#sorry it's not the 80s but i figured everyone else would have those covered

[perexcri]

best friends, ex-friends til the end (better off as lovers and not the other way around) - [byler week 2023 - day 2]

aka the byler/goncharov au i needed so badly i had to write it myself

title from: bang the doldrums by fall out boy

dedicated to: my commitment to the bit

special thanks to: @cherryisgone for providing me some much-needed poetic Italian for everyone’s favorite Scorcese film

tw: mentions of falling out of a window and blood, guns

The Naples skyline burns with light in the encroaching fog of the night. His back to the stones of the tower, Mike heaves several ragged breaths, and he tries not to think about how steep of a fall it would be down to the town square below. He imagines it’d be quick: his bones would snap, his blood would spill, and there’d be his body, an example laid out on the streets of Naples for all to know the folly that is trying to outrun who you once were.

The sting of vodka on the tips of tongues, frigid nights spent maneuvering through the streets of Leningrad in search of their next hit. Being smuggled onto a rusted plane down to the coast of the Tyrrhenian Sea, El nestled beneath his arm, just the clothes on their backs and the jewels on her wrists and neck and ears. Nothing makes sense–it hadn’t for a long time–and for so long, he’d been able to stay just ahead of it.

But now, the entropic forces of this chaotic life are clawing at him, gesturing him down to the street to achieve a silent and still end.

He sighs, and the glowing yellows of the skyline blur in his eyes. He can’t tell if it’s from the mist blowing off of the sea or the tears that threaten to break free from the tight hold he put on them long, long ago.

Behind him, the clock ticks and ticks and ticks–

Until its rhythm breaks: in the breaths between each tick, there’s the clicking of shoes on stones.

The gun digs into Mike’s back, right where it rests against his hip, ready to be drawn by his quick, willowy fingers.

“È questo che sono per te, ora? Soltanto qualcuno che non puoi incontrare alla luce del sole?"

“Quit the front,” Mike growls, just loud enough to be heard over the heartbeats of the clock. It had been years since he’d last spoken Russian, and despite the familiarity that will always be afforded to his native tongue, the consonants sound too harsh and aspirated in his mouth, stretched like taffy under years spent in hiding among the Italian elite.

Will scoffs from where he stands in front of the clock, its second hand ticking menacingly behind him, its gears in an endless whirl behind the clock’s face. The hand moves from behind his legs to crowning his head before he bothers to slip into that shared language of theirs that transcends words and physicality, that which fills the spaces of silence between their every pulse and breath. “And why did you want to meet me here?”

Mind spinning with the centrifuge that always comes from standing on the edge���of one’s life, of destiny, or simply the jut of a clocktower’s window–Mike looks upon Will for what feels like the first time in ages, though it had only been a mere day ago when they’d strolled down the city’s streets under the cloak of night, and he’d held an apple out to his old friend’s paint-stained hands, a silent plea for help in a quest Mike knows he’ll never complete. The pressure of years of hiding from his own desires, being on the run from his own troubled past, and being caught in the twisted web of that sickness which has poisoned all of humanity breaks all at once, and it is all too easy to pull the gun from its holster, click the safety off, and point it at the heart of the only person he’s ever truly loved.

For love is a kind of violence, after all.

“Hm,” Will hums with disinterest. He calmly reaches into his pocket, withdraws a cigarette, and sticks it between his teeth. When he pulls out his lighter, it has just enough time to make the end of the cigarette glow before being snuffed out by the ever-ticking hands of the clock.

Mike’s hand shakes in time with it, always falling into that rhythm of life he’s sought so hard to be free from, caught in an endlessly looping maze he sees no escape from.

Tick. Shake.

A thick puff of smoke falls out of Will’s mouth.

Tick. Shake.

Mike grits his teeth together.

Tick. Shake.

Will cocks an eyebrow at him. Well?

It doesn’t take much for Mike to squeeze the trigger: that indelible pressure which has filled his chest for so long has finally found release, and it presses hard against the metal, letting the gun’s ignition do the work of his anger for him. He can almost feel time stretch thin as the trigger clicks down, as the bullet flies from the gun, as it sails through the tight air between them, aiming straight and true–

Will doesn’t bother to flinch as the bullet lodges straight into the second hand of the clock. Its gears whir on, but its other hands tremble and groan with agony, time itself bleeding from the wound.

Mike swallows against what feels like sharp, jagged pieces of glass in his throat. Despite the clock’s faulty motions now, he can still hear that eternally derisive tick in his mind, a permanent reminder of the life he is chained to.

With a great intake of breath, Will pulls the cigarette away from his lips, lush with warmth from the tobacco and drizzled in moonlight. He shakes out the ashes from its end as he lets another mouthful of smoke dissipate into the night air.

“Time is something you can’t stop, Mike,” he says in a harsh, scraping whisper. He tosses the cigarette onto the ground, stubs it out with his heel, and turns away.

For a single moment, his hand clenches at his side, as if there’s something more he wants to do, reining himself in from saying anything more than the cold, empty phrases they’re now left to exchange and fill with this shared language of theirs.

When he finally leaves, Mike’s eyes drift from the cigarette stub, up to the clock and how its gears grind on, even as its hands remain still.

This time, he lets the tears fall.

- - -

Here’s what Will says in Italian (courtesy of Cherry): Is this what I am to you now? Just someone you can't meet in the sunlight?

[unfriedough]

‘Burden’- Zuko x fem!reader

Masterlist <3

An: GOOD DAY FRIENDS. Today, I have decided to finish this story WOOO. Also, school started so if you thought I was barely uploading, just wait and see LMAOO. Sorry for the wait, I had no ideas or motivation. Oh well, enjoy your read.

Summary:

Yn has hanahaki, but her friends aren’t aware. But when a certain boy jumps to a conclusion, the truth comes out.

Ok wait a sec, if you don’t know what hanahaki is, you should look it up, it’ll make more sense if google explains it :)

Warnings: Hanahaki, angst but it’s not sad in my opinion, blood.

How pathetic.

Ever since the ever so wonderful day you just had at the western air temple, you knew you were screwed.

Like you were in for a ride.

After your magical field trip with the new group member, befriending him came easy. Zuko was smart, and funny, not to mention he was easy on the eyes - not that you would ever admit that though.

But oh of course, nothing goes well for your group.

Situated in a large circle, everyone slowly ate their breakfast, exchanging chit chat and occasional banter. However, things went south when you felt your food come right back up.

You coughed and covered your mouth, trying not to throw up, all whilst getting up to bolt to quite literally anywhere else.

“My cooking isn’t that bad!” Sokka whined, watching you gag.

“I think Yn disagrees,” Katara smirked.

As soon as your feet were on the ground, you sprinted to the far end of the temple, curious looks following your retreating figure.

Once you got there, you opened your mouth over the large cliff. But to your surprise, the contents of your stomach didn’t come out, but about 7 small, rose petals fell out.

“What? What did Sokka put in the food?” you whispered, confused.

You walked back to the group circle, and asked the question that poisoned your mind:

“Sokka, what did you put in the food?”

“OH C’MON IT TASTED GOOD!”

“Sokka, what was in it.” you said, desperately.

He proceeded to begrudgingly list a bunch of ingredients, none of which were whole petals. This was not good.

“Thank you,” you thanked him quietly.

Hopefully it was a one time thing.

☆════ ⋆★⋆ ════☆

So it was not, as a matter of fact, a one time thing.

Your days began becoming plagued with aggressive coughing and pretty petals, as well as the occasional crimson red syrup.

Training, hanging out, speaking, even just sneezing became a horrible feeling. Yeah, things weren't great at the moment. But hopefully, you’d find a solution, you always did!

You decided to keep this to yourself early on, because everyone else had their own problems, besides, coughing up flowers is no big deal. May as well make a flower crown with your infinite source!

Today was a break day. Shopping, watching a match, scamming people, the usual for cheats like today. Though instead of participating in any of those activities, you were determined to get diagnosed.

“So, wanna come with us? Aang and I are going bag shopping!” Sokka smiled brightly.

“Actually, I had a better idea in mind,”

“OH? Spill!”

“Nah, it’s private,”

“WHAT!”

“Yeah only cool people go,”

“Then who the hell let you in?”

You had half a mind to punch Sokka where the sun didn't shine, but alas, your friendship with Katara was far too important to risk.

You left shortly after, 8 coins on you. You had a destination, and you were going to get there somehow.

Speed walking up to a small hut, you knocked softly on the door, inhaling sharply once it swung open. A lady, appearing to be in her 80’s, opened up the flimsy door, and eyed you.

“Hello, are you Kya?”

“Yes, dearie, are you here to be healed?”

“Yes,”

“Come in,”

☆════ ⋆★⋆ ════☆

“So yeah, in a nutshell.” you finished explaining your current situation.

“Oh my,”

You screamed internally at her somewhat poor choice of words.

“I’ve only heard about this tale in children's books, and myths. Never in my life have I met someone with Hanahaki.”

“Hanahaki? Like the made up disease hanahaki?”

“Yes,”

“Oh.”

Oh indeed.

☆════ ⋆★⋆ ════☆

Needless to say, you walked out 8 coins lighter, and 8 times more scared.

You all regrouped at the camp, or atleast planned to.

The rest had been late, so you sat near the fire, only to find Zuko walking back from his tent. He sat next to you, sending you a small smile.

“Hey,”

“Hi,”

After that short interaction ended, he tilted his head up at the sky, the sunset colors lighting his face in an indescribable way. Zuko looked gorgeous.

Suddenly, your entire body racked with harsh coughs, flowers and petals exiting your body, and falling into the hand that cupped your mouth. The firebender looked at you worriedly, his hand coming to rest lightly on your back.

“Are you okay,”

You nodded, using your other hands to give him a thumbs up.

He looked at you with the most concerned expression one could imagine, maybe the thumbs up gave you away.

You got up shortly and neared the fire, discreetly disposing of the blossoms in your palm.

Although, you weren’t discreet enough.

“Are those flower petals?”

Your eyes widened as you turned.

“D-did you cough up petals?”

“Zuko I-” you were cut off by a loud voice, Sokka.

“Yn! Zuko! Why do y’all look so serious?” he said happily.

“Nothing,”

“No reason,”

“Anyways, I bought this new bag and...” that was the end of that conversation. You hoped so anyways.

☆════ ⋆★⋆ ════☆

You were giggling at a joke, made by the self proclaimed comedian of the group, when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

Looks like you're not in the clear just yet.

“Zuko?”

He motioned towards the rooms at the western temple, probably his own, and walked a few steps back. You got up and followed him, suspicious eyes following you and Zuko.

“I bet they are finally going to kiss.”

“You’re on, boomerang.”

☆════ ⋆★⋆ ════☆

“So uh, why’d you bring me here?” you said innocently, tapping your shoes against the ground.

“Who’s the guy?”

Your head shot up from the ground to stare at Zuko’s face.

“Hanahaki. You coughed up flower petals, correct?

The blank expression on your face confirmed his suspicions.

“So who is it?”

You sat down next to him on the bed, thinking about how you were going to get yourself out of this situation.

“Does it even matter?” you said after a sigh.

“Of Course it does, you could die!”

“Well, he has feelings for another girl!” your voice cracked.

Mai. Nothing in particular against her, but just her name ran cold chills down your spine.

You cupped your face into your hands, shaky breaths escaping your mouth.

“He’s in love with another girl, and I’m going to die because of it.”

“Have you asked him?”

“Well, no but-”

He put a finger on your lips, to which you furrowed your eyebrows at.

“Then you don’t know.”

He dropped his hand.

“It doesn’t matter, I won’t tell him.”

“Well why not?” he whined

“Because, Zuko, I don’t want to burden him like: hey man I know you like another girl but now you kinda sorta have to date me because I’ll legitimately die if you don’t!” You grinned sarcastically, adding finger guns and a terribly executed wink.

“Fair enough, but who’s the guy?”

“I can’t tell you.” you sighed again.

Now it was his turn to be confused.

“Why not?”

“I just can’t,”

“I just wanna help, please?”

“Because then things will never be the same between us!” You said in a moment of panic.

Your hand flew up, cupping your mouth.

His face scrunched up as he thought.

“What does this have to do with me?”

Yn.exe is unable to think.

“Nothing, it’s just that you know him an-”

Your rant was cut short when he pushed you against the wall, face mere inches away from yours. His breath rendered hot against your skin, sending shivers through your body. His lips were so close to yours, even a twitch could cause a collision. His eyes fanned shut, ready to begin the kiss.

He felt you slip out of his grasp, and fall onto your knees. You coughed relentlessly, flower petals falling out, along with blood.

The close proximity caused your hanahaki to skyrocket, and you were still unsure if he really meant to test you, or to actually kiss you.

“Was it me?” he asked after your coughing fit.

You looked up at Zuko, who towered above you.

“Yeah” you said quietly, trying to avoid rejection.

You stood up, and attempted to leave, before a hand pulled you into the firebender. The kiss was sweet, and passionate. Firm, yet gentle. It was perfect. He was perfect. Your hands made their way to his chest and hair, whilst he held your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to the desperate prince. Once you pulled apart, both of you panting, however still not letting go of eachother

“Does this mean you like me?” you asked, staring into his amber eyes.

He shook his head lightly, and your eyes widened at his next statement.

“It means I love you, Yn.”

An: I don’t have much to say so uh, As always, hope you enjoyed this story, SEE YA! <3

[dragoncityinteriordesign]

Zhao Yunlan’s office is as chaotic and inexplicable as he is. I need to take this thing in halves. From the doorway, let’s start from the right side.

Of note:

The grates. Several times, Zhao Yunlan closes the blinds over the glass wall so he can have a private meeting. However, not only do those grates not have any shades to cover them, I’m pretty sure they’re just open to the air (like the ones beside the interrogation room). I guess everyone else out there has just gotten real good at pretending not to listen. (I’m picturing Lao Chu on the other side, shaking his head and mouthing, ‘Sorry, can’t hear you!’ when Zhao Yunlan tells him to do something.)

Empty magazine sling. It took me a long time to figure out what this was, because why would you put a magazine sling up on a shelf like that, and why would you leave it empty? But nope, there it is.

Corner spotlight. This set is clearly a challenge to illuminate, as evidenced by all the freestanding light sources.

Comfy chairs. Those chairs feel weirdly familiar to me, like every house I went to in the ‘80s had at least one of them hanging around. Probably just my imagination.

The putting mat. You know that’s what I was working up to. The fact that the putter moves around from scene to scene -- sometimes it’s lying on the green, sometimes it’s leaning against the wall -- indicates that it, like the exercise equipment, gets some offscreen use over the course of the series. I can’t see Zhao Yunlan actually being into golf, though, so I’ve decided it’s a stealth cat cardio setup: Zhao Yunlan hits the ball; Da Qing dashes over to knock the ball away before it can reach the hole; Da Qing is satisfied because he has committed kitty mischief; Zhao Yunlan is satisfied because he got Da Qing to break a sweat. [EDIT: My brilliant wife suggests he first acquired it because Zhaddy gave it to him, telling him it was a good way to hobnob with important political figures, and Zhao Yunlan was like, fuck you, Dad, I’m gonna use it to exercise my cat.]

[wizkiddx]

i saw that you at least used to write for harry could u do another? like maybe im just a basic bitch but 'only one bed' trope or sm

Summary: honestly just me shitty attempt at the only one bed thing ahah with Harry Holland x reader

no warnings I don’t think apart from my ramabling :)

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

God you were groggy. It had been a long 16 hour flight and you were well and truly completely over this day. Once you’d had some proper sleep, no doubt you will be beyond excited to explore the forest and beaches of this remote island in Indonesia. You were certain it was beautiful, even if you’d arrived in the dead of night so you couldn’t see any of the majesty yet. It was one of the joys of being Tom’s makeup artist - travelling the world and being paid for it? A literal dream. 

Except maybe the previous 24 hours. The Holland name carried a lot of weight in the world, but not enough to control typhoons across the tropics - there were some limitations to his power. And yes first class lounges were nice but none had beds to crash on during the 6 hour weather delay. The four of you (Tom, Harry, Andrew and yourself)  ended up camping out in a out-the-way corner. Tom got the long sofa; Andrew in one of those weird egg line chairs; you and Harry splayed on the floor. Why you’d had to get up at 4 am to catch a flight that was now not departing till 12 hours later actually hurt to think about - especially because you’d all gone out for a meal the night before that had inevitable went a lot later than planned. 

Two connecting flights with a very angry baby later, the four of you were checking in to the only hotel on the island - which was now almost exclusively filled with the production team for Tom’s newest movie. It wasn’t especially big-budget with massive million pound overheads, instead a smaller scale indie film (that you privately thought might earn Tom a number of accolades). But yeh, shooting on an island that received almost no tourism meant everything was different to the usual. None more so than for Tom and his team (including you) who he normally would look after very well, with the nicest hotel rooms or rental homes. 

The hotel was basic, you’d known that before you arrived but seeing is believing is it not? Most entertaining though, was seeing Tom’s face. Andrew was a well travelled older guy, he had stayed in some shitholes in his life. Equally you and Harry had both travelled when you were younger (you through inter railing and him in australia), so had stayed in hostels before. But for Hollywood star Tom Holland? The way he tilted his head to the side as if to say ‘really this place?’ did lift your spirits momentarily. 

Andrew had got his key first, bidding you all good night with a grunt, then Tom - who still seemed confused as to the whole arrangements. It left you and Harry at the small dingy reception, the warm glow of an old lantern-esque light fixing illuminating the place. The guy behind the desk was a smiley local and greeted you warmly, if incorrectly.

“Ah and finally the couple I see!” He spoke with a thick accent but still very clear English which had you questioning if this was just a translational error. Harry looked at you instantly, his eyes wide which made you scoff - him joining in, shaking his unruly curly mop emphatically.

“No no we um… we aren’t together.” All the while Harry pointed between the two of you, communicating through actions rather than just the language, given that you were both the very typical Brits abroad who hadn’t learnt the language of the place they were visiting. 

“Still under Holland name?” The guy asked in a perplexed manner, flicking through a book filled with cursive scribbles and scanning to see if he’d made a mistake. He checked one, then looked up nervously before checking the same page once again- you saw where this was going. ”We, we only have couples room down for you though? 3 double rooms is the booking for Holland.” 

It was late, you both stunk of a combination of plane and BO, you both just wanted your individual and respective beds. 

“Well can we get another room then?” Harry didn’t quite snap but there was still an impatientcy to his voice, which came out whenever he was a little agitated. Seeing the slightly worried look the mans eyes, you leaned onto the desk with a genuine smile. 

“Sorry we know its last minute and its not your fault, we’ve just had a really long flight.”

“I am terribly sorry miss but we are only small hotel and Hollywood has filled us up. I have no other rooms. I am truly sorry sir, ma’am.” The guy went from looking worried to terrified as Harrys jaw tensed up, you naturally squeezed his arm to try and ground him, instantly deciding that you’d just work it out. 

“No no it’s not your fault, don’t worry we’ll figure it out. Can I just get the key?”

Harry stepped back and let youtakeover proceedings, signing all the insurance documents etc and asking the man about the breakfast arrangements and such, though you saw him furiously typing on his phone and by the buzzing in your pocket- presumed he was messaging the group of you Tom, Andrew and himself. 

Once finished the guy pointed you on your way, up two flights of stairs and down a hall. The whole time Harry was muttering about how useless the other two were for not replying and also for making the wrong booking in the first place. If only you hadn’t been the last two to checkin, then it would’ve been someone else’s problem.

He felt especially guilty just because you were the only girl-  he didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable, hence why he was trying to locate his brother so they could share tonight till they got it figured out. The tension, combined with sleep deprivation, was palpable as you both walked in silence toward the room - Harry was trying to formulate a plan in his head as they did so. And honestly? You just couldn’t be bothered to deal with it. So, once you reached the door 57 holding the physical key (old school, rather than a key card) you just decided to address it. 

“Will you chill please?” 

“Well if my idiot broth-“

“Oh leave him be for god sake. If you’re okay with it I really don’t mind sharing with you tonight?” Not bothering to laugh at his slightly shocked expression with mouth hanging a little open, you fiddled with the key until the lock clicked open. From the entrance you had a pretty clear view of the whole room and… well, lets just say dated would be a fair expression - when compared to what you were used to? The floor was tiled and the bed was a small double, with some funky and slightly washed out prints of blue and red on the cover. The pillows looked a little limp, more like glorified pieces of cardboard than anything fluffy and comfortable. The walls were that yellowy magnolia shade that everyone in the UK had gone insane for in the 80s and there was an old school wooden wardrobe in the corner. 

