#she was in constant pain for ten thousand years and he just did nothing???

[bleadingheartart]

Rereading Nona the Ninth and I-

Jod could have cured Cytherea’s cancer??? The whole time??? And he what just didn’t?! Wtf sir

[specialagentlokitty]

Master chief x Male!reader - everybody needs somebody

Hello my attention has been cought i have been a simp for Master Chief for a while now and the heavens have blessed me with your blog can i maybe request a Master Chief x male reader with prompt 3? - @ryotsugikuni 💜

3. “He/she/they carry more anger and pain then the whole universe combined, I can see it. Betrayal, hurt, deception, heartache, they’ve been through it all. He/she/they walked through hell a thousand times.” “Why are you telling me this?” “Because the only time I’ve ever seen true peace in his/her’s/their eyes is when he/she/they saw you.”

Some people had their choice of jobs that they could do, with skills or qualifications like no other.

Others didn’t have this job freedom, and for you, going into the marines was the best thing for you at the time, and you were good at it.

You loved your job, you loved fixing things, so it was a no brainer when it came to being a mechanic for the UNSC, and it was no shock when you were put on reach to aid them.

Everywhere needed mechanics to fix things, and reach was no different, the only part that was different was the types of soldiers on there and the missions they did.

It was how you met the Spartans, you had been fixing their gear long enough that whenever something needed sorting they just came straight to you instead of letting it run down the chain of command.

You knew how they all liked things done, you knew who would be willing to wait and who needed it sorted straight away.

It was how you met John as well, and he was curious about you, he’d seen you around training, and you were better than most of the marines that just seemed to half ass everything, you were dedicated, but you weren’t out fighting like everybody else.

In fact, you never left reach.

Whereas everybody else did every so often rotate out, you didn’t, you were one of the only constant soldiers on that whole planet, and you didn’t seem to care about it.

Thats when he decided to approach you, while you were working out in the gym.

“Why do you never leave?”

You blinked, turning around to the Spartan, trying to process his straight forward approach.

“Huh? Leave where? The gym? Because I do I swear.”

“No. Reach. You never leave reach, you’ve seemingly been here as long as we have.”

You laughed a little bit, shaking your head.

“No, I’ve been here maybe ten years though. Give it take I suppose.”

John sat down on the bench in front of you, watching as you went back to your pull ups.

“Why?”

“Why do I stay? Or why don’t I leave?”

“Aren’t they the same thing?”

“Depending on who you ask, my answer will vary depending on what you ask me.”

John studied your for a moment, and you hung down from the bars, giving him a little grin.

“Maybe I just enjoy it here, who knows.”

“Why don’t you leave?”

You hummed a little bit, going back to doing a few more pull ups before you dropped down, heading to your water bottle.

You stood in front of him, and he sat patently waiting for your reply.

“I don’t leave because there’s nothing else for me anywhere else. Here I at least have a bed, a job and some food.”

“I see. Why do you stay?”

“I stay because I love my job.”

You grinned brightly at him.

“Officer (Y/N) (L/N), pleasure to meet you formally John 117. I’m the one that fixes your armour, guns, and ships.”

With that, you picked your shirt up, tossing it over your shoulder as you left the gym to go back to your room.

That’s how you first formally met one another, and from then you found yourself seeing him around a lot more.

You didn’t mind it, it was nice to have a friend who wasn’t going to be leaving Reach, somebody who was there all the time just like you were.

John wasn’t all too talkative, but you had that covered, you could talk for days and he would just sit there and listen to you.

Today was no different, you were sat having dinner, telling John about some damage on his suit while he just sat opposite you listening.

“I may have to replace some of the inner wiring in your helmet if that’s alright?”

John blinked a few times.

“Okay. I will bring it by your office in the morning.”

“Actually, could you bring it by later on tonight? I’m on call so something to work on will be great.”

John nodded his head, turning back to the file that he was originally reading.

You turned back to your own work, humming under your breath as you picked up your pen.

“What is that?”

“What’s what John?” You asked.

“The humming you’re doing, what is it?”

“It’s a song, I can’t remember the name or the words, just the tune. But it’s nice. Don’t you listen to music?”

He glanced up from his file.

“No.”

“Damn man, you really should, you’re missing out you know.”

“Why do you like music?”

“I guess it’s just a good distraction, and it can help me work through my emotions.”

He nodded his head.

“Will you show me music?”

You laughed softly, smiling up at him.

“Yeah, I’ll show you music John. I’ll show you some when you bring by the helmet.”

You got up, grabbed your things and excused yourself, heading back to your office.

You were so focused on your work you nearly missed the sound of a shout from somewhere in the hallway.

Glancing at the clock, you saw you had been at it for hours, and that it was early morning.

Getting up, you made your way into the hallway, and you looked around, following the sound.

“Rizz, Kai, Vennick, what’s wrong?”

“Something is wrong with the chief.”

They pointed down the hallway, and you looked to see John holding his head in his hands.

“Alright guys, can you go get a doctor, Kai go around make sure he doesn’t try run.”

They did as you asked, and you slowly walked over.

“John?”

He shook his head, mumbling something you couldn’t understand, but he was angry, you knew that much.

“John? Hey.”

You stood in front of him, and he backed away from you, back against the wall.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s me. It’s (Y/N). The annoying ass engineer.”

John looked at you.

“I need you to sit down, can you sit down for me?”

John nodded, slowly sitting himself down, and you knelt in front of him.

“John what’s going on?”

He shook his head, and you smiled a little.

“Alright, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t want to talk about it…” he grumbled.

“Okay, that’s cool man. Do you wanna just sit here? Or come to my office?”

“I will come to your office.”

You nodded your head, standing up with him, and you escorted him to your office, letting him go inside.

You turned around to the other three Spartans.

“Thanks guys, go get some rest, I’ll send John through when he’s calmed down.”

“He is calm.” Vennick said.

“I don’t quite thinks so.”

“He is.” Rizz nodded.

You furrowed your brows at them both.

“How do you know?”

None of them said anything, so you walked into your office and sat down on the couch next to him.

“I am sorry I’m keeping you from your work.

You knocked your shoulder into his.

“It’s cool, I’m down for blowing off work anyways.” You grinned.

“Will you show me the music?”

“Yeah, come here.”

You took him over to the console in the corner of the room, and you began showing him all the different songs you had.

John stood next to you, invested in what you were showing him, and he touched one of the song titles, playing that song.

“This is very loud.”

“Yeah rock isn’t for everybody.”

“I don’t mind it.”

“Who woulda thought Master chief was a rock kinda dude.”

He looked at you and you grinned brightly.

“Where can I find this?” He asked.

“On my console, none of the others have it but I build mine out of boredom, but you’re welcome to come and listen to music whenever you want.”

“Thank you.”

You pat his back a few times.

“Hang around here for a little bit, I’ll send everybody away.”

“Thank you.”

You nodded, heading to a different console while John explored the music that you had on the other console.

It was quiet, with John occasionally asking you about some songs or to help him find something.

After a few hours there was a knock on your office door, and John snapped his head to it.

You raised your hand to him.

“I’ll see who it is.”

Walking over, you opened it to find Miranda stood there.

“Hey, I heard there was some troubles with john, is he alright?”

“Yeah, yeah he’s alright he’s in here.”

She smiled, nodding her head.

“Can I see him?”

You held up a hand, turned to John nodded his head and you let the doctor in so she could go and talked to him.

You walked to the other side of the room and sat on the couch while you waited, and eventually Miranda walked over to sit with you.

“He won’t talk with me, but he seems to be okay in here. Can he stay here with you?”

“Yeah, he’s always welcome here.”

You turned to look at her.

“You know, I’ve realised something.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

She looked at you.

“He carries more anger and pain than the whole universe combined, I can see it. Betrayal, hurt, deception, heartache, he’s been through it all. He walked through hell a thousand times.”

You glanced at John then turned to her once again .

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because the only time I’ve ever seen true peace in his eyes is when he saw you.”

You looked at John, and he was looking at you with a mixture of curiosity and calmness.

You smiled at him, turning back to Miranda.

“He needs a friend.”

“It looks like he found a friend.” She said

[fearthhereaper]

Finally finished my The Originals rewatch and I have a few thoughts that I didn't have the first time I watched it, back when it was airing.

Klaus's character assassination in TO has been a well-known fact for years now so nothing new in that area. Klaus was my favorite character during my TVDU fangirl era even in spite of it all. He was by far the most interesting character to me, but I have to say that during the rewatch I found myself enjoying Elijah and his complexity to the point where Klaus and his constant over the top theatrics bored me at certain points. The baby plot was stupid, but then again I always thought that, and the only good thing it gave me was Hayley Marshall and Klayley.

Klayley was...as beautiful, as interesting, as iconic as ever. Truly one of my biggest ships of all time, by far the best dynamic in the show imo....but I have to say, as an ex-Haylijah hater, they ate sometimes. Chemistry wise - they're really good. The story is still weird to me but the chemistry really sold most of their scenes this time around. I don't necessarily ship them, because I still think Elijah's feelings exist due to wrong reasons but I can see Hayley's side of it very clearly and I don't dislike it nearly as much as I had the first time around. They really pulled me in during certain scenes, so that was interesting and new.

Marbekah was always a fine ship that didn't really do it for me but now....damn do I hate it. It's so painful to watch and I genuinely don't believe those two love each other enough to pull all the shit they did. I don't believe that she groomed him, at least not intentionally, so it's not even the usual issue of her watching him grow up that's putting me off, it's just the fact that they truly didn't need to do all that because the Epic Love™ feeling they were going for was just not present.

Camille's storyline in s1 was legit so good, it didn't feel like she existed purely as Klaus's love interest. Her storyline in that season was so interesting and one of my favorites from the whole show. S2!Cami, she existed a bit more for Klaus, and I don't even want to mention s3!Cami that was turned into a vampire for no reason only to be killed off for no reason, in both cases when she was finally getting a new (probably very interesting) storyline. I didn't like the whole "I have darkness in me thing" but her storyline in s1 left such a good impression on me that I felt genuinely robbed by her premature death. (but then again the whole show sucked after s3 so maybe her character dodged a bullet)

Freya could've been a Klaus 2.0, instead we got a family therapist older sister whose job was to cast spells and make speeches about her family. S2!dark!Freya is who Freya should've been and stayed and there should've been far more tension between her and Klaus. She adapted way to quickly to having so many siblings, she was somehow the wiser older sister despite living ten years to her siblings' thousand. A shame that the creators for some reason hated dark characters, they made all Mikaelsons far too soft. She can be morally dubious and still love her family bffr.

I felt much more sympathy for Finn and his situation. His very understandable hatred for all Mikaelsons except Freya and his mother. He had every right to try to off them all, sorry.

And to finish it off with Rebekah Mikaelson who suffered the same character assassination that her brother did because who the fuck is TO! Rebekah. As far as I'm concerned TVDs3!Rebekah is the only Rebekah that is in character. From the random maturity she gained in all of three months between TVD and TO, to the painful motherhood woes, i-wish-i-was-human woes, her character became a completely different and frankly...a very boring person. Suddenly she's the one keeping Klaus and Elijah out of trouble.... Rebekah???? REBEKAH??? is keeping Elijah out of trouble....went from living a thousand years as their spoiled baby sister to I'm suddenly the mommy keeping the order of the playhouse.

[koumine]

🦑 take your tentacle monster on a date 🦑/ Ruri-chan headcanon [OM!] [tentacle monster Reader/Leviathan]

check out the first snippet from this fic here! -> [link]

content tags: tentacle monster!Reader / Leviathan, gender neutral reader, monster courting, fluff, humor, eldritch vibes, communication issues between a tentacle monster & a humanoid demon, my attempt at a Ruri-chan headcanon, one tiny mention of breeding (literally 2 words)

[rated T below] [WIP ZONE]

Courting Leviathan, it turns out, involves a lot more talking than you had thought it would. He’s still pretty damn adorable, bringing you gifts of strange little figurines and textiles and babbling on and on about them. But you don’t understand his fascination with them, or the need to amass so many of them when they all look so similar to you, though of course you safely secret away everything he gives you into a pocket dimension. Until one day, when you come up to meet him in the cool shallows just below the drop-off, and he beams happily as he tells you that this is his favorite and hands you a little clear rectangular prism with air trapped inside along with an idol of -- You hurl the box away from you, your tentacles writhing and flinching in fright. The Mistress of Poison! you howl.

“Hey!” Leviathan cries, snagging the box as it soars by him. “Why did you do that?!” You inch away from him, and the terrifying mint-condition idol he’s cradling in his arms. You have doomed us both, you wail mournfully. None can touch the Mistress of Poison’s unholy idols but for her most dedicated acolytes! He looks confused. “Um, this is just a regular-edition figurine, you can get these anywhere -- I would give you a nicer one, at least an SSR, but I haven’t quite worked out the waterproofing enchantments yet, and I wouldn’t want to waste a limited-edition SSR if it’s just going to get crushed by the pressure when you go home… But here, I doubt you care about mint-condition collecting, so you can touch this one!” And he opens the package, releasing the air in a stream of bubbles, and reaches in -- NO! you roar, and seize his arm to keep him from touching the idol, from being tainted by its venomous corruption and dooming himself, and he flinches so hard that he drops the box and it goes sailing through the water. And lands, open side first, on the tip of one of your tentacles. The idol is touching you. You shriek so loud it kills a nearby school of fish, and nearly tear a hole in the fabric of reality to hurl yourself away from this horrible plane of existence, before you realize -- you feel nothing. No pain. The tentacle touched by the idol is not withering away into a warped husk, no deadly corrupting venom is clawing its way through your being, the ten thousand voices of the Mistress of Poison are not crooning their song of murder into your mind. You’re fine. And Leviathan is holding your tentacle. “Are you okay?” he says, eyes wide with concern for you. You shrink down a little, drawing your tentacles inward. (Including the one Leviathan is holding. This brings him closer to you. Nice.) I am very confused, you admit. You offer the box back to him. This idol is safe to touch? “Yes,” he says, looking confused himself as he takes the box. “It’s just a plastic figurine. Ruri-chan doesn’t poison her fans.” He glances aside. “Anymore.” Ruri-chan, you echo slowly. A fittingly horrendous new name for the Mistress of Poison. He smiles, and gives a happy little giggle, looking at the idol fondly. “I know, right? She’s so cunning and adaptable!” Yes, you agree. You look at the idol, too. The “figurine”. Please tell me more about the recent exploits of the Mistress Ruri-chan, you say. I fear my seclusion in the depths has left me ignorant of Her Venomousness’ latest pursuits. He beams happily with his teeny tiny humanoid teeth, and launches into an adorably excited babble about the last five thousand years of Poisonous news, to which you listen attentively, frequently exclaiming in excitement, in between snacking on the fish you killed earlier, which your tentacles started grabbing as soon as you realized you weren’t about to die. (You try to feed some to Leviathan, but apparently he can’t talk and eat at the same time, so he only eats a couple, before rambling on. It’s ok, you’ll kill a proper meal for him to eat later. Maybe that mega-megalodon is still around?)

She infiltrated the human world? you exclaim. “Yes!” And didn’t poison them all?? “No, listen, you haven’t heard the rest yet --” You munch on your snacks, listening intently. “...and now she uses flower magic to destroy evil demons!” Flower-based poisons, you muse, sagely nodding several hundred eye-stalks, a truly ingenious means of keeping her foes at bay. “Exactly!!” He does an excited little wiggle in the water, and continues. She sang a diabolic duet with Levistus?? you exclaim, sometime later. “I know, right??” And I MISSED IT??? you screech, brandishing several half-eaten fish in agitation. He smirks at you. He’s still holding your tentacle, which makes your other tentacles shiver with joy. “I have the concert special episode on my D.D.D.,” he says. “We can watch it together!” Yes, you say immediately. A Date, a Proper Humanoid Date, aaaaa you are the luckiest direct descendant of Mighty Cthulhu to have ever spawned. “Oh, but …” His face falls a little. “My D.D.D. is only waterproofed to twenty meters.” He gives you a hesitant look. “You’ll have to come up to the surface…” You do your best to suppress the instinctive shiver, tightening your grip on his hand. Do I have to go … on land? you ask weakly. For him, you would, but… “No, the reef is shallow enough,” he says, “you can stay fully submerged the whole time.” Oh, you say, and relax. Reefs are fine. Tasty, though not filling. Let’s go then!

You watch the concert together with him at the edge of the reef, on a tiny little rectangular spell-stone that Leviathan summons and holds in both hands. Sadly, you don’t get to hold his hand during it. But he does let you cuddle up close to him, and blushes and smiles so delectably when you show restraint and carefully lay one (1) tentacle across his shoulders and along his arm. The concert is devastatingly good. You love everything about the new Ruri-chan, and continue to be incredibly satisfied that you pledged to tithe a portion of your ongoing soul collection to her all those eons ago. Your happy screeching (and your attempts to sing along with the one song you know, an old deep-sea trench classic) shatter a swath of nearby coral and shake a bunch of fresh fish and crustacean carcasses loose from the reef floor, so there are also snacks for your Date, oh infinite hells, it’s so perfect. Leviathan even eats everything you hand him, this time, prickling sea slugs and hornet shrimp and anemone-laden chunks of coral, and as he munches contentedly away at the snacks while watching Ruri-chan dance a dance of decomposition and destruction and decay, you feel the constant howling of feed your mate stuff him full feed him breed him FEED HIM in the back of your mind quiet down to a low hiss for the first time in an eon.

read more? -> [masterlist]

[monsoonblooms12]

Priyotomo (Ethan Ramsey x f!MC)

Summary: The Last Day at Amazon and Ethan's first day back at Boston from Ethan and Pooja's POV

Priyotom(o/a): (Bengali) Dearest, Most Beloved

A/N: Time for another hopeless attempt at poetry!! Anyway, this is my take on Dr Ethan Ramsey running to the Amazons. I really hope that this is not absolute crap and makes so sense🧡

Thank you so much to Simone for Pre-reading! Love you Gurl🧡

If you enjoyed the story, please like it, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going🤎

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Pooja Sharma)

Word Count: around 1.8K

Rating: General

Category: Angst

Warnings: (Very Brief) Mentions of blood, fainting and drinking

Title Inspo: Priyotomo Hai - Rabindra Sangeet (Rabindranath Tagore's composition)

OTHER WORKS

Pooja

16 years.

The date was displayed with vivid eloquence by the woody beige cubes that adorned the desk, posing a match with the minimalism of the room.

It was a preposterous fact.

Glassy ambers switched perspective in a progressive motion, and they interpreted the solitary shine of the table lamp on the transparent surface.

Four glowing smiles, two tiny toddlers sat on their parents' lap.

It does not feel surreal. Neither a tale of a bygone era.

It was not her past. It was her present, her life's gears were turned by this very photograph.

Her bracelet adorned hand held it close to her heart, which beat in a meteoric rhythm.

The cacophonous tunes from the fiesta painfully pierced through her reverie, cajoling her to close the mahogany doors that lead to her cocoon.

The flamboyant kantha stitched lehenga proved to be burdensome to carry.

With ponderous steps, Pooja settled down on the couch, pulling her feet to herself.

She wanted to be ten again. Not eleven.

Terminate the time when she could be that blithe girl, rolling dices with her mother.

But there was a specific reason why the reminisces came back stronger than any usual day.

Somewhere in the remote land, in a cholera-stricken district, a summery blue-eyed man spent his days in seclusion.

And occupied the chambers of her cerebral hemispheres.

What was the pain of being left alone with only emotions as a companion without as much as a message?

She wiped her cheek, only to discover the black of her eyeliner now adorning her fingers.

She had been crying.

When? She could not feel the tears that left smokey meanders on the map of her face.

The heartbreak and the circumstances had numbed her feelings. All she wanted was an embrace.

Why did his peach lips mark her as his if this was the end in sight?

She refused to accept it. The end.

She placed her foot down, not feeling the pierce of a pin fallen down against her skin.

Drops of scarlet marked her track as she retouched the smear of her face.

Time to go and socialize.

Ethan

Of everything to look at in the shiny cellular, his eyes now traced the pristine form of the lady who now inhabited every one of his senses.

The comely picture made her look ravishing and the adamant neurons started pulling out manila folders with her memories kept in them.

No. He cannot.

The fiery golden liquid disappeared faster than it had been poured.

He had found himself on the crossroad of whether to type out the words that played in a loop in his mind or not.

I miss you!

He always chose the latter.

He had already given her a false hope.

Of a future of them.

He did not want to do it again.

Only now he realizes that it was a hope he had given himself as well when he first took that sacred form of hers into his arms.

And that he ran away. Like a coward.

