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yesimwriting · 4 years ago

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Searing Starlight (chapter 3)

A/n I CANNOT believe how many people have supported this story,, I’m so excited to continue it with you guys :))

Just a reminder that while this is based off the show i hope to blend in some book aspects/vibes and this is just a fanfic and it won’t be completely accurate/follow the show 100% and any changes I make/parts I chose not to focus on are for the sake of the story I’m trying to tell

I can’t tell if I wish Kaz had let me go with Inej or not. She’s faster than I am, and considering that I have no real reason to be loyal to them, I’m a flight risk. That means I’m stuck here with only the Kaz Brekker and Jesper, who I tricked. I hadn’t exactly befriended Inej entirely in the few minutes I was alone with her, but she seemed more trustworthy than them. More susceptible to reason. And when she heard where I was from, who was responsible for raising me, something in the way she watched me changed. It was the oddest combination--a look of both tired sympathy and cautious admiration.

“What I don’t understand…” Jesper breaks the silence. “Is why you all go back there. He lets you leave, he gives you money--there’s no reason to return.”

I try not to let the question anger me. I shift awkwardly, scratching at my palm. “We tried leaving.” My stomach knots. “Once.” How do I make them understand? “He caught us because we young and stupid, and then he…” I exhale slowly. They’re just words. They don’t change anything. Whether I speak them or not, the events of my history aren’t different. “He picked the youngest, a girl only six months younger than me, and he slit her throat from ear to ear and took a finger of anyone that flinched as her blood splattered onto them. He said her blood was our penance and to live with knowing what we did to her would be our punishment.”

I don’t tell them that I was twelve. I don’t tell them Anya lied about my birthday on the records. I don’t tell them I’m missing the very tip of my pinky--a small punishment for the twitch of my lip. “When Kenya is truly angry, he never hurts you--he hurts those around you.” No one responds to that. They’re making me seem like such a bummer. “It’s not awful all the time...he borders on agreeable when you listen to him.”

Most days we have peace, left to our own devices as long as we accomplish certain goals. Their silence does little to unnerve me. After speaking so freely of such a nightmare, the desire to be rid of the taste of those words from my mouth is almost overwhelming, but I hold to the silence.

“Why has he never sold you to the grisha that are so desperate for you?”

Of course Kaz Brekker would ask a question like that. “He isn’t the business of money, he’s in the business of creating gods. He indentures people he thinks could one day become saints or something else entirely. He wants to be owed by the heavens.”

I watch Kaz carefully, a part of me curious about how someone like him could react to a goal like that. I can see him understanding the ambition of it all, but I can’t imagine himself a person of faith. Perhaps he’ll think it a clever trick. Perhaps he’ll even agree with Kenya.

He nods once; something I get nothing from.

Whatever. He can be coy and distant this entire time. They all can. I’ll be out of here soon enough, and I’ll find Anya. And if I can stop something bad from happening to Alina then that’s a bonus I’m willing to take risks for.

“That man is awful.”

Inej’s voice comes from right behind me. I snap my head around. “You’re in here.”

She nods once, oblivious to how shocking her sudden appearance is. She hands me a knapsack casually, staring at Kaz. “What’s the plan? We have six hours.”

I look around the room, only seeing one closed window and one closed door. “There’s one door in this room.”

“We take the Inferni to the ship.” He doesn’t even bother looking in my direction.

Okay, they can be mean to be all they want but they can’t ignore me. I don’t think I’ve ever been ignored in my entire life. Gods in the making get attention. It may be the cruel attention of fate, but it’s something.

“Did she come in through the window?”

Again, I am ignored.

“And then what, boss?” Jesper casually crosses the room, sitting down next to me on the small couch. It’s like I’m not even here. “We’d need to break into the Little Palace to get Alina.”

What? “You guys are going to--” No. No. I am not kidnapping Alina. And there’s no way she’d be in the Little Palace. “First off--if you want to kidnap Alina Starkov for whatever insane ploy you’re all playing at, you’d never find her at Little Palace. She’s not a Grisha and second--” I cut myself off, standing from my seat. “Why am I even telling you this? I shouldn’t be helping you kidnap her.”

Kaz’s eyes dart to me boredly. At least it’s some kind of acknowledgement of my existence. “I thought you two weren’t close.”

I seriously consider scorching him. Just a little. Not even enough to scar him, just enough to get him to shut up. “She’s still a person who has a right to her body and what happens to it.”

“Not that it’s any of your concern, but if we pull this off we get one million kruge.”

What does he think I’m going to say? ‘Okay, well as long as you’re doing it for a good reason.’ Is that the response he expects. “Okay, well that makes it fair.”

His eyes narrow skeptically, but Jesper is the one to ask, “Really?”

“No,” I scoff, slumping back into my seat, “I was being sarcastic.”

I drop my head back, neck craning over the back of the small couch. It isn’t exactly comfortable, but at least it makes it easier to ignore them. I’ve kept worse company for less. There’s an odd silence for a long second. I look forward without moving, I see Kaz vaguely gesture in Inej’s direction.

“Y/n,” Inej’s voice is refreshingly measured, “I think after the kinds of things we’ve gone through we understand that there’s some relativity in morality.”

I shift my head to the right so I can look at her. “...Yes, but you’re just forcing another girl into a similar situation.” Why is Alina even worth so much? “And why would anyone pay so much for Alina?”

Inej hesitates, glancing at Kaz and then back at me. “She’s a Sun Summoner.”

On instinct, I straighten entirely, my body rigid. They’re insane. “You all are cracked if you think Alina’s a Sun Summoner.” No. No. It couldn’t be her. “Bless your hearts, seriously, she’s--she was trained to be a map maker--she’s not…” None of them relax, none of them shift in any way. What good would lying about this bring them? They have no reason to lie about this. “Saints, I should have had more to drink while downstairs.”

So what if she’s a Sun Summoner? She didn’t ask to be one. She doesn’t deserve this. I cross my arms. “It doesn’t make this okay.”

“And would it make it okay if you were getting a cut of the profit?” What?

Kaz is looking at me in that tactful way. It takes all of my focus to not let myself become unnerved. “What?”

“If I offered you a cut, would you be able to push aside more protests in order to make working with you easier?”

Could I do it? Could I betray Alina? I drop my gaze away from his, opting to focus on the forgotten lantern on the coffee table in front of me. It flickers to life with no conscious prompting on my part. The flame is low and blue. Still though, Kaz notices it. What doesn’t he notice?

“I can help you do what I agreed to.” I swallow around a lump in my throat, “But I cannot help you kidnap Alina.”

The corner of his mouth tugs downwards. “We’re just going to get her to work with us.”

“Work with you?”

“We never said anything about taking her, and if Alina is really your friend you should know that the entire world is after her. Better us who can get her out of an unwanted situation quickly than the brutal General Kirigan who will hold her hostage until she does what he wants.”

...I guess he has a point. “Oh.” I’m not naive enough to think that their methods will revolve around making Alina comfortable, but perhaps it’s not as dark as I assumed. “Maybe I was a little quick to assume…” I trail off awkwardly, looking at Inej for some type of reassurance. She avoids my gaze.

I scratch the back of my arm, feeling like a spiraling child. I pick up my knapsack and place it on my lap, fiddling with the strap.

“Come on,” Kaz stands, adjusting his grip on his cane, “We only have until sunrise.”

As I stand, I pull down the skirt of my dress, suddenly aware of how inappropriate my clothing is for this late in the night. “Can--can I change first?”

It’s a sheepish question, leaving me feeling like a child.

“Five minutes,” Kaz offers, stepping out of the room with the rest of them.

Inej leaves last, feet more silent than a cat. She offers me the tiniest hint of a smile. Despite my reservations, I beam at her. Something about me finds her politeness endearing despite it all. I think she closes the door loudly on purpose, to assure me of privacy.

Normally changing in a building so full of drunk men would leave me nervous, but knowing Inej is outside leaves me feeling safe. I may not trust her with my life but something about her being tells me she values personal autonomy enough to protect it.

I sift through the belongings Inej brought me. Clean underwear I try not think of her searching for, a thin white dress, comfortable pants, shorts, a few casual shirts, my red hood, and a nightgown. When I get to the bottom of the bag, and I see the personal belongings Inej smuggled back for me, I’m moved so powerfully my hand flies to my mouth on instinct. She had brought the folded up piece of paper with the only information I’ve been able to find about Kamil, the book I left on my nightstand, the small candle holder Alina had given me the day before I was taken away, the blade Mal had given me the day I left, the deck of playing cards Anya had first taught me to play with, and my mother’s necklace. The silver north star on a long chain.

Before I can become too emotional, I take off the Crow’s Club T-shirt Inej had given me when I looked cold. I change into black pants, tucking the small blade Mal had given me into the pocket. The shirt I put on is pale blue, breaking the dark theme of everything around me. I fasten my red hood over my shoulders, basking in the familiar fabric. Lastly, I pull the north star necklace over my head, watching the blue orb with a black dot at its center blink at me in the light. I always found the stone at the pendant’s center odd. I'm quick to walk towards the door, nervous about what wasting their time could mean.

“Let’s do this,” I sigh, pushing open the door.

They all pause. Or maybe they were never moving. I try to imagine them interacting normally, but it’s hard to picture them as anything but intense and unflinching. There’s something odd about them, though, Jesper practically sulking and Kaz dropping his head despite Inej’s harsh stare.

“What kind of stone is in your necklace?”

I swear to the Saints that if Kaz Brekker tries to steal it I’ll melt those leather gloves into his hands. “Try to take it and--”

“That’s what I get for trying to make ‘polite conversation.’” He throws a look at Inej as he speaks the last two words.

Wait--did Inej tell him to try to make polite conversation? Wait--more importantly, did he just kind of, almost say something that borders on casual?

Wrinkling my nose, I let out a slight sigh. “Sorry.”

His eyebrows draw together quizzically. “Did you just apologize for assuming I’d steal from you?”

Great. Now I’m fully embarrassed. “Can we just go?”

“Not before meeting me, I hope.” The stranger’s voice means nothing to me, but the others tense at it immediately. What? The man continues to walk forward, his steps too casual and confident for me to trust. The stranger is quick to respond to the question on my face, “Pekka Rollins.”

Taglist: @ambrosia-v-black @fandomstuffff @boxofteenageideas @losers-club6 @cityofstaars @stillreadingfantasy @slatersbrekker @xoxo-aclown @alzawas-plug @nuwanda-greaser @swearingsolemnly @-thatgirloverthere-

General Taglist: @theincredibledeadlyviper @grishaverse7

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lin-nin · 4 years ago

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A Mother’s Love & Grief

Ship: SurrogateMother!Reader x SurrogateSon!Wilbur, Philza x Reader

Plot: Wars were never fun, and you hated them. Especially when they involved the sons of your friend.

Disclaimer: Dream SMP Spoilers up to the Manberg vs Pogtopia War, some depictions of violence! Currently a one-shot, but if interest is high I could see myself doing more.

---

You had always been there, lingering the edges and watching. Carefully watching as Wilbur and Tommy got up to their shenanigans. It was the least you could do for Philza. Watching his boys was easy, originally. It had started out simple, even as they raised the walls of L'Manberg. You were proud of them then, even as they fought for their independence. You had felt a fierce pride on how they had grown, regardless of their reasons.

The pain you had felt the day of the first revolution matched your pride. It had hurt seeing them get hurt the way they had, but you were powerless to stop them. There was a leverage over you because of them that you couldn't risk actively picking sides. So you watched, though you made sure to tell them you were proud of them once it all ended. You even promised Wilbur to tell Philza what a good job the two of them had to done. He had always wanted the approval of his father, and creating a country for freedom surely was a reason to be proud.

As L'Manberg grew, you settled within the walls, celebrating happily with the boys as they did. It was with pride you had watched the election, rooting for them to win. It was what they clearly wanted. The pride could only turn to horror as they were exiled, though. You had frantically shoved Tommy away, acutely aware of how dire it was that he get out safe. You had sacrificed yourself that night, an arrow through the neck draining you. A shot meant for Tommy. You couldn't do the same for Wilbur, helplessly watching as he was shot down by Punz. You couldn’t even cry out for him when you had seen the shot coming.

Everything had changed that day. You had carefully snuck off to their exile, forcing Technoblade to promise to watch them and take care of them. They were Philza’s boys, and he at least owed his friend that. You kept to Manberg then, sneaking out periodically to offer up information when you could. It wasn't until just before the festival when Tommy had come to you, desperate for help.

"It's Wilbur! He's gone- He's gone mad! He wants to blow up L'Manberg, he thinks it'll fix it. You have to tell him, tell him it's wrong. He won't listen to me. Please," The youngest had begged you, and you had relented without a second thought. Wilbur looked mad when you had walked into Pogtopia, his hair a mess. You hadn't seen him since the banishment.

"Wilbur…" You murmured cautiously, causing him to spin towards you.

"Did Tommy tell you? What do you think?" He asked, a grin on his face. An unstable grin. You needed to proceed cautiously, and you knew that.

"I think… it's impressive, but surely there's another way, isn't there?"

"If there's no L'Manberg to rule, wouldn't that be better? No more Schlatt, no more presidency, no more Dream breathing down our necks. Its perfect!" He seemed eager, and it made your heart pang.

"If there's no L'Manberg, you, me, Tommy and Tubbo all lost lives for nothing. Tommy would have given up his discs for nothing. Were all of the sacrifices pointless?" You kept your voice level, trying not to be cynical towards him. One thing could set him off.

"You died for Tommy! I'm proud of him for his growth but L'Manberg has only caused problems. Wouldn’t Phil be proud?" The words had stunned you then.

"Would Phil be proud? You're planning to blow up an entire country because you rightfully lost, Wilbur! Why would he be proud?" You had gestured around the pair of you, words clearly upsetting the brunette.

"Because I'm doing what's right! Who gives a damn if it makes me the bad guy?" Wilbur flung his hands up, scowling at you.

"You can solve this without blowing up a country, without being a terrorist! You aren't doing the right thing!" You had been fed up and frustrated, deeming to Tommy that there was clearly no reasoning with Wilbur. He was beyond that point. You could see it in his eyes.

The festival had caused more pain. It seemed like that's all it had brought. Tubbo died at the hands of Technoblade that day, the shot only spurring you more. What the hell had this country done? When the war came you kept to yourself. The second revolution was rough, but you truly wanted no part of it. It was for a country you were having your doubts for, but at least it was in tact. You may not care much for it, but the others did so you didn't care.

It was only when the victory cheers rallied that you cared to look, smiling almost fondly at the boys as they gave their speeches. It was messy and unpolished, but their pride and joy was immeasurable. They had succeeded in something they cared about for the second time.

Peace never seemed to stay with L'Manberg though. No sooner than victory was declared, fighting broke out again. You cried out as Techno fired at your boys, doing everything you could to protect it. That's when you heard it, the hissing of bombs. You hardly had time to react, watching as the ground beneath everyone shattered, erupting into a rain of wood and Earth. It was chaos, and you frantically searched for Wilbur. You didn't care that he had done this- please just let him be okay.

He was stood in a cave across one of the craters. With Philza. The man looked torn, and you could only stand and watch. It felt like slow motion as Wilbur shoved the sword into his father's hands. Philza’s wings flexed, frustrated as he yelled. You couldn't make out the words, everything ringing around you from the explosion. The sword was pointed towards Wilbur’s chest, the tip threatening to impale him. And then it did, and you weren’t sure if Wilbur had pushed himself onto it or if Philza had done it himself.

You were vaguely aware of the screaming. Your own screaming, to be exact, as tears streamed down your face. Wilbur was gone. The last life he had, taken in the name of a country that had done him wrong. You don't remember who moved you from the chaos of the battle. It became a blur in your shock and grief.

Days had passed and you sat in a house that had been built for you. You believed Tubbo had built it, simply saying that you deserved it. The grief had shocked you numb, the moments replaying through your head every time your eyes closed. Philza eventually visited, the visitations often quiet. Much of the time was spent with him making sure you were taken care of. As time passed, you opened up more, you recovered. The wound sort of healed. Enough for you to speak to Philza of his sons and what they had gotten up to in his absence.

As you recounted stories, you often found yourself pressed to his side, a dark wing draped around you. Sometimes he even managed to get you out of the house, walking around the lake they'd put in the explosion craters. Sometimes you would stare down at the water, watching the fish dance beneath the surface. Like they'd always belonged there.

It was all fine, until the day you met Ghostbur. The ghost had floated in behind Philza one day, chatting happily in a voice that only seemed reminiscent of Wilbur. He had introduced himself, recounting a few memories. That Wilbur had always cared deeply for you, and that he knew you had always done the same and looked out for him. He only seemed to remember the fond memories, and part of it hurt. He was Wilbur. Yet he wasn't. An echo of the boy you watched grow.

It had been silent as you sat there, even after Ghostbur left. Philza didn't follow, simply settling beside you. A wing wrapped around you, safely tucking you into his side. The sun was setting when he finally broke the silence. "I know," he mumbled quietly. As if anything louder would have been too much. "I miss him too."

"Everyday?" You whispered, voice thick with sadness. You looked up to him, desperate for reassurance. That this was normal, that you weren't alone.

"Everyday. It's hard. I always wonder if I could have stopped him." He stared wistfully out the window, and you released a shuddering breath.

"I do too. I tried. Not hard enough. Maybe I should have stopped him from even creating L'Manberg. All that it has brought is pain. So many people died for it. Our boys-" You choked as you spoke, the words spilling out with no restraint. "We lost him. I lost him. I loved him, Phil. He was like my own son, and watching him die-"

It was the first time you broke. The first time you spilled and acknowledged everything like this. Phil had shifted, moving to tug you into his lap. To hold you tight, both wings cocooning you there. You clung to him without a second thought, face burying into his neck as you sobbed.

"Everytime I close my eyes I see it- his body just- it hurts, and I couldn't stop it. I couldn’t save him, I couldn't save my boy," Your voice raised with your hysteria, and Phil rubbed your back.

"It isn't your fault. I don't know if either of us could have saved him. It's okay to grieve him, but don't let it eat you alive." His cheek rested against your head, and you hiccuped softly. He held onto you tight, the moment feeling horribly somber. You had finally broken after months of barely living.

"Ghostbur isn't the same. He's not our Wilbur," you whispered after your crying had slowed.

"No, he's not. He tries, though. He's got the best intentions with what he can remember. He wanted to see you right away but we wouldn't let him. He said Wilbur always thought of you as a mother." His voice was soft. Tender. You took a shaking breath, sitting up some more so you could look at Phil.

"How much does he remember?" You questioned, leaning into the hand that came to cup your cheek. Your eyelids fluttered shut as he wiped at the tear tracks with his thumb, trying to make sure you were okay.

"The trauma is gone, for the most part. He seems to only remember the good." He explained, and you nodded. You were somewhat glad for that. You weren't sure you could handle it if he remembered every detail of his demise.

"Was I a good mother?" Your voice was meek as you questioned Phil, reaching up to cradle his hand. His gaze softened at the action, moving to hold your hand instead.

"Given the circumstances, I'd say you weren’t bad. You tried your best to protect them. Tommy told me about the exile. That there is enough to rule you a decent mother." He ran one of his knuckles against the scar on your neck.

"I didn't even think about it when I did it," You leaned forward, settling your head on his shoulder.

"You don't need to, as a parent. It's instinct. Just remember the other two are still alive, I think they could use you." You nodded, closing your eyes. "Try and actually talk to Ghostbur soon, too. It'd make him happy." You only nodded again, the emotional exhaustion wearing on you. Phil pressed a ghost of a kiss to your temple, before settling his head atop yours. You weren't sure when you lost consciousness, only aware of the warmth and closure in your heart.

#philza #philza minecraft #philza x reader #philza minecraft x reader

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shadowfae · 4 years ago

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We’re all pretty aware that the tumblr otherkin community is at a huge decline; I was wondering if you have any theories as to why that is?

American Protestantism, the decline of queer oppression in North America and the AIDS crisis, helicopter parenting, web 3.0, morality politics, and Tumblr’s porn ban; roughly in that order and rolled up into one bombshell that was a few years in the coming but nobody really saw it and understood it until it was far too late.