Home for 5 weeks. 

With a shrug of your shoulders you entered, dumping your personal and work suitcases by the far wall carelessly - the higher priority action being to collapse on the bed. Doing so with an overdramatic huff, you let your eyes close but payed special attention to the delayed footsteps of Harry as he entered, then the slight creaking noise as he perched on the other side of the bed - no doubt looking at you, at least slightly fearfully. 

The relationship between you and Harry was complex to say the least. Well no… it should be, not on the face of it. You had met through work and made friends. And you wished it was that simple but alas, nothing ever really is. When you’d first worked with Tom you were in the tail end of a relationship you had long since forgotten about - literally meaningless, not worth the time and effort you’d put into it. From the start you’d had a feeling Harry was more interested in you than the average co-worker (even if your job and therefore co-workers were anything but normal and average) but you were in a relationship so nothing ever came. 

Then almost as if synchronised, just as you got out your relationship, Harry threw himself in the deep end with a girl he’d met through his family friends. Then the roles were somewhat reversed, you now spent a good chunk of your day just entertaining yourself with thoughts of the curly headed, slightly awkward, very-passionate-about-tea-making Holland. The cliche is so real - your always want what you cannot have. 

However, a couple months ago his relationship had fizzled and faded away leaving both of you in a sort of no mans land. The sort of not wanting to ruin the friendship situation. The subject was never broached by either you - except you assumed he was being tormented in a similar way to how you were by his big brother and Andrew. Never publicly, yet whenever you found yourself alone in a room with one of them (being Tom’s makeup artist that happened often enough) there would always be a sly dig. The chemistry was  so ‘obvious even a blind man could see it’. Somehow though, weeks of this and your were still stuck. Stuck in the middle. 

“You sure you’re alright with this?” His voice was gruffer and hoarser from the long journey but you could hear the self-consciousness and naivety in his tone, without having to peel your eyes open and look at his face. 

“I know your not a murder and plus, we shared the airport floor this morning… this is pretty much the same.” He hummed in acknowledgement so you carried on “and plus your pint sized.” That earned you a playful shove in the side as you sniggered, before pulling yourself up so you we now sitting next to him, legs hanging off the edge of the bed. His brown eyes searched deeply into yours, as if physically checking for any hint of regret or hesitation. “Don’t even dare offering to go on the floor.” 

“Okay okay okay!” Holding his hands up in surrender, you both laughed, breaking the peace of the late night of the remote Indonesian island. Once an impressive yawn interrupted you though, Harry proclaimed it was time for bed and shooed you into the bathroom to get changed and sorted. 

Honestly you were too tired and lazy to dig out your cleanser and skin stuff, instead opting to just splash a bit of water on your face before swapping into your pj shorts and an old tattered oversized tee. Once done you and Harry swapped, him coming out a couple minutes later in basketball shorts and a black loose fitting tee. 

It wasn’t awkward so to speak, more a sort of excited-tense atmosphere, which there was no doubt Harry was mainly responsible. The boy was jittery and on edge, which to put simply, you didn’t have the energy to reciprocate. 

With a quiet wish of goodnight to each other, Harry flicked off the bedside lamp and you both rolled to your respective edges of the bed, a large space of no mans land between you. In the middle. You know the first time you share a room with someone and you overthink everything? When you don’t want to move about or fidget too much in case it disturbs the other? When your listening intently to their breathing, in the hope it’ll even out and only then will you feel able to fall asleep yourself? 

Well it doesn’t work when both of you are doing it. When both of you are professional over thinkers. 

God knows how long it took till you gave up, favouring sleep over your worries and concerns. So you flipped over, no doubt rocking the whole bed, turning to face his back that was still huddled almost teetering off the edge of the bed. The only light within the whole room was that coming under the actually scarily large gap between the floor and the door to the hallway. It was just enough to see the back of Harry’s curls and you must’ve fallen asleep trying to trace all the torturous and windy routes of the strands.

///////////

In the morning the process of waking up didn’t come easy to you as normal for many reasons; the long day prior; the jet lag; the weird surroundings. So you stayed in this sort of blissful haze for probably longer than you should. Half aware but not really; half asleep but not quite. In the middle  of sleep and alertness. Therefore it took you longer than it should have to notice the extra weight on the dip of your waist. Not anything alarming, just a presence you were absolutely not used to. It was only when you shifted a bit to lie further on your back, that enough of a stimulus from the added pressure made you actually open your eyes blearily. And sure enough, a limp hand looked to have casually and unconsciously been thrown over your side. 

As if in slow motion, you traced the arm backwards - first with your eyes, but then having to twist your neck too. Only then could you fully see the browny ginger haired boy who was lowkey spooning you? It was certainly a way to fully wake you up, breath halted to a stand still in your lungs, in fear of disturbing him and having to confront what would almost certainly be an awkward situation. 

There was still a safe hands width distance between the two of you except for the rogue arm. Harry’s head was placed to the edge of his pillow, mouth slightly parted as his breathing slightly tickled the wispy hairs on the back of your neck. He looked so peaceful and calm - a difference to the normal Harry who, even on a good day, took great pleasure in meticulously picking things apart and being a bit cynical. It was part of his ‘charm’; but seeing him like this was a type of vulnerability he rarely chose to show. 

To be fair he was asleep, he dint realise he was exposing himself in this way.

Finding yourself a little transfixed (a bit creepy but hey) on the natural curves and definition of his face, you ever so carefully rolled over in the bed to face him. It stopped you from craning your neck and gave the sleepy boy a slight nudge, making him tense his arm a little more tightly round you. 

He settled quickly though, giving you ample opportunity to just observe what was going on . Both right in front of you… and what the hell was going on in your head. Because to be honest it was an overwhelming amount of emotion thoughts for the early morning. 

Somehow you must’ve eventually drifted off once again because the next thing you were aware of was a shuffling from immediately next to you. This time though, you were instantly aware of exactly the situation you found yourself in and chose to keep up the pretence of sleep - a little interested in how Harry would play it. 

You heard a small gasp, having to suppress a chuckle at what you imagined Harry’s sleepy and panicked face looked like. That lasted a couple of moments, before you felt him painstakingly slowly peel his hand from your waist and if you were being 100% honest… you heart sort of sank. 

What you had been expecting?- you don’t know and really there was really no reason to be disappointed. Yet, you still felt this deflated and disappointed feeling, hit your chest especially hard. Perhaps it was because of your focus on that emptyness that you forgot you were supposed to be pretending to be asleep./.

Because when he had delicately brushed the side of your face to tuck a rogue bit of hair behind your ear - your eyes flickered open.  Like a rabbit caught in headlights, Harry froze, his hand still hovering over your jaw. Equally, you didn’t know what to do. Because really… do friends tuck hair behind the others ears? And do friends look at each other with this matched expression of confusion and fear? 

It took a painfully long time (though in reality was probably only a matter of seconds) before the boy retracted his hand, suddenly sitting up from his reclined position down at you. Mirroring his actions, you both ended up sitting, facing the opposite wall, bodies closer than they needed to be in the double bed. Both still very much in the middle. 

“I er-“

“-No no don’t… was nice of you” He had been about to apologise which you didn’t want to hear. You didn’t want to hear ‘ I didn’t mean it’ - you wanted him to mean it. In response Harry nodded jerkily, and from your peripheries, noticed he was searching your face for any sign of emotion.

“Still can’t believe this all happened… I-I didn’t disturb you too much did I?” He sounded really nervous. You were never like this with each other. So static and forced. 

“No no… I slept really good actually.” Your register was quieter, waiting till you’d finished speaking before looking over at him with a self conscious smile. 

“Ah I’m glad… I um-I did too.” The silence returned and the atmosphere just felt sharp. It felt like you were quite literally walking either side of a knife edge. It made you chew on your bottom lip, playing with the slightly frayed edges of the vintage quilt. 

“Y/n- I look…” He’d bolted upright and voice was more raised than normal for the morning. “This is gonna sound so fucking weird, especially cos we’re literally in the same bed but... but I was thinking we could maybe go on a hike or something together?” What he seemed to be suggesting didn’t match the level of panic that was conveyed in his body language which confused you. And what the bed had to do with it… was yet to make sense in your head. 

“I think Andrew said we’re getting some tour of island this afternoon so-“

“ I kinda meant just you and me.” 

The penny dropped and it had you focusing all energy on processing what was happening - understandably causing Harry to only worry more with the lack of response. “I’m sorry if I’ve ruined ever-“

“No I-I….I’d really like that too.”

“Oh er… well… really?” The sheer shock made you giggle, feeling the two of you sliding back into the normal dynamic.

“Normally a boy has to buy me a drink before he gets in my bed but….” A mischevious smirk that spread across your lips gave Harry the final confirmation that just maybe you were interested too, making him scoff and quietly chuckle.

It was odd; mainly because this was the two of you being incredibly vulnerable and honest with each other - something that you hadn’t allowed yourself to be for fear of messing things up. And then one lazy morning, both with morning breath and slightly puffy eyes, it changed. For the first time when you looked at him, he really saw - and vice versa. You were still in the middle of something, yet it was completely different. 

This time you were in the middle together figuratively as well as literally. In the middle of the bed, closer than you needed to be, but not wanting to retreat - while you both just looked shyly and bashfully at each… Eventually you lips hesitantly met in the middle. 

[clanoffetts]

someday. | paz vizsla x fem!reader

chapter I

masterlist

synopsis: Paz Vizsla finds himself stuck on Dantooine with a broken ship and no credits. Luckily, he finds you, a mechanic that will fix his ship for passage to Hosnian Prime. Over the course of your time together, a courtship blooms.

warnings/things to note: star wars swear words; reader has hints of PTSD that will be expanded on in further chapters (and those will be tagged with stronger warnings); blatant lack of knowledge of ship mechanics; only one use of ‘Y/N’

word count: 5.1k

Dirt kicked up behind heavy boots. Hands stopped their work so heads could turn. It wasn’t often a Mandalorian showed up. Actually, one had never showed up. And this one was huge. A buff man, covered in heavy armor that had been painted blue. Even his helmet evoked fear. The townspeople were watching myth become reality. 

The large man walked into Aliria’s Shop. The shop had a name once, when Aliria’s parents had opened it, but that was some 80 years ago now. The shop had survived the Clone Wars and the Empire, not to mention the constant flow of smugglers and thieves customary to the Outer Rim. Aliria’s Shop wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. 

It was a fairly small shop, especially considering all the things packed into it. Aliria carried food, clothes, a small array of weaponry, and medical supplies. There wasn’t much in the little town, a droid mechanic, a ship mechanic, a small infirmary, and a bar. Aliria’s Shop was the hub, she had the essentials. 

The Mandalorian was like a bull in a china shop inside the store. Aliria had crammed crates, tables, and shelves into every crevice of the store. Not to mention the various pieces of merchandise hanging from the ceiling. 

“Watch it, Mandalorian!” Aliria yelled at the man as he almost hit the shelf of fruits with the huge gun on his back. She may look like a frail older woman at the age of 75, but her voice didn’t show it. Aliria’s tan skin was weathered and her body was tired, but her voice held life. She was the backbone of the community. 

The armored man let out a gruff sorry before moving on. He was looking down at his gauntlet, reading some kind of list. “Kriffing hell, how do I find anything in here?” 

“We don’t get many outsiders, Mandalorian,” she said. “But my sales associate can help you. She was an outsider once, too.”

The pitch black of his visor shifted to you. Your hair was a bit messy, as you’d just helped your co-worker unload a speeder of goods. But you smiled at him. A change of pace is always nice. You walked from behind the counter to be in front of the Mandalorian and you asked, “What are you looking for, sir?” Your customer service voice was rough, you never needed to use it with most of the customers. They knew you personally, everyone knew everyone here. 

“You got ration bars?” His voice was gruff and deep, but you couldn’t tell if that was just because of the helmet. 

“Not many,” you told him. “Maybe ten? Aliria has such good prices, no one ever needs to buy a ration bar in place of real food.” It was a sales pitch you’d been taught when training here, but it was the truth. Why pay a credit for a ration bar when you can pay a credit for instant noodles? 

He huffed a little. “I’ll take all ten.” This man was weird, you decided. “Non-perishables? Do you have any?”

“We’ve got some beans, some vegetables that won’t go bad for at least a few years, rice, and a few other things. They’re all kind of scattered around.”

“Of course they are,” he was annoyed. “Where’s the vegetables?”

You pointed through a door at the back of the shop. “Greenhouse out back. Tell me what you need, I’ll go grab it.” Reluctantly, he showed you his gauntlet. It was a grocery list. You locked the information into your mind, grabbed a basket and headed to the greenhouse. 

When you got back, he was in the same place. He must’ve seen your confusion because he said, “I’d rather not waste time looking for things myself. I figure you’d be better at it.” And you were. You helped him get everything he needed, but the list just got weirder. Baby formula, toddler sized coveralls, ammunition, a journal, and more miscellaneous items that made no sense to you. You didn’t believe a Mandalorian was going to hand write something and in a journal, no less.

You wanted to know more, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t be keen on questions. Before you’d come to Dantooine, you’d been all over the galaxy and heard stories of Mandalorians and their secrecy. 

“What brings you to Dantooine, Mando?” You ask as you ring up the last of his items, putting them in the up-cycled grain bag grocery bags. You were tired of the tense silence, Aliria had gone into the back to do Maker knows what, and the Mandalorian’s stare was unnerving. 

“Work,” he said. His visor remained unmoving, his eyes were on you. You had a feeling that ‘work’ was something either illegal or close to it. “You?”

You were surprised. And, again, he must’ve noticed. “The old lady said you are an outsider, too.”

“Was an outsider, Mando,” you correct, bringing up his total. “I came here for work, too.” He could tell you were lying, or at least not sharing the whole truth. “It’s two-hundred credits, Mando.”

He reached into a pouch on his belt, and pulled out all the credits. “That should be two-hundred.” It was. Exact change and everything. Once you’d counted the money and placed it in the register, he grabbed all his bags with ease and turned to walk out. 

“Have a nice day!” you tell him, remembering your lines Aliria insisted on. He said nothing in return.

-  

Paz Vizsla arrived back at his ship far out from the town. He put the bags of supplies for the covert in the cargo hold and cleared the message from Armorer that detailed what they needed. After the covert had to relocate, they were in desperate need of supplies. Especially for all the children who lost a buir or, Maker forbid, both buire. The children who had basically become foundlings. Paz’s heart broke for them, he tried to be the best ba’vodu, but there some things that even stories from Uncle Paz couldn’t fix. 

He’d spent the little bit of left over change from the bounty on something for each kid, even Bezza, who was old enough to be treated as an adult at seventeen. She’d lost her buire, and the least Paz could do was get her a nice, leather-bound journal that she’d been pining for. Something hard to come by in a galaxy that had moved on from physical writing. 

Paz closed the cargo hold and began moving himself towards the cockpit. He was tired, and though no one else agreed, he was getting old. Nearing 44, he was ready to just be Mr. Vizsla the teacher, Uncle Paz, and hopefully buir someday. But he was one of the Tribe’s best fighters. They needed him to keep hunting, so he did. This is the Way. 

He moved to start up the ship. It gave a groan, but lit up all the same. Paz began his takeoff procedures, but the ship wouldn’t budge. Kriff, he thought. This can’t happen. Paz Vizsla was a capable fighter, fluent in Mando’a, and a brilliant teacher, but he was no mechanic. That had always been his biggest shortcoming. I have no credits, he realized. Stuck on Dantooine with no credits. 

Dirt kicked up behind heavy boots. Hands stopped their work so heads could turn. It wasn’t often a Mandalorian showed up. But this one had now shown up twice. The awe of the townsfolk was still the same. He trudged back into Aliria’s Shop. This old woman would know someone willing to fix a ship for some food, he thought. She seems to know everything.

Except, when he walked in he was greeted by a new face. Not the saleswoman who’d helped him a few hours ago, nor was it the old woman. “How can I help you?” The boy asked. He couldn’t be more than sixteen. 

“You know anyone who’d be willing to fix a ship for a meal? Or maybe a small blaster?”

The kid shook his head. “No one around here is that desperate. I’ll go get Aliria, though. She might know someone I don’t.” The kid retreated into the back room without fully taking his eyes off Paz. 

When he returned, he had Aliria hobbling along next to him, bony hands around his arm. “Zenith says you need a mechanic? There’s a shop down the road but what he charges won’t be worth what you get,” the woman says. 

“I need someone who will work for something other than credits,” he says. “I don’t have any.”

You looked up from the datapad in the backroom. You had experience as a mechanic, you were rusty after all these years, but better than the other option, who probably learned by seeing a few pictures on the holonet. Maybe this was your ticket back out of the Outer Rim. You’d amassed enough credits to at least get an apartment for a bit until you can get work. Core Worlds always had open jobs, and you have connections. You hated to leave the little town, but it had always been the goal. You just thought it’d be many more years. 

You stepped out of the back room. “I’ll do it, Mando. I’ve got experience, I can probably fix it.” Zenith seemed surprised, but Aliria just smiled.

“I can’t pay,” he reiterated. 

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, you’ve said. We’ll negotiate the price on the way to your ship. You got tools?” He nodded. “I’ll be back tonight, Aliria. I’ll finish up inventory then.” The old woman told you not to worry about it and shooed both of you off, ready to get back to whatever she was up to in the storage room. 

As soon as the door shut behind you, you said, “Passage to Hosnian Prime. That’s all I’m asking.”

“Hosnian Prime? Do you know how long it’s going to take me to get from Dantooine to Hosnian Prime?” He was annoyed. The ship must be having a minor issue, but you were wanting a major payment. “And so far out of my way, my home is in the Outer Rim. And I’ll have no credits to refuel.”

Now you were the annoyed one. “I’m fixing your ship, Mando. You said anything but credits. My offer is passage to Hosnian Prime for the fixing of your ship.”

“How do I know you can even fix my ship? Why aren’t you the town mechanic?”

This wasn’t something you wanted to get into. You hadn’t talked about it in so long. Not since you got to Dantooine and Aliria took you in, vowing to help you back to wherever you wanted to be. “I was done being a mechanic, Mando, that’s why.”

“So you decided to work in a dingy little shop? With the galaxy’s oldest woman?”

You felt anger grow stem from the seed of annoyance. Aliria was like your grandmother. Like the whole town’s grandmother. And here comes an outsider, insulting Aliria’s shop. Aliria’s family built that town from the ground up. And this outsider insults her. “Do not speak of Aliria or her shop like that again, Mando. Or I won’t fix your ship and you’ll be stuck on Dantooine forever.”

Paz felt bad. He’d cut too deep, he’d only meant it to be a friendly dig about your job, a job most people weren’t ever satisfied with. He’d thought you’d laugh. He’d thought wrong. You walked in silence the rest of the way. 

“This is your ship?” you asked. No wonder it wouldn’t get off the ground. “Maker, Mando, what have you put this thing through?” It was dented, covered in carbon scoring, and there were chunks of it missing. You could only guess how bad the inner workings were. 

“A few altercations,” he replied. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew he was looking at this sorry excuse for a Mandalorian’s ship with love and pride. 

You laughed a little and shook your head. “I haven’t even looked at the wiring, but I think taking me to Hosnian Prime is the absolute least you could do for the work I’m going to have to do on this thing.”

“I just need it to fly,” he told you. “Nothing fancy.”

“Mando, this thing is going to pull itself apart when you try to leave the atmosphere. I’m surprised it even made it through,” you told him. 

The ship always groaned a little when Paz asked it to do things, but it always had obeyed. Without fail. Until now, of course. “It did sound a bit...pained when I arrived.” He left out the whole being fired at by ex-Imps and the harsh landing he’d made that’d landed him here. 

“Alright, I’ll go take a look, if that’s ok? And I’ll try to tell you when I think I’ll have it done.” He nodded, and pushed a button on his gauntlet, giving you access to the ship. 

-

“Bad news and good news,” you told him as you reemerged from the ship. “Bad news is this is a piece of junk and you should replace it. Good news is I can fix it and it’ll only take a few days.”

A few days. He needed to get these things back to the covert, they needed them. “Ok,” he said. “But before I take you to Hosnian Prime, we’ll need to make a pit stop on Yavin IV. I gotta get these supplies back.” You nodded, just as long as you’d be getting to Hosnian Prime at some point. 

“I’ll get started, if that’s ok?” He nodded and you retreated back inside. The external damage wasn’t as crucial as the internal, your job was going to be rough.

