#so every time I get back into rise I find myself carting once or twice (which has happened ONCE in world and I’ve beaten all of base game +

[glacierbash]

I am beaming my mh rise character into your brain. Observe her.

[spenciegoob]

Who Needs Luck?

A/N: hi! I solely wrote this because of my 3 recent visits to NY (no, I sadly did not meet mgg)... plus i’ve been going there my whole life.. this is becoming the longest authors note, but as i’m writing I just want to say the people who work at food trucks in nyc are the nicest people ever, ask them about their day (AND TIP OMG PLS)

Summary: Reader invites Spencer to go to New York City with her where he finally sees the beauty right in front of him.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff!

Content Warnings: reader can’t drive very well (I apologize if this is a callout post), slight road rage, language

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4K

____

I never considered myself a lucky man. Life had proven time and time again that no matter how many four leaf clovers I set out to search for, how many pennies on the ground faced heads up I stumbled across, luck was never on my side. I’ve learned to live with it, accepted my fate as the world’s smartest punching bag long before I was even in college.

But then I met her, and as cheesy as it sounds, I didn’t need luck that morning.

The second I woke up, the universe seemed to have it out for me specifically. I swung my legs over my bed, and in my half asleep daze stepped on my glasses, successfully breaking them. Unable to see on my short trip to the bathroom, I stubbed my toe… twice. Once I finally finished my morning routine more methodically, I walked out of my apartment only to bump into a stranger, sending the coffee she was holding all the both of us.

I had tried to apologize so many times, cutting my words short when they didn’t feel right. I had gotten through a series of “I’m, uh, oh, I, you,” before her smile interrupted my thought process, leaving me awestruck instead.

“That’s okay, but you owe me a coffee now.” She giggled, actually giggled, even with the scorching liquid causing her shirt to stick to her body. “Maybe… together?”

I didn’t hesitate to agree, taking her up on the offer that weekend and never looking back. Even when a loud crash, followed by a quiet, harsh ‘shit’ woke me up in a startle, there was no regret. Maybe just a little concern for my girlfriend who now that my eyes have adjusted to the darkness, can be seen holding her knee on the floor of our bedroom.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to wake you,” she whispered out, grabbing onto the dresser to stand straight again. Once she was on her feet, she came over to sit on the edge of our bed, immediately running her fingers through my hair. If I wasn’t so worried about her knee, I probably would’ve fell asleep again.

“Are you okay?” She giggled at my scratchy morning voice before nodding her head. It’s then I realized how the sun hasn’t even begun to rise, the room still pitchblack. “What are you doing up?”

“Getting ready to go to the city, sleepyhead,” she said as if it was the most obvious answer, but truthfully, it left me with more questions.

“At... 5 am?” I sat up, glancing at the alarm clock three times just to make sure I was reading it right. She may have always been a little strange, but usually at a reasonable hour.

At this, she stood up to continue getting ready for the very early morning. Now I notice why she fell, the piles of clothes leading to the closet had to have at least half of her outfits compiled together.

“Well, yeah. I want to get there before noon.” Even in my perplexed state, I rose from the bed and carefully tiptoed around haphazardly thrown clothes to reach her.

While wrapping my arms around her waist still hidden under my t-shirt, I questioned. “It’s right outside? You have 7 hours.”

She turned to look at me funny as if I wasn’t the one digging through clothes and waking up before dawn to walk literally 5 minutes to my desired location. My eyebrows must have subconsciously furrowed at one point, because she brought her hand up to stroke her thumb on my forehead. Immediately, I felt the tension melt, no longer caring to correct my confusion. She still did it anyway.

“Not DC, silly. New York!” I wish it were untrue, but my heart dropped at her words. She was leaving, going to a city I wasn’t familiar with beyond reading about, solving cases, and memorizing subway maps. Is this how she feels every time I board that jet?

“W-what? You’re just going to New York City?” I inwardly cringed at how desperate and sad I sounded, but I really didn’t want her to leave.

“Mhm,” she mumbled, turning back around to return digging in her closet.

“For how long?” Please change your mind. Please change your mind. Please change you-

Realizing that I was fully awake, she let out a boisterous laugh, allowing the way it bounced off our four little walls to return back to us. It was a sound most treasured. “I was hoping to get back around 9.”

“What?” I leaned back to look at her like she was absolutely preposterous. I mean, she was!

“Roadtrip!”

That’s how I found myself in the passenger seat of her car, no coffee in my hand because I wasn’t allowed until I have “a real cup of coffee.” Whatever the hell that means better happen soon, because as much as I loved watching the way she concentrates on the road in front of her, my eyes were starting to droop.

“It’s going to be another 4 hours. You can sleep, my love.” How she knew me so well, I will never be able to figure out, but I was out before we even made it across state borders.

That however, didn’t last very long. My girlfriend may be short and sweet, but behind the wheel? That’s a different story. The horn to her car is a very familiar sound when I’m jolted awake by a sudden stop.

“Really, asshole? Go!” She yelled, slamming her hand against the top of the steering wheel before looking over at me. “Hey, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to wake you yet. I forgot how awful drivers are here.”

“Where is here exactly?” I questioned, sitting up from my slouched position to find cars practically on top of each other on a road not wide enough for two lanes.

“New Jersey. We’re 10 minutes away.” Wow, I didn’t realize I slept for that long, and I have to admit I’m a little surprised I wasn’t woken up sooner.

“How are we 10 minutes away? It’s at least another 30 to get to the tunnel.” Looking at our surroundings didn’t help me determine our exact location. To the left of us, there were dozens of graffiti murals on the side of what I assumed was another elevated highway. To the right, sidestreets with local businesses ranging from auto repair shops to fast food joints to gyms.

“Nuh uh, stop analyzing mister. You’ll know when we get there.” She waved a finger in my directions, putting a pin in my scrutinization. I pouted right back, successfully playing along to the theme of her scolding me like a 5 year old.

“I don’t like surprises you know.” It was the truth, but her contagious laughter that filled the car made me slightly less disinclined to stop asking questions.

“Oh I know, but trust me, you’ll like this one.” She went to go reach over to grab my hand from where it was resting in my lap, but stopped short and retracted in favor of slamming the horn. “Oh, come on!”

***

“So you drove to a train station... in New Jersey?” I asked while she was… attempting to park the car.

“Well, yeah. I’ve been taking this route since I was a little girl.” Once she finally figured out how to evenly space a two door convertible in a very spacious parking spot, she unbuckled her seatbelt, and was quick to grab her bag from the backseat. “Well, come on mister, we’re going to miss the train.”

To be quite honest, I have never been so lost in my life. I could probably pinpoint our exact location on a map if I wanted to, granted I was given any sort of information, but part of me didn’t want to. Scratch that, all of me didn’t want to, because my entire life has been planned out in front of me before, but right now, I get to be spontaneous with the most beautiful girl on the planet.

“Don’t let go of my hand,” she told me, lacing our fingers together and pulling me forward. “Don’t stop to look around, you will get pushed.”

We made it inside, and if I thought the DC transit system was bustling with people constantly, this place was so much worse. There were hallways left and right, all packed with people in a rush. It seems everybody had some place to be and zero time to get there.

“Upstairs.” We walked up two flights before reaching a platform, buying our tickets and making it just in time for a train to arrive. “I know they come every 8 minutes, but thank god we made this one,” she said as she sat down.

The cart we were in wasn’t too crowded, and once I finally found a map on the wall across from us, I saw that it was a direct ride to the World Trade Center.

“You said you took this train when you were little?”

“Yeah, I went to the city a lot as a kid. This was the easiest, and the cheapest way there.” A small smile played at her lips, obviously the product of some childhood memory. “I used to hop it.”

“Of course you did,” I laughed back with her, thinking about how an innocent looking child would be the first person to get away with sneaking onto the train.

***

“I said it before, I will say it again. Do not let go of my hand.” This time it was more stern, and if I were being honest, I would say that it got me the slightest bit nervous. She must have noticed, she always does, because she continued. “Don’t worry, it just gets congested and I don’t want to lose you.”

She was right about that, it indeed was very congested, but that was okay because she was holding my hand, and I would follow her just about anywhere if it meant she kept looking over her shoulder and smiling when she saw me. Once we made it across the way, and in front of heavy looking glass doors, she turned to me and started walking backwards.

“You okay? This is definitely not off to a great start.” She was wrong, it was off to a perfect start.

“Yeah, I’m okay, but you might want to watch where you’re going,” I said before her back hit the door.

“Please I can get here with my eyes closed.” And then we were outside, and all 5 of my senses were hit immediately. The sun was shining down on us, and before I could complain about not bringing my sunglasses, she handed them to me. My heart fluttered at the innocent act, taking the sunglasses with such gratitude even though she had already moved on to retrieve hers. “Do you smell that?” She asked.

“There are a lot of answers to that question,” I told her, not knowing if she was talking about the smell of the construction happening at the corner, the permanent garbage smell or something entirely different.

“The hotdogs, silly. Come on, there’s nothing like ‘em.” This time, I laced our fingers together, not because I was scared of losing her, I was, but I just really wanted to be closer to her. She didn’t mind, in fact, she let out a content hum and leaned her head on my arm as we walked to the stand.

“Can I get four hotdogs with sauerkraut and two grape sodas,” she asked the vendor, who politely nodded before moving on to prepare our food.

“You’re going to have a heart attack by 35,” I said as I nudged her with my shoulder. She gave me a small push back before answering.

“Is that a doctor’s diagnosis?” She asked as she took our now ready food into her hands, after paying the man before I even had time to blink. I just grabbed the two cans of soda and followed her where she was making a beeline for a park bench. “Watch out for skaters.”

“Yes, it is indeed a doctor's diagnosis.” I unwrapped one of the hotdogs before taking a bite. I closed my eyes and let out a content hum. “It may be a little worth it.”

“Exactly.” We sat there quietly, enjoying the warm weather and sounds of wheels against pavement. At one point, she rested her head against my shoulder, and I am convinced wherever she went would be Heaven.

***

“Are your eyes closed?” We found ourselves with both our hands interlocked, my eyes closed while she walked backwards. I gave an ‘mhm’ before she continued. “We’re here, just keep them closed, and…” her words trailed off. “Okay open.”

I opened my eyes to her holding her arms out in the middle of the largest bookstore I’ve ever seen. “Surprise!” My eyes were bouncing everywhere. It wasn’t too crowded, the large stairwell across the store catching my eye first. There were bookshelves tens of feet high, all loaded with different genres and authors. To the right of us, tiny knick knacks and pins and socks. It was beautiful.

“Wow,” I whispered out, still stuck in my place admiring our surroundings. She was beaming up at me, a hint of pride at her successfulness to drag me 6 hours away to the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.

“The Strand has always been my favorite place in the city. Come on, let’s go explore.” She grabbed my hands again, pulling me deeper into the store towards a shelf labeled adult fiction.

***

Six books, three pairs of socks and a postcard later, we were back on the busy streets of New York, aimlessly walking and admiring the tall buildings and different attractions. Well she was, I was admiring the way she was looking around like it was her first time here. Maybe I should have been paying more attention to our surroundings, but no amount of skyscrapers or fountains could possibly ever match up to her level of beauty. 

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” I asked randomly, startling her into jumping a tiny bit before giggling. She stopped us, turning to face me fully before reaching up to grab my face in her hands.

“Once or twice.” The kiss we shared on the New York streets were no different than the ones before, but this time, it felt like a silent promise. A passing between two lovers that no matter where we are, our love is the most beautiful thing there is. “I love you too, dork.”

___

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[impossible-rat-babies]

our reflections 

wayhaven chronicles | nb!detective x mason | 3.1k words | hurt/comfort | cw: blood & violence | mostly under the cut!

read on ao3

--

Feet stumbling over each other, Pollux’s shoulder slams into the door and he curses loudly. Pain radiates down his arm and into his ribs, scattering across his shoulder blades and ending at the headache welling across his scalp. Breath catching, pain making his diaphragm stutter but he knows this well. Pause, close his eyes, lean against the door, and take a few deep breaths to ease the tightness.

He licks his lips, freshly wet with new blood sliding from his nostrils and he winces; he hopes it isn’t broken, goddamn it. He doesn’t fancy a trip to Doctor Turner this late and end up scolded like he’s fifteen again and got into yet another fight after school. Or worse, getting carted off to the Agency so he can get scolded like he’s just a child who can’t take care of himself. Not to mention everyone would hover and Rebecca would throw a fit over what happened and he’s not at all in the right mind to deal with her right now.

He yanks his keys out of the door lock despite the pain spiking through his hands and wrists and he dumps them on his little console table. He flexes his hands, clenching them into fists and relaxing them. His usual joints pop and crackle, but none of his fingers feel broken or dislocated. The scabs across his knuckles flex and crack, new blood seeping through along with fresh pain to batter against his senses.

He gently kicks the door shut and leans against the table, closing his eyes once more. The pain is still fresh in his shoulders and down across his ribs and he reaches under his cardigan and he feels across his torso. Pressing against the bones and there’s no sharpness, just the familiar ache of bruises. Not cracked thankfully. Still, it hurts like hell and he sucks in a sharp breath that burns his nose. He wipes away the hot fresh blood on his sleeve, looking down at the dark streak staining the fabric.

There’s blood that isn’t his own splattered across his shirt, staining under his nails, in the cracks of his callouses. Thought it would be worse, all things considered. 

Sure, he’d gotten the wind knocked out of him, but he’s been through worse and still come back swinging. There’ll be new dents in his car come the morning and maybe some blood to wash off when he clambers out of bed, but that’s for tomorrow Pollux to worry about. Today Pollux would be more than happy to sleep for the next week and a half and ignore everything else outside of his apartment. 

Maybe he will.

He wrangles himself out of his cardigan, shaking his arm from the offending sleeve and it lands on the floor in a heap that he kicks to the side. Works his shoes off too, abandoning them, shuffling past the tiny entryway and into his living room. Groping blindly through the dark for his bedroom door, he wishes he’d left a lamp on.

“Pollux?”

A voice in the dark and he turns sharply, panic seizing his chest, eyes searching through the dark. His hands clench into tight fists that break the fresh scabs, heart racing in his chest.

“Hey sweetheart, it’s just me...”

Soothing—familiarity in that deep voice, recognition in his scrambled brain. A sharp sudden light from a lamp clicking on and Pollux winces, holding up his hand to block it.

“Fucking hell,” he peers out from behind the bright light and Mason is standing there, the butt of a cigarette hanging from his lips. “Should’ve said something sooner, you asshole...” He huffs, voice hoarse and he clears his throat. There’s the taste of blood on the back of his tongue and he swallows.

“Don’t blame me. I just got down from the roof when you hobbled in.”

Mason snips and Pollux snorts despite the pain. In the dim yellow light he spots the balcony door still open, curtains fluttering in the dull breeze. Of course he used the fire escape instead of the normal people stairs up to the roof.

“Wait, you were hiding around my apartment building?” Pollux asks, rattling his brain for whomever is supposed to be on watch with him tonight and he could’ve sworn they were past this shit. At least Pollux thought since he’d been extraordinarily clear with Ava how he felt on the matter. Quite loud about it too if his memory served right.

Pleas on deaf ears he supposes.

“Better question,” Mason counters, making his way through his living room and closer to him. “You look like utter shit.”

If Pollux didn’t know better, he’d say there’s a biting edge of concern to his tone, grey eyes flickering in the dull light reflected off the wall.

“Thanks asshole. Flattery will get you everywhere.” Pollux bites back, lips curling back.

“Why?”

First instinct catches Pollux, lying before he can think not to.

“It’s nothing—“ he quickly shuts his mouth, biting his tongue.

That doesn’t work anymore—not with Mason, not with any of them. They all read him like a book, know his littlest tells for his lies and Pollux hates it--that hate sitting in his stomach, frustration in his curled fists. He’s invested what little dignity the years haven’t stripped from him in his lies and even still, unit bravo spare him no expense.

“I handled it, it’s not as bad as it looks. I’m fine...” Pollux looks away, finding a nice dark corner to stare into. Saying it’s fine is just another way to lie, but he’s past semantics.

“What happened, Pollux?” Mason presses and Pollux shrugs through the pain, crossing his arms over his chest, burying his bruised and bloodied hands in his armpits.

“There’s nothing to say! Nothing happened, I’m fine.”

“Bullshit, what happened, Pollux?”

Pollux licks the backside of his teeth, frustration building like nervous energy in his legs and hands, the little voice in the back of his mind growing louder. Mason steps closer and Pollux pulls back against the wall, pulling his arms in tighter.

(Take one more step, just one more)

“Trappers, okay?” Pollux admits. “They jumped me in the parking lot of the station near my car. Three of four of them--didn’t get a good look.”

The dark corner is his friend, keeping his eyes off of Mason but he still hears the sharp intake of his breath, feels his eyes on him.

(Stop looking at me like that)

“Pollux, you--” Mason cuts himself off, growling low in the back of his throat. “You didn’t think to call us? To call me?”

“No, sorry I was more concerned about getting out of there than sticking around for a stupid phone call.” Pollux spits back, meeting Mason’s glare with one of his own.

“Were you going to call when you got back here? What were you gonna go do?”

“What did it look like I was doing, asshole? I was gonna go to my bathroom and make sure my nose isn’t fucking broken!”

Mason pinches the bridge of his nose and Pollux holds his meager ground, hands stuffed in his armpits clenching down hard.

“And after that?”

“Jesus christ, I was gonna go to sleep! Or I dunno, eat a bowl of cereal and smoke a fucking cigarette!” Pollux spits, grinding his teeth. “I don’t need to tell you all every bit of my life! I can take care of this myself! I don’t need help all the time, I’m not just some stupid human who needs his hand held and told ‘oh boohoo are you okay honey’ whenever things go wrong!”

Pollux mocks, more words bubbling up in his throat but they get clogged on his tongue, too many to say. Maybe they’re excuses, or lies and he wants to say them—wants to take the worst of them and smash them together into the worst he can think of and then shove it in Mason’s face. Make him take a step back, or maybe leave because he can never just ask. He’s asked too many times, begged people over the phone and no one ever listens--like screaming through a glass window.

Talk is cheap and hands say more than their fair share.

“....fucking hopeless.” Mason grumbles to himself and Pollux bunches his fingers tightly in his shirt.

“If you’re gonna talk then shit say it to my face, Mason.” Pollux spits his name and he knows he’s playing chicken with a speeding car—sooner or later he’s going to get hit. 

Mason turns on him, anger drawing his lips into a snarl and frustration tensing his shoulders,

(take one more step, I swear to god) 

“I said...” He starts slow, meeting his grey eyes and there’s a vicious storm in that grey, “you’re fuckin’ hopeless, Pollux.”

“Good.”

Pollux grinds out, voice low. There’s a hundred meanings in that four letter word, all of them stuffed in the five feet between them and Pollux is daring Mason to ask, eyes measuring. Like stepping out into traffic and watching for the inevitable crash in slow motion, breath stalled in aching lungs and his pounding head. 

Expectations falling flat when Mason just breathes hard, fixing him with a stare that says too much.

Speaking has a nasty habit of making things feel too real and Pollux already feels too real right now. His shirt is scratchy against his arms, sweat dried on the back of his neck and he wants to scratch, to rip and pull at his cuticles. Needs to grab his hair and yank, yank, yank—

Tackled from behind, slammed into his car.  Pinned to the door, arms yanked behind his back. Handful of his hair, slamming his head against the bonnet of the car. Once, twice—

kick back hard against the knee, only way out. Bones breaking under his foot, feeling the knee bow back and further back still.

Good.

Trapper screamed, an ear splitting scream. A punch hitting his cheek, head reeling and he hits the hood. World spinning, vomit rising in his mouth, grabbing the Trapper’s shirt. Slam his head into the hood of the car. Once, twice, three times quick with all his strength, metal buckling and crumbling, blood splattering. Trapper falls limp to the ground in a way that can’t be faked.

Blows and blocks stuttering in his head, the fighting caught between too slow and too fast, frames stuttering by.

Turn just in time to avoid the flash of something in another hand, something shining in the orange street light.

Can’t get stabbed, just need to grab the knife. Blinking, blinking, blinking and blinking again.

(grab the knife)

Overhead light swinging wildly, shadows and light making the bars of the cage dance against the walls. Tackled to the ground, foul smelling water soaking in his clothes, wetting his shaved head. Snarling, nails drawing bloodied lines across the face, fingers scrambling for the eyes. Get the eyes, the softest part. Grab and yank, dig his fingers into the supple and squishy—get the eyes, get the eyes--

(Grab the knife, grab the knife, grab the knife, grab)

“Pollux?”

He nearly jumps out of skin, quickly looking up at Mason and he blinks once, and once more.  Mason’s looking at him over his shoulder, phone is pressed to his ear. He wears worry convincingly enough.

“We need to get you back to the agency to take care of this...”

Pollux frantically shakes his head, staring down at the ground as it spins.

“I told you I’m not going. I can take care of it.” He argues, his tongue like a heavy dead fish between his lips, flopping in the sun.

He’s too raw for this right now, the living room too dark, the singular light tearing into his head like a migraine. And the memories too close. He smells the dried blood already caked to the inside of his nose, legs jittery and he needs to go. The living room is both too tight and too much space.

“It’s not asking, it’s Ava ordering.“

“No. Tell Ava to go shove her orders up her fucking ass, I’m not going whether she likes it or not.” He’s trembling, heart racing in his ears.“Whether you like it or not.” 

Pollux looks up at him and Mason’s eyes narrow. Phone still in his hand, call still going and Pollux barely hears Ava demanding to know what’s going on. 

Tough shit, she’ll have to wait.

Mason looks away first and Pollux takes the chance, ducking inside his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Mason’s voice muffled through the door and he picks his way to the bathroom. Slams that door shut too, hoping that it makes even Ava wince through the phone. 

He flips the bathroom light on, wincing as his headache spikes, the dull off white light coloring his tiles a soothing beige. There’s no shadows here, but still he yanks open the shower curtain to make sure before he digs for the first aid kit under the sink.

He doesn’t know if Mason sticks around as he gets to work, stripping off his clothes. They’re splattered and soaked with blood, the fabric stiff and smelling sharp of iron and he heaps them in the bathtub to deal with later.

The standing mirror is both a blessing and a curse, his nakedness painted clearly in the harsh light. His ribs are already turning sickly pale and tinged with purple, the first signs of the rioting of bruising come the morning. There’s other spots littered across his body, a nice purple tinge from the base of his skull to his shoulder blades.

He sinks to the bathroom rug, the tile still leeching the heat of his narrow body away. He takes in the worst of the damage painting his face, examining the curves and plains decorated with bloodied contusions and more sickly grey skin.

There’s a brief flash to countless other bathrooms, some with off green buzzing lights and dirty concrete floors smelling of gasoline and urine. Others with a kaleidoscope of colors and bass thumping so loud it shook the mirrors; all only a distant thrumming, too busy caught up feeling like he was in nothing but a warm bathtub.

He blinks and it’s gone. Sighing out of the corner of his mouth, he fishes his crumpled cigarette carton from out of his pants, shaking one out.

--

It’s a long while before he opens the bathroom door, busted lip stitched up, contusions covered with bandages and butterfly closures clinging to his cheekbone. The pain is dull, water still clinging to the glass and pain medication discarded on the tile counter.

It’s not dark with the blinds open, the moon nearly full and casting long lines that tinge the bedroom with navy blue.

Miraculously, Mason’s there.

Sitting in his laundry chair, hands clasped between his legs, grey eyes traveling up to find his eyes. Ava must’ve told him to stay, or Pollux vainly thinks he wanted to stay.

He takes careful steps through his bedroom until he’s standing in front of him, Mason’s gaze following him the full way--examining. 

There’s a storm raging in his eyes, lips pulled to a thin line and hands clasped tight. It’s not easy to pin point the lines and looks of distress in Mason’s face, but Pollux has poked enough buttons time and time again to know where his face creases.

“Mason?” Pollux murmurs, his name almost a jumble of letters and he creeps closer. Close enough that Mason tentatively reaches out--hesitating for a breath--before he relents and gently pulls him in. Arms wrapping around Pollux’s waist, face pressing against his bare stomach.

Pollux curls his fingers into Mason’s hair, running his fingers across his scalp in long steady soothing motions. He’s quiet as he clings, fingers smoothing down the vertebra of his spine, fingertips skipping over each bone. Pollux leans against him, resting his head in his hair, taking in the heady scent of freshly smoked cigarettes and warm incense. 

(What home smells like, Pollux can’t help but think.)

“I’m sorry...” Pollux mumbles and the silence carries on, Mason unsurprisingly quiet.

