“Agreed,” Alex allows, smile growing. “But this is what? The fourth one you’ve made for her?”

“One other! With upgrades!”

“Mmhmm.” Alex types a few more things into the tablet. Pulls out a USB and plugs it into the side. “Sure.”

Lena feels her face go hot. “What are you insinuating, Alex?”

Alex shrugs. “Not insinuating anything,” she says. She glances back up and smiles some more. “Just thinking you’re making a habit of making suits for Kara and I kind of appreciate it.”

At Lena’s questioning look, Alex elaborates. “Winn made her first one,” she says. “And yeah, it did the job, but it was-“ she waves her hand in a so-so gesture, wincing- “not the best. Prone to wardrobe malfunctions.”

Lena snorts. “Patriarchy.”

“Fuck ‘em,” Alex agrees with a playful two finger salute.

After a shared grin with Lena, her eyes travel back to where Kara must have made it down to the beach. “They’ve all protected her, the suits you’ve made,” Alex says. Her voice has gone quiet. Gone is the light teasing. She holds Lena’s eyes for a moment. “And I... can’t tell you how much that means to me.”

Lena’s eyes suddenly mist over, and her throat works against the lump that forms there.

Alex looks pointedly back down at her tablet, where she pulls up a video feed from one of the comm pieces resting on the boulder she’s made her impromptu HQ desk. She clears her throat. “I’ve never made sure you knew that. So. Now I’m telling you.”

Lena absolutely refuses to cry, but fuck if it doesn’t take a Herculean effort. She wrestles with the hot gratitude and affection boiling in her chest as Alex fiddles with the settings on the camera feed.

Alex glances up again, and her smile turns warm in a way Lena knows is reserved only for her sister. “Looking good, sis,” she calls. “Little weird without the cape, though.”

“Thanks! Lena made it!” Kara chirps from behind Lena. “Even has pockets! And yeah, I was going to ask you about that. Is there no cape, Lena?”

She barely dares to turn, but Alex is giving her one hell of a challenging look, and she’s still a Luthor.

And Luthors never back down from a challenge.

She turns her face just enough to look over her shoulder and immediately curses that particular Luthor trait.

Sure, she made the suit. But that in no way prepares her for what it looks like when it’s wrapped around Kara. The dark blue, almost black throws her golden hair, shimmering in the late sun, in sharp relief. The smooth material sweeps over the dips and curves of her shoulders and biceps, the dip in the high collar exposing slightly below the hollow of her throat. She approaches silently on the sand, the soft and supple deep maroon boots smooth and soundless. Lena had left the pants a little loose, a little more comfortable, but that did nothing to hide the muscle that bunches and releases rhythmically as Kara walks across the sand.

And she’s looking quizzically at Lena. Head slightly titled, blue eyes somehow even bluer against the darkness of her suit, the blue and red accents, and the reddish tint of the setting sun.

Lena rips her eyes away from the subtle dips in Kara’s abs and desperately wracks her brain to remember what question was asked of her.

“Cape, Lena?” Alex prompts with a shit eating grin.

“Right,” Lena coughs. She turns fully to meet Kara, hand already pointing to the belt slung diagonally across Kara’s chest. “I figured, since you’re not wanting to be in the limelight just yet, I should make it a bit more understated,” Lena explains. “Did you see the crest on your left shoulder?”

“Yeah,” Kara nods. “I like that it’s so small.”

“Press it.”

Kara’s eyes dance with curiosity, not leaving Lena’s, as she reaches up to press on the tiny S affixed to the dark brown leather.

At the press of Kara’s fingers, the nanites immediately begin to crawl across the suit, gathering and extending down her back and around her chest in a long, deep maroon cloak. Kara lets out a startled sound of delight, swishing the thick material and stroking at it with near reverence.

“More nanites?” Alex smirks.

Lena shrugs, tossing the elder Danvers a smirk of her own. “I mean, I do have an MO at this point. No sense in ditching it.”

“It’s great!” Kara exclaims. She swishes the cloak again, grinning happily. “I can put it away if I want! This would have saved me so many headaches years ago!”

She bounces over to Lena and wraps her up in a warm hug. “Thank you,” she says quietly. Only for Lena. “I love it.”

Lena squeezes her around the back, hands fisting in the material of the cloak, feeling herself flush with happiness. “I’m glad,” she whispers.

“That’s actually a pretty good idea, Lena,” Alex says as they break apart. She’s back at the tablet, tapping and looking over some sort of read out. “She was always complaining how the cape got in the way.”

Lena arches an eyebrow at Kara. “What about your cape tricks?”

Kara grimaces. “Much less useful than I was led to believe.”

Alex snorts. “Understatement of the century,” she mutters. “Okay,” she strides over to a Kara and gently fits a comm around her ear. “That has a GPS and camera built in. We’ll be able to see what you see, know where you are, monitor vitals-“

Kara makes a face. “Wait, if you can track me, couldn’t someone else?”

Lena shakes her head. “The crest has signals built in to interfere with radar. Any signal that’s not Alex’s will get scrambled to cloak you.”

Kara surges forward for another hug, and over her shoulder Lena sees Alex smile with an exasperated shake of her head.

“Always protecting,” she mutters.

“What, Alex?” Kara asks as she lets Lena go and takes a step back.

“Nothing,” Alex says. She inputs a few more commands on the tablet, then looks up at Kara. “So. You ready?”

Lena glances over to Kara for what she thinks will be a quick confirmation.

But in those brief seconds, Kara’s easy smile and eager brightness had darkened.

In the red glow of the sun, she stands with her face tilted upward. She gazes at the sky with unfiltered longing, but her hands are trembling. Her whole being quivers, wound tight like a spring, as if she wants nothing more than to hurl herself up to the clouds. But there’s a tightness in her eyes, something there that just... won’t let her. She just stands there, shaking, looking up with haunted eyes.

Alex reaches out, rests a hand on Kara’s forearm. “Hey,” she murmurs. “You don’t have to do anything crazy. Whatever you’re ready for is all you have to do. The rest will follow.”

Kara nods, but still she hesitates. “But what if- what happens if I can’t- I mean-“

“I caught you floating in your sleep two nights ago,” Lena says gently and Kara’s eyes - desperate, scared eyes - whip to hers. “You can do this. But only if you’re ready to. Okay?”

The near manic desperation in Kara’s eyes cools as they hold each other’s gaze. She squeezes Alex’s hand, takes a breath, and nods resolutely.

“Yeah, yeah,” she mutters, giving her shoulders a shake. “I’m good. I’m okay.”

Alex squeezes her arm, then lets go. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Kara has her eyes on the sky again, gives her shoulders one more fortifying shake. She flexes her hands, rubs them on her pants once. She glances over at Lena and seems to brighten at the reassuring smile Lena gives her.

“Okay,” she breathes. “Here goes nothing.”

She stills, closes her eyes. Breathes in deep, then lets it out slow.

She breathes once more, the tense lines of her face relaxing.

Silently, her feet leave the sand.

Alex reaches over for Lena’s arm and grasps it tightly.

Eyes still closed, Kara rises higher in the air, straight up. She turns in gentle circles as she ascends, up and above the ridge.

Alex is looking over the read-outs on the tablet, eyes darting back and forth with near frantic energy. “Looking good so far, Kara,” she says distractedly. “Vitals are good. You’re at a hundred feet now.”

“Feels good,” comes Kara’s voice through the comms. “I’m not even trying.”

Alex’s smile is so proud Lena wants to cry. “That’s good, kid. That’s so good. Two hundred feet now.”

Alex is still gripping Lena’s arm painfully tight, but she’s rocking up on her toes happily, shooting Lena fervent looks of pure joy.

“Knew you could do it, Kara,” Lena says into her own comms, taking Alex’s hand away from her arm but keeping ahold of it. She squeezes as tight as her own bubbling pride allows.

Kara’s finally in the air. She’s flying. It’s one more step closer to conquering the giant mountain they’ve been climbing since she got back.

“How high now, Alex? I’m not looking.”

Alex glances at the screen, then up towards where Kara is becoming a dark dot among the clouds. “A thousand feet. Still feeling good?”

“Yeah. Really good, actually.”

“Have you opened your eyes yet?” Alex’s voice is teasing.

“No. What if I’m suddenly afraid of heights?” Her voice is childishly whiny, drawing a chuckle out of Alex and Lena.

Lena glances down at the video feed from Kara’s earpiece and has to stop herself from gasping.

“Kara, I think you should open your eyes,” she says slightly breathlessly.

“I’m gonna fall if I do,” comes Kara’s tight reply.

Alex is also staring at the camera feed, watching as the view of the water recedes farther toward the bottom of the screen as Kara rises higher and higher. “Kara, you want to see it,” she says. “Trust us.”

Lena knows the exact moment Kara opens her eyes. There’s a tiny gasp through the comms, and the camera arrests in place. Locked on to the brilliance of the shimmering water, the watercolor of the clouds in the light of the setting sun.

For a moment, Kara hangs motionless in the air.

Alex is anxiously tightening and loosening her grip on Lena’s hand. Looking up to where Kara is barely a speck in the sky, back to the camera, then back up again.