It was a long, hard rest of your day. The blasted ship held the humidity of the planet tightly and your coveralls were thick. You’d brought down the top half to tie around your waist, leaving you in your tank top and bra. You caught glimpses of the Mandalorian as you moved past the port holes, and he just sat there on a rock, not moving. All day. You couldn’t imagine the heat under that armor. 

When you came out of the ship again, it was night. “I’ve made good progress. It won’t be done tomorrow, but maybe the day after. If I’m lucky, of course.” And worked almost non-stop, you silently added.

“Good,” he says. “Go home and rest, dal’ika.”

You furrowed your brow. “My name isn’t dal’ika.” 

“I know,” he said, and then he moved past you onto his ship. 

“Good night to you, too!” You called. 

- 

You walked to Aliria’s small home once you got back into town. She deserved to know your plans, you thought. She’d probably even help. 

“Ah! Dear! You’re back!” she said. “I was worried the Mandalorian would take you, but then I figured you’d comm if he’d try anything.”

You smiled. “He didn’t do much of anything. Just sat there.”

“What did you tell him your price is, dear?” 

You took a deep breath and sat on the sofa next to her. “Passage to Hosnian Prime.”

“You’re leaving?”

You nodded. “It’s time,” you said. “I have enough credits, especially since I won’t have to pay for transportation.”

“What will you do there, dear?” Aliria was worried. You were a grown woman, yes, but she felt protective. 

“Find General Organa,” you said. “See if she keeps promises.” You knew she would. She always had.

Aliria gave a bittersweet smile. “I knew you’d leave someday, but I never thought of how it would feel.” Her heart was breaking, and so was yours. This woman took you in when you showed up a mess on Dantooine, she held you during nightmares, and she helped you buy the little hut you now call your own. She gave you a job and a place in the community. “You’ll do much good on Hosnian Prime, dear. I know you will.”

You didn’t know what she meant, but somehow you believed her. “Thank you, Aliria. Thank you.” You couldn’t seem to say anything else, but it wasn’t adequate to what you were feeling. You needed a stronger phrase, but you didn’t know one.

“Take care of that Mandalorian, now,” she said, trying to be a bit more lighthearted. “I’ve always thought you’d like a warrior husband.”

You rolled your eyes. All the old women in town were like this. “He barely even talks to me and calls me dal’ika instead of my name, which he hasn’t asked for, by the way.”

“He’ll warm up to you, I’m sure. Especially if he’s got to take you from here to Hosnian Prime,” Aliria said. “You didn’t talk much when you arrived, either, remember?”

Aliria always had a way of finding the good in people, even if it was hardly there. That was rare, especially this far out in the galaxy, and you cherished it. You’d learned early on not to do that, but Aliria helped you open up more. Maybe she was right, this journey would result in a new friend.

“Ok, Ali, I will take care of the Mando,” you said. “Now I think I’m going to go home. Want to be up early tomorrow to fix his ship.”

She nodded and patted your knee. “Take the speeder bike tomorrow, it seems like a long walk.” You nodded, and placed your hand over hers for a moment. “Good night, dear. Sleep well,” she said and then she shooed you out in the way only an old lady could.

-

The next morning it was cooler outside. The trees swayed gently in the soft wind, and you became grateful for the coveralls as you picked up speed on the bike. You looked the same as you did the day before, just a little less rested. There was a little sunlight, but not much, and there were still a few nocturnal animals on the path. 

Arriving at the ship, everything was still closed up, and the big Mando nowhere in sight. You contemplated banging on the door, but before you made a decision the door lowered into a ramp and he walked out. “You’re very early, dal’ika.” 

“Told you I would be. Need all the daylight I can get.”

“Indeed.”

His gaze bore down on you again. You really took in how large he was. He had to be over six feet tall and maybe even closer to seven in the armor. A few people in town speculated that he wasn’t actually as buff as he seemed and that it was just the armor, but you doubted that. 

“I’ll go ahead and get started, if that’s ok?” 

He nodded. “You don’t have to keep asking, dal’ika.”

“That’s still not my name,” you said in a singsong voice over your shoulder as you walked up the ramp. He walked over towards some of the denser areas of trees.

You tried to watch him as discreetly as possible through one of the port holes, but you had a suspicion that, somehow, he could tell you were watching. He walked over some of the logs of fallen trees that had piled up towards the edge of the clearing. He picked two large ones, one in each arm, and set them upright. Then, he placed the large stones on the top of and behind them to keep them standing. 

He retreated a few yards, and his hands slid down to his thighs. He brought two blasters back up. Ah, you thought. Target practice. 

As much as you knew you needed to begin your day’s work, you stood at the port hole and watched him fire blast after blast, and you knew he hit each spot he intended to. He moved back farther, fired some more, and then moved off at angles. You never thought you’d be attracted to a man whose face you’d never seen and name you didn’t know, but here you are. 

Finally, you tore your gaze from the beskar-covered man and began your work, getting the tool box from where you’d left it yesterday. 

-

It was noon when you walked down the ramp again. The Mandalorian had finished his shooting hours ago, and had now shed his shin and thigh armor, along with the heavy cannon he carried on his back. He was already looking at you when you stepped into the doorway. 

“Need something, dal’ika?” 

You shook your head. “Lunch time, Mando.” You pulled some kind of bar out of your pocket. “It’s got meiloorun filling,” you brag. 

“Sounds good,” he said, a little amused at what you considered something to brag about. 

You sat down on the rock opposite him. “You want one? I’ve got an extra.”

“No, thank you, dal’ika,” he replied. 

You sunk your teeth into the grain and meiloorun bar, chewed, and swallowed. “What language even is that?”

“Mando’a,” he said. “The language of my people.”

“The Mandalorians?” You ask dumbly.

He let out a chuckle, it was small, but the vocoder processed it. “Yes, dal’ika, but I thought that was obvious.”

“What’s that mean? That word you’re calling me?”

He contemplated for a moment, but finally told you. “Dal’ika means woman in Mando’a. Well, dala means woman. The ‘ika bit just means it's a nickname. It implies that you’re, well, small. It’s used for kids a lot but also for friends.” He regretted saying that, in case you found it insulting or weird. He quickly moved on. “And I definitely consider you more than an acquaintance, especially since we’ll be spending some time together.”

You looked at him. You’d never thought of yourself as small. “Well, that’s good to hear. And I think everyone is small next to you, Mando.”

He laughed again, and you took another bite. “I suppose so. What is your actual name?” You tell him, and he nods. “I can call you that, if you’d like?”

“Dal’ika is fine,” you say. You’d never really had a nickname before. “But you can call me my name, too, if you want.”

“Ok, dal’ika,” he said. “Where are you from?”

You looked at him. Why all the questions? You briefly thought of home, but closed your eyes. “Rather not say.”

He nodded, understanding. “I’m sorry that I keep saying the wrong things. I really should know better, considering I don’t like too many questions, either.”

“It’s ok, it’s not like you know what will strike a cord,” you tell him. You hurriedly finished your lunch, eager to get back on the ship in case memories of home flooded back into your mind and tears flooded your eyes. “Well, I’m off,” you say, standing awkwardly and walking back to the ship, leaving the Mando by himself again. 

You sat on the floor of the ship, one of the flooring panels removed, working on some wiring. In the back of your mind you saw your childhood home, the mountain peaks you could see from the backyard, and the neighbor kids that you’d played with every day after school. You remembered leaving. You remembered never being able to go back. 

Your hands are still in the wire compartment in the floor. You took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and smiled to yourself. Aliria always said smiling makes you feel better. It worked, and your hands began moving again, replacing and connecting wires.

-

Again, it was nightfall when you came out of the ship. The Mandalorian had all his armor on again, and he stood as you emerged. “I should’ve walked you home last night, dal’ika. It was dark when you left, I’m sorry for not offering.”

You felt your heart swell a little. He was a gentle giant, you decided. “Thank you, Mando, but I can take care of myself. Besides, it’s not like there’s dangerous people here.”

“Still,” he insisted. “I should have.”

You gave up and replied, “That would’ve been a kind gesture. I would take you up on the offer tonight, but Aliria lent me her speeder, so I don’t need an escort today.”

“As you wish,” he replied. “Just be careful, dal’ika. Hosnian Prime awaits.” He walked past you and onto the ship, just like he had the night before. 

-

The next day was almost the same, except you had to walk. Aliria needed the speeder for Zenith and supplies he was picking up from a nearby farm, but apart from that, everything was the same. You made small talk with the Mandalorian over your lunch (a star fruit bar today), and  watched him shoot his blasters from afar. You got a lot of work done today, most of the hard stuff was finished and now just needed some tweaking. You moved on to the exterior of the ship a few hours before nightfall. 

“Dal’ika,” he said as you started working on the exterior. “Only do what you absolutely need to on the outside. I’d hate to see your hard work go to waste when I get into another altercation.” 

You nodded, but replied, “I hope you don’t plan on getting into one of your altercations while I’m aboard.”

“Well, I never really plan on them, but I’ll be extra careful if it makes you feel better,” he told you. 

You smiled. “It does.”

“It’s going to get dark soon,” he said.

You nodded, opening one of the exterior panels and examining it. “I know. I just have a few more things,” you assured him. “And then I’ll take you up on your offer to walk me home.” You turned your head towards him and smiled, but what you didn’t know was that your smile brought the slightest blush to his cheeks. 

Paz sat back down on his rock while you worked on the exterior. He thought about the smile you’d given him, how you weren’t afraid of him. There’s something more to this one, he thought. Something’s made her tough, and it wasn’t this village.

Finally, you finished. “Alright,” you told the Mando as you exited the ship after putting the tools up. “It should fly, but we can test that tomorrow. For now, I need to go home.”

He nodded and stood from the rock. “Lead the way, mechanic,” he said. 

You walked a pace or two in front of him, even though he didn’t really need to be led to the town. It wasn’t like there were many of those around here, but he let you, and you rambled about the place with pride. About Aliria with pride. 

After a few beats of silence, he spoke up. “May I ask what’s on Hosnian Prime? If you don’t want to answer, just tell me.”

“An old friend,” you said and looked back at him again. This smile was different, he noticed, but he wasn’t sure how. “I haven’t seen her in a long time, but I know she still cares.” You were telling him the truth, so why did you feel like you were lying? He didn’t need to know that General Organa was the friend or why you knew her. But you almost wanted him to know. Still, you held back. 

“Oh,” he said. “Sounds nice. I’ve heard good things about Hosnian Prime.” Truthfully, he hadn’t heard anything about Hosnian Prime except that it was the new capital of the New Republic. 

“I have, too,” you agreed. “What about you? What’s on Yavin IV?”

“Family,” he said. He was telling the truth, so why did he feel like he was lying? And why was he trusting you with the planet of the covert? 

You nodded. “I figured, with all the baby stuff you bought. Is your wife a Mandalorian, too? I heard Mandos can only marry Mandos.”

He was shocked a little, forgetting that you didn’t know much about his culture. “No, I don’t have a wife. Or kids of my own. My Tribe is my family, and there are kids in the Tribe. They’re just not mine.”

“Oh, interesting,” you said, kicking a rock in front of you. You were surprised to find yourself relieved that he did not have a wife. “So, like, can you only marry inside your tribe?”

“No, dal’ika,” he laughed. “We’d end up with some interesting children if we kept it in the tribe. Some people marry within the tribe, some never marry, and others marry outsiders.” He didn’t really know how accurate his answer was. Maybe, in big tribes, people did just marry in the tribe. But the covert he belonged to was too small for that. 

You kicked the rock again as you arrived at the place it had landed. “Huh,” you said. “Guess I never thought about that.” 

“We prefer people not think about us at all,” he replied. His tone was solemn when he said this, and you instinctively placed a hand on his armored arm to comfort him. The Mandalorian was brought to a blush under his helmet again. Maker, he thought. How’s she doing this to me?

You walked into the town in comfortable silence, your arm now wrapped around his, fingers lightly rubbing the armor. It was meant as a soothing technique, but you doubt he could feel it under the layers of metal and cloth. Eventually, you neared your home. “That one’s mine,” you pointed. The house’s door was painted blue, and your flowerbed was filled with blue flowers. 

“Your house matches my armor, kebiin’ika,” he said.

A new nickname. “What’s that mean?”

“Kebiin is blue. And, you know, ‘ika is ‘small’ and an endearment.” 

“Little blue?” You ask.

He nodded. “Ding, ding, ding,” he said. “You’d pick up Mando’a quickly, I think.” You smiled at him, you spoke Basic and Huttese already, why not learn a third? He smiled back, though all you could see was metal and visor. “Are we leaving tomorrow?” 

“Yes, I think that’d be good. Tomorrow after lunch, maybe? I’ve got to pack up my stuff and say good-bye to everyone.” He nodded. He’d forgotten that you’re leaving your life behind. “I don’t have much stuff, by the way, so don’t worry about that.”

He chuckled again. “Even if you did, I wouldn’t worry. We’d find the space.” There was a warmth in his voice that made your whole body warm. You could tell he cared about the people close to him deeply if he cared about a stranger like this.

You unlocked your door and stepped inside. You weren’t expecting a good night, as you had no reason to, but you did stop yourself from closing the door all the way.

You looked up at him through the half-open blue door. “Thank you,” you said quietly. “For walking me home. It’s very kind.”

“You deserve kindness, Y/N,” he replies, as if it was painfully obvious. Then, you realized he said your name. Your real name, not some Mandalorian nickname. 

You smiled again, your lips were beginning to hurt but your face wouldn’t let you stop. “Will I ever get to know your name, Mando?”

“Someday.”

[mickeymouse-moshpit]

street lights, people

A/N: WOO I got it done on time! I’m so excited to share the second installment in my biker!Fennec x pediatrician!reader story. I appreciate how kind everyone has been and I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Thanks again to maybege for letting me tell my story in this universe. I promise that we’ll get more into Fennec’s past and why she does what she does, it just isn’t time yet. 

Rating: T

Warnings: References to child abuse with NO descriptions except that the child was admitted and seen by the trauma surgery service, I don’t think there’s anything else except for some tooth rotting fluff/flirting/smooching. 

Word count: 2.5k

Chapter Two: January 11th

“Would you just text her already? You have her number; I don’t see what the holdup is.” Boba tossed the socket wrench back into the open drawer and closed it. He wiped at the grease on his hands with a blue paper towel. “Besides, you need to take her to a BACA meeting anyway. She hasn’t partnered with us officially and needs to know more if this judge is sticking around.”

“You don’t mean—” Fennec looked up from the email she was writing.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. Get your ass up, get your phone, and tell her she should come tonight.”

“But she’s probably going to be too tired.”

“Just. Ask. Her.” He picked her phone up from where she had left it when she set up her work area for the day and held it in front of her face to unlock it. “Or do I need to call her office and pretend to be you?”

She snatched the phone away from him and opened up the conversation with you.  

Got home safe, thank you

Good. Sweet dreams, Doc -fs

Those two messages had haunted her since she sent hers. She wondered if she should have said less, or said hi in the meantime? Either way, she typed out the message.

What are you doing tonight? -fs

She set the phone down, went back to her work.

***

You picked at the sad chicken in your bowl. You really needed to do a better job of anticipating what you would want to eat through the week when you cooked on Sundays. Rolling your eyes at it, you scraped it into the trash can. You were washing the dish and its lid when you felt your phone vibrate for what seemed like the 80th time that day. Sighing, you dried it off and put it in your lunchbox and sat back down at the communal table in the breakroom. It was empty for now, the students and residents off getting work done in the hopes of not staying past sign out. You pulled your phone out and opened up the message without looking at the sender.

What are you doing tonight? -fs

It took you by surprise to be sure. You felt badly about not replying to her since Friday, but if you were honest with yourself, you knew that you hadn’t been ignoring her intentionally. The days had been long as you transitioned to your week covering this service and you barely had time to feed and bathe yourself.

Same thing I always do, try and take over the world.

And by take over the world I mean go to bed

Do you have time to come to a BACA meeting? It starts at 5:30 -fs

You considered for a moment. You had a few more patients to round on, but otherwise your job was done for the day. You looked at the time, 12:30. You could make it.

I can make that happen. Where do you meet?

The reply was almost immediate.

Boba’s Garage. There’s a makeshift conference room. -fs

Sounds good. I’ll see you there.

You walked back into the kitchen area and started a fresh pot of coffee. You wondered what they could possibly want with you; you weren’t a biker. Sure, you were stern when you were advocating for your kids, but you weren’t even close to being on their level. Well, you thought to yourself, at least you can see her in her element this time, learn what they did in more detail.

***

You hurried up the expanse of concrete to the open garage, trying not to fall but also trying not to be late. A last-minute admission had turned your plenty-of-time-to-maybe-shower-and-then-get-there afternoon into a oh-no-I’m-going-to-be-late-and-they’re-going-to-be-mad evening. You saw the open door, heard voices coming from it and hurried to it. You took a deep breath and tried to slink in unnoticed. But of course, it was a conference room. There were people seated all around it, all talking amongst themselves still. Whew.

You saw an empty chair along the wall and sat down, trying to blend in with the wall as best you could. The scrubs you wore were wrinkled and your baby hairs were sticking straight up from the day you had had. You tried to smooth them down as best you could, swearing you would have a wash day tomorrow when you had the afternoon to work from home on things for CPS. You had no idea why Fennec wanted you here, but you hoped your appearance wouldn’t take away from whatever it was.

You sat in silence as you heard her call the meeting to order. Silence fell. She controlled the room. You crossed your legs as you listened to her.

You listened to them discuss financial matters, an upcoming meeting with another chapter. Then the attention turned to the reason the club existed: the kids.

“As you all know, we’ve heard some rumors about certain kids around town. Today I got confirmation that one of them was hospitalized this afternoon.” Fennec went on to describe what the story was without naming names and your eyes went wide as you realized she was talking about the toddler you had admitted this afternoon for the trauma service. How did she know? Your team was diligent about patient privacy and none of them would ever violate that, so how did she know? “…I worked with Peli all afternoon coming up with a plan and we decided that BACA needed to get involved once this little one gets out of the hospital.”

Peli? Social work? You started putting the pieces together. That was how she knew. You listened as they discussed plans for various outcomes: if they went home, if they went to temporary placement, if there would be a hearing before they were discharged. You listened, still not sure what you were doing here but appreciating that you got to hear what they were discussing, got to know what you offered when you gave the contact card disguised as a business card for a medical supply company.

They wrapped up their discussions, started gathering their things and dispersing. You would go to Fennec, but you had no desire to interrupt her in her space. So, you sat and waited as the room started emptying and engines started kicking to life outside.  As the last person left, you stood up carefully.

“You came.”

“Of course I came, I said I would. Sorry I was late.”

“What are you talking about? You weren’t late. And I figured you would be cutting it close when Peli told me you were the one admitting the little one. I know these things take time.” You walked closer to her, perching on the conference room table to her right.

“Uh, thanks. Do you mind if I ask how you know Peli?” She had worked with you since you had started your contract.

“I don’t mind. I’m a social worker there too, I just usually work on the adult side of things. I only started getting introduced to the peds side when I got this gig.” You nodded as she spoke.

“Thank you for inviting me. I appreciate everything you all do, and I can’t tell you what it means to me that I got to learn a little more about what’s behind those cards behind the desk at the office.”

“It was Boba’s idea.” She readjusted the already perfectly stacked papers in front of her. “He threatened to call your office and pretend to be me if I didn’t invite you myself.”

You huffed out a laugh as you bumped your knee against hers.

“Then I’m grateful to the both of you. Thank him for me, would you? I—” Your eyes went wide as your stomach growled and interrupted your thought.”

“Damn, Doc don’t they teach you all to take care of yourselves? Did you eat today?”

“You know, they claim to, but it’s more ‘here’s how you can be more efficient about selfcare so that you can work more and not actually do anything about your quality of life’ and less ‘we genuinely care about you not passing out in a patient’s room or dropping dead of exhaustion.’ I hated what I brought today and had coffee and swore I was going to go to the café to get a snack but that didn’t happen, got too busy.”

She grabbed your hand and gave it a tug to get you to stand up.

“Come on, I’m buying you dinner from this little diner we all go to. You can thank Boba yourself and I can make sure you get a decent meal.”

You nodded, gave her hand a squeeze in thanks.

“Do you want me to drive?”

“Nah, it’s only a couple blocks away and besides, you’re not fit to drive right now.”

You rolled your eyes at that.

“I’m fine, I promise.”

“I know you think you are but come with me anyway.”

You nodded and she led you out of the conference room and then the garage out into the cold night air.