Ethan Ramsey the coward.

Who could not fight for them.

Who could not fight for her.

Who could not fight for Lo-

No.

He did not let the word complete. The very thought was dangerous.

Throwing the classy cylinder he had been holding with a deathly grip, he poured the last bit of that glass bottle in him.

And walked over hurriedly, the tiny glass pieces stabbing him, to again begin the reset.

One which would never complete.

Next Day

Pooja

The ethereal moon spread out the beams of serenity all over the ceremonious night.

It was a lively affair. Merrymaking and cultural programs went on, as she stood amidst the cheery atmosphere with a sombre expression.

In front of Pooja, was the masterfully sculpted idol of the Mother Goddess, standing majestically as the centrepiece of the celebration. She was the epitome of power, the Mahisasura Mardini.

The recollections of an unforgettable past come as paper-planes drifting in a gentle air, carrying the playfulness, a child's happy smiles. A time when her mother would take Pooja to the mythological lands through her words, and they would get lost like flying butterflies in fairytale land.

The tunes of Bengali music float in the gentle air, and she hums along. The first song her mom had taught her, also for a Durga Puja function. Her mom was deeply rooted in all of them, the culture of Bengal kept alive by her. She was the reason why Pooja could become a part of a community she takes pride in.

Even now, so many years later, things don't change. They hold on to these roots like they are holding onto their life, not letting them disappear.

It feels like holding onto her, keeping her alive.

Recreating a small piece of her favourite Kolkata in Bhopal.

But the aura of calm hid like the clouds covering the sun's shine. The piercing pain of heartbreak came back, the wound untreated.

The soft sand of her life's hourglass prickles, solitary grains floating to join their siblings. The wish of them defying gravity and going back to bring the 10th year of her life had never been so strong as it was now.

The heavy jewellery tugged at her ears, letting her know their presence and the styled hair gave her a throbbing headache.

Her tiredness and exhaustion, now fuelling back in her veins refusing to let her bring back that sense of peace she experienced moments ago.

Around her people wore phoney smiles. All they cared about was unimportant Tommy rot. Not a single one of them stepped back from criticizing the others behind their backs.

It was a saga of inflated egos, of constant competition, to make the next person look inferior.

She was tired.

Of people running away, Of abandonment, Of hopes getting dashed.

Why did his thoughts keep coming back? After all, he did make it clear, didn't he?

But did he really succeed? Did his efforts head? Did his heart finally give in to his relentless demand?

Did he really forget her?

All the messages that lay not replied, unheard voicemails, she was sure he had.

But that colour of his he left on her?

The piece of his heart that was protected by her?

Would he be able to forget them?

An earthen lamp flickered in front of her, bud she did no rush to save it.

If it goes out, then let it.

Just like the never-ending load shedding of her life.

But it didn't.

It was a wish, a hope that kept it alive.

The sweet nothings he had whispered to her, the gentle kisses he lined on her forehead.

They had promised her forever.

His being enveloped her, she doubted if it would ever break.

The hope of him & her flickers every now and then, just like the earthen lamp.

But did it go off?

It couldn't.

Because there was no wind strong enough to extinguish it.

The possibility of him and her.

The realization and a blackness hit her at the same time.

And as she fell, her mind held on to only it.

The possibility of him and her.

Ethan

If the Great Thinkers from BCs before were asked if going to a beer garden after spending 2 months in another continent and a 13hr long flight was a sensible thing to do, they would have watched the questioner in bewilderment.

And he agreed. He was not being sensible, not even 1%.

The urge to see her, to gaze at her moonly face, to know that she okay.

It had never been so strong. He felt his mind would give up on him if he could not locate her today.

Not that he had stopped the forgetting process, absolutely not.

It was just a solace, a bandage to the scars he had given himself.

That she would be okay even if he was not there with her.

Focus fixed on keeping his gaze as unhurried as possible, he looked around, putting the well-trained ears and eyes to work.

And then he saw them.

All her friends clustered at a table, merrily clinking beer bottles and sharing happy glances. His eyes pierced into the scene, but he could not locate her.

A step or two brought him close, the desperateness making his heart go crazy.

But the conclusion shattered every bit of sense and calm, dissipated the hope of getting to see here.

She was not here.

His face fell like someone who had lost the thing they hold the closest to their heart.

She, really, was not here.

He really wanted to ask the residents sitting at the table in question, to get some, any, news on her.

But his rational mind still existed, and it was the only thing that stopped him from going haywire.

She was not here.

He took out the notorious cuboid chiming in his pocket, full of satirical typed phrases his cerebrum refused to decrypt.

But it was adamant to get his attention.

A scoff escaped like a habit.

As if anyone could be powerful enough to take his attention away from her.

He was caught in a maze of her memories, his time in the continent thousands of kilometres away and the ghoul of feelings chasing him deeper into it, making him yearn for her solace, the moistness of a forlorn kiss on his forehead, the gentle swipe of a thumb to take his tears away.

His way was lost in there, every turn making him end up more challenged. But even if he did not want to, he had to find the way out.

His soul was like a thorn who could only hurt the tender flower that she was.

What he did not realize was that she was a rose, her being was amidst thorns.

She had the power to beautify them.

The click of the turn-on sound, brought him back to the piece of work his fingers were creating on the light emanating screen.

And in seconds that passed too fast, he saw his heart's treasure,

She was here.

Not in footsteps & whispers.

She was here.

Not in touches and kisses.

She was here.

Not in muscle and bone.

But in labyrinths of his heart, in filmstrips of his memory, in sensations that made him go wild,

She was here.

(With him forever, she was not the one to leave his side)

PS: I HC the end of 1st year of their residency being in Sept-Oct, which is the time of Durga Puja in India. And since Poo is half Bengali, and she never misses any tradition involving her mom's side of the fam, so she would not have been at Boston then. (Or take it as an excuse to increase angst potential) Anyway, Thank you so much for reading and I hope you have a great day ahead! Love, Manamee🧡.

Tags (Please let me know if you want to be added or removed or if I forgot you I feel like my brain has short-circuited and I forgot someone):

Perma: @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @udishaman @aestheticartsx @twinkleallnight @schnitzelbutterfingers @sophxwithers @sweatyrysconnoisseur @nikki-2406 @choicesfanaf @trrfanaddict @starrystarrytrouble @gardeningourmet @parkbarks @mvalentine @lovablegranny @mercury84choices @helloayz

Open Heart (All fics and edit): @lucy-268 @maurine07 @bellcat2010

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@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

[sodone-withlife]

i know who i am

summary: really, he never saw himself ever willingly letting anyone in on his broken past, but here he was, sitting in across from Waipo in the tiny cramped office at the back of the shop and nervously sweating about what he was about to tell her

read it on ao3: chapter 1 is the original version with Mandarin, chapter 2 has everything translated into English

the movie really hit me hard as an ABC, and I really wanted to write something for it. even though she barely had any screentime, I loved Waipo—she reminds me of so many of my relatives—so I decided to make her be one of the most important people in Shangqi’s life, and it turned into this wonderful mess (i had to stop writing this for a bit because I literally made myself cry). there is mandarin in this, it's kind of intended to be a physical manifestation of how my bilingual brain works (i did put the English-only version first, the original version with Mandarin is under that one but the formatting for it one is better on ao3, so i suggest reading it from there). apologies for my shitty mandarin; I have mediocre language skills, but I'm still so excited to be able to incorporate it in my writing. in regards to the character's names: I only know for certain the Chinese characters used for Shangqi and Wenwu, but for Xialing, I'm going to go with what it apparently was in the hong kong release (夏灵, with 灵灵 as the nickname)

English Translation:

“Waipo, do you have a bit of time?” Shangqi stood in front of Katy’s grandma, fidgeting nervously as fluent Mandarin rolled off of his tongue with an ease he's never felt in any other part of his life. “I want to talk to you about something."

She pinned him with a knowing stare. “Does it have anything to do with the trip you and Katy went on this past week?" she asked, Not waiting for his answer, she got up from the shop register and beckoned him into the back office. Feeling oddly like the first time he came into the store years ago as a teen—when he first met Katy’s family who had since taken him under their wing—he followed her into the familiar, cramped space.

He wasn’t exactly sure what within him prompted this interaction. He had come to San Francisco for a normal life, to get as far away from his father’s reaches as he could and to outrun the blood that stained his footsteps.

Never did Shangqi imagine that he would end up claiming the ancient rings that now sat in a heavy-duty (thanks to Xialing, with whom he now keeps in regular contact because of the promise they made to each other before he left the compound because he already left her behind once, and he’s never doing it again damn, my baby sister is running the Ten Rings now, and she’s trying to turn it into something better) and a very well-disguised (thanks to the sorcerers in the New York Sanctum and holy shit he’s in contact with famous superheroes now) back in his mess of a studio apartment.

Never did he imagine letting anyone in on his broken past, and even though his hand had been forced when it came to telling Katy, here he was going to the second person who truly saw something in him when he first started his new life and planning to tell them everything.

(Okay, fine, Shangqi wasn’t actually planning on letting anyone else in on it after telling Waipo, not even the rest of Katy’s family, but he really didn’t want them to be so involved yet—he still had no idea what he himself was doing and he wants to preserve what normalcy he can.)

(Also, he’s been reliably informed that anyone close to a public figure is bound to be targeted for attacks—which he figured out when the mercenaries attacked on the bus because yes, Lingling, he does have brain cells thank you very much.)

“Little Dragon, what’s on your mind?”

Little Dragon.

He started at the nickname, the one originally given to him by his mother. Somehow, it had completely slipped his mind that Waipo also called him that, starting a few weeks after he first met the Chen family. He barely kept it together, the long-unused nickname dredging up memories he had thought left him forever.

You have the heart of a dragon, she had declared firmly when he asked her why she decided on that particular nickname.

(That was exactly what his mother had told him right before she died, and yet he stood by, hidden behind a door, and did nothing while the men beat and killed her, the heart of the family.)

(He would carry the guilt with him for a lifetime.)

It was a while before he could bring himself to visit the family again—there were a lot of awkward excuses before Katy reluctantly backed off—and it took even longer for him to get somewhat used to the name again, but he eventually started seeing it as a gift with each faint impression of happier days that he got every time Waipo called him that.

Old, weathered hands gently covered his own, which were shaking and clammy with nervousness. Shangqi wondered how Waipo would react to the darker side of the lost boy she had basically adopted all those years ago, wondered if the legends of Ta-Lo and the Great Protector were known outside of the rather insular communities that continued to tell the stories, wondered if she had heard about his father through the stories that were passed down for thousands of years, from generation to generation…

(It can’t be wrong to miss him, can it? Even with the years of hell Wenwu had put him through, he was still his father. Shangqi still faintly remembered the man his father had been when his mother was still alive, the happy times they shared as a normal family…)

(But those times were long gone, ripped from their grasp by the past Wenwu wanted so badly to leave behind. Grief had shattered the whole family, and it ultimately led to the children fighting the father who had been driven to near madness in his denial, in his quest to put his broken family back together again.)

Mom, I miss you so much.

(And now Wenwu is dead, just like his beloved wife.)

(But just as she died to protect her children, he did the same. Now, his children are reunited and in contact again, getting ever closer despite living as far apart as they did, and he was reunited with his love in the afterlife.)

Finally, he straightened his posture and took a deep breath, looking directly at Waipo, who he’d come to view as the grandmother he never had.

“Waipo, have you heard of the legend of the Ten Rings?”

And Shangqi told her everything.

He told her everything and more,

She listened.

She listened as he described the legends behind the Ten Rings, Ta-Lo, and the Great Protector; his father’s history; his own history, from witnessing his mother’s death to ripping open the throat of the man who killed her when he was barely a teen, from leaving Lingling behind to seeing her again in the fight club she built from the ground up, from returning to the compound after a decade away in San Francisco to the battle in Ta-Lo…

Finally, he fell silent and stared at his hands but it wasn’t long before Waipo moved, slowly standing up with one hand on her cane. He made to help stabilize her but was quickly waved off with a stern look. He sank back into the chair and felt her move behind him. The shaky weight of her hands on his shoulders as she gently pressed down and straightened his posture was familiar, even after years of not having his posture deliberately—so gently—fixed like that every time he saw Waipo.

“You are the legacy of all who came before you, but you are your own person.” she finally said gently, and the tension in his shoulders slowly loosened under her familiar touch. “You decide your own fate.”

~~~

That night, Shangqi knelt before the altar he had in his apartment, the only part that was carefully maintained in all the years he had lived there. But now, two smiling faces stared back at him, a joy reflected in their eyes that he knew would disappear in less than ten years after the photo was taken.

Am I still your pride and joy? Lingling grew up, but I didn’t even take care of her like I should have.

I swear to you, I will never abandon her again

Even as his life got even more unbelievable as the years went by, the altar and his copy of his parent’s wedding photo would remain a constant. He and Lingling dove deeper into their family history—of the Ten Rings, of Ta-Lo, of both the good and bad—and both worked to carry on their parents’ legacy.

(With all of the proper discretion agreements and threats when needed, of course.)

Lingling is dating my best friend now, and they’re so happy together. Mom, I know you would have loved Katy. Dad, I know you didn’t like her much, but she really is a wonderful person.

Life went on.

There were the good days, when he went out with others and could almost feel normal, and there were the bad days, when phantoms pains plagued him and he woke up from a restless sleep expecting to see bruises mottling his body like they did so often when he was younger.

(Also, he was considered a superhero now and holy shit that’s still insane, even years after he first got in contact with the Avengers and the sorcerers in New York. Now he was going all over the West Coast, to help the locals take care of whichever crazy supervillain decided to wreak havoc that day.)

Dad, I hope you find this story as funny as I did: I helped a group of American superheroes yesterday. They’ve never been to San Francisco before and were extremely unfamiliar with the roads, especially Lombard Street. They spent half an hour trying to drive down the street, but I ended up driving them down myself.

(San Francisco was still home, and he had found a life there with all his friends and Xialing whenever she visited. He had a job now, too, at the local youth center teaching martial arts and self-defense, teaching and guiding the youth in a way he wishes his father had with him.)

People came into his life; some stayed, some left, and some even got together.

Mom, Dad, Lingling and Katy are getting married today and everyone is so excited for them. I’m taking over the Ten Ring within a month so Lingling can take a break. She’s led the organization for so long, it’s my responsibility now. I hope I can live up to her standards, she’s done really well. She’ll be back in a few years, but even after, I’m going to be much more involved to lessen Lingling’s workload.

Shangqi walked the path knowing who came before him and who was still with him.

Most importantly, he walked the path knowing who he was—demons, flaws, strengths, and all.

Mom, Dad, don’t worry. I’ll take care of them.

I hope you’re happy together in the afterlife.

~~~

Don’t be afraid, Shang-Chi, for you have heart of a dragon and the power of the Ten Rings.

We will always be with you and Xialing.

Original Version w/Mandarin

“外婆，您有没有一点儿时间？” 尚气 stood in front of Katy’s grandma, fidgeting nervously. “我想告诉您一些事情。”

She pinned him with a knowing stare. “是不是跟你和瑞雯这前个星期去的旅行有关？” Not waiting for his answer, she got up from the shop register and beckoned him into the back office. Feeling oddly like the first time he came into the store years ago as a teen—when he first met Katy’s family who had since taken him under their wing—he followed her into the familiar, cramped space.

He wasn’t exactly sure what within him prompted this interaction. He had come to San Francisco for a normal life, to get as far away from his father’s reaches as he could and to outrun the blood that stained his footsteps.

Never did 尚气 imagine that he would end up claiming the ancient rings that now sat in a heavy-duty (thanks to 夏灵, with whom he now keeps in regular contact because of the promise they made to each other before he left the compound because he already left her behind once, and he’s never doing it again and damn, my baby sister is running the Ten Rings now, and she’s trying to turn it into something better) and a very well-disguised (thanks to the sorcerers in the New York Sanctum and holy shit he’s in contact with famous superheroes now) back in his mess of a studio apartment.

Never did he imagine letting anyone in on his broken past, and even though his hand had been forced when it came to telling Katy, here he was going to the second person who truly saw something in him when he first started his new life and planning to tell them everything.

(Okay, fine, 尚气 wasn’t actually planning on letting anyone else in on it after telling 外婆, not even the rest of Katy’s family, but he really didn’t want them to be so involved yet—he still had no idea what he himself was doing and he wants to preserve what normalcy he can.)

(Also, he’s been reliably informed that anyone close to a public figure is bound to be targeted for attacks—which he figured out when the mercenaries attacked on the bus because yes, 灵灵, he does have brain cells thank you very much.)

“小龙，你有什么心事儿？”

Little Dragon.

He started at the nickname, the one originally given to him by his mother. Somehow, it had completely slipped his mind that 外婆 also called him that, starting a few weeks after he first met the Chen family. He barely kept it together, the long-unused nickname dredging up memories he had thought left him forever.

你有神龙之心 ，she had declared firmly when he asked her why she decided on that particular nickname. You have the heart of a dragon.

(That was exactly what his mother had told him right before she died, and yet he stood by, hidden behind a door, and did nothing while the men beat and killed her, the heart of the family.)

(He would carry the guilt with him for a lifetime.)

It was a while before he could bring himself to visit the family again—there were a lot of awkward excuses before Katy reluctantly backed off—and it took even longer for him to get somewhat used to the name again, but he eventually started seeing it as a gift with each faint impression of happier days that he got every time 外婆 called him that.

Old, weathered hands gently covered his own, which were shaking and clammy with nervousness. 尚气 wondered how 外婆 would react to the darker side of the lost boy she had basically adopted all those years ago, wondered if the legends of Ta-Lo and the Great Protector were known outside of the rather insular communities that continued to tell the stories, wondered if she had heard about his father through the stories that were passed down for thousands of years, from generation to generation…

(It can’t be wrong to miss him, can it? Even with the years of hell 文武 had put him through, he was still his father. 尚气 still faintly remembered the man his father had been when his mother was still alive, the happy times they shared as a normal family…)

(But those times were long gone, ripped from their grasp by the past 文武 wanted so badly to leave behind. Grief had shattered whole family, and it ultimately led to the children fighting the father who had been driven to near madness in his denial, in his quest to put his broken family back together again.)

妈妈，我太想你了。

(And now 文武 is dead, just like his beloved wife.)

(But just as she died to protect her children, he did the same. Now, his children are reunited and in contact again, getting ever closer despite living as far apart as they did, and he was reunited with his love in the afterlife.)

Finally, he straightened his posture and took a deep breath, looking directly at 外婆, who he’d come to view as the grandmother he never had.

“外婆，您听说过 ‘十环’ 的传说吗？”

And 尚气 told her everything.

He told her everything and more,

She listened.

She listened as he described the legends behind the Ten Rings, Ta-Lo, and the Great Protector; his father’s history; his own history, from witnessing his mother’s death to ripping open the throat of the man who killed her when he was barely a teen, from leaving 灵灵 behind to seeing her again in the fight club she built from the ground up, from returning to the compound after a decade away in San Francisco to the battle in Ta-Lo…

Finally, he fell silent and stared at his hands but it wasn’t long before 外婆 moved, slowly standing up with one hand on her cane. He made to help stabilize her but was quickly waved off with a stern look. He sank back into the chair and felt her move behind him. The shaky weight of her hands on his shoulders as she gently pressed down and straightened his posture was familiar, even after years of not having his posture deliberately—so gently—fixed like that every time he saw 外婆.