“Kara?” she says, a small break in her voice. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” comes Kara’s breathless voice. “Yeah, no, I’m good.”

There’s another moment of silence, then “It’s breathtaking. I... I’d almost forgotten-“ her voice cracks, and she clears her throat -“How beautiful this planet is.”

Alex squeezes Lena’s hand so tight it hurts, and Lena brings her free hand to grip at Alex’s forearm.

Alex sniffles, swipes her eyes against her shoulder. “It has its moments,” she rasps.

For a few long moments, they three stay silent. Lena and Alex on the ground, clutching at hands and arms in barely restrained joy with the waves lapping nearby.

And Kara, so high they can’t even see her, hanging in midair. Silent save for her gentle, easy breathing and the wind whistling around her.

And then, so suddenly both Lena and Alex flinch, she huffs a breath.

“Wanna see how fast I can get around the world?”

Alex barks a laugh, exchanging a fond and relieved look with Lena. “Your record is what? Thirty four seconds?”

“I can beat that,” comes the cocky reply.

And god, she sounds so happy.

Alex scoffs. “If you say so.”

Lena pulls out her phone and sets up a stopwatch. “On my mark, then?” she says.

“Don’t break anything, Kara,” Alex warns, though there’s no bite in her voice.

“And don’t break that suit,” Lena chimes in.

Kara’s voice has a tiny edge of Supergirl - the first since the Phantom Zone - when she replies. “Nothing’s getting broken here except the sound barrier.”

A shiver shoots down Lena’s spine. She does her best to ignore why.

“In three, two, one-“ she taps her phone- “Go.”

BOOM!

The noise vibrates through Lena’s chest. High above, the sky seems to part for Kara as she rockets towards the sun, leaving a trail in her wake.

Lena and Alex crowd the screen, watching wide-eyed as the ocean zips by far below, clouds whipping past, the camera quivering with the breakneck speed.

“Oh my god,” Lena murmurs almost by accident.

On the screen, a dark line of land rapidly approaches on the horizon as Kara hurtles toward it.

“That’ll be Japan,” Alex mumbles. She checks the read-outs and nods to herself. “Vitals are still good. Heart rate’s a little elevated, but considering-“ she gestures to the screen with a wry smile.

Lena nods, barely holding back happy tears.

On screen, Kara slows just enough for the sound to come back. Air whistles through the comms, her breathing slightly labored, and she ducks her head to watch the cities blink far below.

She won’t break her record by slowing like this, but Lena doesn’t mention that. And neither does Alex. They just watch as Kara picks up speed again, camera angling strangely as she dives.

She shoots west, weaving in huge slalom turns. The camera angles and tilts as she looks across the water, across the trees and grasslands and mountains as she passes them. Cities and towns flash past like street lights on a highway.

On the screen, her GPS tracks her through the rest of Asia, across India and into Africa. It’s a far cry from the speed she’d shot off at, but she doesn’t seem to mind as she dips and rolls through the clouds, hand outstretched as if to catch the swirling vapors.

Once she reaches the distant coast, Kara dips so low her hand reaches out to skim the water. She sails over the waves, fingers dragging, until she finds a pod of dolphins playing in the white water. For a moment, she flies just above the waves with them as they leap and dance.

The camera jerks toward the sky, and Kara gives a loud, delighted whoop as she shoots upwards. Spinning and spinning so fast the camera is blurring with the speed.

And through it all, Kara is laughing. Huge, joyous belly laughs, arms outstretched and head thrown back as she sails back into the clouds.

At 40,000 feet, she slows her ascent. Like a ball tossed in the air, she hovers at a stop for a split second before she starts to plummet. She turns, belly down and arms outstretched as the ocean rushes to meet her.

Still laughing with outrageous joy.

“God I missed that,” Alex murmurs. Her voice quivers and breaks.

Lena doesn’t take her eyes away from the screen. She doesn’t want to miss a single moment of this. But she does give Alex’s hand a squeeze in agreement.

Because hearing that laugh, being here and watching as Kara rolls and dives through the air, is healing pieces of Lena’s heart that she didn’t think would ever even scab over.

Kara’s joy is infectious, like it had always been. And Lena finds that she’s soaking it in like a woman parched.

On screen, Kara shoots off with another mighty BOOM. Her GPS shows her hurtling across the US at breakneck speed.

“Not even close to her record,” Alex laughs wetly. “Guess we’ll have to try again later.”

Lena swipes her hand under her eyes with a chuckle, catching tears that neither of them really acknowledge.

And seconds later, Kara lands with a muffled thump. Sand flies under her feet, and the ground trembles.

But her face is flushed, smile radiant, eyes glistening with tears.

Alex takes a step toward her, but pauses. “You okay?”

Kara gives a sobbing laugh, gestures helplessly with her hands. But her smile is wondrous.

Alex surges forward and wraps her in a tight hug. Kara clutches back, hands buried in her sister’s jacket and face pressed against her shoulder.

After a moment, one hand reaches out, fingers wiggling invitingly.

Lena takes that hand in both of hers and holds on tight. Over Alex’s shoulder, Kara’s eyes crinkle with her smile, sparkling and overwhelmed. She squeezes Lena’s hand, then tucks her eyes against her sister’s shoulder with a huge breath.

In a way, Lena feels as if they’re all breathing that same breath of relief.

“I wanna go again.” Kara’s voice is muffled adorably against Alex’s jacket.

Alex chuckles and rocks Kara back and forth happily. “We can stay out here as long as you want.”

Kara nods. “’Kay,” she says. But she holds on to Alex tighter, fingers digging into her jacket. “But in a minute, okay?”

Alex nods. Presses a kiss to the side of Kara’s head. “In a minute.”

And that seems to suit all three of them just fine. No one’s quite ready to let go yet.

/////

I'm a sucker for the angst just as much as the next nerd but I needed them to just... be happy and together. Just for a moment.

[toooldforfandom-liveblogs]

RWBY V8E11 - Risk

My main question going into this episode is... why did Ironwood's Ultimatum ask the same thing of Penny as the hack (assuming the Vault is in Atlas Academy)? I mean, in-universe it makes sense, he doesn't know what's going on. But we know. I'm not sure what's the narrative purpose of duplicating Penny's orders. Is it to have both Penny and her hacked self agree in what they need to do? To make her "lose" to the virus only because she agrees, without compromising the possibility of her coming back? Hm.

Anyway, I have no idea what the episode's title could be about so let's do this!

I think not even Palpatine in Star Wars went this hard with the dramatic lighting after his mask came off.

I hadn't considered that the bomb would be the thing to push people to reconsider working under Ironwood but, well, of course. On the other hand these guys saw Ironwood murder a councilman in cold blood without it ever coming up again, so I feel I have a pretty good reason for not thinking "this, this is the thing that breaks their loyalty"

All the light is gone from Ironwood's eyes, I guess the bomb threat finally killed whatever was left of him.

I love how the Ace Ops went from being awesome during their introduction to the slow reveal of how much they actually suck.

Winter just saved Marrow's life and there's no way she didn't know what she's doing.

I'm laughing IRL at their expressions and the situation.

Oscar is reaaally sounding like Ozpin right now

And Ruby finally, finally, got to her breaking point.

There's never going to be enough time for the show to get really into whatever is going on with Nora and Ren but I love the potential.

This is the payoff I've been waiting for almost two volumes and I'm loving it. Give me all the drama.

Nora's VA is killing it. I think I've never heard that particular tone coming from Nora before.

Wait.

What?

Of all the things I expected this is not one of them.

I wish they showed what Ren is seeing with his semblance. But I guess he could always be not using it right now.

Oh no, Jaune made me laugh. I'm getting soft in my old age.

I can't tell if that was a good apology or not. He assumed responsibility for what he said, explained the reason and made it clear that he knows what he is apologizing for.

I wonder if Nora thinks Ren regrets the kiss, since he mentioned Robyn's rally and she very clearly reacted to it.

That tiny flinch from Nora is absolutely wonderful.

The one thing that is distracting me here is Ren's VA. But maybe it's the way Ren in general gets directed which usually works for his character but feels a teensy bit stilted here, in a "ah, an actor is reading these lines" versus "Ren is saying this" way.

Still loving this scene.

Nora backstory!

now I wonder if he can turn off his semblance

If I hadn't been pausing I'd be crying right now, but this definitely got me teary-eyed.

All aboard the murder ironwood train

The most subtle of weapons, a giant Final Fantasy sword.

With that camera angle, he's already gone.

Welp, never mind

On one hand this is a natural continuation of Qrow's character development. A small return into his bad habits before continuing to get better.

On the other hand, I'm just not invested in his storyline. It lost me when Clover got killed and now I just want the writers to speedrun this bit so Qrow can either return to the main group or go do something else away from the show.

Who could it be to cause that reaction? Maybe Winter and Marrow?

lol at Ruby's angst pose.

Oh. We're going right into this.

I 100% thought they had missed the silver eyes or maybe save it for the last episode or something.

Ruby's VA is making a herculean effort to make her sound gravely while still keeping her squeakiness. And it's working.