“I need to get my coat since we’re walking.” She just nodded and kept your hand in hers until you reached your car. You unlocked in, pulled the door open and grabbed the same wool coat you had been wearing when she rescued you, pulled it on. As you locked up and turned back to her, she took your hand again.

You walked in silence, which gave you plenty of time to sneak glances at her face, illuminated in the orange streetlights as you walked. The glow and the crunch of salt under your feet was hypnotic. As you got to the diner, light snow started again, making you grateful you were at your destination. She opened the door for you and dropped your hand again so you could pull the coat off and hang it up by the door.

“Hey, Fennec! You guys sit wherever you like,” the waitress called from behind the counter. “I’ll be over in just a sec.”

“Come on, you can thank him then we’ll sit as far away from him as we can.” She laughed. You thought you were going to swoon from her laugh.

“Sounds good, lead the way.”

“Boba, this is her.”

You held out your hand and introduced yourself.

“Ah, the famous Doc. We’ve all heard so much about you from Shand here.” He chuckled and gave Fennec a knowing grin as she groaned quietly.

“All good things, I hope? I just wanted to thank you for having Fennec invite me to the meeting tonight.”

“It’s no problem. And if that judge is going to keep handling abuse cases, we’re going to need you to know what we do, how we operate. I heard from a buddy from the last district they worked that they want all depositions given on the stand in front of them.”

You groaned internally at that. Your scheduling was going to get a lot more complicated.

“Thanks again,” you said as Fennec led you, true to her word, to a booth as far away from Boba and his line of sight as she could get you the two of you. You slid into the seat and she sat down across from you. You folded your hands on the table, then in your lap. “So, um, hi. I just want to say I’m really sorry for not replying the last few days. It’s been hectic and I haven’t had a lot of time to do anything for pleasure or leisure.”

“It’s okay. You’re a busy person, your job demands a lot of you and contrary to what a lot of people think, I know you’re not some all-powerful hero. You’re a person, doing what you need to do.”

You could have kissed her.

“You have no idea what it means to hear you say that. But enough about work and my inability to take care of myself some days. How have you been?”

***

You used the last bit of ketchup on your last fry as you listened to her tell you her story, about where she grew up, where she went to school, how she landed in this town and met Boba. How the two of them started the MC and that it had started as the two of them plus Din and Paz who you had yet to meet. When you were finished, you kept listening, you could listen to her all night. But it wasn’t long before you had to stifle a yawn.

“Come on, you need to go to sleep.” She slid the bill over to her, pulling out her wallet and wrapping a few bills up in it before you could get a word in of protest. “Boba will make sure no one takes it, let’s get out of here.” She stood and held out a hand to you, which you took. The two of you made your way over to where your coat hung and walked out as you shimmied into it. You tucked your hands into your pockets and squeezed the pocket warmers before you let her take your hand again, threading her fingers through yours.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence. The snow was still coming down, just flurries now, but with the promise of more to come. When you could see your car again, you both slowed your steps, neither of you quite ready to say goodnight, but you knew you had to, or you would be just that much more tired tomorrow, more on edge. She squeezed your hand once, twice as you got to it, now dusted with the white powder. You turned to face her.

“Thank you, for dinner, for talking, for inviting me, for everything.”

“No problem, Doc, really.”

You glanced back and forth between her eyes and her lips. You took a half-step toward her, tilted your head just to the right.

She brought her other hand up, cupped your cheek before brushing your hair out of your face. Her smirk made a brief appearance before she pressed her lips to yours. You kissed her back, letting yourself get lost as she brought her arms around your waist under your coat. Yours wrapped around her shoulders in response. She deepened the kiss, slipping her tongue along your lips briefly before you let your own brush against it. She tightened her grip on you, one hand sliding down into the back pocket of your scrubs.

When the two of you came up for air, you rested your forehead against hers, letting your breathing stay in sync. She made a small noise of displeasure as she leaned back, untangling from you and your coat.

“Fuck, I don’t want you to leave. But you need to. Go get some sleep, Doc. Let me know when you get home.”

“Fine, but I want you to do the same or I might just have to worry about you.”

“I can do that. Night,” she whispered in your ear before kissing your cheek and stepping back to let you drive away in the orange glow.

Tags: @maybege @phoenixhalliwell 

[reading-writing-revolution]

Ron Howard

January 24 at 5:41 AM —

I'm a liberal, but that doesn't mean what a lot of you apparently think it does. Let's break it down, shall we? Because quite frankly, I'm getting a little tired of being told what I believe and what I stand for. Spoiler alert: not every liberal is the same, though the majority of liberals I know think along roughly these same lines:

1. I believe a country should take care of its weakest members. A country cannot call itself civilized when its children, disabled, sick, and elderly are neglected. PERIOD.

2. I believe healthcare is a right, not a privilege. Somehow that's interpreted as "I believe Obamacare is the end-all, be-all." This is not the case. I'm fully aware that the ACA has problems, that a national healthcare system would require everyone to chip in, and that it's impossible to create one that is devoid of flaws, but I have yet to hear an argument against it that makes "let people die because they can't afford healthcare" a better alternative. I believe healthcare should be far cheaper than it is, and that everyone should have access to it. And no, I'm not opposed to paying higher taxes in the name of making that happen.

3. I believe education should be affordable. It doesn't necessarily have to be free (though it works in other countries so I'm mystified as to why it can't work in the US), but at the end of the day, there is no excuse for students graduating college saddled with five- or six-figure debt.

4. I don't believe your money should be taken from you and given to people who don't want to work. I have literally never encountered anyone who believes this. Ever. I just have a massive moral problem with a society where a handful of people can possess the majority of the wealth while there are people literally starving to death, freezing to death, or dying because they can't afford to go to the doctor. Fair wages, lower housing costs, universal healthcare, affordable education, and the wealthy actually paying their share would go a long way toward alleviating this. Somehow believing that makes me a communist.

5. I don't throw around "I'm willing to pay higher taxes" lightly. If I'm suggesting something that involves paying more, well, it's because I'm fine with paying my share as long as it's actually going to something besides lining corporate pockets or bombing other countries while Americans die without healthcare.

6. I believe companies should be required to pay their employees a decent, livable wage. Somehow this is always interpreted as me wanting burger flippers to be able to afford a penthouse apartment and a Mercedes. What it actually means is that no one should have to work three full-time jobs just to keep their head above water. Restaurant servers should not have to rely on tips, multibillion-dollar companies should not have employees on food stamps, workers shouldn't have to work themselves into the ground just to barely make ends meet, and minimum wage should be enough for someone to work 40 hours and live.

7. I am not anti-Christian. I have no desire to stop Christians from being Christians, to close churches, to ban the Bible, to forbid prayer in school, etc. (BTW, prayer in school is NOT illegal; *compulsory* prayer in school is - and should be - illegal). All I ask is that Christians recognize *my* right to live according to *my* beliefs. When I get pissed off that a politician is trying to legislate Scripture into law, I'm not "offended by Christianity" -- I'm offended that you're trying to force me to live by your religion's rules. You know how you get really upset at the thought of Muslims imposing Sharia law on you? That's how I feel about Christians trying to impose biblical law on me. Be a Christian. Do your thing. Just don't force it on me or mine.

8. I don't believe LGBT people should have more rights than you. I just believe they should have the *same* rights as you.

9. I don't believe illegal immigrants should come to America and have the world at their feet, especially since THIS ISN'T WHAT THEY DO (spoiler: undocumented immigrants are ineligible for all those programs they're supposed to be abusing, and if they're "stealing" your job it's because your employer is hiring illegally). I believe there are far more humane ways to handle undocumented immigration than our current practices (i.e., detaining children, splitting up families, ending DACA, etc).

10. I don't believe the government should regulate everything, but since greed is such a driving force in our country, we NEED regulations to prevent cut corners, environmental destruction, tainted food/water, unsafe materials in consumable goods or medical equipment, etc. It's not that I want the government's hands in everything -- I just don't trust people trying to make money to ensure that their products/practices/etc. are actually SAFE. Is the government devoid of shadiness? Of course not. But with those regulations in place, consumers have recourse if they're harmed and companies are liable for medical bills, environmental cleanup, etc. Just kind of seems like common sense when the alternative to government regulation is letting companies bring their bottom line into the equation.

11. I believe our current administration is fascist. Not because I dislike them or because I can’t get over an election, but because I've spent too many years reading and learning about the Third Reich to miss the similarities. Not because any administration I dislike must be Nazis, but because things are actually mirroring authoritarian and fascist regimes of the past.

12. I believe the systemic racism and misogyny in our society is much worse than many people think, and desperately needs to be addressed. Which means those with privilege -- white, straight, male, economic, etc. -- need to start listening, even if you don't like what you're hearing, so we can start dismantling everything that's causing people to be marginalized.

13. I am not interested in coming after your blessed guns, nor is anyone serving in government. What I am interested in is the enforcement of present laws and enacting new, common sense gun regulations. Got another opinion? Put it on your page, not mine.

14. I believe in so-called political correctness. I prefer to think it’s social politeness. If I call you Chuck and you say you prefer to be called Charles I’ll call you Charles. It’s the polite thing to do. Not because everyone is a delicate snowflake, but because as Maya Angelou put it, when we know better, we do better. When someone tells you that a term or phrase is more accurate/less hurtful than the one you're using, you now know better. So why not do better? How does it hurt you to NOT hurt another person?

15. I believe in funding sustainable energy, including offering education to people currently working in coal or oil so they can change jobs. There are too many sustainable options available for us to continue with coal and oil. Sorry, billionaires. Maybe try investing in something else.

16. I believe that women should not be treated as a separate class of human. They should be paid the same as men who do the same work, should have the same rights as men and should be free from abuse. Why on earth shouldn’t they be?

I think that about covers it. Bottom line is that I'm a liberal because I think we should take care of each other. That doesn't mean you should work 80 hours a week so your lazy neighbor can get all your money. It just means I don't believe there is any scenario in which preventable suffering is an acceptable outcome as long as money is saved.

Copy & paste if you want.

[shikakunaras]

80 or 90 for shikaku/shibi

I did both. I couldn’t resist. 

80 - “Your comfort and happiness is more important than some stupid dinner.” 90 - “No more dangerous stunts.”

Ao3 link for Prompt 80

Ao3 link for prompt 90

Both are under the cut bc of length | there is minor violence and a mention of blood in prompt 90

Prompt 80 

Shikaku sat in the restaurant for an hour, eating the rolls the waiter kept bringing out and checking his watch. When the door would open, Shikaku would glance over only to see someone other than his husband. Waiting was something Shikaku was good at, but this was hard.

He expected this kind of lateness from Kakashi but not Shibi. The man was always punctual, as long as he wasn’t on a mission. Which he wasn’t, Shikaku made sure of that when they booked the place a month ago.

Wedding anniversaries aren’t a huge thing with both men but considering that they made it this long and are still alive, they realized celebrating things like this is important - especially with the threat of the 4th war looming. Shikaku was to meet Shibi here after work but was surprised to see an empty table.

With a sigh Shikaku realized that he was stood up, for whatever reason, and he paid for what he had eaten and tipped the waiter for being patient.

The walk home was full of fear that something happened to Shibi, the man did like to wander into the Nara forest and it’s mating season for the deer. Shikaku paused and took a deep breath, telling himself that Shibi was not maimed by an angry stag, he’s stronger than that. It had to be something else.

Pushing all the negative thoughts back he sped up the walk home and went straight for the back bedroom.

Shibi was sitting on the edge of the bed, with his head in hands. It made Shikaku's imagination jump start and his anxiety spike. Maybe Shibi didn't love him anymore. The Nara took another deep breath trying to dispel any negativity. Shibi didn't acknowledge Shikaku, instead he just sniffled.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Shikaku moved to sit next to his husband, placing a hand on his back.

“I’m sorry.” Shibi was quiet and reserved most days, only when he is alone with Shikaku does he let himself be vulnerable. Both men do it and they are fully aware as to why.

“For what? You didn’t do anything wrong.” Shikaku shook his head, even though Shibi wouldn’t see it. He could feel Shibi's anxious heartbeat while he rubbed his back to soothe him.

“I got to the doors and saw the crowd, the amount of people in the restaurant was too much for me today. I should’ve gone inside and told you instead of letting you sit there thinking of the worst.” Shibi finally lifted his head and sighed. His face was drawn and tired. He knew Shikaku always thought the worst outcomes. It was his job, he was paid to find holes in plans and fix them. It was no surprise that Shikaku can't just shut it off when he gets home.

“Your comfort and happiness is more important than some stupid dinner.” Shikaku smiled and Shibi returned it with a frown.

“It’s not stupid to you.”

“I just wanted to spend time with you. Shikamaru and Shino suggested the restaurant.” Shikaku shrugged and stood up. “My stomach is screaming at me to eat something other than bread. Let’s make dinner together.”

Shibi’s face scrunched up, thinking about something to say, before just nodding. Shikaku held his hand out and Shibi took it, the Nara pulled his husband to his feet and drew him close.

“The kids are away tonight.” Shikaku winked and kissed a flustered Shibi, who despite being with the Nara for twelve years, still wasn’t used to the man’s flirty nature.

When they separated Shibi raised an eyebrow and Shikaku just laughed, knowing full well the silent question his husband was asking.

“Hungry.” Shikaku led Shibi to the kitchen where very little cooking was done that night.

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

Prompt 90

Shibi didn’t register that the Juubi Bomb was headed towards Shikaku until it was too late. He stood in stunned silence as the flaming ball flew through the air over his head and off to the distance. It wasn’t until he heard Shikamaru shout at Ino and the explosion hitting the Command Post when he connected the two.

He didn’t have time. He didn’t get to tell the man he loved goodbye. Shibi felt a hand on his shoulder and he knew his son was trying to comfort him. He was in the middle of a war, he had to bottle up his anger and his sadness. Save it for when they won and they could breathe.

Which they did win. Naruto, Sasuke, Sakura, and Kakashi saved them all. Now the sun was up and they could assess the damage, it was time to heal and cry. Normally Shibi would hold off how he felt until he was utterly alone but being with someone for so long, Shikaku’s death ripped a hole in his heart. The Aburame calmly walked into an empty medical tent, sat on a cot, and placed his head in his hands - letting the sorrow out. He heard the tent flap rustle but he assumed it was just the wind, until he heard someone clear their throat.

“Dad said he was sorry he couldn’t tell you goodbye, but he wanted me to tell you that he loves you.” Shikamaru's voice was thick with emotion. Shibi noticed Shikamaru looking at him a few times while they set up camp, like he wanted to say something, now that he has spoken all Shibi wants to do is hold the kid.

“It’s okay, I understand he wanted to get the plan out and to tell you goodbye.” Shibi wiped his eyes, trying not to seem too heart broken - at least not in front of Shikamaru.

Shikamaru opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a scream. Shibi’s blood ran cold - the fear of the war not being over sent shivers up his spine. Before they could leave the tent Ino opened the flap, tears streaming down her face.

“They’re alive! All of them!” Ino nearly shouted before leaving the men in the tent, confused.

Shikamaru and Shibi exchanged a glance and then raced to see who she was talking about. It didn't take long to figure it out.

Standing in the middle of a small crowded circle was a tired looking Inoichi and Mabui. They were covered in dirt and blood but alive. Ino was clinging to her father, crying. The rest of those who were in the Command center were trailing behind, battered and bruised but alive. Shibi moved closer to the crowd hoping to see Shikaku and stopped dead in his tracks.

The Nara was sitting at Inoichi’s feet, his arm in a makeshift sling and his jonin jacket in tatters. His eyes were closed, almost like he was trying to calm himself or reset.

“How?” Kakashi was the first to ask, confusion and relief blanketed the small crowd that had formed.

“We used Mabui’s jutsu.” Inoichi looked stunned as if he didn’t think it would work.

“How did you manage to not die in process?” Tsunade took the next question.

“Shikaku came up with a plan for us all to buffer the impact of the jutsu with our own chakra. I was able to transport animals by using my own as a shield. He just took the concept and made it so I could focus all of my own chakra to transport us all.” Mabui smiled. The Raikage shouted from a distance and barreled his way towards her, happy to see his right-hand shinobi alive and well.

Shikaku finally opened his eyes and looked right at Shibi. There was warmth and love in the gaze and Shibi couldn’t stop himself from dropping to his knees and pulling his husband into a rib crushing hug. Shikamaru had joined the hug a few seconds after and they could feel Shikaku shaking. He was happy to be alive, just as much as the others holding him.

When they finally pulled apart, wiping tears and the mess they made of themselves, Shikaku let out a long sigh.

“Remember what you said to me before we split into teams?” Shikaku took Shibi’s hand and squeezed it.

“I told you no more dangerous stunts.”

Shikaku’s sly smile crept up and Shibi knew what his ridiculous husband was going to say next. Which is why the Aburame beat him to it.

“Just because this one time, it saved your ass and everyone else's, does not mean you can keep being reckless.” Shibi sighed.

“It’s okay, when I get home I’m retiring. The most dangerous thing I’ll be doing is cooking.” Shikaku chuckled.

“You retiring is more terrifying.” Shino shook his head. “That means Shikamaru is going to take over.”

“Very funny, bold of you to assume Dad won’t choose you or someone else like Neji.” Shikamaru smirked.

The boys continued to argue about who was going to take over while Shibi ignored everything and everyone around him, except Shikaku.

[ivy-alexandria-lovebot]

Here is the piece I wrote for @mechanismszine! Just a little ivy/raph/marius for the soul.

Memories 

 Ivy Alexandria woke covered in sweat and took a moment to get her heavy breathing under control before sitting up. She looked around the room, noticing that she was in a prison cell with two other people. Ivy’s eyes landed on the woman with wings sleeping next to her and she started to go through what she was slowly remembering about her.  Raphaella LaCognizi, science officer, Mechanism: her wings.

Ivy went through her memories of this woman, the first time they met, Raphaella doing some morally questionable science experiments, the two of them stargazing together on some planet whose name had long since been forgotten, the time Raphaella had “accidentally” killed Marius in the process of trying to figure out if octokittens liked to eat human flesh. Ivy knew that she had a connection to this woman, but she couldn't figure out what it was. 

Ivy looked at the man sleeping on her other side. He looked calm and peaceful. Ivy tried to remember who he was. Marius von Raum, doctor, Mechanism: his right arm. She remembered him trying, and failing, to convince her he was actually a doctor, him helping her organize the archives a few times, and the two of them feeding the octokittens together.

Next, she started to remember the events leading to her ending up in this prison cell. She could remember their arrest in perfect detail, down to the exact temperature it had been that day. She remembered the very tired looking transport police officer who’d tried to interrogate them a couple of times before disappearing. Ivy estimated there was an 80% chance he’d left because of how annoying Marius was.

Ivy didn’t have an emotional reaction to anything she remembered, save for a little amusement at Marius’s antics along with a surge of love for him.

That’s right! She loved him, and she loved Raphaella too! Ivy felt happy to have realized that. She re-remembered it every morning, and every time it made her just as happy. She started to remember more about her time with Marius and Raphaella–how they’d helped each other through their imprisonment, how they'd made each other laugh, and how they held each other when they cried. Ivy smiled at these memories as well as the knowledge that she had these two people with her right now.

The longer Ivy was awake, the more her memories came back. She remembered her time with the rest of the crew of the Aurora. She remembered cooking dinner with Brian, sitting with Ashes as they took inventory of the supplies on board, helping Tim figure out how to work a weird gun he’d found on one of the planets they’d visited, explaining to Jonny that as first mate of a pirate ship he had virtually no power, sitting with Nastya as she worked on fixing The Aurora, and laughing as an octokitten tried to eat The Toy Solider’s nose. Ivy missed them a lot now that she remembered them. But the 40 years she'd been in this prison cell was a very small amount of time in the grand scale of her very long life.

“Ivy?” a voice spoke from beside her. She turned to see Raphaella’s beautiful face staring up at her. “Good morning love,” she said, sitting up and giving Ivy a quick kiss.

“Good morning.” Ivy smiled at her girlfriend.

“Are you okay? You seem like something’s on your mind,” Raphaella said, giving Ivy’s hand a quick squeeze.

“I’ve just been remembering everything and I’m starting to miss everyone else. I don’t feel anything for them but I know when I was around them I loved them all.”

Raphaella pulled herself into a more comfortable position sitting in front of Ivy and grabbed both her hands.

“I don’t really understand how you’re feeling but I know missing people. I miss the rest of the crew too. Well, maybe not Tim, he blows stuff up a lot.”

