#today should be her largest ever it's expected to be double the size of the mita crowd

[thoughts-reasons]

Like a rainbow with all of the colors

[jessiebanethedragon]

Scuttle, all chapters in one post

Thought it might be kinda nice to have the full story in one post... idk.  

The mission, simple. The planet, a shit show. But that's hardly unusual for Clone Force  99. The elite team of four clones were used to disasters, in fact, they thrive off of them. Arkanis was no different, a rainy planet located in the outer rim. Currently held under control via the separatists. The republic needed to change that, and so of course when their informant’s identity was leaked, they sent the most capable team they had to extract them. 

Enter - The Bad Batch. 

“Did you know this planet is made up of over 10,000 different species, all localized to it’s rainforest biosphere?” Tech was chattering as usual while the team geared up. Assembling their armour and double checking weapons before dropping out of hyped space. 

“How many of those wanna kill us?” Wrecker asked beyond the metallic thunk of his durasteel clicking into place. 

“Does not say, but given Arkanis’s tropical climate i would estimate that most of the life forms are plants.” Tech said clicking about on his holopad. 

“Vod, in here now.” The Sergeant called from the brig of the Havoc Murdader, having already assembled his armour and stashing away his viroblades. “Here's the info we got from Cody.” Hunter said, pulling up a  map of the planet’s capital. 

“It’s a kriffing death trap.” Crosshair barked out looking at the maze of intervening trees, houses and streets, all covered with various mosses, vines and other plants. 

“We’ll have to go solo on this one.” Hunter added. “We need to cover ground quickly  and quietly, remember this is an active warzone so while blasts will blend in we want minimal casualties.” With a flick of his hand he moved the holo so it showed a different area. 

“This is their last known coordinates, we’ll drop ten clicks from here and fan out. Tech?” Hunter looked to his brother, waiting for him to take over and tell them how to go about searching for the informant. 

“There's no choice but to head in all  directions, checking each house, that's our best bet, without a speeder they wont have been able to leave the city.”

“And if they did have a speeder?” Crosshair piped in, attaching an intricate looking scope to his rifle. 

“Well, then, I hope you like rain because we’re stuck there until we find the snitch.” Hunter added. “Wrecker, Tech, let's get this show going.” Crosshair watched his brother’s jump to the front of the ship, rolling the toothpick in his mouth around.

“Sarge.” He said, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

Like usual it was chucking it down on Arkanis, the sky was dark by midday and everyone was wrapped in layers of weather proof fabric. There was no wind today, no sunlight, just buckets and buckets of cooling rain. She watched as the droids started ushering people around, being pushed aside by one herself to make way for the spider droids that were crawling the city. She cursed herself for not noticing it sooner, the anxiety of getting caught was dulling her senses. Focus and precision were not things she could go without right now. 

“Yona!” Your mother called, when you had picked yourself up again. Crossing the uneven street with practiced ease. 

“I’m fine mama.” You assured her. She clutched to your clothing like a madwoman. Peering at the droids through the rain. 

“Return to your homes.” the closest one said, before pointing it’s blaster at the both of you. Causing you to latch onto your mother's arm and take off as  fast as you could down the street. 

You pushed the door to your small home open with your knees, the latch had long broken and the door itself did not slide open properly anymore. The tips and edges of your hair were soaked, eyelashes heavy and hands slightly shaking. 

“Papa?” you called into the emptiness that was your house, cold wooden floors and windows left open  allowing the rain to make its way inside. The seprastist propaganda was playing through the Holopad on the main table. 

“Yona.” he said softly, sitting on the chair in the main room. None of the lights were on, the warm glow of homeliness wasn't there, and a feeling of dread settled in your stomach. “What have you done?” he asked gravely. 

“What are you talking about?” You faked innocence, there was no way he could know, you’d been so careful in hiding the transmissions. Flicking the light switch on the biggest lamp in the room you began to shed your outer clothing. 

“Yona…” he started again, and you turned at his voice, shrieking when you saw the figure standing at the end of the room. 

“I have to say…” General Krexx hissed out, the separatists trandoshan calmly turned towards you. “I’m almost impressed by how long you managed to remain undetected, little republican.” Without thinking you turned to the door and bolted out into the rain, weaving through the rocks and foliage as fast  as you could. 

“Go on, scuttle away little roach. Get a good head start.” Krexx laughed, before reaching to his communicator to hail his trandoshan guard. “You’ll need it.” 

Crosshair quickly decides he likes the rain. It’s got a way of blending in so nicely with the rest of the planet that he thinks it would be bland without it.

“Anything?” Hunter asked into the comms, and various grunts and groans of ‘negative’ filled his ear. They’d landed in what looked like an abandoned house, it was situated in the branches of a very tall, and very old tree. How anyone would have managed to climb it was a mystery. 

“How do we even know what we’re lookin’ for?” Wrecker grumbled as they rapelled down the enormous trunk. 

“All we’ve got is that they answer to the name Wren apparently its some animal on this planet.” Hunter grumbled, looking over a tech, expecting a lengthy explanation of what exactly a ‘Wren’ was. 

“Fairywren are small birds that  live in typical families of small groups, they come in brilliant colours of purple and blue. Very rare in the galaxy, but common to this planet.” Tech immediately replied, as their feet crunched into the ground. 

“Okay, Bad batch, let's make this quick.” The sergeant ordered before taking off into the undergrowth. 

It had been hours and they were no closer to coming across anyone or  anything that looked like a Fairywren. Keeping to the outskirts of a small town crosshair watches as a group of Trandoshian guards (from the look of their intense armour) patrolled the streets. 

“What are they doing?” he thought aloud to himself, toothpick ever present in his mouth. His concentration broke when he heard someone laughing at him. A group of teenagers were sitting under a broken piece of metal. 

“What does it look like, Laserbrain?” one of them sneered. “The trandoshans are only good for one thing. The hunt.” Crosshair doubled his pace. 

You were running faster than you ever had before, and for longer than you thought was physically possible. Your one and only advantage was the extent of your knowledge of the forest paths. The guards would be faster and run longer, they had keener senses than any human, and you knew if they put out a warrant, anyone and everyone would turn you in. But you were so close. So, so close. 

It was called the Night Lake by the locals, the canopy here was so dense no light illuminated the water below, giving the area a terrifying essence. But also ensured much needed privacy, and in this particular case, somewhere to hide. You threw yourself into the waters, letting the slightly chilly water envelop you. At least four of them had been on your tail and you knew more of them were waiting at the edge of the city, should you try and circle back. 

You swam as deep as you could manage, before stilling in the water, suspended in perfect anxiety as you watched its surface for any movement. Flares began to light up the dark sky and the water below as they tried to clear the area for your whereabouts. Closing your eyes you prayed to anything listening for them not to find you. 

Turns out. No one was listening. 

Crosshair was sprinting in the forest, creatures disturbed by his arrival scattered in every direction. The Trandoshians had taken off moments before answering a call that he couldn't interpret. But his experience and intuition told him to follow. 

It was then that he faltered and fell down the edge of a small but very muddy hill, being followed only by more water filled dirt that almost buried him. Cursing he pulled himself up, checking his whereabouts for signs of a trap. 

“So small for such trouble.” Something hissed to his right, clearly unaware of the clone that had just tumbled into their presence. His eyes snapped forward, four trandoshians sat at the edge of what was the largest and darkest lake Crosshair had ever seen. 

“Shall we let her drown or yank her out ourselves?” One asked with a snicker. 

“The general wants her alive, something about having fun while making an example.” The first one spoke again. “Right, enough is enough, Drisk get her out of there.” with a nod towards the water, Crosshair watched as the slimmest trandoshan (who was probably still twice the size of the sniper) dove into the black waters. The ripples dissipated for a moment before the reptile emerged carrying a struggling young girl. She was sopping wet, and struggling and turning so much they had no choice but to dump her in the mud. 

“Now, now little roach, don't run off.” The leader laughed as she started to claw her way through the mud, reaching down he grasped her ankle and yanked her into the arms of the other two reptilians. Crosshair lined up his rifle, he could take out the two grasping the girl and then worry about the leader after. He had the trandoshans in his sight when his comm crackled to life again. 

“Crosshair, you missed your check in time, you still out there?” it was Tech, curse him and his punctuality. Because now the other two huge beings were dragging him out of his hiding place. 

“Well, would you take a look at this. A clone!” Crosshair was forced to his knees in front of the leader as it spat at him.   

“Crosshair! Come in!” Tech shouted into the helmet, thus resulting in it’s not-so gentle removal from Crosshairs head. He watched as Tech’s voice faded away as the bucket rolled into the lake. 

“Now that the rude interruption is gone, you wanna tell us whatcha up to in these parts?” he said kneeling down and meeting his newest captive eye to eye.

“Bird watching.” Crosshair deadpanned. Really not feeling in a chatty mood at that present moment.  

“Really?” The reptile hummed in thought, pretending to actually believe his answer. “Have you seen any birds yet?” 

“No.” Crosshair told  him with a smile, “Saw some Bantha-shit - looking lizards though.” He didn't see the flying fist coming, but he sure as hell felt it. 

You clamp you both of your hands over your mouth. Hard. in the smallest attempt to muffle your screams. You can't tell the difference from lake water, rain water, and tears. But you know you’re wailing at an unforgiving volume. Your mother's blank eyes stare at you. A single blaster to the head. Your father, you got a blaster to the face is now unrecognizable. You don’t know which is worse. Krexx didn't even bother to keep you restrained, knowing that the horror of what he made you witness would be enough to paralyze you into compliance. The sound of conflict falls on deaf ears as you continue to shriek from your converter of what once was the family home. 

The Clone, whose name you either didn't know or couldn't remember, was cuffed to one of the ceiling's support beams by a pair of binders, only just coming to a hit to the head like that will do you in. you watch him lift  his head with a groan, the tattoo on his face covered by layers of mud. He starts pulling at the binders before his eyes meet the figure in the corner. 

You’re curled in a fetal position, still screaming bloody murder into your hands. And barely, Crosshair sees that the fingerless gloves you wear are embroidered with a bird. A bright blue bird. 

“Wren.” He grunted out, the pieces all coming together as his brain shakes the fuzz away. You don't move. “Wren!” he shouts over your tears. And you fall into more of a silent sob, looking over at him. “I need you to get these off of me.” he gestures to the binders with a shake of his hands. You recoil in the corner and shake your head, your cries are picking up volume again. 

“Wren, please” Crosshair all but begs. The sound of battle is getting closer and closer. “I need you to uncuff me.” his voice  barely registers in your brain. You know you have to move but you feel like you physically can't. There’s no fight or flight left in you, and it appears your entire system has short circuited as a result.   

“We are both going to die if you don’t get me out of  these kriffin’ binders!” Crosshair renewed his struggles as he shouts at you. But one look at you says that would be a preferable outcome for your current state. So, he switches tactics and tries to remember everything tech has ever told him about shock and trauma. 

“Wren,” he tries once again, softer this time. “I can help you, I can help you out of this. But i can't do that if you don't get these off of me.” Your eyes meet his. ‘Progress’ he thinks. You don't know how you do it, but you try to stand. 

“Just keep looking at me, okay?” The clone who you don't know speaks again, and your eyes meet his. You stare not into his eyes, more like past them. You're not focusing on anything you're just taking one step after another until you reach where he’s awkwardly strewn up. “There's a release button on the-” He starts to tell you, but you're already reaching up with shaky hands and fumbling around until they drop to the floor with a horrible clank. Immediately Crosshair jumps into action checking by each window and door and gathering all he can in terms of intel. 

“We need to move, before anyone-” he trails off again when he’s seen that you’ve slid down the wall that he was against. Curling back into a ball. Slowly, he approaches you. He knows the protocol for a clone with shock, but what you're going through looks completely different all together. And Crosshair, well, let's just say there was never any training for caring for a civilian girl whose entire life just got destroyed. 

“My name is Crosshair.” He whispers to you, crouching down to our height. You look at him with wide eyes. “Is it okay if I carry you to a safer spot?” You nod in response fumbling with your arms to lock them around his tall frame. His strength surprises you, as he lifts you with relative ease. And slowly the adrenaline wears off and you sink into his arms, vaguely you feel him pull your head into his shoulder the blasts sound deafening now as he runs through the uproar caused by the execution of an innocent family. Your family. Crosshair tells himself he pulls you closer so that you are not recognized. And that he does it so you don't have to see that carnage. But mostly he does it in hopes that you feel just a little more safe, and a little more calm in his arms.   