This is amazing. I never expected the show to acknowledge that Ruby is perfectly capable of doing the same speculation as the fandom once she had the info. And I love how she's speaking.

Also, I think I can hear the fandom's reductive perception of Ruby taking a big hit.

And now I can hear my heart breaking.

I hadn't realized how much I needed this scene. When was the last time they got to be sisters?

aaand, it's gone. It can only be Penny, right? The one remaining issue in the mansion.

aw, c'mon. I don't mind (I do) if she's fully hacked but the internal fighting is destroying me. Just get it over with.

Nuts and Dolts fans: "Not like this... not like this."

This is very tragic but I can't help but find her eyes funny.

Emerald is helping! She's helping!!

Big fan of Jaune's semblance interacting with others'

From an objective point of view, this tracks. She's making a choice while she still can.

From my point of view: AAAAA, why am I watching this.

I'm 99.9% sure that this is not going to happen just because a super powerful main character makes the story harder to write.

And, also, I'm not sure Ruby would be able to do it, even though earlier in the season they talked about how sometimes they have to make hard decisions that they don't necessarily like. They were just talking about being optimistic, there has to be reason for that.

Winter would kill Penny here but Ruby is not there yet, and I doubt she'll ever be. That's just not who she is. I feel she's going to take a risk (ohh, that's why) here but I'm not sure what the plan could be. They can't stop Penny forever.

This episode keeps surprising me with things that make sense and I hadn't even remotely considered before.

That was weirdly anti-climactic.

same Weiss, same

I think I love Emerald.

lol

Okay, now you're just overdoing it with the title drops.

I think this is my favorite episode of this season so far, I liked every single scene. Marrow finally got a spine, Winter is (or seems to be) finally doing something, Nora and Ren finally talked, Ruby finally got to open herself up and reconnect with her sister, Emerald finally acknowledged she's switching sides and Penny finally "dealt" with the virus. All those "finally" are payoffs from things that have been building up for whole seasons in some cases, and all of them worked (for me). If I had to choose, I think Nora and Ren are the highlight of the episode, with Ruby being a close second.

For the first time since Penny got hacked I feel hopeful that she's not going to straight up die or choose to die. I mean, I'm still leaning towards that being the case but the aura thing is making me reconsider my pessimism. It no longer feels inevitable. Which is probably for the worse, since now that there's hope it'll just crush me harder when the writers decide to go ahead with it anyway.

I think that's all for now so, until next time!

[whump-a-la-mode]

Continuation to signal’s story if u don’t mind?

This is just whump. Only whump. Not an ounce of comfort for Signal. On that note, if anyone has any comfort ideas for our poor little lab rat...?

Thank you so much for this request Blue! Just for you, I’ve added just a sprinkling of Doctor Crane.

I hope you enjoy! Do heed the warnings, as this one gets a little intense on the medical stuff.

@shiningstarofwinter

@wolfeyedwitch

CW//Medical setting, surgery, intubation, anesthesia awareness (waking up during surgery), panic, braces, amputation talk, death talk

Beep

Beep

Beep

Beep

“Breathing?”

“Steady.”

“Blood pressure still okay?”

“Lowering slightly, but I wouldn’t worry.”

“I hate making all these cuts...”

“There’s no other way to do it. It’s- We have to do it.”

The words filtered into Signal’s subconscious, one by one, taking a monumental effort to simply comprehend their meaning. Breathing? Were... Were they breathing? Yes, they were pretty sure.

Oddly enough, the movement of their lungs, pushing air in and out, lined up perfectly with an odd, whirring sort of sound. Too, it seemed that they could almost feel their breaths, bouncing back over their lips.

What the...

Where were they again? They could hardly even remember the night- day- When had they ever gone to sleep? It was though their mind were being weighed down by sand, every thought dragging behind it a ball and chain.

It was through only a Herculean feat that Signal managed to open their eyes. Keeping them open for more than a moment, however, proved impossible, especially as their field of vision was accosted by a blazing white light.

There were people around them. Why were they people? And why were they laying down?

Their...

Their wings. Why couldn’t they feel their wings.

Why- Why couldn’t they feel anything at all?

The steady beeping that had formerly filled the room now picked up speed until it more so resembled a furious alarm.

Signal didn’t remember going to sleep.

They remembered an IV in their vein, the bruising grips of doctors as consciousness slowly melted from them. Even as they were forced away from the waking world, they could still hear the last few words, spoken about them:

Difficult operation.

Can we really save them?

There’s so many of them...

Will they make it out of surgery?

What if they go into shock?

Surgery.

That was what the doctors, Signal’s pair of hellish captors, had promised. Surgery. There were pins, pins embedded in their wings, threatening to tear them apart. They needed to be removed, to save the feathered appendages.

In some tiny part of them, Signal just wished they’d take the damn things off. That way, they could be normal again. That way, they wouldn’t have to live the life of a classroom hamster anymore.

They didn’t know why they started screaming, nor were they truly sure why. There was no pain-- In fact, there was no feeling at all, outside from the very most sensitive features of their face. There was no fear, either, not really. There wasn’t anything at all.

Perhaps that was why they screamed. To feel anything at all. The sound barely made it past their vocal chords, sounding out into the outside world as little more than a squeak. Yet, it was more than enough to draw the attention of every last doctor in the room.

After all, you didn’t need a medical degree to know that your patient wasn’t meant to wake up during surgery. Later, a flustered anesthesiologist would admit to having forgotten to include the additional blood supply in their wings in their calculations.

For now, however, Signal was screaming.

From the sea of blue-masked and white-capped faces that ogled at them, there was only one they were able to pick out:

Doctor Sampson.

Of course, they had never much liked the doctor. It was more than difficult to like one’s captor, to enjoy the company of the one actively ruining your life.

Now, however, they longed for her. They longed for the soft touch on their hair as she took their measurements and vitals, the gentle words as Doctor Crane performed one of her many horrid experiments.

It was something. Something they could cling to.

With desperate eyes wide, Signal let out an unintelligible little squeak in their doctor’s direction. After a few moments of stunned panic, it seemed that the message had reached its destination.

First looking at her colleagues for permission, Dr. Sampson quickly received it, rushing over to Signal’s side. Leaning down, yet reluctant to touch with gloved hands, she hovered halfway over their winged captive.

“Signal, Signal, hey.”

There they were. The soft words that they had been craving, longing for. The words that made everything easier, if only for a split second in an entirely non-consequential way.

“Shh, shh. You’re okay.”

Her hand hovered over their hair, not daring to break the sterile wall between them, but getting as close as she possibly could.

“I’m so sorry. This wasn’t supposed to happen, Signal. I’m so, so sorry.”

In the background, the white-coats muttered amongst themselves as one turned a dial.

“You’re going to be okay, alright? You’re going to go back to sleep in just a second, and when you wake up, this will be all over.”

Signal tried to speak, tube in their throat and all, but managed only more tinny squeaks.

They tried to beg. Tried to beg to have the wings removed so that they could be normal again. So that they could live again, so that they wouldn’t have to live in fear of punishments and cages any longer.

But, as always, their cries went unheard.

“Close your eyes, Signal.” Doctor Sampson whispered. “It’s going to be okay.

It’s all going to be okay, as soon as you-”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━  

When Signal awoke, everything was upside down.

The first notably thing in this state was themself, their body. Rather than on their back, supine, as they had been laying prior, Signal now found themself upon their stomach, head turned quite uncomfortably to the side in order to maintain air flow in the awkward position.

For another thing, their sensations were back, as were their thoughts.

Upside down.

They could feel, now, and it was with all their strength that they wished they could not. Not that they had much strength at the moment, not as it was zapped away by the pain.

It was the second thing they noticed upon waking, after realizing their rather odd physical position: The pain. At first, it came in flashes, like being struck by a series of bullets from either side. Snap, snap, snap, a rock thrown roughly into a pond.

The epicenter of their agony was not difficult to locate, not in any way.

Their wings.

From several points along the feathered appendages, pain struck before radiating outwards, sending shivers down their stretched spine.

Surgery.

They’d made it out.

They’d made it out of surgery. They were alive! And, yet...

Signal gave a tiny, experimental flex of their wings.

The feathered appendages would not move so much as a millimeter.

They were restrained. Not as the usually were, not strapped down to a table or something similar. Rather, metal ran along them-- along their bases, along their flight feathers, through all of it. Thin metal, metal that curved and threatened to squeal whenever they dared attempt to move.

An exoskeleton. That was the first word that came to mind. The metal was so very perfectly fitted to their wings, holding them in place, holding them firm-

What in the world was happening to their wings? What had those hellish doctors done?!

This time, the beeping was louder when it filled the room. Another stupid heart monitor. Yet, when this one began to scream, it did not only resemble an alarm.

Rather, it triggered one.

With a suddenness that threatened to give Signal a heart attack, a great, blaring klaxon sounded, bathing the room in red light. After a few more rounds of this, of their heartbeat screaming in tandem with the sound that threatened to make their ears bleed, the door to the room was slammed open.

Signal had no way of telling who had entered, not in the position they were in. Yet, they had been lucky last time. Last time, Doctor Sampson had been there to comfort them. Maybe their lucky would carry over this time?