He’s got every right to be angry at him, to be frustrated because Pollux knows he does this every time. Like how a cowering dog backed into a corner only knows how to bite the hand that reaches out.

He only knows the push, not the pull--the biting. Tending his broken skin alone and his broken mind in garish bathroom lights or with doctors staring him down from across coffee tables littered with magazines.

He should know better by now, but it always easier said than done. Hands held out in help curl to fists or flatten to slaps far too easily. The words are the worst, spitting and angry and it’s easier to say the worst of others first. Poke at their pain so they don’t uncover his.

Pollux is just catching the shoe before it drops.

“Just...don’t. Not again sweetheart, please.” Mason speaks, pulling his face away and he stares up at Pollux. Face drawn tight and Pollux brushes a stray hair from off of Mason’s cheek, fingers gliding down to his jawline and Mason’s fingers find his, cupping his hand. Turning his palm to press a kiss there. More following, finding his wrist, looping scars reminding him of zip ties and metal chairs and he smothers those thoughts, finding Mason’s grey eyes to get lost in instead.

“I’ll try.” Pollux whispers and that’s all he has to offer, but Mason takes it with a soft nod. 

He takes all he has to offer, all he’s willing to give and never asking for more. Taking the steps along with him, waiting for him to find his words, a piecemeal affection assembled in the broken paths along the way--a puzzle with all the edges sanded off, but still trying to put it all back together.

“Are you going to stay?” Pollux asks, voice no louder than a murmur, cupping Mason’s face in both of his hands, thumb stroking the corner of his lip, the stubble he finds there.

“Yeah...I’m staying.” He whispers back. 

It all goes unsaid, arms gingerly wrapping around Pollux, picking him up as he stands. Still unsaid as they both climb into bed, Pollux’s fingers finding the hem of Mason’s shirt and he coaxes it off, lips meeting for just a moment. A taste of words unspoken in the millimeters between them, in the negative spaces as Mason wraps his arms around him, skin against skin.

Pollux’s hand finds his, spreading his fingers out in a fan, moonlight setting Mason’s freckles to glow and Pollux’s scars to narrow lines like shooting stars painted across knuckles. The birth of the universe written from palm to palm and Mason closes his fingers around his, drawing him back in. Pulling him back to earth, back to his apartment, back to his bed. Back to words unspoken and grey eyes meet, still thick with apologies and Mason closes his opened lips with a kiss.

[siennahrobek]

The Temple was still burning on the outskirts while the evacuation had started.

It wasn’t enough to start a panic or hinder them, as what was left of the flames were outside the barricades. Most of what was visible was smoke.

Inside was a eerie mix of loud and quiet, with many scared and frightened to speak, fearing that the Sith would come and attack them again. But with the voices rising up for communications, to have everyone on the move.

Although most didn’t completely understand what was happening, everyone did know that they didn’t have much time, so everything occurred in quite the rush. People moved as quickly as they could, striding and jogging from one area to another. There were so many questions and Shaak Ti didn’t have the time or all the answers for them. She made a few announcements, organizing a few leaders together quickly before they split up to coordinate groups as the first couple of gunships came in. With the help of overarching creche masters and older, retired masters, they had arranged the clans and other younglings and babies into different places with several Jedi. A few de-chipped clones ended up joining them with some help, after Commander Cody had coordinated them as well. Many were carrying children and babies alongside the crechemasters and aides.

They were lucky, she mused, that no one had to come across any slain jedi or troopers as they made their way to the free landing pads. The battle had been near the front entrance while the smaller exit that the remaining jedi were using was nowhere near there.

She led the first group of children and younglings through dark halls and to the back exits, secret to most, before sneaking around in the shadows outside towards the landing pads. It was dark, the sky completely black, with only the lights from the city around them illuminating softly. The Temple was big and towering, everything looked further away. Thick smoke clouded the view from below.

There were a couple of gunships already landed, with only pilots and a single attendant clone attached. He didn’t keep a blaster in his hand. It was smart, Shaak Ti thought, especially considering the circumstances. The children behind her shuffled uneasily as they approached.

“General?” one of the clones stepped forth. “My name is Crys of the 212th. We are here to help begin the evacuation.”

“Thank you, Crys,” Shaak Ti bowed. “I am relieved to see you.”

He nodded and opened the doors. “General Kenobi informed us on the situation. We are going to get you out of here and to safety. We can probably get at least a dozen in each ship, if we work it right and no one minds squishing, maybe even more depending on the size of the beings,” he explained.

“Every gunship must have at least two adult attendants to help ward away any unwanted eyes or attention,” Shaak Ti nodded. “Masters Skasa, Torandu, take group one and two into that gunship over there. Leave immediately. Masters Yolandera, Orasata, take groups three and four. Masters K’Kruhk, Berena, group five and six; go with Crys here. Keep your commlinks on you, in case we need you to come back. Otherwise, get the children settled in on the ships and help coordinate others once they come, yes?”

The Jedi nodded, understanding, as they started to usher their children into the gunships, sometimes coaxing them gently, as hurriedly as they could go.

“Crys, make sure your pilots fly casually, not too fast to bring attention. The Knights and Masters will be able to help keep attention away with the Force,” Shaak Ti explained, keeping her voice kind and calm. “Each time you come down, bring a few more. We do not know when the next attack will be. I will send up medical teams and supplies in some as well so we can start with de-chipping you and your brothers. I am very sorry this is all…happening. We never meant for you all to go through something like this.”

He probably knew what she was talking about, from the look on his face. His shoulders slumped a bit. “General. We are sorry this is happening to you,” Crys insisted, his brows creasing. “No one deserves this.”

She nodded. “Thank you, trooper.”

With that, they gunships quickly took off again. Shaak Ti didn’t spend too much time to watch, just enough to see them able to get in the air and away from the Temple before she turned back and went back in to bring back the next sizable group.

Groups brought any supplies with them as well, stuffing bags and backpacks and cases for anything they might need for their journey. Random cases of clothes, food, utensils and resources were shoved into containers and given to anyone with a free hand. It was rather unspoken, but they all knew there was little chance they would return. A few groups sported the injured and sick, bringing along healers and medical equipment on their turns in the ships. The children, the elderly, the injured and healers were the first to work their way up, as the most vulnerable and the latter being more helpful to set up and coordinate with the clone medics to receive patients. There was much to do for the healers, from helping the injured from the battle to de-chipping the clones and freeing them from the chance of being under the Sith’s thumb.

Bail Organa’s ships came soon after, making the landing pads a bit crowded. She was a bit surprised and a little wary until his pilots explained they were here to help, quiet and quick. Confirming with Obi-Wan, Shaak Ti couldn’t help but be grateful. They had some allies.

Many bodies were able to fit on his ships and many still were equipped with camouflage and cloaking abilities. With the access to several of his ships, the evacuation was going much quicker and easier, and this brought great relief to her. Bail Organa himself seemed to have become their eyes and ears in the Senate, although Shaak Ti imagined most of his information would go to Obi-Wan, as the two were friends and could easily access one another in communication without suspicion.

Shaak Ti spent most of her time repeating herself, collected and calm, moving back and forth between the temple and the landing areas. Nearly every Jedi passed her gaze, from the tiniest babe strapped to someone’s chest to the eldest surviving master, hobbling over to the gunship as fast as they could go. She had a lot of mixed feelings about it. On one hand, it was a terrible thing to watch, her people vacating and escaping their home; nearly the only home that most of them had ever known with no answers as to what was happening but knowing enough that they would probably not be back for some time, if ever. To abandon nearly all that they had was saddening but Jedi were not known for their possessions. As long as they had the Force and each other, they would be alright.

On the other hand, it was a bit inspiring, watching everyone helping one another, working so quickly and efficiently to keep each other alive and in good spirits, despite the circumstances. Children were soothed by troopers and elders alike. Confused seniors were led by the steady hands of younglings and padawans, keeping themselves collected for the sake of others. Shaak Ti had watched as a small child took the hand of a shocked and crying clone trooper and would not let go.

This was them. They were together and surviving as well as they could.

They would get through this.

**************************************************************************************

Holy….

Oh. Oh man. This…this wasn’t good. Whatever this was.

Quinlan Vos froze in the doorway, staring wide-eyed at the unconscious body in front of him. The entire premise sounded, well, rather ridiculous. Somehow, someone had done this much damage to one of the Order’s best duelists and taken his hand? That just didn’t seem feasible.

“Do you know him?” the girl that guided him here asked. There was another sitting in the corner. “We tried to patch him up the best we could, we couldn’t find a lightsaber, but he’s…pretty messed up.”

“Understatement,” the other one snorted.

“You didn’t take him to a medical facility,” Quinlan noted.

“Even if we had a way to get there, have you seen the clones? I saw them shoot down some guy walking down the street,” she shook her head. “I don’t know what is going on, but the air is electrified, and I don’t want to be anywhere near it.”

Was…was that what the call was from the Temple? About the clones’ being compromised? The Jedi that had told him that whatever was happening with them may not be their fault. It was hard to tell. Quinlan didn’t want them to turn on the Jedi any more than any other Jedi did, but he would protect his own. He would have to avoid the clones, for the time being, perhaps, especially while he was on planet. With the massive Sith presence here, Quinlan didn’t like the coincidence. If that was what it was.

“Alright,” he answered. “This is the Head of the Order. I will take him. I have an ally who owns a diner, not too far away. I just need to be able to transport him and myself without attracting too much attention.”

“We don’t want to get more mixed up in this than we already have,” the older girl snapped, curling her lip and turning away.

The one who lead him to the room just rolled her eyes. “We have a cart you can probably roll him in. It isn’t super inconspicuous but more so than hauling a half dead body around.” The elder looked unimpressed.

Before Quinlan knew it, he had laid Master Windu’s form into a laundry cart and cover it up, just enough so no one would look twice at what was inside and then he was shoved out the door.

Dex’s diner wasn’t too far away, but it did take plenty of time for certain.

Windu looked terrible. His face was ashen and red at the same time, blotchy with a missing hand that was wrapped in a few towels and shirts. It wasn’t bleeding anymore but Quinlan figured it was probably cauterized. Perhaps it was cut off by a lightsaber; the cut seemed clean enough. He was still unconscious, although Quinlan thought he might be coming in and out, but delusional. It might have been the pain; the Kiffar was certain the man had plenty of broken bones. He would need weeks in a bacta tank, depending on his internal injuries. If Quin could get him to one fast enough.

“Hey! You there!” a familiar voice called out.

Quinlan hesitantly glanced back; his vision filled with several bland white armored beings. Clones. They leveled their blasters towards him and the crowd on the sidewalk pushed each other around to scatter, attempting to get away from the weapons.

“Stop on the Orders of the Emperor!”

The what now? Quinlan didn’t wait to ask as they fired a shot. He dodged it just in time and then he was off, running as he pushed the cart with Windu’s body in it. The whole scenario felt absurd and ridiculous, something out of a cartoon. The troopers yelled after him and then gave chase.

A ludicrous chase it was.

Quinlan felt like a terrified child, pushing his cart around. He tried to keep himself equally fast and steady but more often than not, one had to be sacrificed for the other. Hopefully Master Windu could stand a little more of a beating on his person.

The troopers continued to fire, one even barely clipping his shoulder as he darted down the streets. Alone, Quinlan could have easily gotten away. He was a shadow and good at that sort of thing, disappearing and losing people in a chase. But he had a large cart with a severely wounded unconscious body that he refused to get rid of. He was tired; the past weeks of battle, the last few days of investigation with little sleep, the running on fumes, Quinlan knew even he didn’t have much left in the tank.

By the time he had gotten to the door of his intended area and knocked hard on it, the blinds were shut, and the door was locked. He feared that no one would answer, and he would be stuck out in the cold with no back up and no plan. The Temple was certainly a no go at this point.

He let out a few curses under his breath before he felt himself sway. “I’m sorry,” Quinlan muttered a rare apology and collapsed on the steps.

***

Quinlan felt a bit better than he awoke, except for the awful crying in the Force, a near insurmountable grief and the pounding in his head. There had been a lot of death and grief throughout the war, mainly Jedi nearly taken down by the amount. But this was even more. Just so much more. Many were dead; even he could feel that. He swallowed and prayed that someone survived. He couldn’t possibly be the last.

Sitting up, Quinlan took in his surroundings. It wasn’t a large room, but he was on a small cot and nearby was another, Master Windu laid out atop. He was hooked up to an oxygen tank and it appeared a few bones looked reset. At least his arm and shoulder weren’t too out of sorts anymore.

Getting up from his cot, Quinlan got closer for another look. Some of his body bandages and the stump where his hand should have been, was cleaned up and wrapped much neater. The kiffar checked his pulse. Still breathing, a bit steadier than before. That was something.

Curious, he moved out of the room and looked around, and upon hearing the faint sizzling, he went to investigate. He found his way into the upper rooms of the place and with it, Dexter Jettser cooking up something in the kitchen. The besalisk glanced at him briefly but then turned to his task.

“Good, you’re up. I have some food for you and a ship nearly ready for you,” he greeted, flipping over the flat cake in the pan.

“What happened? How long was I out?”

“A while,” he answered vaguely. “I had a doctor come and look at your Jedi friend and start to get you started on a ship.”

“Started on a ship?” Quinlan questioned.

“I have to smuggle you out of here,” Dex admitted.

“Smuggle?”

Dex’s eyes darkened but were full of sympathy. “The Chancellor – my apologies, the emperor, has declared the Jedi traitors and are to be hunted down as such. The Republic is gone; there is now only an Empire.”

Quinlan nearly fell down into the chair behind him. All that work, all the things the Jedi had done – against their code, against their morals – for the Republic and all for what? To be stabbed in the back and the government torn apart?

“This is…” he drifted off. “I don’t know what this is.”

“The Emperor made the official announcement to the public,” Dex said with a frown. “And that every jedi and traitor is going to be hunted down.” He set a plate in front of Quinlan, forcing him to sit and slid the food in front of him.

“And traitor? Do we have allies?” Quinlan asked, taking a bite out of whatever flapjack food Dex had put in front of him. As always, it was delicious.

“I got a hold of Obi-Wan when you were out.”

Quinlan sighed in relief. There was someone. Someone. “He’s alive.”

“A bit rough shape but alive,” Dex nodded.

“He can be fixed up then.” As long as he was alive, Quinlan thought. It was a bit dark and selfish of him but Obi-Wan was the one who vouched for him after he came back from the dark side. He never wanted to let his friend down again. He had so much to repay for his loyalty, faith and kindness.

“He had a clone with him.” Quinlan tensed up, alarmed but Dex continued. “Turns out, they have chips in their brains which, when activated, force them to kill the Jedi. There was an attack on the Temple by clone troopers. He said the Sith are behind it,” he explained. “The Jedi got a bit of a warning so they could prepare just a bit and eventually saved a few as well as destroyed some of the Temple to keep them out.”

“Do you know what they are going to do?” Quinlan asked.

“They are fleeing,” Dex sighed. “With whom they can. And it’s your best option at this time too. I know their first stop, so the ship I’m working on getting you will get you there so hopefully you can catch up. They have a bit of a head start but it’ll be faster than the venators they’re flying up there.”

“Evacuation,” Quinlan pondered, nearly disbelievingly. Out of all the things he had seen in his life so far, he had never expected this to be one of them, not for the Jedi. “How is Master Windu doing?” he asked again, numbly.

“The Jedi you came in with. He’s alive,” Dex pointed out. “But he will need a bacta tank for a while. Hopefully, you can get a hold of one when you meet up with the other Jedi.”

Quinlan nodded. “How long until we can move?”

“A couple of hours,” Dex answered. “I know it’s a bit of time, but it was the fastest I could get on short notice. I’m used to smuggling weapons when I can, not beings on the fly.”

“It is appreciated,” Quinlan promised.

“My guess is you’ll be right behind Obi-Wan and their ships, as long as everything goes smoothly. It shouldn’t be a long trip, but it is pretty far out. I dunno how it will take for the new emperor to realize they are gone but it probably won’t be long.”

The realization hit him like a four-ton AT-TE.

Emperor.

Sith.

“Palpatine is the Sith Lord,” Quinlan realized. It felt numb, like he couldn’t feel the words his mouth was forming. He…they…this was… “Palpatine is the Sith Lord we have been looking for.”

How was this possible?

Dex stayed silent, whether giving Quinlan time to process or not entirely understanding what he was saying, Vos didn’t know but he rather appreciated it all the same.

“Palpatine is the Sith Lord,” he whispered. What if…what if he stayed and took him down? Granted, Quinlan didn’t have the best track record with this sort of thing at the moment, but everyone thought he was on Boz Pity, he could possibly take him by surprise?

Quinlan couldn’t see Master Windu from where he was in the other room, but he looked in that direction anyways. He needed help. Master Windu wouldn’t survive without him; he had to be Quinlan’s first priority at this point. He looked around and found a stack of blank paper, used for writing down orders. Finding a pen, he jotted something down on it. “I know this is asking a lot, or at least, I don’t really have the right to be asking this of you,” he started.

Dex met his eyes, a bit confused but also curious.

He gave the besalisk the paper. “This is…this is someone important. To both me and Obi-Wan. If you come across…” he struggled to say it, his paranoia was rearing its ugly head once again. Perhaps it would help this time. “Send them back to us.”

“I know this name,” Dex grunted, to Quinlan’s surprise as he slid the paper over and Dex looked down at it. Perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised, considering Obi-Wan had taken a lot of his friends to this diner over the years in his friendship with Dex. “Been to the diner before, with Obi-Wan. Don’t worry, I will wrap ‘em up and send ‘em to ya given the chance.”

Relief flooded Quinlan. He’d rather not lose again but if there was one thing he had learned over this whole debacle, he could count on Dex. The Jedi could and having allies was important. He just wished he could spend more time on planet gathering said allies. “Thank you.”

“We need to get you and your Jedi friend ready for your trip. I obviously can’t get a ship in front of my diner here so we will have to go to a landing platform. It’s not far but you’ll need to hide and be disguised so that the troopers don’t recognize you,” Dex explained.

Quinlan nodded. “Right. Right.”

“Vos,” Dex added, his eyes softening as all four of his arms seemed to sag. “The Jedi are not without friends in the galaxy. They are not without friends on the planet. There is more than just me,” he promised. “Whoever is found, you know that they have a chance, even here, with some of us. So, eventually, try to keep in touch, find some way of communicating so we can help.”

They had allies. They had friends. Quinlan wasn’t sure even Dex completely understood what that meant to the Jedi, especially in a government and a galaxy that seemed to hate or misunderstand them. “Yeah, Dex. Thank you.”

********************************************************************************

As Cin Drallig walked through the corridors, directing knights, masters and de-chipped clones, there was bare a moment where he was not in sight of a dead being, either a jedi defending their home or a brainwashed clone forced to fight. There were hundreds at the least, and Cin had to muster all he could not to close his eyes and cry. It was so many of the people he cared about, in his own home no less. He could recognize so many.

He had his padawan and a few others packing up lightsabers from the archives to the training salles. They were practically giving them away to anyone they could come across to transport them. Most jedi had at least two or three lightsabers nestled in their robes or clones with several on their belts.

The troopers had been a bit stunned at the easy tossing of saber to them.

Quarters were broken into, belongings and clothes thrown into duffle bags. Every Jedi had at least one duffle in their quarters, no matter their age or active status for the field. Some of the jedi that would have been on active duty in peace time would have a go bag ready to move, just in case they would be called away quickly. There had been times in the past. He doubted anyone would be coming back any time soon, if ever, so they would pack what they could. They had some time; the knights and masters would generally be the last to get on the venator ships above the planet. The injured, elderly and children would be first. So why wait around when they can gather resources for their journey.

The defeat of Anakin Skywalker – Darth Vader – had bought them some time. The Sith Master obviously wanted the boy as an apprentice quite badly, so it was, although a relief, although not quite surprising that there was somewhat of a retreat once he had been mutilated. He almost certainly would not be able to lead any troops back on the Temple again soon, which gave them some time due to the frenzy of being so injured, but Cin knew that any moment, another attack could come led by someone else.

He couldn’t guess what the Sith Lord was thinking or how prepared he was for this outcome. So, they worked as fast as they could.

Explosions and crumbled columns and walls and blocked outsiders from the inside of the Temple, mainly, although there were passes out, which were being used by Shaak Ti to lead the first groups to landing pads and to the ships. Skywalker may have known about those, but Cin doubted he was conscious and giving intelligence right now. The clones certainly wouldn’t know, not in their state of mind – or rather, lack thereof.

Cin picked through the bodies that flooded the halls until he got to the outer collapsed wall of the Temple, separating them from the outside and any brainwashed clones that may be on the other side. He set a hand on the rock and closed his eyes for a moment, taking a breath. It was near time to say goodbye.

A presence came up to him.

“We have collected all the living injured Jedi and clones, as well as the troops that had been trapped, at least, within the perimeter of the walls,” Ryrpam replayed, steadily. His voice had always been an informative and professional sort, a bit dry but quiet. He didn’t like to use it too much, Ryrpam was a bit of a discreet kind of being, that preferred actions over words. “Apparently a senator has secretly sent his ships to help evacuate.”

Cin’s brows furrowed. “Who?”

“A…senator Organa?”

Cin felt his chest relax a little. He didn’t particularly know many senators, but he did know many Jedi who worked more with senators than he did. Bail Organa was one he had heard nearly all good things about. He was probably someone they could trust. He didn’t know him but when there was talk about relations between the Senate and the Jedi, he was the name that popped up quite a bit.

“It’s making things go a lot faster,” Ryrpam added. Cin couldn’t tell what he thought about this development; a senator helping them to the point where they could very well be killed as a traitor. “This the size of the ships and the ability to be inconspicuous.”

“Or rather, normally conspicuous,” Cin pointed out, thinking about this for a moment. He couldn’t help but be relieved. Senator ships could often fit more than the gunships of the troopers and military. “Senator ships are constantly coming and going, in and out of the atmosphere. They won’t be amiss.”

The Guard nodded.

“This is…difficult,” he admitted, running his hand down a partially destroyed fresco that adorned a wall only half brought down. One could still see some of the faces and patterns painted in it. “Destroying parts of this place; leaving it, probably forever.”

“It is a home,” Ryrpam agreed. “But we survive.”

“And the Jedi have been more home than any building could ever be,” Cin finished. It did not completely make it easier, especially for Cin, especially with his relationship with this place. But in the end, the Jedi are his family, and he would choose them, even one of them, over this building any time, any day, forever. There was no choice in that matter. “You’re right, my friend. Have you seen Master Kenobi?”

Ryrpam shook his head. “Not seen personally, but some guards have been keeping an eye out for him. Everyone seems to know at least a bit about his duel with Skywalker. Most are surprised he made it out with so little injuries.”

“He is an excellent defensive fighter, he was always such a hard worker, always improving,” Cin replied, his mind flashing to the countless hours he had seen that boy training late at night and early in the morning throughout the years. As a padawan, as a knight, as a master. Obi-Wan was constantly on the move to improve. He had earned his mastery for certain, not just in his lightsaber tactics. He worked harder than most, Cin believed. There were underlying motivations, he knew, as he had known that boy since he was an initiate, but no one could say he didn’t work. “But Skywalker’s power and talent is difficult to overcome.”

A bit of an understatement, Cin grimaced. He probably could have defeated Skywalker, even with his ability, just from sheer experience. He had helped train that boy too, he knew a lot more of Skywalker’s moves than Skywalker knew of his. Cin was a master in the forms, had years of experience and teaching. He was powerful and his strikes were often deadly, but he wasn’t infallible in battle. That was definitely certain when Count Dooku had ruthlessly taken his hand, even if Skywalker had the last laugh, being the one to take his head.

He didn’t have the relationship with Skywalker that Obi-Wan had. Cin had a difficult time imaging having to fight someone so ruthlessly that you love so much. And Obi-Wan Kenobi’s love, the kind that Skywalker had a hold of, was something to behold.

“It seems he is holding himself quite well for the time,” Ryrpam noted. “At least, that is what I have been told by those who have seen him. The Guard communication chat has had a few updates. They’re worried, I think. About everyone, obviously, but with Kenobi…his padawan just turned Sith and was about to massacre our people. Even I am uncertain how he is holding himself up.”

“For now,” Cin echoed with a frown. “I will have to check in on him when we escape, make sure he is actually not sporting any internal injuries, get him to rest. He has been on the move for days, rescuing the Chancellor, fighting Dooku, defeating General Grievous. Fighting against someone like Skywalker…it is difficult to get away unscathed and he must be rather exhausted.”

Ryrpam nodded.

“But for now, we move along. And survive.”