That was a mouthful and probably only made sense if you follow current cyberpolitical theory. For some of you reading this, as with every other hot take I have this has a chance of being passed around, that alone is enough. But for others who had no idea what I just said and need the ELI5 version, let me explain that. Buckle up, this’ll be a long one, and will go into fandom history a bit as well because it is actually relevant.

As we know, tumblr is a very American-centric platform. Twitter is also this way, but less so, but tumblr has it bad. Now, I’m ‘lucky’ in the fact that I’m Canadian and a twenty minute drive from the American border, so that puts me in the ‘privileged’ majority. (I say privileged because I’m not really sure what else to call it. Most of the information going around about politics either directly affects me or indirectly affects me approximately one or two links of contact away. Someone who’s only influenced by American politics because it makes their sister’s online friends sad is not going to be privileged in that way.)

This means that American politics and their social climate overwhelmingly affects tumblr’s social climate. This also bleeds through into other fandom spaces, on twitter, instagram, and Pixiv to name a few places; but here’s where I spend the majority of my time so here’s what I’ve witnessed.

America’s main religion, as far as I understand (from the raised agnostic and currently neopagan view I have), is some weirdass capitalistic-Protestantism that is so many miles from what the actual Bible says that if I were a betting man and knew more about cults than I did, I’d say it’s some weird fucking cult and never set foot in the country again for any reason that isn’t gaming free shipping through a PO box. If you have no idea what I just said but are at least vaguely familiar with Christianity, this graphic explains it pretty well. So we can see there’s some glaring issues with that ideal.

The decline of queer oppression and the rise of queer rights in North America, which is to tenderly include my own country but we all know when people say ‘in NA’ they mean ‘America, and Canada where it applies because the right-wing Republicans are really good in the propaganda department to convince everyone that Mexico is a drug-lords-and-anarchy wasteland to the point where even I don’t actually know what’s down there other than bad drivers and heat’; means two things. One, it’s a good thing by a long shot and do not mistake this as me thinking queer oppression being lessened is a bad thing. But two, it means that thanks to the AIDS crisis, queer folks lost a lot of first-person sources as history.

The queer elders in NA who survived are typically either a) bitter anarchists who are often POC, probably still dirt poor and do recreational drugs or b) university-tenured TERFs (trans exclusionary radical feminists). Category A are the people who Republicans have deemed worthless in every way, because racism, queerphobia, ableism, and all the other ways to be wrong and different and Evil that they can’t handle, because Jeezus would never want them to actually learn to love someone who wasn’t just like them, and they don’t have the compassion to do better. Category B are the people who want to be different in just a teensie little bit, typically with TERFs they want to be lesbians, but they don’t want to challenge the status quo. They’re fine with the way things work, they just want to be on top oppressing others over ripping the whole damn thing down and building a more forgiving system.

Now, due to all those ‘isms and the cheerfully malicious aid of the Republicans, pun not intended but drives home the cruelty of it all, we also see the rise of helicopter parenting. The invention of the internet did not really help this. Basically what you’ve got is a whole bunch of parents who saw the civil rights movement, just got access to the internet and things going viral, know the world is changing, and like all parents, they’re scared for their children. Now instead of parents knowing one or two people in their classes who just went missing one day and everyone assumed they ran away, they hear about eight homicides in the city of kids going to parks at night and dying. The Satanic Panic was another event around this time that contributed to that, but I’ll let you research that one.

This means that all of these parents, instead of doing what their parents typically did and let their kids wander off for the day so long as they’re back by sundown, they can’t let their children out of their sight. There might be a freak accident where their child is decapitated on the playground swing! Their baby might get murdered by an evil Satanist walking home from school! Their dearest darling might go online and tell their address to someone who’s got a 100% chance of being a pedophile who will show up and kidnap them in the night!

…You get the idea.

Combine those three things I just established, what we’ve got is a lot of queer kids who have a lot of internalized shame for being different and wrong, because they’re queer, and they can’t find spaces offline to be themselves, because all of the elders who would do that are dead and/or inaccessible and their parents won’t let them go to any clubs that aren’t school-related, which they’ll never find a GSA or queer club because Republicans, ‘isms, propaganda, and the war on Category A queer adults have all done their best to ensure that those spaces don’t exist.

So you have a generation of kids who I am the youngest of. The first generation on the internet. The late Web 1.0 (usenets and Geocities) and early Web 2.0 (livejournal was the big one, ff.net too, also 4chan but fuck those guys) generation. What we were taught was: trust nobody on the internet with your real info no matter how much you like them, this is a wilderness and any crimes that happen won’t be punished or seen so don’t put yourself in a position where you’re going to be the victim of one, and everything you put online is never getting taken down so don’t put anything up that you’re not willing to have on the front page of your local newspaper.

This worked out pretty well, actually! You had kids who knew that if they got in trouble, there was no backup coming to save them. Because the form that backup might take - parents and police - wasn’t going to help. Best case, they’d be banned from their friends and online support groups for being queer. Worst case, they’d be jailed and put in juvie and conversion therapy and turn to drugs and become evil Satanists just like everyone says they secretly are already. So they learned very quickly to take care of themselves. Nobody was going to save them, so they learned to not need saving.

And then, well, Web 2.0 shifted to Web 3.0. Livejournal died because parents - the Warriors for Innocence was the big name - went “gasp how horrible my children are being exposed to the evil pedos and homosexuals they’re going to do drugs and die of AIDS!”. Which is uh. It’s filled with a lot of bigotry, and I’m not excusing them - absolutely I am not - but you can kind of see where they’re coming from, if you tilt your head and squint.

Either way, LJ died, tumblr took its place, Facebook was fast taking off, and the fandom folks who had seen mailing lists go inactive, web admins take their fanfic sites down due to copyright, entire fandoms burnt to the ground in flame wars, said ‘fuck that we’re making our own place’ and that’s how AO3 got made.

That’s important. A lot of folks move to AO3, because well, the rules let them. The rules say ‘you can throw literally anything up here so long as it’s fan content and is not literally illegal, so we don’t get taken down’. It’s a swing for the first generation internet users, those kids who know this place is a wilderness and are carving out our own sanctuary.

But. The children under us. The children for whom AIDS is a nightmarish fairy tale, for whom the ghost stories are conversion therapy, for whom know they can’t really talk to their parents about being queer but can trust they probably won’t get kicked out over it. The children who haven’t spent ten seconds without supervision except online, and their reaction isn’t ‘oh thank god I’m finally free to express myself’ but ‘if I get in trouble, who will protect me?’.

And there’s nobody there. Because we went in knowing there was no backup. And that was fine. But now, the actual adults have figured out that hey uh, maybe we should make cyber laws? Maybe we should make revenge porn and grooming children over the internet crimes? And they grew up with that. They grew up learning that no, even if your parents are suffocating and controlling, they’re always be there for you! Some adult will always be there to protect you!

That isn’t the case. It’s not. But they expect it, because it’s always been done for them. They don’t really want to change the status quo, because that means doing it themselves. They can’t do that, because they don’t know how, they’ve been controlled for every single part of their lives thanks to helicopter parenting and without that control, they don’t know how to keep their lives together, and they demand someone come and control it for them, without restraining them.

Effectively, they want someone to ensure they never face the consequences of their actions. Helicopter parents will rescue you from whatever you did, because you’re their precious baby and it doesn’t matter if you punched a kid, you can do no wrong and the other kid clearly started it.

But being queer is doing wrong. Being queer is something Jeezus doesn’t approve of. So they want to make it something he could approve of! But if it’s too off what they consider to be okay, if it’s too different and weird and wrong and evil, that can’t do, that’s still bad, and they’re precious angels, and children, and minors, why are we the adults not protecting them and letting them see it? Why aren’t we being just like their parents but queer-friendly, why aren’t we protecting the children?

The adults who taught us were the children of those who died as a result of AIDS. The eldest of my generation knew some of them personally. My therapist’s younger brother died at 20 of AIDS, and she told me what it was like. But they don’t have that. These kids of web 3.0, they don’t have that. What they have is over-controlling parents, and the expectation that someone will always be there to protect them but hopefully in ways that don’t hurt them this time, no real understanding of why Category A queer elders are the way they are, and so much internalized shame that they have to do some pretty fancy logic-leaping to keep them from collapsing entirely.

They can’t turn into Category A queer youngsters, because they don’t know how to unravel the system around them, because they’ve never had to actually make choices in their lives and live with the consequences, because they don’t have the example of how to do it. They can’t unravel their internalized shame because again, that’s hard and they don’t have their parents to take away the consequences and pain. It doesn’t come easy to them, so it may as well not come at all.

But, you ask, if Category A queer elders aren’t around to teach the kids, then how are they learning anything positive at all? Well, Category B, our university-tenured TERFs, who don’t want to change the status quo but want to just be at the top of it instead.

For a lot of kids who don’t know how to make hard choices but want to be queer, this is an extremely attractive option. But when they go online to queer spaces, a lot of them say fuck terfs, we don’t support your hate, and they go ‘yeah okay that makes sense’. They can say fuck terfs without ever actually questioning why terfs are bad. They’re Bad and Evil, just like drug addicts, just like fairytale nazis, just like the evil homophobes.

And we saw them say ‘yeah fuck terfs’ and we were like, ‘aight you got it’ and we never questioned if they actually understood us. They didn’t. They didn’t, and we didn’t do enough to fix it, because not enough of us realized the problem. So terfs got a little sneaky. They hid behind dogwhistles and easy little comments, hiding their rhetoric in queer theory that you’ll absolutely miss if you just memorize it and never actually question it and understand why that point is being made.

This goes back to America sucking, because their school system is far more focused on rote memorization over actual logic and understanding of the text. They’re engaging with queer theory the way they’ve been taught, which is memorize and don’t think, don’t question. Besides, questioning and understanding is hard. Being shown different points of view and asked what they think is not only hard but requires them to go against all of the conditioning that says to just listen and agree and never question it, which goes back to tearing the system and internalized shame down, and we’ve established they can’t do that so naturally they don’t do that.

This begets, then, the rise of exclusionary politics. They’re turning into Category B queer youngsters, because we told them ‘hey that’s a terf talking point what are you doing’ and they never questioned why. They learned you can do all sorts of things, just don’t say X, Y, or Z, because they never thought deeply about it.

The children who have grown on Web 3.0 do not want to do any heavy lifting to make things easier for themselves long-run. They want to do as little as possible and have things get better for them. There isn’t enough of us left in Category A, because Category B terfs are very good at recruiting young folks and Cat. A is overwhelming poor, dead, and easily dismissed in the system as evil and bad, so we can’t exactly convince the young folks to listen. If all of the young kids could agree to tear down the system, a lot more older folks might listen. Change always starts with the young, and there’s a reason for that.

But Republicans have figured out, if you get people fighting, they never put together a force that can actually stop you. TERFs, who want the exact same thing as Republicans but with themselves on top, are doing this to queer youth, and Cat. A elders can’t fight back because there isn’t enough of them and the odds are against them, and the young folk like me who follow their lead.

People can kinda handle gay people. It’s not so far from the acceptable normal that it’s impassable. But you want them to handle kinky people? Gay people of colour? Kinky gay people of colour? Trans people? Those are bridges too far to step across. The original idea was to get the foot in the door with marriage equality and inch our way through with racial equality, sex positivity, dismantling ableism and perisexism (forgive me if that isn’t the word for anti-intersex ‘ism), and see if we can’t patch up the system instead of inciting a civil war over this and have to tear down the system entirely.

Well, we might’ve managed that if not for AIDS being the perfect ‘Jeezus is killing all the evil gay people for being sinners’ propaganda machine. As it stands now, not a chance in hell. So long as Republicans and terfs keep everyone fighting, nobody has the power to dismantle their empire, and they stay in power.

So then, you ask me, “Lu what the fuck does that have to do with the decline of otherkinity on tumblr???�� and now that you’ve got all that background knowledge, here is your answer.

Those children who want their experiences curated for them and the evil icky content they don’t like to be gone because it disgusts them and anything that disgusts them is clearly sinful problematic and should be destroyed, are what we call ‘antishippers’, or anti for short.

They like being progressive. Sort of. They learned what Republicans and terfs have honed to a fine talent: keep people fighting, hold them to a bar they have to constantly make or risk being ostracized, and harass the people who don’t play along into getting out of your sight forever. Sound familiar?

They learned of otherkinity, and particularly fictionkind, because web 3.0 means if something goes viral on one site, it doesn’t just go viral on that site, it makes it to worldwide newspapers and twitter and nobody ever, ever fucking forgets it. They realized the following: “Hey wait, if I’m this character for realsies, not only does it help me deal with the internalized shame I’ve done nothing to actually fix because that takes work, I can also tell these people who draw gross content I don’t like they’re hurting me personally, and that actually sounds credible, and I can shame them into stopping”.

If this is your first time here and that sounds sickening, it damn well should, and I am so, so sorry that any of us had to witness this, and I am more sorry I and everyone else who personally witnessed this didn’t realize what was going on and put a stop to it. I answer asks and browse the tags and clear up misinformation and it isn’t just a genuine desire to help. It’s damage control, and my own way of trying to deal with the guilt of not stopping this. I’m well aware I couldn’t have seen it coming, I was a teenager myself still learning and no one person has that much power. I still feel like I should have done more, and I’ll do what I can to fix what’s within my power to fix.

So back to the story. This all culminates around 2016 or so. Trump wins the election, and every queer person ever knows they’re fucked, and the younger generation’s only ever heard horror stories, never seen actual oppression that this could bring. We’re all scared. We all don’t know what to do. Nobody has any answers or any control over the situation.

So they lash out. They attack others for drawing things they don’t like, for challenging them in literally any way, for asking them to reconsider the vile shit they just said, for so much as defending themselves from the harassment they just got. And when challenged, they yell “But I’m a minor! A literal child! How dare you attack me, clearly you get off on this, you evil pedophile!” and they sling around every insult in the book until one sticks. Pedophile is a pretty good one, so is abuser, and sometimes zoophile works out too. Freak is great, everyone gets right pissed off about it.

The fact that Category A queer elders were called pedophiles and freaks is not a fact they know or care about. The fact that they are quickly making every fandom community super toxic is also not a fact they care about. The fact that the ‘kin community has words and terminology and they actually mean shit, and the fact that they’re spreading misinformation faster than we can keep up with, are not facts they care about.

So they come in, take our terms, make it impossible for us to find new folks. They realize our anger is easily a power trip, because we’re already made fun of, so they get off on the little power they can find and make fun of us too, and then when we get rightfully annoyed and pissed off, they can hide behind being minors.

Then tumblr implements their porn ban, because nobody’s stopping them, because it isn’t profitable to have porn on here. Considering most of the otherkin community, and most fandom communities, are full of adults who do occasionally talk about NSFW things, and the fact that they’re just banning everyone who so much as breathes wrong, this begins the start of a mass exodus, scattering already fragile communities to twitter, pillowfort, dreamwidth, and a few other places. Largely, twitter, where you can’t make a post longer than a snappy comeback and where the algorithm is literally designed to piss you off as much as possible.

So community elders have largely left, because they can’t stand the drama and the pain of what’s happened, and that’s if they didn’t get banned for being kinky furries who do talk about how their kintypes merge with their sexuality. Most community members have also left or stopped talking about being ‘kin, because they get associated with antishippers and toxicity and it’s just not worth it. Those of us who are left get drowned out by misinformation and trolls and wishkin and antishippers who appropriate our terminology because it supports them getting a power trip, and whenever we argue, we get called pedophiles and freaks and worse.

And now there isn’t much left. I hope we get to find a better place. Othercon was a good place to talk about it, I did a whole panel (it’s on Youtube!) about what we want to do about it. But I don’t really have any answers.

But to sum it all up... America’s political climate ultimately culminated in destroying queer spaces, and we survived, and then people who wanted to destroy smaller communities to get on top showed up and we were all but defenseless against something we had never, ever dealt with before on this scale.

One of my twitter mutuals mentioned how kinning and otherkin are now completely separate communities. It’s really the best I can do to keep hoping that continues, until nobody realizes the words are at all connected to each other. It’s the best anyone can hope for, now. I hate it. I hate every part of this. But maybe we can salvage what’s left.

#luteia laments #otherkin #fictionkin #alth #alterhuman #asks #anonymous #long post //#discussions #on community history #on politics #on public relations #commentors feel free to add your own thoughts!#Anonymous

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clumsyracconking · 4 years ago

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a villain

Ch.11 (1105 words)

Damn, 3am me when I was writing this really just said fuck the ship, well whatever happens happens I guess, imagine Dabi sitting there listening to Hatef--k by The Bravery while he’s thinking about Hawks. On a side note I suddenly realize the monster that I call a fanfic I’ve created.

Tags: @rachi-roo-bnha @imacowboy3 @magical-girl-04

Dabi had nothing to do other than sit with his thoughts, he was wishing he hadn’t kicked Hawks out because at least Hawks could fill the space a bit, or they could fuck, either way, when it was just Dabi the place felt empty and lonely.

“Knock knock bitch.” Shoto said barging into Dabi’s apartment without having actually knocked, he was covered in soot, “I’m using your shower because Toga’s works weird.”

“I- yeah ok go for it kid.” Dabi wasn’t going to tell Shoto that all of the showers in the building worked weird, he’d figure it out at some point. He did wonder why his brother was covered in soot but that was explained when he got a text with a video file from Hawks. “I know you don’t want to talk to me but figured you might want to see this.” And God Hawks was right, he did want to see that it was kind of awesome.

“Hey Shig I need to talk to you and tell you about something.” Hawks was down at the bar for the first time in a while.

“The fuck do you want kfc.” Shigaraki knew about his new recruit who had recently been offed and was pissed but would still hear the bird out.

“I want to start working for you again, this whole solo thing isn’t working out. I want to wreak some more havoc and the most effective way to do that is to join you.” Hawks had a very matter of fact tone when he spoke knowing Shigaraki rather that than a ‘clueless NPC’ in his words.

“You and patchwork are having issues aren't you.” Shigaraki said he didn't ask because he knew they were. He motioned to Kurogiri to pass them some glasses and booze, they were in for a long night.

In the end Hawks and Shigaraki ended up getting hammered and playing video games. The next morning the two were found leaning on each other, controllers in their laps.

“Oh my fuck.” Toga gasped seeing Hawks and Shigaraki, she had to take a picture of this and that’s exactly what she did and then went to show Shoto it’s not like he would really get it but she couldn't exactly show Dabi, she knew something was up with them.

“Young Hawks I advise you to move before he wakes up.” Kurogiri said tapping Hawks on the shoulder in efforts of waking him up, spoiler alert it didn’t work. Kurogiri even went to check his pulse to be sure Hawks wasn’t dead. He wasn't, just really tired. So the misty man gave up, he’d separate them if it got bad.

Shigaraki woke up first, feeling the added weight of Hawks on his side. “You smell like stale cigarettes kfc, you know that right.”

“I’m aware, exquisite observation.” He deadpanned not opening his eyes, if Shigaraki was going to kill him he would've done it already so he wasn't worried.

“Very well.” Shigaraki said putting a gloved hand on Hawks’ head, contrary to popular belief the two didn’t hate each other's company.

“So did we ever actually get to the question you asked me or did we just drink and game?”

“We drank an’ gamed most of the night I think, I gotta say I have missed having a challenge when I game though. Dabi is shit and Toga doesn't really get the controls.” Hawks said eyes still closed and pushing into the hand that was resting on his head.

“What about the youngest Todoroki kid? How's he play?” Shigaraki asked with a grin on his face.

“Oh you mother fucker, you knew?” Hawks’ eyes shot open, when he spoke he left it vague so Shigaraki could fill in what he knew there were a lot of Todoroki secrets that he could know.

“That you’ve been harboring the youngest and that Dabi is the oldest, yeah I knew it’s really not that hard to figure out, plus that time you all got really high the youngest came down and grabbed like two bottles from Giri, he’s still pissed about that by the way.” Shigaraki was just playing with Hawks’ hair at this point and speaking in a calm tone which is something he only ever did around Hawks and once or twice around Toga when she didn’t feel well and he only did that because he knew no one would believe her.