“What in the hell is going on?” Doctor Crane howled.

So it seemed, Signal’s luck had run out.

[therealvinelle]

Thoughts on Heidi and do u think Aro killing her entire coven was called for?

Heidi is from Hilda’s coven, which means her human life was garbage.

Hilda, for reference, was a vampire in 16th century London with a feminist mission to liberate society’s most oppressed women. In addition to Heidi she created Anne, Victoria’s older sister. Anne had been an impoverished prostitute who worked to keep a roof over Victoria’s head, and Hilda turned her on a night she went to see a john. Hilda also created Mary and Noela, while Anne went back to see her sister and ended up turning her.

Considering Hilda’s mission to save destitute women, Heidi would have been destitute as well. I think most likely she was a prostitute, in fact I think Victoria was the only member in that coven who wasn’t. The fact that Anne was turned on a night she was working means Hilda singled out a lady of the night, and I suspect she found the others that way as well.

And now we enter the realm of speculation, but I suspect Heidi recruits the Volturi secretaries the same way. (And yes, considering the fact that Heidi is the one responsible for bringing in the humans, I do think it’s her who recruits the secretaries.)

We don’t know much about these women, but we know that they’re completely loyal to the Volturi, that the Volturi trust them, and that they don’t appear to have anything else in life.

There’s also the Volturi mission. Explain to these destitute women what vampires are and how the Volturi preserve human society, and offer them a place in all of this, and I imagine Heidi doesn’t need her gift to make them say yes.

As I’ve been over before, I think Chelsea can only do so much. If the secretaries were normal human women with bright futures and friends and family who’d worry when they inevitably go missing, Chelsea would have to use all her talent full force on every single secretary to mindwhammy these women. It’d be cumbersome for Chelsea, and frankly quite unwise of the Volturi to take women whose departures from the human world could attract a lot of notice. Besides, the secretary we do see, Gianna, seems to be quite happy with her job. She admires the vampires she works for, is delighted when Jane greets her, and longs to join them. This does not strike me as the behavior of a woman who had a lot of life options before coming into touch with the Volturi.

So yes, I think Hilda’s directive survives in the form of Heidi singling out these destitute women, empathizing with them even, and bestowing upon them this great honor. Their material needs will be covered, they get to serve the Volturi, and in time they will either give their lives or their mortality. Either way it’s a better life than the one they would have (or so Heidi would certainly think, considering her background).

When it comes to the secretaries’ position within the Volturi (because this has apparently turned into a post on Volturi secretaries), I imagine the fact that they are replaceable does not make them worthless. They do serve the Volturi, and Volturi guard is what Aro calls those who serve his coven. There is too an inherent nobility in the sacrifice they make. I imagine Aro does not disrespect that sacrifice.

We also see that they are treated with respect. Jane shows respect to Gianna. She didn’t have to, in fact Jane does what she wants, but she greeted Gianna all the same.

Going back to Heidi’s coven and what happened to it, I have a lot of thoughts on how the Volturi carry out their justice, but bottom line is I think they’re just. Eclipse was an anomaly.

And I’m not sure that Heidi’s coven was as innocent as Meyer tried to portray them.

Going by the timeline, we know there was Anne, Victoria, and Noela within a short span of years. Anne admittedly had amazing control, being able to turn Victoria when she had only been a vampire for five years, but Anne also loved Victoria so much that she became a prostitute to provide for her (the way the deal she had with her pimp sounds, it sounds like she was working for free in exchange for Victoria getting to live for free in the brothel). That’s love. And the way their meeting is described, Anne struggled at first to be even in physical proximity of Victoria, so her success in turning her sounds like Herculean effort fueled by her all-overpowering need to protect her beloved sister rather than Anne being that great on the regular. I’m not saying I’m not impressed by Anne’s success, my point is that the control she showed around Victoria might not be representative of her control overall. Point being, Hilda had a bleeding heart and a lot of young vampires all living together in a densely populated city as a result.

At its height, the coven consisted of six vampires. The average vampire coven has three or four vampires. The Cullens being seven strong makes them an anomaly. Hilda had a coven twice the size of the norm living in the middle of London, eating at least one person each every fortnight, making it twenty-four dead people in a month, though the number could be higher. 

I’m not surprised that they caught the attention of the Volturi.

Then we have the fact that Anne was allowed to go speak with Victoria in the first place. I totally get why Hilda would okay that, checking up on an impoverished woman to see how she’s doing sounds like something right up Hilda’s alley, but letting a human see her vampified sibling and live to tell the tale is toeing the line of keeping the secret big time. Luca was doing something very similar, and while he got away with it, the Volturi didn’t like it and if it weren’t for Renata he probably would have been executed. Now, Anne going to see her sister is a very minor breach and not something that warrants the slaughter of the whole coven, especially not when said sister was made a vampire, but it does show that Hilda did not rigidly enforce the law within her coven.

Remember also that Aro relieved Renata of Luca and Demetri of Amun without harming either Luca nor Amun. Given Luca’s thing that he had going with Renata’s family, and Amun’s ancient enmity with Aro, he had far more motivation to kill either of them than he did Heidi’s coven, and yet they were spared while these women were not. This, to me, points to Heidi’s coven having actually been guilty.

I question the idea that Aro even knew that Heidi was gifted when he issued the order to have the coven executed. Eleazar wouldn’t be born for another two centuries, and... well, how would Aro know? I suspect he found out when reading Heidi’s mind. Besides, Heidi’s gift is great, but she’s no gamechanger. Would a vampire whose gift is covered by Chelsea really be worth wiping out a whole coven?

As for how Heidi is doing now, I suspect she’s fine. What happened was tragic, but Chelsea loosened her emotional ties to the coven, lessening the trauma. The coven was guilty as charged, and Heidi gets to honor Hilda’s memory with the Volturi secretaries. It’s sad that things turned out the way they did, but they could have been worse.

[mari-beau]

PARTNERS - A Rogue One Fanfiction

Written for Cassian Appreciation Week 2021 Day 4: Alliance Intelligence

(I know I missed Cassian Appreciation Week entirely with this one, but it got a little more out of hand than the quick scene tags and etc. Actually, tumblr posting etiquette question: At what point is a fanfic considered too long to post directly and should be hosted elsewhere and linked to? Or is inserting a ‘keep reading’ break enough?)

Title: Partners

Characters: Cassian Andor POV; Jyn Erso, Draven

Pairing: Cassian/Jyn

Words: 2633

Setting: Post-Rogue One, Canon-divergent (in that Cassian & Jyn live)

Summary: Cassian receives his first assignment for Alliance Intelligence after recovering from his Scarif injuries, but something is amiss with Jyn Erso. And something is gnawing at him as well...

Spoilers: Rogue One

Warnings: Our heroes have a little bit of PTSD/Separation Anxiety; Also it’s in a layered/nonlinear narrative format, which hopefully is clear/works.

“Where?” she asked. Was there a desperate edge to Jyn’s voice? Or did he just want there to be?

“You know I can’t tell you where.”

Cassian thought she would at least roll her eyes, if not spout sardonic criticism of Alliance Intelligence not even trusting their own people, not trusting those rebels who’d sacrificed everything for the Cause. But she surprisingly remained silent, pursing her lips and giving a little shake of her head.

“Are you allowed to tell me how long you’ll-” She swallowed, uncharacteristically vulnerable. “You’ll be gone?”

“I’m not sure.” Cassian wanted to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but he’d never seen her look so fragile, and he was afraid a single touch might shatter her.

“Okay.” Her response was clipped, even for her, and she just nodded her head, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I’ll be back, Jyn,” he said. And maybe he’d never actually said it outright, but maybe she needed to hear it. “I’ll never leave you behind.”

Again, she only nodded her head, repeating “Okay.”

He gave into the urge, placed a hand on her biceps and stroked her arm through the layers of her thick thermal jumpsuit.

“Are you-” he tried to ask her whether she was feeling okay, but she shrugged his hand off and bolted, leaving him to watch her fleeing back as she disappeared down an icy corridor, blinking in surprise.

…

Earlier…

“Medical informs me you’re cleared for active duty, Captain Andor.” Draven managed to make it both a statement and a question. Of course he was the head of Intelligence, a spy to his very core, working in vagaries. Except when he issued orders. Those were always clear.

“Yes, sir.” Cassian tried to stand at full attention, but the stance honestly put a little too much pressure on his bad leg. If it was just the artificial hip, he’d probably be sprier than he’d been before. But the deep tissue damage was going to take awhile, if he ever did regain the full musculature in his leg, the tendons and ligaments would never be the same. The fractures in his vertebrae and ribs had thankfully knitted back up and neither bothered him too badly. Even with the unrelenting cold of Hoth.

“I have your next assignment.”

Cassian nodded, accepting the datapad with mission specifics. He gave it a cursory glance.

Deep cover.

“Is this a solo mission?” he asked, but pretended to continue to study the information rather than risk revealing his insecurities to his commanding officer. “Or am I going to need a team?”

Maybe just a partner?

“It has to be you,” Draven said. “And only you. They’re your connections. Well, one of your alias’ connections.”