You don't remember passing out in the troopers arms, waking only when he sets you down, in front of the tree that's all too familiar to you. It’s raining  even more now and Crosshair feels particularly inadequate as he paces in front of you. What do you tell someone who’s just lost everything? 

“Crosshair…” Your voice is quite as you say his name, he whips around at the sound, terrified someone had followed him into the forest. He waits for your next words, and it takes a moment but a small ‘thank you’ leaves your mouth. He nods and goes back to pacing in front of you. 

The crashing sound breaks both of you out of your perspective trances. Something is moving towards you, and quickly. In response, you haul yourself up off of the rainforest floor. Looking to the man in front of you for direction. 

“It’s fine.” He tells you, monotone. “Jus’ Wrecker.” You’re not sure what a Wrecker is, but quickly you discover a Wrecker happens to be Crosshair's older and much bigger brother. 

“Crosshair!” He booms, when he clears the undergrowth, clapping a rather large hand on  his shoulder, and you watch as the trooper takes a step backwards. ‘Not one for touchy-feels’ you think to yourself. 

“Ran into some trouble, bucket got chucked in a lake.” He explains. “Couldn't com in.” this ears him a boisterous laugh from Wrecker. 

“Accident prone as always.” He chuckles, before turning away to, presumably tell his comrades he's found Crosshair. You on the other hand, had backed up into the tree bark whilst watching this interaction. Crosshair is watching you watch Wrecker, and he wishes he could pick you up again, just to feel your heartbeat go from crazy to calm as you relaxed in his arms. It would be so much easier than talking or trying to talk,  to just scoop you up and  hide you from the world.  

“Tech and Hunter are only a few clicks out.” Wrecker says to Crosshair, subtle nudging him as if to say, ‘stop staring bro, you’ll spook her.’  Before moving over to you, and bringing his hand out, watching as you recoil more into the branches. Wrecker takes the hint, and  takes his helmet off before trying to shake your hand again. This time you let him, offering a small ‘hello’ in return. 

“You must be Fairywren.” He says, and you confirm the guess with a nod. “Cool name, much cooler than Crosshair.” He smiles at you, and you immediately decide that his talent, even with all the muscle, is undying kindness and radiating happy energy. Crosshair scoffs at his brother. 

“I hate to disappoint but it's just a nickname.” You’re still smiling a little, your old self shining through for that brief moment. 

“Still” He assures you, “it’s way better than any of ours!” You decide to lose yourself in the moment of happiness. Firing back at him with a:

“Oh I don't know, Crosshair isn’t that bad.” Wrecker laughs again, and you see Crosshair pause as he lifts a toothpick to his mouth, a small smile in the shadow of his tall figure. 

“Wrecker” he draws out that voice, so different to any other clone. He gestures to the forest edge he’d been watching as the leaves and twigs break and moves as Tech and Hunter join the three of you. They exchange words, far enough away from you that you don't hear them. A few glances thrown your way. And Crosshair starts to look more and more unimpressed. Breaking from the group with a grumble, and heading over to you, opting to lean against the tree with you. 

“Tech’s the small one.” He whispers to you. “Sergeant Hunter has the ridiculous hair.” rolling the toothpick in his mouth, you look up at him. 

“Why are you telling me this?” you're not trying so rude, but you're genuinely curious.

“I’m telling you, because you’re going to be putting up with them for the foreseeable future.” He sounds a tad annoyed but you don’t push further.  

“You named after the tattoo?” You ask without thinking. Tracing it with your eyes, giving them something to do other than tear up in panic. 

“Got it after.” He responds, and from that you can gather he’s not very social, but what you need right now is a distracted mind, so you decide to test your luck. 

“Why Crosshair though? Like I get it's your name but like why?”  You want to curse at how stupid you sound, but, the adrenaline has totally warn off now and your brain feels like goo.  

“Sniper.” He says blankly, turning around so you see  the huge rifle strapped to his back. 

“Oh…” you say, finally connecting the dots. “Well i'm called Fairywren after-”

“The birds, I know.” Crosshair  interrupts, before moving away from you as the rest of the group breaks apart from what you're guessing was a debrief? Taking small steps towards them, taking in how different they all are. 

“Sergeant Hunter, at your service.” The one with longer hair says, shaking your hand. You take note of his face tattoo as well and wonder if he got his with Crosshair. 

“Wren, thanks for the save.” You introduce yourself, not pausing to think where you’d be without them.

“No problem,” Hunter says, his voice is deeper than Crosshairs but no less gruff. “Shall we get off this kriffing rock?” Turning around to his group, taking in their nods, before scaling the tree. 

The Havoc Marauder isn't exactly what you expected, but then again you don't know what you expected it to be like.  Maybe a bit more cluttered than it actually is but you like it nevertheless. 

“How many species are on this planet?” The clone named Tech asks you, he's the only one that hasn't introduced himself to you, but you're guessing it's only because his brain is working a million parsecs a second. 

“I'm not actually sure,” You say, feeling guilty as his face drops. “There's a number of overall species and all but the variations are so unique it's hard to classify them.” You quickly add, watching his eyes light up.

“So why the Fairywren then?” He asks after a lengthy (and largely one sided) conversation of evolution in rainforest species. You feel Crosshair's eyes on you, tuning back into the conversation off and on again as he took or lost interest. 

“My grandmother once told me that the Fairywrens kept guard on your heart.” You tell him, and you see Crosshair lean forward on his knees to hear better. “She said that every Fairywren watches over someone, they keep them safe. She said my Fairywren was the brightest one there ever was because of how much she loved me.” Tech stays silent taking in the story, and Crosshair seems to be frozen in place. You don't realize that he’s realizing how stunning you are and kicking himself for not seeing it sooner. Of course you're the Fairywren, bright blue and so beautiful it almost seems fake. 

“How do you know Krexx.” Hunter asks walking into the brig area where you had been sitting. And you freeze at the name, Crosshair glares at his sergeant for bringing him up, he hates the way your face falls at the mention of his name. 

“He took over when the separatists showed up, and he was put in charge of keeping everyone in line.” You snap.

“Hunter, maybe we should-” Crosshair starts but he gets interrupted. 

“How many Trandoshans were on your planet?” Hunter interrupts, and if you didn't think Crosshair could glare any harder than he was, you were very mistaken. 

“At least a hundred.” You tell him. “Less now.” 

“Why less now?” Tech jumps in, and his honest interest makes you smile a little. 

“I used to catalog plants when I was a kid, my dad kept journals, because he was a healer. So it was like a hobby of ours.” You explain, “Trandoshans don’t take too well to plant venom apparently.” 

“Genius” Tech breathes and you can't help but flush. 

“Any chance of a tail?” Hunter asks, and this time Crosshair interrupts. 

“No, checked the whole way back to the ship and then some.” His voice sounds taught, like he's about to snap. 

“Good, either way, I'll take the first watch, I don't want any missteps here. Get some rest.” He nods to you all, and even though it's nowhere near close to nighttime you don't argue. Wrecker passes by and ruffles your hair saying “g’night little bird.” Tech offers you a mock salute that makes you smile, before heading to where you assume the bunks are. 

“Extra bunk is down the hall. Door on the left.” Crosshair tells you standing up, and the air seems to shift, you feel lonely thinking about him leaving. So you follow him, hoping he’ll stay up just a little longer with you. He stops in front of what you guess is his door. And you thank every god  out there that it's across from the empty one. You see that there's no blankets in the empty bunk. 

“Need anything?” he asks, and he almost cringes by how rude it sounds. ‘Sure’ he thinks to himself. ‘Be rude to the sopping wet, traumatized girl in front of you, good one Cross.” You turn back to him. 

“No it's okay, i'll get blankets from Hunter or just snoop around until I find them.” You joke, Rubbing the back of your neck as the man in front of you sighs and rolls the toothpick in his mouth around. 

“Stay here.” He says, a little softer, disappearing into his room. In reality he wants nothing more to let you into his room, to drop that cold exterior he’s created. But he already knows he's no good for you. Crosshair slips out his door again with a blanket. 

“Wrecker will be passed out already, Hunter doesn't use blankets and Tech has what he calls the ‘mathematical epiphany of correct blanket weight, fluffiness and size’ to ensure a proper sleep. So the only extra one around is this.” He states, holding out a black fluffy blanket that looks so cozy you want to cry. You take it from him silently, subtly bury your face in it so you can tell if it feels the same way his shoulder does. It's softer but smells the same, and you can't wait to burrito yourself in it. Crosshair has turned away, going crazy as he sees you snuggle into something that's not him.    

“Crosshair,” you call as his door slides open again. “Thank you.” And before you can embarrass yourself you slide into the extra room. 

“You’re welcome.” He whispers even though he knows you won't hear it. 

You wake to the sound of a very angry sniper. And even though his default setting is angry, he seems more perturbed than usual. Muffled voices can be heard from outside the small bunk area that you’ve already made your personal space. Wet, destroyed clothes sit on the floor in the corner and you’re wrapped only in Crosshairs blanket, save for your undergarments. You swing your legs over and plant them on the cold metal floor.  As you reach the door, the  voices become clearer.

“Absolutely not.”  - That's Crosshair for sure, only he would be so blunt. 

“I wasn't asking for your permission Crosshair, only your opinion.” The other voice is more of a long sigh at this point. The exhaustion and caring sound to it tells you it’s Hunter. For clones they are all remarkably different you think to yourself. 

“Yeah and my opinion is ‘no’.” Crosshair snaps. 

“The seppies will come after her whether you like it or not.” He counters. 

“Which is why we can’t take her into bounty hunter territory!” You freeze as you realize they mean you. Panic settles in when you come to terms with the idea of being ditched on some degenerate planet with non resources whatsoever. You retreat back into the bunk, pulling the blanket closer to your frame. 

“Just get her up.” Hunter finishes and you hear him tread back down the halfway of the ship. Crosshair grumbles something about not being in charge of you before the door slides open. He’s shocked to see you sitting up and awake, and his eyes rest on the pile of clothes on the floor before meeting yours. His blanket looks far better on you than it has in all his years of owning it.

“Food’s up.” He says before turning to leave. Less time spent interacting with you the better. Means less time for him to stare at the one exposed shoulder that the blanket has fallen off of and less time to wonder if you’d ever spare someone like him a second glance. 

“Where are you dumping me?” He hears a small voice ask. And all the warmth leaves  his body. 

“We aren't…” He starts, not turning around. Because if he doesn’t turn around he can claim ignorance if you're crying or not. 

“I heard you and Hunter and i’m not stupid.” You interrupt him, voice void of any emotion. 

“Then you'd know i'm not going to let him do that.” He snaps, almost angry at you for thinking he’d leave you on your own. 

“I’m deadweight, aren't I?” It's a question you know the answer to but have to ask anyways. You want to scream at the republic, for using your intel and then throwing you away. Taking advantage of your selflessness and empathy, just like they take advantage of  the clones caring and giving nature at every opportunity. 

“You’re not deadweight.” Crosshair states, leaving no room for argument, “You just need  to be somewhere off the grid for a while.” He hears you stand, and slowly he turns his head, his blanket bunched awkwardly around your frame. His jaw clenches as his heart pulls at strings he swore weren't there. 

“Crosshair…” You start, but don’t continue, words escape you, the right ones don’t exist in that moment. Or at least you can't bring yourself to use the ones you want to. So instead, you opt to blankly stare at the metal floor. He will leave eventually, turn and head out the door. You’re not his problem, your brain explains this as the floor becomes more and more interesting.  Except he doesn't go. And the very tips of his fingers meet your chin, gently pulling your head to meet his glance.  

God his eyes are stunning, you think, before cursing your brain for being in the totally wrong place at the wrong time. But his eyes might be the prettiest you’ve ever seen. Light brown with hints of ashy tones. 

“I won't leave you on your own.” He tells you, but what you want to hear is that he will stay with you. You're already inexplicably attached to the sniper, it's unbearable. 

“Thank you.” You whisper to him breathless just from being this close to him. 