“Damn, well technically I wasn’t harboring him just somewhat housing him. Yeah no, don’t even tell me that sounds like bullshit I already know.”

“As long as you know kfc. We should get up at the very least move though.”

“You right, you right but I wish you weren't because I’m comfy.”

“So why'd you get upset with Hawks yesterday? And why did you say it was a conversation for us to have later?” Shoto really didn’t understand beating around the brush or small talk, he and Dabi were sitting around because he didn't like being alone and Toga had gone out, Hawks was nowhere to be found so he settled for Dabi.

“Fucking christ, I don’t know how to say this.” Dabi found it frustrating when he couldn't articulate his thoughts and now really wasn't the time.

“That seems like a you problem bro.”

“God the last person who called me bro was Natsu. Well damn guess that works too.” Dabi hadn’t meant to say it like that, kind of anticlimactic really.

“Did I just hear you right?”

“Yeah Sho you did. It’s me, I'm Touya but emo.” Dabi added the last bit in attempts to lighten the mood a bit, it wasn't effective.

“Oh you mother fucker, God Fuyumi would fucking kill you, hell I want to kill you.” Shoto wasn’t mad but he wasn’t happy, more irritated and sad really. After a few moments of silence Shoto spoke again, “I remember that night you know, watching you leave. You said you’d be back soon and that it was our secret. All hell broke loose in the morning, Natsuo and Fuyumi were in hysterics for hours, Natsuo was never the same and Fuyumi basically became a mum for all of us, even cooking for father.” Dabi knew all of this, he hadn’t truly left, he still came by often, he just stuck to the shadows and the roofs so no one would know.

“I’m gonna go for a bit, I need a second.” Shoto murmured to himself and got up with his hand on the door. He looked back at his older brother, “I’m glad to have you back.” Before walking out and going to sit alone wishing he’d chosen to do that in the first place.

#mha hawks #mha #mha fanfic #dabi #tw swearing

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itsclydebitches · 5 years ago

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RWBY Recaps: “A New Approach”

A friend of mine has a van that she calls the Fun Bus. Oh that’s cute, I thought. I should chuck that into a recap sometime. “All aboard the RWBY Fun Bus!” Except my fun levels are ehhh right now, so how about we just don’t.

In fact, let’s be totally up front about things and get the major positives out of the way:

The animation this volume is absolutely stunning holy shit

I would once again die for James Ironwood. All hail the Hug King

Excellent introduction for Tyrian and Watts. I love feeling like the villains are actually dangerous again

The rest? I’ve got some things to say.

We open on Ruby looking appropriately downtrodden over their circumstances. Getting carted off in an Atlas police craft and all that. We get a pan across each side of the airship with the group looking angry (Yang) or defeated (everyone else)... with the exception of Nora, who is trying to eat through her bonds. I’m well aware that I’m nit-picking at this point, but for once I’d like the serious moments to remain serious in this show. Given her reaction to Salem, Kuroyuri, etc. we’re all well aware by now that Nora is more than just the comic relief. Undermining the others’ reactions with her making dog noises was an early cue that the writers weren’t going to treat the group’s arrest earnestly. To say nothing of the disservice it does to her character.

Actually, there were a lot of coincidental dog references in this scene. Nora’s growling. Referring to the Ace-Ops as Ironwood’s “personal attack dogs.” Deducing that he must have a “bone to pick” with them. Obviously this all means precisely nothing. What I want it to mean is that Zwei will arrive in another package courtesy of Tai, wondering how his kids are doing after one ran off and the other went to find her.

(Seriously though, does everyone remember Volume Five’s ending with Raven? Heaven only knows when that will become relevant again.)

While Nora continues to try and eat metal like a rabid animal, Jaune expresses disbelief that the Ace-Ops “took us out like it was nothing.” Honestly, it never ceases to amaze me how often the group is surprised by other people being stronger than them. Like they’re not the youngest and least trained in a world of professional huntsmen. Rather than acknowledging their need for improvement though---callback to Ruby’s “But we already know how to fight” anyone?---Weiss frames it as an exceptionalism intrinsic to her city. “Welcome to Atlas.” You know, the same city she quickly agreed to steal from and then draw the attention of the guards by giving a racist civilian what-for. The speed with which the show flip-flops between ‘We should fear this city’ and ‘But we shouldn’t take any actual precautions’ is pretty impressive.

All of which is made weirder by Weiss’ next line to the other prisoner locked up with them: “They’re not that big of a deal.” So... which is it, Weiss? Are the Ace-Ops Ironwood’s elites who can obviously take out a group of nine in seconds flat? Or are they worth scoffing and rolling your eyes at? Because you had a rather different opinion literally seconds ago. She does the same thing when the prisoner uses the term “tyranny” to describe the situation in Mantle. She claims now that the label is a “bit much” when before the whole group decided not to approach Ironwood precisely because of how tyrannical he appeared. I swear, good chunks of the dialogue just functions as openings for the plot---let the random prisoner explain all the horrors of this city!---rather than something the character in question would actually say.

But I’m harping. We learn a bit more about Hill and her “Happy Huntresses,” clearly a parallel to Robin Hood and his band of Merry Men. I was actually surprised to learn that she’s a full-on freedom fighter, just based on her posters last episode. The number of them and their professional look felt more like Atlas’ brand of propaganda. Big brother sister is watching you and all that. Then again, we also learn that Hill is gunning for a seat on the council, so it sounds like she’s not an ally of Ironwood’s plotting betrayal, and not a radical entirely removed from him either. We’ll have to wait and see precisely where she falls in this divide between Atlas and Mantle.

That fight is treated rather cheaply by the writing though. In this episode at least. Despite providing numerous looks at how horrible things are for the citizens here, this prisoner, currently representing that fight against the elite, is depicted as an absolute buffoon. He’s not engaging in an important, glorious battle for human rights. He just chucked a brick at an airship. He’s over the top, overly passionate, crazed enough that the group is looking away as he desperately tries to convince the guards up front that these things are important. The thing is? He’s right. But the writing doesn’t encourage us to treat his cause with respect, not when he’s bouncing off the walls and yelling like a conspiracy theorist. Actually, that’s the best comparison I can think of here. It’s like if someone laying out 100% real issues with climate change were written like a crack-pot loner who believes in aliens. That’s this guy.

We’re shown again that literally everyone recognizes Weiss Schnee---does no one else in all of Remnant have white hair?---before Jaune and a few others get distracted by how pretty the view is outside. Qrow commented earlier that they were no doubt going to jail.

Spoiler! It’s not jail.

It’s Atlas Academy, animated in a truly stunning design that reminds me of Weiss’ trip to the CTV tower to contact her dad. Looking back, that skyscraper-esque building probably made her anxious for reasons outside of just the call.

“I guess we will be seeing the General,” Ruby says because yeah, why would we have the group experiencing one iota of punishment before being handed the solution to their current predicament?

Look, anyone who follows these recaps is well aware of my feelings towards the airship debacle. I said last week that I wanted the writing to treat the group’s horrific mistakes and criminal activities seriously, but I wasn’t overly hopeful. I was right not to be. From now until the conversation about Salem, the ‘protagonists can do no wrong’ mindset that drove Volume Six is pulled out again in full force.

First, Winter sees the group in handcuffs and responds with, “You have ten seconds to take those off before I start hurting you.” Which is completely out of character to me. Does Winter adore Weiss? Without a doubt. But Winter is also a stickler for protocol and rules. This is the women who threatened to remove Qrow’s tongue over a few vague, anti-Atlas statements. She is all about devotion to her Kingdom. So how should she react when she sees a group of kids being formally brought in for charges? I don’t know, maybe find out what’s going on before demanding an immediate release? Here, Winter prioritizes the emotional assumption that Weiss and her friends are perfectly innocent as opposed to trusting that they’re in handcuffs for a reason. Which they are. Combine that with the humor of the guards scrambling to obey her with more silly sound effects and it’s once again clear that the group’s arrest was never going to be taken seriously.

Things get so much worse though. Ironwood starts apologizing to them, also working under the assumption that this was all some sort of silly mistake. Of course you shouldn’t be in handcuffs. You’re the good guys! Yang and a few others have the gall to be haughty here (yeah, how dare you arrest us after we committed multiple crimes) and for a moment I think all of this will actually amount to something when Ironwood laughs and says, “We assumed [the ship] was stolen!”

Uh yeah, goes Ruby. It... was?

Which results in a brief moment of shock and about three seconds of anger from Winter... and then that’s it. That’s all we get. Weiss interrupts her with, “I’m sorry I worried you, but we did what we had to do” which, no?? Okay first off, worrying Winter is not the issue here. She’s been worried for literally those three seconds and nothing more. Second, as I’ve established numerous times in the past, they did not “do what they had to do.” Absolutely nothing in Argus forced their hand to the point where stealing military property, fighting Cordovin, drawing that grimm, and then deliberately hiding out from Atlas authorities was justified. Why doesn’t Winter or Ironwood challenge them on this? Why the hell would two military personnel accept at face value that committing all of these crimes was necessary? Imagine your younger sister steals a car (which is in no way comparable to an Atlas airship, but let’s run with it). She and her friends then get caught by the neighbor they stole it from, started a fight instead of giving it back, endangered a bunch of other people on the road, got the police involved, and hid out until they were finally arrested. Then at the police station big sister gets angry at the officers for daring to book you and is pacified with a hug. Don’t worry, dear. I know there’s no possible way you could be in the wrong here. No reason to acknowledge, let alone address, why you thought those were acceptable actions in the first place.

Qrow is briefly called out for letting this happen, but like Maria’s comment last episode about the group being incapable of keeping a low profile, he shrugs it off with a joke. “You try stopping these kids when they have their mind set on something.” You know what these ‘jokes’ remind me of? Privilege. Stuff like “Boys will be boys ¯\_(ツ)_/¯” where people accept that change is impossible, so why would we bother calling anyone out on their mistakes? Boys are just hardwired to hurt girls and call it love. Teens are just hardwired to steal airships and call it necessary. You know what they’re like. Putting your foot down is useless because that’s just how they naturally function... and we’re all going to ignore the fact that no one else could get away with this shit. They’re the special ones exempt from repercussions. There’s a reason why both both Oscar and Ruby smile here. They know they’re not in trouble.

What all of this boils down to is that the group is above both the law and basic decency. That’s what Cordovin, Ironwood, Winter, and the writing all tell us. It doesn’t matter how many people you endanger. What you steal. What you break in order to accomplish that. Or how long you might try to hide what you’ve done. You’re you, a nebulous acceptance that you’re somehow above everyone and everything. These kids are never going to learn anything because each time they make a mistake---even massive mistakes that put a whole city in danger---they’re rewarded with smiles and a blanket acceptance that they did what they had to do. That is beyond frustrating to me. For the love of god, let them face an actual consequence for once.

It’s not going to happen though. Even the Ace-Ops apologize for doing their job (and treat Ruby like some sort of celebrity in the process). RWBYJNRQO is painted as victims for suffering the indignity of arrest... when they did numerous things they should have been arrested for. I particularly love Weiss’, “You could have asked us some questions first.” Yes, because everyone should be in the habit of taking a criminal’s word at face value and then letting them go when they say, “I’m innocent.” Rather than acknowledging any of this, the writing has the Ace-Ops go out of their way to emphasize how special the group is. You’re kids, but only technically. You’re students, but who cares. You’re as good as us, regardless of training or qualifications. That fact remains that the group did in fact do everything they were accused of and more, something that should generate reflection on whether they’re up for being paired with professionals, rather than an insistence that they’re automatically on par with these adults who complete their missions in a legal, safe manner. If that Argus fight gets them hugs and cool new weaponry, I shudder to think what else the group can not only get away with, but be rewarded for.

Once everyone blindly bypasses one of the biggest conflicts of Volume Six, we hit on the other divisive choice this episode: Ruby lying to Ironwood about Ozpin and the relic.

Okay. I’m going to be as clear as I can here: Ruby is being a massive hypocrite. That’s it. That’s the situation. I shouldn’t have been surprised by the fandom’s reaction, and yet I somehow still was. In just a few hours I’ve seen at least twenty posts detailing how Ruby is not a hypocrite because her situation is totally different from Ozpin’s. HE can’t keep secrets. SHE can. Which is the definition of hypocrisy: the group holding someone to a moral standard that they themselves will not strive for. Are there differences between telling the group about Salem and telling Ironwood about Salem? Yes, but the decision of whether or not to tell them derives from the exact same concerns:

Ozpin: I don’t know if I should tell these kids about Salem. I don’t know if I can fully trust them. I worry that admitting the relic still has questions will result in them using one irresponsibly.

Ruby: I don’t know if I should tell Ironwood about Salem. I don’t know if we can fully trust him. I worry that admitting the relic still has a question left will result in him using it irresponsibly.

And everyone is in on it. During the elevator ride up they all want to know what Ruby will say, meaning that they’re ready and willing to lie the moment she decides that’s best. “We’ll follow your lead,” Blake says. No one pipes up with, “Hey. Why are we considering lying to Ironwood when we decided that there’s no moral justification for keeping secrets like that? Especially from an ally involved in this fight?” Except, the group obviously never decided that. Jaune was happy to keep his secret back at Beacon. Blake too. Yang is still withholding info about the Spring Maiden. They’re all perfectly happy to lie provided they’re the ones doing the lying. Someone else doing that to them though? Omg, how dare you.

That’s hypocrisy.

(As a side note: good lord this group is so astoundingly bad at fighting a strategic war. They announce that they should be careful about what they say to Ironwood while two of Ironwood’s guards are in the elevator with them. This is a needless conversation! No one has to establish that they’ll follow Ruby’s lead! But yes, let’s talk about our plans to withhold information from the General while two of his men are very obviously listening in. We even get a shot of one guard looking over at that little tid-bit. I wouldn’t be surprised if this came back to bite them in the form of:

Guard, who I am naming Brad: “Sir, I thought you should be aware... the prisoners that just left? I overheard them discussing whether or not they would tell you something.”

Ironwood: “What? But I thought we trusted one another... did they say what this something was?”

Brad: “No, sir. They just agreed to be careful about what they said in front of you. They clearly intended to hide something though.”

Ironwood. “Huh. Now that I think about it, Ruby did interrupt Oscar when he was about to say something. And she was awfully nervous about it.”

Brad: “Sounds suspicious, sir. I’d look into it.”

Ironwood: “Right you are, Brad. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I’ll be sure you get a hefty bonus at the holiday party.”

Brad: “Thank you, sir! My husband and I appreciate it.”

Gay guards aside, this is why Ozpin was right to be cautious. This group is too hot-headed, too immature, and often too plain dense to keep world-shattering secrets safe. This moment gets put up alongside Yang’s demand that Ozpin spill all his top-secret info while the random old woman they picked up 30 seconds ago watches. They just don’t think.)

In short, they are in the same exact situation as Ozpin. Weighing truth against potential repercussions. The fact that said repercussions vary in severity---a group of teens betraying him and/or caving under the pressure vs. a potential dictator betraying them and/or caving under pressure---doesn’t matter. They’re both really bad potential outcomes and both parties are right to be cautious. So yes, I agree with Ruby’s hesitance. It’s the smart thing to do. What I don’t agree with is the characters’ and the fandom’s insistence that Ozpin is not likewise smart for doing the exact same thing. Now that Ruby has made this choice she’d better damn well acknowledge her own hypocrisy. If the writing doesn’t give us a serious moment in which the group reconsiders their actions against Ozpin in light of their recent choices, then the ‘protagonists can do no wrong’ mindset has irrevocably damaged this show. Because you can’t have Ruby making the exact same choices her mentor made and not change her perspective now that she’s had the chance to walk in his shoes. “Oh wow. Sometimes you do want to play information close to your chest. Maybe we were wrong to respond so viciously to Ozpin’s secrecy when I literally just did the exact same thing to someone else. I get it now.”

All that being said, I’d actually argue that Ironwood is in a more justified position to have that information. He’s a chosen member of Ozpin’s inner circle. Ozpin never got the chance to vet this group. He’s a fully fledged huntsmen in charge of an entire Kingdom. They’re a bunch of half-trained kids. Checking in on/taking the relic to Atlas does not require knowing about Salem’s immortality. Enacting a plan to tell the whole world about her really, really does.

Because what else is Ironwood’s end game here? The only way this plan makes any sense is if he believes that Salem is mortal. Ozpin may have failed to kill her, but if we get an entire world to attack her at once we’re bound to win! This plan straight up falls apart when you realize that defeating Salem is not a matter of more manpower. Salem’s immortality is the Achilles’ heel of this scheme, whereas fighting the good fight is something the group signed up for right from the start. Not that Ironwood’s plan is a great one, even if it were viable. I’m sorry, but plunging a whole world into despair---something that draws literal monsters out of the woodwork---is a pretty terrible idea. Ironwood’s army can’t be everywhere at once and an announcement of that proportion would cause an untold amount of death and destruction. I can sort of get Ironwood’s sacrificial perspective. Deal with the fallout because the end result (finally defeating Salem) will be worth it. “Trying to hide the truth from the world will eventually kill us all,” he says, except hiding the truth hasn’t limited humanity in the way he assumes it has. It has allowed humanity to live in peace while a select few try to figure out how to kill an immortal woman.

...speaking of, how has Ironwood not realized Salem immortality? This remains a basic if/then construction of the story that blows my mind whenever people fail to pass it. “If Ozpin has fought Salem for over a thousand years, then Salem is either immortal or reincarnating like he does.” Because nothing else is possible! I mean, maybe Ironwood does know about her immortality and he intends his plan to work for reasons I can’t fathom right now, but it’s looking really unlikely after this episode. It just astounds me that we haven’t had a single character go, “Of course she’s immortal. Why is that surprising to everyone?”

Anyway, I’ve gotten horrendously off topic plot-wise. We learn that Penny and Winter now know about the relics and Maidens---something that worries me a bit because, as a piece of technology, Penny is potentially hackable. Especially with Watts on the loose. The Ace-Ops know as well. We also learn that they’ve already found the Winter Maiden who, according to Qrow, is “not exactly a spring chicken.” Huh. Another important piece of information that wasn’t blithely announced because people naturally work on a need-to-know basis... Sorry. Not diving back into the salt. That comment does actually intrigue me though. We know the powers can only pass to young women, so it’s a cool setup to present us with someone who has actually survived with that power for most of her life. I’m also eager to know whether Winter is set up to be the next Maiden. “Young” is a subjective marker and one of the criticisms fans have leveled at Ozpin is the fact that he put that pressure on Pyrrha instead of asking an older, fully trained huntress to be the Fall Maiden. Making Winter the next Maiden will lend support to that criticism. Ozpin could have chosen someone older, an actual adult, and actively chose to give it to a teen. As opposed to the assumption I’ve always worked under: those like Glynda and Winter are now too old. We’ll have to see.

Outside of the Salem part of the plan, I think making Amity Arena into a satellite is an excellent idea. Provided grimm like the Nevermore really can’t reach it. It’s actually cool to see how our real life, kind of boring tech makes its way into a sci-fi/fantasy series.

And while all this stuff is getting revealed we see how utterly thrilled Ironwood is to have them all back. To be blunt: I adore this characterization. I want this to be real. Not only because it’s a breath of fresh air to have someone acting so loving and optimistic towards everyone---He acknowledges Ozpin’s existence! Look at that smile! Kneeling down!---but also because it would be an excellent subversion of the premier’s setup. Dictator-y military figures buckling under paranoia is out. Tired but loving military figures making mistakes they’re willing to fix is in. That hug with Qrow? It added ten years to my life. Tender moments between two stoic guys will carry me through these cold winter months.

But (there’s always a “but”...) I’m not willing to buy into this characterization just yet. Not only because Ruby herself obviously isn’t ready to trust it. Not only because this is a story and we expect conflicts in the form of twists and surprises. Not even because there are moments where our trio feels vaguely threatening, stationed perfectly behind that desk, separated from the rest of the group.