The older man hesitated, not dismissing Cassian, not continuing with the briefing, just standing, waiting. Cassian mustered the best impassive face he could before meeting his commanding officer’s gaze.

“You’re still one of the best agents we have, Andor.”

Cassian nodded his head in silent acceptance of the reassurance.

“When do you need me to leave?” he asked.

“Whenever you’re comfortable enough with the mission brief. But the sooner, the better.” Draven was still studying him intently, with more scrutiny than Cassian had even faced as an undercover spy. “You know where to find me if you have any follow up questions.”

“Yes, sir,” Cassian said, recognizing his dismissal.

Something twisted deep in his chest as he walked away.

He needed to find Jyn and tell her he’d be leaving.

…

That Day on the Beach of Scarif…

“Look.”

It sounded like Jyn’s voice. Was there an afterlife, then? And could Cassian have somehow been lucky enough to be with her there?

No. No, that couldn’t be the case. There was too much pain. If he no longer had a body, then why did it hurt in the way physical flesh only could?

“Cassian!” Jyn’s voice was more urgent and she was squirming in his arms, her hands tugging on the sleeves of his shirt. “What is that?”

He forced his eyes open. It was bright. So bright. Why was she confused? It was Death.

No. No, it wasn’t?

He squinted, blinking his eyes as he looked off toward the ocean, well, where the ocean had been, where the wall of destruction had… stopped?

Jyn looked at him in wide-eyed amazement. “Is that a-”

“Shield,” Cassian gasped, in utter shock himself. “The Empire must have installed an emergency shield to protect the facility.”

“How long?” Jyn was breathing hard, already scrambling to her feet.

“Against that blastwave? Not long,” Cassian said. “Maybe it has dispersed some of the explosive force already but…”

“Come on.” Jyn was standing, leaning down to tug at his arms. He felt like he was ten times the weight he’d ever been on any planet.

“There’s not a lot of time,” he said, hoping she’d understand.

“Which is why you need to move your ass.” Jyn squatted in front of him instead, shoving her arms under his armpits and basically hugging him, she tried hauling him to his feet, but he was dead weight. He hissed with overwhelming pain that was practically blinding, his legs refusing to function. They collapsed back to the sand in a heap.

Jyn got back up, wincing and holding her injured shoulder before she renewed her attempts to get Cassian onto his feet.

It was a herculean effort for his weary body, but he managed to grab her arm.

“Listen to me, Jyn.” She locked eyes with him, and the desperation and pain he found there stabbed him in the chest, hurting worse than his aching ribs. “You have to go. You have to leave me behind. There’s got to be others still alive out there. Find them, get off Scarif. Leave me here. It’s okay. I want you to leave me. Do you understand?”

“No,” she said. There was a ferocious passion in the depths of her eyes, the green gone all steel grey. Any argument he could possibly make, any plea for her to save herself would not be tolerated.

“You listen to me, Cassian Andor.” Her hands captured his face. Her fierceness took away what little breath he had. “We live together. Or we die together.”

This time when she grabbed him, somehow her small body managed to haul him up, maybe she’d somehow given him some of her strength, some of her unrelenting determination, because his legs held... mostly.

…

Present

Cassian found Jyn hiding in a storage room, sitting on a crate with her hands on her knees, doubled over, breathing in big, sobbing gulps of air. He could only stand there and stare in complete shock. Not even on the beach that day had he ever seen Jyn Erso so… such an emotional mess. Angry. Passionate. Vulnerable. Yes. All those things he had seen in her eyes. But this sort of tangible, physical reaction? It was jarring to witness.

And he hesitated. Never hesitate. It could cost lives, the lives of others, your own.

Rushing to her side, he dropped to his knees beside her, the hard ice floor’s impact mitigated by his thick thermal pants.

“Jyn, what is it? What’s wrong? Should I find a medic?”

He placed a hand on her leg, tried to get her to look at him, but she turned away, her breathing still disturbingly uneven, like she wasn’t getting enough oxygen.

“N-no,” she choked out. “Just- Just give me a m-minute.”

“Okay,” he said. “But I’m right here. If you need anything, I’m here.”

A sob escaped her, and then she gasped, continuing to struggle to breath, hyperventilating. Cassian just remained there, kneeling beside her, a previously unfamiliar agony tearing at him, watching Jyn suffer whatever it was she was enduring and unable to help her. But he’d stay there, by her side, forever, if she needed him to.

Her breathing gradually grew placid until she was taking deep, regulated draughts of air. And then those determined breaths evened out as well until she was finally breathing normally. And still he waited.

Jyn swore, wiping at her face before she turned to him, and oh, force, her cheeks were raw-looking with tear tracks staining her skin. There were dark circles under her eyes. She looked exhausted. As if she’d been awake, hunted, for a week. How did that happen in just half an hour or so?

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” Cassian asked. He wanted to know, needed to know, so, “Maybe I can help.”

She nodded but her eyes were bright, welling up with tears. This was Jyn Erso. It took a lot to make the woman cry.

“What is responsible for this? Did someone hurt you?” Cassian could hear his own accent thickening but didn’t care, becoming too agitated to focus on proper Basic pronunciations.

Jyn shook her head but said, “No. Yes… I… fuck. This is so embarrassing.”

“What is it, querida?” He took her hand and when she didn’t pull away, squeezed it, caressed her bare palm with his thumb, noting that her skin was getting cold and he should get her back closer to the core of the base where the temperature was more bearable. “You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”

She nodded. And again, Cassian was struck by how vulnerable the woman was. She always had a deeply hurt portion of her soul, but she seemed incapable of letting it show, even to him. It wasn’t deluding himself, or an over-exaggeration. Cassian knew that her friendship with him was different than any other she’d had in her life. It was the same for him. They finally had someone they could trust wholeheartedly.

But he still held his breath, waiting for her to bestow that trust once again.

She looked down at her hands in his, then to his face, her weary eyes holding his gaze, searching for something.

“You haven’t realized it, yet, have you?” she asked. Cassian’s heart beat faster. Realized what? “Until your Intelligence briefing this morning, we hadn’t been more than an arm’s length apart since Scarif. And force, I’m having a fucking panic attack just at the thought of being separated from you. How ridiculous is that?”

Cassian’s mouth had gone dry. He swallowed and wet his lips before he could even contemplate speaking.

“It’s not ridiculous, Jyn.” Maybe he hadn’t realized why, but that uneasy feeling had been twisting his insides since he’d first left for his briefing. And now, now he couldn’t deny its cause.

Because Jyn was right. She’d basically dragged him bodily out of that massacre, off that cursed planet, held him as he drifted in and out of consciousness until he’d blacked out entirely, to wake up in the infirmary on Yavin 4 with Jyn sitting at his bedside, arms folded on the edge of his cot, supporting her head as she slept. And from there, she had been with him his entire recovery. She refused to leave the room when medical staff or droids checked on him, only turning her back to give him privacy. He hadn’t complained. He hadn’t objected. Even when she set up a bedroll in the corner of his quarters when he’d been released from the infirmary. Even when she wordlessly climbed into his bed to soothe his fitful, painful sleep, even when she helped him dress. And shower. And limp down the corridors to exercise his injured leg. And after he was basically as recovered as he was going to get, she stayed. Always by his side.

The memory that would always forever be seared into his existence slapped him in the face.

“We live together. Or we die together,” he whispered.

Jyn’s pupils dilated, her eyes fixed unwaveringly on his.

“I meant it,” she said quietly. “But I didn’t think…”

Her hand reflexively clutched at the front of her thermal jumpsuit, seeking the only possession she cared about, the only thing she had left of her mother, her father, the only thing she had that was her own, special. But hadn’t she realized?

She had him.

Cassian took a risk, slid his fingertips over her cheek, which was soft and smooth and warm against his doubtless chilled fingers. But she didn’t flinch from his cool touch. Rather, she leaned into his palm as he cupped her face.

“I know,” he said. And he did know, could see the knowledge of it in her eyes, as well. He didn’t much believe in the Force, and despite the kyber crystal perpetually around Jyn’s neck, she had had a hard life, was a survivor, with a practicality that ran so deep it had taken him, a heartless assassin to make her believe in hope again.

Sometimes, though… Okay, often, he felt like that blastwave had swept them away, disintegrated them on the submolecular level. And then somehow they’d reformed. But their atoms had been mixed up, and he was as much composed of her stardust as his own, and she of his.

It was fanciful. And completely unlike Cassian. The Before Cassian. But now, it was absolutely the way he felt. It was foolish to deny it. And from the way Jyn was looking at him...

He leaned in, his nose brushing hers, his lips feathering over hers as he hesitated, waited for any signal from her, acceptance, invitation, or rejection.

It was an exquisite, agonizing eternity.

But then Jyn sucked in a sharp breath, one of her small yet strong hands grabbing the front of his coat, the other the nape of his neck, fingers curling in his hair. She pulled him into her, her mouth crashing against, hard and hot, and needy. Aggressive and tender at the same time. An inextricable mess. It was how they were. It was who they were.

It was perfect.

…

A little bit later...

“You have concerns regarding the mission, Captain Andor?”