“You do too,” Ivy interjected.

“Fair enough,” Raphaella laughed. “But I do miss the rest of the crew. We can bust out of here if you want-”

Ivy shook her head.

“Okay, that’s a relief, we still have an album to work on. What can I do to help you?” Raphaella put one of her wings around Ivy and looked into her eyes.

“I don’t know,” Ivy sighed.

“That’s okay. Can I give you a hug?” Ivy nodded and Raphaella wrapped her arms and wings around her. Ivy leaned into the hug and buried her head in the crook of Raphaella’s neck. They held each other like that for a while, comforted by each other’s company.

Ivy pulled away first.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Of course! Anything else I can do for you?” Ivy shrugged. “Do you think a distraction would be helpful?” Ivy nodded. “Alright, let me think of something we can do that won’t cause too much chaos.”

“Chaos?” Marius yawned and opened his eyes. “I can help you cause chaos.” He sat up in bed and turned to look at Ivy and Raphaella.

“I was thinking a nice breakfast together would be a good distraction without too much chaos but with Marius there, things could definitely get out of hand.”

“Hey!” Marius threw his pillow at Raphaella. She yelped and ducked out of the way. “I mean, you’re right but still,” Marius said, pouting a little.

“How does breakfast sound to you?” Raphaella said, turning to address Ivy.

“Breakfast sounds great.”

“Can I come? I want breakfast too,” Marius said.

“As long as you promise not to cause too much chaos,” Raphaella said.

“There’s only a 10% chance he won’t cause chaos,” Ivy said.

“Oh, Ivy I’m hurt!” Marius said, feigning insult. Raphaella and Ivy laughed.

“I was just stating the facts, you can still come,” Ivy said, still laughing. She gave Marius a quick kiss and then hopped out of bed.

“I hope getting out of here won’t be too hard,” Marius said, as he and Raphaella followed Ivy out of bed and started getting ready for a prison break.

***

The three immortals had a relatively easy time breaking out of prison, they could have done it at any time, but they had been busy observing the events taking place in the Yggdrasil system. Now that they had a reason to get out, they had a fun time doing it.

Ivy broke the lock on their cell; it was very simple compared to some of the others she’d broken, and the group entered the hallway. Marius quickly incapacitated the nearby guards,  stole their guns, and distributed them between himself, Raphaella, and Ivy and the group set off down the hallway.

The rest of their escape went off with very few complications. Ivy handled the security system and Marius and Raphaella handled the guards. A couple of times Ivy had to help them get past the guards. The first time she killed one was horrible. Blood splattered everywhere and Ivy started to feel sick. That feeling was quickly followed by distrust and fear of herself and a lot of guilt. She stopped in the hallway in the middle of the fight and took a bullet to the knee, but she barely registered it, caught up in the horrible feelings coursing through her.

“Ivy!” Raphaella called out to her. Ivy didn’t respond.

“It’s okay Raph, I’ve got this, keep fighting!” Marius said as he jogged over to Ivy.

“Ivy, look at me.” Marius stood in front of her, grasping her hands. Ivy looked up at him, tears flowing down her face. “Ivy, it’s okay. I know how you’re feeling. I used to feel the same way when I killed someone. But Ivy, you've got to remember, you won’t feel this way tomorrow, you can kill millions of people today but tomorrow you will forget the weight of their souls.”

Ivy wiped her eyes and took a few deep breaths.

“You’re right, thanks,” she said to Mauris before kissing him on the cheek and pulling out her gun. She still felt bad, but it was incredibly easy to ignore that feeling once she knew it would be gone come the next morning.

After an amount of murder that would terrify normal people but was pretty typical for the crew of The Aurora, Ivy, Marius, and Raphaella broke out jail and set off to find breakfast.

“Marius, do you know where you’re going?” Raphaella asked as Marius turned down a street she was pretty sure they’d been down before.

“Of course!”

Ivy sighed. “We’ve been down this street three times already. Can I just navigate?”

Raphealla nodded in agreement with Ivy.

“Just because I don’t have a brain like Ivy’s doesn’t mean I can’t navigate to breakfast,” Marius said.

“It’s not about my brain, I have a map.”

“Oh. ”

“Though my brain is very impressive,” Ivy said, grinning.

Marius looked disappointed.

“We still love you even if you can’t navigate well,” Raphaella said, giving him a friendly shove.

“I know, I just wanted to contribute to Ivy feeling better in some way,” he replied.

“Oh, I’m sorry Marius. You can navigate if you want,” Ivy said, realizing he was feeling sad and offered him the map. “Though you still helped me feel better, just by being you.” She walked over to him and hugged him. He hugged her back.

Raphealla walked over and joined the hug, enveloping both of them in her wings. They stayed like that for a while, until Marius mumbled something about being hungry and they set off to the restaurant, this time following the map.

***

Breakfast was a very pleasant affair. The three immortals found themselves at an adorable little restaurant serving classic New Midgardian breakfast food. Ivy, Marius, and Raphaella stuffed themselves on food, talked about their past adventures, and reviled in each other’s company.

Ivy felt herself relaxing after a very stressful morning. She was still missing the rest of the crew of The Aurora, but she was excited about the progress she and her partners were making on the new album they were writing. She was still feeling guilt and anger about the people she had killed getting out of the prison, but with her lovers and friends by her side, she knew she could get through the rest of the day and be okay until she could get rid of those feelings.

Ivy Alexandria looked around the table at Marius, handsome Marius, currently antagonizing Raphaella by refusing to think planets were round. She looked at Raphaella, beautiful Raphaella, her wings vibrating with annoyance at Marius, but still enjoying the debate. She looked at her lovers and smiled, she was safe, happy, and surrounded by people who cared for her. And even though she knew she'd have to relearn those facts the next morning, she felt content with being in the present with her lovers.

[gatherthesuspectspod]

Our London Podcast Festival Script

Two weeks ago, Gather The Suspects were invited to perform a short live piece as part of the Audio Drama Debuts Hour. We had such a blast and while we don’t have a recording of the brand new material we performed, here is the script we performed in full: 

GATHER THE SUSPECTS: LONDON PODCAST FESTIVAL

SCENE 1: INT: JACK AND KARA’S FLAT

JACK and GERAINT are sat in JACK’S flat. They are playing a game on the PlayStation…

JACK: Get him! Get him! Aaaaah, balls. G, why didn’t you cover me!

GERAINT: I told you I’m rubbish at this game

JACK: Are you still stuck in the doorway at the spawn point… hah - you are! What a noob! Coo-ey…Geraint...

GERAINT: Hey! No friendly fire!

JACK: Ger, you know the rules, if it’s part of the game then it’s all fair…

GERAINT: You shot my guy blank in the face… I really don’t see how that’s part of the ga- oooh, I have another life left! 

JACK: You don’t get lives anymore in games, G… this isn’t the 80s

GERAINT: What about Super Mario?

JACK: Nope… you run out of lives, you just lose coins now…

GERAINT:  I dunno, society really is beyond repair! Talking of which…what about this ‘big case’ you’ve been working on...  (reacting to the game) Ha-hah! I’m out of the door! Finally! (back to Jack) I’m guessing, as you’re sat here with me getting your arse kicked at video games... likely by some random twelve-year-olds… that it’s going swimmingly!

JACK: Hey, I’m not getting my arse kicked… I’m just… never mind that. I have a day off...Who’d have thought going undercover would be so exhausting! 

GERAINT: Yeah, to be honest, the thought of you having a job is still quite amusing, even if it is just for appearance’s sake.

JACK: Hey, what’s so funny about me having a job? 

GERAINT: (laughing) Oh, I don’t know, maybe it’s the… (Jack shoots him a look) 

GERAINT: (composing himself) Oh, you were serious... Oh, nothing…just didn’t really see it as your...um… ‘scene,’ that’s all... So, you reckon you can solve it?

JACK: Uh-huh… 

GERAINT: Aaand? 

JACK: Just uh-huh… nothing much to write home about yet, really. 

GERAINT: Jack, it’s a murder, surely there must be something exciting! Like what happened?

JACK: Angry boss…disgruntled employees... shot, by the looks of it… (reacting to the game) YES! Take that… right in the…(remembers what they were talking about)... oh, uuh… that’s about it really…

GERAINT:  “That’s about it?” Sounds like quite a big deal to me… so, you got any suspects?

JACK: That’s the problem right now… there is literally an entire office full of ‘em! But, it’s my day off and I am not thinking about it… just going to chill here and play some…

SOUND: PHONEVIBE.WAV

JACK: (Sighs)... hello…

KARA (on phone): Hey…

JACK: Hey Kara

KARA (on phone): Guess what?

JACK: The office has burned down and I don’t have to go back to work tomorrow?

KARA (on phone): Hah, you wish… no… Harrison just announced in the morning meeting that the police are coming in today to search everyone’s lockers… The whole sales team is freaking out! 

JACK: (excitedly) What!? The police are actually doing something? I can just imagine their panicked little faces!

KARA (on phone): Dai blew up at Harrison in the meeting and called it ‘an affront to his human rights...” Like, since when has douchebag Dai cared about anyone’s human rights when he’s been sleazing his way around the office. 

JACK: Ooooh, I’m coming in! 

KARA (on phone): You won’t be allowed… your card won’t let you into the building if you’re booked off on holiday… 

JACK: What about if I ask Harrison about coming in? Surely he’ll -

KARA (on phone): You’ll be lucky, he’s gone golfing. You’ll just have to wait for me to get home and fill you in on all the fun and games, I’m afraid.

JACK: Gaah! Just give me a call if they find anything, alright? 

KARA (on phone): Jack, it’s the police... they couldn’t find anything if it was surrounded by a big shiny arrow and neon writing declaring ‘I’m a clue’. Think you are safe on that one… It will be interesting to see how people react though. Like I said, they all seem pretty worried at the mo... Me and V are going to watch - I’ll let you know if any fireworks happen.

JACK: Thanks, K. Bye.

KARA (on phone): Tarra, bye. 

Phone beeps as JACK hangs up. 

JACK: Ger, get your coat… we are going to work……..

GERAINT: What?! Now? I was just getting the hang of this bloody thing too!

JACK: I’ll explain on the way. We are going on a stakeout!

SCENE 2: EXT: WELTEL CAR PARK

We open on JACK and GERAINT stood in the carpark of the Weltel call centre.

JACK: Oooh, how exciting, our first stakeout! 

GERAINT: While I’d like to share your enthusiastic outlook on the situation, couldn’t you at least have hired a car or something… just standing here in the open staring at the building doesn’t feel very… well, ‘discrete’, quite frankly. 

JACK: (mocking) Oh, I’m sorry ‘chief inspector’, I would have gone for the usual unmarked car with tinted windows, but the carpool budget has been rather reduced since, you know, the world fell apart. 

GERAINT: Alright, alright. I was just saying... We aren’t exactly inconspicuous stood here though, are we? Particularly when you keep looking through those opera glasses!

JACK: I was rushing and couldn’t find my binoculars…

GERAINT: Why do you even have opera glasses anyway… have you ever even been to the opera -

JACK: (interrupting) Shush! Look… (whispering) act natural… (they act very unnatural, suspiciously looking around staring at the sky and their shoes. 

GERAINT starts to whistle and turns away from the mic) what’s she doing?

GERAINT: Who is it? I can’t see because of all the acting natural….

JACK: (gives up whispering) Oh, just turn around, mun. Look, it’s Amy…

GERAINT: Jack, you seem to forget, I don’t work here… I have literally no idea who that is!

JACK: OK, so… Amy is married to Dai, who is possibly having an affair with the other Amy, who is definitely selling coke in the toilets to Hikari, who got in a fight with Harrison, who is having an affair with Julie, which was discovered by Cathy...

GERAINT: Who swallowed the fly… but, we are yet to discover why she swallowed said fly… perhaps…

JACK: Don’t be facetious… It’s Cathy who has been murdered, mun…

GERAINT: Aah

JACK: Get it now…

GERAINT: (unsure) Uuuh, not entirely… no… it sounds like being in school again!

JACK: Very much is, G. Just exchange flashing your rare pokemon cards around the playground for flashing your five-figure Rolex around the weekly stats meeting... and it’s basically the same.

GERAINT: What’s she doing, can you see? 

JACK: She’s stuffing something into the wheelie bins… 

SOUND: DOOR.WAV

JACK: Good she’s gone… let’s go see what it was…

SOUND: DOOR.WAV

GERAINT: Wait… who’s that…

JACK: That’s douchebag Dai… let’s just hang back here a bit…

GERAINT: Douchebag Dai?

JACK: Yup… his name is David and he is a douchebag… easy enough…

GERAINT: And he is the one selling coke in the toilets?

JACK: No, keep up, G… That’s Amy… the other Amy… the one that Dai is sleeping with and not the Amy he’s married to and just saw shove stuff furtively into a wheelie bin.

GERAINT: She’s isn’t the only one either… look where your Douchebag Dai’s headed… 

JACK: The bins! Quick, what’s he holding, G… can you see?

GERAINT: (sarcastically) Why don’t you take a look with your opera glasses?

JACK: Aaah too late, he’s stuffed it in there… 

SOUND: DOOR.WAV

JACK: Right, quick let’s go see what…

SOUND: DOOR.WAV

JACK: (annoyed and too loud) Aah, Jesus Christ! What now... 

GERAINT: Sssshhhhh!

JACK: Uh-oh, she’s looking around… duck.

GERAINT: Back to my earlier point… I’m not sure ‘absolutely nothing’ provides us with the best form of cover for quickly ducking out of sight...

JACK: Look, It’s not like I’m particularly experienced in hiding around spying on unsuspecting people, is it…just get over here by these flower beds… Oooh, It’s Julie! 

GERAINT: Another one heading to the wheelie bins! (innocently) Clean office, is it?

JACK: Like the Tour de France, G

SOUND: DOOR.WAV

JACK: Let’s just hang back and check no-one else wants to empty the content of their guilty conscience in the bin before we go… (wait and look around)

GERAINT: I think we’re good

JACK: Right, let’s have a look at what we’ve got… (lifting the lid) Eeeeugh it stinks… (they both peer into the bin)...look there’s some stuff right down there at the bottom… G climb in and get it - I’ll hold the lid…

GERAINT: I’m not climbing in there! This is your case, you climb in there...  

JACK: Well I can’t go in, it’ll set off my asthma…

GERAINT: Since when have you had asthma?

JACK: (coughing for effect) I don’t tell you everything about my life, you know, Ger...and, if you must know, it comes and goes… 

GERAINT: What? like, comes when you don’t want to do the dirty work yourself and goes all the rest of the time…

JACK: My doctor said I’m not to go near anything that could set it off, like dust.. Or uum…

GERAINT: Hard work? Oh, for goodness sake, just give me a boost in, OK? But you owe me! (JACK helps GERAINT into the bin) So… what have we got here… (rustles around in the small amount of rubbish covering the floor of the bin.) Some receipts for a restaurant called ‘Chez Henri’ and what looks like a stack of love letters badly wrapped up in cellotape… here you go…

JACK: (reading) “To my Darling, H. Each moment I stare at you through the glass is pure torture…” Well, that’s creepy! Anything else…

GERAINT: A lot of empty tinfoil packets… you sure you had the right Amy?

JACK: Well I didn’t say who else she was selling the stuff to...

GERAINT: There’s a folder in here too… It’s got pictures in here of Harrison and Julie… wait, there’s something else in the back part… oh my god… Jack - It’s a gun!

JACK: What?! Let’s have a - Jeeeeesus, that’s a bloody gun! 

GERAINT: I see why you have developed such a good reputation for your detective skills… What are we going to do with it? 

JACK: Look don’t touch it - I’ll…

POLICEMAN: Hey!

JACK: Oh bloody hell, it’s the fuzz… hide (Jack slams the lid shut and runs)

GERAINT: (whispering angrily) Jack! What? Let me out of here! I swear to god I’m going to…

The POLICEMAN walks over and lifts the lid

GERAINT: (flustered) Uh, hi? 

POLICEMAN: Hello, sir… may I enquire as to why you are sat inside a wheelie bin holding a gun?  

GERAINT: I...Uh… oh bloody hell

---End---

[anogete]

In Between

Hi, folks.  I’m sorry I have nothing to offer as far as fic goes.  Things have been... ::sigh::  You know, I don’t know what things have been.  Not good, not bad.  Just... things.  I wanted to talk--get things out of my head--this morning, but I realized I don’t have a person/outlet who can accept these things right now.  So, I will put them here for anyone who cares to read them.

1) My car blew up.  Well, the engine did.  I was on my way back home with groceries last Saturday, and I lost all ability to accelerate and brake.  So, I puttered out on the side of the road and waited to be saved.  The issue may be covered under the warranty so I had it taken to the dealership.  They’ve had it for a week and still don’t have answers for me besides an offer to lend me a car for free until they can figure out what to do with my car.

2) This deserves it’s own point, though I almost included it on the first point.  I’ve never bought a car without my grandmother.  She was under five feet tall and had a tendency to wear sweat pants and Christmas sweaters year-round.  She smoked Winston Lights and carried a purse covered in rhinestones.  The car salesmen didn’t know what hit them because she wasn’t at all the sweet old lady who would roll over and accept their first offer.  She was hard to read and she wouldn’t give an inch.  She also wouldn’t tell them what she was willing to pay.  No counter offers from her; she’d just tell you to “do better.”  Anyway, she worked her magic when I bought all three of my cars.  When I realized the problem with the engine was serious and might require me getting a new car, I went into a mental tailspin.  Yeah, yeah, I was worried about fitting it into my budget and all that, but mostly I couldn’t seem to cope with buying a car on my own without my grandma there to hold my hand.  I’m almost 39 years old and the thought of doing this without her had me sobbing in the floor.  Except, I didn’t realize my tailspin was due to my grandmother at first.  At first, I just thought I was incapable of handling stress.  Maybe that’s still accurate.

3) While we’re talking about expensive-ass shit, I knew the air conditioner and furnace on this house needed to be replaced sooner rather than later when I bought it last February.  It looks like the time has come.  I managed to find a nice man with very odd hair (think a longer version of the Prince Valiant hair-do, but bright white) through my boyfriend’s dad.  He does this for a living and said he’d give me a discount and do for $5,000 what other places were telling me would cost $9,000.  So, that’s happening next week.  I have the money, but the idea of writing a $5,000 check makes me want to puke.  Ugh.

4) The days are running together.  I’m working from home.  I can’t complain, though.  I’ve got it better than most.  I’m alone all day.  I have a library with a desk.  I can go downstairs and make tea or lunch in my own kitchen.  I’m getting paid my full salary with bonuses.  I can pretty much make my own hours.  The company I work for is taking the pandemic seriously and has told us that we can all work from home until we feel comfortable returning to the office.  Their timeline for “normal” is months.  I don’t think I’ll be back in the office until late summer, if that.  Those who want to return are permitted to, but they can’t use the public areas (kitchen, conference rooms) and have to abide by some strict safety requirements.  And they can choose when and how often they go into the office, working the remainder of the time at home.  So, better than most.

5) I’ve been doing this social distancing thing since March 19th.  It’s not difficult for me.  On good days I’ll exercise (I have a Peloton) before logging into work around 9am.  On not-good days (which seem to be more often than not), I’ll skip the exercise and just log into work early.  Work keeps me busy and I spend a decent amount of my day on the phone with clients.  I go to the grocery store once a week, but I order for pickup.  Someone else does the shopping for me and loads it into my trunk.  This is nothing new.  I’ve been shopping that way for years.  Now it’s just harder to get my usual pickup slot because everyone else has joined the party.  I do miss taking a break from work and leaving my office to grab a coffee and sit outside on a bench downtown.  I guess I could do that outside my own house, but it just doesn’t feel the same.

6) A few months ago, a husband and wife who are clients came in to meet with me at my office.  They’re in their 80s and both were having trouble walking.  They parked in the garage next door and couldn’t find the elevator to exit.  I walked over and escorted them to our office building.  They were both struggling with walking and the wife (Rose) had been fighting lung cancer for a couple years, so I suggested they wait outside and I’d valet their car once we were done.  The thought of making the trek to their car alone was painful to me because it was a monumental struggle for them to walk down a hallway.  Their daughter-in-law called me two days ago.  Rose passed away two weeks ago.  The husband, a former literature professor for a university, was in the hospital with four broken ribs because he’d fallen shortly after Rose’s passing.  He was a Jewish child in Nazi Germany during the war.  He’d told me stories about hiding from the Nazis, surviving off of tree bark and whatever he could find in the forests.  He also jokingly told me that he’d live until he was 120.  Now, it looks like he won’t survive the year.  He and Rose would tease each other all the time, but you could see all that love between them. Whenever I’d call him, he’d ask me in that wonderful accent to wait while he got “the boss” on the phone as well.  Rose thought it was silly that she was “the boss,” but she humored him.  You know, they’re shorties, too.  Five foot, nothing.  Just like my grandma.  Hearing that Rose was gone and Dr. (he’s a PhD) was likely soon to follow just broke my already fragile heart.