No, I’m hesitating because this whole encounters feels... staged. Let’s review the series of events from Ironwood’s perspective:

You learn that one of your airships has been stolen

Instead of sending some everyday guards like the situation calls for, you send out your most elite group to take care of this issue

They immediately confiscate the relic, demonstrating a) that they know it’s important (they recognize it as a relic) while likewise b) not showing any surprise that one of the four, magical objects in the world just happened to turn up among these random teens

They bring the relic to you

Someone orders the pilots to bring RWBYJNRQO to Atlas Academy, not jail

You then act surprised when the group suddenly arrives

Which, under the circumstances, makes no sense to me. Even if Ironwood had no idea who stole the airship (I’d have expected Cordovin to have contacted him about the distinctive group heading his way...), he would have figured it out the moment the Ace-Ops walked in with a relic in their possession. Someone obviously gave the order for them to bypass jail and come straight to him. Basically, Ironwood is expecting them. Ironwood set up the arrest and everything attached to it. The surprise at their arrival, the fawning over their treatment, really over the top emphasis on trusting each other... This whole thing feels fishy to me considering that he had to have known it was all happening in the first place. It feels like a man crafting a situation where he can look approachable and kindly, arriving like a savior and endearing the group to him. Remember who got you out of those bonds? Huh? Huh? Even the choice to give Ruby the relic back. Do I need to point out how incredibly stupid that is? Ironwood isn’t stupid. He wouldn’t give an invaluable, magical object back to a 17yo unless he had another, good reason for doing so; unless the need to make Ruby and her followers blindly trust him outweighs the risk the relic is in while she carries it.

I mean... seriously. The entire point of coming to Atlas was to put the relic in a safe place. And then Ironwood decides that carrying it around on the streets is somehow better than locking it up in the vault? When Ruby and everyone else just got beat by the Ace-Ops in about five seconds flat? Someone could take the relic off them in a heartbeat! It doesn’t even need to be a main villain. Some stronger-than-average goons could manage it under the right circumstances and a bit of luck. Look at this bright, shiny thing we can sell for quick lien. No, I have to believe Ironwood has an ulterior motive here. As much as I want him to genuinely be what he presents himself as---the embodiment of our opening, “When we trust in love and open up our eyes”---a lot of this just doesn’t fit.

(Then again... it’s RWBY. And the writers are clearly still working with protagonist vision goggles. Maybe Ironwood really does think Ruby keeping the relic is the best option here. In which case he’s just a fool.)

All of which, notably, still keeps our group from tackling the core, ethical issue: why they want to fight Salem when they think it’s impossible. They’re ignoring that question by keeping the truth from Ironwood. The plot avoided them completing their mission by having them get the relic back. We’re just existing in perpetual limbo here.

Which finally brings me to Penny. The end of this episode has her leading the group on an exhausting tour of Atlas Academy, the exact sort of bubbly, silly, casual interaction we got with her in the early volumes. Last week when I pointed out how inappropriate everyone’s reactions were to finding out a friend is back from the dead, a lot of people commented that we’d get to the emotional stuff later. Or going so far as to claim that the group, Ruby in particular, is suffering from a delayed reaction. Except we didn’t see that. There’s a difference between a setup and a non-evidence based assumption that what we want to watch will eventually end up on screen. There was no setup for a delayed reaction. No Ruby holding back tears. Or a closeup on someone grappling with an emotion. Or someone else trying to say something before they were cut off by the sirens. All of those imply that an emotion exists but, since we don’t have the time or the inclination to deal with it now, we’ll come back to it later. That wasn’t the case last week. Every emotion was clear and complete, no variation in regards to the overall chill acceptance of Penny’s resurrection. Now, we’ve seen that trend continue. Ruby doesn’t stop in shock when Penny appears in the Academy hall. We’re given no indication that anyone is distracted by her while discussing business, in the way one might be when a friend and ally is unexpectedly back in your life. When she’s left alone with them, there’s nothing except the montage of exhausted tourism and Ruby’s demands to know where they’re sleeping. Basically, I think this is it. Sure, maybe later down the line---maybe even next week---Ruby will have a heart-to-heart with Penny, but by that point it’ll be too late to feel emotionally fulfilling. We’ve already seen their first meeting, a surprise encounter, doing business, and hanging out together, none of which acknowledges her status as a miracle. Hell, in this episode at least, no one even cares that she knows about relics and Maidens now. Penny has never been closer to the group, but she’s still being treated primarily as the comic relief.

As @valasania-the-pale pointed out to me, we also have the question of when Penny was rebuilt. Doesn’t anyone, at the very least Ruby, care that their friend was brought back and no one thought to tell them about it? Would Ironwood, Pietro, and Penny herself have just let them live with her death indefinitely? It’s a pretty messed up situation when you think about it. A fantastic setup in my opinion, but one that Rooster Teeth isn’t equipped to handle well. Like with so much of RWBY, there’s great potential and very little follow-through.

At least Watts and Tyrian were introduced appropriately. We got confirmation that Watts helped build the Atlas code and now controls it at his whim, causing crashes and powering down security cameras. It’s the perfect threat for a city almost entirely reliant on its technology. Even down to, as said, an ally like Penny who knows all these secrets. Hell, Winter’s comment about the group having access to Atlas’ best weaponry while they’re here is worrisome. What if their upgrades end up hackable as well?

Tyrian, meanwhile, is still Tyrian. That blood pool was a great shot in my opinion. Wonderful creep factor as he sets off into the city. “I suppose we all have our talents” indeed.

Obviously then, there’s a lot going on. A lot to cover and, on my end, continually dwindling hopes that RWBY will cover it well. I can’t be too excited about the group lying when we 100% bypassed their choices last volume. If the show isn’t willing to call them out on those mistakes, I doubt they’ll be willing to call them out on this one either. I’m preparing myself to watch precisely what we’re getting in the fandom right now: an insistence that Ruby is wonderful for keeping her secrets while further demonizing Ozpin for keeping his. Because that’s where we’ve been for the past fifteen episodes: perpetually insisting that everything the group does is, by default, heroic. Logic and hypocrisy aside.

But we’ll have to see.

Until next week 💜

Minor Things of Note

1. Please pay attention to precisely how many long, wide, and aerial shots we get throughout the episode. This is what happens when your main cast is made up of twelve people all working in the same place. Plus six more including Maria and the Ace-Ops. That’s far, far too many characters.

2. I really love how the Ace-Ops’ tail gives away how excited he is. That was adorable.

3. Despite my enjoyment at Ironwood’s obvious joy over seeing Ozpin... morally this is so fucked up for Oscar. He’s introduced by Qrow as, “the next Ozpin,” essentially undermining his identity as his own person (note how massively uncomfortable his body language is in this moment). Ironwood then immediately starts speaking to him as Ozpin, not at all interested in the kid he’s housed in. If he even understands that Oscar is a separate person. We should all keep in mind that just a few days ago Qrow told Oscar to stop thinking of himself as an individual. Ruby agreed with him via her silence. The whole group was happy-go-lucky when Oscar announced that he’s resigned himself to just disappearing someday. As happy as I am that someone actually acknowledged Ozpin’s existence and (gasp!) was happy to see him, Oscar is still getting the short straw in all this. The group really treats him like he’s some form of transportation and nothing more. Penny, our resident robot, has more agency than he does.

4. Maria is still just hanging out with Pietro, I guess? Does she care that the group got arrested? Is she trying to do anything about it? I’m half expecting a comedic moment where she barges in, prepared to break them out and take on all their captors... only to realize they never needed her help in the first place.

5. I like this shot of the relic, the first thing to be bathed in light when Ironwood’s presentation ends. Not convinced it means anything, but a cool perspective nonetheless.

6. Intrigued by this guy.

7. Love, love, love, love, love Watts’ purple outfit. I mean, I’m just a sucker for purple in general. So... yeah. There’s that.

#rwby #rwby volume 7 #rwby volume 7 spoilers #mymetas #rwby recaps

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ashtheshortstack · 4 years ago

Text

take my scars & make them stars - ch 1

Rating: M Ship: Kristoff/Anna Chapter One

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Sick Fic, Cancer Fic, Chronic Illness, Chemotherapy, Modern AU, Coffee Shop AU, Fluff and Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Angst with a happy ending, Mutual Pining, Mentions of Character Death

Read on Ao3

Previous Chapter/Next Chapter

Anna was aware of the changes coming her way. And there were many. It was rare to be diagnosed with breast cancer under the age of forty to begin with, let alone having to be treated for it in her twenties.

Of course, they had money. Elsa could afford to give Anna the highest quality care possible. She was lucky for that, she knew. And she was grateful for Dr. Mattias. He was really great, and she was glad that if this had to happen to her, this kind man was the one looking out for her. He told her she was his youngest breast cancer patient. Well, he’d remember her for something at least.

Dr. Mattias made the decision for surgery a bit easier.

Anna sighed, sitting in the chair as she fiddled with her thumbs. “You can’t tell me what to do?”

“I can’t exactly tell you what to do, no, since this is your body and you’re young. It’s ultimately up to you,” he explained as he leaned back against his own chair.

That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. She understood it wasn’t technically within his right to make this decision for her, but he needed to give her more advice.

“Dr. Mattias…” she began, “i-if I was your daughter, sister… e-even your mother, would you tell me to remove them?”

Pursing his lips, she could tell he was debating his answer. “Considering this is more on the aggressive side… if I had a family member in your position I would tell them to do it.”

That was it. That was her answer.

“Then we’re removing them.”

And so, the plan was set in motion. Chemotherapy would come after the breast removal. It was… terrifying to think about. Just how quickly her life could change. What her body was about to endure. She was afraid, sure. But… this could be the beginning of a new chapter.

Besides, Anna knew her breasts weren’t even that big. She wouldn’t look that much different without them. On the outside, at least. She could always buy a bra to stuff when she went out. Under her clothes would be much, much different. Still, she was unable to care. This was going to save her life. She didn’t think anyone else would be looking beneath her clothes ever again anyway.

Hans ruined that for her, she thought bitterly.

She’d never had a surgery before. Elsa and Gerda were both there by her side as she was wheeled away on the table. Anna gave a tiny wave with her fingers, giving them what she hoped was a reassuring smile to calm those worried gazes. Her nurses were nice enough. The surgery was supposed to take two to three hours then they’d stitch and bandage her up.

It was weird to think… she wouldn’t have nipples anymore. She giggled aloud at that, making the nurse give her a concerned look. Pursing her lips, Anna quickly shot her gaze to her lap. The pinch of the I.V. made her wince just a bit. It was something she’d have to get used to for chemo, she knew.

Dr. Mattias walked in the door, giving her a bright smile. “You ready?”

Nodding, she sighed. “As ready as I can be.”

“You’ll make it through this, Anna, you’re young and healthy.”

She laughed at that. “Besides the cancer, right?”

Dr. Mattias had gotten used to her horrible jokes to lighten the mood at that point. So, in response, he gave a throaty chuckle. “Yeah, besides that.”

“Thank you for checking in, Dr. Mattias.”

He smirked with a curt nod. “Anything for my favorite patient.”

“I’m sure you say that to all of your patients.”

Dr. Mattias hummed before heading towards the door. “Maybe, I do.”

It wasn’t long after he left the room that Anna felt her breathing slow. Her head lulled to the side, letting her body relax. She’d never experienced anesthesia before… but her limbs suddenly felt like lead, and she let her eyes droop closed. There were vague memories of nurses walking in and out of the room. She remembered hearing more commotion around her until everything finally fell silent. For the first time in forever… Anna felt at peace.

o~o~o~o

The weeks following her surgery were hellish, to say the least. She was sore with her skin black and blue. Elsa giving her sponge baths was more embarrassing than she’d like to admit. It was instinct to want to cover her chest before she’d remember—oh—there wasn’t anything there to cover. Draining the fluids from her incision, having Elsa help change her bandages, trying to get clean enough to not stink but not get her stitches wet.

She was so relieved when it was time for her follow-up. Anna was so ready to know. She wanted to know what she was going to look like the rest of her life. Elsa had questioned her about getting implants, but Anna just laughed. No way she was putting something synthetic in her body after dealing with this. There was no predicting how her body would react.

Dr. Mattias gave her the all clear to function as normal again. She could drive again, take showers again, even go swimming if she wanted to. Anna wasn’t quite sure if she was ready to figure out the whole… bathing suit situation yet.

“It looks like everything is healing up nicely, Anna. We’ll see you back here in a month to start chemotherapy,” he said as he made notes on a clipboard.

Anna had so many questions, but she just didn’t know how to ask them. “What…” her voice was weak, but loud enough that it caught her doctor’s attention. “What really happens with chemo?”

Sighing, Dr. Mattias dropped down to his chair, sitting eye level with her. “It really depends on the person. There’s a lot of side effects that could occur. Obviously, hair loss is usually a given. The rest could be really anything. Fatigue, bruising, numbness in limbs, loss of taste, short-term memory loss are side-effects I’ve seen in my patients.”

“So, chemo really sucks, huh?” she asked while forcing a weak smile.

“Yes, it really does.”

o~o~o~o

Elsa is there for her first round of chemo. Her sister sits in the chair beside her, taking her hand gently as they pinch the I.V. into Anna’s arm.

She can’t see Elsa’s face since it’s covered by a mask. It was still too dangerous for her sister to be exposed to any serious illnesses in the hospital, but there was a sympathetic glint in her crystal eyes. “Are you okay?”

Anna can’t help but stare at the drip as it drains slowly into her skin. Knocked out of her thoughts, she does a double take towards her sister. “What? Oh! Y-Yeah, I’m fine.”

“It’s okay to be afraid, Anna, I understand.”

She knew she did. Elsa went through turmoil herself growing up, despite how bitter it made Anna, she knew it wasn’t her sister’s fault. Elsa wasn’t responsible for her parents’ choices. Sometimes she worried Elsa felt guilty. But she made up for it being by her side during this battle. That’s what exactly Anna needed. Her only living family left being there for her, despite the risk of her own health just walking into a hospital… it meant a lot.

It was nice to have their relationship slowly building again. It was nice living Elsa and Gerda… that was home. Truly.

“Thank you, Elsa… for being here.”

Even though Anna couldn’t see her mouth, she could see the movement of her cheeks and the twinkle in Elsa’s eyes. “Of course. There’s nowhere I’d rather be than here for you.”

“I love you,” she told her. Truly and sincerely. Just these last two months of Elsa’s support meant everything to her. It was nice to finally have her sister back.

Elsa squeezed her fingers. “I love you, too, Anna.”

o~o~o~o

It was happening. Anna knew it would. Just… not so soon. She gaped down at her hairbrush, seeing the chunks of ginger hair matted into bristles. Quickly, she dropped the brush and gazed at the mirror. She threaded her fingers through her locks, gazing down at her hands in horror as whole handfuls of her hair covered her palms.

Heaving a breath, Anna grabbed the counter for leverage, feeling as though she could collapse any moment. She gave in, letting out a shrieking sob. Falling to her knees on the porcelain tiles, Anna wept. The hairbrush fell to the floor with a clatter. She curled into herself, hugging her torso tightly as hot tears streaked down her flushed cheeks.

“Anna?!” Elsa called before bursting into the door.

Sniffling, she wiped her nose on her sleeve, waving her sister off. “I-I’m fine.”

Her sister was on the ground next to her quickly, hands gripping her shoulders. “Hey, don’t lie to me what’s wron—” she saw it then. The hairbrush and the locks of hair scattered on the floor. “Oh, Anna…”

Elsa tugged Anna into her, winding her arms around her shoulders. The dam broke loose as Anna gripped her tightly in return. Cries echoed through the bathroom as she buried her face into her sister’s shoulder. There was a silence as Elsa rubbed soothing circles along Anna’s back. As her sobbing and sniffles eventually died down, Anna struggled to catch her breath.

Helping her to a stand, Elsa smoothed her hands over Anna’s upper arms. “It’s okay.”

“I-I just…” Anna took in a breath, finally calming herself enough to speak. “I just didn’t know it’d happen this fast.”

Her sister smiled. “You know what?” Elsa passed her before dipping down and opening their father’s old drawer, much to Anna’s confusion. She emerged with their father’s electric razor.

Gaping at her, Anna flicked her gaze between her sister’s grinning face and the razor. “Elsa, you’re not serious.”

“I’m dead serious. We’re taking your power back. Cancer may be making you lose your hair, well, screw it. You’re going to be bald on your own terms, not when cancer tells you.”

Anna let out a laugh of disbelief but smiled, nonetheless. “You’re crazy.”

Elsa simply cocked a brow, hitting the button and the shaver began buzzing.

Sighing, she caved. She pulled the stool out from the vanity and took a seat. “Okay, fine. But if we’re going bald, we’re doing the eyebrows too.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Tongue poking out between her lips, Elsa leaned over Anna’s head before pressing the razor lightly to her scalp and shaving a stripe down the middle of her hairline. Anna’s jaw dropped at the sight of a bald line going down the center of her head. Reaching up, she touched it, feeling the hairless skin.

“Oh my god.”

“Well, it’s done now. Might as well finish.”

“Elsa, oh my god.”

o~o~o~o

Anna had learned the “poor you” stare long ago. Any time Elsa went out in public with her gloves and mask, it was the look she got. Those over sympathetic stares of people wanting to say “aww, poor thing” but the words never come out. But then they realize they’re gawking and quickly turn away as if they hadn’t noticed at all.

But never had Anna had the “poor you” directed at her. She had made a point to still dress feminine… She was bald without boobs. It was all she had left, really. She made a point to wear frilly tops, short high waisted shorts, and hoop earrings. Things that screamed: “I’m a girl!!” Any beanie she wore was a bright pink. For breast cancer? Sure. But it was also her favorite color, so why not? It added to her overly girly assemble.

Thinking about how she hated Elsa having all the attention… boy, didn’t she wish Elsa was still getting the attention for wearing satin gloves in the grocery store. She’d given anything to blend in. Dr. Mattias had given her places to find reasonably priced wigs, but when Anna tried them on… it felt odd. They irritated her scalp, made her itch. She much preferred soft beanies to cover her pale head.

Elsa showed her different ways to apply makeup. It helped, Anna thought. Anything to make her feel more comfortable in this new body. In this new normal that she was steadily being forced to adjust to. It was weird to rub her eyes and lose a few eyelashes. It was weird not having to shave anything anymore. Her body that was once covered in fair ginger hair was suddenly bare, with only her freckled covered skin to vouch for her hair color.

Anna hadn’t meant to shelter away into their home. It just—happened. She had come to dread leaving the mansion just because of the looks. People pretended like they weren’t pitying her, weren’t staring at her. But she knew they were. It was okay. She understood. Seeing someone bald with no eyebrows or eyelashes? She kind of looked like an alien. Felt like one too…

She’d grown accustom to going to the hospital for chemo treatments, staying a few days, then heading back home. No pit stops. Nowhere needed to go in between. It wasn’t like she could go hang out at the coffee shop like she did when she was taking college courses. Besides, what if she ran into—him. That was the last thing she wanted. Letting that grimy man see her at her lowest would be mortifying. Especially since she’d come to feel better after group therapy at the hospital. Hans hadn’t traumatized her, by any means. Anna was mostly pissed off at herself for staying with the jerkwad so long… but she wasn’t going to dwell on him!

Besides, coffee was off the menu. Doc said it caffeine was a no go. She had to stick to the healthy meal-plan they’d given her. A healthy diet meant a healthier body to fight whatever cancer and chemo both would try to do to her.

But apparently, Elsa was growing tired of her hermit activities. She was one to talk! She never went anywhere!

Anna was curled on the couch, a book her hands as she noticed Elsa coming down the curved staircase dressed in a casual but cute summer assemble. Eyeing her sister, she squinted. “Elsa? Why are you dressed like that?”

Elsa wasn’t one to wear shorts, by any means. Unless she was going somewhere. Her sister tended to lounge around their home in leggings or gowns.

“We’re going to the coffee shop.”

Smacking her book closed (she forgot to save her place!), she shook her head. “Oh ho, ho, no. I’m not. What if I see some old classmates? I can’t even get any coffee.”