“你是所有在你之前的人的遗产，但你是你自己的人，” she finally said，“你决定你自己的命运。”

You are the legacy of all who came before you, but you are your own person. You decide your own fate.

~~~

That night, 尚气 knelt before the altar he had in his apartment, the only part that was carefully maintained in all the years he had lived there. But now, two smiling faces stared back at him, a joy reflected in their eyes that he knew would disappear in less than ten years after the photo was taken.

我还是你的骄傲吗？灵灵长大了，但我也没好好��顾她。

我向你发誓，我再也不会抛���她。

Even as his life got even more unbelievable as the years went by, the altar and his copy of his parent’s wedding photo would remain a constant. He and 灵灵 dove deeper into their family history—of the Ten Rings, of Ta-Lo, of both the good and bad—and both worked to carry on their family’s legacy.

(With all of the proper discretion agreements and threats when needed, of course.)

灵灵跟我朋友最近开始谈恋爱，他���俩可开心了。妈，如果你还在我们身边，我保证你会喜欢她。爸，我知道你一开始不太喜欢她，但她确实是一位精彩的人。

Life went on.

There were the good days, when he went out with others and could almost feel normal, and there were the bad days, when phantoms pains plagued him and he woke up from a restless sleep expecting to see bruises mottling his body like they did so often when he was younger.

(Also, he was considered a superhero now and holy shit that’s still insane, even years after he first got in contact with the Avengers and the sorcerers in New York. Now he was going all over the West Coast, to help the locals take care of whichever crazy supervillain decided to wreak havoc that day.)

爸爸，我希望你跟我一样觉得这个故事很好笑：我昨天帮了一组美国超级英雄开车。那是他们第一次来旧京山，对道路非常陌生—尤其是 Lombard Street。他们开也开不好，花了半个小时慢慢的开下去。最终，我把他们的车开下去的。

(San Francisco was still home, and he had found a life there with all his friends and 夏灵 whenever she visited. He had a job now, too, at the local youth center teaching martial arts and self-defense, teaching and guiding the youth in a way he wishes his father had with him.)

People came into his life; some stayed, some left, and some even got together.

妈，爸，灵灵她今天会跟我最好的朋友结婚，我们都很兴奋。我一个月之内开始接管十环的业务，让灵灵休息休息。她干了多少年了，现在是我的责任。我希望我能辜负她，她管的非常棒，帮了许多人。她几年后会回来继续当领导，但我好像在领导方面发挥更大的作用。

He walked the path knowing who came before him and who was still with him.

Most importantly, he walked the path knowing who he was—demons, flaws, strengths, and all.

妈，爸，你们放心吧，我会照顾他们。

我希望你们俩来世都幸福。

~~~

尚气，你别怕，你有神龙之心，十环的力量。

我们永远会在你和灵灵的身边。

[dutchforstrangers]

Digiweek 2021 - Day 4 Dark/Light | Shades of red; a Taikoura fanfiction

Chapter 4/7. Amory

Chapters [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

Characters: Taichi Yagami & Hikari Yagami (background Koushiro Izumi & Sora Takenouchi) Genre: Hurt/comfort, family Rating: T Wordcount: 2.179

!Trigger Warning!: Depression, angsty feelings

Art by Sanni @seventeenlovesthree

The untouched phone on his bedside table had been there for days, only using it to call in sick to work. He had been in this state before, when he was only seventeen. Back then he was more resilient, better able to hide it all away. Now, more than ten years later, it was tough to put on that mask again, even though the reason was a much more different one.

Everything tasted the same, everything smelled the same. All the clothes he owned felt heavy and itchy around his skin. Actually, everything felt heavy around him. His stomach dropped to the bottom, his legs feeling as if filled with a thousand stones making every step heavier and tougher to make. Not to mention his heart felt at pain due to all the doubt and confusion that was consuming him.

The bright lights that lit up the sky outside the window pane of his childhood bedroom were nothing more than unwanted distraction to him. The noise that came from the lights got mixed up with the constant beeping of his phone. He knew what those beeping sounds meant, but he didn’t care. Just like he didn’t care about the colors anymore, they no longer had meaning. Through his eyes they all looked the same, plain and dark grey with no specific color and no specific shades. No blues, no greens, no yellow, pink, purple, orange or red.

Red…

Taichi sure had been a mess before, but this plight felt as if someone had extinguished a harmless fire. His fire. Taking away all his precious reds.

A soft knock on his door made him wake up from his ever heavier growing thoughts. Even though the knock wasn’t as loud as the fireworks nor his phone beeping, he could still hear it. It usually meant food was brought to him, but knowing it was past 12am he expected something different. He expected the same thing as those beeping noises wanted to tell him. So he buried his face deeper into the pillow, telling the one behind the door to come in anyway, his voice muffled by the pillow.

“Happy new year,” he heard Hikari softly say as she took place on the edge of his bed. He lifted his head slightly so she was able to hear him without his voice being muffled against the pillow again.

“Did you close the door?” Taichi asked her, not wanting their parents to interfere too. He had celebrated Christmas at their place and was supposed to go home afterwards. Instead he had found himself staying after he felt himself slipping into a deep dark hole, not able to take care of himself anymore. Somewhere deep inside he felt grateful for their care, he knew that, it was just hard to show it.

He looked up when no verbal answer came only to see Hikari nod in the confirmative, his bedroom door behind her indeed closed.

“They are worried you know…”

He knew that, but he didn’t care. And as much as he wanted to care, he simply couldn’t. He didn’t know how to anymore. Just like he didn’t know a lot more. It reminded him that literally everything looked and felt grey.

“I’m worried too…” Hikari continued. Taichi turned his head towards Hikari, his eyes now looking at his younger sister. If there was one person in the world who could drag him out of darkness and depth, it was this girl sitting on his bed. He knew she was worried, he could feel it and it did have an effect on him. But just like everything else he didn’t feel able to properly act on it. So he stayed quiet, replying with a swallow as he let his head hang down, gently nodding to let her know he knew she was worried.

They stayed quiet for a little while. Taichi just stared into the unknown while Hikari played with her fingers. “Do you have any new year’s resolutions?” She eventually broke the silence. He had no answer to that.

“Taichi please, talk to me…”

He had no answer to that either.

“Taichi…” She tried again which he answered with another silence. “Taichi!”

Unable to ignore his sister, growing agitated he replied “Just go, I—”

“No.” She interrupted. “I’m staying and we’re going to talk. Like it or not.” Her voice was louder than usual, determined and worried. This affected Taichi and he couldn’t ignore her anymore. He sat up as straight as he could on his bed against the wall, taking the pillow with him to tightly hug it against his from the heaviness aching stomach.

“Listen, I don’t know what’s happening underneath that big brown mess of yours, but the last time you were like this I had to yell at you too. To wake you up… And I’m doing it again if I have to.”

“I already received that note,” he said, tiredness seeping through his words. “Go ahead, scream. I can take it.”

“I rather talk to you instead of yelling, so let’s start with that.”

Taichi sighed, biting his lip, hugging the pillow a little tighter as he decided to talk, no matter how heavy it felt. She deserved to know at least something. “I have this strange feeling in my stomach upon seeing or thinking about a… er, certain someone…? My head gets dizzy, I can’t think straight, I feel both nauseous and happy at the same time… Hikari, I’m confused…”

As he looked at her he saw her smiling, letting out a giggle and shaking her head a bit. He didn’t understand what was so funny, but before he could ask her, she already spoke.

“Sounds like you’re in love.”

He was. “It’s complicated…” He hesitated.

“Hm-mh, I bet.”

“No like, really complicated.”

“Then tell me what you mean exactly with ‘really complicated’.”

This was it. The one thing he was trying to avoid. The one thing that had him slip down. And now his sister had asked him to give it a name. Them a name. The darkness surrounding him was slowly fading at the moment Hikari stepped into the room and forced him to talk. His thoughts were getting a bit more clear and he felt a spark of courage glowing inside of him, ready to open up. Even if it was just a little bit.

“Er… There’s this… boy…” Taichi said, almost in a whispering tone. He could feel his face lit up a little by the thought of him alone. A small blush. He remembered the color pink.

“So you are—”

“… and a girl.” He quickly added, not wanting Hikari to think he was gay. Was he? Maybe…? His face lit up a little more, seeing the face of the girl before his eyes. He couldn’t be gay when he felt the exact same towards the girl as he felt towards the boy. Was he bi? Could be… Taichi felt more like he could fall in love with anyone, as long as he felt attracted to him or her. Or they. Them.

His mind started racing. Trying to focus he checked Hikari for her reaction. She was thinking, processing everything he had told her moments before. Taichi felt anxiety kicking in, afraid she would think he was weird. That he needed help. Maybe he did need help…

“As in you’re in love with a boy and a girl? At the same time?” She eventually asked him, sounding more curious than judging.

“I guess…” He answered, looking confused at her, trying to figure out what she was thinking. But he wasn’t able to read her. “I told you it’s complicated. No one is able to safe me from this. Neither are you.” He panicked.

“Safe you from this? From what? Who said you need to be saved?”

“Hikari,” he said, desperate feelings kicking in, “how can one be in love with two persons?! I do have to make a choice, for myself. But it’s so incredibly hard, I can’t just make a choice. Hell, I don’t want to make a choice. But I can’t have both.” His eyes widened, his heartrate quickly speeding up. Anxiety took over, afraid he would lose everything. Lose them. Hikari seemed confused herself, but Taichi rambled on anyway. “I don’t want to ruin the bond I have with them and dating will only make it worse. Besides, what if the other, or worse both of them, can’t answer my feelings—”

“But why would you make a choice?”

From one moment to another his heart dropped, skipping a beat. He had to make a choice, right? Hikari looked at him, stern eyes filled with hints of concern. Taichi wasn’t sure if she just wanted to be polite by taking his side or that she wanted to make an actual point. But for some reason that one question made him feel lighter. She always made him feel lighter. Lighter from both the heaviness and the darkness.

“I said why would you make a choice when you can have both?” She repeated herself, now a bit more urgent.

“Is that a thing?” Boy, did he wanted that to be a thing.

She shrugged, a small smile marking her facial expression, showing him the sweetness he had been missing the past few days. “Apparently there’s this thing called polyamory…” She had said it with an open ending, probably to make him curious. However, it only made him confused more. Something Hikari must have seen, so she continued, the teacher inside of her taking over.

“Polyamory is not so much of a sexual identity, but you could see it as a way of life. It means that you can have more than one relationships at the same time. It’s a beautiful concept and if you’d ask me, I think it fits you. Taichi, you have so much love to give and it wouldn’t be fair to yourself or anyone if you’d shield yourself from any kind of love. Especially a love you want or need.”

Why was she always like this? His mind went blank. He heard everything she said, but couldn’t respond. She definitely made his dark lighter and lighter, bringing back the taste, smell and colors bit by bit. Still that elusive feeling of unknowingness lingered on in a way it felt like it would never leave him alone.

“I think you should confess. It will lighten things up, for you and for them.” She stated when another silence took her too long.

“But how?”

“Well, that’s something you have to figure out yourself. And I’m sure you’re able to do it on your own.” She said standing up from the bed. As she turned around her soothing eyes met his tired ones, tears stung behind his.

“I don’t know…” He sounded vulnerable feeling so incredibly unknowing. But Hikari smiled anyway.

“See it as your new year’s resolutions.” She raised one finger. “Research polyamory,” she raised another, “confess to the ones you love,” and eventually a third, “and become more open about your feelings in general.”

Taichi stared at those three fingers she was holding up in the air. It sounded and looked so easy, but he knew it wouldn’t be as near as easy as she made it sound like. “That’s easier said than done.” He sighed for the umpteenth time that day.

“I know. But you can do it, you’ll figure it out. Just… give yourself some time.”

With those words one single tear rolled down his face. Time was such a relative thing. The last few days he had seen the clock ticking, but it meant nothing to him. The days had been feeling long yet short. Mostly heavy and dark and tiring and useless. But time could also be seen as a solution to his unknowingness. A solution he couldn’t see himself due to all the darkness. Luckily for Taichi he had his sister to bring him the light he needed.

The sound of the fireworks outside died down, a few small explosions could be heard vaguely in the distance. He nodded to Hikari, showing her his gratitude before she walked over to the door of his bedroom.

“Hey Taichi…?” While turning the knob of the door she turned around, her voice filled with carefulness and softness yet sounding curious and a tad bold.  

“Yeah?”

“It’s about Sora-san and Koushiro-san, isn’t it?”

Taichi’s jaw dropped, not expecting her to know that.

“I’ve seen the way you look at them and they truly brighten you up in return.” She continued. Knowing things he was unknowing of. Understanding things he barely understood. And though it was still present, she was able to take away some of the heaviness in his legs, stomach, head and heart. Bringing back the colors and the red he loved so much. All thanks to the light Hikari shined.

He was unknowing. But what Taichi did know was that he could rely on her. Her presence always the reliable light that would guide him through his darkness and back to reality.

[whereflowersbloom]

Meet me at the horizon

Damian has spent nearly three hours inside the meeting room of one of the biggest companies of the Eastern Coast, Wayne Enterprises, the silence was strong after several hours discussing the approval of new projects, majority of them Proposed by Timothy Drake. Tim was a genius in Computer Engineering and Technologies, currently working with Lucious Fox. He just graduated and was already making money developing enterprise digital assistance apps and what not for the company. Unfortunately the silence lasted less than two deep breaths as the board directors, shareholders, his siblings and even his own father were exchanging goodbyes and handshakes, scheduling the next meeting already. His father had promised to take Helena shopping with Selina. His adoptive siblings stayed in the meeting room, deciding to have a much-deserved break, to catch up with their daily activities.

Damian frowned unconsciously, his head was throbbing with the surge of scenes in his head. The scenes he was so used to see in his dreams for the last nine months, but the last three months have been assaulting him any moment of the day, especially close to his eldest brother Richard. The meeting seemed to have opened a door to these dreams and this talk about opening an office in Jump city was making it worse. Jump City. He had the vague sensation he’d been there before...

Tim, Richard and Duke seemed to be too busy speaking about the next big game of Gotham Knights, the hockey team, to notice his troubled expression. They mumbled something about asking Jason to slow down from his intense sportbike racer life and watch the game all together. Damian didn’t bother listening to the rest, he was attacked by images of that younger version of himself in some kind of flashy vigilante costume fighting criminals.

“We should go to the game this weekend. The girl I’m seeing now, Kori said she was interested in learning about traditional sports. She’s been in Gotham for six months now. She’s very enthusiastic about cultural learning.” Richard suggested with a wide smile to his siblings completely excited. Eyes like wildfire lit with the spark of life. He hadn’t met Dick’s girlfriend but he looked happier than he’s ever seen him in years.

“Are you joining, D or you’ve got a date?” Duke asked with a teasing tone in his sardonic voice.

Damian did not retribute the smile his adoptive brother gave him, trying to mask his still throbbing head. He looked at him, threatening gaze was a subtle warning. He didn’t know why this was happening that day, but the talk about Jump City and Dick’s new girlfriend were just bringing more of those images. Most of them weren’t good ones. Gory, brutal, bloody. He liked more the ones that seemed to joyful. The ones with that girl.

“He barely seem to have time to meet someone. He’s a workaholic.” it was Tim who answered with an amused smile on his lips, masking an exhausted mien.

“At this pace he’s close enough to become a celibate monk.” Duke joked elbowing Tim lightly, who laughed in response.

“I tried to set him up with some girls, but I almost end up with a broken jaw.” Dick shrugged slightly as he told them with details how Damian had turned down Kara Danvers, Tim’s girlfriend’s best friend. Admittedly she was a nice-looking woman but not the one he desired.

Damian decided to ignore the moronic comments about his love life from his siblings.

Storming out of the meeting room without uttering a single word. They knew nothing about his romantic life. Tsk. A breath of fresh is what he required, lost in consuming thoughts about the girl.

People form the company knew him as the extremely professional boss that run his department with an almost iron fist, he was fair though, accepting the situation of people that worked under him, but he didn’t accept people trying to take advantages or lacking in his services. And he was indeed workaholic.

The media knew him as the ‘Ice Prince of Gotham’, the young heir that was always looking serious, with a cold aura around him, with no type of relationships or scandals so far. He didn’t have the bad boy aura like Jason, ‘chicks’ seemed to dig it as Duke would crudely express. He appeared distant of people out of his inner circle. However, women followed him like bees to flowers in order to collect nectar.

It was just his Wayne charm he couldn’t turn off, regardless of the situation. Like his father, Damian just attracted female attention like a magnet. But no girlfriend. He's had the odd fling here and there but nobody has ever really caught his eye and he's incredibly busy he hasn't the time to feel that maybe he's missing out. Until he saw her.

All his time, attention and passion have been poured into his work. Not that he loved it exactly but he's never been one to do things by halves. Of course he made time to spend quality time with his family, after all, little Helena was barely ten years old. Perky and tireless, too smart for her age if he added. EHis youngest sister.

He was also known in the sports world as one of the most skilled people on the art of the traditional sword fighting and martial arts. He didn’t know where this passion for sword fighting began, although he would bet all his money that it had something to do with his strange recurrent dreams.

 Although his life was satisfactory in his personal view, he always felt as if something was missing. He felt as lonely as the teenager in his dreams when the girl was not around him. She was missing.

Why this bothered him so much, he couldn’t find a logical reason that made any sense. It was just a simple dream, and that girl wasn’t much more than that. A dream. But why he felt that way? That need to look around every time he was in a place full of people hoping to get a glimpse of those shinning amethyst eyes looking at him like she did in his dreams with such profound emotion. Or his necessity to look for her around the world as if he was sure he could find her. She was etched in his bones, buried in down his bronze skin, burning in his chest leaving him out of breath. The images were flooding his mind again. More than absurd dreams, they were a recollection of memories...from a different lifetime perhaps.

They had something briefly, he gathered from the persistent dreams. It was intense, passionate. It was only something he could describe as love. But suddenly they parted ways, forced to be away from the other. They lost contact. The images were so vivid. They felt so real. A first last kiss filled with sorrow, powerlessness, genuine affection. It was carved into his mind until he memorized it. That moment. The warmth and scent of her breath put him in an hypnotic daze. Her lips parted softly, and he could taste faint traces salt from her tears when her soft lips pressed against his. He could feel lightning coursing through his veins, as if his entire world had been set ablaze only lasting seconds. Then it was gone. The ghost of a promise of a second chance. He’d grown tired of waiting for her to appear before his eyes. Every damn second felt like an eternity in itself. With every passing moment, his patience waned a little more and his heart sank a little further.

The haunting pain, endless longing, fear of losing her, the regret of leaving her behind first. They were all real. It was a silent torture.

At first, foolishly he believed these feelings would eventually fade and he would no longer be haunted by her phantom presence. Only memories he thought as he closed his emerald eyes. And her pale, heart-shaped, beautiful face flitted across his mind. Damian had spent his entire life being in control. But every time he met her in his dreams, he seemed to lose his grasp on his emotions, his life, and sometimes, even his destiny. He had to find her.

The wind howling through halls of old memories, piercing through solitude, skin and bone until there’s nothing but heavy emotions and melancholy. Walking with a heart that’s taken too many hits, never too fragile but refusing to be held in the hands of another’s that don’t belong to hers. In his chest remained an ache, a longing for what was or could have been. What he let slip.

“I am sorry we did not have time, Raven.” He mumbled almost in a whisper to nothingness. It felt like a heartfelt apology a thousand years too late. Maybe more or less. A lifetime too late. If their hearts and destiny were entwined surely they would find their back to each other no matter what. Damian carried that hope in his heart, always his constant companion. If He were to walk to the ends of the earth and waited for her on the horizon after the sun has set, would she be there? At the point where the land and sky meets. Could they be together once again?

Raven. The girl. He thought of her during the long hours between dusk and dawn, as he ate dinner alone or read next to the window. She was an ever present fixture in his mind and never more so than today. He considered what he might say to her once he found her, but what rational excuse could he offer to a stranger? He doubted she would find comfort in the ridiculous phrases he might string together about meeting in a past lifetime or those dreams. What if she had them too? If it wasn’t some breathtakingly realistic illusion and she was so where in this city or Jump City or anywhere else looking for him. It was silly to entertain such notions, he knew it well. But that didn’t stop his mind from wandering from time to time when he found a poignant passage of poetry that tugged at his heart, or a new book that fascinated him. She loved books how he knew that, he was not sure. What he wouldn’t give to have long days spent indulging their mutual passion for literature, poetry, history and ancient languages.

He’s been walking around for longer than he imagined, looking at his watch it’s last 6:00 pm. It was out of instinct or some magnetic pull forcing his body to look at the flower shop, whatever universal spirit or energy did it. He was thankful. The shop was tiny, a sliver of space between a cafe and bookstore, and would have disappeared into the surrounding stone and woodwork had it not been for the white and lavender exterior. Eyes quickly scanning surroundings. It was exquisite and untamed, thorny blackberry brambles mingle with fresh citrusy kumquats wrapped languidly around overhanging light fixtures for a wild, yet utterly magnificent and unique look. It had a three-panel glass window boasting an avant-garde display of blush dahlias, blizzard hydrangeas, soft purple lilacs, a mixture of green stems and leaves that balanced everything out. He had been here before but never spotted the shop. The shop was definitely new and if Damian hadn’t known this neighborhood so well, the faint smell of fresh paint would have given it away.

Her hair was a deep navy blue sprinkled with white, like starlight in winter. Her heart-shaped had matured beautifully, moonlight skin. She was a flashing star born with striking surreal violet orbs. She was holding astilbe flowers in white and soft pink. She set the flowers on the counter carefully, her fingers hovering in the space around them, like she wanted to guard them, to protect every petal from the possibility of being crushed. As if they were more than blooms of colour, like there were uniquely cherishable aspects to each one that is not present in the next. He could see that type of caring in her. This was his Raven. This can’t be real, Right? The world wouldn’t be this cruel to him, playing mind tricks on him. She was here. O

Damian thought of every slow-motion, heart-stopping, head-spinning scene in every romance movie or show or novel and how he’d always assumed they were stupid, nothing but rubbish. But here he was standing astonished literally staring at the woman of his dreams. Speak with her. Just hear her low and calming voice. That was all his mind would permit him to focus on, the single-minded determination to see her again.