Cassian had managed to catch General Draven in the rare moment where the man was actually in his office, sitting at his desk, reviewing… who knew what… intelligence, battle plans… food reserves…

“I do, sir.”

Draven looked up. Cassian had never questioned an assignment before. He’d always been such a good little soldier-spy. Even though it had been costing him his very soul.

Still, even with the feeling of Jyn’s kisses freshly on his lips, the presence of her burned into his entire being, questioning orders made him nervous. Almost as nervous as allowing himself to have wants, a sense of self beyond what the Alliance had given him.

“Well, what is it, captain?”

“I need a partner.”

Draven frowned in thought. “If I recall… the assignment is best suited for a single operative.”

Cassian swallowed but looked his commanding officer straight in the eye. “Then I won’t be taking this assignment. Or any others for Alliance Intelligence. Not unless I can work with a partner.”

Draven stood, did a quick pace behind his desk before he fixed Cassian with a hard stare. “You would desert the Alliance over Jyn Erso?”

Cassian wet his lips. Revealing such personal, emotional aspects to himself was… entirely against his nature. Jyn did not count. She was simply an extension of himself.

“I would choose her.” Cassian held the man’s war-weary, hardened gaze that still somehow seemed to have an iota of softness about the edges. “I have chosen her.”

We live together. Or we die together.

“She’s my partner.”

Draven sighed, but inclined his head.

“I’ll update the rosters. Make whatever alterations to the mission outline you view fit.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I don’t know if you should be thanking me, Andor,” Draven said, but an elusive smirk flitted across his face.

Cassian did not hide his smile as he left, to find Jyn, and to tell her she was the newest member of the Alliance Intelligence unit.

[hellsbellschime]

Why could you rant about the food on GoT?

Le sigh. Well okay, so I actually want to discuss this more in depth at a later time because there are many ways in which I have realized that Daenerys was actually an absolutely terrible queen, but the food situation in Westeros towards the end of the series is actually a perfect example of why Dany lost her quest for the Iron Throne before it even started. 

Kay, so the OG’s Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya conquered all of Westeros with three dragons. So Daenerys literally already knows that she can win the Iron Throne with three dragons and absolutely nothing else. And by the time she’s set to invade Westeros, she 100% believes that her dragons are nearly indestructible and infallible, so there’s really no reason for her to bring her whole ass army to Westeros, and yet she does anyway. 

It’s hard to say how big her army is at this point, but they make mention a few times that there are 100,000 Dothraki screamers, and that’s JUST the Dothraki. So it’s incredibly likely that Dany is invading Westeros IN WINTER with an army of OVER A HUNDRED THOUSAND PEOPLE. And this isn’t like a Westerosi army that’s made up of random citizens, this is an army of men who ONLY know how to fight. They can’t farm. They can’t build. They have no skills or ways to contribute to society besides making war. 

It’s pretty much an accepted and known fact that when winter comes in Westeros, people are going to die no matter what. It’s to the point that it is even a part of the culture of the North for people to voluntarily kill themselves so as to not take up resources. So if her plan had gone off as she had initially envisioned, Daenerys Targaryen would have invaded Westeros with a force that is equal to the population of a city with no long term plans for their actual sustenance. 

But it’s Dany, and her game plan is always to take what is hers with fire and blood. So if anyone is going to die when she and her army come to Westeros, it’s not going to be her and her army. So in theory, even if the Dothraki and Unsullied killed ZERO people in Westeros, their very presence means that an extra HUNDRED THOUSAND WESTEROSI are going to starve to death so that Dany’s army doesn’t have to. Dany doesn’t need them and the sudden stress of having another hundred thousand people in any one place would literally lead any city or country into almost immediate infrastructural collapse, but she wants them there and doesn’t even give a second thought to the fact that she’s going to kill a huge number of the people that she’s “liberating” for the sake of her having a massive and completely useless army in her presence at all times. 

The show did a horrible job of portraying this at the time because they were just trying to set up Sansa and Dany as foils to one another and they wanted Dany to have a badass retort of “whatever they want” when Sansa questions the food situation, but that quip deadass killed any chance Dany ever had of staying queen of Westeros for long. 

She’s literally sitting in the presence of the high lords of the North and the Vale, the two kingdoms hit hardest by any winter, and is straight up saying that she’s just going to take whatever she needs for her people to survive regardless of the fact that it’s a death sentence for thousands of the people there. In her mind she believes she’s here to save the North and she’s pissed that they’re not falling all over themselves to thank her, and at the very first moment that she actually addresses the lords of the North she LITERALLY tells them she does not give a fuck if they or their subjects live or die. The show completely underplayed what an absolutely HERCULEAN effort it must have taken Sansa to actually get enough food to keep the North alive through an entire winter, and not only does Daenerys disrespect Sansa’s effort, she makes it known that she will take whatever she wants regardless of the deadly consequences for the smallfolk. 

Everyone saw that the starving people of King’s Landing nearly unseated Cersei from the throne, and the scale of food shortage that they were experiencing in that moment was barely a fraction of what would have happened if Dany had just invaded Westeros and stayed there with her army. Honestly she was a huge asshole for burning the food in the Reach but for real that would have barely made a dent in the damage that she was about to do to the food situation in the Seven Kingdoms, if she had literally just done exactly what she had planned down to the letter then she would have completely decimated the country without having to burn anyone or do anything besides exist with her army in Westeros. 

[heliads]

One Moves On Chapter Three: Search Party

Stiles Stilinski doesn’t know what to think when he’s taken by the Ghost Riders. He’s grateful to be joined by Y/N L/N, although when he finally escapes, no one seems to remember her at all.

previous / series masterlist / next

It’s just starting to sink in now. Stiles had gone home, lain awake in his bed even as the hours passed by. Y/N can’t be dead, that’s impossible. Stiles had talked to her, laughed with her, wished he had spent more time with her. Either there are two Y/N L/Ns in Beacon Hills, one of them coincidentally dead, or Stiles might have actually gone out of his mind.

The next morning, Stiles takes a trip down to the Hale apartments. His feet tap endlessly on the floor of the elevator, unable to stay still. His knock echoes twice through the hallway, his knuckles rapping against the door. Peter takes his time answering, but when he does he doesn’t even give Stiles the customary sarcastic jibe. Stiles must look upset enough to warrant him a reprieve this once.

Peter glances across the hallway behind Stiles, as if making sure he hadn’t been followed, then ushers him in. The door clicks shut after him, but Stiles can’t find the energy to feel worried. After all that’s happened, being in the same room as Peter Hale doesn’t hold that same fear. Stiles isn’t sure whether that’s a good thing or not.

Peter folds his arms across his chest. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? I do hope it’s a thank you. I did save your life, you know. I made sure they remembered you. I got them the keys to the Jeep and everything.” Stiles waves a hand at him absentmindedly. “Yeah, yeah, thank you. I need to know what you remember about Y/N L/N.”

Peter raises an eyebrow. “I know she exists, if that’s what you're asking. What, did you leave her behind on the Wild Hunt? Still checking to make sure she’s not been taken again?” Stiles shakes his head. “I can’t find her. I asked Scott last night if he’d seen her, and he told me that she was dead.” Peter’s cocky sneer freezes. “What?”

Stiles finally looks directly at him. “Exactly. He told me that she died a few months ago saving us all from the Beast. I thought he was crazy, but everyone else says the exact same thing.” Peter nods. “You’re here to see if I remembered seeing her in the train station to make sure you haven’t gone insane?”

Stiles stares at him expectantly. “So you do remember her?” Peter gives him a look. “Of course I remember her. The two of you making your jokes for hours isn’t exactly an experience that’s easy to forget. Trust me, I wish I could, maybe over a bottle or two of whiskey, but that’s not the point. Yes, she was there. You’re not going insane.”

Stiles sighs, raking a hand through his hair. “So if she never died, then where is she? What do I do now?” Peter gestures towards the door. “You figure it out on your own time and leave me alone. I don’t have time for all of your pointless heroism. I saved your life once, never again.” Stiles protests as he’s directed unceremoniously to the door.

“She saved your life too! She fought to protect this town and your daughter. The least you could do was try to help return the favor.” Peter shrugs as Stiles stumbles back into the hallway. “I got you two out of the station. That’s enough to even the scales.” Peter goes to close the door in Stiles’ face, then hesitates. “I’ve heard of things like this happening before. After rifts open and close, people don’t always make it through. If I were you, I’d look into a little phenomenon called etheria.”

Stiles frowns at him, bewildered. “Etheria?” Peter gives him a pointed look. “Yes, etheria. Not all rifts open and close perfectly, and when there are mishaps, they’re called etheria. There are several hotspots for etheria across the world, where people appear or disappear.” Stiles sighs. “Why do I have a feeling that Beacon Hills is one of them?” Peter gives him a wolflike grin. “Because whenever something goes wrong, it’s Beacon Hills. There are a couple of hotspots nearby, I’d suggest that you look into them. Maybe you’ll find your girl.”

Stiles opens his mouth to protest over the description of ‘his girl’, but he closes it again lamely when he realizes that Peter isn’t exactly wrong. Peter’s hand tightens on the door. “This is the part where you thank me, and then leave. I’m done being charitable for the day.” Stiles mutters under his breath. “And what a day it has been.” Louder, he settles for an ounce of gratitude. “I do appreciate it, Peter. Really.”