“Okay, but will one chocolate chip muffin kill you?”

Anna blinked. “Um, yes. Quite possibly, Elsa.”

“I won’t tell Dr. Mattias if you don’t.”

She glowered at her. “I can’t lie to my doctor. That’d be stupid. I know it may not be that big of a deal, b-but… can you imagine? He’ll hit me with that ‘disappointed dad’ look so quick!”

Elsa came over, taking her book from her hand. “Dr. Mattias said to be careful, but he wants you to live your life, Anna. Isn’t that why you came back home to begin with? To get away from the toxicity so you could live happily?”

“Yes,” she muttered under her breath. She hated it when Elsa was right.

“Look, sis, if anyone knows about not living a life, it’s me. But you’ve inspired me to stop being afraid of living. In fact, I’m going out without a mask today.”

“But still the gloves?”

“I’ll breathe the air, but I’m not touching people.”

Anna laughed at that. She sighed with a bob of her head. “Okay, fine. I’ll go with you. Let me get ready to go.”

“Do you want false lashes today? I bought extras.”

She paused on the steps, pursing her lips to think about it. “You know what? I will today. If I’m going out and could possibly see people I know, I may as well look hot doing it.”

Elsa beamed. “That’s the spirit.”

o~o~o~o

Ah, yes. There it was. The stare. Many patrons of the store flicked glances in Anna’s direction. She just chose to ignore them. Elsa ordered for them, much to Anna’s delight, and brought back a chocolate chip muffin to the table with her.

Anna groaned. “Elsa, I told you not to.”

“It’s one muffin, Anna. I’ll take the heat at your next appointment, okay?”

“Fine,” she huffed. She couldn’t argue too much. Anna really did want to eat the muffin. She took the paper wrapping off, glancing around. She tried to ignore the unwanted audience. It was fine. She was fine. But when Anna took a bite and chewed, she grimaced and sat the muffin back on the wrapper.

“Anna? You alright?”

Swallowing, she forced a smile. She couldn’t taste it. The sweetness on her palette was dulled, despite how she desperately longed for her taste buds to cooperate. It sucked. Not to mention the ache from the ulcers that were developing along her gums.

Anna hadn’t confessed to her sister about how much it sucked to eat. She’d casually been eating ramen, mashed potatoes, and soups without her sister noticing. Gerda had noticed, she was sure. Since Anna would take whatever Gerda and pick at the food, and her former guardian started making much softer foods. Even offering Anna jello or pudding in the middle of the night.

Trying another bite, Anna pretended to enjoy it and not express her frustration to her sister.

Elsa kept glancing past Anna’s shoulder, and she grew more and more annoyed with her sister’s gaze flickering away. Finally, she caved. “Elsa, what are you looking at?”

“The barista. He’s checking you out, I swear.”

Anna rolled her eyes. “He’s looking at me because I’m clearly a cancer patient, Elsa.”

“No, seriously, Anna. I know the pity look and that’s not the look he’s giving you.”

Scoffing, she set her muffin down. “Watch, as soon as I look at him he’s going to look guilty and hide.”

And Anna did just that. She flung herself around in her chair. There was no line at the register at that moment, so she had a clear look at him. He was a bulky guy. Not one that’d be expected to be making coffee. He was tall, blonde… and maybe kinda cute. Not that she’d admit it aloud. His golden-brown gaze met hers. He seemed surprised that she’d spun in her seat so quickly, but he didn’t break the eye contact. The guy just… smiled at her. Then turned his attention to the countertop he was apparently supposed to be wiping.

Anna gaped, turning back in her seat, sucking in her bottom lip as she felt her cheeks heat. “H-He just…”

“He smiled at you.”

“What does that mean?” she hissed quietly.

“Go talk to him.”

“What?”

Elsa slipped her the credit card across the table. “I want another s’mores latte to take home, pretty please.”

“Someone in your condition shouldn’t drink this much coffee.”

Her sister waved a palm. “Coffee has nothing to do with respiratory problems.”

Anna squinted at her. “Uh huh. If I humiliate myself, you’re fully to blame.”

“I’m willing to take the heat.”

Sucking in a breath, she stood from her seat, making her way over to the counter. She stole a glance back at Elsa, who gave her a cheeky, apologetic wave. Anna didn’t think her sister actually felt guilty at all. She stood patiently since the blonde hadn’t seen her approach. He glanced up, noticing her, his hand slipping off the counter with the wipe.

He recovered quickly, standing up straight and clearly his throat. “Uh, hi. I-I mean… What can I get you?’

“A 12-ounce s’mores latte, please?” she asked.

He nodded. “Name?”

“Elsa.”

Nodding again, he picked up the cup, fumbling with it a moment before catching it in his hand. “Right,” he sputtered out before fleeing towards the machine. Anna watched him from the counter. He seemed to be giving himself a little pep-talk while working.

What a cute dork, she mused.

He came back, coffee in hand as she extended the card to him. Her breath hitched when his hand brushed hers. His hands were huge. She was amazed at how tiny she looked in comparison.

As he worked the register, he cleared his throat. “E-Excuse my prying, I may be completely out of line here. B-But someone in your—condition shouldn’t have coffee, should they?”

Lips parting in surprise, Anna couldn’t hide how stunned she was. It shocked her to have a total stranger ask her about her health. She couldn’t even find it in herself to be offended. It was simply elating to have someone ask and not stare.

He seemed ready to backpedal when she finally got the nerve to answer. “I-It’s not for me. It’s for my sister, Elsa.”

“Oh!” he nodded frantically as he handed the card back to her, not touching her this time. Anna didn’t want to admit she was a bit disappointed. “Right, that would—that would make sense, yes. So—So… if you’re not Elsa… what’s your name?”

Anna cracked a smile. “It’s Anna.”

“Nice to meet you, Anna,” he said quietly

She glanced at his name tag. “You too, Christopher.”

His brows furrowed then he glanced down at his name tag. “Oh! Oh, right. Yeah. It’s Kristoff, actually. My boss—well, there was a misprint.”

He was charming in his own awkward, cute way wasn’t he? Anna chose to ignore the way her heart fluttered hopelessly in her chest. She gave him a nod and a smile. “Well, then… nice to meet you too, Kristoff.”

Kristoff’s lips twitched into a smirk. “Y-Yeah.”

“See you around,” she added before retreating towards the table.

Elsa was grinning, far too proud of herself when Anna reached the table. Sliding her sister her coffee, Anna buried her face her palms.

“Anna, you did great,” she cooed.

She shook her head.

“Oh, stop being dramatic. He’s so into you.”

Anna glanced back over her shoulder at Kristoff, who was now serving a group of customers that had arrived. “No way. There’s no way,” she said and turned back to her sister. “There’s no way a guy that cute would like a bald girl with no boobs.”

“So, you admit you think he’s cute?”

Standing, her chair squeaked as it slid from the table. “I think it’s time to go, Elsa.”

Elsa gave a knowing tilt of her head, quirking her brow. She took the credit card from Anna, slipping it into her purse and pulling the bag over her shoulder. Elsa took her time picking up her coffee from the table, making Anna sigh in annoyance. She knew sure as hell that her sister was taking her sweet time on purpose.

As they headed out the door, Anna chanced one last glance at Kristoff. He waved. And she couldn’t help it… and gave a tiny wave of her fingers in return.

#kristanna #kristoff x anna #the queen & her reindeer king #ash writes #frozen fic #anna x kristoff #kristanna fic #tw: cancer #tw: character death #cancer fic #angst #hurt/comfort #mentions of chemotherapy #tms&mts #take my scars & make them stars

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cassercole · 5 years ago

Text

the one with the band

SHIP: PROCTOR-ROGERS FAMILY FEELS RATING: TEEN WORD COUNT: 2,943 PROMPT: Just a fun little prompt with Steve and Tristan -- his younger son! TAGGING: (permanent tag list): @whindsor @hrhatbat @fraysquake @sgtbuckyybarnes @elenacarinandherfandoms @chuck-hansens @luucypevensie @mystic-scripture @perfectlystiles @allaboutocs @anotherunreadblog @witchofinterest @hvproductions @heirsoflilith (WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?)

Steve was well aware of how his teenage son was sneaking out at night. And it wasn’t even late at night sneak outs that he had assumed he would have to deal with, no. Tristan would leave after dinner with no word as to where he was going or when he would back. And right through the front door -- not even through a window like the countless movies and tv shows had prepared Steve for.

The first couple of times, he let it slide, thinking his son had at least told his mother where he was going. But when he mentioned it to Q, she told him she had no idea where Tristan was going.

“Why does it matter? He’s back before curfew.” she shrugged while she finished loading the dishwasher with the plates from their earlier dinner.

“Yeah and when did you get back from your teenage antics when you were his age?” he asked, leaning one hand on the counter.

“Before curfew so my parents wouldn’t suspect anything, then I would sneak back out after --” she cut herself off, staring at the open dishwasher for a moment as her words caught up to her. He gave her a pointed look, waiting for the realization to hit, “Oh goddamnit.” she sighed heavily, closing the dishwasher rather dejectedly and then meeting Steve’s look, “We should’ve just stopped with Bonnie. We didn’t realize how lucky we were, not having a kid like me.” she sighed. Steve rolled his eyes at her dramatics, knowing she was just fishing for a compliment but not focused enough to give her one.

“I’m gonna see where he’s going.” he told her, pushing off the counter to go get his hoodie from the chair at the table.

“I want to tell you to not to, but if he’s anything like me, he’s probably in a liquor store putting alcohol into his purse.” she sighed again, annoyed that those genes out of everything were the ones that were passed on. Steve gave a dry laugh as he zipped up his hoodie,

“Or in the city, pit-pocketing some rich Wall Street guy.” he added, reminding her of another thing she used to do in her youth.

“Or plotting a break in to a highly secure government facility, then being found with a dead body and a literal smoking gun.” she continued, making Steve pause and look over at her, “Too soon?” she grimaced, knowing it wasn’t. He shook his head, moving over to give her a quick kiss goodbye.

“I’m sure it’s nothing more than a study group.” he tried to calm both of them down with something rational that their son could be doing. She scoffed at his comment, knowing that wasn’t true.

“If only.” she sighed again, giving him another kiss before he turned to leave.

As with most things in his life, modern technology had made finding Tristan much easier than it would’ve been years earlier. While he did feel a little bad about tracking his son, the fatherly instinct to make sure he was okay outweighed the guilt. Except it only returned when he figured out where exactly Tristan had been going.

The coffee shop in the small town was dimly lit, but plenty crowded as Steve opened the door. Curious to see what was going on, he looked over the sea of people who were all looking in the same direction. Up toward the front of the shop a band was taking their places, all of varying heights and styles, armed with different instruments. It was easy enough to spot Tristan standing to the left of center stage; with his lanky, tall frame and the wild dark curls he had earned from his mother. Surprisingly, he had some sort of electric bass slung over his shoulders and was pretty expertly picking at chords while the rest of the band warmed up.

“Hey, hi,” one of the other members of the band stepped forward to the mic and quieted the crowd, “Hey, we’re Blanket Statement and we’re gonna get started with a couple of covers first and then play you guys some new stuff that our bassist, Tristan, wrote.” the front woman explained the show. Surprise seemed to be the theme of that evening as Steve learned that Tristan was not only able to play the bass, but also in a band. One that had a seemingly large fanbase for the small town they lived in, and was talented enough that he even wrote some songs. He stayed where he was as the band started to play the first of the few covers they had prepared -- two songs he had heard before, a long time before when he lived in DC with Q, and was pleasantly surprised at how good they sounded. The Tame Impala cover the girl sang seemed to be the one people looked forward to the most, and the one Tristan seemed to be having the most fun playing. (Of course it was one of Q’s favorite songs so Steve wasn’t surprised by that).

Then came the songs Tristan had apparently written. Steve waited with bated breath, not knowing exactly how they would sound. It wasn’t like he or Q had any sort of creative writing bone in their bodies. Sure, sometimes Steve would try writing poetry now and then, but it wasn’t one he fostered like his art skills. But musical ones? Nothing. Nada. He remembered seeing a guitar in Q’s apartment in DC however long ago, but it had a thin layer of dust on it like she never ever picked it up. Though, as on theme with the night, he was pleasantly surprised and rather impressed at the songs his kid created. And couldn’t help but grin to himself as Tristan leaned close to his microphone to sing backup with the lead singer.

Of course Steve would be proud of his kids no matter what, but watching his son share his talents and musical gifts and actually look like he was having fun for once in his life ignited a bright flame of pride behind Steve’s sternum. Seeing Tristan pluck at the bass and groove to the beat he was creating was something he never could’ve imagined happening in a hundred years, but he suddenly couldn’t imagine Tristan doing anything else. It was perfect for him.

Not wanting to be caught, Steve ducked out before the show finished. He made his way home where Q was waiting up for him in their bed. He found her reading some sort of trashy romance novel that would do nothing but give her ideas (ones he would be happy to participate in), but when he walked into the room, she marked her page and pushed her reading glasses up to the top of her head,

“You find him?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Mhm.” Steve nodded, wanting to tease her a bit as he shrugged out of his hoodie and then pulled his shirt over his head, “Guess where.” her eyes widened a bit at his tone and she pushed the covers off of herself,

“Noooo, don’t tell me he was dropping balloons filled with colored powder off the roof of a building at pedestrians.” she groaned a bit, making him laugh.

“Nope.” he crawled onto the bed on all fours, “He wasn’t doing anything illegal.” he assured her, flopping down onto his back so his head hit the pillow, “He was at that little coffee shop on Wyndmoor.” he gestured vaguely to the direction of the coffee shop, moving on once Q nodded, “Playing bass. In his band.” he stressed, raising his eyebrows up and watching his wife’s face for her reaction. Her eyes widened at the word, then her mouth opened a bit at the imagery, then she pulled the corners of her mouth down -- nodding a bit as she thought it over,

“I can see it.” she commented and Steve laughed a bit, “Were they any good?”

“Really good.” he admitted, shifting on his pillow so he was a bit more comfortable and still able to make eye contact with his wife, “They covered that Tame Impala song you like,” she gasped a little at the mention, “and he even wrote a few songs himself. Hopeless romantic stuff, you know.” she awh’ed at the theme of their son’s songs, nudging her husband a bit,

“He gets that from you, you know.” he scoffed, rolling his eyes, but knowing she was right. She grinned at him, leaning over to give him a quick kiss.

“Think he’ll ever let us come see him play?” she asked, almost hopefully. The pair looked at each other, letting a moment pass before both of them burst into laughter at Q’s ridiculous question. Their son would never let them come watch; they’d ruin his ‘cool factor.’

Still, that didn’t stop Steve from at least sneaking into Tristan’s shows. He enacted the undercover protocol that kept him safe for the year or two that he was an enemy of the government but still wanted to see his wife: dressed in dark clothes, hood or hat always on and pulled over so enough of his face was covered, and he didn’t talk to anyone. He was able to just stand in the back of whatever coffeehouse or underground bar they were in and listen to his son play his songs.

Though his cover didn’t keep for long. One night, he had gotten there too early, which meant Tristan spotted him. He watched his son do a double take and then the easy smile slid off his face, replaced by the stoic -- almost annoyed, expression he usually received from his youngest. God, sometimes he reminded Steve so much of Dawson, it hurt his heart a bit. They would’ve gotten along so well.

“What are you doing here?” Tristan asked once they were close enough to talk and not cause a scene. His eyes flicked around like he was afraid someone was going to see them, “Is Mom here too?”

“No, no, it’s just me. We found out you were in a band and I just...I wanted to come see you play.” Tristan’s eyes returned to his, looking doubtful but still annoyed.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” he scuffed the toe of his Converse against the ground and Steve chuckled,

“No, actually I don’t.” he admitted and Tristan scoffed, glancing away from him, “It’s a nice way to spend a little quality time with you.” he added. They didn’t do much together as it was; Tristan didn’t like baseball or running like Bonnie did. Steve had a hard time finding something they could do as a father-son duo. If this was as close as he was going to get, he wasn’t going to let it pass him by.

“What if all our songs are about how much we hate our parents?” he eyed him skeptically, testing him.

“Then you would’ve told us about this much sooner.” Steve volleyed back with a small gesture to the stage. Tristan rolled his eyes, but fell quiet for a moment,

“No, Dad, this isn’t cool. This is my thing, okay? I-I don’t want you here,” he raised his shoulders up while Steve tried to ignore the flash of hurt at his words, “I mean if someone recognizes you…” he trailed off, only semi-voicing his insecurities, but it was enough to let Steve understand.

“I’m not trying to steal your spotlight.” he assured his son. He wasn’t even sure if anyone would really know who he was anymore. The world had moved on. There were bigger and better heroes around. He was just content to tend to his garden and go to his kid’s mini-concerts as a random middle-age (or older) dad. “I just wanted to see you play. Or hear you. Or whatever.” he got an eye roll from Tristan, who then shoved his hands into his pockets. He let his kid mull over what he said for a moment. The teen shook his head, letting his wild, dark curls flop around, then heaved a heavy sigh,

“Fine, whatever, but the moment someone asks to take a picture with you --” he pointed a finger at Steve, who raised his hands up in the air, “that’s it, Dad. Seriously. Just stand there. Don’t move. Don’t talk. Just watch.”

“Deal.” Steve agreed to the terms, hoping this coffee shop was dim enough where that wouldn’t be a problem. Tristan eyed him for a moment longer before walking away to rejoin his band.

As much as it killed Steve not to cheer along with the crowd, he tried as hard as he could to respect the rules Tristan put into place. If only because he didn’t want to miss one of the shows. Just like he hadn’t missed one of Bonnie’s track meets or the weird improv shows she did with her community group.

Though he ended up breaking one of the rules by accident after one of the shows Tristan played. While waiting for Tristan to finish up his mingling with people who stayed after the show (Steve was now driving him to the sets), he saw his son talking with a rather pretty girl. His immediate reaction was to take a picture to show his wife later, but as much as technology had improved his life -- it also made it a lot worse. The constant updates had his settings all out of whack which meant when he tried to take a sneaky picture, the flash immediately went off. And he was caught.

Having enough time spent in the field, Steve knew how to quickly exit a bad situation. He exited the coffee shop and headed toward his car, hoping that Tristan hadn’t realized what he had done. But a sharp, loud, “What the fuck, Dad?!” coming from behind him in his son’s angry tone proved him wrong.

Steve froze, then winced, knowing he had messed up and now had to deal with an angry teenager. Really, he’d rather deal with Bruce’s other persona. Much easier to talk to than a hormonal, angry teenager who already disliked him as a base feeling.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I was just trying to commemorate a moment.” he held his hands up in defense, but Tristan ignored the look of innocence.

“Fucking bullshit, Dad.” he snapped out, “You just did the creepiest thing ever. This is why I didn’t want you to come to these!” he gestured back to the coffee shop and again, Steve felt his heart sink a bit at not being wanted by his son. All he wanted to do was support him.

“Plenty of people were taking pictures, Twist.” he used the nickname he used to use when Tristan was a kid, “I was the only one who had the flash on.” he admitted his mistake, making Tristan groan. He fell back on one foot, twisting his torso away from Steve a bit as he looked up to the night sky,

“God! Dad! This is unreal! You can’t just be, like, a normal dad?!” he gestured frustratedly at his father. Steve made a face, tilting his head to the side a bit,

“I feel like this was a very normal dad thing to do.” he pointed out and Tristan groaned again, shoving his hands through his curls,

“This is so fucking embarrassing.” he muttered under his breath. He turned away from him, heading back to the coffee shop.

“At least let me take you home.” Steve offered, but Tristan didn’t even pause,

“I’ll get a ride!” he called out from over his shoulder. Steve opened his mouth to try and convince Tristan to change his mind, but Tristan spun around on one foot, spreading his arms out wide as he continued, “I think we’ve had enough quality time tonight, Dad.” he shoved the knife a little deeper into Steve’s chest.

After getting home and being made fun of by his wife for not knowing how technology worked, Steve waited up until Tristan got home just to apologize to him again.