*************************************************************************************************

Boil had liked his position as a scout. It wasn’t that he didn’t like to fight or couldn’t, contrary, he was actually fairly good at it, but he sometimes did like scouting ahead, being the first to see things, discovering. It was really made apparent back on Ryloth. He didn’t act like it, particularly, has he had a reputation to uphold, but Numa was a pleasant surprise on the field. At first he couldn’t help be annoyed, she was a child and she was alone and Waxer just did not want to leave her be.

But she ended up liking them, both Waxer and Boil. He remembered her excited chattering, after she had gotten over her skepticism and wariness of them. And Boil remembered the soft look on General Kenobi’s face when she called back to them when they were moving on after freeing the group of twi’leks, calling both of them Nerra. He remembered the smile that he had when he told them what it meant. Brother.

Boil also remembered Point Rain.

They had lost so many that day. Nothing had been going right and it was just a horrible last stand, praying for reinforcements to come to their aid, to save them. General Kenobi, alongside another survivor, Trapper, had been caught in a downed gunship outside of their little post, which was surrounded by the enemy. He and Waxer were sent to get them. They were good at that, he supposed. While Cody seemed to be retrieving General Kenobi’s lightsaber often – General Kenobi kept saying the crystal liked Cody – Waxer and Boil seemed to have a specialty of retrieving or finding General Kenobi himself.

He always knew them, even in unfamiliar armor. He always knew all of the troopers, really, but it often seemed like Waxer and Boil were the ones he was around a lot.

Being the first one that General Kenobi contacted upon this disaster was something of an honor, he supposed. He never wanted to let him down. There was something about having this general’s faith and trust that made them want to be the best they could, that they were valued. Sometimes it felt like they were chosen, and Boil always wanted to be worthy of that choice.

Boil had sent Waxer down to the Temple, to help coordinate between the building and their ship and if he came across General Kenobi, well, all the better. He hadn’t seemed very injured during their latest communications, but they had both only seen him from the waist up. And that didn’t even get into the look on his face, the one of pain and grief and exhaustion. They couldn’t help but worry.

The two of them almost thought the entirety of the 212th could feel it.

Boil had stayed above the planet in the ship, to organize everything inside. Inside one of the first shipments of mostly children and the elderly, came a young Coruscant Guard brother, who called himself Inkspot. He seemed to be a tremendous help with organizing what was going to go where and General Kenobi seemed to vouch for him. Most of their cargo would be people and medical supplies but this was an escape just as it was an evacuation – they would most likely never be returning to what remained of the Temple. Travel between a few of General Kenobi’s ships were coordinated as well, and some of the ships coming in with kids and supplies were directed towards them. They would want to spread things out a little.

The children, the injured, and the elderly were first, and he had never seen a more scared and brave group of people. Although many kids were crying, they kept going, listening to instructions intently and bundling up in areas where they were directed. It broke his heart, seeing these people, these refugees, coming with barely anything, to escape their own home through no fault of their own. He thought mutely of his own brothers. They weren’t so much refugees, running from their home, as they didn’t really have one, but they were running all the same.

He tried not to think about the brothers they weren’t able to save.

The ones still stuck planet side. The ones trapped in their own minds. Were they still in there, screaming and begging for their bodies to stop? Could they see anything at all? There were so many of them and Boil didn’t know who had survived. Who still had grips on their mind.

He almost wanted to be upset, that they were leaving so many behind. But he knew better, the Jedi didn’t have the numbers on planet. They barely managed to fend off some of the clones that were around the planet. Their numbers were scattered amongst the stars with the only ones with him being the old and young and vulnerable.

There had to be trust, he thought. Trust that once they regrouped, they would all come up with a plan to save the other brothers.

One child came up to him and handed him a little plastic flower. He was a bit mortified to say he just stared dumbly at her. “It’s not real but it’s my favorite kind,” she told him, tucking it in one of the crevasses of his armor. “I don’t know what is going on but thank you helping us.”

An adult ushered her away, murmuring apologies to him. He picked up the little flower and studied it and it was nothing like he could feel before. It was almost as if he could feel the gratefulness, the love imbued inside.

Was it possible that was what he was feeling? That he was right?

Then again, this was the Jedi, he shouldn’t be surprised.

They had been made for the Jedi, sure, but in the end, it had never mattered what the Kaminise or the Republic or the Chancellor said – they chose the Jedi, just as the Jedi chose them.

Boil was fairly certain they would be forever intertwined.

*******************************************************************************************

Waxer liked kids, he always had. Ever since he had seen another child, or anyone significantly younger than him, he practically fell in love. They were cute and pure and fun in a way that adults just didn’t know how to be anymore. Waxer strived to be more like them, to have the mind of a child. To be that kind and giving and beautiful of heart. He wasn’t sure if a soldier like him could do it, but he wanted it all the same.

He and Boil had agreed to separate. It was a rare thing, the two of them actually, willingly splitting. Boil didn’t always like to show it, but they were best friends, brothers more so than with others. They were battlefield brothers, a bond that wasn’t just covered with their genetics and choice, but one paved in blood and trust and loyalty. And more choice. He imagined they weren’t the only ones like that; the inseparable ones, but none of the others mattered.

Waxer was helping coordinate the groups into the ships, making sure every one of them was full to capacity, that they had everything and that they had adults to help keep unwanted attention away. General Kenobi had mentioned it before; if they ever had time when they escaped, he hoped they would be able to ask him about it. He loved listening to General Kenobi’s talks about the culture and the Jedi and everything else he knew.

And General Kenobi knew a lot.

Waxer gave out little band aids, each painted with a tiny little twi’lek girl, the one he and Boil had befriended on Ryloth. He wasn’t sure why, but he liked to do it in his spare time or during travel times. Band aids weren’t used a whole ton, as often soldiers didn’t care for them, thinking them worthless to use over little scrapes and cuts, but he had stolen a box from the medical bay, thinking no one would use them. Helix had been furious by the missing supplies, just on the principle of the matter, but General Kenobi had placated him and gotten another box. Another one had appeared under Waxer’s pillow one day. He took it as a sign.

The lines of Jedi and brothers were filled with wounded. Kids even who had hurt themselves trying to escape or scrambled away to safety during the battle. He handed out his coveted band aids like they were nothing, sticking them on even the tiniest scrapes upon a child’s knee or elbow or cheek.

“Firework!” one of them shouted. He had just given a little twi’lek girl a band aid and she whipped around in time with her partner’s voice, an older Mirilan boy that were standing right next to him. Waxer looked up.

It was a brother. Not one Waxer knew personally and not one of the 212th attack battalion or the 501st legion, but he had a very distinctive scar covering some of his face. It looked like lightning. The Mirilan boy and twi’lek girl, arms full of a horned jedi baby, jumped the line to run after the clone.

Waxer just watched as he scooped them all up and lifted them all together with ease. He couldn’t hear what they were saying but he could see the glisten of tears. One of the adult jedi shushed them and all of them blushed in embarrassment. The clone – Firework – said something and the Mirilian boy went right to work, unstrapping his back and chest plates before Firework took the baby from the twi’lek and placed it in between his chest and his armored chest plate.

The lieutenant blinked. That was rather smart.

Apparently, many other nearby brothers thought so as well. There were some that were already carrying babies or near someone carrying babies and they did something of the same, stretching their straps that held the chest and back plates together and making room for a sling between their blacks and the armor.

A few attending jedi just giggled.

Waxer wasn’t entirely sure what was going on with them, but he smiled as the four of them approached the line once more. “Are you all okay?” he asked. The brother – Firework – sagged a little bit but nodded at him.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I’m okay.”

“Firework got hit in the face,” the twi’lek girl announced, a bit loudly. “Does he get a band aid too?”

Both clones’ eyes looked down at her as she put her hand on her hip for emphasis, staring at Waxer as if she dared him to refuse. Waxer laughed out loud.

“Yeah, he can have one,” he said, giving her the band aid. She unwrapped it and practically pulled the brother’s face down from his loose chest plate before carefully sticking the band aid on Firework’s cheek.

“Thanks, Aash,” Firework acknowledged, quietly. “Are you ready to go?”

She took his hand and glanced at the Mirilan boy, who took Firework’s other. They looked cute and perfect, little jedi children huddling around a brother, one of them tucked closely to his chest and the others hand in hand. The girl, Aash smiled up at him, a bit sad but determined and brave. “With you, yes. Let’s go away now.”

Go away now, Waxer mused. It was almost time; nearly all the Jedi were aboard now. It appeared that was what they were all about to do.

[hemaris]

Hello I love your penumbra art and I showed some to my friend who finally started listening to Juno Steel and she said that she's been enjoying penumbra fanart but keeps on seeing fantastic Peter designs and then having to ask where his pockets are. This is not at all a criticism I just needed to share the thought because now I'm wondering too

OKAY THAT IS A GREAT QUESTION so here’s a trio of highly unlikely options for your consideration (put into fic format by someone who has little to no experience writing fic and is, to be completely honest, miles outside of their comfort zone):

nureyev’s pockets contain a - for the lack of a better word - pocket dimension

“You’re full of shit, Steel,” Vespa says. “If you wanna brag about sticking your hands down the thief’s pants, go find someone else to do it to.”

And really, Juno has been at the business end of Vespa’s blade before, but twice in one morning is probably a new record. He bristles. “Okay, first of all, would it really kill you to not wave your knife at me every single time we’re in a room together? Can’t we have one conversation where this doesn’t happen?”

“You started it! You got your finger all up in my face!”

“Yeah, well, my finger doesn’t have a long and celebrated history of gutting people when-”

“Keep it civil, sweethearts,” Buddy says from the other side from their makeshift recreation room, where she and Jet are playing a game Juno has never heard of involving a set of oddly shaped dice, some old Uno cards, and, inexplicably, a pineapple. Vespa moves to sheathe the knife, but makes a whole show out of doing it without averting her icy stare for even a split second. Juno has to suppress the fleeting urge to do something petty and potentially life-threatening, like sticking out his tongue at her.

“Second of all,” he continues, his voice only slightly lowered, “you asked! You asked me about Ransom’s - about his pocket situation, I’m just telling you what I know. And for the record, I never said anything about anyone’s pants. Or where I’m sticking my hands. Or, you know, whatever. Shut up.”

Vespa still hasn’t broken eye contact. “No, Steel,” she says, “I asked you how the thief managed to get an entire cupboard worth of Ming dynasty porcelain off of Titan and onto our ship. What you’re telling me is that he has magical mega pockets that are bigger on the inside, which isn’t a thing.”

“That’s what I used to think about teleportation, and mind reading, but here we are.” The truth is that the porcelain thing is a mystery to Juno as well. He has asked Nureyev, of course, but all he got in response was a that’s for me to know and for you to figure out, isn’t it, detective, which is more than a little annoying. “All I’m saying is that it could be an option. Don’t rule it out just yet.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Vespa says. “Ask him to pull, I don’t know, a live rabbit out of his breast pocket, and maybe I’ll buy into it.”

Juno has to roll his eye at that, and immediatey realizes he’s lost their little staring match. Not that it matters - the odds were stacked against him from the get-go anyway, with Vespa having a whole extra eye to look pissed off with. “Fine, whatever. But just for the record - have you seen a rabbit lately? Because I can guarantee you those things won’t go down or come out of anyone’s pocket willingly, regardless of pocket size.”

It might be a trick of the light, but for a brief moment, he thinks he sees the corner of Vespa’s mouth quirk up just a little.

a strategy once used by juno himself: Just Put It In Your Mouth! it’s mother nature’s built-in pocket!

“Uh oh,” Nureyev says once Rita has successfully hacked the giant metal door to slam shut behind them and they’ve skidded to a halt. He tentatively presses a hand to his throat.

“What- are you-“ Juno wheezes from where he’s doubled over, "Are you okay? They didn’t hit you, right?”

Nureyev makes a dismissive fluttery motion with his free hand. “Nothing of the sort.”

Juno squints at him, giving him a once-over, and seems to sag with relief once he sees Nureyev is not actively bleeding. It’s a little bit endearing, Nureyev thinks. “Okay, whew, good,” he says. “So then - what’s the ‘uh oh’ for? We got the blueprints, we-”

“Let’s say,” Nureyev interrupts him, “hypothetically speaking, that there was some ancient and priceless treasure in the vault we took the blueprints from.”

“That’s not really a hypothetical,” Juno says. “There was enough old Earth monarchy junk in there to bedazzle the entire Carte Blanche with.”

"Right. And now let’s say, once again purely hypothetically,” Nureyev continues, “that someone with only the noblest of intentions noticed the Koh-I-Noor diamond among that treasure, and that that someone decided to free it from the monstrously tacky diadem contraption it was stuck onto, because it’s a waste for something like that to be gathering dust in a vault.”

“You know,” Juno says warily, “I’m not sure I like where this is going.”

“The problem is that this outfit, while very stealthy, does not provide a great amount of secure pocket space, so i had to improvise.”

“Oh no,” Juno says.

“So I put it in my mouth, but then the guards arrived and while we were running I-”

“Oh no,” Juno repeats, a little louder this time. “Ransom, you - did you eat the Koh-I-Noor?”

“I accidentally swallowed the Koh-I-Noor, there’s a difference-”

“You ate it. You- Ransom, who would even-”

“Who would even what, Juno” Nureyev interrupts him, “There’s this old saying, something about a pot and a kettle, I believe.”

Juno’s comms crackle to life. “RIGHT,” Rita chirps loudly, “I know the both of you are very busy talkin’ about who ate a conifer and why - and i’m not judgin’, mista Ransom, you eat your greens however you wanna! That’s what my mom told me that time I dipped my green beans in marshmallow fluff - which I wouldn’t recommend, by the way, at least not with the beans, it was a WHOLE mess. Maybe with some broccoli, though, or baby carrots, or - anyway, what I was gonna say is they’re about to crack this door open, so I’m just thinkin’, maybe now isn’t the best time for this conversation?”

“He didn’t eat a conifer, Rita, it’s - actually, don’t worry about it,” Juno says. “Let’s get moving. I’m sure Vespa can figure something out to make you hurl the thing up again. But for the record, Ransom, don’t expect me to ever let you hear the end of this.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Nureyev replies. Juno grins a little, crooked and pretty, and Nureyev’s stomach almost somersaults enough to throw the stupid diamond out.

and lastly - why use your own pockets when you can use someone else’s?

“Nureyev,” Juno says against his neck, “can I ask you something?”

They’ve folded themselves onto Nureyev’s cot, neither of them up for more than just lazing around. Nureyev has been trying to study some floor plans for the last twenty minutes, but if he’s being honest with himself, he has no idea what building, owned by what person, built on which planet in whatever system he’s been looking at. He’s mostly been lost in thought, only grounded by the weight and warmth of Juno pressed against his side. He had thought the lady asleep until now.

It’s a little ridiculous, the effect his own name being spoken by Juno Steel has on him. He’s fairly sure that with Juno this close, he should be able to feel the shiver it sends down his spine, pick up on the stutter in his pulse. It’s okay if he does, he tries to tell himself, it’s okay, it’s only Juno - but at the same time Juno is infinitely, immeasurably more than 'only Juno’ to him.

“Of course,” he replies. “Anything, anytime.”

Juno hums. “Earlier, when we got back from the media bigwig backstabbing competition-”

“It was an award show, dear Juno.”

“I said what I said. Anyway, when we got back, there was something in my pocket that I definitely didn’t put there myself.”

Oh.

“A flash drive,” Juno continues, “that had the name ’M. Valderrama’ engraved into it. And a crazy amount of plastic rhinestones glued to it, but that’s not the point. I didn’t wanna risk it containing a virus and blowing up the ship, so I didn’t plug it into anything. But I did do my research, so I know Mignon Valderrama was at the backstabbing- I mean, the award show, and is the acclaimed director of titles such as ’The Notebook Part 44: This Time They’re All Ancient Mercurians’, the entire ’Ultra Magma Tsunami’ franchise, and the upcoming-”

“The upcoming blockbuster ’Cerebral Cephalopods: Rise of the Mathematician Octopi’,” Nureyev finishes.

Juno shifts against him. "Yeah, that’s the one. Didn’t know you were a fan.”

“Oh, I’m not,” Nureyev replies airily.

“Still,” Juno says, propping himself up on an elbow. “I have to wonder. How and why did mx. Valderrama’s flash drive, rhinestones and all, end up in my pocket?”

“Hmm. Would you believe me if I told you mx. Valderrama tripped, and the drive flew out of their pocket and into yours?”

Juno shakes his head. “C'mon, Nureyev.”

And for a moment, he hesitates. It’s not the best of stories. There’s no real noble, for-the-greater-good, Robin Hood-esque reason for him stealing the drive. He didn’t do it for the challenge, either - Valderrama might as well have presented it to him on a silver platter. Sure, he could make something up, spin a tale, make it sound big and impressive and sensible. But despite the alarm bells going off in his mind, he also thinks it might not be so bad to tell the truth, to bare his throat to Juno just a little. Of course, his own voice echoes, anything, anytime.

He sighs. “I might not be a fan, but I believe your secretary is. She’s been talking about those Magma Tsunami movies for days. They are horrible, by the way - she made me sit through two of them and I can’t believe I’m never getting those four hours of my life back. Valderrama should be liable for damages to my psyche. The drive, as you probably guessed, contains what I’m pretty sure is the final cut for whatever that octopus movie is supposed to be, so I snatched it up for her. My dress didn’t have any pockets, so I slipped it into one of yours. I must have forgotten to slip it out again.”

Juno frowns. “Wait - Rita? Did she ask you to? Because at this point i’m pretty sure she could hack into the studio’s servers in a heartbeat, and rip the whole thing-”

“She didn’t ask,” Nureyev says. “It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing. But she wouldn’t have been able to get her hands on this by hacking. Valderrama is famously paranoid about leaks. All of their works-in-progress are stored on only a handful of physical drives until the day of release. One of the drives goes into a vault with a nightmarishly difficult analogue lock, one goes to the executive producer, and Valderrama keeps one of them on their person at all times. I saw my chance, so I took it.”

“Huh,” Juno says, “that's… that’s kind of sweet of you, actually.” He prods Nureyev in the chest with a finger. “And very illegal, and you shouldn’t do it again. But still. That's… yeah. That’s sweet. She’s gonna be over the moon.”

That’s what he’d been hoping for. He smiles, shrugging a little. “We’re space pirates, Juno. Most of what we do is illegal. We got into the award party illegally, and for illegal reasons. Valderramma will make their billions with or without that drive. It’s just-” he sighs again, raking a hand through his hair. “Rita is very important to you, which - which makes her very important to me. She’s been there for you all these years, and she’s never been anything but kind to me either. I’m not trying to buy her friendship or her appreciation, I suppose I just… think she deserves something nice, especially if that something is within arm’s reach anyway. Even if that something is a movie about hyperintelligent squids taking over Mars’ moons.” He lets his head fall back into the pillows. “I know that might sound a little foolish.”

Juno leans into him a little more, cupping Nureyev’s jaw in his warm hand, looking a little bit puzzled and a lot fond. “I’m pretty sure you already know that I love your particular brand of foolish,” he says after a second.

And before Nureyev has the chance to think about what that means for too long, Juno is kissing him, wiping any semblance of thought from his mind.

[early-sxnsets]

Put A Ring On It

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19934752

Epilogue of “It’s A Handheld Disaster”

Word Count: 2165

Summary: After years of being together, Baz finds the perfect spot to propose at.