Peter grunts. “You should. Goodbye, Stilinski. I hope to never see you again, or at least for another couple of months.” Stiles barely manages to eke out a “Me too” in reply before the door is slammed in his face. A small residue of anger bubbles up at this lack of hospitality, but Stiles is too busy turning over the possibility of a new lead in his head to truly feel annoyed. Etheria. What could that possibly mean?

Well, if there’s one thing Stiles can do well, it’s research. Scott and Malia may have claws and fangs, Lydia may be able to shatter glass with a scream, but Stiles can find the answers to anything. Give him a day or two, a well-functioning laptop, and an unhealthy amount of caffeine, and he could probably break into any building on the planet.

However, he doesn’t have to break into any buildings. All Stiles has to do is find out the rough locations of etheria hotspots. Peter was right- there is one in Beacon Hills, where Y/N disappeared, and there are a few others scattered across the globe. There are 13 in total, dispersed throughout the continents. They all occur in places with high amounts of supernatural activity, which is why Beacon Hills was one. The others are farther away, but Stiles has never objected to a road trip, and he certainly won’t now.

As he learns more about the etheria phenomenon, Stiles is surprised that he hadn’t heard about it sooner. It’s a minor miracle that everyone except Y/N made it out of the Ghost Riders’ train station safely- whenever there’s a rift in the universe, things always go wrong. Stiles just wishes that the one person dragged away from him wasn’t the one person he’s come to count on in times of need. 

As he researches, Stiles finds himself thinking more about Y/N. How could he have not gotten to know her better? She was just like him- no supernatural abilities, no fast healing or claws or glowing eyes. Just a human heartbeat and a pair of knives in her hands, and the courage to never back down from a fight. He remembers fighting with her in the past, a baseball bat in his hands and another weapon in hers. He’d felt a rush of gratitude that she had his back, but he’d always moved on afterwards. Why hadn’t he stayed?

It’s not like he didn’t know where she was. Y/N attended Beacon Hills High, the same school where Stiles and Scott and everybody else went day after day. They might not have had the same schedule, but they could have at least hung out after classes. To be honest, Stiles finds himself tinged with regret that he didn’t make more of an effort to see her.

However, Y/N also had the opportunity to hang out with the pack, and she never took him up on it. Stiles thinks he’d asked her once, back before the train station or the Wild Hunt had even existed to him. She’d said something about wanting to keep her distance, and how she wanted to have a life outside of the supernaturals. Stiles couldn’t exactly blame her, and he’d wanted to respect her choices. That being said, Stiles can’t help but wonder if she’d change her mind now that-

Well, now that what? Now that she’d been stuck in the Wild Hunt along with him, been annoyed at Peter, had the misfortune of being trapped by etheria and ending up hundreds of miles away from her home, would she feel any different? Stiles knows he certainly has. He has no idea how long he’d been stuck in the grasp of the Ghost Riders, but he knows it was long enough to change his mind about Y/N. He wants to see her again, wants to go to school and walk with her through the halls. The thought of seeing her across a crowded corridor and simply looking the other way doesn’t feel right. He couldn’t leave her behind, not if he tried.

Stiles ends up searching most of the weekend before he finds the locations of the etheria hotspots. Peter was frustratingly vague about how to find them, but Stiles has a sneaking suspicion that the werewolf wasn’t trying to hinder his progress, merely that he also had no idea how to find Y/N. The records on etheria are minimal at best, which makes sense- anyone who experienced being sucked away to another hotspot would be unable to complete their research, as they’d be in a completely different country. Maybe even another continent.

In the end, Stiles manages to come up with a rough assortment of hotspots. There are a few places with high amounts of supernatural activity which look like excellent places to start. The only problem is that there are twelve other locations where Y/N could be, and he has no idea where to begin searching. Does he try the east coast, or stick to the west? Does he give up on North America entirely and try France or something?

It would be helpful if Stiles could question Scott or Malia or anyone who knows anything about tracking people. The only problem is that etheria comes with definite downsides- namely, that anyone pulled away through a rift to a different hotspot is forgotten by those who once knew them. Etheria literally means that victims- or the etherials- cease to be real to their friends and family. By being cast aside through the rift and not properly returning home, the spell of the Ghost Riders is technically still holding true. Until Y/N steps foot into the hotspot where she belongs, Beacon Hills, no one will remember her except Stiles.

This seems like a herculean task. What if Y/N has started moving from her hotspot? What if she was found by supernaturals and killed? For the first time, the reality of this job is beginning to sink in. The chances of Stiles finding her are practically impossible. But then memories of Y/N start to filter back into place- the way she’d laughed at his jokes, even the worst ones that only received a smile or a grimace. The way she’d had his back against hunters and monsters and everything they’d gone through. Even back at the train station, when he’d wanted to give up and stop looking for a way out, she’d given him hope. No, Stiles can’t leave her. Not after everything they’ve been through. Not after everything they could do together.

Stiles is about to stop research when he finds one last manuscript. It’s a PDF that some blessed historian uploaded, full of old-timey grammar and words that Stiles thinks were probably last popular in the fifth century. Stiles is scanning it, one hand pressed to his temples as if the brief contact alone can will him through the headache currently descending on him due to the density of the text, when he sees it.

It’s an explanation on how to reach people who were caught unawares by etheria. A way to reliably calculate which hotspot the etherials would be pulled into, and how to find them before they wander too far away and are lost forever. If you chart each etheria hotspot on a map and draw lines connecting each one, they seem to form triangles that crisscross all over the globe. Simply look for a point in the same triangle as the base hotspot, one that is surrounded by at least three other triangles. The triangles form a net of energy, one that will draw the given etherial to a specific hotspot. The pattern is frustratingly random enough to an observer that the hotspot appearances seem vague, but once you know the trick, it all falls into place.

Stiles leans back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. This is it- the way to finally reach Y/N. Quickly, he pulls up a map, drawing out the hotspots and the triangles just like the manuscript directed. He pauses, one finger on the hotspot over Beacon Hills and the other searching for the triangles that will direct him towards Y/N’s hotspot. He looks, brow furrowed, and then he finds it.

If his calculations are correct- and Stiles has fairly good reason to think that they are- Y/N was dragged away to a small town called Crow Rock. It’s actually not that far away from Beacon Hills- well, not compared to the other ones. It may be a couple of hours drive, but it’s on the same continent. That’s a start, at least.

Stiles jots down the address, then stands, pushing in his chair at his desk. There’s no guarantee that this will work. Y/N could be long gone by then, either by hitching a ride or by being killed. The triangle trick from the manuscript could be a complete fake, and he could be wasting a day’s drive for nothing. Then again, Y/N is out there somewhere, lost and with no idea how she got there. Stiles owes it to her to find her, to bring her home.

This may be a fool’s errand, but Stiles has been a fool before. At least now it is for her.

one moves on tag list: @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch​, @blahhhhhhhaaa​

[perriewinklenerdie]

Lights in your eyes (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Claire Herondale

Word count: 2,3 k

Summary: Moments of Ethan and Claire’s New Year’s Eve party.

Warnings: a swear word here or there, mentions of adult situations

A/N: It’s all fluff with these two. Couldn’t stop myself. I also really would like to see Ethan and Tobias finally work their shit out, it has potential, I’m telling you

“Who would have thought we’d ever get to do this again, huh?” Tobias snickered, pushing Ethan’s shoulder playfully. The other doctor scoffed, leaning away a bit with a hint of a grin.

“Old habits die hard, I suppose. I still can’t believe I actually let you talk me into this.” Ethan cleared his throat, straightening his back a bit as they both waited for the door to open. Right before they did, Tobias laughed.

“We both know that it’s not me that talked you into going to the New Year’s Eve party. It’s a promise of seeing Herondale.”

Before Ethan could protest, the door opened, revealing a slightly intoxicated Baz, who with a wide smile, threw both arms over their shoulders and dragged them inside. Ethan didn’t even try to argue, knowing damn well that any form of resistance would be futile with the cheery doctor.

“Happy almost New Year, guys! You’re just in time, we were about to turn on some music.” he walked them in, shutting the door behind them. “The food is right here, the drinks are over there. if you need anything, ask.”

And with that, he went into the crowd and the two doctors lost him. They exchanged a brief look, after which Tobias nodded and left Ethan alone, going to fetch himself a drink. That left Ramsey on his own, his eyes immediately scanning the room in search of the blonde doctor. He failed in his search, confusion clouding his mind for a brief moment. All of a sudden, his hand was grabbed by someone and he was spinning the other way around, his arms immediately full.

Claire rose onto the tips of her toes, guiding Ethan with her hand against his cheek into a soft kiss. His surprise melted away with each move of her lips, arms wrapping around her to pull her closer. With a low hum, he lost himself in her, reveling in the sparks of endorphins that her closeness elicited.

“Get it, Ramsey!” Tobias shouted, whistling loudly at the pair. Ethan waved his hand at him halfheartedly, returning it to Claire’s waist immediately after. The pair couldn’t hear the teasing calls of people surrounding them if they tried.