“Now come on, or Wrecker will have eaten everything before you even get out there.” Crosshair cocks his head towards the door, pulling away from you. 

The members of the hold greet you excitedly, Wrecker seems to have really taken to calling you little bird as well as patting your head affectionately. And you find yourself sat wedge in between him and Tech while they both talk your ear off. Hunter is smiling and eating in contentment of his little family and Crosshair is starring, you fit so nicely in this scene. Wrecker piling more and more food on your plate while you laugh at Techs retelling of one of their ridiculous missions. 

“Tell er’ about Nal Hutta!” Wrecker says with an evil smile.

“Don’t you dare.” Crosshair snaps at his vod, who's already laughing his blacks off. 

“It wasn't that bad Cross.” Hunter admits grabbing some empty dishes and patting his shoulder as he walks by. 

“Yes it was!” Wrecker says between wheezes. And you notice the faint flush in his cheeks. 

“Okay one of you needs to spill the details.” You demand looking from Tech to Wrecker. 

“Well, as you probably know Nal Hutta is run by the infamous Hut cartel…” Tech launches off, waving his hands about as he talks. (you've picked this up as one of his biggest habits.) 

“Tech…” Crosshair groans with his face in one of his hands before giving in and leaning back. Preparing for the worst. 

“I can't tell you all the details, classified and all, but the important part is that Cross was working recon and cover, like usual. So he's up this step mountain that's basically all dirt and sand. Looking for this Hut fellow right, and before we can warn him Wrecker throws this thermal detonator and the whole side of the mountain collapses.” Tech tells you excitedly. And your worried eyes look across the table. Crosshair had moved so he could lean back with his arms behind his head looking just a tad embarrassed. 

“He would've been fine, if he hadn't gone rolling right through the window of the house he was collecting intel on.” Wrecker was killing himself laughing by this point. 

“And then the… the” He tried to get out between gasps of air before waving it off and letting Tech continue. 

“And well, sorry Cross, there's no easy way to say this.” Tech laughed a little himself. “He rolled right in on a Hutt reproducing session.” Your eyes went as wide as they could, and a hand covered your gaping and giggling mouth. 

“Wait, so Crosshair burst in on two Hutts doing it?” You gasped, trying to stifle your growing laughter. 

“Gets worse.” The man in question grit out, looking at the mess of comrades before him. 

“How does that get worse?” you exclaimed, leaning into Wrecker with his contagious laughter. Tech turned to you, smiling wider than ever. 

“Hutts reproduce asexually.” He stated, “scientists don't know too much about it but from the condition we found this one in.” he pointed to a grumpy Crosshair. “It gets real messy.” You closed your mouth into a thin line, blinking as you tried not to laugh. 

“Oh…” giggle “no, Crosshair…” More giggles. “That must’ve been awful.” You tried to emphasize you really did, but the look on the snipers face had you laughing all over again. 

“He was covered head to toe in green Hutt goo!”  Wrecker boomed. 

“Well it’s nice to know yet another finds my torment hilarious.” Crosshair grumbled as he stood up to escape the laughing hyenas before him. 

“No!” you objected, “I promise I am not finding this the least bit funny.” You told him, trying to keep a straight face. Receiving a sarcastic ‘um hum’ reply. 

“I mean it, you could have been seriously injured.” You countered, thinking you had successfully hidden your smile beneath your hand. 

“I can see you smiling.” He said, raising an eyebrow at you.

“You could've drowned in Hutt goo…” You quietly said with another round of giggles. 

“Ahhh yes CT-7733 of Clone Force 99 killed in action on Nal hutta, death caused by drowning in Hutt goo.” Tech snickered from beside you. 

“He will be dearly missed, and as an apology the Hutt has named the child in his honour.”  You added taking note of Crosshairs millionth eye roll of that morning alone. 

“Okay that's enough of that now.” He said. “Wren, you want clothes or are you spending the rest of your life in my blanket?” He teases, watching you blush a tad. 

“I don't take life advice from a man covered in goo.” You shoot back with the biggest smirk on your face. 

“No clothes for you then.” he smiled as your protests began. 

“Okay, okay, calm down, don’t get your goo in a tuffle.” You say maneuvering yourself from with the blanket and over Wrecker who's still chuckling to himself.  

Down back in your makeshift room, Crosshair shows you where the extra clothes are kept, which means you’ll be swimming in extra sets of blacks all meant for clones that are bigger  than yourself. But you think your pants may survive given a good enough wash, so for now you roll the waistband and the legs until you look somewhat presentable. Greeting crosshair on the other side of the door.  

“See,”  He says, “told ya’ it would fit.” Before he turns from you and starts to walk back down the hall. 

“Wait Crosshair!” You call jogging over to him, a look of fau-concentration on your face as you reach up to where his short hair meets his right ear. Carefully running your fingers through it. He knows his heart has either stopped beating or hammering so fast he can’t feel it. 

“There, all good now.” you declare patting his cheek a few times. hoping he inquires as to why you just hand you hand in his hair. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before deciding on: 

“What was that for?” and if there was an inter-galactic clone flirting competition, Crosshair just lost. You grin up at him, pure evil  in your eyes. 

“Oh no reason,”You say walking past. “Just a little leftover Hutt goo.” 

Tech finds your fascination with hyperspace fascinating. You seem to spend hours sitting by whichever window you have chosen for that moment, watching the universe whizz by. Sometimes he sits with you, and you both talk about your theories for explaining the galaxy. He learns that your parents never left your home world once you were born and nicknamed you Yona after the rain that poured down so often. He mentions it offhand to Crosshair and catches him whispering it to himself later that day. Tech himself sticks to calling you Fairywren, while Wrecker has committed to little bird, Hunter goes with Fairywren like Tech but Crosshair has decided on not using your name or any of the many nicknames the bad batch have for you. 

In fact, he’s starting avoiding you all together. 

You flit around the ship like a plague according to him, Hunter and Tech can’t figure out why the sniper has such a disdain for everything you do but it’s getting out of hand.

“When do we drop out of hyperspace?” He asks one day while you’re perched in the cockpit staring out the window, away from the current conversation. 

“Soon.” Hunter states his focus on his holopad, receiving instructions from Cody about laying low. 

“How soon?” Crosshair presses, keeping an eye on the door that separates you from hearing him. 

“Doesn’t matter.” Hunter says, getting slightly annoyed with his brother, not to be dramatic but you’re literally a joy to have around. All the batchers love you to bits and Hunter is frustrated that Crosshair is being a spoilsport. 

“It matters to me.” 

“Yeah we get it. You can't stand Fairywren, because she’s the problem and you can't wait to get rid of her.” Hunter snaps, putting his holopad down.  “Just days ago you were all over  her, what happened to ‘we aren't leaving her’?” He’s staring at Crosshair, enhanced sense burning into his soul.   

“Just a little leftover Hutt goo.”  You’d said to him, not that he’d heard, his face was on fire, burned from where you had touched it. And he is surprised he didn't flinch away from your touch, had he become that accustomed to you already? Was Crosshair so entranced by you in  such a short amount of time that he was already missing your touch? No. He doesn't  know you. You don't know him. He’s memorized every part of your face, but you don’t matter to him. His heart seems to beat for every smile you give him. But you have no effect on the sniper. Every shot he takes is one to protect you from anymore trauma. But he doesn't give a damn about your feelings. Love at first sight doesn't exist, soulmates are fake. And even if they did Crosshair doesn't want it. 

Kamino broke him, being defected, trained and thrown away for your one purpose does that to person. He tells himself to hate you for putting him back together.

“Nothing changed.  But we aint a charity.” He tells his sergeant, who absolutely knows he is lying. But because he doesn't know why he’s lying, Hunter lets the conversation drop, but mostly because he can hear you get up from the co-pilot's seat and head towards the door. 

“Wrecker says we’re dropping out of hyperspace soon.” You report, popping your head out of the door. “Says it'll look cool.” You add with a blush. Hunter chuckles a tad and says something about going to let Tech know. Leaving you to stare at Crosshair. 

“Ram'ser” you say all of a sudden, slow and precise, testing out the word and being very careful of  your pronunciation. 

“What?” Crosshair spits, more surprised than malicious. Since when did you speak mando’a?

“Tech likes to talk to me in phrases of mando’a  and have me guess what they mean.” you explain slowly. “He uses that word when he talks about you.” 

“Yeah? Good for him.” Crosshair is glaring at his reflection in the table. He hates this, he wants to hate you. He can’t stand the way the words come out of his mouth, but his head reminds him that you will be safest far away from the war. And that means he can't catch feelings and any that have slipped through must be thrown away. He hears the door slip closed as you retreat to watch the stars again. Tech and Hunter follow moments later, Hunter looking down at his vod with a sigh. Stupid enhanced hearing. He heard every word. 

You land on a desert planet you already can't remember the name of, but apparently it’s a neutral system and a good place to lay low. The sand dunes make you frown because they go as far as the eye can see, and Tech makes you take a spare pair of goggles and a makeshift hooded cape that was fashioned out of a lightweight tarp from the hold. That combined with your clean (albeit mud stained) pants and an oversized shirt you fit right in with the mess of inhabitants on the planet. 

“You’ll get itchy.” Hunter tells you when he sees that you’ve sat yourself in the sand and are now in the process of burying your legs in the strange stuff. 

“Sorry, I’ve just never really seen this stuff.” you apologize but Hunter waves it off with a smile. 

“It’s okay, just a heads up. Stuff gets everywhere.” You reluctantly pull yourself out of the sand, joining everyone by the edge of the sand dune, looking over at the nearby city in the distance. 

“So what haven't you guys seen?” You ask as you struggle to walk down the intense slope. 

“We don’t see a lot of water usually.” Tech says, “but only because not many species can survive underwater.” 

“If you could go anywhere, where would you go?” The bad batch is used to your barrage of questions. It’s one of the things they like most about having you around, from favourite colours to wild would you rather questions, your brain is always humming with things to discover. 

“Somewhere small and quiet.” Hunter says quickly, the light, heat and everything else already giving him a headache. 

“Coruscant.” Tech answers, the complete opposite of his brother. “Libraries and the Jedi temple.” He explains further. 

“Kamino.” Wrecker says, surprising you. You had assumed they all hated it there. “Home is home.” He explains with a smile. Crosshair doesn't say anything, but he can feel the eyes on him. 

“What?” He says to the four faces looking at him. 

“Cross would go to Hoth, because it’s cold.” Wrecker sasses him with a slight push. 

“Shut up Wrecker.” he snaps, in a very bad mood today. 

“Or anywhere his cyare is.” Wrecker adds without thinking. Making Hunter, you and Tech very confused. That's a word you haven't heard from Tech before and both him and hunter are trying to figure out who Wrecker is talking about while Crosshair looks like he’s actually going to explode. 

“What did you just say?” He says each word is its own sentence. 

“Cross has a cyare?” Tech is now thinking out loud (another habit of his) “no way Cross has a cyare we would know if he did. I mean we are with him all the time so it’s not like we wouldn’t know them or have met them…” His rambling fades into the background when Wrecker speaks up again. 

“Wait Tech, Sarge? You two seriously didn't notice?” He asks, shocked that his clever brothers hadn't picked it up. 

“Wrecker, shut your trap.” Crosshair orders, and a very tense silence falls over the group, and you’re only a third of the way to the city. You decide to ask Tech what the word means later.  And the now very awkward walk continues, that is until a speeding starts  to approach you from the town. 

“Bad batch! Defensive positions!” Hunter calls to them, and within seconds they have their helmets on. except for Cross whose helmet is still in the bottom of that lake, but has a new one waiting for him at base. But either way they’re all ready for combat in record time, leaving you to stand awkwardly in the middle of them hand by where you keep the small knife that's always by your side. 

“Civi’s!” Tech calls, having analyzed the people within the speeder, it’s a Twi’lek woman with a young child. She does, however, raise a blaster before addressing  the group.

“Saw the ship land. Thought someone or something might need help.” She says, eying the group suspisously. “Clones eh?” She adds. “Can't be here. Neutral system.”  She lowers the blaster. 

“We just need a few days.” Hunter says, taking his helmet off. 