7) Fragile heart, huh?  Yeah.  After the car situation and the realization that one day I’m going to have to do big life things without having my grandma to help me, I was feeling pretty raw.  But I’ve been trying to be responsible and do things I’ve been putting off lately.  So, I gathered up all those medical bills from Ferguson’s illness last September.  (Ferguson was my soulmate little chihuahua mix that I had for over 13 years.)  I had pet insurance on him and hadn’t bothered to make the claim because I couldn’t handle it.  But it’s been almost a year so I pulled out the invoices, which were over $2,000, and logged into the website and starting inputting the info to file the claims.  The little box asks for a description of why I took him to the vet.  And answering that question just brought back all that shit like a wave.  I remember reading this nice description of grief and how it is like waves.  At first they’re big and they knock you around and you can’t breathe.  But over time they get smaller and you learn how to navigate them.  Still there, but manageable.  Filling in that box resulted in a bit of a tidal wave that knocked me on my ass.  My boyfriend came home to find me sobbing at my desk like a lunatic..  He’s... not so good with emotional shit.  And I usually keep it bottled up so that no one knows what’s going on inside me.  But some days...  Some days it just overflows.  So, after confirming that nothing terrible had occurred and that I was reliving September 2019, he slowly backed out of the room to leave me with my grief-wave.

8) I want to be one of those succulent people.  You know, the ones who have succulents lining their windowsills.  The dining room and kitchen windows are full of this oddball little plants.  The boyfriend hates it, but I told him he’d have to deal.  I’ll die on this hill.  I’m a succulent lady.

9) I’ve been reading memoirs or, rather, memoirs through collections of essays.  I don’t know if it’s the mental state I’m in or if social distancing has got me subconsciously reaching out for life beyond my head, but I can’t seem to read much else.  I loved Liz Phair’s Horror Stories.  I’m reading The Book of Help by Megan Griswold right now.  I’m determined to procure a signed copy of What Doesn’t Kill You Makes You Blacker by Damon Young.  He did a virtual event for a local bookseller recently and they have signed copies available for purchase.  I just need to muster up the will to call them and ask them to hold one for me.  The little snippets of their life and experiences via these memoirs through essays bring me some measure of comfort.

10) I tried to watch Euphoria on HBO.  I managed to make it through the first episode, but I don’t think I can watch more.  I can’t relate, but that normally isn’t a necessity for an enjoyable story.  Maybe it’s just too depressing for me right now.

11) I binged Dollface on Hulu and wish I had more to watch.  Parts of it hit me hard.  I’ve always had trouble maintaining friendships, period.  But maintaining friendships while in a relationship has been damn near impossible for me.  Just like Jules.  Except, I’m not nearly as cool or gorgeous as Kat Dennings.  And I have no friends in this city to go back to.  Just friends at work. 

12) I haven’t worn makeup for 2 solid months.  I’m starting to miss it.  I found old selfies I’d taken in which I don’t recognize myself.  Did I ever look like that?  I must have since here is photographic evidence.  I look like shit now.  I’m forever in yoga pants and a hoodie with half-wet hair from the shower.  Maybe putting on a pair of jeans and a cute shirt and some makeup will make me feel like a human being again.  Maybe I’m not doing as well as I thought in quarantine.  Huh.

13) I hope you all are well.  If you’ve sent me a message, I’m so sorry for not responding.  My mental state has been delicate lately and the silence from me has nothing to do with your kind words.  I promise I read and treasure and appreciate anything that is sent to me.  I’m also sorry for having no offering of fic or a promise of something to come.  I haven’t written since last summer.  It’s been almost a year.  I guess I’m in a dry spell.

14) Since I’ve been struggling with loss/grief lately, I’ll leave you with a quote from Philip Pullman, taken from his novel The Amber Spyglass.  It’s about death, I suppose.  Or maybe just a transition to something else entirely.  It’s nice to think of my grandma and Rose and my sweet, sweet love of a dog falling in the raindrops and riding on the wind through tall grass.  If it wasn’t raining, I’d take my computer outside right now.

“Even if it means oblivion, friends, I'll welcome it, because it won't be nothing. We'll be alive again in a thousand blades of grass, and a million leaves; we'll be falling in the raindrops and blowing in the fresh breeze; we'll be glittering in the dew under the stars and the moon out there in the physical world, which is our true home and always was.” 

[fearfulkittenwrites]

“Traitor! My cookies!”

Inspired by @tiny-italian-danger-noodle​ (Link to the amazing post: https://tiny-italian-danger-noodle.tumblr.com/post/624948123561852928/im-sorry-but-i-just-love-the-idea-of-the-rest-of )

Word count: 2261

Notes: Heyy! Quick heads up: I changed some things from the original post. Idk, it just made sense in my head to write it like this. Also, yes, I did made a point in fitting in the batman bingo, because I have a card to fill and it was perfect, so don't yell at me :( I hope you enjoy it! <3

It’s not like there was any kind of conscious effort in it. And yet, Dick was slowly becoming the closest thing the batfamily had to a mom. He hated it, but someone had to tell Damian to not kill his brothers. Or tell Tim to go to bed after 48 hours up. Or tell Jason not to shoot firearms inside the house. Or tell Steph to not prank elderly people (It doesn’t matter that they are homophic Steph, you can’t do that, they’re 80). And if no one else would do it, then, well, he would.

It started after the cookie episode.

Alfred had baked them after Damian requested it. He had been craving those for months, and finally decided to ask for them. But Jason came home before he did, and ended up eating most of them, leaving the smallest two for the boy. Once the kid got home from school and saw what happened, he was fuming.

“Devilspawn, what are you doing in my room?” Jason asked, laying on the bed, face buried in a book.

“You. Ate. My. Cookies.” He said, katana in his hands.

“Okay, and?” Jason answered “I left you some. And I eat stuff from everyone in the house, so that really shouldn’t- You have your sword. Oh my God, why do you have your sword?” He jumped to his feet after the realization, trying to run.

“You will pay!” Damian raised his katana, charging towards his brother.

“Fuck!” Jason yelled, climbing on the bed, trying to get away from the boy.

“I have been waiting for those cookies for ages!” Damian sliced through the air, aiming for the other’s feet. Jason fell from the bed trying to evade the move and ran through the bedroom door.

“Help!” He yelled, running down the halls “Dick, help! Damian wants to kill me! Again!”

“Traitor!” Damian screeched behind him, tiny footsteps growing louder and louder as he approached Jason “My cookies!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAH!” He ran down the stairs, going to the entrance hall “Dick, please! He’s getting closer!”

Damian skipped steps behind him.

“You coward!” He brandished his sword “Face me like a man!”

As they went into the dining room, Damian felt a sudden pull at his uniform’s collar. Dick held him there, as if he was a kitten, and pointed at Jason.

“Don’t move.”

“Okay.” Jason said, backed up against the wall.

“Unhand me Grayson!” He complained, trying to twist himself free “He deserves punishment for his crimes!”

“Give me the katana.” Dick took the weapon from his brother’s hands “Damian, the no kill rule does extend to siblings. Please keep that in mind.”

“I wasn’t going to kill him.” Damian pouted, angry “I was simply going to mutilate or maim. If he died, that would be on him.”

“We don’t mutilate or maim each other in this house, okay?” Dick said, finaly letting go of the kid “Don’t make me repeat that.”

“Fine.”

“And you,” He turned to Jason, crossing his arms “Why did you eat all of his cookies?”

“I left him some.” He mumbled.

“Doesn’t matter.” Dick answered, hardened expression “You should’ve waited for him to get home, and you know it.”

“Yeah, okay.” He scratched his head.

“Now, apologize to each other.”

Both of them looked horrified at the idea. Dick sighed.

“Apologize. Now.” They didn’t budge “Or you’re both banned from patrol for a week.”

“You can’t do that.” Jason said “Can he?” He asked Damian, in a quieter voice. The kid shrugged.

“Don’t test me.” Dick answered.

“Fine.” Jason rolled his eyes “I’m sorry for eating all your cookies.”

“And I’m sorry for trying to mutilate you because of it.”

“Great. Now hug it out.”

“I’m not...”

“You must be...”

“Now!” He stomped his foot, and both of them grumpily hugged each other, clearly uncomfortable way “See? Was that so hard?”

“Yes.” Both of them answered.

“Then think about that before you do some stupid shit again.” Dick answered, leaving the room.

Tim, who was out of sight but within earshot, raised an eyebrow at the scene.

The next week, he knocked on the door of Dick’s room, covered in glue, feathers and glitter.

“He- Woah!” Dick said as he opened the door, finding a very unamused Tim on the other side “Okay, you’re not getting in here like that. What happened?”

“Steph happened.” Tim answered, flat toned and tired.

“I love how that explains so much and so little at the same time.” He sighed, supporting an arm on the door frame “What did she do?”

“Glue bucket on my door. Tripwire, then a bunch of feathers. And finally, a glitter bomb by my bathroom door.”

“Oh God.” He covered his mouth with a hand “Why?”

“Prank war. She took it a little too seriously.”

Dick rested his head on his forearm.

“Steph!” He yelled out “Come here!”

They heard footsteps, and the blonde girl emerged, laughing.

“Oh, man!” She said “This is the best one yet.”

“Steph, why would you do that?” He asked.

“Oh, so he can hack into my computers and change the names of all my files and I can’t play a little physical prank? I sent my teacher a very rude meme because of that. Almost got expelled.” She crossed her arms. Tim snickered.

“What?” Dick asked “Why?”

“Prank war.” Tim shrugged.

“Okay, you know what? No more prank wars until you two learn how to behave.” Dick said and pointed at Steph “You are cleaning all the mess you made in his bedroom. And you,” He pointed at Tim, and twisted his nose “Well, you are going to take a shower, and then you’re going to change back all that you messed with on her computer. And,” He kept going “Both of you are cleaning the batmobile after patrol for a week.”

“What? That’s not fair!” Steph complained.

“You’re right.” Dick said, scratching his chin “Okay then, Steph is cleaning the batmobile for a week and Tim can’t use the batcave before sunset and after three a.m. for a week.”

“What?!” Tim screamed “What do you expect me to do all day then?”

“Learn how to function in a healthy way? Anyways, complain too much, I’ll make it a month.” Dick answered.

“You can’t do that!” Steph complained “You’re not Batman.”

“Try me.” Dick squinted.

“Fine!” She threw her hands up, leaving “I’ll clean the stupid room and the stupid car.”

“Traitor.” Tim hissed, walking away.

Then three weeks after that, Batman came up to him in patrol, and, on top of a building, said:

“I need your assistance.”

“Sure. Who are we up against now?” Nightwing asked.

“Not... That kind of assistance.” Batman looked down “Your brothers keep talking in a weird way. I don’t understand the colloquialisms in their language, and I’m almost sure they are mocking me.”

Dick blinked a little under the mask.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I need you to stop them from doing that while we’re on patrol.”

“B, can’t you... I don’t know, you are their dad, not me!” He pointed out.

“But you are the one who gets them under control.” He shot back. They stared at each other “Please. Just while they are wearing the mask.” Dick sighed.

“Fine. I’ll talk to them.”

Later on, when they got back from patrol, Dick felt a little ridiculous having to explain to a bunch of masked heroes that they have to stop communicating in memes and insulting Batman when on patrol. And why it wasn’t okay even if it was to his face, Steph. Damian, of course, was let off the hook on that one. He had just recently grasped the concept of a meme, having declared on multiple ocasions that they were a stupid waste of internet data. Tim was personally offended by all of those declarations.

It didn’t take long for Dick to start correcting the family’s unhealthy habits after that. He had given Cass a “required socialization day”, to be performed at least once a month, Damian had mandatory off patrol days every two weeks, he dragged Bruce to bed every other night, and regulated Tim’s caffeine intake.

Duke was the best enforcer of his rules in the house. Not because he was brutal or particularly persuasive, but because he could instill guilt into the members of the family.

“Hey, Bruce, didn’t Dick tell you to go upstairs and grab lunch?” He asked, going down to the cave to practice. The man grunted as he set down his gym bag “Okay then. I just don’t know how you’ll deal with his broken heart when he sees you haven’t been taking care of yourself like you said you would. I mean, how can you even break a promise you’ve made to that guy? He worries so much about us, it’s-”

“Okay!” He exclaimed, getting up “Okay, I’ll go get lunch.”

Whenever Tim went to get a cup of coffee after seven p.m., Duke would stare at him until he poured the liquid in the sink. He could convince Jason to give up on any idea by saying ‘But what would Dick say?’, or ‘That would break your brother’s heart you know?’.

Duke’s proudest moment was the one time he managed to build up the courage to do it with Cass.

Dick had been telling her for weeks that she needed to rest. That training so much everyday is bad for her health. That she should try having fun in different ways. The man had been (and still kind of is) on a quest to find her a non-lethal hobby. But when Duke went down to the cave once, to fetch his forgotten water bottle, he found her training, and figured out why Dick had a frow on his face earlier.

“You know,” He started, testing the waters “Training so much can strain your muscles.” Cass shot him a look, but didn’t say anything “I’m just saying,” He put his hands up “Maybe you should listen to Dick. I mean, he’s usually not wrong about these things. And he’s been doing it for longer than we have.”

“What do you want?” She asked, annoyed.

“Me?” He placed his hands on his chest “I don’t want anything. I just think you have been working too hard. You deserve a break.”

“I don’t want a break.”

“Well, maybe you should take a break anyways. It would make Dick so happy.” She stared at him, and Duke kept going “You know, he was very upset earlier. Seeing that you have taken his advice would make him smile so much. He really cares about you, y’know? Sometimes, I think we all take him for granted, not realizing how much of his time he spends trying to-”

“Shut up.” Cass said, pushing him aside to climb up the stairs “I’ll take the break.”

Duke smiled to himself. Dick would most likely ask him how did he do it later. He’d smile and say ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, I didn’t do anything’.

And he rarely ever got into trouble. Considering that the other five had set multiple rooms on fire, broken several pieces of expensive furniture and ruined the house’s plumbing system many times in the past, there wasn’t much Duke could do to be considered trouble. Dick would vent to him about the others and always asked him to report on their behaviours whenever he had to be away for too long.

Damian envied that. He could give much more detailed reports of incidents than Thomas could, and he was ready to die on that hill. Dick mentioned multiple times that this just wasn’t the point, and that if he could go at least a month without threatening to kill one member of the family then he’d consider asking for Damian’s help.

Damian would then argue that he wouldn’t threaten anyone if they weren’t such useless piles of meat with no functioning braincels and irritatingly deficient fighting skills, and Dick would take away his cellphone for the day.

But the moment they realized how much power he actually had was when Alfred started using him as a threat.

“Master Damian, please stop sharpening your sword in the living room. I’m sure you can do this down at the cave.”

“I’m asserting my dominance, Pennyworth.” Damian replied “Drake can hear this from the kitchen and therefore knows better than to continue his attacks.”

Alfred frowned.

“Master Damian, I’m certain there is a better way to handle the situation. I trust you can find that out by yourself, or should I ask for master Dick’s assistance?”

They got caught up in a staring match for a while. And then, the boy silently got up, and went to the cave. Alfred smiled to himself, before moving on to the kitchen.

“Master Timothy, I do believe you have been told not to tease your younger brother in the past.” Tim raised an eyebrow “If you insist on these antics, I will call master Dick.”

“I- um...” The teen started “Okay.”

Alfred nodded, and turned to Bruce, who was entering the kitchen.

“Ah, master Bruce. Will you be joining us for dinner tonight, or should I ask master Dick to call for you?”

Bruce froze and looked at Tim. The kid made a face.

“I will be joining you.” He answered, hesitant.

“How delightful.” The butler said, making his way out.

“Wha... What just happened?” Bruce asked.

“Alfred knows.” Tim said “We’re fucked.”

“Language.”

“Oh, leave me alone.” He shot back, sipping a freshly made cup of coffee “You’re not Dick.”

[sharperthewriter]

Chapter 9 of Possible-y Utah

Chapter 9 - The 20-Year Old Proposal

(June 10, 1986)

James said "We were gearing up on what was to be a 2-week trip to Utah to see the national parks. I had taken Ann to a few of the national parks before, so this was nothing new."

James, then 25 years of age, was packing up his stuff in a 1972 Wombat RV that has seen better days. It had belonged to his dad before he gave it to his son. He, along with his scientific posse, minus Drew, were at John Knight Hall at MIST.

"Dr. Possible, do you think this RV will hold?" Ramesh asked.

"Relax, Ramesh, this baby will make it through the trip!" James said with confidence. "We brought all our girlfriends along...unlike Drew!"

Both he and Ramesh chuckled. "He's probably living in his mother's basement."

Chen, in the meantime, was putting the food in the cabinets. "Do you want the marshmallows in the left or right cabinet."

"The left, Chen!" James suggested before turning back to Ramesh, "Now, I have a surprise in store for Ann, my girlfriend and I have chosen Zion as the perfect setting. Whatever you do, do not spill the surprise, especially to Ann!"

"We won't tell a single soul!" Ramesh agreed. Chen nodded his head as well, indicating his part of the plan. Little did they know that it was Ramesh and Chen's girlfriends who even suggested the idea of the trip.

Ann E. (AN: The E is for Elizabeth) Nomaly came up to the house. She, 24 at the time, was in acid-wash floral jeans, a MIST sweatshirt with shoulder pads on them showing off her midriff, leg warmers, a Swatch, giant neon hoop earrings, and a bowler hat. Of course, being that this was the 80s, Ann's red hair was in gigantic curls all the way past her shoulder.

"And there she was!" James said, passing along a photo of Ann in the photo album on that trip.

"Whoa!" Kim exclaimed, "Mom's outfit definitely screams Excessive 80s!"

"What else can I say? Your mother's outfit was quite the looker!" James laughed.

"Can we get back to the story, please, Dad?" Kim asked.

"Very well then, Kimmie-cub!" James replied, "As I was saying, we were going to give that RV one last good ride before we sold her to the scrapheap."

"James, are you sure this thing can make it to one national park, let alone five?" Ann questioned.

"Just chill, Ann. We will visit all of them!" James said with confidence.

"What about the picnic blanket?" Ramesh's girlfriend asked.

"Store it in the compartment over there!" Ramesh replied, pointing out to the compartment under the dining table.

"Did that RV even make it to Utah?" Kim asked.

"It took us 630 miles, but we finally made it to the Beehive State...and to Zion National Park. That magical day, the 18th, began with a picnic... " James began.

"That went wrong..." Ann muttered.

Ann was overseeing the damage of the picnic with bees swarming all over James' posse, trash all over the place, and a black bear was eating honey from the jar, along with the food that has been laid to waste by the bear. She was wearing an 1980s exercise outfit plus the leg warmers. Her normally long immaculate curls were doused with water.

James, Ramesh, and Chen had a few bee stings on their hands and all of their clothes were sopping wet after jumping in the water. Ramesh and Chen's girlfriends all had their clothes wet as well.

"Ready to jump back into the RV?" Ann asked.

"I'm with her on this!" James exclaimed as he got into the driver's seat and started the engine. "I should not have chosen that spot to hold a picnic!"

"Agreed!" echoed the chorus of Ramesh, Chen, and their significant others.

All four of the twenty-somethings piled into the RV as it sputtered out of the picnic area, belching gray smoke.

"That was so close!" Ramesh's girlfriend complained.

"My hair's all wet!" Chen's girlfriend whined.

"And my white labcoat has grape stains on it!" Ramesh groaned.

"Look, everyone! I know that the picnic didn't turn out the way I hoped, but I know something that would turn those frowns upside-down!" James proclaimed.

"And that's when you took me to Canyon Overlook!" Ann replied. "To make up for the picnic fiasco."

"I had to do something." James said, "We didn't have the Internet like we do today, so we had to rely on maps of the park to find it.

"Plus, he had to cover my eyes to the perfect spot." Ann added.

"Just a few more steps..." James proclaimed. Ann's eyes were covered by a blindfold James put on her.

"This view better be worth it, James. I hope you can make up the mess of the picnic from earlier."