Notes: this fic has been a long time in the works--as in, i started it nearly two months ago, didn’t have a laptop for a month and a half, and finally was able to finish it tonight. this goes out to @the-lincyclopedia, who i promised this to a while ago (i’m sorry it took so long omg). i hope y’all like it!!!

~~~~~~~~~~

“You really won’t tell me where we’re going?”

The cellophane wrap around the flowers squeaks as I squeeze the stems, letting them roll in my hands as Baz’s fingers keep snuggly wrapped around my bicep. I feel his index and middle finger tap a few times while the soft rumble of his voice just barely escapes the thundering noise of the underground.

“No.”

My lips press together as I huff, staring out into darkness.

Fucking drama queen, with his blindfolding and romantic gestures.

“I hate you.”

“You don’t mean that.”

I can’t stop myself from smiling, even if it’s a tiny smirk. “Never have. Doesn’t change the sentiment, though.”

His hand curls tighter, pulling the fabric of the nice shirt he made me wear. The car jostles, and we roll our feet with the track’s bumps. It isn’t really jarring, but instead a bit calming. Baz’s head drops to the top of mine, settling there as his hair falls down and brushes my cheek. I move to push it off, but it falls right back into place.

“Do you not trust me?” Baz murmurs, his hand sliding down to mine as my nose wrinkles.

“Of course I do,” I protest back, taking hold of his hand and pressing out palms together. His fingers sink right into place. “After nearly half a decade, I don’t think I have much a choice, do I?”

Pause. “No, not really.”

“Thought so.” We lean against one another, the car of the train rocking a bit and starting to squeal into the next station.

“Mind the gap between the train and the platform,” it stirs, the masculine voice speaking over head before changing to, “This is, Bakers Street.”

Baz gives my arm a good tug, leading us out of the Tube as I blink curiously. Yes, sure, there’s a few things around here that are worth the trip. Like that one shop with the fantastic lemon poppy muffin, or the zoo, and of course the Gastrell museum, but it’s all usually a bit of a splurge given our usual budget (especially since his father stopped sending cheques once we graduated).

“Can I take off the blindfold yet?” I ask, feeling him pull me out towards the stairs.

“Not yet,” he calls, steps ahead and voice getting lost amongst the crowd. In hopes of keeping him close, I tighten my grip and carefully follow him step by step.

The crowd keeps around us, and finally breaks as we rise up into the outside, city air.

It’s a change in volume now. Moving cars, passing busses, and the remarkable scent of the nearby street cart vendors.

Baz drifts close enough that I can take hold of his bicep, feeling the slight chill of his skin underneath as I walk closely to his side. “How far?”

He hums beside me, other hand closing around our joint ones as the wrap for the flowers audibly catch on his face. “Not even five minutes--will you hold up until then? Please?”

I sigh, dramatically, and tighten the hand around his arm. “Five minutes?” I enthuse dramatically. “Better be for the bloody Queen.”

“I thought I was the queen of this town?”

“Drama queen, maybe.”

I feel a pinch at my arm, and I can’t help but smile, tugging him closer as we slow our strides. His hand circles around mine, rubbing my wrist and soothing my nerves as we step in time together. It feels like we’ve always been like this--in synch. I don’t know how, and I don’t know why, but we’re always in this rhythm.

I wonder, sometimes, if that’s what made me fall in love with him. The beat. A nonstop back and forth. A pace to our connection.

Something irreplaceable. Something I don’t know if anyone could ever replicate.

We weave about and walk in time until we get to a stop. He tugs my arm back, looping his free hand around my elbow as I halt and turn at his will. Suddenly, he lets go before steady hands work around my skull, unwrapping and untying the careful knot in my blindfold.

Once it falls, I see it in fine, carved lettering.

“The Huxley Gastrell Museum”

I turn slowly back, barely seeing the excitement contained on Baz’s face as he tries to gesture up cooly. “Well?”

“Holy shit,” I laugh. I don’t have much else to say, or do, besides hug him tight, nearly making the flowers fly everywhere as I exclaim “Holy shit!” once more.

He smirks proudly, arms circling around me and tugging our bodies together. Keeping mindful, I carefully tuck my face into his neck and press a soft, slow kiss to his skin. It’s a bit cold to the touch, but easy to indulge in.

He hums, clearly grinning as he speaks. "Happy anniversary, my love."

Pulling back, my face starts to hurt from all the smiling. "Fuck you, and your surprises," I breathe cheekily, nose brushing his as I go in for the kiss.

We laugh together before he hauls me into line, letting me practically curl around his bicep and kiss his shoulder as often as I like. Screw anti-PDA bullshit, he's getting all my affections.

“How long have you been planning for this one, then?” I hum, glancing around the street as I think through it. Sure, he’s been putting in hours at the bookshop he’d took the job at last year, and we’ve been eating out a bit less, but I’d figured we’d just been saving generally.

Not that this is expensive, or anything. Just not something we tend to work towards spending money on. Still, not a terrible surprise by any means, regardless as to how deep we are (or really, aren’t) in the fandom, nowadays.

It isn’t like we abandoned our love of it at all--quite the opposite, really. Our bedroom practically has a shrine, after all. Stacked special editions, antique copies of the book. Copper busts, the collector’s item dolls. Hell, Baz even got the same type of violin that Gastrell plays as a holiday gift two years ago that just sits there and collects dust as a display centrepiece. It feels like, sometimes, we appreciate it more than we did when we were younger.

But our worlds changed.

We found new ways to cope. New ways to love.

Healthier things to enjoy.

Our blogs are still up, but just shifted a bit. Mine ran out of focus and is mostly my shitposts now, while he’s moved towards more life-updates sort of shit. He’s got enough followers accumulated over time that they shockingly care about what we do now, but the overarching urge to post about Gastrell has died down.

Now it’s just people asking about our lives (and Penny’s too, by relation). It’s a bit amazing that people actually care about shit like our relationship, but it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy when people ask if we’re planning on getting married. Which, we agreed that we’d wait until we were done schooling to figure out that far into the future.

Although, now that we’re done, it feels like neither of us have mentioned it. And, while it doesn’t feel awkward, it still comes back into my mind every now and again as a question. I tend to ignore it. Figured we’ll talk about it when he’s ready.

But now? Now we’re in a happy place, regardless. Separated from the past now, and moving towards a new life.

Which excludes most of our old online life--guess isn’t a shock, anyway. Given the fandom’s practically dead along with it. Still, we read reread the stories, rewatch the better episodes, and always use it as our go-to for a costume party.

But it feels like history, now.

It’s still part of our history--Huxley and Sammy. Part of their story has become part of ours.

“Planned the museum idea a month or two ago,” he says, a bit self-righteously (still a prick, after all this time). “Good idea, though, isn’t it?”

“Suppose so.” I shrug up to him as we step ahead. “Lucky guess, but good idea.”

“I never guess on these sorts of things.”

“Liar.”

Together, we wrinkle our noses up to one another, then follow the line as it scoots closer, people piling into the bottom of the shop.

We’ve been down here before--we came here the first week we moved into London. Which, strangely, feels like centuries ago now.

We didn’t have much money to do anything, but we just wanted to peer inside, given this space is free. Fiona bought us some housewarming mugs here that day.

I smile when I see the same ones, looking over them as we brush past and head towards the ticket booth for the proper parts of the building.

Baz pays with cash as I lean against his arms, trying to get a good look up and sniffing my flowers happily. It looks like what I’d imagined from the book--especially with the way Baz peppers in emphasis on details.

He reads a story aloud whenever I can’t sleep. We’ve gotten through all the stories twice now.

I tug on his sleeve again as he’s thanking the ticketer, practically buzzing as he laughs at me and finally follows along as I dash up.

“Why don’t we start at the top?” Baz says gently as I practically skip my way upwards. “Work our way down?”

I shrug, nodding silently as we brush past other people stopping off immediately at the second floor. I tug him along, taking some steps two at a time to get up and finally start to look about the space. And, while it isn’t quite boring, the third floor fascinates us both a bit more, despite the wax sculptures feeling a bit creepy. I’ve never quite been one for lifelike shit that isn’t living, after all.

Still, it’s interesting. The staple items--the ones to gawk at. The ones I tug his arm over, watching him grin as I excitedly sneak in references.

He stays a bit silent most of the time, his hand in his jacket (which I probably should make fun of him for--it feels a bit too warm for thicker clothes). Sometimes I catch him staring at me instead, which I tease him a bit for, but he nudges my arm and rolls his eyes as his response.

“There’s only one Gastrell Museum,” I remind him at one point.

He shrugged, which made me feel a bit off, but I shrug away the thought. Maybe something to talk about later.

I do catch him after we make it down to the second floor, though. Give him a good peck on the cheek as we huddle into a corner.

He raises a brow as I stare up, one hand settling onto his chest.

“Just… wanted to say thank you for a fantastic present,” I whisper. “I don’t know if my anniversary breakfast quite lives up to this one.”

His face breaks into a private grin, eyes rolling as he kisses my cheek back. “I thought the pancakes were an excellent effort,” he whispers, making my cheeks flush.

Effort is the right word for them.

“Thanks,” I scoff softly before we step into the main room, glancing briefly before deciding to head through the back rooms first before taking it all in.

It’s fun to gaze around the bedrooms, sure, but I’m practically bouncing on the balls of when we make it back to the main one.

Baz lets go of me as I take a step closer to their armchairs set up, borderline vibrating as I peer around the space in front of me. “Hey Baz,” I start, going to spin around as I speak. “Can we take a picture of--”

I nearly drop my fucking flowers, staring wide-eyed as he exhales, kneeling down and staring up at me with raised eyebrows.

“Holy--”

His smile and hand movement cuts me off as he opens a box, grinning like a madman. I swear, I’ve never seen him this genuinely joyful. Half makes me wonder if he’s just having a laugh, but fucking hell, the ring that he’s got int here looks expensive and old. “Simon,” he says gently. “I could give you a year’s-long speech about why I love you, but it’s never going to properly summarize how I feel. You have been, and still are, the most important thing in my life, and I’d be honored if you--”

“Stop rambling,” I laugh, bending down to grab his face. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you.”

He blinks, a little taken aback by my response, but ends up just pushing himself up and snogging me, right in the middle of the room.

Screw the fannish shit I wanted to do--kissing Baz in the middle of the Gastrell museum is probably both the best possible and most appropriate thing for us to do here.

After all, it is part of our history.

[thewarriorandtheking]

After the Battle for Erebor

I thought it would be fun to go back and write a piece set in the early days of the courtship between these two...I am finding it is much easier to write about falling in love than it is to write about characters that have been partners for years...

Hector trotted ahead as she entered the Houses of Healing, scattering Dwarves in his path. Dire wolves were not a common sight in Middle Earth and certainly not in the city of Erebor. Kaylea Wolf met Elrohir in the hall outside the room where the King was convalescing. The Elf smiled when he saw her, reaching to scratch her wolf under the chin.

“How is the King today?” Kaylea asked.

“He should be up and around by this evening,” Elrohir answered, his eyes dancing. “I was just changing his dressings. Your Dwarf is almost healed.”

Kaylea rolled her eyes. “Thorin Oakenshield is not ‘my’ Dwarf!”

“So you say. The King may think otherwise,” the Elf replied. “You can go in. Balin is with him.”

Shaking her head, Kaylea knocked twice and opened the door. Thorin was sitting up amongst the pillows on his bed, looking pale but better than he had the previous night. Balin was seated beside him holding a sheaf of papers which they seemed to be discussing. Thorin’s face lit up when he saw her.

“My lady! Please come in!”

Kaylea stepped into the room and took a knee beside the King’s bed, Hector followed her and sat by the door. “My king, it is good to see you looking so well,” she said.

Thorin motioned her to get up. “I hoped you would come visit me today, you quite brighten up this room.”

Kaylea smiled as she got to her feet. “I only came to see how you are healing. I can see you are busy, will not bother you further.”

“Not at all! Please sit and talk with me awhile,” he motioned to the chair on the other side of the bed. “Balin was just leaving.”

The old Dwarf gave Thorin a surprised look. “I was?”

The King scowled at him. “Whatever it is can wait,” he said. Balin hesitated, giving Thorin a skeptical look. “Surely you can give your King a few moments to himself.”

Balin took a deep breath, getting to his feet. “Very well, but we have many things to discuss, laddie. I will be back soon.” He gathered his papers and, after bowing politely to Kaylea, took his leave.

Thorin watched him go, then turned his attention to Kaylea, who had taken a seat in a chair next to his bed. “I feel every moment I am awake there is someone asking for my attention,” he said with a wry smile.

Kaylea nodded. “Such is the life of a King. Have you given any thought to forming a King’s Council to take over the simpler tasks and lighten your burden?”

Thorin nodded. “Balin and I were discussing that very thing,” he looked at the door. “But I want to hear about you. Where did you go after we parted, and how did you come to Erebor? Hopefully you will have time to tell the story before Balin returns with another stack of papers!”

Kaylea smiled slyly. “I can have Hector lay in front of your door, that will keep him at bay, at least for a little while.”

Thorin laughed. “Please do!” He watched as she rose to open the door, his eyes traveling over her worn travelling clothes. This morning her tunic was not laced all the way, the collar falling to one side to reveal a hint of her breasts. Her lean body, her long golden hair, her flawless features, just looking at her stirred his blood. When he met her eyes he again had that sense of finding something for which he had long been searching. As she came back to sit beside the bed Thorin patted the coverlet beside him.

“Please sit with me, my lady,” he said. Kaylea took a seat on the edge of the bed, Thorin took her hand and brought it to his lips. “I am so glad you came to see me.” Thorin still looked tired, Kaylea could see the fatigue around his eyes, but she found it very hard to stop herself from kissing him. She had to will herself to stay still. In the time they had been apart she had managed to push Thorin out of her thoughts, but being so close to him the past two days, the desire she felt for him had come back with a vengeance. She remembered every detail of the kiss they had shared when they parted on the Brunien, the warm, earthy taste of his mouth, the way his soft beard tickled her face. She ached to feel his arms around her again.

Thorin listened attentively as she told him of her journey. She had travelled west to the Ered Luin and south to Gondor, gathering much information about the whispers of darkness that were creeping into the land. Kaylea told him a little of her discoveries about the Necromancer, and bringing up Mirkwood gave her the opportunity to ask Thorin about his travels. As they talked, Thorin held her hand in his, feeling the spark of her touch on his skin. She was close enough now he could just catch the scent of her hair, he longed to pull her to him and kiss her but she seemed to be holding herself apart. He had been so sure of their mutual affection after the kiss they shared when they last parted, now she seemed to be drawing herself away again. Thorin had always found her nearly impossible to read, she seemed so practiced at concealing her emotions. As he told her about his time in the Woodland King’s dungeons he watched closely for any cracks in her stoic demeanor.

They talked together for some time, just enjoying each other’s company. Two hours had passed almost before they knew it. Suddenly Kaylea got an image from Hector out in the hall, Balin was holding up a meaty bone, trying to get him to move.

“I am afraid we have quite lost track of time, your majesty,” Kaylea said. “I am sure there must be quite a few of your subjects out there waiting to see you.” Mentally she told Hector he could have the bone. The door creaked as the wolf got up.

Thorin heard it and frowned at the door. “Let them wait. I am enjoying myself for the first time since I woke up.”

“You have responsibilities,” Kaylea said. “Elrohir said you should be out of these healing rooms by this evening. We can talk again soon.” Balin was already knocking. She moved to get up, but Thorin gripped her hand tightly and pulled her to him.

Kaylea put her hand on his chest. “My king…,” she began, but before she could go on, Thorin quickly reached up and put a hand behind her head, pulling her mouth to his. Their lips met for just a few seconds before Balin came through the door and Kaylea stood up.

“I hope to see you again soon, your majesty,” she said. She bowed to the King formally to cover her arousal, her heart was pounding and she could feel the heat rising to her face. Why did she find it so hard to control herself with this man?  

“The celebration feast is tomorrow night,” Balin said, looking from one to the other curiously. “There will be a place of honor there for you, my lady.”

Kaylea nodded. “I will look forward to it.” She turned to go.

“I will not see you again before?” Thorin asked, looking disappointed. He could see the flush on her cheeks, to his eye it made her even prettier.

“You have many things to attend to, and when you are out of bed I wager you will be busier still,” Kaylea replied. “I will see you at the feast tomorrow night.”

Thorin watched her go, trying to calm himself. Just that brief touch of her lips had set every nerve in his body on fire. It was exactly as he remembered, the feeling of a current of energy traveling from her right into his core. He could feel how his touch awakened her whole body, the passion with which she had returned his kiss was undeniable. Licking his lips, he savored the taste of her mouth that lingered just for a moment on his tongue. Thorin closed his eyes and let his head fall back, if only he had acted sooner. He resolved that the next time they were alone he would not hold back.

“Now, where were we…,” Balin was saying, shuffling his papers.

 As Elrohir had predicted, that evening the Dwarven healers pronounced him well enough to leave his bed. The King had dinner with the members of his old company who had survived the battle, the loss of his nephew Kili was still hard to bear. They were all overjoyed to see him healed and most of all, cured of the dragon sickness that had so marred their months in Erebor together. Later that evening Thorin walked through the rooms of the treasury, finding himself astonished that it had once had such a hold on him. He had heard Kaylea used some kind of Dorsai medicine on him, had she somehow cured his dragon sickness as well? He fingered a length of mithril chain, thinking about a necklace for her. Maybe with some blue gems that matched her eyes. His mind went down a pleasant path as he imagined unlacing her tunic to find such a necklace underneath.

“Excuse me...oh, pardon me, your majesty! I did not know anyone was down here.” It was one of the servants, pushing a cart loaded with golden cutlery, no doubt getting ready for tomorrow’s feast. Thorin turned and nodded in acknowledgement. “It is good to see you recovered from your wounds, if you do not mind me saying, sir.”

“Thank you,” Thorin replied. “I have been in bed the last few days, I felt like a walk.”

“Of course, sir,” the Dwarf replied. “Let me know if you need anything,” he added before turning to leave.

“Just Kaylea Wolf,” Thorin whispered, smiling at himself.

“The warrior woman?” Apparently, the servant had sharp ears. “I am afraid you will not find her in the city tonight, she rode out this afternoon on her horse.”

Thorin looked at him sharply. “Rode out? Are you sure?”

The Dwarf nodded. “Watched her myself, had that big wolf with her and everything.” He looked down, as if embarrassed. “She is hard to miss.”

Thorin put a hand on the Dwarf’s shoulder as he walked past. He made his way quickly through the halls to the gallery were Kaylea had her rooms. He knocked on the door twice before going in. She was not there. The bed was made and a fire had been set in the hearth, but there was no indication she had ever been there. He looked around quickly for any sign that she was coming back, he could feel panic rising in his chest. Would she truly leave him without a word? When he opened the wardrobe he breathed a heavy sigh of relief, her clothes were still there. She did not have many, as she had been living for months on the back of her horse, she certainly would not leave them behind. Thorin fingered the fabric of one of the long-sleeved shirts, it looked like soft silk, but between his fingers it felt almost like woven metal. Impulsively he brought the garment to his nose, inhaling deeply. There was that scent he remembered so well, fir trees and a hint of cinnamon, sun on desert sand, the rosewood and lavender smell of her hair. Closing his eyes, he was transported back to the first night they had spent together, hunting orcs through the forest. Riding on the back of her horse, his arms around her slim waist. After a moment he came back to himself, realizing he probably should not be in her rooms uninvited. He very much wanted to just sit and wait for her to return but instead he made his way along the gallery to his own rooms.

The next day passed quickly in a whirlwind of meetings and inspections. As Kaylea had predicted, there were more demands on his attention than he could have ever imagined. Thorin started his day by choosing a council from members of his company and some of Dain’s men who had declared their intention to stay. There was much work to do before Erebor could be habitable for a large number of his people, and winter was fast approaching. After his first council meeting the King spent his day inspecting the repairs that had been started in different parts of the city, he found the work was progressing even faster than he had hoped. Balin accompanied him, making notes in the little book he always carried. Everyone seemed overjoyed to see him so quickly healed, in fact the wounds barely bothered him now. Throughout the day he had often looked around for Kaylea, but had not seen her. She had said she would be at the feast, and so far she had not broken her word.

The grand dining hall in Erebor had been carefully cleaned, the long tables set with the King’s golden service and groaning under every kind of delicacy. With all the lamps lit, the banners of the Seven Families unfurled, the fires roaring in the hearths, Thorin felt as if he had finally come home. How well he remembered attending formal dinners in this hall with his grandfather presiding at the King’s Table. Now it was his turn. As Thorin took his seat he looked out at the full tables. Bard was there with some of his men from Dale, there were Elves from the Woodland Realm and Elrohir standing apart with his black hair. All the members of his old company were in attendance, including Gandalf and Bilbo. Dain was seated to his right, Balin on his left, looking down the table he saw Kaylea Wolf seated several seats past Dain.

He scowled at Balin. “I thought you would seat Kaylea next to me.”

“That would not be proper, your majesty,” Balin replied, giving Thorin a long-suffering look. “She is not a member of your house.”

Thorin rolled his eyes. The King should be able to do as he wished, instead he was constrained by seemingly endless rules.

“We have much to discuss, cousin,” Dain said, loading his plate with slabs of meat. “You can chase unattainable women some other time.”

Thorin frowned at the King of the Iron Hills. “Are you implying I do not know how to court a woman?”

Dain chuckled. “No, I am implying you would be wasting your time. Look at her, what would a beauty like that want with you?”

Realizing he was being teased, Thorin punched his cousin in the shoulder then turned his attention to the meal before him. As the feast wore on, Thorin spent much time in conversation with Dain, and also with Bard, who took Balin’s place beside him. There was much to be settled before the winter arrived. Throughout the night Thorin looked often for Kaylea, their eyes met briefly a few times but they did not speak. He saw her talking to Dwalin and Gloin, then she moved to the other table to sit with Elrohir. Dain asked him about why he had ended up hiring a hobbit and he got very involved telling the story. When he looked for Kaylea he saw she was gone. As he finished his story he continued to look around the room but did not see her. She must have slipped away.

Thorin leaned back, putting his hand on his side. “I am feeling this wound tonight.”

“You have only been one day out of bed,” Balin said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “No one will blame you for leaving the table early.”

Thorin nodded and glanced up at the still crowded tables. The great hall was filled with music and laughter, there were many drinking games and lively conversations going on. Bofur was already dancing on a table. Nobody besides Balin even noticed when he took his leave. He made his way to the stairs that led to the gallery, his heart pounding. Tonight he was resolved to finish what he and Kaylea had started so long ago along the Brunien. He put his hand on his coat, inside his breast pocket was the flask she had given him, when they had parted on the road from Rivendell. She had promised they would finish the liquor together when they met again in Erebor, now it was time. Thorin meant to convince her to stay in Erebor with him, no matter what his cousins said.  

Turning the corner onto the gallery Thorin saw Kaylea leaning on the railing, he paused in astonishment. She had clearly been waiting for him, her hair was loose, her tunic partly unlaced. In the soft light of the hall she was a vision indeed. He drew himself up, taking a deep breath he stepped up on the archer’s step and started walking toward her. After this night Thorin’s life would be changed forever.  

Part of my collection ‘The Warrior and The King - Short Reads’ on AO3, read the rest of the stories there. 

@fizzyxcustard

[leviloveslemonpledge]

hi! Idk if you’re taking requests are not but if you are I’d like to make a request where the reader gets kidnapped by Kenny because Levi and the reader have been friends since they were kids and secretly have feelings for each other. I LOVE YOUR WRITING

I am so flattered!! I hope this lives up to your expectations and that you like it!

“Hey, have you two ever heard  of Kenny the Ripper?”

“Yeah, but I thought he was just an urban legend.”

“No, he’s real alright. I grew up with him.”

“Very funny, sir. This isn’t really the time to be making jokes.”

Only, he wasn’t joking. You stare at Levi’s stern profile from your perch by the chimney. Moments ago he’d been focused on the wagon, what is he bringing this up for? And how had he not mentioned this Kenny person in all the years you’ve known each other? Lost in your thoughts, you don’t notice the man silently crawling up onto the roof. 

“Nifa!” Levi shouts to warn her while launching himself towards you. A loud percussive sound rings through your ears as Nifa’s brains get blown to tiny, bloody bits. You watch in horror as her lifeless corpse slides off the roof. 

“Hey! Y/N!” He grabs your chin and turns you away from the gruesome scene. “Focus.”

Behind him you notice a tall, lanky man reloading what appears to be a large gun attached to ODM gear. Levi takes a protective stance in front of you, pushing you back closer to the chimney.

“Levi, it’s been a while. Still a runt or have you grown some?”

Levi let’s out a low growl and nudges you further back as the man approaches. He fires off another round aimed directly at Levi’s head, which he easily evades. You, unfortunately, aren’t so lucky. A large chunk of debris from the chimney strikes you on the side of the head with enough force to knock you unconscious. You tumble down onto a tall cart below, blood covering your face and the right side of your uniform.

Levi’s eyes widen slightly, but he has little time to check on your condition, and from where he’s standing, it definitely doesn’t look good. His glare intensifies, old hatred for the man who abandoned him rises to the surface, intermingled with newfound rage at the massacre of the soldiers under his command and his oldest friend. 

“Well, shit, did I just kill your little girlfriend? Too bad, let’s not let it spoil the reunion. Let me get a good look at ya!”

Levi’s anger erupts in a roar, followed by a blade being thrown at high speed towards his target. “Kenny!”

More and more soldiers show up, all equipped with the same weapons and ODM gear, and Levi quickly realizes he’s being overwhelmed. He sends a pained glance in your direction, taking in your broken state for what might be the last time, silently apologizing and hoping you’ll somehow end up alright, before taking off in a desperate escape for his life.

You open your eyes a crack, not quite fully conscious but in the process of getting your bearings when you notice there’s a gun to your head.

“This one’s still breathing, sir. Should I take care of it?”

“Hang on, Caven, I think we might be able to have a little fun with this one.”

When you open your eyes again, you find yourself in a dark room with a low burning fire, sitting across from the man who killed your team. Ignoring the throbbing pain in your skull, you immediately spring into action... only to realize that you are not only heavily restrained, but also completely unarmed. 

“Shit.” You set your jaw and glare at the soldiers around you as you assess the situation. You’re on your own. Unarmed. Outnumbered. Possibly presumed dead by those remaining from your team. And yet for some reason, you’re still alive. You’re wanted for something, but what that is is unclear.

“What do you want?”

“Well, hi there, I’m Kenny, nice to meetcha. Your manners are kind of shit, aren’t they? Didn’t anyone ever teach you to say hello? Here I thought we could have a chat.”