“Perhaps you didn't hear me.” She’s more aggressive now. “You can’t be here. One day or a hundred, we don't care. Get gone.” You step forward. 

“Hunter we should go.” You whisper, looking at the mother and her young one. 

“Kriff,” The twi’lek sighs when she sees you. “Huxx has already got a bounty on her.” She looks at you with pity. 

“Thought you said this was a neutral planet.” Crosshair snaps. 

“Bounty is a bounty, no matter who’s side it’s for.” She says shaking her head. She pauses thinking for a minute. “All i can offer you is the fact that any planets around here  will  have been given the same information.” 

“What if I had credits?” You ask, it’s dangerous. But you know if one person saw you and more must know by now.  

“You’d need a lot of credits and a really stupid person to let you camp out here. Especially with clones” she says, beginning to bargain. 

“What about credits, a nice person, and no clones?” You counter taking a pouch out of your pants pockets. 

“That might work. For a couple days that is.” She agrees. 

“Absolutely not.” Hunter interrupts. “We aren't leaving you.” ignoring someone with a sniper rifle mumbling ‘hypocrite’ under his breath. 

“The name’s Leeya” she tells you, ignoring Hunter. 

“Yona.” You reply, moving to hop in the speeder, but stopped by Hunter's hand. 

“This isn't happening.” He says firmly. 

“Get in the speeder and tell your very angry friends to find something to wear other than armour.” Leeya smiles softly at you.

“We’ll be back soon.” Tech speaks up, very nervous, just as the rest of his batch. 

“I know,” You tease, “who else is gunna listen to you if i’m not around?” He laughs a little, and you hug him goodbye, before wrapping your arms around Hunter and Wrecker in turn. Crosshair doesn't move. 

“See ya around.” He says, turning away, and there’s a crack forming in your heart. You know he’s been different recently, you know he’s just putting up with you. But you thought there was something there. The present evidence seems to prove you wrong. Wrecker’s looking between you and Crosshair in disbelief. He sees you swallow tears and he snaps. 

“Wrecker!” Crosshair all but screams as he’s lifted into the air by his brother. Of course he heard him stomp up behind him but he definitely wasn't expecting to be snatched from where he stood. 

“She’s your kriffing cyare!” He booms, before unceremoniously shoving Crosshair down into the sand in front of you. It would be funny if you weren't so shocked by Wreckers actions. Crosshair pulls himself up and whips around, arm cocked ready to throw a punch. The hardest glare you’ve ever seen on his face. But it falls when you gently take hold of his arm. 

He’s taken back to the night he kissed you, and you begged him to keep the nightmares at bay.  He blinks and he’s taken back to the morning he woke with you in his arms. All at once  he remembers and forgets why he was pushing you away.

“Crosshair…” You start, but he pulls you into a crushingly tight hug before you finish. Nose to your hair, and your hands around his neck. Like they were made to be there. 

“I-I” he starts what would be an apology that he knows won't be enough. 

“It’s okay,” you interrupt. “Just be back soon.” and in a haze he watches you pull away from him and get into the speeder. 

“But I promised…” He whispers to himself. “I promised not to leave you…” you’re becoming a speck on the horizon, and he should be happy, he doesn't have to torture himself by refusing to love you anymore. 

Except part of him knows, as he feels his heart get torn from his chest, the real torture has just begun. 

You see him in your dreams. His corpse, destroyed in front of you. And when you wake with a start, on the dusty planet, in another woman's home, he isn't there to comfort you. Leeya is usually up and so you find her in the kitchen pottering around. You spend those nights cradling her infant child, trying to stop his incessant crying. And you learn that the day she met you she was looking for her husband. Who apparently has been missing for quite some time.

They’ve been gone seven rotations and the nightmares and shakes are getting worse, wrecker isn't here to make you laugh, tech isn't here to drown your thoughts out with ones of his own. Hunter Isn't here to take notice of the smallest changes in your well being. And Crosshair, well, Crosshair isn't here either. But you miss the eternity of him. 

Mostly you miss his arms, strong enough to hold you tight but soft enough to cradle the tears away. Wrapping around you away from the universe. An addicting drug at its finest and you’ve only had one hit. 

It was late, late enough that you thought no one was awake. Having been travelling through hyperspace with the Batch for 12 regular rotations of 24 hours, you’ve taken to having panic attacks alone in your room, or pacing around the ship when everyone is asleep, pushing away the memories of a family you once had. 

“You should be asleep.” Comes the long drawl from the sniper, toothpick in  his mouth, wearing only his blacks. You jump back, scared of the sudden noise.  

“I’m sorry.” The apology is immediate. 

“Don’t be.” He states, looking at you, wrapped up in his blanket like usual, he wonders if it smells like you.

“You’re shaking.” He notes with concern, standing up from his  spot and crossing over to you. 

“I just do that sometimes.” You admit, trying your hardest not to bring attention  to the problem. 

“Before we met?” You know what he’s insinuating, did you have a habit of shaking before your parents died. 

“Yes.” A lie floods so easily from your lips. 

“Promise?” He doesn't believe you, he’s heard stories about the famous fairywren from regs on corosaunt. You were basically famous for heroics and intel, and he’s pretty sure someone like that doesn't shake. You don’t answer him, staring at a spot on the wall behind his shoulder in the hopes you can fake eye contact. You hear him sigh, before his arms encase you. 

Once they do, you begin to shake in earnest. From head to toe as if now your mind knows it’s safe, it's letting out all the pent up anxiety. Every breath is interrupted halfway by the next, and tears make trails down your face and into his clothing.

“I’m sorry.” You tell him again, and in response he just holds you tighter. His arms pull you as close as physically possible, and for a moment you let go of everything that's holding you up. Everything you’ve been trying to hide from those you travel with surface with one terrible sob.

“Someone as heavenly as you shouldn't cry.” Crosshair says, placing the gentlest of kisses to your hairline.  

“It's my fault they're dead.” You gasp between tears. 

“No, Yona, it’s not. You didn't start this war, you didn't ask for your home planet to be invaded. And you didn’t give the order.” 

“But I-” You start

“But nothing.” He barges in rather softly. “It’s not, and will never be your fault.” 

“He’s going to kill me.” you whisper into the darkness of the havoc marauder. “He would have the day if the neighbours had not heard the screaming. Before he left he promised me, no matter where I hid, he’d find me.” 

“I won't let him lay a finger on you.” Crosshair professes to you and himself.  His arms that had slacked pull you closer yet again. 

“You don’t owe me anything, missions done Cross. I’m just baggage.” You sniffle, lip beginning to tremble. 

“Not to me.” He says firmly. You pull back from him just enough to look into his eyes. And with a look both of you ask ‘why me’ and answer the other in one breath. Your quivering hands make their way to the edges of his face. And very, very slowly they start  pulling his lips to yours. You stop just before they meet. Waiting for him to pull away, or to ask you to stop, but nothing of the sort happens. His mouth connects to yours as softly as possible and just like that the two of you are kissing. 

It’s soft, slow, nurturing and full of feelings neither of you can describe. You never want to leave this embrace and from the way Crosshair is humming against you, he agrees with that statement. 

The air runs out eventually, and breathless, the two of you pull away. It doesn't stop him from chasing your lips and placing haphazard final pecks to your slightly agape mouth. 

“If i asked you to hold me for the rest of the night, would you?” It's A risky question but you ask it anyway. 

“You think i’d say no to someone as stunning as you?”

He wakes to you curled into his frame, arms locked around his stomach where the blacks have ridden up, and he can't tell where his legs start and where yours end because they’re so intertwined. Crosshair looks down at your face, and thinks that he wasn't made to fight in a war. He was made to love you. 

And the second that thought crosses his mind, he’s taken back to Kamino where the creepy longnecks tell a younger version over and over again, that he isn't a real person. That he will never have a real life. He begins and ends with this war, and he knows that this war has taken enough from you. And it cant take him from you if he doesn't give himself  away. 

So he presses one last kiss to your forehead, a tear falling into your hair. He lets himself think about your future, an older happier you, living a free life. It’s just that, in that image, Crosshair isn't there. 

“How did you know?” Tech asks Wrecker the second they make it back to the Havoc Marauder and crosshair is out of earshot. He’s been replaying the events back and it makes so much sense, but how was it that both him and Hunter had not clued in?

“Mostly the way he looked at her.” Wrecker says quietly, afraid of his brother overhearing this conversation. “He wasn’t very subtle.” He adds thoughtfully. Tech scrunches his eyebrows together and thinks about all the small smiles the sniper gave you, and yes this was normal behaviour for him around the other batchers, but thinking about it now, crosshair should've been much more cold to an outsider. Perhaps you just blended in so well into their little family he never stopped to notice.  

“There's a republic planet not too far from here, we restock there.” Hunter calls to the cockpit, usually maybe he’d poke his head in and check on Tech and Wrecker, but right now, he’s got someone else to check on. 

Crosshair is in his room, having collected his blanket from your bunk he sits with it by his bed while wondering how long it’ll smell like you. He’d be angry if he didn’t feel so empty. And because he feels so empty, there's not much he can do but tinker mindlessly with his rifle. 

“Cross?” it's phrased like a question but Hunter isn't exactly asking for permission into Crosshairs room. He strides  right through the door like he owns the place, (which he kind of does.) 

“Sarge!” Crosshair jumps to attention. It’s funny how when your brain does into overdrive it reverts to its base settings and you fall into old habits, and as a clone, habits are kamino training.

“At ease.” Hunter states with a raised eyebrow, when was the last time he asked his crew to stand to attention? He shakes it off. “Cross we gotta talk.” 

“We aren't together, you can’t court marshall me.” He snaps, Crosshair has already had this conversation in his head, and he knows that in clone force 99 is where he needs to be. So he’s got every rebuttal and reason stacked in his mind ready to go. 

“That wasn’t what I was asking…” Hunter states, and he knows he has to be careful, crosshair is a live wire at the best of times and this, well this is something else entirely. 

“What are you asking me then?” Crosshair stands up, coming toe to toe with Hunter, and you don’t need enhanced sense to know cross feels threatened. So Hunter takes a step back, a sign of non-agression. 

“I am asking why you would push something like that away.” Hunter says, choosing his words carefully. Not ‘why push her away’ because he knows the answer to that. It’s not allowed, I have to keep her safe, she doesn't feel the same, ect, ect. But in reality Hunter wants to know why he would push away the unspoken feelings they both have for the other. Why would Crosshair throw away something every clone dreamed about? Crosshair doesn't respond at first, but when he does, he explains everything to simply. 

“You can’t heal trauma on a battlefield.” and for the first time in  his life Hunter sees one of his men shed a tear. It’s gone the second it appears, lost to a face worn down by violence. Gone so quickly Hunter isn't even sure if it’s really there.

“But Crosshair.” He tells him gently “that isn’t your call. It’s hers.” he receives a small nod in return. And Hunter stands in front of him awkwardly, not sure what he is supposed to do next. 

“Well.” he clears his throat. “I’ll leave you to it then, because you best start working on your apology.” Crosshair smiles softly at that, and nods with more confidence this time. 

“You know sarge, if i didn't know better i’d say you’ve gone soft.”  The classic crosshair sarcasm is lacking a tad, but it’s progress. 

“Yeah, that Fairywren’s a bad influence.” He says over his shoulder as he leaves the snipers room. 

Time has no meaning while they're gone. You decide with an over dramatic sigh while you dig up and plant this strange dessert food. Except it’s not really food, it’s just kind of a thick stemmed thing that oozes out goo that the locals use for a variety of things, including a snack.  But you like plants, and you’re more than happy to be left on your own for a bit. Leeya is in the center of town with her son, selling and buying goods for the week. 

“Yona!” You hear her shouting from the house, frantic, and worried. “Yona!” she’s sprinting toward you fast as she can with the baby in her arms. You run to meet her halfway, tripping as you scramble to get up. 

“What, what is it?” You ask as she collides into you, careful not to squish the infant. 

“He’s coming, he’s coming here. Yona he’s coming here.” Leeya pants, terrified. Through the time of your stay you learn her life has also been altered by the trandoshan that hunts you, the kind twi’lek confessed to you one night when you asked why she agreed to help you. And being kind, you didn't press. Her life was her life, and neither of you seemed keen on talking about either of your lives.