“Dad, it’s fine, okay? Just let it go.” Tristan disregarded his apology, heading for the stairs as Steve followed,

“So when’s your next show?” he asked, trying to be casual but Tristan shrugged, not giving him an answer, “Can I come?” he asked with a slight eyebrow raise.

“Fuck no.” Tristan scoffed out, “Not after tonight.”

“Twist, come on.” Steve put his hand on the railing and the other went to rest on his hip, “I just want to see you play.”

“Why?” he asked, turning on the stairs to look down at his dad, “Why is this so important to you?” he raised his shoulders up, looking rather angry and annoyed by his dad taking an interest in his activities.

“Because I like...seeing you excel at stuff.” Steve answered, apparently giving a wrong answer by the way Tristan glared at him,

“Oh, so I’ve just failed at everything else then?”

“No, Trist--no, Jesus. I mean, it’s great to see you doing something that you’re good at and that you love.” His son eyed him warily for a moment, fiddling with the edges of his flannel as he turned over what Steve said, then nodded slowly.

“Alright, yeah, okay.” he turned away from his dad, heading back up the stairs to his room.

“So can I come to another show?” he tried again, more hopeful this time. “Won’t even look in your direction, promise.” he added on to entice him.

“Ugh, fine, whatever.” Tristan agreed, sounding annoyed, but he agreed. And Steve was going to go to every show he could.

#ocappreciation #allaboutocs #**#**writings #queve fam feels #tristan rogers #i kno the gif sucks ok #but i love them #so

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artificialqueens · 6 years ago

Text

Tough Girl (Crameron) - Miss Bianca

Summary: Once she was perched on a stool, it took only moments for Kameron to realize that scoping out the place for a girl to take home would be hopeless. Not because there was any shortage of pretty ones, but because of a certain petite blonde woman who was standing behind the bar.

A/N: I’m back. Don’t know if anyone reading these days remembers me, since it’s been a few months, but bitch, I'm back. There’s a lot of s10 ships I’d potentially like to write, but crameron is at the top of my list, so here’s a long ass oneshot ft. witty dialogue, smut, and one hell of a plot twist. This will also be posted on ao3 (MissBianca), and please, for the love of god, tell me what you thought, either here or in my messages or asks (@mizkameron)!

“We’re getting too old for this bar hopping thing, you know.”

Asia reacted to Kameron’s statement with a shrug and a grin, hopping out of the front seat of the Uber and pulling open the back door.

“Speak for yourself,” she said, holding out a hand to help Kameron out of the car.

“‘M not too old for it,” Aquaria added, climbing out behind them on unsteady legs.

“She wasn’t talking to you, sweetie,” Asia laughed, wrapping an arm around Aquaria’s waist and squeezing her. “Also, you’re not having anything else to drink tonight.”

“Okay,” Aquaria said agreeably, her face scrunching into a smile as Asia kissed her cheek.

“Thirty-five isn’t anywhere near old in my book,” Asia said, looking over at Kameron. “And you’re younger than me! You know I can’t let you be a homebody until you’re at least fifty, Kameron.”

Kameron let out a sigh, smiling despite herself as Asia looped her free arm through hers and dragged the trio towards the third - and hopefully final - bar of the night.

Inside, it was hot and crowded, and Kameron regretted the decision to wear jeans the moment she stepped inside. Before she could even begin to get her bearings, Asia had vanished into a cluster of strangers with Aquaria trailing close behind her.

The bar was dimly lit and absolutely buzzing, music playing from speakers at the back and the rush of voices from all sides nearly drowning it out. Kameron wondered briefly where exactly the dividing line fell between bars and clubs, suddenly very aware that she was far too sober right now for this particular, club-like atmosphere.

Heaving a sigh, Kameron did her best to pull herself together, and made a beeline for the wall of drinks near the back, as had become routine for her whenever they went out. The scent of beer was strong, and the throngs of people that she passed were practically vibrating, the drunken excitement pressing in on Kameron from all sides and making her recede deeper into herself.

As much as she loved Asia, it took a good bit of alcohol and a lot of adrenaline for Kameron to feel like putting herself through her friend’s level of social interaction. Even though she’d had a few drinks already, they’d been spread out over several hours, and she didn’t think she was in the mood to push herself tonight.

If she was lucky, maybe Aquaria would join her at the bar after Asia tired her out, but it wasn’t likely. Kameron was always a bit of a third wheel with them, the odd one out. Despite Aquaria being the youngest by far, she was also one of Asia’s favorite people on the planet, which left Kameron fading into the background.

Regardless, going solo didn’t bother Kameron most of the time. Her solitude could be easily disguised as intentionally going out on her own, and her tendency to sit stoically at bars by herself, observing the people around her, made her come off as confident and interested in meeting new people. And in this particular case, her plans for her night centered on leaving with someone new - and not with her friends.

She only hoped that this bar wasn’t as straight as it looked.

Once she was perched on a stool, it took only moments for Kameron to realize that scoping out the place for a girl to take home would be hopeless. Not because there was any shortage of pretty ones, but because of a certain petite blonde woman standing behind the bar.

She was wearing a white tank top, and her hair was thick and bleached blonde, hovering around her face in curls that were just starting to get frizzy. Unlike most of the women Kameron had met who worked at restaurants or behind bars, she wasn’t bothering to smile at customers, her red lips remaining in a straight line as she took orders and mixed drinks.

She was definitely pretty, but it was something else about her, something about the way that she moved and stood, that had Kameron absolutely captivated.

“Miss? Can I get you something?”

Kameron jumped a little, turning to see another bartender, a black woman with a narrow face, looking at her inquisitively.

“I’m sorry, yes,” Kameron said, smiling distractedly. “Can I have a rum and coke, please?”

“Sure.”

As the woman started to busy herself with the drinks, Kameron’s gaze returned to the other bartender, who was wiping the counter at the other end of the bar. Now that the blonde was farther away, Kameron could see the tight leather skirt that she was wearing, and she wet her lips.

“You eyeing my girl?” A drink had been set down in front of Kameron, and the black bartender was raising an eyebrow.

“Your girl?” Kameron asked blankly, blinking at her. “Are you two -”

“Nah, I’m just messing with you,” the bartender said with a laugh. “She’s a friend.”

“Oh.” Kameron took a sip of her drink, relieved but unsure what to say.

“Her name’s Brianna, if you’re interested,” the bartender added, a mischievous smile on her face. “I know her pretty well, and you look like her type.”

Surprised, Kameron took a moment too long to stammer out a thank you, the bartender disappearing through a door behind the bar before catching her words.

She kept her eyes on the blonde woman - Brianna, the other bartender had said - watching her mix drink after drink, cracking an occasional joke which Kameron could never catch, always resulting in uproarious laughter from whoever she was serving. Her hands moved so quickly, so surely, and Kameron found herself chewing on her lower lip as she watched.

Eventually, Kameron began to realize that taking the stool at the end of the bar might have been a mistake. It had been nearly a half hour now, and Brianna still hadn’t even looked her way. She didn’t want to get drunk, particularly, but the boredom was kicking in, and she found herself taking longer sips of her cocktail, just for something to do. With her tolerance, it was unlikely she’d get past mildly tipsy.

After another ten minutes or so, the inevitable straight guy wandered up to the bar to start hitting on her, starting with a canned comment about how lonely she looked all by herself, followed up by a long pause as he stared at her ample cleavage through the laced up front of her v-neck shirt. It was like clockwork, how all of them behaved almost identically, and Kameron observed with a vague sense of amusement, feeling almost as if she was watching the whole interaction from somewhere outside of her body.

“Lemme buy you a drink, sweetheart.”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“What sexy thing like you wants to drink alone?”

“I said, I’m fine.”

“C’mon, don’t be like that.”

He stepped closer, just as Kameron expected. Sighing, she flicked her hair off of her shoulder, sliding the strap of her shirt down over her shoulder to give him a good view of the lesbian symbol tattooed just under her collarbone.

“Take a hint, asshole,” she said flatly, tapping it with a fingertip.

“Hey, maybe you just haven’t met the right guy yet.”

“If you’re really that desperate, I’ve got a friend named Boomer who’d love your number,” Kameron said with a shrug, skipping the bullshit and pulling out the final weapon in her arsenal to finish off the conversation for good. “You’re just his type. He loves the short, pretty ones.”

“I’m not gay!” The offense on his face was so dramatic that it was hard to keep a straight face, and Kameron pulled the strap of her shirt back into place and shrugged.

“Maybe you just haven’t met the right guy yet.”

Kameron turned her attention back to Brianna as he fumbled for words, finally muttering out some comment about how he wasn’t short or pretty, either, before melting back into the crowd.

Rolling her eyes, Kameron tapped her fingers on the cool side of her glass, watching as Brianna talked to the other bartender and wishing that she was close enough to get her attention without seeming desperate. It had to be after 1 AM by now, and the noise and crowded environment of the bar were rapidly draining what energy she had left.

There was a burst of laughter, and Kameron glanced up just in time to see Brianna plant a kiss on the other bartender’s cheek and leave through the door behind the bar, a purse slung over her shoulder. Making a split second decision, Kameron downed the rest of her drink quickly, then dug in her clutch for a ten dollar bill and placed it neatly under her empty glass.

Sliding off her stool, she made her way around the clusters of people as fast as she could, pushing out into the hot August air. As soon as she stepped outside onto the mostly-empty street, Kameron released a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. She looked around for a back door, trying to figure out where Brianna might’ve left from.

Spotting an alley that ran alongside the building, Kameron headed in that direction, hoping that luck was on her side tonight. Resting a hand against the brick wall, she peered around the corner, and sure enough, Brianna was slipping out a door not too far away.

Glancing upwards, Kameron debated whether to walk down to meet her or wait on the corner. Staying put was probably the best idea, she figured, and it fit with the relaxed, collected vibe she liked to give off.

When she looked around the corner again, her stomach dropped.

Brianna was against the wall, a man that must’ve been a foot taller than her holding something that looked like a knife to her throat.

Kameron’s adrenaline kicked in instantly, her heartbeat skyrocketing, and she was running down the alley before she could even consider her options.

“Hey!” she shouted, breathless.

The man looked over at her just as she collided with him hands first, pushing him off of Brianna and hearing the knife clatter against the pavement.

“Fucking bitch!” The man swayed, clearly inebriated, and Kameron turned towards Brianna, resting a hand on her arm.

“Are you okay?”

Brianna opened her mouth to reply, and then a hand grabbed Kameron’s shoulder, pulling her away from Brianna.

“Stay outta my way!” the man slurred, winding his arm back.

Time slowed down, just for a second, and Kameron could see his fist moving towards her face. She leaned to the side at the last minute, trying to dodge the blow on instinct, and then a white-hot flash of pain cut through her cheek, and she saw stars.

Kameron stumbled, her shoulder colliding with brick, hand clasped to her cheek. There was another shout from the man, and she blinked away the tears that were clouding her vision.

Brianna’s hair bounced, and Kameron watched, dazed and disoriented, as the blonde’s fist collided with his gut, an upwards angle that made him grown hollowly and stagger. She threw her weight against him, shoulder hitting him squarely in the middle of the chest, and he fell backwards, crashing down onto the blacktop. He let out another groan, and then fell still.

Kameron stared, open mouthed, trying to process what she was seeing and unable to put the pieces together.

“Are you okay?” Brianna was making her way over, rubbing her knuckles, a concerned expression on her face.

Reaching up, she laid her hand over Kameron’s that was still pressed to her cheek. Brianna’s teeth dug into her lower lip as she lifted their hands away for a brief moment, surveying the injury. The pain had subsided inexplicably, and Kameron noticed for the first time that her own palm was slippery.

“He must’ve had a ring,” Brianna mused. Her eyes were big, a dark brown that Kameron hadn’t identified in the bar. “It’s more a cut than a bruise, doesn’t look too bad. Keep the pressure on it.”

“You’re pretty,” Kameron murmured, accidentally speaking her thoughts out loud.

Brianna stared up at her for a moment, a bemused smile slowly growing on her face.

“All right, let’s get you cleaned up,” she said decisively, pulling Kameron up off the wall and leading her towards the main street by her arm. “What’s your name?”

“Where are we going?” Kameron asked, feeling slow and stupid.

“My place,” Brianna said. “You’re not dizzy, are you? Can you walk without me holding you?”

Kameron thought about that for a moment, shaking her head to clear it, and then nodded.

“Yes, what?”

“I’m okay,” she confirmed. “Oh, and, Kameron - my name is Kameron.”

“Good, no concussion. I’m Brianna. My Uber will be here soon, so hang tight, babe.”

Babe. Kameron smiled.

The Uber ride was short, and they both sat in the back, Brianna keeping a slightly concerned eye on her. The cut was hurting again, but Kameron was distracted enough by Brianna’s close proximity to her that she wasn’t paying much attention.

When the car turned a corner, Brianna wound up leaning against her, one hand resting on Kameron’s thigh for support, and Kameron noticed for the first time that she was wearing perfume. After a few moments, she identified the scent as vanilla, strong enough to cover the stench of beer that would likely be clinging to her otherwise. Breathing Brianna in was calming and exciting at the same time, and Kameron could’ve sat like that with her forever, warmth spreading through her chest and a slight smile on her face.

By the time they’d arrived and climbed the four flights to Brianna’s apartment, Kameron felt much steadier on her feet, and she started struggling to wrap her brain around the series of events that had lead her to this point.

“What - what happened, exactly?” Kameron asked, hoping for clarification, as Brianna unlocked the door.

“You must’ve spotted me as soon as I stepped out the door,” Brianna said, directing Kameron inside. “And so did he, the big guy. He’d just pushed me against the wall - I think he was going for my purse - and then you came out of nowhere. Rammed into him like a runaway train.”

“Yeah, I remember that. I asked if you were okay.”

“Right, very sweet.” Kameron smiled at the comment, and Brianna continued. “He grabbed you, wheeled you back around, and went in for a punch. You dodged, I guess, because he only managed to graze that pretty cheek of yours.”

“I tried,” Kameron nodded. “But what happened after that is what I’m not, uh… not sure of.”

“Well, as heroic as it was of you to try to save me, I have a black belt in karate,” Brianna said, a note of affectionate sarcasm in her tone. “Did ya really think I’d be dressed like this in that area of town if I couldn’t defend myself?”

“I mean, I guess not,” Kameron said after a moment, looking down. A mixture of realization and embarrassment surged through her, and she cleared her throat. “You were… clearly very capable. I was actually trying to figure out if I imagined it all.”

“Nope.” Brianna shook her head. “He looked like was going to come at you again, so I did what I could. You know, took down the bad guy, saved the pretty girl. Everyday stuff in the life of your average bartender.”

Kameron laughed quietly at that, suddenly glad that her hand was still pressed to the cut. Hopefully, Brianna wouldn’t be able to see how her cheeks were flushed, as if she was a shy teenager again. All of the confidence and composure that she usually relied on to keep her anxiety at bay had been stripped away by the unexpected turn of events, and it was as if a rug had been pulled out from under her, leaving her struggling to catch her balance.

Kameron looked around at the small apartment, trying to distract herself. It was mostly one room, with a couple of doors to the left. She stared blankly at the small TV against the far wall, trying to figure out how she should feel.

There was no reference to go by - she’d never been saved or defended physically, much less by a woman a half foot shorter than her who unexpectedly turned out to be hiding a lot of muscle under her profoundly un-intimidating exterior.

“I’ll give you the grand tour,” Brianna said, pulling Kameron out of her thoughts. “This half is the kitchen, and the dining room. That half is the living room, starting with the couch. Kid-sized bedroom and bathroom are to the left. Luckily, I’m literally the height and weight of a large child, so it’s nice and roomy for me.”

“It’s hot,” Kameron said, realizing that it hadn’t gotten any cooler since they’d entered the building. “I didn’t notice at first…”

“Yeah, the AC’s broken everywhere except the bathroom,” Brianna sighed, rolling her eyes. “They won’t fix it. Good thing we’re going in there first anyway.”

True to her word, Brianna’s bathroom was both tiny and freezing, and Kameron felt oversized in comparison, her face hot as Brianna pushed her down by the shoulders, sitting her on the lid of the toilet seat. A slender thumb brushed just under the gash on Kameron’s cheek, and Brianna squinted slightly, her fingers tucking under Kameron’s chin to tilt her face up towards the fluorescent light.

Brianna made an inquisitive noise, brushing Kameron’s hair back and off of her shoulder, and then her free hand was moving from Kameron’s cheek to the side of her neck, tracing the tattoo there lightly.

“I like it,” Brianna said, under her breath. A fingertip slowly outlined the points of the crystal, and Kameron held her breath, immobilized by Brianna’s touch even as her heart raced in her chest.

“Thanks,” she managed to reply, her throat dry.

“If this scars, it’s gonna be really badass,” Brianna mused, her attention abruptly returning to the matter at hand. “It’ll probably match the whole look you’ve got going.”

Her entire body still buzzing from the teasing contact, Kameron swallowed and kept her gaze straight ahead until Brianna released her and moved towards the sink, stretching up to grab items from the cabinet behind the mirror. She was saying something else, but Kameron couldn’t collect her thoughts enough to listen, too busy watching as Brianna’s white tank came untucked and crept up her stomach.

She bit her lip, and winced as the movement pulled at the gash on her cheek. Brianna padded back over, soaking a cotton ball in disinfectant, and Kameron wondered absentmindedly why the other woman had chosen to wear stockings under her skirt.

“This is going to sting, babe.”

Brianna’s voice was low, a soft murmur. Her tank top was rolled up just under her ribs, and she was so close that Kameron could see the goosebumps rising on her stomach from the air conditioning. It occured to Kameron then, how easy it would be wrap her hands around Brianna’s tiny waist, rub her thumbs over the tight abdominal muscles and make her shiver for other reasons.

She was trying to work up the nerve to do it, figuring that Brianna did bring her back to her apartment and voluntarily position herself this close by, when Brianna lifted her chin again and interrupted her train of thought by dabbing the cut with the cotton ball.

The flash of pain made Kameron hiss, and she gritted her teeth, determined to maintain whatever composure she had left by staying silent and still as rock.

The next touch hurt even more, and Kameron dared to risk eye contact and look at Brianna’s face, needing something to distract her. Thankfully, Brianna was focused on her work, her brows furrowed slightly, lips pressed tight together.

The harsh lighting in the room should’ve been unflattering - Kameron knew she herself couldn’t possibly look good in it - but somehow, Brianna managed to be strikingly pretty anyway.

“Almost done, you’re not even bleeding anymore,” Brianna said under her breath, her expression slightly amused. “Look at you, tough girl. Staying all quiet and stoic.”

Brianna chuckled quietly, and Kameron inspected her expression, trying to figure out how to react.

“I’m not sure if that was meant to be shady or not,” she finally said after a moment, clearing her throat.

“Mmm,” Brianna hummed.

“You’re, like, really hard to read, you know that?”

“And you’re really cute,” Brianna replied, dabbing at Kameron’s cut one more time and then giving a little nod, apparently deciding to leave it at that. She turned, occupying herself with something by the sink that Kameron couldn’t see.

“Even after I made a goddamn fool of myself and got my ass kicked?” Kameron laughed a little, trying to compensate for her own embarrassment. “So stupid.”

“Yeah,” Brianna replied, wheeling back around with a genuine grin on her face and a handful of small butterfly bandages. “Definitely stupid, but also cute. Stupid-cute.”

“That didn’t feel like a compliment,” Kameron muttered, smiling despite herself.

“Well, take what you can get,” Brianna replied, leaning in again and starting to affix the paper stitches to Kameron’s cheek. The pull on her skin stung, but she bit her tongue. “I don’t hand out compliments often.”

“Do you bring random women into your apartment to play nurse often?” Kameron glanced up at her.

“Only when they look like they could beat me in a wrestling match,” Brianna said dryly, the corner of her mouth twitching.

“I think we’ve established that I most definitely could not.”

“But you could probably bench press me,” Brianna pointed out.

“Probably,” Kameron agreed, wondering if the comment gave her an excuse to reach for Brianna’s waist, or grab onto her hips, like she’d been itching to do all night. “Want me to try?”