He moved with driving purpose, his legs propelling him to go inside the little store and tell her everything about his dreams, recollection of old memories. The thought crossed his mind so briefly he scarcely dwelt on it, but that was how it had been for him in the months since dreaming of Raven. His pace slowed as he was stopped by the entrance door, opening it slowly, willing his heart to steady the gallop rhythm of its beats. The sun was shining brightly through the shop’s windows, soft classical music played through the serene and scented atmosphere.

The anticipation rushing through his veins felt like burning his tongue on Earl Grey too hot-tea a chilly rainy day, a dry mouth after sleepless night tossing and turning because other side of his bed looked too empty, trees in the park swayed and shuddered by the afternoon air before lighting fractures the sky and shakes earth, like he’s been waiting a million of breaths for this moment. In his twenty-one years of existence never experienced this wild and frantic emotion.

He swallowed around a very dry throat when he let the door swing shut behind him as his short, hesitant strides brought him directly up to the counter. Now they were face to face. Mustering the courage to say anything. Anything that dint make her think he was insane. But when his gaze met hers. Damian found himself awe-struck by the intensity behind familiar amethyst eyes. The stars couldn’t compare. The world and moon would crumble away. The sun would collapse into itself at this dazzling and glorious constellation that she was. Lilac pools hiding something mystic and ancient in their depth.

She leaned in closer to him in such a natural way, raising her head just to meet his. Her smile was sincere and expectant, pupils blown wide, but they’re focused, dark and determined, nearly drowning out the violet glint of her irises. His lips ached to reach for hers in a hungry kiss but refrained. Speechless, heart pounding in chest, peculiar fluttering sensation in his stomach, waiting for her to speak. Finally she took a deep and long breath before whispering. “Hello Damian. It’s been quite a long time.”

I rewrote this and hope you all like it. I can’t find it in me to update stories right now but have this short prompt. Specially written for @chromium7sky @ravenfan1242 @xaphrin @alerialblu @niahti and all my friends and readers. I’m so sorry some of you have been getting hate but we stand strong and together. 💜❤️❤️🥺🥺

@deep-in-mind67 @kallura-juniblade @bourniebna @timid-soot-sprite @deepbreadlover @tweepunkgrl @srose-foxfire

[fleet-admiral-hiba]

Yandere!Benn x male s/o

~mention of previous abuse;hurt/comfort~

This is linked to Yandere!Shank x reader and it will mention some events happened in the latter

Why, why your sister, the one that had always your back snapped at you like that? Was she jealous ? Did you do something that annoyed her? You were musing on the incident , remembering the names she had called you. A tear, followed another down your now red cheeks. You tried to be strong, to not be a burden to everybody anymore. But the thoughts that plagued your mind decided it was time to resurface. She mentioned " Dad", the one that made you what you are now. Memories of a dark, lonely room. You in chain, the beatings you received, better called by your so called dad " correctional". The screams, those primitive scream that destroyed your throat. Pain. All you remembered was pain. The sadness came after, in those moments you were all alone, bleeding, pleading your father to let you out, swearing that you had learned your lesson, that from then on you would be a good boy. Then no more. Your memomies became confused. You couldn't think but you thought too much at the same time. You were spacing yet you were aware of your surrounding. You were spiraling, you knew that much. You tried finding something useful to ground you. You grabbed the first thing you saw, and that happened to be Benn's cloak. You took it in your hands and tried some exercises that usually helped you whenever you had this episodes. But that wasn't enough. You were too far down the rabbit hole to come out alone. You were alone.

Outside, Benn was looking for you. He knew that everytime you needed to think you followed a routine. First you went to grab a glass of water. Then you could either go in the crow's nest or stood in a remote part of the ship, were the silence helped you calm down. So he did that. In the kitchen he asked yasopp if he had seen you, but when he said no, distress started to settle in. He was a calm and collected man. He recalled what happened some minutes before and tried to think about possible triggers that could make you spiral. There, the word Dad resonated among the others. He looked then at the clock. Shit, it was already ten and so minutes. That was bad. He sprinted out of the kitchen and went into your shared bedroom. There he found you huddled in a corner, cloak in hand, shaking and hyperventilating. You didn't noticed him and that was enough of an alarm signal. He approached calmly, so to not startle you, and tried calling your name a few times.

-Y/n..y/n...it's me okay, you're safe. Can I touch you? -

He was always so careful whenever you were in this state. He tried once to approach and you reacted so badly that, for once he felt guilty. When you didn't show signs of understanding nor refusing, he slowly took your hand in his, and rubbed small circle. Normally this would help you a bit knowing that he was there and you were safe, he had you. A lithany of sweet nothing spilled from his lips, telling you that you were okay, you were safe, you were there, on the Red Force, that everyone was okay too.

After 15 more minutes you started to breathe more or less regularly, taking in some shaky breath then and there. He had moved from his previous position to embrace you in a loose hug, as to not cage you, with your head in his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

A rhythmic melody, one that always shooed away your nightmares and your worries. One that was steady as the ocean you were sailing. One that told a story.

It had been almost an hour and a half before you spoke. Just one word. -Thanks-. A whisper. No more louder. He smiled a bit, relieved that you were feeling better than before. -Y/n, do you want to lie down a bit? Want me to fetch something for you? A glass of water, perhaps? -. This moment were far in between, but he had it down to a fine art. -Yes, water would be nice. And if we... if we could.... - ah, yes. That was the shy boy he fell in love with. That alone made his heart skip a beat. -Of course , darling, whatever you need-. After getting up and changed in something fresher and setting under the cover, he settled behind you, your had in his chest, and nuzzlee a bit your curly hair. There was not a word said, only small caress on your back, constant as his heartbeat that lulled you to sleep. After all, you were exhausted. He than waited a bit more, making sure that you were properly asleep. He layed a kiss on your head, then on you cheek. He slided slowly away, minding you sleeping. He needed to talk to Shanks. Now.

Outside, at the wheel, there stood the captain. He seemed lost in thoughts. - Benn. I apologize for what happened earlier. I hope y/n is okay. -, - He is mostly okay now, he's sleeping. But we need to talk. This can't go on any longer. -. Of course they knew, being together since for many years helped them develop a unique bond. - I already punished her for her behaviour, but we will talk more. She should be grateful to her brother for what she helped her achieve. We don't accept this on this ship, do we? - -aye, cap'n. By the way, what do you intend to do with her. I sincerely hope that they can sort it out, but it that's not the case? What will you do? -. That question held thousand of others. Indeed he knew that Y/n's sister captured his captain's heart. - we have to wait. Hopefully everything goes for the better. Otherwise.... - . A nod followed. It was a promise he made for the three of them, and one that was always in his heart. The wellness of the crew came first to him, and nothing could change that.

After chatting with Shanks, he went back to go lay down with his man. After all, he too needed to feel him safe and sound in his arms, his small frame that fit so well with his. They were two sides of the same coin, and no one could divide them.

[swtorpadawan]

The Only Ones Who Can

Author’s Notes: With thanks to the lovely and amazing @chaosandwonder​ , for sending me the prompt “fifty reasons to touch someone” 30. ... as comfort  (Sorry this took so long! I can’t draw like you, but I can offer you this for your kindness. Sorry that I’m a slow writer!) She’s graciously granted me permission to use her OC in this piece. This story take place during the Battle of Corellia during the Class stories.

Corellan Halcyon splashed cold water on his face from the basin of the refresher, allowing the cool sensation to refresh him.

He had seen combat on dozens of worlds, but never on this scale before. Tens of thousands of Republic and Imperial soldiers were fighting all over Coronet City, most often in brutal block-by-block fighting. He couldn’t begin to calculate the total casualties of it all, much less the long-term impact of leaving so many citizens homeless. He’d once heard from Rusk – who’d been fighting wars since before Corellan was born – that urban fighting was the bloodiest imaginable and he now saw the truth of it. Choosing to fight such a battle in a city was madness, and yet he was being forced to do exactly that.

Corellan knew all this bloodshed was only furthering the Emperor’s plans. Whatever massive loss of life was required for his ritual the Battle of Corellia was certainly feeding into that. Somewhere out there, Tol Braga was orchestrating all of this under the Emperor’s control. Corellan was determined to prevent the Emperor’s dark work from coming to pass. The schemes he’d already stopped on Belsavis and Voss had, at their core, been precision attacks hidden amidst the backdrop of larger military operations, designed with the intent of triggering a chain reaction of apocalyptic events. A metaphorical hypodermic needle of poison to the heart.  

By comparison, Corellia, with its brutal all-out warfare, was been like a mallet to the head.

Corellan’s forces, both his own crew and those Jedi who Master Satele had placed under his command, had served magnificently thus far, prevailing against vast numbers of Imperials and Sith. Most of the Jedi reinforcements he’d been sent had been inexperienced when they’d arrived on Corellia, ‘raw recruits’ as Rusk had called them. Now, however, they were fighting like hardened combat veterans. They had already helped liberate most of planet’s famed industrial base, turning that military production in the Republic’s favor. Now they were gradually closing in on the government district.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Corellan and his people were winning. The Republic was pushing the Empire back.    

Now standing in the refresher of a makeshift Republic command center in Axial Park, he had just a few minutes to collect himself before the next mission. He’d sent Lord Scourge – who had little interest in saving lives on Corellia except as a necessity to foil the Emperor’s plans – to conduct reconnaissance and attacks of opportunity behind enemy lines. (He was remarkably proficient at it, and no Imperial soldier or officer was likely to challenge the Sith Lord’s presence. Even if rumors of a Sith Lord going rogue did emerge, it would only sow dissent among the Empire’s forces.) Doc was treating wounded soldiers and civilians in a nearby med-center. Teeseven was helping to get the Republic’s local communications systems online so they could coordinate larger operations from here. Kira – at Corellan’s insistence and over her very verbal protests – was recuperating back on their ship, having not slept in two days of fighting. He knew he would need her fresh and ready when the final confrontation came.

So it was that Sergeant Rusk would be joining him for his push against the Emperor’s Imperial Guard at Axial Park. It was a task the Chagrian was well suited for, given his long history of combat.

As he dried his face with a disposable towel, Corellan looked up at himself in the mirror. He found he barely recognized the Jedi looking back at him. He was freshly shaved, but his eyes looked sunken, his face thin. This was what war did to people.

Tython feels like a lifetime ago. He thought to himself.

But he had learned by now that putting on a brave face for those under his command was part of whatever it was that he contributed to the Jedi Order and to the Galactic Republic. So he rolled his shoulders, straightened his armor and robes, ran a comb from a Republic field kit through his hair, and prepared to return to the action.

His crew needed him. The Jedi task force needed him. Corellia – the planet from which his parents apparently came from – needed him. The galaxy itself needed him. (Or so Master Satele had said. Corellan had his doubts, but this was unquestionably his mission.) He took reassurance in the fact that he was needed. That Corellan Halcyon had a place in the galaxy where he belonged.

Corellan couldn’t explain it; he wouldn’t have even admitted it out loud to anyone besides Kira, but somehow, he knew they were going to succeed. It felt arrogant to even think such a thing, given the immense loss of life and after everything that had happened up until now. But for the first time since escaping the Emperor’s Fortress, the Jedi Knight was starting to envision a final victory.  

He was clinging to that confidence right now. At this moment, after days of almost constant fighting and weeks of missions all over the galaxy, that belief was keeping him on his feet.

I can do this. Corellan told himself.

Now refreshed if not rested, he stepped out of the refresher, prepared to head back to the gathering site to meet Rusk and the Jedi strike teams. They would need to be given their assignments. They would need to hear a few words from their (somewhat reluctant) field commander. They would need to be led.

It was then that he felt a nearby tremor nearby through the Force, his consciousness reached out on reflex as he felt a knot of pain and fatigue, coming from the passageway behind the refreshers. Corellan ducked his head around the corner to see if he could find the source of the disturbance.  

Seated in a fetal position on a pair of crash seats was a human female with arms wrapped around her legs and her head – crowned by her intricately braided long dark brown hair – buried in her knees. Clearly, she appeared deeply troubled. Corellan was surprised to see that she wore the long robes of a Jedi master as his brow furrowed in concern.

“Forgive me.” He kept his voice low, but clear as he intruded on her privacy. “Can I assist you, Master?”

Startled, the Jedi looked up at him. He noted she seemed young to hold the rank of master, appearing to be no more than a year or two older than he was, if that. Her eyes – a lovely shade of amber – were bloodshot with exhaustion while her bronze skin looked almost ashen. He saw no tears in her eyes, but she’d clearly been holding in a wellspring of emotion. As her eyes focused on him, she blinked in recognition.

“I know you.” She brushed a stray hair from her eyes. “You’re the Hero of Tython, aren’t you? Master Satele put you in charge of Order’s main task force on Corellia.”

He waved a dismissive hand at her use of that honorarium. Other Jedi might call him that; he was simply who he was.

“Just call me Corellan.” He cautiously leaned closer. “Can I… forgive me Master, but you look like you’re in distress?”

Suddenly self-conscious, the Jedi Master remembered herself. She lowered her feet to the floor and stood up, straightening her robes.  

“I’m Master Hiraya Manawari.” She gave him a weak smile. “You can call me Hiraya.”

Corellan’s eyebrows raised in recognition.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Hiraya.” He bowed, his arm crossing across his chest. “I’ve heard of your exploits. You’ve achieved some remarkable things for the order and the Republic. I’m glad to finally meet you.” He paused, recalling the details he’d heard of her current assignment. “I was told you were also leading a mixed task force. An alliance you formed coming from several worlds.”

“I was.” She stammered. “I mean… I am. But I’ve just received some troubling news.” Hiraya sighed. “I don’t know if I’m fit to be commanding anyone, right now.”

By his own reckoning, Corellan had very little experience counseling others, particularly not those in a position of leadership in his own Order. He briefly considered sending for some other Jedi more suitable to this task.

There’s no one left to call on. He quickly realized. Bela Kiwiiks was busy on the other side of the city helping the displaced refugees. Jun Seros and Corin Tok had both been killed in the fighting days ago, before Corellan had even arrived. The masters of the Green Jedi were either dead or otherwise occupied, desperately trying to save their schismatic order. The other Jedi he’d encountered seemed to be even less experienced than Corellan himself.    

He wasn’t conceited enough to believe that the Force had drawn him to her. But he seemed to be the only one here, now.

I must try. He swallowed.

“Will you tell me what’s happened?”

Hiraya chewed her lip in consideration, before evidently deciding to confide in him.

“My mentor in the Order… has fallen to the dark side.” She finally answered, letting out an exhale that conveyed a wave of bottled-up emotions. “He’s commanding a contingent of Sith forces here on Corellia.”

Corellan absorbed that, finding himself unsuprised. Jedi falling to the dark side was certainly nothing new to him, but privately he’d hoped he would have been informed by the Council about this development given his overall mission on Corellia.

If I’m forced to divert my attention towards another target, it could take days…

He stopped, embarrassed at himself. He’d processed her words as a military commander and strategist, not as an active listener. Not as someone trying to help her.

I’m already failing at this.

She continued, apparently unaware of his discourtesy.

“The council has ordered me to… to neutralize him.” Hiraya emphasized the word, as she sniffed, clearly aware of the implications of such a command. She cast her eyes downward. “I don’t know if I can bring myself to stand against him.”

He understood that he needed to say something now, even if he wasn’t very good at this.

“Tell me about your mentor?” he inquired.

“Well, his name is Master…” she started to answer.

But Corellan had immediately realized he’d erred again, asking the wrong question. He was thinking like someone trying to solve her problem for her, not helping her to work through it. The name and deeds of Hiraya’s mentor weren’t the important part of this conversation, as they weren’t the root cause of her turmoil.

“Forgive me.” He interrupted, raising a forestalling hand. “I meant to ask who your mentor was to you?”

Hiraya seemed taken aback for a second, but quickly recovered. Corellan could almost feel her powerful intellect turn inward on her own thoughts and feelings.

It’s good to talk about our problems with someone. Master Orgus had said to him once. Only now was he finally applying that lesson.

“Well, to me, he was like the village elders in my tribe.” she began. He could see Hiraya’s features start to soften at the wistful memory. “He welcomed me to Tython and was both like a father and mentor. Despite the fact I joined the Order later than most padawans, he made sure I didn't feel differently. It was through his guidance that I overcame my struggles and to become a rightful Jedi."

As she finished, Hiraya let out a long breath, and he could feel her relief at just sharing her troubles with someone. Corellan simply listened quietly, letting her get it out of her system. He couldn’t help but think of his own mentors, the Jedi Masters who had taught him. Nowan Ko, who had taught him to respect all life. Sagottoh, who had put a training sabre in his hand and reminded him that it did not give life; it brought death, and so it should only be used responsibly in the service of life. Orgus, who had completed his training, recognizing that while he could guide Corellan, but that his choices would be his own.

Where would I be now if not for them?

“He sounds wonderful.” He offered, in reflection.  

Hiraya rewarded him with a flash of a bright smile as her eye glazed over at the wistful memory.

“He is. He really is.” she sighed. Her expression soon fell again. “But now it’s as if he’s died, and rather than becoming one with the Force as he should have, he’s left this dark and twisted shell of himself behind. And I need to stop him. Here, on Corellia. If I can’t find some way to redeem him, to save the person who he was, then I have to kill him.”

She looked away sadly.

“I don’t know if I can bring myself to do that.”

Corellan felt an upswell of sympathy at her plight. He couldn’t imagine being asked to face Orgus Din under such circumstances. Or – Force help him – Sagottoh Panaka or Nowan Ko.    

“That’s a terrible burden to carry.” He offered, feeling helpless as he chewed his lip. “I know there’s nothing that I can say that will make this any better. But for whatever its worth, they wouldn’t have entrusted this task to you if you couldn’t handle the responsibility. That you are the best Jedi for this mission.”  

Hiraya nodded silently in thanks. He hoped she didn’t mind hearing something she probably already knew.

“Do you think I can save him?” she whispered. “Bring him back to the light?”

Corellan chewed on that and perhaps inevitably considered his own predicament with Tol Braga. He’d not known the Jedi Master for long, but in just a few months he’d come to see the Kel Dor as another valued mentor, and one of the most dedicated Jedi Masters he’d ever met. But Corellan knew what the Emperor had twisted him into. And now, Braga was attempting to bring about the annihilation of Corellia, granting the Emperor enough power for his ritual to end the Galaxy. It was as evil and destructive a goal as Corellan could imagine.    

Tol Braga had to be stopped. No matter what the cost.

So, he now suspected, did Hiraya’s fallen mentor.

“I don’t know.” Corellan finally found his resolve. “But it’s good to have hope. Nothing else is possible without it.”

He pressed on, even knowing what a toll this campaign had been for her and what lay ahead.

“And… I think that when the time comes, you’ll do everything that could be done. That whatever happens, you’ll do the best you can and that’s the most anyone could ask for. You’ve accomplished great things for the galaxy, and you know your former mentor better than anyone else they could have sent. If you can’t help him, then no one else could have.”

“You have more worth and value to the order and the galaxy besides being a fighter or a military commander. You’re a diplomat, a healer, a scholar and already a teacher to others. Jedi like you are the future of our order.”

He gave Hiraya the most reassuring look he could muster.

“Your mentor clearly saw that in you, and whatever has happened since then, they’ve obviously helped cultivate those qualities. And that person will always be a part of you. Your actions and your choices are your own, but the person your mentor was lives on in everything you do. Whatever the future holds, you are his legacy. Your deeds and achievements honor him.”

Hiraya closed her eyes.

“I understand.” Her voice was fatigued, but a grim acceptance had taken hold.

“Good.” Corellan scratched the back of his head sheepishly. He felt acutely out of his depth, advising a Jedi Master on a personal crisis. “Well, that’s the most philosophical I’ve gotten for a while.”

“Wait.” Her eyes opened with a flash, full of concern. “What about you?”

“What about me?” he raised an eyebrow, not understanding the question.

“You’ve become the order’s champion. Our hero. But don’t you have value beyond being a warrior or a soldier?” Hiraya asked.

“Oh.” he was taken aback by that. His own future wasn’t a subject he normally considered.