“You’ll have to excuse me, it’s not every day you watch your comrades’ heads being blown off and nearly dying yourself. It’s been a bit of an off day.”

“You really shouldn’t be dragging the past with you, that’s just petty.”

Closing your eyes, you summon all your patience. He wants to chat, fine, you’ll chat.

“Alright, we’ll do things your way. Hello, I’m Y/N, though I can’t really say it’s been nice to meet you. What did you want to talk about?”

He lets out a low chuckle and a big, goofy grin spreads across his face.

“See? Was that so hard? Now we’re getting somewhere. I’ll ignore the sass, for now, it works on ya.”

He scoots closer to you. The blonde woman in the corner, the same one who pointed a gun to your head earlier, advances towards the two of you ever so slightly, her hand carefully positioned on her weapon, ready to strike. No funny business, then.

“So now...” He leans in, face a few mere inches away from your own, eyes ablaze with reflected light from the fire, his grin ever growing. That, combined with what you assume is an impending interrogation make him appear like something straight out of a nightmare. Still, you refuse to back down or show any fear. You stare him dead in the eye, mentally preparing yourself for whatever comes next. 

“You and the runt, huh? I can see why he likes ya, but why is a pretty girl like you hanging around with a shrimp like him for?”

You blink twice, mouth agape, opening, and closing but no words coming out. This is definitely not what you were expecting. He starts to laugh, nearly falling over himself in the process, and you feel your face grow hot. 

“Shit, don’t tell me it was supposed to be a secret!”

“I... we aren’t... we’re friends.”

He stops laughing, suddenly serious, and squints at you.

“You mean after all this time neither of ya have had the guts to tell the other how ya feel? Well, shit, that just ain’t right. You’ve known each other for how long? Twenty years? More? Damn it.”

He lets out a deep breath and mumbles some kind of apology to... Kuchel?

“Listen up, kiddo, because I’m only going to say this once. That boy loves you. He’s always loved you. He may not have said it, but damn is he ever obvious with his actions. I know I’m hard on him, but he’s a good kid, a real catch. He’s strong, too. He’d make ya real happy.”

He hides his face with his brimmed hat, or tries to, but you can see a lot of muddled emotions in his eyes. Pride. Shame. Sadness. Regret, perhaps. His and Levi’s relationship must be...complicated. Maybe that’s why he’s never brought it up before.

“Alright, alright. That’s enough of this old man blabbering on. You’re probably sick of it by now. Go on, get out of here.” He stands. “Let her loos, Caven.”

“But, sir...” She scowls at you, raising her gun.

“You really gunna make me repeat myself, Caven?”

“No, I just think this is a bad idea.”

“Yeah, well, nobody asked you, did they.”

Her grip tightens around her gun, then she holsters it. She forces an empty burlap sac over your head and lifts you to your feet by your armpits. She drags you unceremoniously through all manner of twists and turns, before finally removing the sac and releasing you in the middle of the city. You wander aimlessly, searching for something familiar, your dizziness only making your disorientation worse.  

“Captain!”

Levi doesn’t even bother to look up from his conversation with Dimo Reeves. 

“What is it?”

“It’s Y/N! I found her wandering around outside!” Sasha guides you through the dimly lit warehouse, towards the small group clustered around the bonfire. Levi rises, not sure how to respond to Sasha’s words. It isn’t until you walk into the light and he sees your face that he feels relief wash over him. He quickly crosses over to you, shoving Sasha out of the way to take your face in his hands. He examines you, runs his thumb over your cheek, anything he can to prove to himself that this is real; that you’re alive and relatively unharmed. The tenderness you see in his eyes erases any doubts you had about what Kenny said. You bring your forehead to his, taking full advantage of this moment: his skin, his smell, his warmth, his touch... Slowly, tentatively, you close the gap between your lips, half of you expressing all the pent up feelings you’ve been keeping to yourself for so long now, and the other half completely terrified that he’ll push you away. Instead, he pulls you closer, accepting your feelings, reciprocating them. You’re alive. You’re back. He has a second chance to tell you everything he’s ever wanted to say, and do everything he’s ever wanted to do. He relishes the feel of your body against his, thankful that someone he thought he lost forever was able to come back to him.

[p-artsypants]

Arcadia or Bust (Part 2)

Thank you all for your sweet and kind reviews! They mean a lot to me! :)

I don’t know if this is quite a story with a plot…more like a series of odd circumstances that Jim and Claire get themselves in. And Jim getting used to being himself in general. So…might be a little bit of a rough ride. Hope you enjoy anyway!

( @avannak )

AO3 | FF.net

—

After sunset, Jim and Claire were both awakened by shaking.

“Rise and shine, Mr. and Mrs. reconnaissance!”

“Blinky?” Jim muttered, waking up.

“It’s dark enough out that you can go up and get supplies for us to use! Come on, come on! No time to waste!”

Claire moaned and stretched her arms out, though, one was still in Jim’s grasp.

“Jim?”

“Morning,” he smiled with his sharp teeth.

“What are we…?” She glanced at her surroundings, and then at him. “Where did your armor go?”

He tapped the amulet. “Where it’s supposed to go.”

She sat up. “Was I using you as a mattress?”

“Yeah, but I wanted you to.”

Claire’s eyes widened as she blushed.

“I mean—you’ve been sleeping on rocks for a while now. I thought I might be a little softer.”

She assessed him, feeling his chest and stomach, just like she had in her sleepy state. Then she rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck. “Well, I’m not as sore. So I think it worked.” She leaned in, and kissed his nose. Then she rolled off of him, and stood. “So what are we doing?”

Jim sat up, smacking his lips. “We have to go into town, and find supplies.”

“Oh yeah, we found the stone.” Then she frowned. “You mean, I’ll be going into town, while you watch from the rooftops.”

“Sadly to say.”

Claire glanced over his new found form, instantly noticing his poorly fit clothing.

It was hard dealing with Jim’s transformation. He had struggled tremendously, and still did, to an extent. But Claire had a hard time coping as well, though she never vocalized those thoughts to him. When she told Jim she loved him, she really meant it, not just to make him feel better. She was sixteen, the time when girls start to imagine all the fun things they’ll do in the future with their husbands. Having 2.5 kids, a dog, and a white picket fence. With her love becoming a permanent half-troll, things seemed bleak. She had decidedly given up the idea of a normal marriage.

She’d never admit to anyone, but the idea of never having sex with him, because of his armor, was a real bummer.

But she had just resolved changed her mind. An ideal future with Jim might mean sleeping in caves, and eating nutri-grain bars. But as long as she was with him, it was fine.

But now, seeing the almost human skin poking out from his ripped clothes, the hope of the picket fence began to return.

“Hello? Claire?” He waved.

“Oh! Sorry!” She laughed.

“You okay? Do you need more sleep?”

“No, I’m fine.” She grinned, “I was just admiring you.”

“Me?” He asked, bewildered. “Really?”

“Yeah, you look cute. And…hot.” She added, with a blush.

“Even with the teeth?”

“Even with the teeth.”

“And the horns?”

“Especially the horns.” She reached up and took hold of one, tugging him towards her. “They make it easier to do this.” Then she stood on her tip-toes and kissed him, just long enough to urge him to kiss back. When she pulled away, his lips were still puckered between his teeth.

Then he blinked, and looked at her. “That’s…that’s the first time we’ve kissed since I transformed.”

She shrugged, looking away. “We’ve been busy.”

“Are you two ready yet!?” Blinky shouted. “We’re burning darkness here!”

Jim took Claire’s hand and together, they made their way to the surface.

New Jersey was different from Arcadia. Cooler, for one thing. At least today. They had found a service tunnel that ran under the sidewalk, and using Jim’s strength, they forced open the grate and came out into the city. They had just enough time to close the door before a group of pedestrians came around the corner. But Jim didn’t have the chance to hide. So he acted casual, hoping to pull off a costume.

It was a couple of teenagers that saw them, and as they passed, they both seemed to study Jim for a second.

“Dude, sick costume!” One said.

It worked like a charm. “Thanks!” Jim sighed.

“Are you guys going to the horror convention?” The girl asked.  

Claire muttered over to Jim. “Horror convention?”

“Uhh...yeah! Well, we’re looking for a Walmart first.”

“Well you’re going the wrong way,” the guy stepped up. “I’m Henry, by the way. This is my dear, sweet Astrid.”

“Sup?”

Jim held out his human hand. “I’m Jim, and this is my girlfriend Claire.”

Henry smiled. “Nice to know you. We’re making our way to the convention center now. If you want to come?”

“Are you entering in the costume contest? First place is 5,000 dollars!” Astrid interjected. “I bet you could win!”

5,000 dollars could get a couple of hotel rooms and decent meals for Claire. Not to mention, they could get their cart for the Heartstone. “I’m in,” Jim agreed.

“Awesome!” Said Henry. “I made a costume too, but my dad accidentally trashed it. But there’s always next year!”

The group of four made their way through the city, chatting like normal teens. Passerby stopped them every once in a while to take pictures with Jim.

After several of these, Claire sided up to him, taking his hand. “Do you think that’s a good idea?” She whispered.

“I’m not a hundred percent sure, but we need to act casual. So if people think this is a costume, then so be it.”

“So Jim,” Henry called over, interrupting their conversation. “Those horns are super cool. What are they made of?”

“Oh, uh…real horns! From a ram!”

Claire held back a snort.

“Can I touch them?”

“Yeah, just…don’t yank on them.” Jim bowed his head as his new friends all rubbed his horns, ‘ooh’ing and ‘aww’ing all the while.

Finally, they reached the hotel where the convention was being held.

“Oh, you guys don’t have passes yet, right?” Henry asked. “I think you can still get them. They’re 30 bucks for a day pass.”

Jim winced. 30 bucks each? He had the money, but if he didn’t win the contest, they wouldn’t have much left over for a cart. Claire seemed to notice this too, and nudged him. “Hey, let’s go for it. Let’s be normal kids for a while, huh?”

Jim smiled at her, taking her hand. “Yeah, normal.”

At the ticket booth, the attendee nearly jumped to his feet. “Oh man! That is an awesome costume! What are you?”

“Uh…troll. Trollhunt—…Troll knight.”

“Wicked! Are you entered in the costume contest?”

“Not yet,” Jim smiled, baring his fangs.

“I can get you signed up here. Name?”

“Jim Lake.”

“And you said you’re a Troll knight?”

“That’s right.”

The man tapped away at his iPad. “And qualifying contestants for the contest get in for free.”

“What do I need to qualify?”

The man printed out a pass and put it in a lanyard. “I’m the preliminary judge. You qualify. It’s just to keep people from mediocre costumes from entering, like obviously half-assed costumes to get in for free. Y’know?”

“Gotcha.” Jim grinned, putting on the pass.

“But it is going to be 30 bucks for the lady.”

“If only I had worn my armor.” Claire whispered.

Jim took out his wallet and handed over his card. “No worries, at least I got in.”

“Alright, you both are all set, good luck in the contest! Judging is at midnight!”  

“Thank you!” They both called. Then they met up with their new friends.

“You in, man?” Asked Henry.

“Yep! All set!”

“Awesome!” Astrid took out her phone and checked the time. “Well, it’s nine now. We have some friends here, if you want to come with us to hang out.”

Jim looked at Claire, and she looked back at him. If her face said what he thought it said, he replied, “Uh, I think we’ll catch you guys later.”

“No prob! You guys still want to go to Walmart later, right? We’ll go with you.”

“And we have to see Jim win the competition.”

“We’ll see you later, then!” And off they went.

Jim spoke once they were alone. “That is what that look meant, right?”

“Yeah, as much as I’ve missed human interaction, I also feel really gross.”

“I think you look beautiful.”

She was wearing dirty clothes, her usual jeans and t-shirt. And she hadn’t washed her hair in days. She blushed. “Thanks, Jim.”

“I’m going to call Blinky and tell him what we’re up to. If I may borrow your phone?”

“Sure,” she handed it over. “And while you do that, I’m going to go freshen up in the bathroom.” She bid him adieu by standing on her tip-toes and kissing his cheek. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Take your time, we’re in no rush.”

He unlocked her phone, and found his own picture in her contacts. The line rang twice before Blinky’s cheerful voice picked up.

“Ah Master Jim! Have you and Claire located supplies? Or perhaps a vessel to help us carry our new Heartstone?”

“Um…not quite.”

Blinky paused on the other line, then his voice took on a dangerous tone. “What happened?”

“Okay, so like…we came to the surface, and immediately these teenagers saw us.”

“Don’t tell me you killed them!”

“No! Why would—?! Look, they thought I was in costume. There’s a Horror convention going on a few blocks away, and I entered the costume contest.”

“As what?”

“As myself. Well, a ‘Troll Knight’ is what I put on the application.”

“YOU WHAT?!” Blinky yelled, as Jim moved the phone away from his ear. “How could you ever think this was a good idea!?”

“First prize is 5,000 dollars, okay? I figured if I win, I could have enough money to put Claire and I up in a hotel over night and treat her to a nice meal. Okay? Plus, we could probably buy a really sturdy cart for the stone.”

Blinky was silent, supposedly thinking. “And no one suspects you?”

“Not a bit.”

“Hmm…alright. Just, try to lay low.”

“We will, I promise.”

Right after he hung up, Clair returned. The hair around the edge of her face was wet. “You know, you really stick out. I mean, in this crowd, you still fit really well, but…I’m worried about your clothes.” She hooked a finger in his waistband a gave a gentle tug. It had no give. “Aren’t you dying? Aren’t those pants like…super tight?”

He sighed. “Yeah. I am, actually. But I figured the ripped clothes would help with the costume.”

“But didn’t you say you were a troll knight?”

“Yeah?”

“Then put your armor on! That will win the contest!”

“You think?”

“Yeah! It’s super Tron!”

Jim glanced down at himself, thinking. Some of his clothes were just hanging on by a thread. It would only take a weird, sudden movement for there to be an awkward rip in his pants.

“Yeah, the last thing I want is a Spongebob moment up on stage. We just need to find a secluded place for me to suit up.”

“The bathrooms were pretty crowded.” Claire blanched.

“Wait,” Jim spoke, staring at the stage in the middle of the convention. “I have an idea, but I need you as a lookout.”

“Lead the way.”

The duo snuck their way over to the middle of the room and Jim slipped under the cloth covered stage.

From the outside, there was a brief glow of red that blended in with the other stage lights. Then, Jim emerged again, in his armor. “Ah, much better.”

Claire gazed up at him, a look of adoration on her face.

“What?”

“I love seeing you in your armor. My knight, my prince, my Romeo.”

“Your Trollmeo,” he corrected.  

She scoffed.

“Whoa! Dude, sick costume!” A guy in a realistic Freddy Krueger costume said. “What’s that made out of? Foam?”

The question took Jim off guard, as he touched his armor. He honestly didn’t know. Some kind of metal. “Uh, real steel.”

“What?! Can I touch?” Freddy reached his claws out.

“Yeah, but if you could…not scratch it…?”

“Oh sure!”

Another cosplayer, dressed as the Creature from the Black Lagoon, approached the group and looked in awe.

“Is that like, a medieval Beast from the X-men? No, you’ve got horns…”

Freddy felt the pauldron on Jim’s shoulder. “This is amazing craftsmanship. Did you make this yourself?”

“Ah, no. A…friend did. Custom, just for me. He’s somewhat of a wizard.”

“I’ll say!” Said the Fishman.

Yet another cosplayer came into the group, this one dressed in a black leotard with white and black face paint and a spiky black wig. “And, what…or who, are you supposed to be?” Asked he.

“I’m a troll knight,” answered Jim, becoming more confident in his story.

“A troll knight? There’s no such thing.” Said the newcomer. “Besides, trolls are supposed to be big and ugly with fat noses and beady eyes. In Lord of the Rings, they’re dumb, huge, and hairless. Or the Elder Scroll Trolls, they’re more like three eyed apes.” He narrowed his eyes. “Though, I suppose you got the ugly down.”

Jim’s nose flared and he nearly snarled.

“Dude, chill.” Freddy interrupted. “It’s a costume.”

“That’s why I’m being so picky!” The other kid said. “Last year, some slut painted her body green, glued some leaves on, and called herself Poison Ivy. She won 5,000 dollars.”

Freddy Kruger and the Fishman crossed their arms. “I saw her last year,” said Freddy. “There was a lot more to the costume than that. And who cares if he’s got a different interpretation of Trolls? Dreamworks made the film about the vintage troll dolls from the 80’s! They had long fuzzy hair!”

Jim wanted to speak up, but his knee jerk reaction in arguments now was to roar and snarl, not use his wits. He was not in practice for this.  

“But that’s an established franchise! This is…a bad homestuck OC! His horns aren’t even the right color for that!”

Claire gave Jim a look, and he returned it with a shrug.

“Well,” said the Fishman, “I think your costume is dope…uh…”

“Jim.”

“Jim. You are entered in the contest, right?”

“Yep! I was basically forced into it.” He laughed.

“We are too!”

“As am I,” the rude interloper stated. “It appears as though we are opponents.”

Jim smiled, trying to stay polite and fight back the urge to let his trollish instincts take control. “Fun! What are you supposed to be?”  

“Uh, hello?! I’m Ryuk, from Death Note!?”

Jim stared blankly. “Um, I don’t know who that is.”

“Seriously?! The main Shinigami of the series? The perfect character that crosses the border of both antagonist and protagonist?! The very god of death himself!?”

“It’s an anime,” Freddy added.

“Oh, right right. I see…” Jim lied.

“Anyways,” said Ryuk, “how about you and I make things interesting?”

Jim wasn’t much of a gambling man, but the amount of praise he had received inclined him to believe the odds were in his favor. “Go on…”

“If you win, I will pay for your hotel room and a dinner at a modest restaurant. If I win, I get to destroy your costume and take your friend out on a date.”

Jim’s restraint was reached as he let out an almost tiger-like snarl. “Not on your life!”

Ryuk backed away a step. “What, are you—afraid or something?”

“Claire isn’t a possession, damnit. I will never barter her life or her time. She’s mine, so back off!!”

Claire quickly put a hand on Jim’s chest and urged him to back down. “Jim, honey, you still have that injury. Don’t exert yourself.”

As if she summoned it, a painful throb hit Jim in the chest, and he winced.

“Whoa, you okay dude?” Asked Freddy, “you want some water?”

Jim shook his head. “No, I’m fine. Just a…minor injury.” He took some stabilizing breaths and willed his troll half into submission. Then he re-engaged the enemy. “I’ll pass on that bet.”

“Oh, so you are a chicken!”

“No, I’m just not a moron.”

The other boy crossed his arms, “And I’m not either. I’ve been to hundreds of cons, and seen and smelt every unbathed human you could imagine.”

“Ew…”

“But you two…You don’t have a hotel room, or any place to stay, do you? You look like you’ve been sleeping in the woods somewhere.”

Jim frowned hard, his teeth poking his cheeks. “So what if we have? That’s none of your business.”

“I’ll pay for your hotel room and food, if you drop out of the contest all together.” He challenged.

Claire took Jim’s hand. “Don’t. Even if you don’t win, we’ll still have money to get the cart. For once, Jim, you don’t need to be the hero and protect me. Just don’t let this punk walk all over you.”

She made a good point. Jim shrugged. “You know what? If you didn’t think I was a threat, you wouldn’t have made this bet. So forget it. We need that money.”

Freddy and the Creature from the Black Lagoon stepped up and put a hand each on Jim’s shoulder.

“If I win, I’ll pay for your guy’s stay.”

“Ditto!”

“Then may the best monster win!”  

Ryuk scoffed at the others and stormed off.

Jim snorted. “What a jerk.”

“There’s always guys like that at cons.” Said the Fishman. “Guys that are ‘purist fanboys’, guys that think that girls aren’t allowed to like pop-culture like comics and video games. Basically just asshats.”

“Well, we appreciate the support back there.” Jim grinned. “But you don’t have to pay for our room…”

“Con goers get a special price for rooms here. It’s only a 75 bucks a night. That’s a drop in the bucket for a 5,000 prize.”

“Then,” Jim decided. “If I win, I’ll pay for you!”

“Too bad! We already paid! Guess you just have to accept charity!”

The rest of the con went much smoother. The cosplayers went their separate ways, all enjoying the con at their own pace. Sometimes they’d bump into Henry and Astrid, or Freddy and Fishman.

And for just a few hours, Jim could pretend to be normal.

“You seem pretty chipper.” Claire noted, “don’t relax too much, or your armor is going to disappear.”

“It’s weird how much you forget in a month.” Jim replied. He was looking at Astrid and Henry as they gushed over dragon figurines on a booth. “I’ve spent the last few weeks in the darkness, in caves and sewers, protecting Trolls. I almost forgot that I protect the humans as well.”

“And you did, from Gunmar and Morgana.” Claire assured.

“I just…this is nice.”

Claire’s hand was in his, her thumb rubbed over his knuckles. “We should see what life is like in Arcadia. Maybe people remember the attack. Maybe you won’t have to hide.”

Jim didn’t answer initially, but then finally said. “Except from the sun.”

Finally, 11:45 rolled around. Claire caught up with Astrid and Henry, while Jim went up to the stage with Freddy and Fishman. Ryuk lurked in the background, glaring daggers at Jim.

“Wow! What a great turn out!” The announcer called on stage.

The hall was alive with cheers.

“And we have a lot of contestants in the cosplay contest this year! All competing for that sweet, sweet moola. 5,000 bucks! Cash!”

Somebody whistled.

“But you’re not all gathered here to hear me talk, so without further adieu…Jason McHaughtly as Jason Voorhees!”

There was about 20 contestants. Some had better costumes than others. Others…not so much.

“Ian Reese as Ryuk from Death Note.”

The kid that had harassed Jim earlier walked out on stage, standing ramrod straight. Whether it was stage fright or just an attempt to be creepy was unknown.

There was a polite round of applause.

“Jim Lake, as a ‘Troll Knight’.”

Jim could have simply walked out on stage, but he was in it to win it. So he ran out on stage, did a cartwheel, flipped in the air, landed in a crouch and unsheathed his sword, spinning it in a flurry of twirls. He ended in a fighting pose.

“That’s my man!” Claire shouted over the crowd.

With his advanced hearing, he could just barely hear her.

Jim sheathed his sword and began to walk off stage, when he was suddenly tackled from behind. For being kind of chubby, Ryuk was awfully nimble, as he clambered up on Jim’s back.

“This was my year! I was going to win!” He shouted, yanking on Jim’s horns.

Obviously, they weren’t going to come off, but it was still painful.

“Ouch! Dude! Get off!” Jim reached back and removed the pest with one hand, even as Ryuk held fast to his horns. Jim’s short fuse had reached it’s end as he tore the kid off and easily threw him into the crowd.

An animalistic roar tore from his throat, echoing in the hall.

The audience was silent, before they erupted in deafening cheers.

Jim took several panting breaths, before calming down and smiling awkwardly. Then he hustled off stage and out of the limelight.

“Wow, that’s going to be hard to beat!”

Jim peeked out from behind the curtain, trying to spy the kid he threw. He looked fine, but he was off to the side having a chat with the hotel security.

Jim hoped this wasn’t going to backfire on him.

He watched the rest of the competition from backstage. Everyone else was a lot calmer.

“Hey,” Freddy whispered. “That was awesome! How did you do that roar? Is it like, a speaker?”

“Uh…no, actually. I really am a troll.”

Freddy smiled. “Oh nice, this really isn’t a costume either. I really am a burn victim.”

After a pause, the two snickered.

“Alright, if we could have all the contestants come back out, please.”

Jim and Freddy stood next to each other.

“Good luck,” Jim whispered.

“Nah, you got this in the bag.”

The announcer looked at the card. “And third place, winning the 1,000 dollar prize is…Logan Garfield as Freddy Kruger!”

Jim gave him a friendly pat on the back as Logan gave him a thumbs up and accepted his reward.

“Second place, with the 2,000 dollar prize…Luna Nox as the Creature from the Black Lagoon!”

“Yes!” Jim heard his new friend cheer from the other end of the stage.

“And finally, our first place winner…”

—

Jim, Claire, and a small group of new friends walked down the sidewalk together. They had met up in the hotel lobby, and things quickly got weird once Freddy and Fishman showed up out of costume. Now Jim was the odd one out, though he had found a secluded place to get out of his armor.

“Even if you hadn’t won, I’m sure you easily could have sold that costume for 5,000 dollars.” Henry determined.

Jim had been handed a fat stack of hundreds, which was a good thing in the long run. He didn’t know what he would do if it had been a check. Once he and Claire had had their fun fanning themselves with the cash, he had stashed the money inside his breastplate for safe keeping. When he had dissolved his armor, the money went with it, only leaving 300 bucks for groceries and their room behind in his wallet.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to sell it, you dig?”

The group was making their way to a 24-hour pizza joint for a celebratory dinner, and then to Walmart. After, they’d return to the hotel, where Jim and Claire would spend the day.

Jim bumped his girl’s side. “You doing okay?”

“I’m wonderful,” she smiled at him. “Especially since we’re about to get pizza!”

“It’ll be nice to have a real meal, uh?”

“Yeah,” then she met his eyes. “But Jim, please don’t feel bad. I wanted to come with you, and I knew the circumstances.”

His hand rested on her waist as he gently pulled her to him. “I know…I just want to take care of you.”

They were getting away from downtown now. There were houses all closely gathered together, with wire fences.

Almost immediately, Jim halted.

“What is it?” Claire asked.

Everyone else stopped, wondering what the hold up was.

Jim’s gaze was locked on a ‘For Sale’ sign on a blue pick-up truck. One that looked like it had some lifting power. The price was 2,000 dollars.

“Claire.” He said, pointing at it. “How much weight do you think that truck can carry?”

A smiled stretched over her face. “Probably a boulder that weighs a metric ton.” She took out her phone and snapped a picture of the truck, and then the house it was in front of. “This would be better than a cart.”

“What are you guys carrying?” Henry asked.

“Uh…a rock.”

“A crystal, to be precise. We’re geo-nerds.”

“Like a quartz?”

“Yep! Exactly! A big ole quartz we found.” Despite finding strength in his new form, Jim was still an awkward teenage boy. Luckily, no one noticed.

“Well, if you guys need help loading it, just let us know.” Freddy offered.

“Oh, thanks! That’s so kind!” Claire smiled. They had plenty of help from the Trolls, but it was a nice gesture.

—

Dinner went well, as the kids chowed down on pizza, and Jim snuck a fork when no one was looking. After, Freddy and Fishman bid them adieu and returned to the hotel, while Jim, Claire, Astrid, and Henry went to Walmart.

“I’m surprised you didn’t take your costume off at the hotel,” Astrid noted. “It must be uncomfortable.”

“Well, actually…I can’t take it off yet.” Jim lied, “I used a super powerful glue, and it’s going to take a while before I can take my horns off. And my skin is just stained.”

It was obvious that they didn’t believe him, but they thankfully didn’t press it. “Don’t you have a change of clothes?”

“Nope! That’s why we’re going to Walmart!”

At the store, the group split. Astrid and Henry going for food, while Claire and Jim went to clothes.

“So I’m thinking long sleeves and long pants are going to be important. Maybe something with a hood. We’ll have to cut holes in it, though.” Said Claire, looking at a clearance rack.

“The more I’m protected from the sun, the better.”

“I don’t want you to get overheated though…”

“I won’t. Don’t worry.” He shrugged, flipping through the sweatshirts. “I don’t get cold or hot anymore.”

Claire half-smiled. “Must be convenient.” She pulled a pair of sweatpants off the rack. “Do you think these are big enough?” She held them up to his waist.

“It won’t hurt to try them on.”

Jim went up six sizes in pants, and he went from a medium to a XL in shirts. To say it was weird was an understatement.

Currently, he wore a black T with a skull on it that Claire had picked out, a red zip-up with thumb-holes, gray sweats, and cheap, size 13 wide sneakers. “I feel like an emo.”

Claire almost had stars in her eyes. “You look perfect.”  

He chuckled, “well, as long as I’m covered, I don’t care. Did you find a few things?”

“If we stop at the laundromat before we leave, I’ll be fine with just these.” She held up a pair of black sweatpants, something comfier to sleep in than jeans.

“Awesome. Snacks?”

“Snacks.”

—

The sun was just barely starting to poke over the corner when they returned to the hotel and got a room. Once inside, Claire dropped all the supplies on the floor as she resisted on leaping on the bed.

“I’m going to take a shower, immediately.” She stated. “I can’t wait to sleep in a nice warm bed.”

“Go for it, if I may use your phone?”

She handed it to him, then found her new pajamas in their bags.

As the bathroom door closed, Jim called Blinky and found the hidden bag of groceries he had purchased without telling Claire.

“Ah, Master Jim. We were beginning to wonder when you would call. What became of the costume contest?”

“I won! We got 5,000 bucks.”

“Wonderful! I assume at least. And what of the cart?”

Jim set the avocados, veggies, and spices on the counter. It had been a while since he had made anything, but the muscle memory was there. “We found something even better. There’s a truck for sale just down the road, and it’s in our price range.”

“Excellent! What is...a truck?”

“You’ve seen them. It’s like a car, but the back is like a cart, and people put stuff in them.”

“Oh yes! Now I understand. You think that will be strong enough? It is quite the hefty stone.”