“Tempting as that sounds, I’m currently saving your life, so it’ll have to wait,” Brianna deadpanned, and Kameron snorted.

A few moments passed in silence, and then Brianna tapped the edges of butterfly stitches lightly with her finger and nodded.

“Am I gonna make it through the night, you think?” Kameron asked, her lips twitching.

“Well, it was rough going there for a bit, but I think you’re in the clear,” Brianna replied, her tone overly serious. “You wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve had injured women flatline in this very bathroom.”

Kameron couldn’t help but laugh at that, standing up from her position on the toilet lid. Brianna was putting her first aid materials back into the mirror closet, the corner of her mouth turned up in a smile.

“You’re one of the lucky ones,” Brianna added. She pulled her shirt down, much to Kameron’s disappointment, and proceeded to shoo her out of the bathroom.

“Clearly.”

The sudden rise in temperature as Kameron passed through the doorway was was almost dizzying. For the second time that night, she found herself regretting wearing jeans, wishing that the vibe she wanted to give off to potential hookups didn’t have a dress code.

She leaned back against the counter in Brianna’s corner kitchen, running her hands through her hair and flipping it back. Brianna had already swept past her in a rush of vanilla perfume, and was in the process of methodically emptying her purse onto the wooden table. Kameron frowned, about to ask why she was taking out her sunglasses and wallet, but before she could, Brianna lifted the purse and dumped the rest of the contents - a surprising amount of wadded up dollar and five dollar bills - onto the table.

“You’re organized,” Kameron commented after a moment, watching as Brianna rapidly sorted through the bills, flattening each one with the heel of her hand before stacking them in piles.

“My only redeemable trait,” Brianna said dryly.

“I dunno, I think you’re a pretty good bartender, too,” Kameron said, crossing her ankles and resting her elbows on the counter behind her. “And a good substitute nurse. Not to mention that ass-kicking you did behind the bar.”

Brianna shrugged, a small smile on her face.

“That cut still sore?” she asked, directing the subject away from herself.

“A little,” Kameron said, trying to brush it off. “I’m okay, though.”

“I can tell you’re lying, you know,” Brianna said with a chuckle. “You don’t have to prove anything to me, babe. Vulnerability is sexy, or so I’ve been told.”

“I’ve heard that too.” Kameron flattened her hands against the counter. “Never really believed it.”

“Me neither.”

Brianna met her gaze, and they both smiled.

“But, really, though,” Brianna said after a moment, breaking the eye contact and picking up a bottle of pills that she’d taken out of her purse earlier. “I have ibuprofen, if it hurts.”

“Yeah, it does,” Kameron admitted. “Thanks.”

Brianna waved the gratitude away, and tossed her the pill bottle. Before Kameron could even ask for water, Brianna was filling a glass from the sink, and Kameron was impressed once again by how quickly she moved.

“Thanks,” Kameron repeated as Brianna handed her the glass.

“Mmmhm,” Brianna hummed. She had returned to the table, and was stacking the last bills. Kameron watched her hands, almost mesmerized, as rolled the stacks up, and secured them quickly with rubber bands from a dish in the center of the table.

“You’re very good with your hands,” Kameron said softly, and the corner of Brianna’s mouth turned up.

“Not the context I usually hear that in.”

Kameron took a sip of water, her throat feeling suddenly dry. Now would be the perfect time to make a move, but she couldn’t figure out how, positive that anything she said wouldn’t be nearly as quick-witted or appropriate as what Brianna might come up with. Frustrated, she chewed on the inside of her cheek, staring at the ground and hoping Brianna wouldn’t notice her annoyance.

“It’s late,” Brianna said finally, zipping her purse closed. “You should probably spend the night.”

When Kameron glanced back up at her, Brianna was already staring at her, an eyebrow cocked. The suggestion felt unmistakably like a challenge, and Kameron fumbled for the right response, the palpable sexual tension making her face grow hot.

“I can, if you want,” she said finally, the words tumbling out too fast.

“Well, I’m not sending you out on your own at this hour,” Brianna said resignedly. “I didn’t save your ass just to have you leave and get it kicked again.”

“Right,” Kameron nodded, forcing out a laugh and looking down again, a sinking feeling in her gut. “I can sleep on your couch, I guess.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely something you can do.”

Kameron cursed at herself internally as Brianna walked right by her and towards her bathroom. Whatever the challenge had been, she’d clearly failed, and Brianna seemed impatient, almost exasperated. Kameron grabbed her clutch from the counter and walked over to the couch, kicking off her pumps a bit more aggressively than was probably necessary.

She busied herself with her phone as she heard the water running in the bathroom, growing even more irritated with herself as she watched Aquaria’s Instagram story. She was clearly drunker than she’d been earlier, and every single video featured an almost-equally-drunk Asia pressed against her, laughing or kissing the side of her face.

The feeling of missing out on things due to her shy, introverted nature had been always been a constant in Kameron’s life, and over time, she’d grown to accept it. But tonight, it was frustrating, to say the least.

“Here, you can wear these,” Brianna called, tossing a bundle of clothing into Kameron’s lap.

Kameron mumbled a thank you, but Brianna was already walking into bedroom. She watched as the other woman started to strip, her back to the doorway, fingers sliding under the clasp of her nude bra. Coming to her senses, Kameron shook her head and focused her attention on the pile of fabric in her lap.

There was a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, and Kameron lifted the shirt, eyeing it amusedly. Clearly, Brianna wasn’t thinking straight. They probably hadn’t been anywhere close to the same size since Kameron was in middle school. She set them on the coffee table as neatly as she could, and flipped through notifications on her phone to distract herself until Brianna’s bedroom door clicked shut, leaving the rest of the apartment dark except for the light coming in through the window.

She kicked off her pumps and stood, peeling off her jeans and laying them over the arm of the couch. She didn’t even bother with the clothes Brianna had left her, figuring that the boyshorts she was wearing covered enough of her ass. And besides, if Brianna was to wander out of her room, there wasn’t really a downside to her getting a look at Kameron’s thigh tattoo. Kameron figured that with the amount of money it had cost, it deserved to be showed off. And if the way Brianna had traced the tattoo on her throat fascinatedly was any indication, it might just raise the chances of her leaving tomorrow with the other woman’s number.

After a moment of consideration, Kameron stripped out of her shirt as well, and collapsed on the couch with a sigh. She usually slept naked, even with her own, functional air conditioning, and it was far too hot in Brianna’s apartment to wear more than undergarments.

She flopped onto her back, tucking a worn out pillow under her head, and stared up at a crack in the ceiling. Brianna hadn’t given her a blanket, she realized. Then again, it wasn’t as if she’d use it.

Turning onto her side, Kameron huffed out another sigh. This night hadn’t turned out how she’d planned, and now that she was left with her thoughts, Kameron found herself growing more and more frustrated.

It wasn’t as if there hadn’t been an opportunity to come onto Brianna. In fact, there’d been multiple moments where Kameron knew that she could’ve made a move, not to mention Brianna’s obvious flirting and interest in her. Making moves on women was never a department she’d lacked confidence before, but there was just something about Brianna in particular that stripped away the facade that she usually wore for her one night stands, revealing the shy, unsure person that she was underneath.

The shift of dynamic was intimidating, but it was also exciting, and Kameron was surprised at how attractive she found Brianna’s toughness and command of every situation.

She just wished that she’d had the nerve to follow Brianna into her bedroom.

Rolling onto her back again, Kameron heaved another sigh. Her eyes had adjusted, and the room seemed practically bright now.

Suddenly, the bedroom door opened, and light flooded over the couch, making Kameron cover her eyes with her forearm. Propping herself up, she peered at the door just in time to Brianna emerge in a pair of sleep shorts and a camisole, with an expression on her face that Kameron could only describe as determination.

“Hey,” Kameron greeted her, surprised.

“It’s too hot to sleep,” Brianna said by way of reply, passing by the couch without even looking at her. “You want a beer?”

“Um, yeah.” Kameron sat up and ran her hands through her hair, wondering if this was God or the universe giving her a second shot at ending the day right.

The small light in the kitchen area clicked on, and Brianna could be heard opening the fridge. Her heart rate already picking up speed, Kameron checked her phone for the time - 2:32 AM - and then shot Asia and Aquaria a text confirming that yes, she was fine, and no, she hadn’t gotten laid yet. She briefly considered putting her shirt back on, but before she could make a decision, Brianna was rounding the back of the couch and handing her an open beer bottle.

“Thanks.” Kameron glanced up to find Brianna staring at her, lips slightly parted. She took a sip of beer to hide her satisfied smile, suddenly feeling very grateful for Brianna’s overheated apartment.

“So, is there a reason why you’re practically naked?” Brianna said after a moment, perching on the edge of the couch, her tone almost too calm.

“Your broken air conditioner.” Kameron crossed her arms under her boobs, and looked over at Brianna. “And the fact that you’re several sizes smaller than me.”

“Giving you my clothes was pretty stupid, wasn’t it?” Brianna asked rhetorically, a short laugh escaping her as her eyes flicked up and down Kameron’s body again.

“Yeah,” Kameron agreed. “The fact that you apparently want to see me in your clothing is cute, though.”

“Stupid-cute,” Brianna said under her breath, and Kameron flashed her a smile.

The sleep shorts Brianna wore left her thighs exposed, and Kameron could see the flex of muscle under her pale skin as she crossed her legs neatly. Kameron swallowed thickly, her knuckles turning white as she gripped her beer bottle.

“I’d say I’m sorry about the heat, but I think we both know I’d be lying,” Brianna said.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Oh, so now you wanna play coy?” Brianna was leaning back on one of her hands. “Now that you’re on my couch in lingerie, it seems like the right time to act like you’re unaware of how hot you are?”

Yet again, the smile on her face seemed almost like a challenge, and Kameron was determined not to fail a second time.

“Hot?” Kameron could feel her confidence rising, the cocky attitude that she’d been trying to get back all night appearing all at once. “I dunno, I thought I was just cute.”

“Oh, please, now you’re just fishing for compliments,” Brianna laughed.

Kameron hummed amusedly in reply and shrugged, watching the smaller woman lift her own bottle to her lips, the line of her neck extending as she tilted her head back. There was a bead of sweat rolling down her chest, from the hollow of her throat to the space between her breasts.

“Like I said, it’s hot,” Kameron said, following the line of Brianna’s collarbone with her gaze. “I just couldn’t get comfy in my clothing.”

“It’s cooler out here than in my bedroom,” Brianna said.

Kameron doubted that. Maybe it’d been tolerable before, but now that Brianna was nearby and flirting with her again, the little clothing that she was wearing felt like it was sticking to her. She tossed her hair back, raking a hand through it in an attempt to get it off of her neck.

She could feel Brianna’s eyes on her, and resisted the urge to stare back for as long as possible, exhaling a long breath and rolling her shoulders a few times in an effort to calm down. When she finally turned to meet Brianna’s eyes, the other woman was biting her lower lip hard enough that it was a shock she hadn’t drawn blood.

The resulting rush of confidence nearly made Kameron’s head spin.

“See something you like?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Brianna stared at her for a moment, tongue poking out of the corner of her slightly open mouth.

“Alright, enough,” Brianna said finally, standing up. “Put down your bottle.”

“Why?”

“Put it down.”

Kameron opened her mouth, and then closed it, leaning forwards to set her bottle on the coffee table. Brianna dropped hers beside it, and then her hands were on Kameron’s shoulders again, using her for support as she climbed onto her lap.

Before Brianna could even settle her weight, Kameron was sitting up straighter and reaching for her waist. Brianna pushed her back against the couch forcefully, fingers digging into the hard muscle of Kameron’s shoulders, knees digging into the outsides of her thighs.

“No more dancing around this,” Brianna announced, voice breathy. “It’s happening, now.”

Not about to argue, Kameron gripped Brianna’s hips tightly, slid her thumbs up under her camisole, the heat of the other woman’s skin nearly enough to burn. Brianna made a noise in her throat, and Kameron took that as an invitation to move her hands higher, pushing the fabric up and dragging her palms over Brianna’s sides.

Brianna twisted in her hold, exhaling against Kameron’s skin, and Kameron couldn’t think about anything other than kissing her until the heat and lack of oxygen made the smaller woman lightheaded and soft in her hands.

As if she could hear Kameron’s thoughts, Brianna finally closed the rest of the space between them, one hand cupping Kameron’s jaw as she crushed their lips together.

The kiss was more like a collision than anything else, rough and hot, and Kameron let Brianna take control as soon as the other woman’s tongue pressed between her lips. She tasted like mint and beer, and Kameron felt drunk and clumsy, Brianna’s fingers combing through her hair, body pressing closer and closer every second.

She raked her nails up Brianna’s sides, pushing the thin camisole higher still, and Brianna’s responding moan vibrated against her lips. Kameron needed the clothing to be gone, needed all of Brianna’s skin bare under her hands. She needed both of them naked, stripped down and pressed together, slick with sweat and sex.

The moment Brianna pulled back from the kiss, she was leaning back, stripping her own shirt off and tossing it onto the couch beside them. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and Kameron cursed quietly, immediately moving her hands up higher to rub her thumbs over Brianna’s dark nipples. They were impossibly hard despite the heat, and Brianna’s breath caught in a perfect little moan as Kameron rolled one of them between her thumb and index finger.

“I was - I was waiting for you to make this happen,” Brianna said. “Why do you think I left the door to my room open?”

“I don’t know,” Kameron breathed, meeting Brianna’s gaze. “You seem so sure of yourself, I was just following your lead.”

Brianna leaned in to kiss her again briefly, one hand resting on Kameron’s shoulder and the other pulling down urgently on the cups of her bra, fingers digging roughly into her breasts. She released Kameron’s bicep, reaching behind her and deftly unhooking the bra, and Kameron shrugged it off as fast as she could.

“What the fuck?” Brianna panted the question, eyes wide and pupils dark as they flickered over Kameron’s body.

“Yeah, they’re real,” Kameron said, huffing out a laugh and grabbing Brianna’s wrists, pressing her chest into the other woman’s hands. She sighed at the feeling. “I swear. Daily push-ups are better than any boob job.”

Brianna’s hands looked tiny cupping her breasts, the soft flesh spilling between her fingers, Kameron’s skin turning pale as she squeezed. Kameron wet her lips, unable to tell whether the sight or the sensation affected her more.

Before she could figure it out, Brianna was leaning down and sucking one of her nipples into her mouth. Kameron let out a small moan that was more like a whimper, her head falling back against the top of the couch. Brianna’s lips trailed higher, palms spreading Kameron’s breasts as she lapped at the sweat collecting between them.

Struggling to keep her lungs working, Kameron ran her fingers through Brianna’s platinum blonde hair, collecting it in her hands. She looked down, her stomach twisting at the sight of Brianna’s face buried in her breasts.

Closing her eyes, Kameron tried to gather herself, regain some control over the situation. And then, Brianna’s teeth dug into her skin suddenly, unexpectedly. Kameron cursed out loud, tugging on her hair sharply, and the responding moan from Brianna was absolutely filthy. Kameron squeezed her own thighs together, the rush of arousal making her dizzy.

Needing to hear that sound again, Kameron moved her hands closer to Brianna’s scalp, wrapping the locks around her fingers before tugging again, this time pulling Brianna’s head back along with her hair. Brianna groaned, gripping Kameron’s biceps and grinding down against her lap.

Kameron pulled her in, crashing their lips together again, Brianna’s hair tangled tight in her fingers to keep her still. She nipped at Brianna’s lower lip experimentally, and nails dug into her arms as Brianna let out a strangled moan.

The kiss felt more sensual than it had been before, less aggressive, and this time, it wasn’t difficult for Kameron to take control. This was far more familiar territory for her, and Brianna was practically melting in her grasp, going sweet and soft like ice cream in the summer heat.

The breathy whimpers and gasps that Brianna let out every time Kameron tugged at her hair were unbearably sexy, and Kameron felt herself losing total track of time, caught up in the intoxicating feeling of nearly suffocating from kisses that seemed to keep growing longer and messier.

Tilting Brianna’s head back, Kameron trailed her lips down the other woman’s neck, biting at the soft skin gently before soothing it with her tongue.

“Mmm, Kam, please.” Brianna was practically whining now, her voice weak and high.

“Did you want something, baby?” Kameron asked, hiding a smile in the hollow of Brianna’s throat and winding her fingers tighter in her hair.

Brianna only groaned in reply and squirmed, her hips bucking as Kameron sucked hard on her pulse point. Once she’d gotten past the tough exterior, Brianna was exactly the girl that Kameron had thought she was - the kind who begged, and whimpered, and left imprints from their nails in Kameron’s biceps.

Now that the power had shifted, Kameron was in her element, and she had to take a little time to enjoy it.

“I can’t do anything if I don’t know what you want,” she prompted, her voice low, pressing slow kisses up the pale column of Brianna’s neck.

“Fuck me,” Brianna breathed, giving in and tugging urgently at one of Kameron’s wrists.

Unable to wipe the cocky smile off of her face, Kameron released Brianna’s hair, allowing the other woman to guide her hand down and between her legs. Leaning up to kiss her again, Kameron cupped Brianna through the thin, loose fabric of her sleep shorts, eyes fluttering shut at the damp heat against her palm.

Brianna was panting and whimpering into the kiss, gripping Kameron’s shoulders for support and grinding steadily against her hand. Their chests brushed together, skin against skin, Kameron’s nipples dragging over Brianna’s ribs with every movement and sending her body into overdrive.

When Brianna whimpered for more, Kameron didn’t bother waiting, pushing the crotch of her shorts to the side, breath catching as she dragged her fingertips through the sticky wetness beneath. She pressed two fingers against Brianna’s entrance, just barely dipping inside, gaze focused on how Brianna’s abs flexed as her hips rolled forwards.

“Mmmm, you want it?” Kameron teased, looking back up to admire Brianna’s flushed cheeks, her open mouth, her big eyes squeezed shut.

“Yeah - yes, Kam, please,” Brianna begged, voice pitching up into a whine as Kameron slid her fingers into her, hips bucking against the intrusion. “Fuck, more - I want more.”

“So bossy,” Kameron murmured, pushing a third finger in beside the first two. Brianna let out a drawn out moan at that, starting to ride Kameron’s fingers in earnest.

Kameron let Brianna do the work, pressing her lips to the other woman’s collarbone and occupying herself with leaving open-mouthed kisses along the taut skin. When she felt Brianna’s wetness dripping onto her thighs, she twisted her wrist, starting to squeeze in a fourth finger.

Brianna gasped sharply at that, eyes opening wide, thighs tensing as she tried to lift herself away. Kameron slid her spare hand down across Brianna’s cheek to settle at the base of her throat, fingers wrapping around her neck and squeezing ever so gently.

“You wanted more,” she said, her voice low. “So take it, tough girl.”

Brianna’s eyes darkened visibly, and Kameron stared right back, knowing that she’d never back away from such an obvious challenge. She squeezed Brianna’s throat again, just for a moment, loving the way the other woman’s breath caught.

Her nails digging into Kameron’s shoulders, Brianna sank down onto her fingers slowly, never once breaking eye contact. She let out a long, shuddering breath, and Kameron could feel her walls clenching and then relaxing. She squeezed her own thighs together, feeling the stickiness between them.

“So, are you gonna fuck me now, babe?” Brianna managed to ask, breathless, rotating her hips slowly. “Or are those muscles of yours just for show?”

Not bothering to reply, Kameron started to pump her fingers in and out, forearm flexing as she flicked her wrist. Brianna met every stroke, letting out little grunts of effort, her gaze trained on Kameron’s breasts.

“C’mon,” she panted, tossing her hair back and looking up to meet Kameron’s eyes once more. “Is that - fuck - is that all you’ve got?”

Narrowing her eyes, Kameron released Brianna’s neck and wrapped her arm around her waist, pulling the other woman’s hips down to force her fingers deeper. Brianna groaned, tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth.

Holding Brianna steady, Kameron increased her pace, biting down on her lower lip. The noises coming from between Brianna’s legs were filthy, her wetness dripping down Kameron’s wrist. Suddenly very aware of her own body, Kameron felt the burn starting to grow in her forearm, the sweat on the back of her neck and under her breasts, the ache in her core.