It was Corellan’s turn to look down at the duracrete floor of the base. He considered the strange twists and turns his life had taken, from his time growing up as a youngling on Uphrades all the way up to the present. He thought of the things he’d seen, the places he’d travelled to and the people he’d met. He thought of Sagottoh and Nowan, and the various masters and mentors who had followed them. He thought of Orgus Din and his life-changing experiences on Tython. He thought of his crew and all their missions together leading up to now.

A strange life for a Jedi. He observed. Not at all what he’d expected.

“I think I was always meant to serve the order in a… martial capacity, I suppose.” He finally said. “If we weren’t at war, I’d probably be serving in some minor role, standing guard at the Temple of Tython, perhaps.” He recalled something Master Sagottoh had told him once. “Jedi weren’t intended to be soldiers or warriors. We were meant to be peacekeepers, counselors, and scholars and diplomats like you, for example.”

Just while speaking, he’d found his answer to her question, and how he saw himself within the Jedi.

“I fight for a galaxy where I’m redundant.” Corellan expanded. “Where Jedi like you are the norm, and ones like me are the exception. I expect if we ever defeated the Sith for good… when we defeat the Sith for good… I’ll just quietly withdraw from the wider galaxy and retire from the order. It would probably be better for everyone.”

He chuckled. The war had marked him, and it would continue to do so. He didn’t know what he’d be by the time it was over.

“Weapons should not be left out unattended.”  

Hiraya reached out, placing her hand on his. He was surprised by the simple gesture, drawing comfort from it.

“You have more to offer the Jedi and the galaxy than your prowess with a lightsaber, Corellan Halcyon.” She smiled warmly. “You are more than a weapon. Far more.”

Corellan found himself grinning boyishly, touched at the kindness in her words. He found himself feeling like a padawan again. He wasn’t sure her words, but he did appreciate that someone would say that of him.

“Thank you, Hiraya. That’s… very kind of you to say.”

She nodded in acknowledgement and sighed.

“Why did it have to be us?”

Corellan could tell that the question was intended to be rhetorical, but still felt it deserved an answer regardless. Indeed, he’d been asking himself that same question not long ago. The conclusion he’d come to was not easy to hear, but she deserved the truth.

He reached back and touched her hand as she had his, gently but firmly.

“Maybe because we’re the only ones who can.”

Hiraya’s eyes widened in surprise, and she looked past him for a moment. There was regret in her eyes, but he could feel her steely resolve as well.

“Perhaps we are.” She finally replied. Though her words were passive, he could feel the strength and resolve behind them. This was the Jedi Master who had saved so many lives and forged an alliance of disparate factions. Thus was the Jedi Master who had accomplished so much and who represented what the Jedi should strive to be.

As the two started to turn for the exit, he stopped her.  

“Hey - when this is over? When you finally get a chance to catch your breath?” he gave her a hopeful look. “Take some time for yourself. Do whatever it is that brings you peace. You deserve it.”  

Hiraya blinked as her cheeks blushed prettily, the corners of her lips turning upward into an unexpected grin as she looked past him again. Corellan couldn’t say what thought had drawn that reaction from her, but he suspected that his words had led the Jedi Master to consider something very specific. He found his own thoughts turning to Kira and everything she meant to him. He drew comfort in the sensation, and strength for the battle to come.

“Thank you.” She finally said. “For that and everything. I hope in time you can follow the same advice.”

Corellan didn’t miss her meaning, simply nodding firmly in thanks. He hoped the same, though he did not trust himself to say as much.

“Don’t mention it.” Now girded, the soldier – the Jedi hero and the reluctant military commander – mentally snapped back into place. Rusk would no doubt approve. So would have Orgus Din.  

“You ready?”

“I am.” She answered, her lips turning upwards until her expression matched his.

And with that, the two Jedi departed the base. Corellia – and their destinies – awaited them.

Author’s Notes: A little cliched, I know. But I wanted to write something soft.

@chaosandwonder​ is an amazing person, by the way. I am so grateful that she is part of this community. In Corellan’s story, Ulannium Kaarz is the Barsen'thor of the Jedi Order, and his tale follows that of the Jedi Counselor. Hence, I intentionally leave Syo Bakarn’s name out of it, so as not to compromise @chaosandwonder​ ‘s own story. Nevertheless, Hiraya seems a delightful character.

(In case it wasn’t obvious, when Hiraya grins near the end she is supposed to be thinking about Felix.)

Corellan’s point of view of himself and the galaxy would change by the end of Knights of the Eternal Throne. But I wanted to discuss his perspectives at this particular point. He is humble, but more than that, he doesn’t consider himself exceptional, except as a warrior.

The Jedi Knight on Corellia storyline can be a little frustrating. Satele claims to be putting you in charge of all Jedi forces on-planet, but this is clearly an exaggeration, as you find Jedi all over the planet who aren’t under your command, not counting the ones from the Consular story. So I’m simply calling Corellan’s group the ‘main Jedi taskforce’ here.

Quick notes

- I’ve always liked the character of Rusk, underdeveloped though he is. I’d like to explore Corellan’s relationship with him further in the future.

- Corellan doesn’t know Jun Seros was a corrupt fanatic at this point. More on that later.

- I have more planned involving Sagottoh and Nowan.

Thank you for reading.

(Tagging people who expressed interest - @lordviridis , @a-muirehen , @darthsinister66 , @tishinada , @walk-ng-d-saster , @agricorpsaurek , @chaoticspacelesbians , @reena-kk , @the-raven-of-highever and @swtor-writers-guild​ )

[airgetlamhh]

Thoughts on Lostbelt 2

Longpost ahead.

So.

Lostbelt 2. Finally played it after so long, and this will contain spoilers.

To make sure everyone knows what they’re getting into, I’ll give the thesis statement right here: Lostbelt 2 is bad. 

The entire time I played through the story, I kept waiting for it to pick up. I kept waiting for it to shrug off the poor pacing, the deus ex machinas, the random things just happening for the convenience of the plot. I kept waiting for it to shrug off the poor characterization, the constant telling instead of showing, the moral myopia. It never did. 

From nearly the very start to finish, Lostbelt 2 is bad. 

We start off fairly fine! A desperate ploy to sneak through the Lostbelt to meet up with the allies we’ve learned about, the Wandering Sea, interrupted by a Lostbelt Servant attacking us with the intent of stealing the Paper Moon that allows us to perform Zero Sails. All of that is a decent setup!

And then we’re told how strong this Saber is. How incredible they are. How their swordplay surpasses anything else they’ve ever seen, how they desperately wish that Musashi was there, how no no, he didn’t use his sword, he only parried! Things that Sherlock Holmes observes, not Mashu, not the one who’s actually been fighting for two years now, so Mashu seems borderline useless. Holmes figures out it’s Sigurd because...he uses a sword in a Scandinavian Lostbelt, and he figured out that Holmes used magic because Holmes fire magic lasers at him. From this, Holmes is able to pinpoint Sigurd’s identity, and that’s just the setup for the rest of the chapter, really. 

To be specific, what I mean is that we will constantly be told how incredible someone is with very little evidence, and the plot will bend and warp to make certain things happen. 

The scene does exactly one good thing, which is the foreshadowing of Surtr. Coming into it knowing that aspect allowed me to appreciate little bits like Surtr talking about Heroic Spirits like he wasn’t one, and Surtr not being able to kill Mashu because Sigurd resisted it. But that’s about all that was good in the scene, and all it really does is set up a consistent thing of Surtr being one of the only good parts - until he isn’t, of course.

I’m going to shift here from specifics to characters, because otherwise I’d be rehashing the entire story and I don’t have the time or effort required for that. That being said, it is difficult to decide where to start, so I’ll go right to the very building blocks of the story, the themes. 

Lostbelt 2 is, very obviously, attempting to have a theme of different kinds of love throughout the story. Part of this is because it’s very much set up like an otome game that the author Hikaru Sakurai would write, with Ophelia in the center, but it’s a more general theme too, with Skadi and the others all building up towards it. Now, love is an absolutely wonderful thing to build your themes around, exploring and examining it can be great for stories. Beasts themselves do that, examining different varieties of genuine, but toxic love that allow them to be well-meaning monsters.

The problem is that Lostbelt 2 does not engage with these themes on anything but a surface level. Skadi represents maternal love, so she constantly talks about how everyone is her children and how she’s their mother. No examination of the desire to see her children grow, the pain she feels when they fight, the struggle of forcing herself to cling so tightly knowing that it’s suffocating them and going to kill them before they reach 26. 

Napoleon represents passionate love, so he flirts with every woman he sees. No examination of why he’s so passionate or what drives him to burn so brightly, beyond a token mention that for some reason when he’s summoned he’s driven to seek out a lover, another aspect of things happening to serve the plot. 

Sigurd and Brynhildr represent true, romantic love, so they act mushy the entire chapter from the moment the real Sigurd appears. Now, don’t get me wrong, I liked their scenes a lot and I’m happy that they chose that portrayal instead of the one I was afraid of where it was yandere jokes day in day out. But there’s no engagement with the fundamentals of their love, nothing that tests it, even the existing complications with Brynhildr’s tragic summoning are swept away with a single line of “I can resist them better now maybe because my saint graph is broken”, so ultimately there’s no conflict whatsoever. And sure, that’s nice, but it’s not very good if you’re trying to build your story around a theme of love. 

Next, Surtr, who represents obsessive, dangerous love. I honestly actually think Surtr’s done well, even if the love he happens to represent is the least positive one. Surtr is capable of only one thing, destruction, and when he fell for Ophelia in that moment where she saw him and he saw her, he decided that if he ever had the chance, he would repay her the only way he knew how: allowing her to watch as he destroyed everything. When he’s summoned, he acts basically like the possessive one in an otome game, constantly talking about how Ophelia is his woman, getting angry when Napoleon flirts with her, spending most of his time pushing things between them as far as they can go etc. etc. I’m not particularly a fan of how his desire to repay Ophelia battling against his singular purpose transformed him into a typical possessive bastard boyfriend, but it’s at least engaged with on a deeper level.

Finally, Ophelia. She’s the otome game protagonist here, born into an controlling family and finally freed, hiding a secret special power, beloved by almost all the men involved in the chapter while she’s harboring feelings for someone else, even has the typical friendship route with Mashu going on. Her love is a love that she doesn’t acknowledge, but that’s all it is. It’s never engaged with beyond the fact that she clearly loves Kirschtaria but insists she doesn’t, and her final scene as she dies is Mashu telling her that yes, she did love Kirschtaria. That’s all. 

For a theme of love that’s supposedly woven into the Lostbelt, it’s barely examined at all. It’s not well written, and in comparison to Lostbelt 1′s theme of what it means to live in a world where the strong devour the weak and how deeply it examined and engaged with that, it’s a genuine disappointment.

Now, to move onto the plot, it’s...in the abstract, it’s fine. Chaldea is intercepted and forced to fight in the Lostbelt and ends up dragged into the overarching ploy by Surtr to release himself and burn everything. That’s a perfectly fine story, but the problem is that when you get to the moment-to-moment stuff, it falls apart completely. 

Skadi is constantly talked up as this incredibly powerful true goddess, not merely a Divine Spirit, and we know she can see and hear our every move because of her snow. How does the story work around this borderline omniscience within her Lostbelt? Skadi just decides not to do anything about Chaldea with zero rhyme or reason. We need to sneak into the palace and avoid alerting the guards, except Skadi already knows exactly where we are, except that doesn’t matter because we need to sneak in for some reason. We get captured with no plan to escape, and it just so happens that not only was Skadi keeping a Divine Spirit amalgamation locked in the dungeons too, but that she can piggyback on you making a contract with Napoleon (pure dumb luck you hadn’t done it before) and force a connection with you too, and then cast spells to hide you while you escape. Skadi knows we’re trying to free Brynhildr, who is the sole threat to Sigurd and Skadi’s own Valkyries in the entire Lostbelt? She just decides to do nothing at all. 

So much of the plot happens because either Skadi makes terrible decisions to do nothing, even though she knows Chaldea is there to destroy her entire world, or it happens because random shit goes on that couldn’t have been planned for like Sitonai. Shit like Surtr suddenly becoming Fafnir and being able to use the Evil Dragon Phenomenon to brainwash Ophelia somehow, like Ophelia’s Mystic Eye being able to do anything the plot demands, even when it explicitly goes against its existing capabilities like rewinding time on Sigurd’s wounds, like Bryn and Surtr somehow being able to resist the effects of her eye with no buildup or explanation. It’s poorly written in terms of the exact events that happen, and that all culminates in Skadi’s one cool moment, where she declares she’s going to kill the seven billion we fight for for the sake of her ten thousand...and then right after, it reveals that Skadi was going easy on us and refused to use her runes of instant death for no reason even though she was fighting for the survival of her entire world. The moment to moment plot is not good, and neither is what comes next, the worldbuilding.

In Skadi’s Lostbelt, half the world is covered in Surtr’s flames, while the other half is blanketed in Skadi’s snow. Where the two areas meet are the only places where life can grow, and so Skadi set up villages there. Unfortunately, there isn’t enough food for everyone, so she enforces strict population control: if you are not the mother or father of a child by 15, you are sent away to be killed by the giants. If you are the mother or father of a child, you are sent away to be killed at 25 instead. Through this tragic method, Skadi enforces a limit of 100 villages with 100 people, a total population of 10000. This is all fine. 

But take a closer look at what we actually see, and this falls apart. First, the giants. The giants are immortal and never need to eat. They do nothing but sleep all day and attack any human that comes close to them. Later, it’s revealed that they’ll attack any heat source including Valkyries, except we know that’s not true. Giants never attack each other, they never attack and destroy any of the plant life around them, they never attack the Lostbelt tree seeds, they even fight alongside mass-produced Valkyries before it’s revealed that Skadi and the three originals can mind-control them! They exist only to destroy, but Skadi can control them with her masks and indeed uses them as labour, keeping them chained up in her castle to be brought out and controlled as needed, or using them to guard Brynhildr’s castle. 

Worst of all, the first time we meet anyone in the chapter, it’s Gerda, who is sneaking out of her village to go to the massive liveable area close to Village 23. This area happens to be the only place she can go to get medicinal herbs that she needs or one of the people in her village will die in childbirth. This area is also full of giants, who have not destroyed it despite being fertile and full of life and heat, and who are allowed to take this place that could be used to grow more food for humans who need it, and simply stay there doing nothing. 

Now, this is where I thought the game would engage with things. How Skadi, in professing her love for all her children, is actually being cruel and unfair. They certainly set it up in the conversations she has, where she casually mentions how humans must die for her coexistence to continue. Skadi chooses to keep the giants alive despite the fact that they are all braindead and can do nothing but kill and destroy the moment their masks are removed. She chooses to keep them alive even though it comes at the expense of the humans who must die when the giants never make that same sacrifice. She chooses to allow them fertile land even though they cannot farm nor do they need food, and in doing so deprive the humans of potentially living longer, having more supplies to do so. She makes these strange choices and then later reveals she can control the giants to do her bidding, and it all seems to fall into place. 

What we see from how she’s characterized early on is that the system is unfair and Skadi is unwilling to change, because it benefits her tremendously. Gerda’s village didn’t have enough herbs to save the children forced to breed by 15, and despite Skadi’s omniscience letting her know that Gerda had snuck out and was trying to save a life, she did nothing. There was no system in place to beg a Valkyrie to get these herbs, and no indication whatsoever that Skadi would use her powers to control the giants to save Gerda’s life. The picture painted is someone who cares about humanity not out of true care, but simply out of obligation. Those who disobey her rules, even for good reasons, are left to die by the engines of destruction she keeps alive.

That’s not the story it tells later on, though. Skadi, portrayed from the start as this all-powerful goddess with complete control over everything, is revealed to be far weaker than we thought, and far less monstrous. Ignore all the times she did control the giants, she actually can’t do it all that well. Ignore all the times she declared she would not allow anyone she loved to be killed, but chose not to act to tell her Valkyries or her giants or anything else to save either Chaldea or Gerda. Ignore the evidence we see on screen that there’s more land that’s simply taken over by the giants, Skadi can only make those initial 100 villages and can’t make any more. Skadi is not bad. Skadi did the best she could. Skadi is morally right. 

Please love Skadi, there’s no complicated moral quandary here, she’s just Good.

Comparisons to Lostbelt 1 are impossible to avoid. Both have the same basic cause, a calamity that was impossible to predict and impossible to avert. The stagnation that dooms a Lostbelt created by the kings in question in their desperation to survive. Ivan turned humanity into the Yaga and created a world of strength, where progress is impossible because everyone in his new world was too busy devouring each other to work together. Skadi created a world of weakness, where progress is impossible because she limited the population to avoid everyone dying out. There is, however, one crucial difference between the two. Not in terms of story, not in terms of characters, not in terms of themes. 

“Your existence itself has already become a grave sin.”

That one line, spoken to Ivan, is the biggest difference between how the story engages things. In both Lostbelts, Ivan and Skadi did horrible things and made horrible choices because they had to, for the sake of survival. Ivan twisted humanity into monsters that lost capacity for mercy or empathy, while Skadi forced brutal population control and careless death on humanity because of her refusal to allow the giants to be destroyed. Both of them did horrible things, but only one is held to account by the story.

What Ivan did was evil, and the story recognises it. It doesn’t accept the excuse that it was all necessary for survival, because that’s irrelevant. It’s evil regardless. This same sentiment should have been expressed with Skadi, but it’s not. Ivan is condemned, but Skadi is absolved. She had no choice. She did the best she could. After building her up as all-powerful, the end of the story instead destroys her agency and power in its haste to prevent any kind of responsibility falling on Skadi’s head. Even to the very end, where she declares that she’ll kill all seven billion lives we fight for for the sake of her ten thousand, she holds back and allows us to win, despite how it butchers her character.

The biggest irony in all this is that Ivan’s world was worse than hers in ways. There was no way for the blizzards to stop, no meat besides for the demonic beasts. Crops couldn’t grow, and instead of living in peace, the Yaga were constantly tormented and killed by the Oprichniki. There were no liveable areas like there are in Lostbelt 2, no merciful ruler that sees all, and controls the greatest threats, no peaceful villages where food can be grown. There’s far more justification for Ivan to claim he had no choice and that he did all he did for survival, because it’s hard to see what his choices were. But Skadi? Skadi intentionally does not act and intentionally allows suffering and pain to come to her children, both actively by not saving Gerda, and passively by allowing the giants to take land they don’t need. Despite this, Skadi is absolved, because the story desperately wants her to be a tragic waifu that you love.

There’s lots more I could talk about. How Sitonai was pointless and existed only for a pathetic FSN reference. How Gerda was a cowardly and manipulative piece of writing compared to Patxi. How Ophelia’s story of always being told what to do is resolved not by her taking the step to freedom herself, but being told to free herself by someone else. The constant repetition that plagues the chapter, the weirdly prevalent sexism that everyone gets in on when it comes to Ophelia’s love life, the nonsense of the final battle itself, the absolute nonsense of Skadi being Scáthach-Skadi. I could even talk about how I’d fix the chapter, because boy howdy there’s a lot there. 

There’s lots more I could talk about, but this is already very long, and I think it speaks for itself. Obviously asks are available if anyone wants me to examine them in more detail, but for now, I’ll finish off with one last reminder.

Lostbelt 2 is bad.  

[obxparadise]

Red Flags

JJ Maybank x Reader  

Word Count: 1,937

Requested: @maybebanks

~A fic in which JJ finds out you’ve been abused by your boyfriend, Rafe~

Warnings: Mentions of abuse and drugs

A/N: If you enjoyed this, leave a comment!

*GIF is not mine. Credit to the owner.* 

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

“You’re stupid.”

“You’re worthless.”

“I don’t know what I see in you.”

Another day, another insult, another bruise.

The diamond tile floor is cold against your body. Blood is pumping through your veins, dripping from your lip, and soaking through your white tank top. Words are on the tip of your tongue, but you don’t speak. You know better. Speaking would be signing your death sentence, and you aren’t ready to die just yet. There’s still some fight left in you.

Rafe Cameron stands over you, his once pale face now red with fury, hands balled into fists that have drops of your blood on them. He breathes hard, eyes wide and darting around the room in a frenzy. His arms are shaking and his pupils, usually small and scrutinizing, are larger than normal. There’s only one reason for it.

Cocaine.

And he loves it more than you.

That was the first red flag. His obsession with cocaine clouded his mind, fucked with his ability to think straight. At the start of your relationship, he hid it. Three months later, you walked into his room and caught him snorting the end of a line. And you ignored it.

He’d stolen from his father Ward, several times. That was the second red flag. Rafe was blessed to have been born into a wealthy family. He never worked a day in his life. The drug money came from Ward’s private safe, or from gold watches Rafe had pawned off without his father’s knowledge. And as you watched Rafe steal ten thousand dollars from the safe, you ignored it.