“Leeya” You say trying to keep a level head. “Breathe I need you to breathe.”  she takes shallow breaths but nods to your suggestion. 

“They were talking about it at the market, said someone overheard a transmission.” You look up at the sky for a ship, praying to see one you recognize. But  it’s clear skies today and there's nothing in sight. So you can only wrap your arm around Leeya, coo to her son, head inside and pretend not to be scared. 

Krexx lands two rotations later, and your occasional shaking becomes constant. Sleep isn’t an option because you always have to be alert. You assume he doesnt know you’re here or he  would’ve found you already, but that doesn't ease your nerves. So it’s no surprise to anyone in the household, that when Leeya’s son starts to cry in the  middle of th night, you're by  his side in an instant. 

“Hey little slug, what's got your lekku in a twist?” You scoop him up into your arms and he manages to blow a tear induced spit bubble as a reply. 

“See and then you wonder why I call you slug, you slimy thing.” You smile down at him, bouncing slightly, moving your weight from leg to leg trying to stop the crying before his mum wakes. 

But don’t worry, it’s okay to be slimy.” You hope your voice will calm him, his wailing has stopped but you can tell from the sniffles one wrong move and you'll be back to square one. 

“I know someone who’s got a great story about slime, maybe one day he can tell you about it. Except maybe we’d have to get Tech to tell you, He’s so smart, and because Wrecker, well he’s a lot but you’ll love him either way, and Hunter’s kind rough around the edges but all squishy in the middle…” You trail off, and blink back tears that are a physical manifestation of stress. 

“And Crosshair, he’d take such good care of you, he’s kind of intimidating, got this whole pretended beskar exterior, but it’s all an act. He’d get you the softest blankets and he checks on everyone to make sure they eat and sleep and whatnot. I bet you’d really like him little slug.” you let some tears fall and giggle a little. 

“See now you’ve got us both crying now what am I supposed to do?” you say, except when you look down he’s fallen back asleep. So you place him back down, carefully wrapped in blankets. 

“You know, you don't have to help with him.” Leeya says from the door, with a smile that tells you she’s not being totally serious.

“Just earning my keep.” You joke and she sighs and follows you out of the baby’s room to make some kind of beverage. Pulling cups down and heating water to mix with a scoop of the extract from the plants you gathered today. 

“You haven't been sleeping.” She notes as she hands you a cup. You hum in response, not really knowing what to say. So the two of you sit in comfortable silence, until one of the buttons by her door starts to blink. It’s not the lock mechanism, because it's not red or green. 

“What's the blue light?” You ask, taking a sip of the drink that you decide maybe isn't too horrible. 

“Scanners picked something up, out across the dunes.” She mumbles standing and making her way over to the window to peer out of it. You follow her to squint in the darkness. 

“Leeya…” You whisper, “what’s out there?” 

“Something big if the scanners can get it from that far out.” she turns from the window, rushing to place the cup down and back to the babies room. 

“A ship?” You ask chasing after her, as she scoops up her son. 

“Could be, but if it is, that doesn't make us any safer.” She opens her cupboard and hands you her long range rifle. 

“I know you think it’s them, but I’m telling you, whatever it is, it probably isn't friendly.” she tells you, a sad look on her face.   

“I know.”  You tell her, “stay here with baby slug. I’ll check it out.” You tell her heading for the door. 

“How many times have I told you, his name is Galer.” She sighs, “be safe.” She adds as the durasteel door creaks and slides open. You look back with a smile before disappearing out the door. 

The night on this planet is as annoying as the day, the wind picks up so much that even if you could see through the pitch black, the sand in your eyes prevents you from making anything desirable out. But you know your way to the dunes where you landed, having trekked there almost everyday hoping the Batch had returned for you. 

In the distance there’s a hulking shadow, most certainly a large transport of some kid, but if it's a ship (and not some terrifying Jawa contraption) is it the Havoc Marauder? The sand is loose under your feet, and every step is a struggle to unburry the step you took before it. Your heart feels like it’s screaming for Crosshair, while your brain sush’s it with thoughts of untold peril. 

In the darkness you see movement appear over a sand dune, and on instinct you throw yourself into the grainy stuff for cover, shouldering the rifle and looking through the scope. There’s just the crickets and your breathing as you make out one figure, then another, and another until the fourth and final body comes into view. You adjust the scope with a flutter of frantic fingers. One smaller than the rest? Check? Hulking gentle giant? Yeppers. You make out a pack on the back of the one that seems to be leading the group and….

And then you see the shadow of a rifle. 

You scramble for purchase in the soft sand, like some kind of manic beetle running for cover. Your brain has tunnel vision brought from the gap in your heart. 

“Crosshair!” You scream into the darkness, as you start sprinting towards the group, it was a stupid idea, blowing your cover, even stupider to leave your rifle behind. But you don’t care. 

The entire group whips around at the noise, and you hear them calling out into the night.

“Wren!” it’s his voice, and you  know it’s him that's also running towards you. You’ve counted so many kriffing rotations since you last saw, spoke to or heard from him. 

Crosshair can't think straight, there’s so much he needs to apologize for, so much he needs to tell you and maker, if he can’t get you into his arms soon he might implode. 

But then, he doesn't have enhanced senses for nothing, he sees it out of the corner of his eye, his brain checking the area for snipers without him even being conscious it’s doing so until it actually finds one. 

And so he goes barrelling into you at full speed, hunching down and tackling the both of you into the ground, as the rest of the batch scrambles for cover and to return fire. You feel like you’re being dragged into the sand and you can’t breath, hearing, but not seeing blaster shots. 

“Crosshair,” You reach for him as he pushes you further into the ground trying to shield your body.   

“Stay down!” He shouts, already looking through the scope of his rifle. You try to get to him again, but he sees you move and he abandons the shot in favour of pushing you into the sand again. 

“Stay. Down.” he hisses into your ear. And he registers your mumbles, having forgotten, if anyone knew Krexx and his tactics. It was you. 

“They knew. They knew Crosshair! They were waiting for you to come back!” your hands finally find purchase on a part of him and the latch on like magnetic durasteel. “None of you have armour, they knew.” You press, searching his eyes praying he understands. One look up and he sees a group of trandoshans marching to where his brothers are currently defending. He moves for his rifle and starts making shots as you spot your gun, laying useless in the sand a few meters away. Crawling on your tummy over to it, your hand wraps around the butt of the gun as it’s grabbed by a single trandoshan, who must have been scouting on the other side of the city. 

The blaster rifle is ripped from you as your shoulder takes a powerful kick that winds you as your back hits the ground. He pulls a smaller hand held blaster on you, but you’re quick enough to send a fistful of sand into his face, followed by a flailing kick to his knee cap. As he drops, a gun fires  from behind you, and the creature drops dead. You grab your gun from his grasp and twist to see Crosshairs rifle still smoking, as another reptile runs at him, you pull the trigger on your rifle, sending him to the ground. Crosshair looks over his shoulder, then back to you.  

“Never told me you were that good a shot.” he comments as you scurry back over to him. 

“You didn’t ask.” you grit out, laying down more cover fire. 

“Hot.”  He smirks, and you gape at him, yes he looks fantastic in civilian clothes, in fact, given different situations you might take the time to stare at him.

“Really? That. now?” you shout over the desert battle. “You shut yourself off from me, ditch me for weeks on this hell hole, and now you want to flirt in the middle of this sweet hell!” you gesture wildly to the entire situation. 

“I have an apology ready, but I figured it should wait until we aren't getting shot at!” He rolls over onto your body as a human shield as the trandoshan sniper, rains all hell down on the two of you. Crosshair looks up just enough so that he can see your eyes, and he knows if he’s about to die he needs to kiss you one more time. 

So he does. It’s messy and uncoordinated, less soft than the first one you two had shared. It’s frantic, worried, desperately trying to compensate for kisses he now worries you’ll never get the chance to share. 

You respond in kind, pressing open mouth kisses into him as the only way to try and communicate that you know. You know he’s sorry, you know he missed you, you know he’s going to promise to never leave you again. You know him. Maybe better than he was originally okay with, but right now he just doesn't care. 

“The blasts.” You say thorough kisses, causing him to pause and check his surroundings. 

“They stopped…” he supplies, leaning up a tad more onto his forearms, still keeping you encased beneath him. 

“No help from the two of you.” Says Hunter as him, Tech and Wrecker approach the tiny hill you had both been hiding behind. Crosshair stands up brushing himself off before pulling you up and into his arms, glaring at his vod while he places a (slightly angry)  kiss to the top of your head. 

“Can I say hi to everyone else?” The question sounds squished as you mumble it out from your spot against his chest. 

“Fine.” Crosshair relents, letting you go allowing his brothers to crowd you and basically coo over how much they missed you. “So much for my cyare.” he grumbles to himself, only slightly pouting at the attention that isn't his anymore. 

And from within a twi’leks house, just off the edge of the sand dunes, one last trandoshan watches. And waits. 

Crosshair didn't let you get more than a few steps away from him the entire way back to Leeya’s house. It was almost as if the more you walked the more nervous he got that you would disappear in front of his eyes. His hand slipped it’s way into yours, gently dragging you so that Crosshair could feel the warmth of you. 

“Clingy.” You state, leaning into him as you walked through the sand. He hums in response, not bothering to try and deny it. His brothers marvel at how much he’s changed since you came into their lives. 

“It’s very impressive.” Tech admits, “the Fairywren seems to be able to trigger evolutionary change in humans. Who knew such a small creature could cause such a shift in personality?” Crosshair makes a gesture at Tech that you don’t see but assume it was rude either way. 

“Shove off Tech.” He says over his shoulder. You all but coo up at Crosshair, smiling towards him when he meets your gaze. 

“So you’re done pushing me away now?” You ask, teasing a little, but also hesitant, worried that he’ll grow cold again. 

“Yeah, someone talked some sense into me.” He tells you, briefly glancing over to Hunter, who only smiles and gives him a mock salute. 

“Hmm? And which of your vod do I have to thank for that?” You look at the rest of the batch behind you. 

“I guess you’ll never know.” Crosshair says, wrapping his arm around you again, stealing you away from the others. Maker, he really is clingy when he wants to be. 

Peaking your  head around the corner of one of the edge buildings you check for any other trandoshans. There's nothing. The wind whistles through the city as it sleeps, and you hope by the time morning comes, Drexx hasn't found the mess the five of you left his troop in. 

It’s the door to Leeya’s house that makes you stop, Cross feels you go rigid in his arms, and even he doesn't notice the cause at first. 

“The keypad.” You shakily whisper, it looks as if it's been removed and hastily replaced. Something only someone who’s been watching their back for as long as you have would notice. Without pausing to think you break away from Crosshair and dash inside. You hear him call your  name at the same time a blaster clicks beside your head. 

“It’s nice to see you again.”  Drexx hisses from beside you, Leeya is sitting on the floor in her living room, Galer crying in her arms. 

“He’s just a kid,” You immediately start begging. You’ve been here before, the same blaster, a much wetter planet and two adults shaking in front of you instead of one. Body trembling in its entirety. 

“Please.” you try again, “he’s just a baby.” Tears fall of their own accord. Like your body doesn't know what else to do other than tremble from head to toe and poor water from your eyes. 

“Should’ve kept away from them then.” Drexx tells you as he places himself on a chair in the room, twirling his blaster happily. Just as Clone Force 99 barges their way in. 

“Oh, looks like your friends have finally caught up.” He snarls. Pointing his gun at you again. “Seems to me they are short of some armour though. I wonder how resilient clones are when they’re not protected by fancy plastoid.” A choked sob leaves your body, what have you done? How could this be happening, again? 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, come here little Fairywren.” Krexx hushes you and you know you have no choice to listen to him. Crossing the room on shaking legs, hearing a struggle behind you as Hunter tries to hold Crosshair back.

“You.” Krexx says moving his blaster to point at Cross. “You, I recognize. Last we met,  you were passed out in binders. Decided to cuff yourself to some new deadweight I see.” He looks at you and then back to Crosshair. Having a superb time with the power he’s found himself in possession of. 

“Krexx…” you’ve got no option but to try and reason with him again, still focused on the family behind you. “Just let these two go. You know you don’t need them anymore. And you know you can’t kill civilians in a neutral system.” His features curl in anger as he turns to you. 