“I think we can get it. The thing is, a truck is a lot faster than Trolls. So some of us will get back before the others. I’m the one who knows how to operate it, and I think Claire and Merlin should come as well, since they’re human and will need to sleep and eat.”

“I see.” Blinky paused. “We will discuss this among the group. For now, just secure the vehicle.”

“We will, later in the day. Talk to you later.” Jim hung up, and finished mixing the guacamole. He munched on the spoon idly as he set the bowl and tortilla chips on the table.

Then he poked through the items he bought, finding soap and shampoo, toothbrush and toothpaste, clean socks and underwear, and a wide hairbrush. He might have been a troll, but he wasn’t a wild animal.

The bathroom door opened in a billow of steam.

“Ahh…” said Claire. “I’ve never felt so clean in my life.”

Jim gathered his belongings. “Then it’s my turn.” He kissed her cheek as he passed. He got a whiff of her smell and almost went back to kiss her again.

“Jim!” She shouted.

“Hmm?”

“Did you make me guacamole!?”

He grinned. “Maybe.”

He could have sworn there were tears in her eyes. “Thank you, you’re so good to me.”

“I try.”

In the bathroom, Jim stripped and climbed into the shower. It was a weird moment remembering that the temperature of the water didn’t bother him. He felt it more on some of his more human parts, like his chest and his five fingered hand.

He lathered up well, using the loofa he bought as well.

It was like scrubbing a rock. He couldn’t exactly tell when he was clean, but he did his best. His horns got in the way as he shampooed his hair and scruff, but he made sure they got cleaned as well.

Finally, he decided he was done and dried off, rubbing the towel frantically through his hair. It fluffed up, and made him look wild. He brushed his teeth and then combed through his mane.

When he emerged, Claire was laying on her stomach on the bed, idly watching cartoons.

“There’s my fluffy boy.” She grinned, seeing him without his shirt.

“I tried to comb it out.”

“Come here,” she urged, sitting up.

Jim sat on the floor by her feet.

The brushing felt nice. Not so much the brush itself, but the way Claire’s hand ran over the hair after.

“So…” she began. “What are we?”

Jim was confused, and turned slightly to give her a look, but she forced him to sit straight. “I thought we were boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“Still?”

The question had hurt a little, honestly.

“You’ve…we’ve been kind of distant. I thought things…had changed.”

He curled in on himself a little. “I didn’t know if you would think it was weird…I’m not exactly human anymore.”

“No, no you’re not.” She agreed.

He looked at his hands. “I still love you, I’m just scared.”

She finished brushing out his hair and allowed him to move. He stayed on the ground, kneeling in front of her.

“You’ve never said you loved me before.”

Jim opened his mouth to speak, but then shut it, frowning hard.

“Are you scared of me?”

He didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no either.

She reached out and held his face with her hands. “Jim, I told you before, whatever you are…I love you. Please, don’t pull away from me.”

She watched his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard.

She continued, “My life was…boring without you. I thought a play was important! But since I met you, my life has been nothing but adventure. Even our dullest days are exciting, because you’re here.”

He shook his head as his eyes started to water. “I tried my damnedest to impress you.” His voice broke, “I did the play because I was crushing on you. And I was so hoping to get the girl in the end…but…” A few tears escaped, as he sniffed. “I can’t.”

“You can, and you have.” She pulled him closer by the horns. “Because unless you tell me to leave, I will stay by your side.” She brushed his tears away with her thumbs. “So don’t cry, Trollhunter. Your sacrifices weren’t in vain.”

He nodded, rising to his feet. He scooped Claire up, holding her to him close as she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.

Finally, he laid her down on the bed, giving her a cute kiss to the forehead. He climbed up on the bed with her, and reclined on his side, looking at her.

And in the quiet moment of serenity, the two just looked at each other. With their souls this time, looking past outside appearances and just living in the moment. For words were not enough to convey what needed to be said.

Still, something nagged at Claire’s mind, and she sat up, crossing her legs.

“So, I…I actually meant something else when I asked what we were,” she began. “My parents kind of figured if I was leaving with you, that meant…well, when we came back…we’d be married.”

His eyebrows rose. “Oh.”

“Yeah…”

His lower lip stuck out, a quizzical look. “We’re kind of young, don’t you think?”

She leaned back on her arms. “Yeah, I suppose. But the thing is…I can’t see myself with anyone else. I’ve crushed on and dated a handful of guys…and none of them are like you.”

“As far as we know, I’m the only half-troll in the world.” He giggled.

Claire hit him with a pillow. “That’s not what I meant! You’re just putting words in my mouth!”

“That’s not the only thing I’m going to put in your mouth.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Two could play at this game, “oh yeah, and what’s that? Hmm?”

He hadn’t expected her to call him on his bluff. “Uhh…my…tongue?”

She giggled. “Ooo, risky!”

His nostrils flared. “What were you saying about me being different?”

She sobered, and leaned closer to him. “No one, not a single man I’ve met in my life, was willing to sacrifice what you did. You risked not only your life, but everything else you had to save my baby brother from the Darklands. You came for me in the void…Then…you gave up your body…your freedom…to save us. You could have just risked it, but you made the extra decision to ensure we were safe.”

He looked up at her with his blue, blue eyes. “I had to Claire. I…I couldn’t just…”

She cupped his face. “You are fantastic, and lovely, and wonderful. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, my Romeo.”

Jim tugged on her, pulling her to him. He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly. He nuzzled his nose in her hair, breathing in her shampoo. “And I want you, too.” Then he leaned in and kissed her tenderly. When he pulled away, he smiled at her warmly. “I want to make sure I can take care of you, though. I don’t want our married life to be remembered by sleeping on hard rocks and not bathing for weeks.”

“I mean…”

“I know you can handle it.” He interjected. “But I can’t. I can’t handle seeing you uncomfortable. You deserve the very best.” He ran his fingers through her hair. “So, when we return to Arcadia…I’m going to make us a home in Troll market. Then I will ask, officially. I’ll get permission and everything.”

Claire smiled, her cheeks hurting. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He kissed her, slow and deep, making her toes curl. She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her fingers in his still damp hair as his hands ran over her body.

Claire’s heart thudded in her chest and Jim teased her with his tongue, and idly played with the waistband of her pants.

She tugged on his horn, pulling him even closer and returning his kiss with vigor.

They pulled apart, resting their foreheads together.

“I told you—“

“Yeah, yeah.” She giggled. “I liked it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she pecked him gently.

“Even with the teeth?”

She snickered. “Even with the teeth.”

“And the horns?”

She tugged on them. “What do you think?”

[bethelstavern]

Chapter 2: The Strange Marquesss

Elaine had left early when the sun was still rising and by the time she got to the knight’s home the sun was sitting at it’s highest point. The knight’s home was located a little far off from the main town and Elaine herself was shocked that there would be a home there at all. The carriage had stopped, Elaine was shocked at the state of the manor. It might’ve been as large as the William’s estate, but it was overrun with tall weeds and overgrown shrubs. The manor itself appeared abandoned with the paint peeling and cracking.

Elaine was hesitant to step off the carriage, but the coachman seemed annoyed already at the fact that he was sent so far off from town. Elaine asked him to wait for her before entering the estate.

The estate lacked any fencing so she made her way to the door. The floorboards of the stairs were old and molding. She knocked once with no answer and then twice again. It was only on her fourth attempt before she planned to walk away that the door opened.

It was an older man, thin with greying hair. He wore the standard butler’s clothing. “Oh, a visitor!”

His eyes seemed to perk up. “How can I help my dear?”

“I’m looking for a Sir Charmichael Leon.” Elaine said, hoping the man had not moved houses, but it could be possible.

“Well, you’ve come to the right house, please come follow me to the sitting room and I will go fetch the Marquess.” The butler gestured for Elaine to enter. The manor was much like the outside. The curtains were drawn making the corridors dark. The house seemed like nobody actually stayed there. The sitting room where the butler had left her was the same. The couches were dusty and in the corner a vase a wilted flowers sat.

It seemed like forever until Elaine heard voices spilling from the corridor. “I can’t believe you let her in.”

“Well, sir. It will be good for you.” The butler retorted. Elaine had never heard a butler speak to his master in such a way and if they did they would receive lashings accordingly.

The man that entered was large not in that he was fat, but rather tall and heavily built. His head seemed to almost reach the top of the archway and his shoulders seemed to be able to carry boulders. He seemed older too, with greying hair and grey tired eyes to match. He wore a simple tunic and trousers similar to what the gardeners would wear to work.

“May I introduce, Marquess Charmichael Leon and this Lady Elaine.” The butler said. As soon as he introduced them to each other he quickly left the room, but Elaine knew from her work as a maid he was likely lurking nearby.

The large man sat down on a worn down arm chair perfect for his large size. “I’m sorry to inform you, but my son, Sir Charmichael Leon is not at the estate at the moment. In fact, he rarely visits here.”

“Ah well,” Elaine hesitated. She was a bit disappointed to find the Marquess instead of his son, but she refused to go back empty handed. “Is there anyway I can make contact with your son?”

“Well, you see, that boy is rather sporadic. He tends not to stay in one location too long.” Wrinkles seemed to appear on the Marquess’s face when thinking about his son. Elaine wondered in the back of her mind what was the story behind that.

“Hmm. Well, if it’s of importance, I can relay it to my son when he returns.”

“If you simply tell him that I would like to speak to him after he returns. I work at the William’s residence, so if he sends a letter I can meet him.” Elaine was hesitant to give any information, and even if she did want to tell him she couldn’t tell the Marquess who the sent the message. A talking lily?!

“I can do that at the very least for you coming out this far.” The Marquess chuckled getting up from his seat. 

“Thank you, Marquess.” Elaine said getting up from her seat also. It seemed like she couldn’t  do anything until the younger Leon had returned from her travels. Though it might continue to bother her, she could at least tell the prince something. 

“Let me show you out then. Do you have a carriage to take you back to town?” The Marquess asked. He was particularly polite despite his appearance.

“Yes, thank you, though, Marquess.” 

“Ah,” Elaine stopped in her tracks. Maybe the Marquess knew of the Izian family. She wasn’t familiar with the name and guessed that it was family name that disappeared long before she came to town. “Are you familiar with Izian?”

The Marquess froze. The air seemed to change. 

“How do you know that name, young lady.”

“I-”

The Marquess turned and suddenly Elaine was surrounded by a darkness she had never known. Something darker than a starless night. The air changed too. The air became cold and time seemed to freeze.

“How do you know that name.” The voice asked low. It was voice that rain chills down Elaine’s spine. Suddenly the man who asked her just a few moments ago if she had a carriage home grew in size. It didn’t take a lot to know she was in serious danger. She couldn’t keep this a secret if she was dead. “Why are you looking for my son. Who sent you?” The man hissed. Elaine could feel an invisible blade against her throat. What kind of mess had she stumbled upon. 

“I-” Elaine stuttered. She wanted to explain, but fear seemed to be choking her.  “If you don’t speak now, I will make sure you never speak again.” The man said as the blade pressed against her skin even more.

“The man who sent me,” Elaine tried desparetly to slow down her breathing. “He-he was cursed by the Izian family. He sent me to look for your son Sir Charmichael Leon to see if he could lift the curse.”

“Prince Azure?”The blade seemed to lift from her throat and the darkness recede. Elaine breathed in a breath.

“Sir?” Elaine turned to see the butler standing there carrying a silver tray filled small little biscuits and a cup of tea. 

“It’s nothing Antoine. I deeply apologize, Lady Elaine. My actions were extreme, but hopefully I can explain why I reacted in such a way.” The Marquess seemed to age by ten years. Elaine was too stunned to protest. She reached for her throat. She swore she could as if a knife cut through her but she could feel nothing different about her neck. She followed the Marquess back to the sitting room, but this time he remained standing. Antoine, the butler, began poking at the fire trying to start it. Elaine wondered if he felt the cold that had surrounded her only minutes ago.

“Could you please explain the whole story?” Elaine hesitated. Would this man kill her if she spoke the whole story.

The Marquess sighed seeing her hesitation. “Now, I understand why you’re hesitant, so I will speak first of what I know. The Izian family was one of the five great families that first established the kingdom after the 10 year war. The Vermillion, Silvers, Sage, Amber, and finally Izian’s.” Strange. Elaine had grew in a small town, west of the capitol, but every child under the domain of the Silver’s kingdom knew of the families, but they were taught there were only four. “Marquess, I did not have a luxurious capitol education, but if I recall correctly, there are only four great blessed families.”

“Yes, well, that’s what they started to teach after the second great war. Only a few remember the Izian family and only a handful speak about it. ” The Marquess said stroking his beard.

“The crowned prince of the Silver family went missing and the circumstances to this day are unclear. The perpetrators, however, were linked to the Izian family. They were charged for their crime and their whole family was massacred and erased from history.” 

“Erased from history?”Elaine cried. “Isn’t that a bit extreme?”

“I thought it was strange too. After all these years, its still all so unclear. Why was the punishment so harsh as to erase a whole family and also where the prince was. But now you come here saying he’s still alive and has been cursed this whole time?” The Marquess finally looked at her, his eyes searching fo rthe answer.

Elaine told him of his encounter and what the prince had told her to the best of her ability. She also explained why she had been looking for his son.

He chuckled. “A flower, aye? What a strange curse, though it sounds like the workings of the Izian family.”

“Well, in any case, I do believe you’re not looking for my son, but me. Before the king made me a marquess, I was a knight and a close confidant of the prince. A few days before he had disappeared, he wanted to meet, but before he could tell me he disappeared without a trace...”

“It couldn’t have been a coincidence.” Elaine thought out loud.

“Yes, no one thought so either...” The Marquess voiced trailed off. A moment passed before he spoke again. 

“I’m sorry to say, that is all I know about the curse. I don’t know much about its details. The thing I don’t understand is why House William’s has the flower. It’s a bit strange. I’m not familiar with the house myself. What can you tell me about them?”

“I’ve only worked for them for under a year, and my particular duties don’t involve close proximity to the Earl and countess. But from how they treat the workers, they seem like good people. Nobody really complains about them. The countess always has guest over while the duke is known to keep to himself. Their son was sent away at a young age to study in the north, but recently came back so not a lot is known about him except a few rumors going around the maids.”

“Interesting...” The Marquess said, his eyes focused on the fire the crackled nearby. Antoine came back with a cart with tea pot and cups. He served the tea and offered one to Elaine which she gladly excepted. Elaine peeked through the windows and noticed that the sky had turn a grey color with heavy clouds.

“Antoine, what do you know of the House Williams.” Marquess asked as plopped three cubes of sugar into it.

“Hmm, well not much. I believe House William is a new house. If my memory serves right, I believe the Earl gained his title around the time the young Lord was born.” Antoine said as he collected the dishes. Thunder clapped outside warning of a impending storm. Elaine peaked outside. The sky had turned dark while the trees outside began to sway from the winds that had picked up.

“It seems I might have to head out soon, Marquess Leon.” Elaine said. 

“I think it’s best if you stay the night. I believe the winds and rain will pick up.” The Marquess said. “Yes, my lord. The bedroom has already been prepared.”

“Oh, I couldn’t. My carriage man is still waitng.” Elaine protested. It would be dangerous to spend the night at a strangers home let alone the Marquess Leon who could turn deadly at any moment.

“Not to worry, I sent him home already as soon as you arrived.” Antoine said smilingly as he gestured her to follow her. Elaine could do nothing but follow him. 

The room the butler lead her to was surprisingly well decorated and clean compared to the dust filled house. Elaine was surprised. Antoine seemed to notice and chuckled. “A nice change from the rest of the house. Despite the size of the manor, the Marquess only keeps a few staff so cleaning the entire manor isn’t really an feasible. And its rare to have visitors so there’s really no point. You actually caught the Marquess on a good month. Usually, the Marquess spends his time at the west.”Antoine explained. His eyes were soft as if speaking about an old friend.

The room was brightly lit with several windows across the room. It was decorated with glass furniture ornated with gold details. The bed was a grand with soft looking linens that had intricately fabricated embroidery. It was much different than the maids quarters she stayed. 

“Alright, I’ll let you get settled. I’ll call you when dinner is ready.” Antoine left, leaving Elaine to her own thoughts. It was strange, as the winds roared outside, it reminded her of the day she stumbled upon the cursed prince. Her life had become less quiet. She wondered how much more will her life change and how long will it be before it turns quiet once more.

[corinnamamameya]

((Pictures Edited By: @lindamonroe))

"Okay, Coco Bean... No peeking!" Mollie would say as I followed her while being blindfolded by her hand. I was on a date...we were on a date..I felt giddy and nervous all in one. My sense were in overdrive from not being able to see. I heard the grass crunch under our shoes, and once in a while the snap of a twig under my boot or hers. The sound of grasshoppers off in the distance playing their song in peace, here I thought they would be hibernating or something with the cold but I guess not. We walked in silence I don't know how long it felt like forever...I finally broke the silence "Can I open my eyes yet? I wanna see, how about a hint pleeeease molliiiiie?" Maybe my cuteness would get me some answers as she guided me to stop. I could hear her laugh in return, before replying. "Patience Coco Bean, keep those eyes closed, and don't move until I say when, okay?" Damn cuteness charm ineffective, but I kept my eyes closed giving an evident pout "Okay, okaaaay." I'd say, keeping my eyes closed as she removed her hand. I could hear her walking off then silence. I'm sure most would have been worried at something like that but Mollie wasn't the type to leave someone out in the woods! "Mollie...?" I'd whisper shifting from one foot to the other, now even more tempted to open my eyes.

Before a mini freak out could assume from yours truly I'd hear her let out a soft chuckle "Okay when!" she'd say. My eyes snapped open, blinking them a few times so they could adjust to my surroundings. Finally, as everything came into view I took in the sights of a makeshift tent, right in the center of the secluded area we stood in, lite by the moon, stars, and fireflies themselves. The area looked so tranquil and magnificent, with the grasshopper's song playing in the background, it felt magical. It was like a scene from those romantic films, where you're like that would so not happen in reality. But nope there it was standing right smack dab in the front of me. What do you say to someone who took time out of their day to set all this up?! Thank you, just didn't cut it. I'd crouch for a moment to look inside the tent, seeing plush pillows and tiny lanterns lighting the inside. I grinned like a dork, looking from Mollie to the setup and back again. Deciding a response was in order at this point, how long had I'd just been standing in silence. Clearing my throat as I stood back up "Mollie.. It's freaking gorgeous! I don't wanna be lame... and cry on our first date but..no ones ever done anything like this... I love it!" stupid tears starting to fall as I finished, I'd wipe at my face quickly She'd smirk "Don't get sappy on me now Coco Bean." she'd tease, and pull me into a tight hug "Come on, no tears. I want you to be all smiles tonight."

I'd giggle, hugging her back just as tight giving her neck a soft nuzzle "You're right...thank you!" I'd pull back beaming at her "It's an awesome surprise!" "That's not all." she grinned, while taking my hand urging me to follow. Giggling again I'd follow after her. "Oh?" I questioned, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. If we somehow managed a second date I wanted to do something just as special, my mind running through ideas, not realizing we had reached our destination until practically colliding with Mollie's back "Oop! sorry!" smiling meekly, before looking around. We were on a bridge, shrubbery lined along it and out ahead a clear view of the lake, the moon's ray making it shimmer as if jewels lined the bottom. Fireflies danced among themselves along the water, making the lake's surface glimmer even more. Further out trees circled the area, and an abandoned boat bobbed along the river's gentle push. I stood in awe, nature was just on Mollie's side this day it felt and looked so surreal. I stepped ahead, slowly afraid to break the magic.

"Can we..sit?" asking as I continued to gawk. I wish I had a camera to capture the moment before me, but since I didn't I'd just have to soak in every detail through memory. "Of course Coco." Mollie would say already taking a seat behind me, and getting herself situated first before taking my hand yet again easing me down to join her. I could feel my cheeks heat up even against the cold air as I rested against her lap. Being so close was still foreign to me with her, nothing bad just that butterflies feeling as if they'll explode from your stomach. I didn't want to spoil anything or come off too strong or move to fast. Just nice and slow. We sat in silence enjoying the view and each others company, somewhere along the line

Mollie was the first to break the silence "Wow Coco Bean. Look at that sky." pointing up at the twinkling stars. Looking up I'd grin "It's beautiful...never seen so many stars if at all...city lights hide them... Could get use to such a beautiful sight." I'd sigh "Wish I knew the constellations tho..." I'd say while looking from star to star.

Mollie would laugh softly while pointing to the star's "See those three stars in a row there? That's Orion's belt. And that thing that looks like a shopping cart? That's Charles's Wain. My dad taught me a few of these growing up." whispering the last of her sentence as she stroked my hair with her free hand.

Listening, I'd follow her hand trying to make a mental note to not forget. "I'll try to remember...though I may just end up asking you again in the future." I'd giggle softly "Hey Mollie...are you and your dad still close..?" Was that appropriate to ask your girlfriend? Were we that far in the relationship to ask about one anothers family? I was curious but there is a saying about that kill the cat... "Sorry, not a good first date question right? Just a little nervous..like I'm gonna mess this up..somehow heh..." I'd look back to see her expression.

She was biting her lip as if contemplating something before speaking. "Uhm... He... He's dead. So... No..." My heart sunk, and I instantly wanted to go back in time and not even ask. "I'm sorry..." Ugh the typical response to death, I hated it when people did it to me, when every a question came up about my own dad. "I feel like an ass for asking now..." And I felt like a bigger ass for asking on date night, wasn't there like a rule book for things like this?! Or did you just wing it all? I spent the next few minutes mentally kicking myself as I twiddled with my fingers, and wanting to hide in a hole far off somewhere.

Mollie broke the silence, obviously feeling awkward tension. "Hey, it's okay Coco Bean. It's not as painful anymore. Don't be nervous. You haven't ruin anything." intertwining her fingers with my own. I closed my eyes a moment taking in a deep breath of cold air, her words giving me a big boost of reassurance. "Thank you....So how about those nicks?" trying to lighten things back up. Hearing her chuckle in response gave me hope I wasn't a total dope, as I joined her laughing.

"I'm kidding, I know that was lame." giving her hands a soft squeeze in my own, they were much warmer then mine, MUCH more. My own felt like little Popsicles. How long had we been outside? 30 minutes, maybe an hour, regardless the more I pondered it the chillier it felt. As if on queue I began to shiver.

"Cold Coco?" Mollie would ask "It's warmer in the tent if you want to head in." Perking up at the words of warmer, I didn't need to be told twice. "Only if you don't mind, I tend to get cold even if I have on 100 layers of clothing." I'd joke "How about a race? Last one there is a frozen snow girl!" preparing to break free and run for the tent.

You guys... I dunno how it happened or when but the next thing I know my feet weren't connected to the ground anymore which made me squeal in surprise, took me a second to realize I was being cradled. I looked to Mollie with a look of bewilderment which in return she burst into laughter. I was either less then 120 or she was just helluv strong!

"Nope, no racing." she'd say kissing the tip of my nose before carrying me off towards the tent. Talk about leaving a girl speechless, not everyday you get carried off like a princess. I was no longer cold that was for sure, my cheeks blazed as I blushed "You're gonna spoil me like this ya know..." looking down with a shy smile as I spoke.

"That's the idea Coco bean." she'd say with a grin, gently laying me down among the many pillows that filled tent. She was right it was much warmer even more so when she closed the tent's flaps. We spent the rest of the night talking about any and everything we could think of along with a few drinks of champagne and nibbles of strawberries. I even showed Mollie how I'd let the berries soak in the champagne before eating them, I don't remember saying I was tired or even falling asleep but I did. Finding myself snuggled up against a sleeping Mollie, was it weird to watch her sleep? Or watch her chest rise and fall, I already felt lucky even more so now. How did I end up dating someone so amazing, so kind, and beautiful. I Watched her oblivious to her surroundings, pondering what was going on in that sleeping head. Very slowly I'd lean forward planting a kiss along the corner of her mouth careful to not wake her. "Thank you for an amazing night molls." I'd whisper. Hopefully I could make our next date just as great for her.

[northernbreedsportsclub]

Story Time with #northernbreedsportsclub - “First Time Travelers”

(In correlation to this post)

Day 1:

Finally landing in Anchorage, Alaska at approximately 1:30pm (AKDT). Shortly after a long flight departing from Newark Intl. airport (New Jersey) and finding my luggage, I finally run into Michele and Robert Forto, founders of Alaska Dog Works, a family owned and operated dog training business that works with clients throughout Alaska and the “Lower 48″.

After a brief meet and greet at the airport, we stopped by for some lunch over at one of the famous tourist attractions in Alaska called, “Moose’s Tooth Pub & Pizzeria” for some amazing pizza which was then followed by an unofficial guest appearance over at UAA (University of Anchorage Alaska). Both Michele and Robert are students there, however that day, Michele was the only one that had a scheduled class to attend that day. Therefore, he and I decided to sit in on her class.

With that said, I was introduced to the class and began to discuss how I got into mushing and how it turned into a pet service. Shortly after we held quick Q and A with some of the students with help from Robert to discuss details about the mushing business in NYC.

After the guest appearance over at UAA we made the 65 mile drive back to home to the Forto residence , Alaska Dog Works, and Team Ineka Kennel. (Yes, 65 miles!!!!)

Day 2:

Today was a very exciting day! I was finally getting introduced to the Team Ineka kennel which consists of 38 dogs. Joining us was Robert’s son, Tyler Forto. The plan today was do a single team run having myself hooked up to a team of 8 dogs alone while Robert lead the team out with his snow mobile. Before having the dogs hooked up, Robert and I went over a few things about the sled and how-to go about controlling the sled. Now most of which I knew, however what I did learn that day which I previously didn’t know before was the “tie-off” rope, brakes, and the use of “snow hooks”. Now shortly after going over those steps it was time to hook up the dogs. We proceeded to hook the following dogs one by one from lead dog all the way down to wheel dog which I found out was very important when positioning dogs.

Drone photograph of the “Team Ineka” Kennel. 

🚁📷: Robert Forto

Video below shows Tyler hooking up the dogs to the sled and Robert out in front with the snow machine to lead the team out. You’ll also notice how fired up most of the dogs were once they realized they were going for a run. It was pretty hard to talk amongst each other with the dogs talking.

After hooking up the dogs, we were all set to go!