Ramesh and Chen, meanwhile, were hiding behind a rock almost on the edge of the overlook.

"Should we take the picture?" Chen asked, "I've been holding this instant camera for two hours now!"

"No!" Ramesh insisted, whispering, "We wait until Dr. Possible gives us the signal!"

"And stop!" James said. The couple were about 20 feet from the edge.

"Now can I take the blindfold off?" Ann asked.

"You may!" James replied with a smile.

Ann took the blindfold off and was captivated by the beauty of Zion Canyon. Her blue eyes took it all in.

"Oh my gosh! I can see almost the entire park from here This...this is beautiful!"

James replied while Ann was transfixed by the canyon, "Actually, Ann, it's the second-most beautiful thing in this entire park...compared to you!"

Ann turned her head around and the next thing she saw was James on his right knee genuflecting to her and in his hand was a small black box with a gold engagement ring with a pear diamond.

"Ann E. Nomally, will you marry me?"

Tears welled up in Ann's eyes at this unexpected surprise by James. Out of all her emotion, she blurted out, "Yes! YES!"

James then put the ring on Ann's left hand, her ring finger.

She happily embraced James tightly around his waist and kissed him.

Ramesh and Chen emerged from the rock, clapping and cheering.

"Three cheers for the newly-engaged couple!" Ramesh exclaimed as he took out the instant camera. "Say...happy trails!"

Both Ann and James exclaimed "Happy trails!" And then they kissed each other again.

(back to the present)

"So me and Ann enjoyed that wonderful moment! We still have Ramesh's picture on my nightstand!" James explained.

"Yep, the view and ring definitely made up for everything that happened the rest of the trip." Ann added. "We eventually got married 8 months later."

"Did you manage to finish the Utah trip?" Ron asked.

"Unfortunately, no, Ronald. The only other park besides Zion that we managed to visit was Arches." James sighed, rubbing his back, "The transmission to the RV gave out and we had a flat tire."

"We used what was left of the money for the trip to pay for bus fare back to Middleton for all six of us." Ann explained.

"So that's why you wanted this year's family vacation to be at Utah." Kim said, figuring out her dad's plan.

"Yes, Kimberly! That is the Possible Plan!" James replied proudly, "To visit all 5 national parks of Utah as a family..."

Ron and Rufus both cleared their throats, feeling left out.

"Whoops...sorry..." James chuckled, correcting his mistake, "...plus Ronald and Rufus."

"So when do we leave, Dad?" Kim asked.

"We leave on the morning of the 10th, so be ready by then!" James answered.

"Okay, Dad! I'll totally be awake and alert!" Kim insisted.

[akirameta84]

a scene written in the discord monarchy au, with me and @littleundertaletrash (Trash) as characters. it is not proofread because I wrote it late at night and just wanted to finish before bed. and even now its 2am so im just copying and pasting it onto tumblr. enjoy.

mentioned: @saikikslut (Moth), and @incorrect-saiki (my wife)

Honestly, what did they take her for? Swinging her legs back and forth, Akira was starting to get a little bit fed up. Time was of essence to her, and frankly no matter the payment, waiting over an hour to meet someone was a bit ridiculous. They had asked to meet her, not the other way around. What the hell has them held up? Having people schedule meetings to hire her was not uncommon, but usually they had the decency to show up. With her skill level as an assassin, she tended to be in high demand, so keeping her waiting was just asking for someone else to snap her up with a higher price.

Well, apparently just leaving was considered "rude" and "reputation ruining", and her wife promised her dessert if she stayed the whole time, so Akira wouldn't be ditching quite yet. Although another hour and she'd be at her wits end. Finally, thank god, it seemed Miss Has Better Things To Do had arrived, or the so called "Trash". She couldn't say anything about the name, (even though personally she thought it was, pfft, trash), nearly everyone had an alias. Only the truly close exchanged real names, like her and her wife.

Akira snorted when Trash walked into the room. The mask was hilarious, and it looked like she was trying to be cool to overcompensate for something else. Maybe her horrible sense of time? Not that she was still stewing over the wait time.

"Wow, I'm impressed you actually showed up! I was starting to think you'd ditched me," Never mind, definitely still stewing over that.

Trash just hummed noncommittally and gestured for her to follow, likely to a meeting room. Definitely playing at being overly edgy. People like this usually pissed her off, and it still did, but Trash was a faction leader, and likely very, very rich. Another reason not to loose her temper or ditch. This was also the first job she hadn't brought her wife to. They'd both agreed that a leader could be playing a trap, considering they had at some point definitely killed people on her side. If Akira died here today, her wife would be swift in making sure Trash's rule was tarnished. Permanently.

They reached the meeting room and she had to say, she was impressed. A large glass table sat in the middle, emitting a faintly blue glow. The walls were a deeper blue, while the floor a nice cream. At least Trash had some taste. It was still taking all of her will to not rip that mask off of her face, though. Sitting down, Akira stared into the emotionless face across the table. Jeez, she really was one of those types. Her charms rarely worked on the near emotionless, so she'd likely have to be on her best behavior instead. Tsk.

"Calm yourself. We'll get to that. I first want to know your success rate, and the weapons you use," Trash wasn't looking directly at her, almost like she was being dismissed. Okay, Akira would admit that she'd have to switch to "best behavior" mode. What an annoyance.

"Soooo, obviously you want to hire me. That's cool 'n all. I just want to know what you're paying," She started off, yawning. Okay, that was maybe a little, tiny bit rude, but dammit Trash had wasted her time first.

"Sorry, sorry. I stick to bladed weapons mainly. I've been known to have an 80% success rate," Akira kept her sentences short and choppy, otherwise she'd likely let something snarky slip. She had also fibbed a little bit on her success rate, but it'd be awhile until it was deemed safe enough to bring her wife. When working together, that rate was nearly a hundred.

"If you wish to work for me, sign this. I'll give you a bit to read it. Please don't take too long, I have other affairs to attend too," Akira resisted the urge to roll her eyes at that last statement. Did this meeting not count as an important affair? She gave a nod before turning down to the papers before her.

Trash hummed and reached behind them, pulling out a few papers. Where on earth did they get them from? Akira didn't recall a pouch or pocket. Whatever, it wasn't her business. The papers were slid across to her. A contract. She raised an eyebrow and looked at the leader. This early into the meeting? It reeked of suspicion. Trash must've seen her skeptical look, because she elaborated.

It was very detailed, she'd give her that. It layed out what exactly would be expected of her by working for the monarch, and all the other basics on seemingly every contract. She agreed with it, luckily. Of course before moving on to the section she wanted to see, Akira made sure to do a close inspection for hidden clauses or small texts. Trash didn't seem like the type of leader to play around, that was more Moth's cup of tea, but it never hurt to double check. Finally, she reached the payment section. And damn, was it a nice figure. Trash likely knew she worked for whoever payed the most, and was determined to have her. Mmm, she could likely double that figure if she brought her wife, but those were thoughts for the future.

As she looked up, there was a pen not so subtly placed next to her. Giving the paper one last glance over, she took a deep breath and grabbed the pen. Such a powerful person giving her this much freedom in the job, with a hefty pay? It would be a dream. Hesitating for a moment, Akira took another breath before signing her alias on the contract, and setting down the pen. Trash grabbed the papers and slowly slid them back over to herself, nodding. And if she looked hard enough, Akira would admit to seeing a small smirk on her face.

"So, you're with me then," Trash spoke up, breaking the lengthy silence. No expression sat on her face as they made eye contact.

"Well, unless someone pays me more..that'd be a yes," Akira snarked back, letting a grin cover her own face. Trash stood up, and gathered the contract papers in her hand, straightening them.

As the monarch walked towards the room's exit, she uttered something near Akira's ear, "Then each payment will get higher. I'm sure that will suffice," Something glowed in her hands, and was tossed back towards the assassin. Crystals? "You'll need these crystals, they are communicators of a sort. Do not loose them."

"Don't disappoint me," Ha, as if.

[chimswae]

BTS Caretaker CH24

Summary: She may think she has Bangtan Sonyeondan wrapped around her fingers. She may think it is easy to love the members equally without hurting any soul. She may think the boys wont fall head over heels for her. She assumes it is okay to show a little love and affection towards the boys, what if she gets it all wrong? What if it only brings more complication to her already complicated life? Can she survive their charms? Will she be able to resist them? What if they just wont let her go?

- Pairing: BTS x Oc ( Yoongi x OC, Jungkook x OC)

- Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst, Romance, Idol!au

- Word Count: 4, 340

- Author Note: Double update so check previous one too~ ^^*

Previous | Next

Chapter 24

“All of you are aware of her replacing your original caretaker?” their manager steadied his breathing trying to sound rational and not irritating. Handling the mess created by the boys was not unusual thing to do. Either the boys created the mess, or they were dragged in someone’s else problem without they realized.

“We can explain” Jin bit his nails out of habit while looking out at his members seeking for support. “Manager-nim, I can explain too” Seul felt it was necessary for her to speak for herself instead of depending on the boys. Even though Namjoon did 80% of the talk and others would nod along, it made her feel extra uncomfortable.

Sejin closed his eyes for a few moments, summoning his lost soul back. To be frank, this Seul’s issue sounded absurd as Namjoon and Hyerim relationship. Now that eight pairs of eyes were diligently scrutinizing the older guy, fear surged inside them like an onrushing tide. Grinding his teeth together, his eyes landed on Seul’s small figure “I heard enough explanation today” she flinched, and fixated her gaze on her lap.

“Are you sure you did not make this up? This is not the way to cover up your relationship with her right, Jungkook?” Jungkook cringed at his accusation. Part of the accusation was right all along, minus the part they were not in a serious relationship.

“About that..It is a little complicated but we will let you know once it is confirmed” he smiled sheepishly earning a hard glare from Sejin. “That is not the answer I am expecting it to be. Don’t tell me… Are you expecting a child?” his stern voice caused everyone to shriek in their seat.

“NO!” “NO-WAY” “IT IS NOT LIKE THAT”

Her eyes rounded in pure fear “Oh god, no. It is not that!” she gave Jungkook’s legs a soft kick, and communicated with her eyes. His chin jutted out, and his brows pulled together, noting the expression of disappointments “Then, why none of you inform me about her replacing Mrs Hwang?” Yoongi muttered soft curse under his breath.

“We are protecting her from the contract” Yoongi’s voice caught everyone attention. Under critical circumstances like this Yoongi would choose to seal his mouth shut and observe before voicing out his point of view. Considering how he changed that pattern, it was undeniably fishy.

Sejin scoffed in disbelief “Protecting her from the contract? Isn’t it obvious, her mother has violated the terms. We have no reasons to keep her as your caretaker anymore, this doesn’t make any sense” he rubbed the bridge of his nose exhaling a tired sigh.

Clasping her hand together, Seul’s body shook vigorously “I am sorry… but please.. spare us just this one time. I cant get caught now when my mother still need me, please forgive me… I promise to work hard..Work hard and you won’t know that I even work here” she begged pitifully.

Her eyes stung with tears, feeling defeated. Everything seemed dark, there was no single light of hope there.

The boys threw a sympathize glance at her way, as their heart ache in pain. “Seul-ah.. you don’t need to do this” Jin encircled her wrist, placing it back on her laps. Jungkook wrapped his arm securely around Seul, pulling her into his chest in hope to calm her down “Hey, this is partially our fault too. We won’t let anything happen to you” Sejin eyed their closeness, followed by a sarcastic snort.

Jin took the chance to caress her hair with attention “Seul..you are shaking, steady your breathing. Take a deep breath” his sweet voice was intoxicating.

“Now I know why none of you come forward and speak about this” taking a deep breath Seul calmed down her racing heart getting ready to get scolded again by this intimidating man. They heard him continue after a long pause “You guys like her. Some of you even… love her” he specifically pointed out Jungkook upon witnessing his heroic side which was not that heroic after all.

Stood behind the couch were Taehyung and Hoseok with an unreadable expression. They didn’t want her to get caught this way when it supposed to be over yesterday. Why was this happening to them?

Namjoon cleared his throat, scratching his head in process. He was stuck whether to keep his members’ secret or to be professional. The heavy loads on his shoulder making him few centimetres shorter. This was complicated.

“Hyung, can’t you let this slide? We..really care for her. She doesn’t cause any trouble and we enjoy her company here” Jimin said timidly.

“I am with Jimin. Seul has never done a thing that will jeopardize our reputation. She is doing this to help her mother. Mrs Hwang is terminally ill, and she is waiting for a donor. Until then, can’t you let her stay?” the sunshine of the group kept the smile on his face, hoping that Sejin would not take any rash decision.

Seul was touched by their generosity and sincerity, with that she slowly pulled away from Jungkook’s embrace, mouthing the younger guy a thank you before tearing her gaze to the fury manager “I know, we should have said something about this. My job alone is not enough to cover up my mother’s hospital bills. If she resigned, she can’t continue with the treatment. I..am sorry if that doesn’t make sense to you, I will take the responsibility for my own action. Whatever you decide, I will comply to it” she hung her head low with a deep sigh.

“It is not something that I can decide”

Taehyung finally spoke up “Are you going to tell Bang PD about this?” he inquired.

Defensive, he crossed his arms “I don’t have a choice but to report this right?” his response earning dissatisfaction grunt from the boys. Even so, neither Seul nor the boys had a say on this. Contract violation is a serious offence and it could not be taken lightly, not when the boys’ reputation is at stake.

Seul on the other hand nodded in defeat, she screwed up and this would be the end of it. Taehyung pat her shoulder from behind, and he locked eyes with Seul sending strength through his gaze. She grabbed for his hand in delight, giving the tall guy a soft squish.

“Unless..” the older guy murmured again sparking hope in their heart, Seul turned her head to face him immediately.  He shook his head to see their eagerness “Unless, we keep this issue between us. And the young lady over there promise to not cause any problem. Can you guarantee that at least?” he looked at Seul with a serious expression that could make anyone piss in their pants.

Namjoon found his smile back on his face as he exchanged look with his members, feeling a little relief of Sejin’s decision. Yoongi smirked expecting this from Sejin in the end. Their manager might appear intimidating to everyone but that was needed to scare off those crazy fans and reporters. Manager is meant to protect the idols from the world. Nonetheless, he has a bigger heart.

“YES SIR. I won’t disappoint you!” Seul grinned widely, clasping her hand together again. This time it was not for begging but showing her gratification. The manager let out a small chuckle easing the tension in the room after god thirty minutes probing answers from the boys and Seul.

“One more thing.. Whatever issues that some of you have with Seul, resolve it or keep it under the radar at least. I don’t want any of you make it to the headline this year with a dating scandal” his expression changed as he nodded at Yoongi.

Dumbfounded Yoongi, held his tongue back “No public date is allowed. Are you clear?” Seul widened her eyes as soon as she heard Sejin’s warning. She blurted out “How did you know?” Seul clasped her hand over her mouth like a reflex. Cussing lowly, she blamed her stupidity.

Jungkook eyebrows arched with a suspicious look “How did hyung know what?” even Jimin looked alert in his seat. Now this garner his attention, why was Sejin aimed Yoongi as he spouted out those warning.

The older man got the cue as his mouth slightly opened in daze “Wait a minute. They don’t know about this Min? Ah..I got it now! You guys are fighting for her love, aren’t you? All of you?!” his voice reached one octave, almost shrieking alarming everyone in the room.

Seul shook her head frantically denying the questions before he got the wrong idea “That is not what you think. They are not fighting for my love. You are flattering me” she chuckled awkwardly, exchanging hard glance with Yoongi forcing the guy to show a little support. As Sejin was about to put himself at ease, Yoongi dropped another huge bomb.

Yoongi lets his mouth curve unknowingly into a playful smirk “I do…” his gaze fixated on Seul’ face. His pleasantly strong gaze took her in, causing her to blush madly. ‘What in the world!” she turned to Jin seeking for help yet Yoongi’s honesty also took him off guard.

The maknae line fall into silence, registering Yoongi’s response in their thick head though they were aware of Yoongi excessive attention on Seul. Jungkook mustered up his courage and admitted “Me too..I am fighting along with Yoongi hyung” he looked down on his finger did not even dare to look up.

Sejin’s hand swept his face and gawked in disbelief “WHAT? BOTH OF YOU?” he let out another low scowl. Within thirty minutes, the conversation that he had with the boys came out with at least three shocking news. Indeed, it was too much to bear. How was it possible for him to cope with these complicated issues revolving around them?

Without he realized, Sejin spotted another hand in the air which appeared to be Jimin “I like Seul too..hyung..” Seul ran her fingers in her messy hair, facepalming her now reddened face. ‘I am fucking screwed. I thought we are done. Manager-nim will kill me before the oxygen hit my lung’ Seul cursed subtly.

Taehyung protested “I knew Jiminie and Gukkie are in this, but Yoongi hyung…why are you in this too?” his brows pinched together in annoyance.

“Am I not qualified to be in the battle?”

“NO YOU CANT- I MEAN YOU ARE QUALIFIED BUT YOU ARE NOT-I MEAN YOU CANT BECAUSE, THIS IS TOO- OH GOD… I DON’T KNOW” Miserably, she shook her head, hating herself for blurting out every thought. “Jinnie help me” she scooted close to Jin, burying her face in his arm.

Why oh why, Yoongi had to complicate things? Why couldn’t Yoongi shut his big mouth?

Slightly flustered by Seul’s sudden contact, Jin cracked an awkward smile “I think that is enough for today. Hyung, Namjoon and I will make sure the members behave and won’t do anything stupid, okay?” he looked suddenly wary of his surroundings. First of all, Seul was clinging onto him and that was by far the closest that he ever gotten with Seul. Then, he could hear his own heart beating in his ears.

“Alright, I don’t think I can handle more surprises today” he noted in sarcastic way. Sejin arose from his seat, throwing a last glance at the youngsters before him “We will be leaving in 30, settle whatever you guys have to settle. Im out from here” he exclaimed, closing the door behind him to clear his messy mind.

Not long after, Yoongi stood up getting ready to leave only to be stopped by Namjoon “Hyung where are you going? We still have to talk”

“I have make things clear, there is nothing to talk about” as much as it infuriated him to see Seul getting all cosy with Jin, he decided to let it go and did this thing using his own way. Yes, his own way. They watched his figure disappeared from their sight before everyone gathered back their lost soul and started to speak up “WHAT WAS THAT?” Hoseok cried out in disbelief.

“Yoongi hyung likes Seul too?”

“That is possible” said Jin.

“HOW?” Namjoon crossed his arm with a visible frown on his face.

Jin rubbed Seul’s hair “Seul knows. Let’s call it a day. Seul-ah, are you alright? Can you go back home alone? We can drop you off if it is okay for you” his sot voice continued with a touch of concern.

“I can manage that, don’t worry. I need time alone just to clear my mind” Seul’s attention was solely on Jin and it hurt both Jimin and Jungkook. Yet, they couldn’t blame her for that she almost lost her job and friend that she just made.

“Then I will walk you to the door” Seul slipped her hand over his, covering his hand. Seul gave everyone a polite bow and avoiding Jungkook and Jimin at all cost. She knew those two had a lot of things to ask, however she was in total mess. Not the right time to answer anyone.

“Good luck with your stage later on, I will cheer from far. And, oh.. I will see you around” she muttered before leaving the room.  

 ----------------

Time flies faster when you’re too occupy with your work. The busier you’re during a time interval, the faster that time interval will feel like it passed. That’s not surprising for BTS. They had just wrapped up their promotion two months ago and now they were doing their tour all over the world.

Manager Sejin would keep his eyes on the boys and made sure they would not plot any murderous act anymore after the one they pulled on him. He was getting used to see Seul lurking around the dorm doing her job, and whenever he needed something, he would casually ask the girl to do it for him. In other words, their relationship got better after the intense unintended meet up months ago.

Apart from bumping into each other during her work hour, Seul had never met any of the boys outside the dorm. The last one if she recalled was with Yoongi. The boys were too busy to even breath Korea’s air properly. Their travelling time to one concert venue to another was rather time consuming.

Few days ago, they wrapped their Wings Tour successfully in Hong Kong, and now they were preparing themselves for their very first appearance in Billboard Music Awards which took place few days from now.

“We have problem” the head stylist walked up to Sejin with a distressed face. They were on standby in the VIP waiting room as their flight to Las Vegas will take off in few hours. Everything went smoothly except one of the assistant stylists that was banned from boarding the plane due to her pregnancy. She was not allowed to board the long-haul flight since she’s 36 weeks pregnant. At this point, many airlines can refuse the passenger with such criteria due the increased risk of delivering on board.