You arrived at his house three minutes later than you said you would. The party had gotten out of hand and you lost track of time. As you tried to explain and calm him down, his hand connected with your cheek. Red flag number three. Ignored.

“I used to get chills looking at you,” Rafe says, emotionless. “Now? I’m fucking sick of looking at you.”

There was a time Rafe Cameron did love you, if only briefly, if only for two months. He courted you, kissed you, held your hand in public. He opened doors for you, complimented you, and made love to you.

No more.

His kisses? Replaced with bruises.

Compliments? What were those?

You watch as Rafe stiffens, the sound of a car door slamming shut startling the both of you. The glass table in the dining room is just out of reach. You peer up at Rafe through wet lashes just in time to see him pull you to your feet.

His thumb collects leftover blood from your lip. It’s the closest thing to a tender touch you’ve received in years. As you stare into his eyes, you notice his pupils have shrunk down to their normal size.

“Rafe, I--.”

“Get yourself changed,” he says, eyes flickering to your blood-stained shirt. With one last look, he turns his back. “And get out of my sight.”

~~~

The Chateau is your safe haven. Though old and run down, John B’s little shack feels more like a home than the spare bedroom in the Cameron mansion. The room is occupied by whoever decides to crash there, either by yourself or JJ. This time, it was yours.

Standing in front of the mirror, you slowly lift your shirt, sucking in a breath at the sight of the bright purple bruise decorating your hip. Slightly pulling down your bathing suit bottoms, you sighed as you noticed another bruise, small and brown. How are you supposed to go swimming like this?

“Knock, knock,” Pope says, tapping the door. You pull down your shirt just in time. “Ready to go?”

No, you’re not, but staying back will only cause suspicion, and the last thing you need is the Pogues asking questions.

~~~

The sun is warm on your skin, water cold as your feet hang off the side of the HMS Pogue. A beer in your hand, you watch as Kiara and Pope play a game of Marco Polo. John B treads in the water, staying close to you, while JJ continuously throws himself off the boat.

“How was that splash?” JJ asks, lifting a hand to block the sun from his eyes.

“Eh, I give it a four,” you tease. “I’ve seen better.”

“Show me how it’s done, then,” JJ challenges, pulling himself up onto the boat. Water drips from his sun kissed skin, bathing suit clinging to his thighs. “You haven’t even gotten in the water yet today.”

“Today?” John B snickers. “We’ve been out here four days this week. You love to swim, Y/N, what’s up with you?”

You offer John B a shrug. “Just you know, not feeling it.”

“That’s code for time of the month,” JJ grins, screeching as your hand barely misses hitting his leg.

“That’s what tampons are for, JJ,” Kiara shouts.

You snort and take another swig of beer, cringing underneath John B’s skeptical gaze. Normally, he’s able to see right through you. Right now, you pray he can’t.

~~~

“Y/N, there’s pizza out here,” Pope calls out.

“I’ll be right in,” you answer from the spare room. Stripping off your bathing suit, you throw it in a pile on the floor before pulling on a pair of black sweatpants and an old OBX hoodie. The side of your hip throbs slightly and you wince, lifting the hoodie to reexamine the bruise. Your fingertips brush over the swollen flesh just as John B pushes open the door, freezing in place.

A breath is trapped in your throat as you quickly cover the bruise, swallowing as John B’s eyes burn into yours.

“Y/N…” John B says slowly. He approaches carefully, noticing the apprehension on your face. “Please tell me that’s not what I think it is.”

“It’s a bruise,” you reply simply. “I fell down the last few steps at Rafe’s house. No biggie. Y’all know I’m clumsy.”

“Y/N,--.”

“John B,” your voice has an edge to it. “I’m fine. It was an accident,” you pat his cheek softly, offering a smile. “Come on, let’s go eat.”

~~~

“I need to talk to you.”

As you, Kiara, and Pope tend to the bonfire, John B pulls JJ aside. His lip is raw from the constant biting, wondering how he is supposed to break the news to his best friend.

“What’s up, man?” JJ asks, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He notices the uneasiness in John B’s eyes.  “Bro, you good?”

“I think,” John B pulls a hand through his hair. “I think Y/N is in trouble.”

JJ stiffens. “What kind of trouble?”

“Rafe trouble,” John B replies, gnawing the inside of his cheek. “I don’t want to make any assumptions…”

“Spit it out.”

John B sighs. “I think he hits her.”

Tension in the air is thick as both boys remain unmoving. The blood in JJ’s body runs cold as the words process in his brain. “What do you mean you think?”

“On her hip,” John B says, lowering his voice. He pulls up his shirt, demonstrating. “There’s a huge bruise. She acted like it was nothing, but JJ, I swear to you, I saw it.”

“Where’s my gun?” JJ asks, fists balled tightly as he begins to head back toward the Chateau.

John B’s hand stops him. “Not now, bro. You’re on probation. This isn’t the time to be stupid. I just figured maybe you could talk to her, since you know…” John B motions to the fading black and blue rim around JJ’s eye.