“Who would report me? You? The clones?” He’s just playing with his food at this point. Enjoying the terror he’s bringing, and thriving off of your trauma. He places his blaster down on the table and places his feet atop it. 

“How about we make a deal Fairywren?” He offers, relaxing into the chair. 

“What kind of deal?” You ask timidly. Brain working overtime to try and figure out how to get out of your situation.  

“Someone gets to walk away from this alive, I don’t care who. Could be them, could be mama and baby over there. Could be you.” Your eyes lock with Crosshair, you both know what's about to happen.

“Your call. Who gets to live? And more importantly who else gets to die because the famous fairywren couldn't keep her trap shut?” 

Everything seems to be put on pause for a second as your brain spirals out of control. Almost like your mind swims away from your physical body, and watches what happens next. 

“Me.” You say firmly. “It was my mistake, I am the snitch. I get to die.”Your voice is confident. So much so that you think Krexx might be impressed. 

“Then which of them gets to die?” He asks you, willing, wanting you to continue. 

“Neither, you get me, that’s it. That's the deal.” You do your best to remain as confident as possible but it’s slipping away quickly. 

“And why would I agree to that?” Krexx questions, wondering what plan you've concocted. 

“Because killing them wasn't a part of your orders. You kill an entire force of Troopers and the republic will demand your head on a pike. Kill civilians of a neutral planet and the republic gains yet another supporter. You have orders. So did I, I followed them, it got me here. You follow yours and this stops today.” You’re hoping the dramatic rhetoric is enough. It seems to be enough to make Krexx pause and think for a moment. 

“You say that like if i shoot you in here, your band of freaks won't tear my head off.” Krexx comments after a long period  of time. And you let out the breath you’d been holding. 

“Outside then.” You fire back. 

“Wren.” Crosshair says, and you can’t even meet his eyes. The crack in his voice is enough. 

“Outside then.” Krexx agrees. Motintiong for you to walk onwards the door as he picks up his blaser. “One more thing.” he adds, pausing as the two of you are almost to the door. 

You scream as the bolt hits Crosshair in the left leg. All plans forgotten as you turn towards him. He hits the ground on his good knee as Tech and Hunter crowd him desperate to save what's left of the burning flesh. Wrecker turns on Krexx who promptly grasps your bicep and points the gun to your head. 

“Just needed a little insurance that we wouldn't be followed. And he seemed to be a trouble maker.” He gives a nod to the scene in front of him, like an artist finally content with their work he pulls you from the house. 

Crosshair feels like his leg is being swallowed by Magma, it’s pain that burns bright all up his body. Tech does his best to get the ruined fabric away from the wound, but other than wrap it in non-ruined shirt material and put pressure on it there's not much that can be done. 

“Roof.” Crosshair gasps out, trying to move for his sniper rifle. 

“Crosshair, you put pressure on a wound like that and you might not be keeping that leg.” Tech tells him, trying to find anything resembling bacta. He feels a hand on his shoulder, the Twi’lek, Leeya he thinks her name is, presses a stim shot into his hand. 

“Stairs lead all the way up, on the right.” She deadpans, turning away from the group clutching onto her child. With a grunt, Crosshair stabs the stim shot into his leg, tying the material as tight as he can before the pain becomes overwhelming.  His hand goes for the gun again, and Hunter’s beats him to it. He opens his mouth to argue. 

“All due respect sarge,” Wrecker interrupts, taking the rifle from Hunter, and hoisting Crosshair to his feet. Wrecker goes to add something, but he doesn't, opting for a curt nod to his sergeant before dragging his half conscious brother towards the stairs. 

Krexx leads you to the open sand, the morning sun now on the rise, beginning to warm the land. 

“At least it’s a nice view.” You breathe as he pushes you to your knees, moving the blaster into position. Your mind goes blank, unsure of where to go from here. 

Your body however, knows exactly what to do. And with one last surge of adrenaline it twists in the sand and you use both hands to get a grasp on Krexx’s wrist, standing and using your momentum to pull him over you and into the sand. From there it’s a scurry as you search for the weapon. Only to be yanked by your hair as the trandoshan regains his footing.  A jab with your elbow, loosens his grip enough so that your second jab crashes into his teeth. You make the mistake of kicking him, with such force that you lose your balance in the sand. This gives him time to wrap hands around your windpipe and begin to crush it. You flail in the sand kicking it up in one last desperate fight. 

Crosshair stumbles onto the roof, his eyes are dropping and he’s fighting to even keep them open. Wrecker drags him over to the ledge and points at two figures in the distance. From his guess they are about 12 clicks away, a fully functioning Crosshair might not even be able to make this shot, let alone a half dead one. Wrecker can only stand next to him and squint into the sunrise as his brother desperately tries to line up the shot. A figure drops as he pulls the trigger, but it’s impossible to tell who it is. 

Krexx falls to the side as the blaster bolt comes into contact with his body. It’s enough to dislodge him but not enough to kill him. Rolling in the sand all you can think about is getting air back into your system, but a death grip on your lower leg reminds you the fight isn't over.  You kick the Trandoshan again to dislodge him and you turn to bring your hands together in a devastating hit to where his neck meets his chest. Something in the sand catches your eye as you search for the blaster and your hand goes out to it. 

It’s not the blaster, it’s a rock. But a rock will do. Positioning yourself above him, Krexx just laughs. 

“Go on then, beat me to a bloody death.” And you gulp, eyes flickering from the rock to him. And you wonder if you have it in you to literally bash a man's head in. He continues to laugh at you. Make you cant viciously kill a man with a jagged stone. But you can certainly knock him out with one. 

So you bring the rock down once and then twice for good measure, until he stops struggling with so much power and you can pull him into a choke hold. Eventually allowing him to become unconscious beneath you. Leeya’s speeder is coming towards you, Hunter and her at the helm. She embraces you as Hunter binds the general, he turns towards you, and he picks the blaster out of the sand a few feet away. Pressing it into your hands, you think about shooting Krexx. But you know what good the republic could do with the information he holds. 

Whether you shoot him is your decision. And yours alone. 

But for now, you have more important matters on your mind.

Crosshair wakes up in a medbay, vaguely remembering your face in the morning sun. someone begging for him to stay awake, and that a republic cruiser was in a nearby system. He remembers feeling your soft hands cradling his face, and thinking dying wouldn't be so bad if he had gotten to say goodbye. 

“Wakey wakey.” He hears you call to him, a clean GAR uniform on, but still his black blanket wrapped around you. He tries to shift up, but Cross is stopped by your hand on his chest. 

“M’ fine.” He grunts out, trying to sit up again. You sit yourself on the side of his bed and refuse to move your hand.  

“Humour me?” You softly ask, Crosshair sighs but lays back down anyways. “Medics say you’ll make a full recovery. Tech says that once Hunter gets a hold of you they’ll say otherwise. Something about disobeying orders?” Your hand moves from his chest and into the hair at the side and back of his neck. Nails running gently over the tense muscle. He hums at the feeling, and subconsciously his hands search for purchase by your waist. Rubbing circles over the material and down into your skin. 

“Technically it was Wrecker that disobeyed orders.” He argues, letting his hands drift to the small of your back. 

“You know I could give you the lecture of your life for being such an idiot. But maybe i'll just be mad at you later instead.” You say fondly, letting him shift enough to make room beside his good leg for you to squish in the cot next to him. 

“You just can’t stay angry at someone this handsome.” He gives you a signature Crosshair smirk and moves his blanket over the two of you. 

“I beg to differ. I certainly can stay angry at someone that handsome.” You tease, snuggling closer to him.  Feeling his chest move as he chuckles. Crosshair stairs down at you, and just like the first time you found yourself in his arms he’s thinking about a time when the war is over and you’re living a life without fear or bloodshed. Except this time that older version of you is joined by an older version of him, pulling him close and kissing his lips for the billionth time. 

“I love you.” He whispers into your hair, breathing away tears. 

“I love you too.” You whisper back, shifting just enough to let your eyes flutter closed and press your lips to his. 

Some months later…

The airstrip is packed, and yet the wind still manages to find its way into the smallest of spaces, sending shivers deep into the skin of anyone present. 

“Experimental unit Clone Force 99. They’re defective clones with, uh… Desirable mutations.” Commander Cody explains to a very hesitant Captain Rex

“99, eh? Nice touch.” He says as the ramp descends.

“They call themselves, The Bad Batch.” Cody states with pride as Wrecker appears in the doorway, slaughtering down shouting something about the cavalry arriving. You stifle a giggle at their dramatics. Pulling your custom helmet, courtesy of Tech, over your head. While the boys had their grey and red plastic armour, yours had been painted with a little extra blue, forming wings that cascaded down the plate covering your back. The helmet however, featured foot prints of the bird ini question, each with a very small crosshair encircling them.  

And yes, you had added a delicately placed fairywren painting to crosshairs inner plating beside his ribcage. 

“Sergeant. Good to see you again.” Cody greets you all, as you stand beside your Cyare, eyeing him carefully.  He doesn't work well with others, especially when others involve regular clones. You jab your elbow into Crosshairs side playfully, reminding him to look a little less like he wants to explode right then and there. 

“I see that Wren fits right in.” The commander adds, giving you a smile and a nod, you finally pull off your helmet, much to the shock of Rex, Jesse and Kix. 

“That's definitely not a clone.” Kix says to Jesse. 

“Long time no see commander.” You say returning his smile, you move for a hug but Cody extends his hand to you. 

“Last time I tried to hug you, your Ram’ser almost killed me.” He reminds you with a side glance to Crosshair who looks even more annoyed with every passing second. 

“He’s harmless.” You wave him off and hug him anyways. Crosshair tries not to visibly stiffen, he’s wildly protective and even more so possessive. But it’s understandable considering you’re the only thing he’s ever known to bring him happiness. 

“Sorry we’re late, Commander. We were putting down an insurrection on Yalbec Prime when your comm came in. Had a few unforeseen… complications.” Hunter cuts in, knowing that this whole debacle needs to get a move on. 

“You ever fought a male Yalbec?” Wrecker asks loudly, enjoying the show you’re all putting on for the regs. 

“Um, Can’t say i have…” Jesse responds carefully, still looking at your with confusion, of course he’d heard of the Fairywren, but meeting a hero in person hits a little different than the stories. 

“You’re lucky! Only way to kill ‘em is with one of these.” Wrecker adds pulling out the biggest vibroblade Jessie has ever seen. 

“That’s right. Wrecker here cut off the queen’s stinger while she was still alive.” Hunter adds, still a little pissed off at his vod for the incident in question. “That’s why all those Yalbec males tried to eat us.” You chuckle at the memory, Crosshair had been understandably angry after all you were able to do was sit and laugh your ass off as they frantically ran around surrounded by Yalbec males. 

 “Ah, technically they were trying to mate with us. And, for your information, the stinger of a Yalbec Queen is a delicacy on some planets.” Tech jumps in causing you to laugh even more, and causing Crosshair to softly tap the side of your hip as if to say ‘cut it out.’ (But with a loving tone of course) 

“They call him Tech.” Cody explains to the other three clones who look petrified at the disaster of a family in front of them. 

“Yeah, he can fill your head with useless info for hours. Crosshair, on the other hand, is not much of a conversationalist, but when you have to hit a precise target from ten klicks, Crosshair’s your man.” Hunter boasts, causing a ghost of a smile form on his lips. 

“Actually sarge,” You cut in. “I believe he’s my man, ten klicks away or otherwise.” Crosshair does smile at that, sending you a look filled with sassy adoration and winding an arm around your middle. Hunter rolls his eyes. Crosshair may be possessive but you’re on a whole other level. He’s all you’ve got, and you’re all he’s got, it’s a recipe for the clingy disaster that is your relationship. 

“Don’t get me started on those two.” He grumbles to Cody, throwing a thumb over his shoulder at the two of you. “So Commander, what kind of suicide mission do you have for us this time?” He asks, heading back to the ship with Cody in tow. 

“After you.” Crosshair slurs at the blonde captain who bristles at the statement, but follows Cody onto the Havoc Marauder with Jessie and Kix. 

“Play nice.” you scold looking up at him with heart eyes, not that you ever look at him without heart eyes. 