Tyler got behind me as a second dog driver to help get control of the breaks during the start. He and Robert both warned me that the first 2 minutes these dogs will be running at top speed then eventually begin to slow down afterwards. Secondly, he they also warned me that the first minute or so at start of the trail will be very bumpy, which may affect my handle when gripping onto the sled bar. Tyler then asks if I was ready (which I gave the thumbs up), and pulls up the last snow hook and just like that, we we’re off! This was a projected to be a 7-8 mile run. As that first minute of bumpy trails was coming to an end, he gave me the heads up that he would be hopping off, and so he did. Funny thing was a few seconds after getting off the sled, I approached the first turn (which pretty fucking wide), and there I fell hard, face first into the punchy snow with the sled. I yelled out as best as I can to warn Robert since he was leading the dogs on his snow machine. Tyler noticed as well and ended up running to help grab the snow hook and reposition the sled again for me. 

📷: Robert Forto

Now Tyler wasn’t supposed to join us due to cleaning duties he was assigned  to do back at the kennel but after I raised concerns of falling off again and possibly losing the dog team, he ended up joining us, and got on the back of his Robert’s snowmobile. When I was ready, I gave them the thumbs up again and they proceeded to drive ahead to lead the dogs and I. The dogs were fired up when the noticed Robert beginning to pull off, and I pulled my hook and we took off again. Now I won’t dive too deep into the many times I fell that day (honestly because I lost count after 5). But I will say I can say it definitely took a toll on me and at one point stopped to catch a breather! (shown below)

Despite the falls, I gained a lot of experience, but also learned a lot that helped me improve throughout the next two training sessions. 

📷: Robert Forto

Day 3: 

 Today went a lot better! I’d have to say at most, I fell off the sled twice! One of those times I did end up losing my sled team and then loosing control so much so that I got caught and dragged by foot like a swarming fish while the dogs were still running. Overall, most of my downfalls this day was loosing my balance and trying to get back in full control, and in the video you’ll see a demonstration of that. I find this one hilarious. (Btw, headwear on my head is made from real Beaver fur!) 

A post shared by Robert Forto (@robertforto) on Apr 8, 2017 at 12:48pm PDT

I knew that everyday spent with these dogs made for great bonding and trust while on the trails. Which was demonstrated the same day.

A post shared by Robert Forto (@robertforto) on Apr 8, 2017 at 12:54pm PDT

Later that day Robert and I hung out to chat about how he got started in dog mushing. Here are a few questions that were asked which he answered.

1) How did your start into mushing?

Robert Forto: “I got started in mushing in 1994 when I purchased two Siberian Huskies, Rutgrr and Ryche. I have been involved with the sport for the last 23 years doing every discipline from dryland, cart racing, skijoring, sprint, mid and long distance and expeditions.”

2) Why did you name your kennel, “Team Ineka”?

RF: “Ineka was a Siberian Husky we rescued from a kennel in Washington in 2000. He was one the best dogs I have ever owned. He not only was a great lead dog but he was a great teacher for the younger dogs. He passed away just days before we moved to Alaska. Moving here was an ambition of mine since I started mushing years before. I wanted to continue Ineka’s legacy by naming out kennel after him. When he passed we kept his ashes. One day when we get to Nome by dog team I will carry him with me in the sled.”

3) When did you move to Alaska?

RF: “We moved to Alaska in August 2010 after buying our cabin literally sight unseen. My friend, Dave is a musher and a realtor. I asked him to find me a place with these criteria in this order: trail access, fast internet, indoor plumbing, and electric. He found it and in days we bought it. I moved from Denver just a month after first looking at the place.”

4) When did your love for mushing transition into a business?

RF: “We aren’t really a business per say. We love sharing our lifestyle with others. Our goal is to promote the sport in the best way we can by showing people what an awesome experience it is to share a bond with these amazing animals. If people want to pay us for that experience we are fine with that too.”

5) Do you ever plan on running the Iditarod sometime in the near future?

RF: “Someday. I am happy where we are right now as a kennel and a team. We train very hard every year and when the time comes we will be ready. I am not in any hurry, there are people running in the Iditarod in their seventies, I still have 25 to 30 years before then!”

Day 4:

We agreed with temperatures on the rise, this will be the last day for dogsledding. It was a bit unfortunate because training began picking very well. However seeing as though it was the last day we thought we’d go all out with a BANG and have it recorded on Robert’s GoPro Karma Drone. The plan was to have Tyler (Forto) handle the drone controls to record Robert and I each with our own dog team (approx. 2-3 miles) away from the start of the trail. 

📷: Robert Forto

Unfortunately things didn’t pan out as it should because Tyler forgot to hit record button. But we did catch some footage from Robert’s photo during mid-trail on the phone. (Shown Below) 

📷: Robert Forto

📷: Robert Forto

A post shared by Robert Forto (@robertforto) on Apr 9, 2017 at 4:20pm PDT

Day 5: 

Last day! 

Sadly, the mushing training + mini-vacation trip came to an end. It was fun while it lasted, and definitely look forward to returning back soon.

P.S.

Robert and his wife Michele were great host and I’m thankful for them welcoming me into their home and giving me a place to stay while training out there. I learned A LOT and look forward to bringing back that those mushing skills for me to apply and modify back home.

Please feel free to check out the Forto’s social media platforms + website + subscribe to his podcast.

Robert Forto: 

Facebook | Instagram | Twitter

Dog Works Radio:

Facebook | Instagram | Twitter | iTunes

Alaska Dog Works:

Facebook | Instagram | Twitter

Team Ineka:

Facebook | Instagram | Website

[skeletorific]

How would uf,ut, and us sans react to their s/o's ex coming back saying their still in love with them and that they should forget about sans?

UF!Sans: Its a good date. The two of you have something of a banter going back and forth. He’s finally starting to feel like he’s getting over that awkward transition between friendship and something more. ‘Course, this time it wasn’t all his fault. You were still getting over how it had ended with your ex. He didn’t know them, per se, but he knew they were a real piece of work.

Either way, for today at least, it feels easier. It feels right.

“No, no way.” You laugh. “There is no fuckin way Papyrus sleeps with a nightlight.”

He grins. “’s the truth.”

“Seriously? Tall, Dark and Edgy?”

“Yup” he chuckles. “Used to be really bad when the power would knock off Underground. Loudest I’ve ever heard him yell is when Alphys banged up the Core energy lines to our place. He didn’t sleep for a week.”

“Holy shit.” You grin and shake your head. “Why the hell would you tell me that, now I’m not gonna be able to take him seriously now.”

“Well, do me a favor,” he slipped an arm around your waist. “Make an effort, or its both our asses.”

You lean slightly into him. “I think I can take him.”

“I’d pay to see you try.”

“How much?”

“That depends, how much are you wearin’ during the fight”

You shove his shoulder and grin slightly as he laughs when a sudden voice behind you makes both of you jump slightly.”

“Y/N”

He feels you stiffen and you take a sip of your drink. Your fists clench slightly. “Fuck off.”

“Y/n….come on, I just need a chance.”

“You had a chance. You had fucking twenty. I’m all out.”

He feels his shoulders rising unconsciously as a hard angry knot forms in his rib cage. So this is the Asshole.

They come around from behind you, grabbing your hand and getting way too close for his tastes, but he doesn’t move yet. See what you do. “Baby-”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” You yank your hand out of their grip, and the sting of jealousy is soothed. Yeah, buddy, walk away….not in the mood to pick another fight today…

“Come on, sweetie, what we had was so good, you don’t really wanna give it up, do you?”

“Oh, real good,” you snorted. “I can’t tell what my favorite part was, the looking at other people or the making me feel like shit for breathing your air. Really, there’s too much to choose from.”

They sigh, like they’re the ones suffering. Like they’re dealing with an unreasonable child. Then its like they notice him all of a sudden. “Who the hell is this?”

“This,” he growled. “would be Sans. The current boyfriend.”

“You got a new boyfriend?” They looked at you furiously.

“Funny thing about being broken up.” you say. “You get to do this wild thing called moving on. In my case to greener pastures.”

There’s a slight thrill traveling up his spine. Proud. You’re proud to be seen with him, Proud to rub it in their face.

“I don’t like him.” They shook their head.

“Well, shame, ‘cause I was really hopin to get the invite to your birthday party.” he bit out.

“Y/n, look at him.” they say, leaning into your face a little too close again. “He clearly just wants to get you back home so he can feel you up.”

You slam your drink down and whirl on them, making both of them jump. “’Cause that’s all I’m good for, right? You’ve used that one before. Every friend I made you told me wanted me for one thing and one thing only. Newsflash, I’m not buyin the shit you’re selling.”

“You’re being irrational. Look, let’s just…let’s get you home, okay? We can talk about this.” You make no move and they snatch your wrist.

Too far.

A whisper and crackle of magic and suddenly your ex finds themselves with a hand wrapped painfully around their arm.

“What the hell-”

“they said they’re not interested.” His eye is lit up with red, pulsing magic and his voice is a barely discernable growl. “so let. them. go.”

Slightly cowed, your ex turns pale and drops your hand.

“‘scuse us a second, doll.” he plants a hand firmly on the back of your exes neck as he steers them out of the building.

He comes back a few minutes looking somewhat smug. He won’t tell you what happened (although once pressed he promises he didn’t actually hurt the jackass). Still, the future is brightly ex-less. You see them once or twice more but the second they lay eyes on Sans they’re speedwalking in the opposite direction.

UT!Sans: Its a beautiful day outside. Birds are singing. Flowers are blooming. On days like this, people like your ex….

It had been going so well. For once you had managed to drag Sans’ ass out of bed before 3. You’d had the day off, so the two of you had gone to the park, just to wander around, shoot the breeze a bit. Also, Sans insisted on sampling every hot dog cart in the area.

“Seriously, is this like an ego thing for you?” You say as he dumps the fifth one in your arms. “Trying to prove your stuff was better or something?”

“Nah, ’m too lazy to be competitive.” He grinned, biting into his first one. “Just wanna find out what it tastes like without water sausages.”

“…..you need five for that?”

“Scientific process, babe.” He finishes off the first and moves onto devouring the next. “Gotta compare as many as I can to the control group so I can identify variables.”

You roll your eyes and grin. “Pulling the science thing on me, very good move. Almost distracts me from the fact that you’re full of shit.”

“No, ‘m full of hot dogs.” He grins and moves onto the third. “And-”

“Babe?”

Your shoulders go stiff and you have to force yourself to relax them. You turn around slowly to see your ex. Suitcase in hand, clothes as formal as you remember. Must be on lunch break. It had been a mistake coming this close to their work.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Sans raise a brow, but he stays mercifully quiet.

“I’ve been calling you. Over and over.”

“I know.” You stuff your hands in your pockets, somewhat defensively. “I’ve been ignoring it. Over and over.”

“Why? Am I not worth an answer?” they say. “All that time….and I don’t even get an explanation for you ripping out my heart?”

You know what they’re doing. And its working. That familiar guilt is setting in, and all of a sudden all that matters is them and how they’re feeling. You feel selfish, useless, a burden. “Look, you’re…..you’re right. I should’ve explained myself. I probably owed you that. But…..I can’t do it anymore. I can be with you anymore.”

“What are you talking about, why not?” They seem to notice Sans. “Who’s this.”

“Heya. Sans the skeleton.” Sans says, wiping his face a bit. “I’m….well, their current boyfriend. Guessing you’re the ex they won’t talk about.” He’s clearly trying to stay polite, but there’s an undertone that you know means he’s bristling a bit. 

There’s a look in your ex’s eyes as their eyes travel up and down Sans. A mild disdain. You’d seen that look before, directed at a few friends, and you know they’re looking at the sweatshirt, the old ketchup stains on the hood, the basketball shorts and slippers, and already deciding you’ve lost your mind.

“Y/n….who are you kidding?”

“What?”

“Look, if this was….I don’t know, some crazy attempt to make me jealous or something, you could’ve at least picked a better candidate.” They give Sans another look, the derision even more evident. “Look, let’s just go home, okay? I get off in a few hours, we can talk about this then.”

“No! Look, I told you, I can’t-”

“Don’t be stupid.” They say coolly. “You and I both know you can’t live without me.

“Hey, buddy,” Sans says. “I’m not appreciatin the tone you’re taking.”

“Look, Sam, was it?” They say, voice and face mocking every inch of the skeleton. “Sorry to waste your time, but y/n and I have a good thing going.”

“Had.” Sans corrects. “And based on this little interaction I have to wonder how good it really was.”

“Alright, sure, we’re in a rough patch right now. But we’re meant for each other. I know them better than anyone.”

“I-”

“Y/n.” they cut you off. “Go home. I’ll be there in a bit.”

You’re about to retort when you feel Sans’ hand grab yours and squeeze it. “Welp, you heard them babe.” He comes up closer and grins at you. “Let’s go home.”

Before they can say another word he’s short-cutted both of you home.

Okay, so maybe running away again isn’t the healthiest way to deal with it. But you’re too relieved to be out of there to really be concerned with it. 

Truth be told, that little interaction cut Sans deeper than he’ll want to tell you. Everything in that look of your ex’s had echoed every self-conscious thought he’d ever had. But one things for sure.

“They don’t know shit about you.”

US!Sans: “Come on!” You say, body gearing up for his next move. “Show me what you got.”

               His attacks suddenly fade out and the glow in his eyes diminishes somewhat. “AFTER YOU’VE RESTED A BIT.”

               “Aw, come on!”

               He smiled and shook his head. “A QUICK WATER BREAK. YOU LOOK DEAD ON YOUR FEET.”

               “Well, we can’t all be perfect.” You mutter. Your boyfriend looks barely winded despite the fact that you’ve been at it for almost an hour and a half now. Still, you comply and sit down at the bench near the sparring area.

               He picks up the water bottles from by your bags and hands you one, kissing your temple. “YOU’RE DOING WELL, THOUGH.”

               “Still haven’t landed a blow on you.” You say, taking a drink.

               “YOU’VE ONLY JUST STARTED TRAINING WITH ME. YOU’LL GET THERE SOON, I’M CERTAIN.” His eyes trace a few bruises on your arm and face that you’ve acquired since the session began. “ARE YOU SURE YOU DON’T WANT ME TO HEAL THOSE?”

               You shake your head. “Just a couple of bruises, you don’t need to waste the magic. Besides, they’ll help me learn from my mistakes.”

               He looks uncertain, but there’s a flicker of pride in those eyes that warms you down to your SOUL.

               You’d been training with Sans for almost a month now, ever since Alphys had finally convinced the gym owners to set up a sparring area for former (or current, if Sans had his way) Royal Guard members. You figured if Sans was going to spend all his time here, you might as well get something out of it.

               It’d been one of the hardest things you’d ever done, but also one of the most rewarding. You were in better shape than you’d ever been. You were feeling better than you ever had. And you were certain it had brought you closer as a couple. Which was good. With all the baggage you were carrying from the last relationship, you needed all the help you could get.

               And as if thoughts had summoned them someone on the far side gym turned and made eye contact with you, and you felt your blood turn to ice.

               Blue seemed to notice you stiffen. “Y/N? ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”

               “Sans, can we-“ You’re about to ask if you can make a hasty retreat, but its too late, they see you and are striding right toward you.

  ��            “Babe?!”

               Sans’ eyes widen a fraction and he looks at the oncoming figure while dread settles in the pit of your stomach.

               “What the hell are you doing here with that?!”

               You grit your teeth. “We’ve been over this. I don’t want to talk to you. Ever again.”

               “Is this what you’ve been doing?!” They look torn between fury, confusion, and sadness. “Going around with one of those things?”

               Sans has gone quiet. He seems to be trying to piece it together.

               “That thing,” You say, rising to your feet. “is my boyfriend. And I want you to go. Now.”

               “Babe, what are you…..he’s a monster!”

               “That fact hasn’t exactly escaped me.” You say acidly, and your heart is pounding and you hate yourself for getting this worked up again over this piece of shit and please, stars, just let them leave, don’t make Sans see this.

               “And that doesn’t bother you?! I…..holy shit….” You can feel their eyes tracing the bruises. “Has he been hitting you?!”

               “No!” You say, fighting the urge to cover them. “Look, just get the hell out of here, okay?”

               “Baby, I don’t understand, we were so good, and if you just-“

               “We weren’t!” You say, laughing somewhat incredulously. “We were stars-awful for each other! I hate how I felt with you. I hate how I made you feel with me. I don’t want it to be like that again! Hard as it may be for you to believe, I’m actually happy here. I’m happy with him!”

               They shake their head. “I don’t fuckin believe you. I give you everything, work my ass off for this relationship, and you throw it off to be some monster’s squeeze? And you’re covered with bruises and I’m supposed to buy that he hasn’t hit you? They’re savages, everyone knows it.” They dart forward before you can blink and grab your hand, dragging you away. “We’re going home.”

               You try to pull away, but before you can try to hard there’s a cyan blur and you’re turned loose, while your ex is being held by Sans, in such a position that they aren’t being hurt but they can’t move.

               “Let go of me!”

               “I’M SORRY. BUT I CAN’T ALLOW YOU TO SPEAK TO THEM LIKE THAT. WHILE I’M CERTAIN I COULD WIN YOU OVER IN ANY OTHER CASE,” he glanced at you. “YOUR BEHAVIOR TOWARDS THEM HAS CROSSED THE LINE. THEY’VE CLEARLY INDICATED THEY WOULD PREFER FOR YOU TO LEAVE. I’M GOING TO REPEAT THAT REQUEST, AND IF YOU DON’T, THEN I’LL BE FORCED TO KEEP YOU TRAPPED UNTIL YOU AGREE.”

               They struggle a bit before realizing that for as small as Sans is, there’s no getting away from him. Red-faced and humiliated, they mutter “Fine” and Sans turns them loose.

               They start walking away, sneering at you one last time. “Fine. Have fun with your pipsqueak monster boyfriend. When you come crawling back, I’ll try my best not to slam the door in your face.” They storm off, pick up their bag, and leave the building.

               You sit back down on the bench, breathing deep. Sans is at your side, kneeling in front of you and lifting your face to look at him. “ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”

               “Y….yeah.” You shake your head a bit to clear it. “Sorry, just…been awhile since our last encounter. Last one was even worse.”

               “I’D BE HESITANT TO SPEAK ILL OF SOMEONE YOU WERE CLEARLY…INVOLVED WITH.” He said hesitantly. “BUT I’D SAY YOU WERE BETTER OFF WITHOUT PAYING MIND TO THEM.”

               You laugh softly. “Yeah. Definitely.”

               “DO YOU FEEL UP TO CONTINUING OUR TRAINING, OR WOULD YOU PREFER TO GO HOME?”

               You pause for a second. “You know what? I think I’ve got some energy to burn off. Just, uh,” You smile a little ruefully. “Maybe training dummies. Got somethin I need to visualize hitting right now.”

               His mouth quirks slightly in a smile and he kisses your forehead. “ALRIGHT.” He stands up and pulls you to your feet. “LET ME DEMONSTRATE THAT MANUEVER I MENTIONED EARLIER…”

[wingsy-keeper-of-songs]

Kept Promises

Anon asked: Could you write a cute fic about Schultz and Nora having a fancy dinner together?

So I’ve been busy with work over the past few days, but I managed to get myself awake enough to pull this little number out of my head and onto the page. Here, we have Nora and Schultz catching up after a few months or upwards of about a year of separation. I’ve somewhat changed my take on their relationship. Where Nora was once his partner in crime, she’s now a dear friend King goes to visit after a particularly long bounty hunt. The two get closer and closer until one catches feelings for the other. Another thing, I based most of King’s interactions with Nora off of how he acted towards Hildy which was with the utmost respect, and he actually seemed a bit flustered. I mean, I would be too because Hildy is GORGEOUS. But I wondered if he acted like that around other ladies, and so this plot bunny evolved. Without further ado, here’s your request, Anon!

Standing there having a staring contest with the door was not solving anything, a lone gentleman thought to himself. If he were going to get anything done today, it ought to be at least a house call on a friend. Granted, his title of doctor was more of a ruse nowadays and he hadn’t made a house call in at least five years, but that was beside the point. It had been ages since his last visit and he was starting to think that perhaps he had the wrong address, but continued to stare at the door in front of him. If he were to knock, there would be a good chance that this was indeed the wrong house and he was internally panicking for nothing. But there was also a good chance of this being the correct house which was another thing entirely. He mulled the address over in his head, and debated with himself about knocking on the door.

However, it seemed the universe was in favor of embarrassing him today because the door opened and standing on the stairwell was indeed the person he had been trying to see.

“You’ve been standing outside my doorstep for at least ten minutes,” Nora informed him in her imperious fashion that he admired so much. “I was beginning to think you must have misplaced your mind.”

“I find I do that every so often,” Schultz replied with a small sheepish smile. “I was wondering whether or not I had the right house. I seemed to have misplaced your address.”

“And your plan was to simply stare at the door until it came to you?” She asked with a quirk of a perfectly arched eyebrow.

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But at least I have found the correct house.”

“Indeed,” she said, folding her arms over her chest. “What brings you by today?” Again, he smiled at her, taking note of the color rising in her cheeks.

“I thought to make a house call,” he informed her. “It has been quite some time since we spoke last. A few months, perhaps?”

“Longer,” the woman replied. “I’d thought to send you a letter, but you’re so nomadic. It would be quite pointless, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I would, but this is a conversation best held inside.” He nodded at the open door. “As long as you are not upset with me?” He trailed off, looking at her with his best impression of a sad dog. She hid a smile and beckoned him inside.

“Not as much as I ought to be,” she admitted. “In fact, I’m quite relieved to see you’re still standing. Come along inside, it’s been some time since our last chat.” With a sigh of relief that he didn’t realize he was holding back, he hopped up the few steps to the foyer and followed her up the stairs. “I’m to understand your bounty gave you quite the chase this time,” she said as they headed to the second floor. He shrugged.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” he said matter-of-factly. He was not prideful, nor was he boastful. “Though he did give a good chase. I managed to track him down to a seedy little establishment somewhere in Mississippi.” She grimaced at the thought.

“I never cared for Mississippi,” she said as she unlocked the door. “I’d been carted away to visit too many plantations over there. The weather is atrocious and I tend to avoid states that uphold slavery.” That was a bit rich, coming from a woman born in the American South, but he knew her well. Like himself, she was an abolitionist, and very fiercely so.

“I wasn’t fond of it myself,” he agreed because he wasn’t. “It was far too hot in my opinion. Not enough mountains either.”

“You Germans and your mountains,” she shook her head. “I’d head west if that was what you were looking for. And I’m told there are a few further north as well.”

“Well, the bounty was headed south, so naturally I followed him.” Schultz said. “I’m just glad our chase didn’t bring us closer to Candyland. I believe I still have a bit of a reputation there.” Nora headed into the kitchen, but she was still listening.

“If you had any sense at all, you’d stay far away from Candyland.” She said darkly. “Lord only knows what Calvin would do to you if he heard you were sniffing around his plantation again.”

“I haven’t been back since the previous visit,” Schultz said, brushing down his vest and looking offended at the very idea that he’d go looking for trouble. “Trust me, I know when to quit.”

“Lying does not become you,” Nora said as she came into the living room armed with tea. “You’re as stubborn as I am and twice as foolish. You would take any chance to invoke Calvin’s wrath, and the both of us know it. How Django put up with that is beyond me.”

“Have you seen him lately?” Schultz asked. “After we went our separate ways, I’m afraid I haven’t heard much from him or his lovely wife.”

“Broomhilda is pregnant,” Nora answered, timing it perfectly just as Schultz was about to take a drink. He nearly choked.

“What?” He said intelligently after reminding his lungs what air was.

“I believe you heard me the first time,” Nora said, hiding another smile. “She and Django have settled someplace in the North last I heard. She’s rather excited from what I can make of her letters. She’s such a sweet lady.” Schultz nodded.

“She and Django will be wonderful parents,” he said with a smile. “I have the utmost faith in them.”

“Of course you do, you love those two like they were family.” Nora said. “I believe you’ve managed to avoid my question, Dr. Schultz.” He frowned in confusion.

“I’m sorry?”

“The meaning of your visit,” Nora clarified. “Pleasant though it is, I’m afraid I still don’t rightly know what brought you here. It couldn’t have been just to see me. Is there another bounty?” Schultz wondered about that. He hadn’t thought about what to tell her when he’d come to visit. He just missed the lady, really. He’d gotten used to having someone along with him when he went hunting, but nowadays, it was a lonely business.

“No bounty,” he shook his head. “Truth be told, Eleanor, I came to see you because I missed you.”

“Oh?” Nora blinked. “Did you?” He nodded.

“Yes,” and he left it at that.

“Well, I suppose I ought to tell you that I missed you as well.” She replied with a fond smile. “Hardly anyone comes by to see me outside of the children, you know.” Schultz wondered about taking the hand that rested on the arm of her chair. Being a teacher wasn’t nearly as lonely as being a bounty hunter, but he could relate. He imagined children were only interesting after a short time. Though he was extremely patient and loved children, he had a bit of a wandering mind. Things tended to get boring for him rather quickly which was why he moved around so much. Well, that and also because he had yet to catch his brother’s murderers.

“And how are the children?” He inquired because it was polite and because he was interested. “Are they doing well?”

“As well as to be expected,” Nora sighed. “Our school is so small, and there are so many of them. Books are beginning to get hard to come by. Funding is at an all time low, that sort of thing. It seems our government doesn’t favor education as strongly as they ought to.”

“What a pity,” Schultz said with a sigh. “Education is quite literally the most important aspect in life, wouldn’t you say so?”

“As a teacher, I am bound to agree.” Nora replied. “Though even if I weren’t, I would agree still. But try explaining that to our governor. I’ve written to him several times, but each time it’s as if I were talking to the wallpaper.”

“The man is as dull as wallpaper,” Schultz mumbled, having met the man once. Nora laughed and he felt his heartbeat quicken.

“It really has been too long since I saw you last,” she informed him. “I’ve missed our conversations.”

“As have I. People often consider those who talk to the dead mad if they were to happen along them,” Schultz said with a self-deprecating chuckle.

“I would think you mad otherwise. I’ve seen that tooth cart of yours.” Nora laughed.

“I like my tooth cart.”

“I’m aware.” She paused for a moment and glanced at the clock. “I wonder,” she began. “You don’t have anywhere to be, do you?”

“Er, not that the moment.” Schultz said. “Why?”

“Because I think it would be nice if the two of us were to have dinner together tonight.” Nora replied. “I haven’t seen you in months and it feels nice to laugh again. We could catch up even more if you would like. There’s a little inn just south of here that would be lovely. Would you like to join me?” Schultz thought about this for a moment, mulling over the possibilities in his head.

“I would like nothing better,” he could hear himself saying. “Shall I drive you or shall we walk? How far is it?”

“Nothing too strenuous,” Nora said with a wave of her hand. “And I would think Fritz deserves a night off, don’t you?”

“The old fellow’s been feeling his age lately,” Schultz agreed. “As have I.” Nora smiled at him and shook her head.

“I highly doubt that. You seem as sprightly as ever to me.” Schultz could feel his face heating up, but he elected to ignore it.

“Is there a certain time you would like me to come by?” He asked by way of changing the conversation. Nora glanced at the clock again.

“I believe seven would be the most agreeable to me,” she said. “Does that work for you?”

“Seven it is then,” he said with a smile. He stood then and offered his hand to help her stand. She placed it in his carefully and he dared to give the top of her knuckles a chivalrous kiss. She smiled at him and playfully swatted his chest.

“Flatterer,” she mock-scolded him. “You treat me as if I were a real lady.”

“Who says you’re not?”