“This is Y/N we’re talking about,” JJ shoots back, voice pained. “I’d die for any one of you. But for her, I’d kill a man.”

~~~

You search the Chateau rooms, gathering as many blankets as your arms can carry. Pope is fixing the fire as Kiara sets up individual chairs for everyone to sit in.

Checking the spare room, you peek under the bed for any extra blankets, and the bedroom door slams shut, startling you. Peering over the bed from your knees, a distraught JJ stands with his back against the door.

“I’ll be out in a second, just getting blankets.”

“We need to talk.”

The four words no one ever wants to hear. Swallowing, you pull yourself to your feet, reminding yourself to keep your composure. “What’s up?”

JJ says nothing at first, eyes directed at the floor as he flicks the lighter in his hand. Sweat drips down your back as he finally looks up at you. “How are you, Y/N?”

Not what you were expecting. “I’m good. How are you?” You step up to him, abandoning the blankets in your hand to touch the ring around his eye. He flinches, and your heart breaks. I know how it feels, you think to yourself. “Your eye is looking much better.”

“Better than your hip,” JJ mutters.

You step back, blinking. “W-what?”

“When the hell were you going to tell me Rafe beats you?” JJ’s voice is gravelly as he steps toward you. “What the fuck happened to Pogues for life, huh?”

“JJ, what are you talking about?” You ask defensively, praying your face doesn’t betray you. “Rafe doesn’t hit me. Why are you accusing him?”

“So you’re saying he doesn’t?” JJ sneers. He pulls a hand through his blonde hair, tugging the ends before slapping his palm against his thigh. “I noticed today your lip was split down the middle. How’d that happen?”

The walls seem to close around you. Your chest constricts, labored breaths leaving your mouth. You can’t speak, only stare as JJ’s eyes scan your face. “I, uh, b-bit it too hard.”

Unconvinced, he steps forward, grabbing your jaw before you can move. There’s hurt in his eyes, and fear in yours. “Lift up your shirt.”

“JJ, don’t--.”

“Lift up your shirt,” he repeats quietly, lip quivering. “It’s just you and me.”

Tears gather in your eyes as the realization hits you. He knows.

Your fingers shake as they grab the bottom of your hoodie, lifting slowly to reveal the bruise. JJ immediately sucks in a breath, the size of the bruise unsettling. His hand goes to your hip just as you pull away from him. JJ’s heart sinks as a tear slides down your face. He reaches out and collects it with his thumb, gently rubbing your cheek as your head leans into his touch. “How long?”

“Two years,” you say, hiding the bruise once more. “I would’ve hidden it longer if J.B. didn’t open his mouth.”

“He shouldn’t have had to tell me,” JJ responds, gaze fixated on your face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What would you have done?”

“I would have been there for you!” He says it without hesitation, offended that you even had to ask. “You were the first person I told about my father. Shit, you were there for me more than anyone. You didn’t let me struggle by myself. And now…and now I find out this whole time, you’ve been letting yourself suffer when you know any one of us would’ve helped you.”

His words hurt, but they’re the truth. “I didn’t want you to worry about me.”

JJ’s hands find your face, cupping your cheeks as your fingers wrap around his wrists. “I am always going to worry about you,” he rests his forehead against yours, and there’s something intimate about the gesture. “Always.”

Sighing, you pull JJ in for a hug, nestling your face in his neck as his arms circle your waist. His embrace is warm and you sink into it. A protective barrier. And for once in your life, you feel safe.

[longitud-de-onda]

on a universal constant, falling off the bottom of the earth

pairing; javier peña x female reader summary; you and javier were best friends but life pulled you in separate directions. javi’s now just returned from colombia and you both find yourselves driving out to a spot in the desert in the middle of the night rating; t warnings; a subtle brand of depression, an existential crisis, some stuff that might be triggering if you’re suicidal or have a deep fear of death, so much angst you’ll probably want to sue me word count; 6.0k universal constant masterlist

July meant hot night air, so you leave your house and start up the truck, taking your time to wind through the streets. You don’t stop when you reach the edge of town, starting down the country road. There are no streetlights, just the great expanse of dirt and rock that rises into towering formations on either side. There’s no one else on the road. You’re too far away from anywhere anyone would want to be. 

The clear night sky out in the country has always been your favorite sight. The shades of deep purple and blue dotted with millions of stars have always fascinated you. When you were a kid you would climb up to your roof, spend hours lying up there questioning how far away every star was. You would wonder how big the universe was. Sometimes, you would imagine your house hanging off the bottom of Earth, an upwards gravitational pull the only thing keeping you from falling forever down into the dark.

You’re much older now. You had drifted in and out of your home, off to college for some time. Coming back.

You tried not to think about space like that anymore. 

In the distance, you can see the white light of a gas station approaching slowly. By the time the sign saying it’s a mile out arrives you’re already slowing down. You pull into the harsh glow, parking the truck and jumping down onto the asphalt. The hot dry air hits you hard. It’s not the invasive, sticky, painful heat. It’s soft and a light breeze caresses your bare arms to remind you that it could be much worse.

You enter the convenience store, struck by the realization of exactly where you are. 

It’s like you’re on autopilot as you walk to the back of the store, straight to the refrigerators, pulling out a six-pack of the off-brand soda you used to drink as a teen. It has been longer than you can even remember since you last tasted the sweet liquid, and you wondered if it would still taste the same. 

You grabbed a bag of jerky and a pack of M&Ms on your way to the register. 

The guy working wears the same teal vest the guys did all those years ago. The same acne riddled face of a teenager asks if you want a bag, the same careless voice. Almost like nothing has changed in twenty years except the music playing over the speakers. Who the hell would sign up to work all the way out here?

You suppose you’d have applied had you been ten years younger and unemployed.

You’re back on the road, driving away from the light, further into the emptiness of the desert. It’s easy to let your mind wander. Why couldn’t you fall asleep? Why did you leave the safety of your home? What was calling you to drive in this direction? 

It’s not a conscious decision that causes you to pull off the road, begin driving on a dirt path that hardly exists anymore, more like muscle memory. No longer does the familiar route have the worn-out path, free of shrubs, and you wince every time you have to run over another plant. 

The headlights cast long shadows across the prickly bushes. Sticks and small rocks are illuminated like devilish hands grabbing at the tires. Plumes of dust rising behind you restrict any view out your review mirror. A small animal, possibly a fox but you’re not entirely sure, darts across the trail along the point where the light fades into the black again, the motion causing you to slam the brakes. 

You start up once more, your truck bumping across the desert, out towards the hill that rises up in front of you. 

What’s drawing you back here, you’re not sure. A sick sense of nostalgia? Or a state of mind you haven’t allowed yourself to acknowledge since you were a teen?

Even though it’s been years since you returned from college, you haven’t come back here since one August night after senior year.

You stop the vehicle at the base of the hill. A few deep breaths center you. You stuff the food into your pockets, grab your purse off the passenger seat, along with the cans of soda. They’ve grown slick with condensation and while you can do nothing to stop the goosebumps that crop up on your skin, as soon as you exit the truck and reenter the summer heat, the cold feels good. You lower the cans to touch your thigh, allowing yourself to close your eyes and take in the sensation of cold aluminum brushing up against you. 

Slamming the door closed and locking the truck, you begin to hike up the hill, stopping only when you reach a large flat outcropping of rock. 

You walk out onto the boulder, sinking into a sitting position on the smooth stone. 

When you were a teen, you and Javier would come out here

Every time Javi’s mom would come back down from her near-permanent high, once a month or so to show up for some baseball game or to take him out for dinner, she and Chucho would start screaming at each other the whole night. Javi would throw a stone up at your window and you’d slip out onto the roof, jumping down to the ground and you’d drive out, pocketing handfuls of pebbles on the hike up to your rock. You’d take turns throwing them as far as you could. Each time screaming out the name of someone or something that had hurt you. 

The one day where Javi beat up Niles Breckinridge ‘cause he kept asking you out and you kept saying no and he decided to corner you in the girl’s locker room. How Javi found out what he was doing you had no idea, but Niles was on the floor, nose bleeding, and Javi’s knuckles were bruised when he grabbed your hand and you ran out to your car, the two of you laughing and crying as you hit the highway, skipping class to drive out to the middle of nowhere. 

When your parents started screaming about your grades you had shown up at Javi’s doorstep, crying, and he led you to the passenger seat of his car. You drove in silence until just past the gas station, and up on this boulder, over canned beer and Starbursts, everything came spilling out: the way Mr. Wallace wouldn’t give you any grade higher than a C unless you wore that low cut top to school once a week, how Mr. Chapman wouldn’t explain why you got an F on every single essay even when you asked him how you could improve your grade, how Mrs. Hayes didn’t like you because you were the only kid in Spanish class who didn’t grow up speaking the language, so your accent was terrible, how Ms. Gordon would let you rewrite any essay you wanted but never offer any advice on how to improve things, how Mr. Phillips didn’t care that you could do more push-ups than at the beginning of the year, only that you still could do the least in the class. And as your tears hit the flat stone overlooking the desert, you stared up at the sky and Javi lay next to you. You laid like that for hours that day, not touching, just side by side, existing in each others’ presence. 

The time you found Javi crying at the park, having been dumped by Morgan Powell, and even though you hadn’t spoken in weeks cause he didn’t want to spend any time with you anymore, he didn’t complain when you held his hand, walked with him to your truck, and found yourselves out in the middle of nowhere. He climbed down the hill to grab a blanket from the car and only for those three minutes he was gone did you let yourself cry. 

The night before Javi left for Texas A&M you spent the entire night out here, watching the sunrise before you climbed back down to the car, and you fell asleep on the drive home. That was your last chance to tell Javi that somewhere along the line you had fallen in love, and you never had the guts to say it. He was gone by the end of the day. 

It wasn’t fair, but you were leaving too, thousands of miles away. One of the only kids to leave the state. You had managed to turn your grades around and were headed up to New York to attend Vassar the next week, and you didn’t come home for summer break that year or the next. The third summer you got a job at the pool. You saw Javi a couple times, as you sat upon your lifeguard’s chair and he brought a different girl every week, hands flying all over their bikini-clad bodies. After the PDA got a little less family-friendly, they’d disappear. Halfway through the summer, he brought along Lorraine Crawford, your middle school best friend who ditched you as soon as you entered high school, and she kept coming back, week after week. 

Javi never noticed you sitting up there watching his every move like a hawk. You had drifted far from his life, and you weren’t sure if you really knew him anymore. 

You came back home after you graduated, got a job in the town center, bought a house, didn’t have to speak to your parents again after they moved away. You became a regular at the diner down the block, and you stopped by the coffee shop on Main Street every morning before work. Some of the people you knew from high school would invite you out to the bar every weekend. You’d go. 

Javi became a police officer. Some nights you’d see him on the other side of the bar. You weren’t friends anymore and you weren’t really sure when you stopped. Probably long before that last night on the rock. 

One day a fancy letter showed up in your mail. Nice paper, frilly letters. A wedding invitation. It came with a handwritten note, not from Javier, but Lorraine. You almost RSVP’d with a no. 

The church was beautiful and happy, and more than a few people there from high school surprised you with friendly words. You were contemplating going to the reception as you waited for the procession. You weren’t close to Lorraine or Javier. Not anymore. Free food didn’t seem worth inserting yourself somewhere you didn’t belong. 

A half-hour after the ceremony was set to begin someone announced that Javier hadn’t shown up. The wedding wouldn’t be happening. As you walked out of the building you could hear Lorraine crying. A month later the word around town was that Javier had moved to Colombia. 

You look out into the dark desert. The smell of sage is potent in the heat, and a lone pair of headlights appear in the distance. You watch the car as it speeds along before the red taillights of the other side of the vehicle disappear into the opposite horizon. 

You pop open a can of soda. 

It’s a mechanical sound that contrasts the soft whisper of the wind and the snakes, a few birds in the distance, and the low hum of insects. 

It’s never quiet out here but this background noise is the only thing that has ever truly calmed you. 

The taste of soda brings back more memories you thought had been lost. The early days on the playground with Javi, two six-year-olds climbing to the top of the structure as your parents both call out for you to get down. When you were eleven the two of you ran a lemonade stand for the whole summer, saving up to buy yourselves bikes. 

It wasn’t until Javi turned sixteen and instead of wandering the streets to avoid your families, he could drive you out of town, floating between convenience stores and rest stops for hours. It wasn’t long before you discovered this spot up here.

This rock became your spot. A sanctuary.

What drew you here after all those years, you weren’t sure. You rip open the pack of jerky, letting the tangy scent fill the air. 

Why didn’t you ever come back? The hot desert air is like a healing bath, seeping into your body as you gaze at the stars. After Javi left you had dated guys, spent evenings with friends, and lived your life. But you sit here now wondering what has happened with all the time. Had you been really living? Or just wandering through a haze? 

The truth was, you knew why you never came back. 

These memories were too painful to have sorted through any earlier. A whole life, wasted, as you fell away from the one person you loved as a teenager and never truly climbed back up from. 

Another pair of headlights appear in the distance, cutting a line across the brush. The car slows straight ahead of you and pulls off the road, heading towards where you sit. You glance down at your truck below. There isn’t enough time to get down there and into your car before whoever it is reaches you. Your hand slips into your purse, grasping around the canister of pepper spray. 

If you’re lucky, they aren’t headed up to your rock. 

The car pulls up and stops alongside your truck. You jump at the sound of the door slamming and peer down. 

You’d recognize that leather jacket anywhere, even in the penumbra of the headlights of his car before they flick off. You didn’t know he was back.

Another sip of soda. Waiting. The sound of rocks sliding down the hill. A couple crunches of dirt under shoes. Plastic against stone as you pick up the bag of jerky. Metal against stone when you set down your can. Deep, slow breaths. Dark leather boots next to your leg, tapping against the rock. A low groan. Javi sitting next to you. 

You keep staring off at the horizon, your chest rising and falling. The last time you were actually really with Javi you were 18. His car parked in front of your house. 8:30am. He jostled your shoulder, pulling you up from your slumped position against the window as you slept. You got out, the blanket still wrapped around you and he hugged you on your front lawn. He whispered goodbye to you, and you were too tired to say anything back. 

All the other times your paths had crossed it had been in silence and at a distance. Years and years of nothing. You had everything to say to him but you weren’t sure if any of it was worth saying. The man sitting beside you used to be an extension of yourself. Now he’s a stranger.

You pull a cold can out of the plastic rings, extending it towards Javi.

“Soda?”

“Thanks.” He grabs the can, his fingers brushing against yours. Enough to feel how rough they were.

You had imagined his voice would be the same as the lanky teen he was back then. It hadn’t even crossed your mind that it would be this much lower, deeper, hoarser. Hesitant. 

A hiss then the pop comes. Your gaze shifts over to watch his hands. They’re so big around the small can and he lifts it up to his lips to take a sip. Finally, after all this time, you get to give Javi a good look. The years have treated him well. The Colombian sun leaving a deep bronze tone, his face a far cry from the clean-shaven boy he once was. You had seen him after college, after he grew out the mustache and his hair darkened, face filling out into an even more handsome one. But in the time since then, a few lines have been left in his forehead and around his eyes. Still doesn’t make him any less beautiful.

“Haven’t had one these in ages,” he says. 

You look away, not responding. What could you say? What was there to talk about? Could one night up here possibly cover even a portion of what had happened?

Then in a terrifying moment, your brain puts something forward that shakes you to your core. 

Did he even want to talk to you anymore? Or had you grown so far apart that there was nothing left?

Javi sets down his can and shrugs off his jacket, throwing it to the side. You can feel him staring at you, but can’t bring yourself to break your gaze at the sky. You lean back, lying on the cool stone. All you can think of is how the distance between you and Javier feels further than you and those stars.

“You know, sometimes during stakeouts, looking over Bogotá? I would pretend we were up here. Staring out over the desert like we did when we were kids. I’d wonder if you were lookin’ up at the same stars I was.” His voice cracks momentarily and he lets out a shaky breath. “I’d always think about how you’d talk about falling off the bottom of the earth.”

You press your eyes closed, blocking out the deep expanse of the universe. The speed at which you were zooming back to Javi was too goddamn fast. How can he say that? How can he think about you when he hardly gave you the time of day after you both left home for the first time. When he wasn’t even the one to invite you to his own wedding.

“Do you come up here often?” he says.

You still haven’t said more than a word since he got up here. You’re not sure if the honest answer is the one he wants. You say it anyway.

“No. Last time was with you.” You try to hide the fact that tears are streaming down your face but he wasn’t fooled by that when you were kids, he wasn’t going to be fooled now. It’s easier to let the tears show through in your voice than hide them as you say, “Did you bring Lorraine up here?”

He’s quiet and you hear the burbling hunting call of a quail. Then a soft rustling as he lays back onto the stone too. 

“Why would I do that?” he asks. 

You have the guts now to tilt your head over and give him that questioning look. 

“Why wouldn’t you? You seemed to love her. Back before, you know...”

Once again he’s quiet. The sky seems to have lost any of the reddish tinges, leaving only the deepest ocean blue. You wish it was the ocean. Maybe if it was it wouldn’t make you think so much. You could just stare and stare and empty your mind. 

A breeze blows by and you shiver, cold for the first time this whole night.

“Yeah, well. Didn’t seem right, you know? This is our spot,” he says. 

You push yourself back up, staring back down at him.

“Our spot?” you ask. “Javi, is there even an ‘us’ anymore?” 

You place your elbows on top of your crossed legs and rest your forehead on your hands. You were always too quick to get worked up. Too fast to think through the things you said. Javi had extended an olive branch and you may have snapped it in half.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

“No, I’m sorry. We drifted, I don’t know.” He sits back up beside you. “You never sent a letter and I didn’t either. That first summer back you weren’t there. After the second I thought you didn’t want to see me. Stopped looking, I guess. That’s on me.”

“I was back the third summer, you know?” you say, “I was a lifeguard at the pool. Watched you come in with Lorraine week after week.”

“You were?”

“Yeah.” You don’t say how you watched him with all the other girls too. 

“After I graduated, thought I might come back. Say hello. I heard Vassar already graduated, so if you were back, you’d be there. Your parents’ place was empty.”

“They moved out. I bought a house closer to town.” You picked up your soda again and took a sip.

“I saw you at the bars a couple times.”

“So did I. You never said hi.”

“You didn’t either,” he says. 

You pull out the bag of M&Ms from your pocket. Javi laughs. It sounds clear in the middle of the night. The only competition for airwaves is the quails. You fiddle with the edge of the plastic before it glides open, and you dump a few of the chocolates into your palm.

“Of course you were hiding those.” You can hear the smile in Javi’s voice.

You hold out the bag to him and he extends a palm, allowing you to pour some into his hand. 

Looking down at your own collection, you push the candies into colored categories as best you can in the desaturated night light. 

“You know, I was at your wedding. Lorraine sent me the invitation. Said you didn’t add me to the guest list but she thought you’d want me there anyway. I was sitting there in the pews as the time ticked and nothing happened. And you know what? I wasn’t getting worried about you not showing up. That never crossed my mind.” You take a breath. “I was sitting there debating whether or not I should go to the reception. Make the two of you speak to someone you both had fallen out of touch with. It didn’t seem fair.” 

“You were there?” he sounds distant, voice shaking a bit and you glance over to see his gaze glazed over, fixated on some spot in the desert.

“Yeah. Lorraine was really torn apart after that. We went out for drinks a week later. She asked me what the hell was wrong with you. I didn’t have an answer,” you say. “We made up. She was an asshole in high school, but so were so many others. I forgave her. When she got married to Randy, I was one of her bridesmaids.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t invite you,” he says. You think he’s going to say more. Give an explanation. Nothing comes.

“Why’d you do it?”

“Not invite you? Or leave Lorraine?” he asks. 

“I don’t know. Both, I guess?”

He exhales. You’re putting him on the spot, you know that. But that’s what this hill is for. It’s where you say the tough stuff. You let each other cry. It’s the place where you let yourselves feel without voicing half of it because the other knows exactly what you’re going through. 

It still wasn’t comfortable enough to let you say the toughest thing of all.  

And worse, right now, you have no idea what’s running through Javi’s mind. 

“I couldn’t bring her into all of it,” he starts. “I had been in the DEA for a year by then. Knew the tough shit I’d have to do. If I was going to go up any higher, I was scared I’d be putting her in danger. And part of it was that I was just an asshole. Guess I still am.”

You pour out a few more M&Ms into your palm. The red ones go near your fingers, next yellow, then green, blue, and brown. All the way down to the heel of your hand. You eat the red ones first. One by one. 

“You’re not. You might have been to Lorraine, but you’re not. You care, Javi.” You look over and he’s still focusing on some little spot in the distance. 

“I am though. You don’t know what I’ve done. Down in Colombia. I—I did things you wouldn’t have liked.” He stopped to put an M&M in his mouth. A few minutes passed as he chewed the remaining candy in his palm, one by one. Then washed them down with the soda. “I killed people. And my decisions left even more dead. I did so many bad things.”

“Why?” You swallow.

“You used to not ask that.”

He was right. You used to say things. No explanations needed. You both had grown. “I don’t feel like I can read you as well as I used to.”

Javi sets down his can on the rock. The soft clink seems to echo across the sweeping land. You wouldn’t be surprised if the guy at the gas station heard it.

“I had to do a lot of the things,” he whispers. “Did a lot of the other things to forget the things I had to do.”

You look over him as he closes his eyes. You think you see a tear fall down the side facing away from you, but he tilts his head away.

“I’m sorry,” you say. You didn’t use to say that either.

“Wasn’t your fault.”

“You shouldn’t have had to go through that. Alone. You know?”

Javi deserved people in his life. He had gone through so much shit as a kid; to have to go through even more as an adult, it wasn’t fair.

“You mean Lorraine?” Your heart aches when you hear the way Javi says her name. It’s different from the way he says yours. Different emotions. You suppose that’s what his voice sounds like when he says the name of someone he loves.

You don’t fucking mean Lorraine though. You’re tiptoeing around it, but you mean you. 

“No, I just mean anyone. You might not have wanted to bring her into all of it but maybe you needed to have brought someone. So you didn’t feel so alone.”

If it was anyone else sitting next to him, they wouldn’t notice the way his hand shakes, the empty can making no noise, but it’s not anyone else. Maybe Lorraine would have noticed too.

You wish Javi had reached out to you, all those years ago when he thought you didn’t care. Maybe you could have gotten to be part of his life, even if you weren’t in the front row, you could still be in the theater. Not sitting in the parking lot, crying in your car. At least that’s what these past twenty years or so have felt like.

Underneath all the stars he looks so small. You both do. You want to hug him. Or something. You can’t even bring yourself to nudge his foot with yours. 

“Never said I felt alone,” he says.

“You didn’t have to.”

You feel the tears in the corners of your eyes and you try to blink them dry. It doesn’t work. You love Javi so much that if he really wanted to be with Lorraine, you were going to be there and make sure he was happy. But in the end, that wasn’t what he wanted.

It’s weird how having someone suddenly back in your life can make it feel like everything is right again. Like your entire existence has felt so pointless because he wasn’t part of it. You never believed in soulmates, but you thought that maybe someone was right when they decided that you’re bonded to someone in life. That their presence would make you whole again. They were just wrong in believing the other person would always love you back.

“I didn’t invite you because I didn’t know if you cared anymore. I felt we were too far apart that I wouldn’t matter,” he says. “I was scared you didn’t care anymore.”

“We could not speak for 50 years and I’d still want to be at your wedding, Javi. You’ve always mattered.” That was it, wasn’t it? Javi was always what mattered.

When your life felt like everything was falling apart as it always seems to when you’re a teen, he was always there to catch you. And you caught him too. Time and time again. And then your lives parted ways and you started falling with no net. Javi mattered.

“Why’d you come out here?” he asks.

“What?”

“Why’d you come all the way out here when you haven’t been back since we were 18?”

“Did you ever come back? Until today?” Even without Lorraine, you assume he might have. But maybe he’s like you. It hurt too much to come out here. Almost like you couldn’t without Javi. Not until tonight. And well, the universe seems to have had other plans.

“No,” he says. Simple.

“I couldn’t sleep. It was too hot and I was too alone. My house felt too small. Had to get out. I didn’t even realize where I was going until I reached the gas station.” You pull out another can from the pack and flip up the tab.

If you’re being honest with yourself, it tastes terrible. Like a Coke gone wrong. But it also tastes like nights up here with Javi. You don’t think a single time you came up you didn’t at least share a can. You used to each have an emergency case in the trunks of your cars. Even when you came up to drink beer and dance and tell each other about the things going on, there was always a can of soda. 

“Guess I had a feeling. I needed to get out,” you continue.” Tonight was just the night where I finally let myself need this. Didn’t even know you were back.”

“Only got back a few hours ago.”

No. A few hours ago? He woke up yesterday in Colombia and was now sitting here at 3am on a rock hanging over the desert with you?

“What?” you ask. “And this is the first place you went?”

“I dropped off my things with my dad.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Then yeah. First place I guess.”

He comes back and the first place he goes is here? What does that even mean?

He’s facing you now and you grin and raise your eyebrows. “Why?”

“Guess I had a feeling,” he mocks back. 

“Why up here. Why this first?” You’re not voicing the real question. Why is the first thing something that means you?

He reaches over, grabbing the bag of jerky and pulling out a piece. He puts it in his mouth and rips off a chunk. You know what he’s like when he doesn’t want to answer a question he knows the response to.

You stare back out and watch a car cross the desert. Then another. You lie back down, staring up at the stars again. And Javi still says nothing. 

“Maybe there’s a parallel universe out there where everything���s the same but we can both end up here but on different nights and not find each other.”

He doesn’t say anything but you can see him tilting up his head.

“Or maybe this rock is just a universal constant. Like in every version of Earth, one of us can’t spend a night here without the other. It just isn’t allowed.”

Your favorite thing about the night sky is how out here on a clear night, you can see the milky way, a saturated strip of stars belting across the dome. The fact that it’s so damn big has always scared you. You say as much to Javi.

“I’ve always been scared that we’re so small. That we mean nothing. If best friends can go from being everything to being strangers who avoid each other and don’t notice when the other is watching and the only people that care are the two friends themselves, who’s to say anyone cares about us? Maybe we’re all alone. A little rock flying around a bigger burning rock that somehow bubbled up intelligent life, an intergalactic anomaly... A little sphere that doesn’t care that my life feels pointless, and my life feels pointless because of that.”

“Your life isn’t pointless.”

“Then what is it? Because ever since college I don’t know what I’ve been doing. Stuck in my hometown, in love with all the people who don’t love me back.” It’s the first time for the night you know Javi can’t see you crying. Your voice is stable enough to hide it, and he’s sitting up, looking away from you. “And I guess it’s all fine cause I’m going to exist in this little millisecond on a cosmic scale and no one gives two shits if I live or die.”

“I do.”

“Do you, Javi? Because it didn’t seem like you were ever really looking. I could have disappeared and it would have been all the same.”

He’s quiet again and you think that it’s because on some level he knows you’re right.

“There was another reason I left Lorraine at the altar,” he says. You’re not sure if he’s answered more than one of your damn questions the whole night, only saying things that crop up new ones.

“That girl is amazing. She didn’t deserve to be someone’s second choice.”

“Second choice?” you ask. 

“Yeah,” his voice shakes and you sit up again, realizing that he’s crying.

You reach out to touch his shoulder. “Javi—”

He turns away from you. Then he’s leaning on his far arm, pushing himself up. You grasp at his wrist, hoping he’ll stay. Just long enough to finish this. He pulls out of your grip. And he still hasn’t explained himself.

“Javi,” you breathe out. “Stay? Just tonight. You never have to see me again after this. Please?”

That gets him to stop. “What if I want to see you again?”

You turn around looking up at him. The starlight shines against the longitudinal lines on his cheeks. He looks so much like the kid you grew up with.

You stand up, grabbing his jacket off the ground and handing it to him. You can’t make the same mistake you did when you were 18.

“You don’t have to stay, Javi. I’m sorry. You can go. It doesn’t matter what you meant by second choice. I don’t want to push you. I just, that last night? When we were kids? It was my last chance to tell you something and I didn’t have the guts to say it. And by the time I saw you again, it’d been a few years and you were bringing all the other girls to the pool and I was too scared to even say hello.”

He’s holding the jacket limply in his arms. You’re sure you’ve never looked at Javi in the eyes like this ever before. All those nights and you’ve never looked into his eyes and shared the vulnerability that you do now and seen the same expression staring back at you.