“Make me Cyare.” He smirks at you, before pulling you into a bruising kiss, not hesitating to make it far too passionate to be shared in public. That's another thing about Crosshair, he kisses you when he sees fit, no matter the setting or situation. After he finally officially had you in his arms he vowed never to miss a moment to kiss you.  

“Ugh, jus’ get on the ship already, let's go!” Wrecker booms from behind you, so you cup his face and pull away, letting his lip chase yours as they part all too soon. 

“Come on Ram’ser, we’ve got seppie ass to kick.” You tell him, all butt skipping back to the ship. The love of your life right behind you every step of the way. 

[just-lost-inbetween-worlds]

A Love to End All Wars

Part 1

Harrison Osterfield x Reader

Warnings: fluff? none that I know of (if you see something please let me know)

Word count: 1.7k

Important A/n: One- this was edited but very quickly so I would get it out on time, hopefully I’ll be able to come back and go over it again soon. Two- I don’t know when the next update of this series will be, my g-grandma isn’t doing well at all and it’s been really hard with that and just all of the other crap going on for my family and so I feel like I need to be there for them and for thier happiness and mental health, thank you for understanding.

You hadn’t been entirely sure you actually were going to be accepted due to the fact that you had an acute case of stage fright, which you felt had really shown, especially during your audition performance.

At the tender age of 16 you had started your first year at the world famous arts school.

That was 2 years ago. Over the years your fellow students have become acquaintances and friends. A few even became what you could consider to be rivals or enemies. Even fewer, more precisely a single soul, had become more than a friend.

Now, here you are sitting in your year thirteen theatre class, being lectured by one of your many favorite teachers at the school.

“Students, as you have known for nearly a week now, your final assessment for theatre, being in year 13, will be to choreograph and perform a 5 minute “Physical Theatre” performance with your assigned partner,” the teacher said, continuing to gain more and more of the students attention as she went on, talking about the very well known ‘physical theatre assignment of year 13’ (that have been known for often being passionate and even sometimes, in some cases, a bit intimate in nature, over the years).

“As I said last week, today is the day that your assigned partners will be revealed, and I want to remind you all once again, partners have been assigned very carefully in regards to the task you are to complete. Without further ado, your partners are Angela and Ricky, Tian and Jackson...” She goes on.

You start to tune her out knowing, or more so hoping, that it will catch your attention once she calls your name along with the name of your assigned partner.

Luckily for you, it did catch your attention, “...Y/n and Harrison,” she continues, not stopping after your names are called, just continuing on to call out the names of the assigned partners in the class that still remained unknown to everyone.

Luckily your attention did in fact return to what she was saying as soon as you had heard your name called.

Harrison. Your partner was Harrison Osterfield. He had been your crush pretty much ever since you started attending Brit, he was kind and funny, not to mention absolutely gorgeous, especially with his beautiful icy blue eyes and dirty blonde hair (He was of the most popular boys in school, he was best mates with some of the other most popular guys in the school, one of which included his VERY best mate, Tom Holland.)

Anxiousness filled you, you just weren’t sure if it was the good kind or the bad kind. You weren't upset or anything like that about the fact that your assigned partner was Harrison. Well maybe you were a tiny bit upset, but not about getting to be around Harrison so much to work on the project, but because now you knew you would stress about your guys’ entire project and performance assessment, and mess it up due to your, improving but still lingering stage fright.

You shake yourself out of your head and thoughts that aren’t helping anything.

The teacher announced, “The theme for this year's physical theatre performances are… the first world war.”

A few students audibly groaned in annoyance, while another half of the class gave each other looks, you included, varying from relative excitement, to eyerolls and people pretending to shoot themselves in the head.

You were fairly confident in your abilities, and pretty sure you would have at least one or two ideas about what you and Harrison could do for your performance storyline.

You walked to the back of the room, where Harrison had been seated just moments ago to find him no longer there.

“Hey Y/n” Harrisions says as he sneaks up behind you, startling you and causing you to jump.

“Sorry didn't mean to scare you.” he immediately apologies.

“Oh, no, that's alright, I was actually just coming to look for you to talk to you about our project and stuff. Plus, back home, I can hear my mom coming up the stairs and up to right outside my door, yet she still would manage to make me jump every time when she would open the door.” You and Harrison both laugh lightly at your ridiculous short story.

“I was trying to find you too actually” he commented, explaining why you had found his seat to be empty when you had started to look for him. You smile at eachother and he motions to the seat in front of you urging you to take it, taking the seat right beside it once you’ve sat down.

After everyone had found and took a seat next to their partners, the teacher continued, “Alright everyone, this is a big part of your final grade in theatre this year so I expect for you to take this seriously, but along with that we would also like your creativity to flow as much as possible, which is why you will all receive one week of excuses from your other classes to complete this project, and you are allowed to work on it anywhere as long as it is located on campus grounds. Do not slack off or take this to any unintended advantage, It will show in both your performance as well as in your final grade this grading period. Good luck, I can not wait to see what you all come up with. Dismissed.”

As soon as she said the word “dismissed” students began pouring out of the classroom in a jumble of pairs. You and Harrison being the only exception; both wanting to have at least somewhat of a plan before heading out to a place that you and Harrison had yet to decide on, to do what also had yet to be decided on.

You begin with a shy and timid voice, “So, I was thinking, um that maybe we could start out with a bit of WWI research, maybe get some ideas on what we could do?”

“Yeah good idea. So where do you want to go to work, well for today at least?” Harrison talks as his normal, slightly loud self, not in the slightest bit nervous, unlike you who still were seated right besides him.

You could hear and feel your heartbeat in your ears and head, it was pounding and at quite a fast rate, you just prayed that the gorgeous man who you were lucky to get assigned as a partner couldn’t hear it too.

“Oh um I really don't care, whatever you want is fine really.” You say really not wanting to be too controlling and annoying about the project, especially this early on in it.

“Well ok then, lets go to the library, so we can do some research. Sounds good?” Harrison asks.

“Yeah, sure.” You reply.

“Ok cool, so do you have any ideas so far on what our physical theatre should be about, I mean like wwi of course but any ideas in particular?” He questions.

“Haha” You chuckle nervously, “actually yeah, I was thinking that maybe we could do something about being soldiers on the front.”

He adds his input as well, mentioning, “Yeah I was thinking so too. Let’s have them be enemies, on opposing sides. I feel like that could make it a lot more interesting and give us more options and possibilities and ideas of what we could do with it.”

“Wow, did you come up with this like as soon as she told us the theme would be world war one or are you just that creative and come up with great ideas that instantly happen all the time.” You attempt to joke a little with him.

“I mean, I've got to be honest... it's the second one” we both laugh with each other once again. You are really looking forward to working with Harrison on this project for a while.

You take the short walk together from the classroom to the library, making small talk along the way. He opens one of the double doors and waves me in ahead of him, like a gentleman, which for some reason had been somewhat of a surprise to you, knowing that half of the female student body is after him. You walk into the building with walls lined with all different sizes of books.

“Follow me,” you signal your head in the correct direction, “I know where some books on the world wars are.”

“Um it could get pretty full in here, I’ll go get us a table.here, I can take your bag too” you're not sure if you should be upset and worried that he was trying to get away from you for a little bit, or if you should be happy that he offered to take your bag, once again like a complete gentleman.

It doesn't take long for you to find a few books that you think will be helpful in coming up with the “storyline” for your guys’ physical theatre performance.

When you get back to the table you set the 4 books you had grabbed down on the small little table in the corner of the library. Immediately, you opened up the largest book you had got on the allied powers and their components in WWI and began skimming the yellowed and aging pages.

Meanwhile Harrison starts to read a book on Germany’s part in the war.

He gets interrupted briefly by a notification going off from his cell phone, him feeling the need to check it and to clear the homescreen littered with a few different notifications from miscellaneous apps. It was a bad habit that he and MANY other people have, including you, to some extent at least, had.

About 30 minutes or so go by, reading in silence, and you secretly quite enjoy the newly found company that Harrison provided.

Throughout that thirty minutes, every once and awhile, one of you would look up from your book and in the direction of the other, and whoever’s gaze it was initially would soon be returned by the other, along with the exchange of soft small smiles.

[daydream-hobii]

Shadows & Wolfsbane | Chapter 8

Genre: Poly!AU; Werewolf!AU; Shapeshifter!AU; Fluff; Angst

Pairing: BTS x Female!Reader; Alpha!Reader, Beta!Seokjin, Alpha!Yoongi, Alpha!Hoseok, Alpha!Namjoon, Omega!Jimin, Beta!Taehyung, Beta!Jungkook

Summary: Y/N is the youngest Alpha in her compound, owning a whole village. She was born by two Omegas, and originally wanted to be killed, but things were changing in her universe. At the end of the year, each Alpha can pick up to 30 new warriors, wolves that have been training, and the youngest always starts. Y/N never really chooses, asks for the ones who were unwanted such as the old or disabled. This time, she picks the strongest seven players among the warriors, and the other Alphas aren’t too happy, but she chose them for other reasons…. Hopefully, they’ll help her with the predicament she’s found herself in….

Warning: Mentions of Abuse, Sexual Assault, Depression, Anxiety; Suggestions of Smut; Read with caution <3

Word Count: 1,425

// Previous // Next //

Author’s Note: Welcome to Chapter 8! Please let me know what you think of this chapter, I love getting feedback! I hope you enjoyed it!!! ^_^

       The sun hit my eyes the next morning, making me stir in my sleep. Warm arms encased me on each side and, just for a second, I thought I was safe. Even though we slept apart, we all ended up clinging to each other. The reality of the night before hit me and I opened my eyes, staring at the man in front of me. Taehyung was sleeping peacefully, his breathing steady. A feeling I had never felt before rolled through my body, my heart feeling as light as a feather.

       I reached my hand out, hesitating only for a second before tracing his jawline. Taehyung seemed to let out a little purr in his sleep, his arms tightening around me. A second pair of arms pulled me back, and I knew it was Jimin.

       “You let them stay in bed with you?!” Jungkook exclaimed at the door, making me sit up fast, embarrassment settling in my bones.

       Taehyung rolled off the bed in shock, making me yelp in surprise before smirking and leaning over, staring at his pouting face and crossed arms. Jimin was just as surprised at the loud noise, but he calmed down before either of us.

       “Thank you for ruining my warmth,” Jimin grumbled, stretching.

       “We enjoy doing just that,” Yoongi said, rolling his eyes. Namjoon eyes us, and I looked down, biting my lip.

       “I got a little scared, and couldn’t sleep,” I mumbled, looking back at them. “I’m sorry.”

       “Why?” Namjoon asked, raising an eyebrow.

       “We’ve been wanting to sleep in bed with you since we started staying here,” Hoseok said, smirking, making me shake my head and close my eyes.

       “This isn’t happening,” I whispered, sighing.

       “What’s that smell…?” Jimin asked, scrunching up his nose. Wolves could smell people’s pheromones, and mine were off the chart.

       “Holy shit!” Seokjin said, wide eyed and staring at me. He knew the smell well.

       “Say a word and I’ll kill you right here,” I growled, making the others raise an eyebrow. Seokjin smirked, shrugging his shoulders.

       “Just tell me which one?” Seokjin asked, continuing to smirk. My eyes darted to the side, towards Taehyung, and Seokjin smiled bigger. “Oh, yeah, it’s only a matter of time.”

       “Shut up,” I said, rolling my eyes and crawling out of bed towards my bathroom. “Go get ready, you’re just training with me today.”

       I was walking down the street in my workout clothes. I said hello to everyone that passed by, arriving at the arena to practice. I had a lot of thoughts going through my head, and felt so alone, but I knew I wanted to train, prepare myself for whatever future.

       I walked into the arena, walking to my private training area where the boys all sat around, stretching and chatting. I had no doubt Seokjin told the Alpha’s about the mating pheromone he smelled off me since they were smirking at me. Fantastic, just what I wanted.

       “We’re starting with Jimin and Jungkook,” I said, cracking my neck and walking to the middle. They raised an eyebrow, walking close to me as I stared at them. “I want you to shift.”

       “You want to see our wolf forms?” Jimin asked, wide eyed.

       “Of course I do, I need to know what I’m working with,” I replied, nodding.