``` Seven rolled around much quicker than Schultz anticipated. He brushed down his dark vest and jacket, hoping to look at least somewhat presentable. Again, he found himself having a staring contest with the door, but instead of wallowing in his thoughts for ten minutes, he knocked. Nora came outside in a simple, yet very pretty baby blue gown. He didn’t know what she’d done to make herself look more attractive than she already was, but it certainly worked. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. She seemed to glide as she walked and when she smiled at him, he could barely breathe.

“You’re staring at me,” she chided gently. “Do I look all right?”

“Apologies,” he said as he shook himself out of his reverie. “And you look stunning.” Not that she didn’t already, but there was something different about her now.

“Charming,” she said with a delicate smile and she took his offered arm. “Thank you for the compliment. I would say you look handsome, but we both know you always do.” Schultz thought his face caught fire for a second.

“Er, thank you.” He said somewhat awkwardly as they walked together. The inn wasn’t too far from Nora’s apartment complex. It was just down the road a ways and the evening was cool. When they reached the inn, they chatted briefly about the tension between South and North and the inevitability of war. It wasn’t exactly pleasant dinner conversation, but it needed to be discussed.

“I would be very distraught if you were called away,” Nora informed him as they were seated. “Who else would I talk to?”

“I’m sure there are several people in town you could talk to,” Schultz said. “But the sentiment is appreciated.”

“Would you fight if you were asked to? Even though this isn’t your country?” Nora asked. He frowned, thinking on it.

“To be honest, I don’t really know.” He admitted. “I mean, I did write a few essays back in France and participated in the student rebellion. Granted, that didn’t end well. What I’m getting at is that I have fought both for my country and for others that needed me. Were I to be asked, I think I might. This is my home now, after all. I would do anything to protect it. And you.” He’d added that last part by mistake. It was a Freudian slip that he often got himself into when he was around her. That really needed to be rectified.

“I believe it’s your sense of justice that I find most appealing about you,” Nora said with a smile. “It may get you into trouble a lot of the time, but I find it quite attractive, if I were being honest.” He smiled back at her.

“Your appreciation is appreciated,” he teased a little.

Dinner was a chatty, yet quiet affair as most patrons were tired from a long journey and had gone to sleep. Catching up with the other’s lives was relatively pleasant. Aside from a few close calls, Schultz had managed to keep himself out of trouble. Nora’s students were beginning to learn to read Shakespeare and Nora had suggested that Schultz come to the classroom at some point to read with them.

“I can imagine you’d be quite good at it,” she said to him. “Though I’ve yet to hear a Macbeth with a German accent!”

The two had a quiet argument about who would pay the bill (Schultz won, naturally) before they headed out back to Nora’s home.

“Thank you for coming with me, King.” Nora said to him as they walked slowly together. “It was nice to chat with you again.”

“I quite enjoyed myself as well,” Schultz agreed, smiling at her as they meandered down the walk. “And I’m glad you asked. I probably would have sat on a dinner invitation for another five years had it been up to me to ask.” Nora laughed and he found himself admiring the line of her throat. He cleared his own when they reached her door. “I ought to say ‘auf wiedersehen.’”

“How does one say good night in German?” Nora asked as she turned to face him.

“Gute nacht,” he answered. She tucked her hair back.

“And if I were to say come see me again, what would you say to me?” She asked, looking directly into his eyes. He avoided hers, dropping his gaze to his feet.

“I would say ‘Ich verspreche, ich werde.’” He said quietly. She laid a hand on his cheek, causing his eyes to flick to hers.

“And what does that mean?”

“It means, I promise I will.” He replied, leaning into her touch. She smiled so softly at him, it was dangerously close to causing him to melt.

“And if I were to ask you to kiss me…” she started, and he needed no more further information than that. He kissed her swiftly and briefly before pulling back and looking a bit shocked.

“I, er, I’m sorry…that was…” he was normally such a garrulous gentleman and knew all the right things to say, but when it came to her, every bit of sense seemed to leave him. She continued to smile at him and stood on her toes to kiss him again. He went still at first, but he soon found himself realizing that she’d welcomed this and pressed himself into the kiss as well. His hands came up to cradle her face against his as he kissed her back. When she pulled back only to breathe, he saw stars in her eyes.

“Come and see me again,” she said breathlessly. “Do you promise?” He smiled at her softly and leaned in to kiss her again.

“I promise.”

[morganhazelwood]

When Morgan Got LASIK

The Night Before

Last Thursday started off with my meds and eye drops.

I knew one of the drops I was supposed to start the day before, so I looked over my bottles and found it. Then, I reread my directions where it said: 4xs a day, starting the day before surgery.

Well, BLEEP. A little late now.

I did the drops that night and twice before surgery.

Before Surgery

Surgery was at 1pm, and I was supposed to have a light snack at least an hour prior. So, I had a large breakfast sandwich at 10am and called that “good.”

Packing up to go, they’d mentioned they had stuffed animals for me to hold during surgery. But why use theirs when I have stuffed animals of my own. I slid one I call “Alfred” into my bag and grabbed all the drops for the doctors to check over.

My appointment was the first one after lunch, so the office was quiet when I arrived and logged in. They had a remodeling show on the TV in the waiting room, so that proved suitably distracting from my slowly rising panic.

When the receptionist got back from lunch, she had me sign my wavers and took my money. Then, I sat down for about 10-15 minutes, until they called me back.

The surgery assistant told me that it was fine that I’d only had 3 rounds of the antibiotic and gave me a name-tag to wear. Then she proceeded to give me about 3 more different types of drops, while going over the procedure and the steps I would have to take when I got home, while answering my questions as they occurred to me. She used a cross between a giant mascara wand and a large cotton swab to get the extra drops off my lashes. Plus, she gave me Xanax – to keep me calm and to relax my face muscles.

The surgeon came in with a very low-key vibe, almost surfer-esque and reiterated that staying calm would make everything go much better.

Morgan: With protective hairnet and last time with glasses.

Surgery

The room was surrounded by windows on the front and sides, with 2 different laser/operating set-ups and carts of tools around the edges. Spot lights were on the ceiling and there were seats for my friend/driver to wait and watch from.

I got a big hug, took a deep breath, and entered the operating room.

The assistants directed me into the chair/bed with all the lights and lasers set up over it. I hugged Alfred to my left-side, out of the way, and held his hand with my right.

Step one was to slice open the lens of my eye.

They had me stare into a bright light, taped my lashes out of the way, and then they put something on the lens of my eye before they made the incision. I don’t know exactly what they did, (and I’m not going to look it up because the thought of it makes me want to panic), but it felt like a hard lens.

The lens for the right eye went in, it was uncomfortable, but I followed directions and concentrated on slow, deep breaths and not moving.

The left eye was not so cooperative. I think I heard the surgeon say, “Huh, your cornea’s a bit small but it’ll fit,” but mostly, I tried really, really hard to stay still and breath quietly.

The back of my head was chanting: Don’t move or you might go blind!

While the front of my head was going: I don’t want to do this any more, he’s really smooshing my eye. I don’t like this anymore! Why am I doing an elective surgery? Why did I ever think this was a good idea?!

Fortunately, that part lasted less than 15 seconds. Three slow breaths and the smooshing was done.

Step Two were the lasers.

As forewarned, they moved the bed over to the second station and the surgeon reassured me. “That was the hard part, nothing else will be that bad. The lasers are easy.”

And he was right.

I stared at a green little dot between two red dots, keeping my eyes as still as possible.

I remembered from remarking on it during my readiness check-up, that when they move the light closer, it feels like your eyes are drifting either up or down, but they aren’t. So, I didn’t panic when I was keeping my eyes on the green light but it felt like my eyes were moving.

I think there was a sensation? But mostly, I remember the smell – like using a curling iron a little too long and you scorch the hair a little. Plus, trying to forget that if I flinched, I could do serious damage to myself.

Each eye, once they were lined up and set, took less than 20 seconds.

As they finished with each eye, they peeled the tape gently off my lashes and just stuck it to my hairnet.

Then, it was done. Less than 10 minutes.

LASIK: Post-Surgery

They led me over to a chair, just on the other side of the wall from the observation chairs. I tapped at my driver and waved, then sank into the seat where I hugged Alfred pretty hard.

The surgeon said, “You can put down the–oh, that one’s yours.”

To which I replied, “Now’s when I really need him, with the adrenaline rush and the being able to move again. Now the panic’s setting in.”

He reminded me of my post-op care, escorted me to the door, and I was done.

With my post-op-sunglasses, I looked around in awe. It was like having contacts in, although I was very light sensitive.

About the time we made it to the highway, the numbing drops were starting to wear off. I just closed my eyes and hid from the sun for the 30 min drive.

Once home, I had a regiment of drops: antibiotics, steroids, and moisturizing drops (regular ones for while I was awake, gel ones for pre-nap/bedtime).

The doctor advised chilling the drops, but I’d asked his assistant about that before the surgery.

I don’t even like cold water!

When I’d taken the moisturizing and antibiotic drops pre-surgery, I’d already fought the urge to rub the bottle between my hands to make it closer to body temperature. She reassured me that it was just for comfort and that the drops were fine at room temperature.

I’m not gonna lie–the first round of drops stung a lot, and I asked myself yet again, why did I do this to myself! After waiting 3-5 minutes between drops, I finally got them all in and checked off on my chart. Stumbling up the stairs, I put on my sleep-goggles, carefully made sure I had a pillow behind my knees, and lay down on my back.

The assistant had mentioned during my surgery-prep that it was important not to put any pressure on the eyes or to touch them, especially for at least the first two days. But! If at all possible, it was best to sleep on the back and with the goggles for the first week. I want the best possible outcome, so I’ve been very, very careful.

Following surgical directions, I took my 3 hour nap, got up, and did another round of drops.

Morgan Collage: With sleep-goggles, post-op sunglasses, and no glasses

The First Day

The first day, steroid drops were hourly, the second day every other hour, and for the rest of the first week, meals and bedtime — just like the antibiotic drops.

The lubricating drops are every other hour for the first 2 weeks, and at least 4 times a day for the first 3 months.

Did I mention in the pre-surgery post that the tear ducts are connected to your sinuses? And thus you can taste the steroids about 5 minutes after you put in the drops. They suggest pressing on your tear ducts/bridge of your nose to keep the drops from draining too quickly, but you can’t hold them there forever. I’ve taken to keeping a box of tic tacs in the bag I carry my drops in.

TV wasn’t hard to watch. Reading was more of a challenge, although my computer screen was worse than my phone. (I’ve turned the brightness down on all my devices). After a bit of TV, I headed off to the mall (it was raining heavily) and got some walking in, and focusing on something further away than a phone or TV screen. I could read my phone, but it hurt my eyes to do it for too long.

The night-halos are as predicted, although I’ve been told they usually get better. Oncoming traffic has larger halos than the red back running lights. Break lights also get the halo.

LASIK – The Aftermath

The day after my surgery, I had a 10 am appointment to have my eyes checked and was declared to have 20:20 vision, just over 20 hours post-op.

They did mention there was some blood in my eyes around the incision site, but it should clear up. If not, I’d go back to the surgery suite, they’d fold back the lens, and just suction it out. (I REALLY hope it’s cleared up on its own, I haven’t seen any blood in the mirror.)

I took a 6 mile walk on a trail near my house. It had been raining earlier, and was heavily overcast – which was just perfect for my delicate eyes. I wanted to get the exercise and taking the long break from screens was really helpful. I needed a nap, though. Either the stress or the healing was exhausting.

I had the surgery on a Thursday and by Monday I was back in my office. It was a little bit of a struggle and I had to turn the brightness all the way down on my monitors, but no headache from that. My work laptop screen is a different story. (Or maybe it’s just because I logged onto it after a long day, when my eyes were already tired.)

1 week out, my eyes still tire easily–especially of screens. This is evidenced by mild headache and my eyes drifting out of focus on my computer screen. I find pressing my palms over my eyes very restive. I haven’t been able to edit much, but I did manage to squeeze in a scene.

My eyes still have edges that sting a little when I put in the drops. Hopefully that will be healed soon! Eyes shouldn’t have edges!

I think my eyes will continue to be a bit photo-sensitive for a while, so will continue wearing the post-op-sunglasses anytime I’m outside in full daylight for quite a while.

P.S Here’s an actual picture of those plastic blue glasses, 1/3rd the size of my face versus post-op Morgan:

Got any questions about LASIK that I didn’t cover?

Had LASIK? Feel free to share about your own experience!

Morgan’s LASIK Adventure When Morgan Got LASIK The Night Before Last Thursday started off with my meds and eye drops.

[hauntedduckdefendor]

Guardians Chp 3

“You have gotta be shitting me! You assholes just roll up into the parking lot of the son's clubhouse and expect to take her right out from under their noses!!  I thought you had more common sense than that! Especially you two!”

Eric yelled at the members of his club that he sent out to capture Y/N.  

He paces their sorry excuse for a clubhouse. They need the girl in order to patch over to the Mayans while they still have a beef with SAMCRO.

“You all are very lucky Trager and that Teller kid didn't fill your bodies with bullets. We need to get her back! She better be in that doorway within the next week or all of you are dead!”

Tig’s POV

I feel her standing over me before I see her. I don't open my eyes because I know the look she's giving me. Her hands are probably on her hips, her hair a hot mess, and she’s glaring daggers at me. I can't help the smile that creeps over my lips at the feeling of her stare. Carefully opening my eyes I find her exactly as I imagined. The only exception is she has her hair up in a ponytail.

“What in the fuck Alex! I told you I was more than fine sleeping on the couch”!

I laugh as I sit up, knowing my neck is going to be sore as hell the rest of the day.

“And I told you. You would sleep on this couch over my dead body”

“Why do you always have to do that? Put everyone else’s well being before your own”?

Her hands move from her hips, to cross over her chest. I can tell she’s cold. Her nipples are making their presence known underneath the shirt she’s wearing. Standing up, I walk over toward my closet and dig out an old hoodie of mine. It was from a Def Leppard concert we went to when we first started dating.  Quickly handing it to her, I grab a clean pair of socks and begin to get dressed for the day. She’s staring at the hoodie in awe. Hopefully, memories of happier times for us are in her head, just like they are mine.

“I can't believe you still have this” her voice is quiet.

“Well I wasn't going to get rid of it, it’s Def Leppard”.

Taking one last quick glance at the hoodie, she pulls it over her head as I begin to lace up my boots.

I have a notebook on the counter and a pen in my hair as I am going through the kitchen of the clubhouse. I’m not sure how these guys have been living without me the past two years. Takeout? Gemma feeding them once or twice a week? The most edible items in the clubhouse consist of limes and fish sticks. I’m glancing down at my ever growing list of what I need to get at the grocery store. I’ll need to grab a few newspapers on Sunday too. With the amount of food and liquor these guys ingest, coupons are a must.

I’m humming to myself when I hear footsteps in the kitchen.

“Still mad at me,” Tig asks as he opens a cabinet door, shakes his head, then closes it again.

“Yes, Trager, I am still mad at you” I huff as I add potatoes to the grocery list.

“You’re not seriously doing that meal planning thing again are you,” he asks coming over to read over my shoulder.

“Yes I am Tig, I refuse to live on takeout for however long I am here. Not to mention I need to earn my keep. Cleaning and cooking is what I do. Plus, all these crow eaters around here are getting sloppy, they need a women around who knows what she is doing. Gemma is busy with the garage and her grandbabies, so I’m taking charge.” A huff comes from the doorway, as one of said sloppy crow eaters walks by the door. Never being someone who takes shit from anyone I walk toward the door to give her a piece of my mind when I feel Tig’s arms on my hip, pulling me back into the kitchen.

“Don't let them get to you Y/N, and no you don't have to do this stuff. The guys can fend for themselves”.

“Who can fend for themselves? I’m completely lost without the lass” Chibs comments as he walks into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee. His comment makes me smile, I know he is just trying to get a rise out of Tig.

“Make sure to add Bacon to yer list love, then tomorrow ye can make biscuits for breakfast” Chibs give me a quick kiss on the cheek as he dodges a playful punch from Tig.

“Get out of here ya buzzard” Tig states, kicking toward Chibs who is now laughing his way down the hallway.

“I’ll need some cash to go to the store” I inform Tig as I start to look through the fridge. Just as I suspected. Some moldy cheese, and what I am assuming was once milk. I shudder as I look at the date.   “When I get back from the store those whore out there are in for a rude awakening”.

“You tell em’ darlin. You, Gemma, and Tara run things around here and they need to know it”.

I stand up and now Jax is in the kitchen, giving Tig a nod toward the Chapel.

“Look doll, don't go anywhere by yourself. I am going to have one of the prospects go with you to the store. I’ll send Phil, he’s strong as fuck so you don't have to carry everything by yourself”.

I know the reason Tig wants a prospect to go with me is because of the assholes who chased me here. But I keep my mouth shut as he hands me a wad of cash.

“Hey, prospect! Get in here!” Tig yells as I hear what sounds like a giant running through the clubhouse. Two men appear in the doorway, is huge! The other is small, skinny, and looks like he hasn't eaten in weeks. My heart goes out to him. I am going to make a huge dinner tonight.

“Phil, go with Y/N. Do whatever she tells you to do, understand”? Rat, go out and inform the crow eaters that when Y/N gets back they are to adhere to her every command”. The smaller guy runs off as Phil nods, and stands in the hallway, waiting for orders.

“Be careful out there. You packing”? Tig asks as I grab my list off of the counter. I nod and glance toward my purse.

“Good, be safe doll”. To my surprise, Tig takes my hand in his and places a kiss on the back of it before heading to the chapel. “If anything, and I mean anything happens to her, it's your balls, and you’ll never patch”. Tig threatens as he slaps Phil on the shoulder and goes to join his brothers.

“Do you like Strawberry or chocolate covered cheesecake?ate” I ask Phil as I hold up the two kinds of yogurt.

“Ma’am, I’ve never eaten yogurt before” he admits to me, looking down at his feet.

I can’t help but laugh at this gentle giant. “Well, we will just have to fix that” I laugh as I toss a couple of yogurts into one of our two carts. I may not be able to do much in the way of money, but I’ll be damned if I just sit around and do nothing while I am at the clubhouse. Phil and I are walking through the produce section, and I am tossing potatoes, carrots, and salad mix into the cart when I feel it. A set of eyes on us. Not the normal glance of a stranger, but the intent gaze of someone who knows us. I look around as if I am searching for something, but scan my surroundings. I don't see anyone, but I can't shake the feeling.

“Phil, let’s get out of here,, ” I tell the prospect who is giving an avocado a strange look. I think he feels the eyes on us as well. He’s scanning the area, like someone who has been on edge his whole life.

We quickly check out and began to load the groceries into the bed of my truck. Phil even walks with me as I return the cart to the store. Safely back in the cab, he locks the doors and puts the key in the ignition. That’s when we hear the sound of a gun firing and my back window shattered behind us.