“I love you.” It was so much easier than you had ever imagined. The scary thing was actually not saying the words, but staring into Javi as his face shifted.

It began with shock then awe then admiration, all familiar expressions that you had seen a thousand times before. Then it morphed into something you didn’t know as he dropped the jacket and put a hand in yours, spinning you out so you stood side by side instead of face to face, and led you to the edge of the rock. He let go for a moment and when his hand returned there was a stone in it, which he closed your fingers around.

“Having to wait until now to be with the person I love,” he whispers. You’re confused until he’s winding up and throwing something. His own rock.

Oh.

You look down at the rock in your hand.

“Not telling people you love them before you almost lose them,” you say. Your rock flies even farther.

You’re smiling and you look up at Javi. He’s grinning at you and his arms pull you in, wrapping you up and you return the embrace, pulling him close.

“I love you too.”

You nod against his shoulder and pull away, wanting to really look at him.

And in Javi’s eyes, you can see the reflection of thousands of stars, shining bright and big and far away, all contained within the beautiful dark you’ve looked into for what feels like your entire life, and you can now call it home. 

-o-o-o-o-

taglist; @pascalisthepunkest​ @turquiosenights @el-lizzie​ @sparrows-books​ @dxxkxx​ @opheliaelysia​ @trashbin2​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @letaliabane​ @awesomefandomsunited​

[howltothemxxn]

[Maximillian Christopher Nichols] is [21] years old [male] [bisexual] , [werewolf] who is  working to [get everyone home] and is played by [Cody Christian]. They are [conscientious, extroverted, protective] but also tend to be [tempermental, rebellious, self-destructive]

HISTORY

Max was born Maximillian Chrisopher Nichols, his twin sister Mackenzie being born a solid ten minutes later. Something he has never let her forget. Unbeknownst to any of them Max wasn’t actually born to Tara and Nic Nichols, after Tara gave birth to a set of twins December 15th 2010 they were whisked away to be weighed and cleaned up, during that time Max was unknowingly switched with another baby boy born that same day.

Max’s lineage is unknown to him, but his birth mother was a witch. Which means some day he may or may not accidentally tap into that side of him.

When Hunter was adopted he and Max were thick as thieves from day one, where Max and Mac went, Hunter was sure to follow.

-

Max met Hailie in high school becoming fast friends with her, things just kept progressing until they were dating. Their daughter Luna was conceived when he was 19 and was born after he turned 20, born on Christmas Eve. 

Only two weeks after her birth though, Max after already losing his father, he went through another tragedy. This one somehow so much worse. 

He doesn’t remember what they were doing or where they were even going, he remembers saying something to Hunter about his seatbelt, knowing him he’d probably cracked some dumb joke about putting his seatbelt on before Max made him regret it. 

What he should have been doing is paying better attention to the road, his eyes should never have drifted to the rearview mirror, locking eyes with his brother as he did so. Max had had one hand on the wheel, his other on Hailie’s thigh, rubbing it slowly as she reached for his hand. 

Then suddenly Hailie had screamed and when Max looked back at the road that’s when he saw the deer. 

After all that everything was a blur, he remembers slamming on the breaks, ripping his hand away from Hailie and grabbing the steering wheel like his life depended on it. 

When Max’s eyes opened he could see Hailie right beside him, tears pouring down her face as she stared back at him with wide eyes, blood was running from her hairline, smeared across her eyebrow and cheekbone as if she’d started to wipe it away. 

He caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview, blood dripping down his own face. When he realized the backseat was empty he noticed that the windshield was shattered. 

Max can remember with almost perfect clarity that the car had been sideways on the road then and when he looked out the window he could see his brother, sprawled out on the ground. 

Only when Max finally got to him did he realize that he was gone, having more than likely died on impact. 

With shaking hands he had cupped his brother’s face, begging him to wake up. That’s when the pain had started. The shift was beyond his control, he knew that taking a life came with a price, he’d trigger his gene and then on the full moon he would shift for the very first time. It would be painful and he wouldn’t have control over himself. 

He tried to warn Hailie, begged her to run. He isn’t sure if she just didn’t understand or was to scared to leave him. 

Max wishes she had ran. 

He could live to be thousands of years old for whatever reason and the memory of Hailie’s face as he’d lunged at her would never leave him, he would close his eyes and relive that moment every night as he lay in bed trying to sleep. Her scream on a constant loop, repeating in his head. 

As a wolf he’d ran all night, searching, always searching. On alert. 

Nothing was really the same after that, Max was different, he felt darker, like a part of his soul had been taken from him that day. He’d lost a part of him and he could never get it back. With his brother and the love of his life dead, his family a constant reminder of what he’d done. He saw it every time they looked at him, or even when they wouldn’t look at him. 

He had killed his brother, had mauled Hailie to death. He’d done that. 

Getting himself checked into an Asylum seemed like a good idea, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t focus on anything but the memories of his brothers mangled body, his bruised and bloodied face. The way Hailie didn’t even look human anymore. 

Max needed help, so he got checked in and that’s where he stayed for nine months until he was released. 

Even once he was moderately better than he was before he still had trouble processing it all, it was hard to get used to things. 

The last time he’d seen his daughter she’d only been two weeks old, once he was back home she was nine and a half months. Adjusting to that was hard, she didn’t recognize him and cried more when he held him versus when no one held her at all. It was like he was a stranger to her. 

Things only got worse when he found out that his mom had no plans to let him take her either, he supposed it made sense, he’d been gone for the first nine months of her life really, and he’d killed her mother. Maybe it would be better if his mom just raised and took care of her. 

So he’d let his mother do that, instead he focused on his own mental health and his dog, trying to get through the bad thoughts a day at a time. 

Then that freak storm happened and a sink hole had opened up and swallowed everything in sight. Now that he’s in Avalon he can only take a breath, try and clear his head, and figure out a way to get back home. 

If home even exists anymore.

PERSONALITY

He’s been described as the sunshine child more than once, always happy and smiling, even when he would suddenly get a temper he would go right back to smiling afterwards.

He can be moody, having his moments of frustration and anger, always venting healthily to his family.

HEADCANONS / OTHER FACTS

After killing his girlfriend it changed him for the worst, brought out his more aggressive nature that he’d tried to tamper down.

He can’t look at himself in the mirror or even look his family in the eye much anymore after the accident.

Hunter is one of his favorite siblings, second (if that) to Mac, they’re commonly referred to as the triplets despite being born a year apart since Hunter shares a birthday with the twins.

He and his brother Hunter share a dog, a Belgian Malinois that they’ve had since she was a pup.

[katfett]

A/Ns: So originally I posted this as a Finan/TLK fic but just had no real drive to keep it going as that then I was like, this would actually be amazing as a Hvitserk one where it challenges his beliefs, loyalties, etc so I tweaked it and here we are! It definitely won’t be updated as much as others but it is a start!

TAGLIST: @bloooferladyy @revolution-starter @surewhyynot @punkrocknpearls

SUMMARY: Hitting someone with one’s car was not on on the top of Niamh’s to do list. Hitting a ninth century viking warrior with one’s car? Further down said list. It just wasn’t a good day for Niamh or Hvitserk.

CHAPTER ONE

The light was blinding. The crack of thunder was the only sound Hvitserk heard amid the battle. Ubbe was off to his left one moment, gone the next. Blackness flooded his vision. Panic settled into Hvitserk’s whole being as time seemed to falter; a heavy weight pressed him down, suffocating him. He tried to call out for Ubbe, Bjorn, anyone but nothing escaped. He wanted to run, tried to but it was no use. His body was frozen, trapped in such a never-ending sea of black.

A splash upon his cheek – wet and ice cold against his warm skin. He twitched in reaction, fingers clenching around his axe as another splash followed the second. With a heavy groan he rolled his head to the side as his eyes fluttered open.

It was still raining, that was a good sign he thought. He heard a rumble of thunder overhead, and the rain falling but no sounds of battle. He couldn’t hear the screams, the shouts, the sing of steel clashing against wood and steel. Confused, he lifted his head only for a sharp pain to spike up his neck. He curled over onto his side, clutching tightly to his sword and neck.

The forest was dense and overgrown around him, what he could see of it anyway. Lifting his head slowly, dark eyes searching wildly for his companions.

Panic seized him for the second time that night. He was alone. There were no bodies, there was no blood. Alone in an unknown place, Odin only knew what was going on. He just hoped they were alright.

Rolling onto his stomach, Hvitserk slowly pushed himself to his feet, almost slipping on the muddy ground beneath his feet. He needed to find camp, he needed to find something that was familiar to him.

He swore under his breath, clutching his axe tight to him as he tried to shake the light headedness overcoming him.

He just had to keep pushing on; move forward. If he found a town, he could find his bearings. He couldn’t be too far. Whatever trickster was playing with him tonight hadn’t claimed him yet, and Hvitserk would do everything in his power to survive this.

He’d survived worse he tried to reason.

Using the heavy growth and trees to keep himself upright, Hvitserk picked a direction and marched. He slipped a few times, he nearly knocked himself out with low hanging branches. The storm didn’t let up and with no moon or torch light, Hvitserk could barely see beyond his nose.

He bit out a curse here and there, trying not to question Odin had decided to upend him in the middle of battle. He just needed to find a town, a camp, anything.

***

Niamh squinted. The windscreen wipers were swinging back and forth on the highest setting possible; trying to chuck the downpour out of her path. Rinse and repeat. It was near impossible to see beyond into the darkness. She swore. She’d not intended to be so late but with home so close she wanted to get there after being away for a month.

Any other time Niamh would’ve enjoyed the night drive in the rain; the sound of the rain on the roof of the car would normally have a calming effect on her, but not tonight. She was already twenty something under the speed limit to make sure if she needed to stop suddenly, she could.

Driving the back tonight may not have been the best idea. She hadn’t had a lot of good ideas recently. She reached out and hit the dial to skip the song that was playing, a little restless that she still couldn’t see well beyond the windscreen.

Every so often she would hum along with the song and it soothed her restlessness for a little while. Then she would remember Seamus. She hoped wherever he was, he found some measure of peace. Two years fighting a losing battle to aggressive lung cancer and her stepfather had finally given in. He was the last of her family, he’d been so strong for so long.

A tight pain in her chest made her rubbed over her heart. For so long he’d been the only constant, the anchor she’d needed to make it through all the rougher years. Now he was gone. She wanted to say she was happy he no longer suffered the pain he’d so long endured, but the truth was, she hated that he wasn’t there anymore.

Thinking back over the last month, Niamh wondered whether she’d done enough. Putting her job on hold wasn’t a question, the time off had been good. She’d moved into his small London flat for the last few weeks. She’d stayed there to finalise what she could, have the funeral and now she was heading back to Aylsham.

The small village south of Liverpool had been her home for the better part of the last ten years. After a month away though it was odd to be coming home, alone. She wouldn’t be ringing anyone to tell them she’d arrived safely. Niamh felt her chest ache a little again and sighed heavily.

Niamh glanced out her side mirror, unable to see anything behind her but the darkest night.

***

Blood spilled down his hand, he tried to shake the feeling back and ease the trembling, but it wouldn’t work. Heart pounding fiercely in his chest and breath escaping in short, harsh pants he limped his way through the uneven terrain, sliding across the wet ground. He had to keep moving. His boots and his clothes soaked.

He trudged on, the cut in his side ached. He hadn’t noticed he was bleeding at first. The ache had come first. He’d been wounded enough throughout the years to recognise the sensation.

Hvitserk cursed under his breath. He could scare breathe deep enough to catch his breath. He didn’t know how long he’d been moving, only that his panic was returning. If he didn’t find somewhere soon, he’d collapse on the forest floor and bleed out.

Deep in his thoughts, Hvitserk failed to notice the way the trees began to thin out. When he did, he paused, leaning against a tree for a moment. He clutched at the pendant about his neck.

A cough wracked his body and he groaned as the pain in his side flared. Where was Ubbe? Where was Sigurd, and Ivar? What in all that is holy happened to him? Where was he?

With a sharp grunt, Hvitserk pushed himself from the tree and stepped the remaining few feet out onto what he thought was a path. In the dark he couldn’t see much, the path itself was strange. With a furrowed brow, Hvitserk tried to scuff at the earth. It didn’t move. Without any light, he couldn’t make out a lot. The rain beat down on his head as he looked skywards for a second, letting the rain wash over his dirt ridden features as he steadied himself for a few moments; breathing as deep as he could.

The forest stretched on again on the opposite side ahead of him. He turned a little and tried to look as far down the strange path as he could. Which way did he go? Without knowing what direction to travel, he could end up anywhere.

“Damn.”

He heard a noise behind him, movement of something down the path coming up at great speed. Turning, Hvitserk was blinded for the second time in less than a day only instead of being winded and dazed his entire world went dark as something ploughed into him.

***

The silence in the car was broken sharply as Niamh’s phone began to ring. She jumped, reaching across to the passenger seat to grab it. Not looking, she fumbled and knocked it down onto the floor.

“Fuck.” Niamh took her foot off the accelerator, swearing as she fumbled for her phone, glancing up every second or so to make sure she wasn’t going off the road. Who could honestly be calling her at this time of the night? Her fingers wrapped around her phone and she straightened herself up.

The phone stopped ringing as she glanced at the caller ID and then back at the road.

Then it happened.

Her car clipped something and knocked her off course. She hit the brakes; heart racing a thousand miles a minute as the car screeched to a stop.

She swore. She knew better.

What had she hit? Niamh was panting harshly, panicking.

“Please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead,” she whispered as she unbuckled herself and fumbled at the door. She shoved it open and climbed out. She raced to the back of the car and stopped short as she came upon her poor victim; hand covering her mouth as she gasped.

There, lying crumpled on his side, was a man. She’d hit a person.

Dear god, she’d hit a person.

Her hands trembled and her legs lost all ability to hold her up and she collapsed to the ground beside the unconscious man. It felt like it took hours to shake herself enough to crawl across to the man. Her brain was buzzing as she tried to think of what to do.

Check to make sure he’s alive.

In her shocked and terrified state, her hands trembled as she reached out to the man. Her fingers closed around leather. As though it jolted her back into herself, Niamh frowned. Leather? She didn’t roll him onto his back, worried she might hurt him some more, or exacerbate whatever injuries he might have.

She realised then he was wearing some sort of leather, cloth and fur. What on earth was he wearing?

Check to make sure he’s alive. Niamh swore at herself, she reached up to his neck, trying to find his pulse.

She held her breath as she waited for any sign that he was alive. She let out the breath when she felt a faint pulse, thank god he wasn’t dead.

Niamh inched a little closer, trying to get a look at his face in the rain. What damage has she done to him? A quick scan showed no obvious sign, no twisted limbs, but Niamh still couldn’t get over the clothing. It looked like he’d stepped out of a costume movie. Where on earth had he come from?

Glancing out to the forest through the harsh rain, Niamh sighed. Had they been filming something nearby? She needed to get help. Trying to find a film set would be too hard, she knew there was a late-night clinic in town, if she could get him there in time, he might stand a chance.

Niamh leaned over him and jumped back a little seeing the axe laying by his hand. She reached out to touch it when suddenly a hand snatched at her wrist. She cried out and tried to yank her hand free but the axe that had been laying on the ground was now at her throat.

She froze as she looked down. The man was awake and staring at her with unfocused eyes. Niamh felt a dreadful wave of fear creep along her spine as she stared back at the man, wincing as the axe, which she now knew to be real and sharp, bit into her throat.

“I- I’m sorry,” she stammered out. “I- I didn’t mean to hit you.”

She watched his brows come together. He tried to move, to sit up, but he clutched at his side, the grip on the axe slipping. As quickly as he gained consciousness, he went out again. Niamh let out the breath she’d been holding as he did. Least he couldn’t hold the axe on her.

Well, she hadn’t killed him. Niamh looked at her car and then back to the man. She needed to get him into the backseat. Reaching out, she plucked up the axe and scrambled to her feet, reaching the back door, she jerked it open and tossed the weapon onto the floor.

Now to move him. Niamh came down by his head, grateful he’d at least fallen back unconscious on his back. Crouching down she managed to get her arms under his shoulders and arms and groaned as she tried to lift him even just a little to get him to the car.

She tried to be careful with him, worried she might hurt him more doing this, but not able to wait out here for an ambulance Niamh huffed and wheezed as she dragged the downright heavy man to the car. She wasn’t weak but the dead weight of him was a lot.

She managed to scoot herself into the backseat, pulling him across it as she shuffled back across the seat. She collapsed against the other back door and let out a sharp breath. In the dim light of the car, Niamh was surprised by the absolute mess across her lap.

Long, dirty blonde hair was braided back from his face, tied into a knot at the back of his head, matching the slight stubble across his jaw. He was covered in dirt and mud but under it he looked young. Niamh glanced down along his body. The clothing looked real. Whoever had made it was talented. There she saw the darker patch down on his side. He had been bleeding. Niamh wasn’t an expert, but it was too high for where she’d hit him, had he already been injured?

Still certain she had accidentally hit someone on a film set, maybe an extra, Niamh managed to climb out from beneath the large man, and he was large. He had to be a good a head taller than her, six foot and he was solid muscle.

Niamh finally shut the back door of the car after pushing his feet in. She leaned her head against the window for a second, breathing heavily. She was soaking wet, her hair was sticking to her skin, her clothes were drenched but she’d managed to get him into the car.

She climbed into the driver’s seat and slowly shut the door. Numbly she turned the ignition and put the car in drive. With a shaky breath, she headed off down the road.

***

The parking lot of the late-night clinic was empty as Niamh pulled in. Niamh was quiet as she unbuckled herself. Her passenger hadn’t moved in the twenty minutes it’d taken her to get into town. She felt like it should’ve been a small mercy, both for him and her but Niamh wanted to know who she’d hit, wanted to apologise a hundred times over for foolishly grabbing at her phone when she should’ve been more careful.

Shakily, she got her door open, grateful the rain has eased to a light sleet as she climbed out and headed for the entrance. The doors slid open, and she saw the nurse, someone she knew, behind the desk look up at her as she entered. She must’ve looked dreadful. Drenched and like a drowned rat and shaking.

“Niamh, you look dreadful, what happened?”

God, how did she start explaining this?

Niamh nodded a little. “I- I ah, hit someone out on one of the back roads. I’ve got him in my car, he is banged up and he’s bleeding on his side. I- I didn’t know what else to do. I’m sorry.”

The nurse, Ellen, quickly jumped into action startling Niamh a little. It felt like a blur as the nurse came rushing round and calling out for a hand. They directed Niamh to sit down in one of the chairs and she watched as they headed out to her car with a stretcher.

The reality of it all crashed down on her. She’d hit someone with her car. She’d nearly killed someone. He could still die. Niamh felt like crying as she buried her head in her hands. Please don’t let him die.

***

Niamh sat with a blanket round her as she stared at the police officer across from her. She felt a sick lump in her throat and hollowness in her belly. The officer was patient, even after seeming to doubt her recount of what happened. When Ellen had said she’d called them, Niamh had simply nodded and waited. She couldn’t do much else. She knew bringing him to the clinic meant she’d need to face the consequences.

She had told the officer everything, even handed over the sword and told him she wasn’t sure who he was, where he was from and that she’d made a mistake.

“You didn’t find any I.D. on him?”

Niamh glanced up from her lap. “No, I didn’t.”

The police nodded, writing it down. “The nurse couldn’t find anything on him either, most they found were a few odd coins, some rings and the like. We’re trying to find if anyone has put out a missing person report matching his description.”

Niamh nodded. “What will happen now?”

The officer watched her for a moment. “He’s alive, the doctor said he had a laceration on his side which wasn’t caused by your car. He has some bruising on his ribs, they’re uncertain if your car did that given the shape he was in when you clipped him. Until he wakes up, there isn’t much we can do Niamh. He might want to press charges, that’s his right.”

She nodded mutely. “I know.”

The officer tapped his pen on the arm of the chair and stood. Niamh followed suit. “Ellen knows to contact us when he wakes up.”

Niamh watched him leave before she looked down the hall. They’d wheeled him into the third room.

“Niamh,” Ellen said, startling her a little. “Try and get some rest. He’ll be asleep for a while.”

“Can I go sit with him?” She knew it was an odd request. No one knew who he was, where he was from, nothing. She just didn’t want to see in the waiting room any longer. It’d been dark and raining when he’d regained consciousness, but it didn’t stop Niamh from seeing the sheer panic in his face. She’d done that to him.

Ellen gave her a small jerk of her head to say go on. Thankfully, knowing Ellen met Niamh didn’t have to worry too much about the oddness of her request. She gently opened the door of the room and stepped inside.

Whoever he was lay on the bed in the room, breathing evenly as he slept. Niamh took the seat by the door and curled up, wrapping the blanket around her legs as she drew them to her chest. Ellen had cleaned him up a little she noticed.

His face had a slight tan. He was covered in a gown and the blankets. She noticed his arms were scarred even from where she sat. Hadn’t they been special effects from the movie set? Her brows knitted together in confusion.

“Who are you?” she whispered into the space between them. It didn’t take long before the shock turned into exhaustion and Niamh fell asleep curled up on the chair by the door.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans Are Space Orcs, “ER”

Short story for Krill this morning. Hope you guys enjoy. 

Dr. Krill was back on Earth. He had no idea why he always seemed to end up in this insane hellscape, but here he was…. again. only the other day he had been caught out in an electrical storm while trying to commute his way to work, which he hadn’t particularly appreciated, especially not when massive balls of frozen ice came pelting from the sky with enough power to tear open skin.

Even the humans had been running for cover, and that was saying something.

He would very much have preferred a job where he wasn’t in constant danger of getting murdered by the elements on a regular basis.

But this was earth, one day he could be enjoying the sun, the next he was risking heat death, the next he was almost blown away by the wind, and the day after that he was almost whisked away by minor flooding.

Of course, it was either walking to work or taking public transit which was probably even more dangerous considering that it had humans on board. Humans who were half asleep, humans who were strung out on drugs, humans with children, humans with dangerous pets. Then of course there were the more than mildly xenophobic humans, who were, somehow, under the impression that Krill was there to still earthling jobs, which was not the case at all considering that he had volunteered him time for free.

Krill had no need of monetary compensation, to him, the work was the reward.

He leaned something new every day.

And now, with his current stint working in a human hospital, he was becoming even more acquainted with humanity… not entirely sure if that was in a good way or not.

OF course, Krill more than missed the simple life aboard the harbinger where most humans were relatively educated and competent, where most stupid injuries came about by overly idiotic actions rather than ignorance -- a point could be argued to which one of those things was worse, but, for the moment, Krill was under the impression that willful idiocy was still better than ignorance because at least they knew why they were stupid, and generally openly admitted it to krill whereas working with the general populace forced him to have to be patient and understanding towards people who just didn’t know any better.

Apparently telling people they are stupid to their faces is seen as off-color in the human medical world even though that is probably exactly what some of the people needed to hear.

Again, he found himself wishing for the harbinger, and for the return of the captain – the biggest idiot of them all.

He idly wondered how he was doing on his little trip across the universe.

He wondered how Sunny was doing exploring the human world on her own two feet/

He wished he knew when they would be back together.

The UNSC had given them extended shore leave, but they had never specified how long it was going to be seeming to hint that it was contingent on how the captain felt. Well Krill was under the impression the captain needed to get his ass back here so krill would stop having to pull things out of people’s butts.

 Speaking of pulling things out of people’s butts’ he was on ER rotation today. He found that the ER could be the most interesting, or the most infuriating part of a hospital. Just the other day he had led the surgical team that reattached someone’s arm, but then the day before that he had been in the ER to inform a woman that yes your shortness of breath likely comes from the run you just went on after years of never having exercised.

He took his clipboard and walked into the human waiting room.

He could write a paper on what sort of things it was important for a medical professional to keep in mind when treating humans. But here was an example of his typical day.

·         Isn’t this the second time I have seen little Jimmy in here for sticking something up his nose? I understand that he really loves playing with those toys, but you have to understand there is a reason the label says five and up. Yes, it would probably be best if you did not allow him around things he could get stuck in his face.

·         Your pregnant. Yes of course I am sure. I can do a blood test if you like. I know you said you are not sexually active, but I have looked at this blood test twice and a stick test twice and it says you are pregnant. Well what do you consider sexually active…. mmhmmm…. Mmmhmmm…. well I think it is probably my job to inform you that it is still sex even if the woman is on top.

·         You just…. fell on it huh? So, you were doing household chores…. Naked…. And you just so happened to slip and as you were slipping this item was magically vacuumed up into your colon. Mmmmm hmmm, quick question where was this potato located for you to have fallen on it like that? Well no sir, I am afraid that we probably won’t be able to get it out manually you are going to need a gastrointestinal specialist for that.

·         Yes sir, your chest pain probably has something to do with all the cocaine you have been snorting. Cocaine tends to do that to people.

·         Ok you are a diabetic trying to control your blood sugar. Ok, I am glad to hear that you have worked on toning down your sugar consumption, that’s good, but I am still very concerned about your sugar levels. This is far to high and I am extremely concerned. Let’s go through your diet and see what you have been eating. Have you cut back on soft drinks? Yes, and now you drink a lot of fruit juice…. ahh… I see. Well ma’am fruit juice just so happens to contain a lot of sugar which might be why your blood sugar is so high. Might I suggest drinking some water.

·         Ah finally, a real emergency. Yes, your grandmother’s breathing problems worry me greatly. Let’s get her back in to do an EKG, make sure nothing is gong on with her heart. I am glad you brought her in when you did.

·         Yes, little Susie is going to be fine. I am glad she knew how to use her epi-pen, excellent work Susie.

·         No, I don’t care that you have been waiting four hours to se the doctor. Your child has a mild stomach ache, their child is having intermittent seizures. No, I will not be calling the medical director in to see you about this.

·         Well that’s probably why it hurts so much. The condom is not supposed to cover the balls too.

·         No matter how much you deny your use of opiates, when you came in here you weren’t breathing and when I gave you Narcan you started breathing again, so I know where my vote is. Please try not to deny these things to your medical professional next time. It is not my job to call the cops. No, I am not going to rat you out. Yes, you could die if you don’t tell me about past drug use no matter what it is.

·         You got a WHAT in your WHERE. Why would you stick a toothpick in there? No sir generally most people are not ailed with an itchy urethra, in fact I am pretty sure that is not a thing. Look, I am not judging you sir, but please stop sticking pointy things up into places where they do not belong because you could cause permanent damage.

·         Ouch… now remind me again why you were trying o ride your skateboard down the stairs. And you openly admit that you are not good at skating…. Because you saw a video. I am very glad you know it was a dumb idea because at least I don’t have to say it.

·         Ma’am this says analgesic not anal-gesic, the pills are taken orally not as a suppository.

·         You have been bleeding once a month for ten years and you are just now coming in about that? I am sorry, but how old are you again. Yes, ma’am this is very normal, here let me get you a pamphlet to read, and if you have any questions feel free to ask one of the nurses.

·         So you don’t have any medical history. Well are you taking any medications. That sure is a lot of medications for someone who does not have any medical history. This one looks like it is for high blood pressure. Sir just because the medication is helping you manage your high blood pressure does not meant that your high blood pressure is cured.

·         When I say clear liquids that does not include vodka

·         I know vodka does have alcohol in it, but pouring it on your open soar sure did not help anything, and now you are probably going to need a plastic surgeon to fix this.

·         No ma’am you have to put ear drops in both ears. No, the ears are not connected. Yes, your eardrums and you know… your brain are kind of in the way. No there is not a tube that just goes straight through.

·         Please stop licking your wound.

·         Um no, those bumps on your tongue are not cancer…. They are taste buds.

·         Yes, that it a uvula…. Yes, it is supposed to be there.

·         What made you think sticking ice cubes up your anus would help with your fever. Well it will not and now you have frost bite in your rectum.

·         So it was the smell that got you to come in and not the…. Maggots?

 Krill groaned in relief as he went to clock out.

‘Tough day?” Someone asked

“I think something needs to be done about medical education on your planet.”

The human laughs, “We have been trying for more than two thousand years. Good lucky making it any better than it already is.”

 Please, Adam finish your journey of self-discovery soon because if I have to explain how to use a condom one more time, I might just loose it.