Everyone was gathered in circle trying to resolve the issues considering they were outnumbered. Yesterday, one of the staffs had to take an emergency flight back to her hometown due to the death of her family member. Since it really came to this, they were at disadvantages. The head stylist couldn’t do everything alone, it would take a lot of time to prepare everyone. Not to mention, it would be a total chaos.

“Alright, who else we have back in the company?” Sejin scroll through his contact, trying to call out one of the managing directors.

She shook her head with a deep frown evident on her forehead “None. They are either booked for another event or they are out for training” she sighed.

Namjoon pressed his lips together “Hyung, can’t we recruit someone who isn’t from our company? Or someone that has no experience as a stylist but is capable to do such job? Since they are assisting nuna in her job, it should be okay right?” he suggested. His members were trying to read what’s on his mind and their sharp hunch were directed to that one person, only that one person.

“Who are you trying to suggest here?” her eyes glistened with hope. She was out of option; any hands would be a great help for her. Their manager blinked “Hoseok’s sister?” Hoseok shook his head in response.

“My nuna is not in town at the moment if I am not mistaken” he claimed.

Jin looked over his shoulder meeting Namjoon’s gaze “Are we thinking of the same person here?” he raised his eyebrow with questionable look. Nodding softly, Namjoon said calmly “Seul. Ji Seul” the manager rounded his eyes in surprise.

The name gauges her attention and she immediately inquired “Who is Ji Seul?”

“She is our caretaker’s daughter but once in awhile she would come over to help. I think she can assist you, nuna. She is good” Jin explained. Yoongi shot the two men a bewildered look, not agreeing to their wild ideas in pulling Seul into the mess. She was not trained to do a stressful job like this. On the contrary, the maknae line seemed to like the idea of having Seul travelled with them. It had been a long time since they had a proper conversation with her. They were barely in Korea and whenever they were around Seul would be busy to tend her other jobs.

There was a long pause between them before Sejin broke the silence “Alright, Jin can you give her a call, I will get someone to pick her up instantly. And, Bum-ah can you arrange Ji Seul’s flight ticket” he ordered.  The situation remained calm as they finally found the solution to it.

 ---------------

“Ahjussi, don’t you think, you need to hear me out before sending me off?” Ji Seul asked again this time not liking how she was forced into this without her consent. Jin trapped her mom with his sugar coated lies only to put Seul into trouble.

 “Jin-ah gave me a call..” her mother held onto the luggage handles as soon as she made her way inside the house.

“Ah, why?” she scanned her mother from head to toes realizing the cabin luggage stood lifelessly there. “Mom, are you going somewhere?” she blinked in dazed.

Mrs Hwang grinned “I am not, but you are. Your ride is here, quick. You might miss your flight” she pushed her daughter out softly. “ I have packed everything for you. This is your backpack. Your passport and your necessities are inside there. Enjoy your trip” she said chirpily.

“MOTHER WHERE ARE YOU SENDING ME” Seul stood still, refuse to budge even an inch.

“AISH JUST GO! The young man will explain to you on your way to the airport. So, don’t waste time. They need you to be there on time” she patted her back, forcing the young girl to put on her converse.

Her shriek of surprise echoed around the building, drumming in Mrs Hwang’s ears, “MOM ARE YOU SELLING ME OFF TO SOME RICH OLD MAN? OH MY GOD! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME” her heartbeat increased rapidly at the thought.

The older woman whacked her head causing the girl to moan slightly “Yah! It is not like that! This is a Bangtan’s thing, I have no time to explain so can you just go now. In the mean time you enjoy yourself” she gathered Seul’s purple backpack and dumped in her arm which she gladly accepted.

“Bangtan’s thing? Mom, I am not going anywhere. How about my work?” she frowned.

“I will talk to Wongeun-ah, don’t worry. You are going, let’s go” Mrs Hwang escorted her only daughter to the black urvan, ignoring her whiney voice that itched her ears.

 The man was annoyed of Seul’s never ending questions.  He explained everything to her without leaving any details, yet the girl seemed persistent of her rights to make decision. He helped to grab her things and walked ahead her “Ahjussi wait! Can’t you hear me?” Seul scowled in protest.

“Don’t I have a say in this? Like they should ask whether I am alright to travel with short notice. I have to take an official leave from job. I can’t just disappear without words. That is unethical” the man handed her the plane ticket, nodding along to her unclear words.

She gasped “Oh my god? This is real! I am going to Las Vegas for real… Are you crazy? I refuse to go!” he rolled his eyes listening to her tantrum.

“Young lady, I am not an ahjussi. I am as young as BTS’s Jin so stop calling me that, will you? As for your resentment towards the decision made by the company and your mother. I don’t have a say in that too, my job is to pick you up and make sure you enter the departure hall safely. So, it is almost boarding time. Make your way inside” he heaved a heavy sigh, escorting her to the gate.

Her jaw clenched shut, with a dispirited look, Seul dragged her heavy feet to the departure gate underwent the security check before she was allowed to enter the other side. Inhaling a deep breath followed by a deep exhale of all her doubts, she decided to see people in charge and if she could talk some sense out of them. She wished they had some common sense.

Following the sign in the area, she finally found her gate and skidded to the area as fast as lightning upon seeing people had started line up to board the plane. Squinting her eyes to make out familiar faces among the crowd, Seul caught a familiar stance. In the midst of the crowd, she found Yoongi stood out among them despite in his black mask. She would not forget that deadly sexy eyes which used to shake the deepest core in her heart.

Hurriedly, she squished in between the crowd apologizing in between for cutting the line. She ignored the nasty glare she received from others. Finally, she was only few metres away from Yoongi, Seul came nearer and grabbed his wrist, forcing the sleepy guy to stop walking further.

He snapped “YAH WHAT THE-“his eyes softened when he realized it was Seul.

“Yoongs...” she murmured.

“Can we talk? I am still confused” Yoongi slipped his hand into her, intertwining it together. Part of her was relief of finally reconnecting with him after so many months and to finally see some friendly faces.

Whispering lowly, “Let’s talk inside. The plane will take off soon” he tugged her lightly entering the plane. “But-“ she chewed her lower lips, tightening their hand together as she tailed him from behind mindlessly.

 -----------------

The flight was long and dreary, not to mention they barely survived a 4-hour journey and they had few more hours to cope. They were dying to get off the plane feeling fresh air on their skin. Yoongi stretched in his seat, finally recharging himself. He was planning to talk Seul earlier on, but too bad her seat was on the other section along with other staff members.

“Seul-ah it is okay if I drop the formality, right?” said the head stylist with a genuine smile. Seul simply nodded “It alright, I will call you unnie then” she chuckled.

“Let’s do that, we need to have a comfortable working environment. Thank you for doing this again, if you have any inquiries just let me know. Everyone is willing to help. Oh, for your information, there will be four make-up artists, a stylist and now it is two since you will be assisting me, three of their managers. There are other five staffs that in charge of their videos for Bangtan Bombs and Episodes. I will introduce you to them formally once we land” Seul listened attentively noting it in her head.

“Will their ceo attend the award show? Band PD-nim?”

She nodded “He will come but a day before the event, don’t worry we have informed him about this. He is grateful that we have someone to fill in” her eyes travelled to the small frame in front of her. “Yoongi-ah? Why are you here?” one of Seul’s brow arched in confusion.

Yoongi smiled bashfully “Nuna, can we exchange seat? The man who sat beside me snored loudly, I had a hard time falling asleep” his eyes glimmered with hope. She laughed softly knowing how annoyed Yoongi would be if someone invaded his precious sleep time.

“Will you be alright Seul-ah if I exchange seat with Yoongi?” she was concerned of Seul.

“I will be fine unnie. The star of the show deserves a good nap” Seul felt like ripping off that mouth of his. Yoongi’s smirk would be the cause of her death one day, how impudent. “Then I will leave Yoongi in your hand” she stood up from her seat, allowing the black hair guy taking her place.

“Thank you nuna”

“……..”

”………”

The dead silence between them giving of an awkward vibe. Seul played with her fingers trying to find a suitable word to start the conversation. “Yoong I-“ he lifted up the armrest which confused the girl.

“Let’s nap” encircling his arm around her waist, he closed the distance between them. She wanted to push him away, but he tightened her grip around her with one eyes close “I thought we want to talk” she felt a little queasy inside.

Yoongi hugged her closer, raining kisses near her temples, at the top of her ears and nuzzled her pink cheeks “We will talk later. I am sleepy” he soothed her hair. She settled in his arm comfortably, as her soft lips emitted a soft sigh “Fine…” with a frown, she leaned down pressing her ear to his chest, she listened to his heartbeat hammering against it.

His heart raced, fluttering in his chest vigorously.

“Sleep well”

  This work belongs to  Chimswae © 2020. All Rights Reserved

[recurring-polynya]

Bleach Sword Beasts Arc Recap: Episode 260

Yuppp, it’s time for the Kazeshini Befriends a Baby episode.

Friends, I know someone’s gonna yell at me for this, but honestly, I remembered this one being better. I mean, obviously, the idea seems like comedy gold, but as I was watching it, I felt like they had this concept and then just... failed to ride with it. Like “It’s Kazeshini.... and a baby! It’s hilarious!” without actually being hilarious. Regardless, I know people would be disappointed if I didn’t cover this one, because it is beloved, so I will do my best.

Ep opens with Hisagi Naruto-running through the woods while Kazeshini cackles, so I guess that counts as a strong start, but it’s literally just footage they re-used from the episode where they fought back during the Muramasa rebellion. I gotta say, if I went to shinigami school and trained with the blade, etc, and then found out my sword spirit was a crazy murderer who hated me and would absolutely not help me in any situation, I would take some night courses and become a shinigami bartender. I would not “deal with” some stupid death pinwheels that scared me. I would simply pursue another line of employment. I would also not get the sex number tattooed on my face, so these are just a few of the ways I am different from Hisagi Shuuhei.

I guess that was supposed to be an actual flashback, because then it cuts to Ikkaku, Iba, Izuru, and Shuuhei running through the woods. What a friggin’ dream team. Ikkaku and Iba are on exposition duty, and thus we learn that they are off to Rukongai to fight some sword beasts who are starting shit, as is their wont. They get attacked by Kazeshini and Hisagi sighs and tells everyone else to go on ahead with exactly the same inflection as an absentee dad in an 80′s film who just remembered he can’t go to the game because he has to pick up his son from soccer practice. It’s now Kira’s turn to provide some exposition, and he explains to Iba and Ikkaku that Hisagi’s zanpakutou is, as they say, a huge bitch. He voiceovers his own flashback to the time he totally beat Kazeshini and looked super cool. Iba and Ikkaku agree: Wow. Kazeshini sure is a huge bitch.

Shuuhei and Kazeshini fight for a while, but Shuuhei is so, so tired, and finally he’s like “Dude, I am at work, can we do this later?” and Kazeshini gets mad and pouty.

I really like the next part where Hisagi runs up to some Kira and Iba who are standing around in Rukongai, which is smoking, and says “Sorry I’m late.” Ikkaku is nowhere to be seen draw your own conclusions. It is no wonder the Rukongai dwellers hate Soul Reapers, I would definitely be printing up anti-shinigami propaganda if I lived in the Rukon.

I am sorry, I can’t stop taking screenshots of these goons, I love them. Ikakku shows up and says they were all too late, it was like this when we got here. Whatever you say, man.

Cut to a cliff where Kazeshini is gazing over the smoking town, and Haineko, Hozukimaru and Wabisuke roll in to give him some life advice. Look, the best thing about this arc is the great care and attention they give to pointedly ignoring that no one ever made up zanpakutou for some of the shinigami. Maybe you won’t notice, they say, that we never show Iba’s zanpakutou. He surely has one and it definitely has a name, look, here’s a catgirl! God, I would give my liver to get the backstory on Iba’s zanpakutou. I hope it’s just Ray Smuckles from Achewood.

It turns out this is an intervention, the other zanpakutou are as sick of Kazeshini’s shit as Hisagi is. They are literally just like “what is wrong with you man?” and then say he can’t come to the cool parties down in the zanpakutou cave anymore if he can’t get his shit together. (Do you think Byakuya is still invited to those? I mean, I am sure he doesn’t go). Kazeshini yells “You’re not MY DAD!” and jumps off a cliff.

Kazeshini attacks Hisagi again while Hisagi is in the middle of a fight with an actual sword beast. Hisagi is really fed up by this time, he’s busy and this is getting pretty tiresome (to us, the audience as well). He throws Kazeshini through a wall, yells “I don’t have time for this” and gets back to business. Kazeshini is upset because no one is paying attention to him and goes looking for Hisagi. What he finds instead is a sword beast murdering a dude. The sword beast calls Kazeshini a dog of the Soul Reapers so Kazeshini stabs him in the friggin’ face, the first time this episode we have seen Kazeshini’s commitment to murderin’ dudes. Of course, the sword beast was in the middle of his own murder at the time, and the poor dude bleeding out on the floor begs Kazeshini to take care of his infant son.

I am presuming it’s his son. He could have been stolen that baby. Maybe they were just roommates. I don’t know how babies work in Soul Society and every time I think about it, it gives me a headache. Anyway, the baby has appeared.

To be perfectly honest, the dad didn’t even look that hurt and Kazeshini doesn’t know how much blood people are suppose to have in them, I bet he was just faking to get rid of this baby.

Kazeshini deadass looks this baby in the eyes and in a gravelly Clint Eastwood voice says “Look, kid, the only thing I am interested in is reaping lives” and I laughed my ass off, this is the actual funniest thing that happens in this episode.

The baby starts crying because Kazeshini won’t let him touch his death pinwheels, and the Soul Reapers hear it and start to run over. Kazeshini yells “I guess I have no choice!” grabs the baby and scrams. He had... no choice. He is very committed to murders, but he had no choice but to leave the baby sitting on the ground for 30 seconds before some authority figures ran up and found it. No. Choice.

GOD, I would give anything to see Iba, Ikkaku, Kira and Hisagi try to take care of a baby. Iba would try to get the Shinigami Women’s Association to take it and they would refuse. He would put the baby in sunglasses and one of those chest wraps. Ikkaku would try to teach the baby to fight, while Kira shouted “You can’t teach a baby to fight!” Hisagi would try to read a book on childhood development and get some Bad Ideas. Eventually, Ukitake would show up and take the baby away from them. I would give you all the money in my pocket for this, Bleach writers, but NO.

Kazeshini tries to talk the baby into going off and getting a job or something, but that doesn’t work. He tries to abandon it and... fails, I guess. He goes back to the cliff where the other zanpakutou show up to laugh at him and refuse to help, as well they should.

The baby cries because Kazeshini won’t let him touch his scythe thingies, so Kazeshini let’s him touch them. a) of all, this is not how parenting works, Kazeshini, and b) why does Kubo/whoever wrote this episode think babies love sharp objects, because this is exactly how the scene where Zaraki meets Yachiru goes. I have had babies. Do not get me wrong, babies love things they can hurt themselves with, mine particularly loved power cables, but I do not think they are generally interested in weaponry, but then again, this is Bleach, so it’s probably just a sign that this kid is going to grow up and be a Soul Reaper. I think this is the part of the episode where I started speculating where the baby would get his ‘69′ tattoo, because clearly, the cycle continues, and my husband made me shut up because he didn’t want to think about it, but search your heart, you know it’s truuuuuuuuue. If they ever do a Bleach Next Generation series, this kid better show up and he better have that tatt.

The baby pees on Kazeshini.

There’s a montage of the baby further harshing Kazeshini’s Hisagi-bothering lifestyle.

Then, Kira tells Hisagi that “there’s a rumor going around the zanpakutou about yours.” Why are the zanpakutou telling Kira their rumors. Do Kira and Wabisuke hang out? I mean, all of these takes place within, like, 2 hours, I think? While everyone’s on a mission? I don’t care, now I’m just mad that we got robbed of a Kira & Wabisuke episode where they listened to a bunch of The Cure together and made a poetry chapbook.

Kazeshini really, really wants to fight Hisagi at this point, but the baby has fallen asleep. He tries to leave it on a roof, but the baby rolls off the roof. Maybe it’s because I have kids, I dunno, but none of these antics are really funny to me, they’re just dumb. Literally, why doesn’t he just leave it on the ground?? All of these jokes revolve around him being an idiot and not caring about the baby, but he could have not just taken it in the first place. (there’s one point where he does try to hook it on a tree branch and that was funny, because we always talked about putting hooks on the wall that we could hang the babies on, just, like, for a minute, they would have loved it). Anyway, he spots a shed on the edge of town and decides that would be the perfect spot to abandon a baby while he murders his master.

Fight time! God, I love a Scooby Doo sequence where you have different characters running up and down streets and in and out of doorways, and there is a delightful one of Iba, Ikkaku, Kira and Hisagi fighting sword beasts. I cannot believe I am more delighted by the lieutenant parts of this episode than the Kazeshini parts, but that’s just who I am now.

We actually get to see some competent Hisagi fighting. Kazeshini is about to jump in and mess him up again, but the baby starts crying back in the shed. (it’s so far away??? How does he even hear it???)  I guess he cares now, so he runs back to go get his kid. In the meantime, a nice lady has found the baby and is attempting to comfort it, except that the moment Kazeshini slides into the doorway she... drops the baby? The baby is comforted by hugging Kazeshini’s pointy shoe, and Kazeshini realizes that perhaps this woman will be an incompetent enough parent to take over in his stead.

Oh no a sword beast attacks him from behind! I guess it’s the one I thought he killed earlier, because it says “Oh, it’s you, the Soul Reaper’s dog!” Kazeshini isn’t even good at murdering, wtf? This episode is dumb.

Anyway, Kazeshini stabs the sword beast, and it definitely dies this time. He has an intense moment of realization that saving people is almost as cool as murdering people, and tells the lady to take the baby and run. The baby cries while a very intense guitar chord plays.

Kazeshini finds Hisagi, who is killing the last of the sword beasts, and is like “Okay, I promise not to attack you from behind can we fight now?” The episode then goes full-bore D R A M A, where they say “Reap--!” at the same time and there’s a smash cut to T H E  S K Y  and a woman singing a lullaby with some haunting reverb and then it intersperses imagery of the woman comforting the crying baby in a field full of floating dandelion seeds and Kazeshini and Hisagi fighting. At this point, if the episode doesn’t end with them each dying on the ground, I am going to be deeply disappointed. (Spoiler: I am deeply disappointed).

There’s a pretty good death pinwheel-on-death pinwheel fight, although it’s short. Hisagi stans gotta take what they can get, I guess. Anyway, at least Kazeshini ends up lying in a pool of his own blood, where he mumbles “When I turn back into a regular zanpakutou... what will we fight for?” and Hisagi replies “We will fight to protect people” and Kazeshini makes this face:

This was the second funniest part of this episode.

He turns back into swords and that’s the end.

In canon, the bit about Hisagi fearing his own blades is an interesting bit of character building, that fits in nicely with his admiration of Tousen, and the fact that he’s a bit of an artsy, writer type. It builds up the idea that Soul Reapers are not just bloodthirsty warriors, but people with morals and concerns, that they fight to protect, just like Ichigo does.

This episode in no way contributes to that idea. It’s more like the writers say, “Hey, people love Grimmjow! Let’s make a yell-y guy who likes to kill people!” Why does Kazeshini want to murder so badly? Who hurt him? He’s part of Hisagi’s psyche, but why? Why are either of them like this? In my head, prior to this, I could think of Kazeshini as a disembodied voice encouraging the escalation of violence. Hisagi was weak and powerless as a child, and then, in one of his first command positions, had a group of underclassmen in his care brutally attacked and a friend killed. I can see him having urges to go to extremes-- to get revenge, to kill monsters before they can kill innocents, but he fears these urges within himself, he fears becoming a monster.

The way this filler arc portrays Kazeshini doesn’t fit. It doesn’t work. Kazeshini is just a dirtbag who wants to kill and attack from behind and then they give him a baby and they don’t even have anything interesting to say about any of this. It’s honestly just disappointing. That’s right. I’m disappointed in you, Bleach Filler Episode about Kazeshini Toting a Baby Around. C-. It’s not quite the level of disappointment I had over the one where Renji blew up Urahara’s van, but Hisagi fans really don’t get thrown a lot of bones, and they deserve better than this.

Oh, and then in the next episode voiceover, Wabisuke theorizes that the baby was Kazeshini’s lovechild. We definitely do not have time unpack all that, so let’s end it here.