His hands wandered her body, seemingly with a mind of their own, but Ethan was very much aware of what he was discovering, from the lacy fabric of her top to the very short skirt that exposed her legs in the best way possible. Every single sane thought he might have had in that moment had disappeared, his mind overcome by her intoxicating smell and things she was doing to him with her hands in his hair.

He moved his lips to her cheek, caressing her face while she let some oxygen into her lungs. “I thought you said you wouldn’t come.” She breathed out heavily, the tips of her fingers dipping beneath the fabric of his shirt. His heart skipped a beat, his mind creating very suggestive images, far too risky for the place they were currently in. “Though, I have to say, I was hoping you would change your mind. I always wondered what it would be like to be wrapped in your arms as the new year started.”

Ethan’s groan was barely noticeable by others, the loud music, courtesy of Bryce, masking most of it. Claire, however, knew very well that it was there, smirking as she leaned away.

“You’re entirely too distracting.” He admitted, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear when they separated for good. She grinned, pulling him closer for a split second with a smirk.

“But you love it.”

“That I do.”

~

They moved to the spot holding drinks, talking quietly among themselves. Ethan’s face twisted in displeasure at the sight of various colorful drinks, much to Claire’s amusement. With exaggerated flourish, she poured him a glass of whiskey and presented him with it, grinning at the way his expression cleared up.

She’s never seen him this relaxed at the party. With his arm around her waist, they made rounds among party attendees. He told a joke or two, didn’t complain about the choice of music or about the noise level; Claire would even go ahead and say that he enjoyed himself. Months into their relationship, he seemed to develop some sort of an immunity to parties, or at the very least, learned to survive them with her help.

Bryce declared himself the DJ, not letting anyone else dictate what song was playing. He decided on a rather slow song, though it was anything but romantic; it was carried by desire, the rhythm begging their bodies to move.

Ethan was the one to initiate the dance, squeezing her hip before pulling Claire to the secluded corner of the room, their faces coming closer as the song rang in the air. She wrapped her hands around his neck, pulling him to her. The proximity was enough to allow them to hear each other’s heavy breathing, the notion sending sparks of interest running down their spines.

“Pity we’re in the crowd.” He muttered into her ear, twirling her out and right back into his waiting arms, dipping her low towards the ground and throwing her back into his embrace, an inviting smirk on his features.

“What would you do if we weren’t?” Claire asked, wrapping her leg around his calf, her eyes sparkling playfully, challenging him to answer. Ethan’s hold on her tightened, their hips meeting in a suggestive manner as they danced.

“I would push you up against the wall.” He whispered hotly into her ear, taking great pleasure in the way her hands ran up his neck. “Brush that silly excuse of a skirt up your thighs and tease your skin until you were begging for more.” His words had an immediate effect on both of them, his breath losing its consistency, taking up an irregular beat instead, matching the rhythm of her heart. “Make you take my fingers until you couldn’t help but cry out my name-“

“Ramsey, either tone down with the flirting or get a room!” Tobias was the one to interrupt their inappropriate at the very least exchange, a shit-eating grin taking up his face. This time, it was Claire that smirked as she showed him her ring finger instead of her middle finger, her own spin of the rude gesture that wasn’t as offensive.

“I’d say you’re bothered by something.” Claire called out, twisting to face Tobias, letting Ethan’s arms fall around her hips. “How about some therapy?”

“I’d love to have some therapy with a woman as beautiful as you, but I already went down this road once. Our Ethan here doesn’t appreciate sharing.” He shot back, winking at her playfully. “Can’t blame him, though. I wouldn’t want to share you, either.”

“Lucky for me, I don’t have to.” Ethan pressed her against him, a proud smile residing on his lips. “I’m gonna be here as long as she wants me to.”

“You mean all the time, then. That’s a long time you’re signing up for.”

“We both know that I don’t mind that in the slightest.”

~

The more drinks they had, the bolder Claire was getting. She often joked about how she was going to dance on the table one of those days, but he always laughed at the idea as though it was a joke. Well, that day, it became apparent that it wasn’t a joke after all.

At one point of the evening, they separated. Ethan kept mostly to himself, taking his time to talk to his colleagues. In the meantime, Claire made rounds among her friends. She kicked their ass in beer pong, destroyed Rafael and Kyra in Just Dance (she winked at Ethan over her shoulder as the song ended, being rewarded with a warm hint of a smile from him) and annihilated the rest of the party in medical trivia with Jackie and Sienna as her teammates.

She’s had more than enough to drink by that point, so when Elijah dared her to dance on the table, she was more than game. Climbing onto the table, barely managing to balance on her high heels without falling, she threw her hands up in triumph.

“Bryce, turn the music up, I want to dance- oh!”

She twisted and turned, but before she could lose her balance, she found herself in the very safe embrace of Ethan Ramsey, who wrapped her in his arms and pulled her down from the table.

“No, I don’t think so. Come here.”

Claire fell onto his shoulders, her skirt riding up dangerously higher. He brushed the material downwards, saving her some embarrassment and party attendees some intriguing sights at the very least.

He walked them to the room on the side of the building, only then letting her feet touch the ground. She placed her hands on his shoulders, firmly gripping him as she slid down the front of his body.

“My hero.” She mumbled, pressing her lips to his neck. It took herculean effort to brush her advances away, especially when she was this enticing, but he knew better. He found a place for them to sit, gathering her into his arms and pulling her into his arms to keep her comfortable.

“Do you need to rest?” Ethan asked, brushing her hair behind her shoulder. She shook her hand, twisting in his embrace until she straddled him.

“I need you.”

“I’m flattered, Rookie, but now’s not the time. Tell me what else you need.”

She squeezed her eyes, looking at him suspiciously, then leaned forward to kiss him softly. With her lips against his, she whispered.

“I really do need you. Only you. Right here, with me.”

“Then that’s what you shall have.” He nodded, pressing a soothing kiss to her forehead, and wrapping his arms around her tighter.

~

“I found them!” Jackie opened the door, shouting over her back. Ethan looked away from the window, sitting both him and Claire up slowly. “You guys finally got decent at hiding. Lord knows you both sucked at it back in the day.”

The pair shared an amused look, standing up and straightening their clothes before going back. She caught his hand, tangling their fingers together, lazy smile lighting up Ethan’s face.

The main room holding the party hasn’t changed all that much since they last saw it. The lights dimmed, there was significantly less food and alcohol on the counters and the music was much more chaotic than it used to be. This time, it was Claire that pulled Ethan into her arms and onto the dancefloor, pressing their cheeks together. Despite the music not entirely fitting the mood they were in, they danced closely to one another, light smiles residing on their features.

“I could spend the whole night with you. Right here, in my arms.” He mused under his breath, looking right into her eyes with determination.

“You bet I’ll be in your arms for the whole night. In more ways than one.” Claire promised, winking at him cheekily and observing with delight how a gentle blush crept up his neck and onto his cheeks.

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Then what else am I supposed to do?”

A helpless grin was all he could manage before his lips found hers, gently kissing her, as though it was easier than breathing air. Their surroundings blended into a marvelous fusion of sights and sounds, drowning out everything.

~

Midnight was crawling closer and closer, and with that, a new year, full of possibilities. Ethan twirled Claire up until it was minutes until the countdown, at which point, she pulled him outside, their bodies shielded from the view by the alcove.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you wanted to get me alone.” He grinned, turning them around to press her against the column. She traced her hand around his neck, drawing their bodies a bit closer.

“Where would you even get that idea? I’m just enjoying my time with boyfriend.”

Before he could come up with some witty response, his body was hauled onto hers, brought closer by her hands, gripping his shoulders to pull him closer, and by her legs, wrapping around him to press their bodies as close as physics would allow.

They became entangled in a wild wave of desire and longing, stealing each other’s breaths and peeking into each other’s minds. Ethan grounded his hips into hers, a broken groan falling from his lips at the sensation. Claire smiled against him, letting his head trail downwards to tease the skin of her neck and chest, the flimsy fabric of her top giving way to his fingers. A wave of goosebumps washed over her body, the sensations he was eliciting pulling her away from the reality.

Fireworks suddenly erupted in the sky, illuminating their faces, lights reflected in their eyes. They broke the kiss, both of them turning towards the colorful show, high above their heads. Claire remained focused on the various images on the grand navy background, missing the way Ethan focused solely on her. He caught the smallest changes in her expressions; how closely she examined the shapes high above them; how the loud explosions make her twitch slightly, how the cheers of her friends pulled her attention away from the place she was in for just a little while.

And then she came back to him, truly and completely, staring at him with wonder in her eyes. Her hands traced the features of his face, her fingers brushing the lines of his cheekbones tenderly.

“Happy New Year.” Claire muttered, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. Ethan gathered her into his arms once more, getting lost in the way her green irises sparkled with happiness.

“With you, every year is going to be happy.”

Notes

Thank you so much for being here with me for another year. Each and every one of you is amazing and I’m grateful that you’re on this wild ride by my side <3 See you guys in the new year, let’s hope it’s gonna be better than the one we’re saying goodbye to.

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