Brianna was twisting in her grasp, a mess of pants and whimpers, and Kameron pushed just a little harder, feeling Brianna’s channel shudder.

“How’s that?” she ground out, looking up just in time to see Brianna’s face contort, mouth dropping open in a soundless scream.

“Gorgeous,” Kameron breathed into the moment of silence, Brianna’s cunt rippling around her fingers.

And then, Brianna collapsed against her, hips twitching, moaning low into her neck. Kameron held her close, palm pressed to her back, fingers moving slowly inside her and helping her ride out the climax.

After another few moments, she pulled her hand away, Brianna whining weakly beside her ear at the loss.

Kameron wiped her fingers on Brianna’s thigh, and then wrapped both arms around her and ducked to kiss her shoulder, content to stay like that until Brianna came back to herself or fell asleep. The moments passed slowly, Brianna breathing softly and quietly, and Kameron realized that it might be the second option. She was slightly surprised to find that she didn’t mind that in the slightest.

This was always one of Kameron’s favorite parts, the moments just after. The other woman pressed close against her, shaky or shivering, relearning how to make her lungs work, how to open her eyes, how to put sentences together.

Brianna’s chest was resting against hers, face buried in her neck, and Kameron could feel her heartbeat slowing under her hands, breathing evening out against her skin.

She’d felt all of it before, but she didn’t think she’d ever loved it quite so much as she did now.

Lifting Brianna slightly, Kameron turned her body, repositioning herself as carefully as she could before pulling her own legs back onto the couch and laying the two of them down.

“Mmmm?” Brianna hummed, raising her head and blinking at Kameron.

“Hey there,” Kameron said softly, reaching up to brush Brianna’s hair away from her face. “You dozed off for a minute, baby.”

“Sorry,” Brianna murmured, shaking her head.

“It’s okay,” Kameron chuckled, echoing her thoughts from earlier. “I don’t mind. You can sleep.”

“But… I wanna make you come,” Brianna protested, the words coming slowly and hesitantly for the first time all night. “You’re so… so hot. Wanna eat you out.”

“There’ll be time for that in the morning,” Kameron said, a smile spreading across her face.

Brianna frowned at her, brow furrowing weakly.

“I’m fine, baby. I promise.”

Signing, Brianna gave in and let her head fall onto Kameron’s shoulder, arm winding around her waist.

“Thanks for trying to save me,” she said sleepily.

“Thanks for actually saving me,” Kameron said with a quiet laugh. “I got lucky.”

“‘M glad I met you, Kam.”

“I’m glad you made this happen,” Kameron replied. “I’m such a baby, I was too intimidated.”

Brianna chuckled, and nuzzled closer tucking her face into Kameron’s neck.

“You’re cute,” she mumbled. “I’m gonna give you my number tomorrow.”

There was a pause, and Kameron’s smile widened. She rubbed Brianna’s back gently, not having the words to reply and not feeling any particular pressure to find them. It was hot, lying close together like this, but Kameron felt too warm inside to care.

“‘M gonna be so sore tomorrow,” Brianna added after a moment.

“That’s your own fault.”

Brianna snorted, and Kameron felt her nod once. Then, she sighed, and her breathing evened out once more.

#crameron #kameron michaels #miz cracker #smut #humor #miss bianca #aquaria #asia o'hara #tw minor violence #rpdr fanfiction #s10 #lesbian au

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porthavenhq · 4 years ago

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Welcome to Porthaven, Rika! We can’t wait to meet Hades Cosmatos!

Please look over the acceptance checklist and submit your blog within the next 24 hours. If there is a problem or a prior obligation and you need more time than provided, just message the main and we will gladly extend!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　OUT OF CHARACTER　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Name: Rika Pronouns: she/her Age: 20 Timezone: EST Activity Level: 5/10 Triggers: nope! Anything Else: I love all of you <3

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　CHARACTER INFORMATION　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Name: Hades Aidoneus Cosmatos Age: November 15, 1985 Gender: Cis Male FC: David Gandy

Character Biography

Hades Aidoneus Cosmatos was born on the Greek island of Crete in the middle of the clear, cool night. His mother recalls the sky sparkling with the silver light of a thousand stars, but the moon was dark and new. He emerged into the world surprisingly quiet - a stark contrast to his two future brothers. Hades sometimes wonders if his father viewed him with resentment even then, or if it was the one moment where he looked upon his eldest son with pride. Kronos was a powerful man with business ventures all over the world who couldn’t be bothered to raise a child. In front of cameras the Cosmatos family was the golden ideal of what a successful Greek family looked like, but behind the scenes things were far more dysfunctional. Rhea quickly became Hades’ refuge. It was her advice he asked for whenever he had a problem. Her arms he ran to when his father came home angry. The family dynamic changed a bit when Poseidon came into the picture, but the abuse Hades endured only became more private. Hades knew Poseidon had an idea of what was going on, but was smart enough not to interfere and risk getting on their father’s bad side as well. Hades has never understood why his father disliked him so much. If his mother knew she never told him.

Zeus, the youngest, was born beautiful and bright. Even as a child it was obvious he had more charisma and confidence than Hades had ever possessed. Everyone Their father’s anger lessened as he began to favor his youngest son. Kronos showed Zeus kindness and paternal love that Hades had never experienced. He didn’t hate his brother for it, but it certainly caused a rift between the two that neither have ever addressed. Hades doesn’t know if Zeus was ever aware of what Kronos put him through, or if his golden brother just chose to ignore it.

As the years went on Hades became quieter and darker. Zeus was always in the spotlight, and what little light was left over shone on Poseidon instead. Hades just faded into the shadows. His father hassled him about not being more like his brothers - as if Kronos’ own actions hadn’t created the persona of the boy he was so unhappy with. Hades’ resentment towards his father was evident and Rhea was the only reason he was still taken on trips or to events into his teenage years. He became more antisocial, choosing to spend his time around the kinds of people his brothers barely acknowledged and his father didn’t approve of. It wasn’t rare that his mother would be called down to his school after he got into a fight or caught him smoking. But even Rhea couldn’t intervene when Kronos had Hades shipped off to a private school in England. He said it was to give their eldest son a breath of fresh air and hopefully clean up his act, but everyone knew he just wanted to get rid of Hades. Momentarily at least.

The self destructive boy who left Greece all those years ago was not the man who came back after graduating from Oxford. Hades certainly seemed to have “cleaned up his act,” but he wasn’t obedient or dense like his brothers. Kronos surprised Hades by offering him a high up position in the family’s company. From the outside it looked like an act of kindness, a peace treaty of sorts. In reality it was just another way for his father to control him and make sure he wouldn’t pose a threat or become a competitor. Hades surprised Kronos by taking the position even though he knew why it was offered. He wanted the connections, the avenues it could lead him down. It wasn’t a position that he could advance far in, but he never had any plans to climb his father’s corporate ladder. For years he saved up and learned all the in-and-outs of finances. And then he left. Hades left and made a name for himself outside of his father’s legacy. He cultivated a reputation for not being afraid to get his hands dirty if it came down to it.

Then the unimaginable happened. News of his parents’ car crash was delivered by the news before either of his brothers informed him. Kronos had been killed on impact and Rhea was in critical condition. Reporters were staked out in front of the family manor for days on end. Hades spent half of his time in the hospital, anxious to hear any updates on his mother as soon as they were available. He went to his father’s funeral for appearances - he can’t remember the last time he felt so completely numb. And then came the will reading. Hades got a fair portion of Kronos’ money thanks to his mother’s insistence, but his brothers got the vast majority. Zeus also inherited the company. Zeus, who barely knew anything about business. Zeus, who couldn’t even manage his own money. Zeus-

Needless to say, Hades was a little pissed. Not that he had ever expected his father to leave him the company, but he hadn’t thought Kronos was so blindly biased to leave his legacy in the hands of a frat boy. He helped out his brother for a little while, but left after Zeus arrogantly tried to boast how well he was doing all on his own. The new CEO suddenly had to figure out how to do everything on his own and Hades moved to Porthaven, where he’s been since. Hades isn’t exactly a good or bad figure in the city, but he certainly has made his mark.

Headcanons

The Cosmatos family have beautiful homes in Greece, London, and New York City. Hades spent a lot of time during his childhood and teenage years traveling between them. A great deal of his school was conducted in England, which is why his accent is a blend of both British and Greek.

Many are surprised to find out that Hades loves dogs. He doesn’t seem like much of a pet owning type. Currently he only has one - a doberman named Cerberus. Hades is open to getting more, but would rather let fate dictate when that happens than search for any himself.

Hades is currently in a rather toxic relationship. As composed and self-assured as he comes across, he is actually rather insecure. He’s terrified of becoming just like his father and has trouble bonding with people. Often he feels like he’s unlovable - which is why he’s with someone who treats him terribly. She routinely blows him off, is always asking for gifts, and refuses to truly commit. He’s vaguely aware that she’s cheating on him, but doesn’t want to acknowledge it.

The Underworld Nightclub was a massive success, though many residents dislike its presence in Porthaven. It also serves as a base of operations for some of Hades’ shadier dealings. He’s not against doing underhanded business or resorting to unsavory tactics to get what he’s owed.

Inspiration

#phqacceptance #domestic abuse tw #parental death tw #child abuse tw #car accident tw

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brothers-all · 7 years ago

Text

Echoy'la (Lost)

Okay everyone! I finished this one quick, might have pulled an all nighter, and it's a sort of... 'before the storm' kinda of chapter. Adds a bit more before the next one (which will be big) so hope you don't mind =P

Now then, as I said, this one is kinda short (compared to the others) but it's supposed to be that way so... Read, review and enjoy~

Chapter 7 Tegaanalir (Rescue)

"Commander Tano," she was startled slightly by the sudden call of her name.

"Yes?" she turned around, strapping her lightsabers to her side. She relaxed, seeing it was only Tup – but he seemed far from it.

"…Is it true? A Sith is there as well?" she saw his jaw tighten a bit and her eyes dropped. She had almost forgotten Tup was a rookie when the Umbara Incident happened, where he met his firth Sith – even if Krell wasn't one officially one, he was still considered to be such.

"Yes, but don't worry," she tried to assure him. "My Master and I will deal with him. The rest of you need to find our boys."

"…Understood," she saw him trying to suppress the relief, but the Force around him spoke otherwise. She reached up, gently touching his forearm.

"Focus on your brothers Tup… I – We're leaving them in your care…"

"They're your brothers as well, Ahsoka."

He kept walking, even if he had to lean on the walls. Everything was still dizzy, still murky and he couldn't hear the screaming anymore. He's dead…

The thought alone forced him to move faster, quicker. No. No, he can't be. He can't be! He stumbled forward but managed to catch himself in time and moved again.

Save… Need to save… The other voice was silent now and he found himself a bit lost. Where was he going? This place… looked like the Star Cruiser. It felt off – he had the whole place memorized but there were halls where there shouldn't be ones.

It's another trick. The voice whispered, but it sounded distant. He shook it off – from the corner of his eye, he spotted an open door. That way. It spoke again, before seeming to vanish. He gritted his teeth and forced his legs to move, and as he did, the fog started to clear little by little. And then he saw him…

"REX!" he was beyond happy to see him, but horror wrapped around his heart as he saw the condition ori'vod was in.

No, no, nononono! He can't be- He can't be-! He stumbled forward at first, moving too quickly and almost falling, but that didn't stop him from running to the Captain.

"Rex? Rex! Can you hear me?" he panicked, checking the man for a pulse. "Ori'vod, wake up!" he shook as he dared to look away to find the controls for the straps.

He hadn't realized he fell asleep. At least, until he heard a distant shout of his name.

"Who… who's calling me? What… do you need me to do?" His mind was swimming, lost at the moment, before feeling someone reaching for his head, his neck. Attack. Someone's trying to kill- Two fingers on his throat. Pulse. They're checking for a pulse…

"Rex? Rex! Can you hear me?" he knew that voice but… he's never heard it so scared. So panicked. He wanted to answer, but couldn't seem to find the words.

"Ori'vod, wake up!" he grunted and opened his eyes just before feeling the straps around his body release. He would have smacked dead into the ground, had someone not grabbed him and held him steady.

"Please, wake up…" he was pleading now, gently lowering him onto the ground but still keeping a hold on him.

"Fives…" he managed, even if weakly. "I'm here…" things were starting to clear and he frowned as a massive headache started in his head.

"Rex!" the ARC Trooper smiled, pulling the blonde into a tight hug. "You're alive!" he buried his head in the Captain's shoulder. "I thought they killed everyone by now…"

"Fives, Fives, it's alright… I'm alright…" Rex carefully hugged the younger brother back. "And the others are here too. Trapped. But here," he said softly, feeling his brother pull away.

"But – But they told me they killed everyone…" Fives looked confused and lost as he sat back on his knees.

"They lied… They've been lying this whole time…" Rex closed his eyes, recalling what had happened a bit before. He finally saw the truth… "C'mon, we need to free the others," the Captain stood up, offering a hand. "And then we need to get back. To warn everyone."

He was curled up in the corner, hands on his head, trying to stop the screams. So many dead, so many he couldn't save, so many lost, so many-

"Kix…" he felt a hand on his shoulder and winced. He's been getting lost in the horrible memories, but Jesse has been gently bringing him back.

"Sorry…" he mumbled, unwrapping his arms around his knees.

"Umbara again?" he could only nod as the ARC Trooper ran a hand over his head.

"…You never talk about it…" Cinder spoke up, sitting a few paces away from the medic. "…I never knew it was this horrible…" the images he was forced to see made him throw up.

"…We didn't want anyone else to know…" Jesse said, resting a hand on the youngest shoulder. "I'm… sorry they forced you to see our memories of it…"

"It always makes me sick, remembering how many we lost… " Kix mumbled again, looking at a scratch on the metal. "And now… Who knows how many more we lost… Just because they refused to act," he looked at his brothers, seeing their grief-ridden faces.

And then, the cell door opened, two figures standing there, the light of the hall casting them in shadows. Jesse instinctively stepped forward again, hands outstretched to protect his brothers. Kix was in ready position to jump if anyone attacked and Cinder moved closer to the both of them.

"Jesse, Kix, Cinder… You're all alive!" the voice called and they found themselves frozen in shock.

"I told you they were," that one made Jesse drop to his knees, Kix tremble because he didn't want to believe it just yet and Cinder needed to remember to breath.

"C'mon boys, let's get out of here," Rex and Fives stepped further in, giving small smiles and extending their arms.

"We never thought… we'd see you again," Kix actually spoke, seeing Jesse was in too much shock to even stand on his own.

"Same here vod… But everything will be alight now," Fives kneeled down to him, offering a hand which the medic quickly took.

"B-But, the ones who locked us up. They're-!" Cinder struggled with his words, but he didn't need to finish.

"We know… We know everything…" the Captain had a hard look in his eyes. "They're going to pay for it, trust me. They can't lie anymore…"

"The pets are still trying to sneak around. But at least they're being obedient," Grievous said as he watched the clones on the monitor. They were walking slowly and carefully, checking the halls and corridors.

"It's only natural. They believe they are escaping from the Jedi," Dooku had a smirk on his face as he looked at them.

"Um, sir?" a droid spoke up, turning in his chair.

"What is it?" the General growled, eyes narrowing.

"We have a ship entering our space."

"We did not request any supplies," this had the Count's attention.

"It's not one of ours, sir," the two leaders shared a quick look. "It's a Republic ship."

"Skywalker?!" they hissed in disbelieve and shock. "Surely he is not this mad!"

"I told you, Count!" Grievous was already leaving, likely heading for his own ship.

"This changes things…" Dooku put a hand on his beard. "However, I can work with it."

"And how would you do that?" the General stopped in front of the door.

"We will simply kill Skywalker. The clones will have their revenge sooner than they thought," he turned around, facing the cyborg. "But I shall require something from you, General."

He was walking right behind Rex, covering for Kix and Cinder, while Fives had their backs. They were going to make it… They were going to get out of this place and back home. He was just about to move, when the Captain put his arm out, stopping him.

"What is it?" he whispered, fear slowly creeping into his body. Behind him, the others stopped as well, waiting for an explanation.

"…We need to go back…" Rex sounded so distant, Jesse wasn't sure if he heard him right.

"What? Why? I thought we were escaping!" Fives was letting his anxious feelings show, looking over his shoulder for any enemies.

"Can't you hear it?" the blonde asked them, looking confused.

"Hear what?" Jesse asked before seeing Fives going slack.

"…Y-Yeah… I do," his eyes were distant for a few moments before focusing on them.

"I hear it…" Cinder nodded, blinking to regain himself.

"Kix?" Jesse asked, looking at the medic whose worry was written all over his face.

"I don't… I think," came his reply.

Just as Jesse was about to speak, he heard someone whisper. He didn't understand it at first, but after a few moments, the words became clear.

"Return to the bridge… The Jedi have called in reinforcements… I can help you," he was vaguely aware of Kix calling his name, before he too fell silent.

"Understand now?" Rex asked, waiting patiently for them.

"Yeah… We need to move," he nodded, shaking his head to regain his senses.

"And fast…" the medic's eyes went past the Captain, checking the hall.

"Ship in our sights sir," Jewels called, keeping the ship steady.

"Good. Get us in nice and easy…" Anakin had his hand on the seat, standing behind the pilot.

"…No one's attacking?" Cody's voice was laced with suspicion, arms crossed.

"Maybe they haven't noticed us?" Ahsoka frowned, not liking this.

"Doubtful…" Appo muttered next to her.

"If we know it's a trap, we'll be ready for them," Boil cracked his knuckles, ready to fight.

"How many do you think there are?" Tup suppressed a shudder at the number he imagined.

"R2, can you do a scan?" Skywalker turned to the droid, who beeped in return, poking an antenna out of his head. After a few seconds, he gave another answer.

"Six life forms and a couple of droids…" Ahsoka mused. She looked back at the ship, seeing it wasn't really that big, so there couldn't be more than maybe twenty of thirty droids. That, they could handle.

"…How many did you say were taken?" Anakin had a worried expression on his face.

"Six, sir," Tup spoke up before anyone else.

"…There are six people on board, and one of them is defiantly Dooku…" he didn't need to explain that for them to understand. The expression the brothers shared spoke for itself.

As they docked the ship, everyone was prepared for a fight. But there was no one. Not a single droid was present in the hanger bay.

"Jewels, stay with the ship. Who knows what kind of exit we'll need," Cody ordered as he stood on the ramp, waiting for the others to disembark.

"…Bring 'em home, okay?" Jewels looked at his brothers, eyes low.

"We will," Cody assured and set a hand on his shoulder.

"How do we find them now?" Tup asked, gripping the carbine tight.

"…Dooku is on the bridge…" Anakin said carefully, narrowing his eyes. "He's not even trying to hide his Force signature."

"He wants us to come to him," Ahsoka straightened her back, looking at him.

"Yeah, he does… But we're not here for him," the General let a frown show.

"The ship is too big to search randomly. Who knows where any clankers are hiding," Boil pointed out, checking the doors.

"If we can get the information from Dooku, it'd make looking for them much easier," Appo added, eyes scanning the place.

"If nothing else, the log in the bridge will help us. It's better than running around blind," Cody nodded, standing in front of the General.

"Fair enough. Everyone, get ready. We don't know what's waiting for us out there."

Cut! Right, next one is gonna be a blast! I got it planned out, just need to write it fully down and then polish it. Hope you'll enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing Oh, since I forgot to mention it before... "Ori'vod" is Mando'a for "Big brother" which I figure Fives sees Rex as (along with pretty much the rest of the 501st) so being as worried and scared (plus drugged) as he is, he'd call him that. Anyway, hope you all enjoyed this little bit and stick around for the next one! Fancy reviewing? Sweet! I love it when you do that! =D Till next time~

#my story #Echoy'la (Lost)#Verde' gehat'ik (Soldiers' story)#fives #captain rex #jesse #kix #count dooku #general grievous #ahsoka tano #anakin skywalker #commander cody #tup #appo #boil

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