       Jungkook swiftly shifted into his wolf form, Jimin close behind. Since Jimin was an Omega, he was a smaller wolf compared to Jungkook’s Beta form. Jimin was a gorgeous light grey wolf, his eyes matching his coat. Jungkook, however, was a light brown wolf, his eyes a beautiful blue green. His tongue lolled out in a smile as I rolled my eyes.

       “Hoseok, would you mind shifting?” I asked, making him step forward and nod.

       His form, being an Alpha, was almost double the size of the other two. Each wolf was larger in form than the animal, but everyone knew their status by their size. Hoseok was an orange and white wolf, making my eyebrows rise in surprise. This was a coat I haven't seen before, and it was gorgeous. His yellow eyes squinted slightly with happiness.

       “Okay. Seokjin and Namjoon, please,” I said, crossing my arms.

       Namjoon was just a little bigger than Hoseok, Seokjin a little bigger than Jungkook. Namjoon was a darker grey than Jimin, and had blood red eyes. Seokjin was a blonde and white wolf with golden eyes. When I nodded to Yoongi and Taehyung, they knew the drill.

       Yoongi was the smallest of the three Alphas, and Taehyung was the largest of the Betas. Yoongi was a black wolf, one who could easily blend in with the night. His eyes were red, like Namjoon’s, but his were deeper… darker…. Taehyung was a white wolf with a blonde undertone, his eyes a light blue. I smiled at them as they all stood together.

       I took my turn, shifting into my wolf. The mirrors around showing my form, making my head nod. I was a pure white wolf, my eyes yellow with a black outline. The boys eyes were wide staring at me. I was bigger than all of them, even the male Alphas.

       “Woah, Y/n,” I heard Namjoon’s voice in my head.

       “Ever wonder why there's a law permitting female Alpha’s to shift?” I asked, sending the thought through their minds. “Alpha females are a lot bigger than the males.”

       “I’ve never seen an Alpha female shift!!” Jungkook exclaimed.

       “This male dominance thing is real old,” Yoongi growled, his form snarling.

       I walked over to a large garage like door, pressing my nose on the button. It opened to reveal the woods that surrounded out community. I took a deep sniff, taking in the scents from the outside. I could hear a collective gasp through my head.

       “Is that…” Seokjin started.

       “Outside of the community?!” Hoseok howled, tongue lolling out.

       “It is,” I replied, smirking. “Catch me if you can!”

       I booked it out the door, sprinting away from the community. I could hear them hot on my tail, their forms quiet and swift, but my mind filling with hoots and hollers. Their surprise was something I expected, they’ve probably never been in these woods.

       Another law was placed that states you cannot leave the community walls unless a soldier going to war/on patrol or an Alpha/Council Member going to another community. Each village may have it’s own wall, but the villages are connected by more walls so the community is one big circle. I’m a bit of rebel, if I do say so myself.

       I made it to my favorite spot, a cliff that was a couple miles from the village. Our speed was faster than most, allowing us to get here within ten minutes. I was panting as I went and sat at the edge, staring out into the woods that surrounded our community. It was still early in the morning, so the sun could still be seen in front.

       Hoseok came and sat next to me, licking my cheek. Thank god wolves can’t flush. The other boys were around us, staring into the scenery, absorbing it.

       “This is everything I’ve ever dreamed about…” Taehyung whispered.

       “I like to come here to think, when being an Alpha gets too much,” I replied, sighing.

       “Alpha,” A new voice entered my head, and I turned to see my first Beta hustling to my side, eyes filled with despair.

       “What is it?” I asked, standing and facing him.

       “Louis is here,” He said, frowning. “He wants to plan the wedding.”

       “Oh… alright, I’ll be there in a minute,” I whispered, making him nod.

       “I told him you were showering, so you should be alright,” The Beta said, nodding running back towards the village.

       I watched him leave, a feeling of sorrow settling over me. Shouldn’t a wedding make you happy…? I looked back out to the woods, listening to the birds for a minute. A whine sounded beside me, and I looked to see Jimin lay his head against my shoulder.

       “Don’t go,” He said.

       “I have to, he’ll get suspicious,” I said, frowning. “You guys can stay, just be back before lunch.”

       “Y/n,” Hoseok said as I turned. His snout was almost touching my own. “Please… marry me.”

       It was merely a whisper, but my heart stopped all the same. The others heard it and was staring at me with hopeful eyes. Panic settled into my bones, thoughts rolling through my head.

       “I… I can’t,” I said, turning to the village and sprinting back.

[mattmercerbignaturals]

A Garden for Two Ch. 1 (2637 words)

“What happened to all the talk about working together? I thought you believed in acting like a team?” Weiss shook her head, clenching her fist.

             “Not a team led by you.” Her hands came to her sides as frustration welled up in her voice. “I’ve studied and trained and quite frankly, I deserve better.” She turned her back to her partner, crossing her arms. Ruby reached out with her hand, not knowing what she should say. She was trying! Wasn’t that enough? Ruby didn’t want to be named leader, it’s not her fault. “Ozpin made a mistake.” With that, Weiss walked off into the hall, taking all of Ruby’s fight with her.

             Ruby let her head hang low as she turned around and started off towards her dorm. I just want today to be over.  Being so focused on what she needed to do next, she didn’t hear the footsteps coming up behind her. Thankfully Headmaster Ozpin was paying attention and stopped just before the two could collide.

             “Hmmm, now that didn’t seem to go very well.” Ruby’s gaze found the floor as she wrung her hands.

             “Is she right?” She looked up at him, feeling tears starting to form. Don’t cry, please don’t cry. You can’t cry in front of the Headmaster! “Did you make a mistake?” The man gave a small chuckle before replying.

             “I think that remains to be seen.” Ruby felt her eyebrow tick upwards.

             “What do you mean?” He took a sip from his mug before replying.

             “I mean, it’s only been one day. Ms. Rose, I’ve made more mistakes than any man, woman, and child on this planet. But at this moment, I would not consider your appointment as leader to be one of them.” He leaned down, bringing himself to eye level with her. “Do you?”

             Do I? Yes. No. Maybe? I haven’t done anything right so far. But it has only been a day… I have no idea what I’m doing though! What if I don’t have what it takes to be a leader? What if I don’t have what it takes to be a Huntress at all? The headmaster had righted himself back to his full height before derailing her train of thought.

             “Being a Team Leader isn’t just a title you carry into battle, but a badge you wear constantly. If you are not always performing at your absolute best, then what reason do you give others to follow you?” That makes sense, I guess. He turned away from her, staring out the window at the fractured moon as he gestured back to her with his mug.

             “You’ve been burdened with a daunting responsibility Ms. Rose. I advise you take some time to think about how you will uphold it.” Ruby opened her mouth to reply but the Headmaster was already walking away. He stopped and turned on his heel. “Might I recommend the gardens around the corner?” Ruby raised an eyebrow again. Beacon has gardens? I guess it makes sense, not everyone is going to be training or in class all the time. “It’s a place I’ve always found that has a way of… putting things into perspective.”

             Ruby shrugged but followed after the man. The walk was short and silent, but it let the silver-eyed reaper have a bit of time to think about the garden back at her home in Patch. Her mom used to love planting peonies and magnolias every year, she said they acted as a great de-stressor after being out hunting Grimm. Her dad asked once why they never planted roses, like her namesake. Summer laughed and said that roses were a bit too pretentious and pointy for her tastes. She’d spend hours out there every week, making sure that they all lined up just the way she wanted, that every one of them got the perfect amount of water and sunlight. They were always so colorful and fragrant, so full of life. Just like she was.

             When she died, so too did her garden. Ruby was too young to do anything about it, Yang had to double her roles as big sister and house mom. Dad still had to work and when he was home, he wasn’t concerned about plants. After the garden withered away, it was like Summer did too, making the pain of her loss all the worse. Every day, a petal would fall from the flowers, the stems would wilt just a tad more, and the soil would dry to near desert levels. One day though, several hours after a summer storm that left their yard a cluttered mess of broken sticks and muddy water, a single white peony sat in the middle of the garden, surrounded by rotting wood and decaying flowers.

             It was like her mother had been reincarnated and was telling them that sometimes, good things come out of the bad. With every storm, there came a rainbow. From that day on, Ruby tried to pick up where her mom left off, with her dad’s help. Yang pitched in when she could, but flowers were never something she took to all that well. Together they planted hundreds of flowers over the years. Magnolias to lilacs to jasmine to plumerias and everything in between. This year, she and her dad were set to plant sunflowers, but Headmaster Ozpin offered her a spot at Beacon with Yang and the flowers fell to the deep recesses of her mind.

             Rounding the corner with Headmaster Ozpin, they came face to face with a large glass domed room. Moonlight streamed in from up above, casting the world in a soft blue glow. There was a red brick pathway they led to the center of the room where a small stone area was nearly encircled by plants, flowers, and even a full sized Mistralian Maple Tree. Underneath the weeping scarlet leaves, sat a massive man in a short sleeved pale green robe with a pair of dark brown pants. His hair was shaved nearly to the scalp and his skin was lightly tanned.  His legs, easily the size of tree trunks, were folded under him and his eyes were closed. Hands big enough to encapsulate the world clasped together, attached to arms packed to the brim with thick cords of solid muscle. The headmaster seemed to recognize him.

             “Ahh, Mr. Daichi. I didn’t expect to find you here at this time of night.” The man opened his eyes and Ruby saw that they were the color of brown sugar, something that complimented his smile quite well.

             “Good evening Headmaster. I’m sorry if I’m intruding. I can be out of your way in a moment.” He made a move to get up but Ozpin shook his head after taking a sip from his mug.

             “You’re doing nothing of the sort, please continue.” The man, Mr. Daichi, inclined his head and lapsed back into his spot. Ozpin turned back to Ruby. “Do you see what I mean Ms. Rose? This is a truly peaceful place, perfect to collect one’s thoughts.” Ruby nodded as she looked around the room.

             “This place is amazing.” She was taking in as many of the flowers as possible. There was a patch of gorgeous red spider lilies to her right and soft purple hydrangeas across from them that looked stunning in the moonlight. Headmaster Ozpin hummed in agreement before gesturing to the man in the middle of the room.

             “You can thank Mr. Daichi here for much of this.” Mr. Daichi smiled softly again, his eyes still shut.

             “Thank you, Headmaster.” Ruby felt her eyes go wide. One person did all this!? This must’ve taken forever!

             “You did all this by yourself?” The man in pale green shook his head, looking up to her.  

             “Not exactly.” He chuckled, a sound like a stone rolling down a hill. “The groundskeeping crew does a wonderful job in their own right and my team helps me from time to time.”

             “Don’t be modest Mr. Daichi, this room wasn’t much before you started attending Beacon.” Wait, what?

             “Wait, he’s a student here!?” The Headmaster smiled and nodded.

             “Yes, he is.”

             “I’m a second year with Team CFVY. My name is Yatsuhashi Daichi, it is a pleasure to meet you.” He pushed himself to his feet, striding towards the pair. If Ruby thought he was massive when he was sitting down, he was positively immense at his full height. He was easily the largest person she’d ever met. Taller than her dad or uncle Qrow, even taller than Headmaster Ozpin himself, and easily twice as broad. Ruby looked at the massive hand in front of her, trying to reboot her mind. Shaking her head, she placed her hand in his, squeezing gently.

             “Ruby… uhh Rose. I’m Ruby Rose.” He chuckled into his other hand.

“It’s nice to meet you Ruby Rose.” He pulled his hand back before looking to the Headmaster. “Is there anything I can do for you both tonight or may I go back to my meditation?” The white-haired man was silent for a second as he took another sip from his mug.

             “Actually Mr. Daichi, there may be something you can do for us.” He cocked an eyebrow. “You see, Ms. Rose here is having some trouble getting acclimated to being a Team Leader.” His other eyebrow joined the first further up his head.

             “Oh, she’s a student here? I assumed, since she was so small, that she was your niece or maybe a potential student for next year.” Ruby stomped her foot, her face twisting into an angry frown.

             “I’m not that small! I’m just… still growing is all” Her mind harkened back to something her mother used to tell her about growing big and strong. “I drink milk.” She straightened her back and pointed to herself. Headmaster Ozpin gave a small laugh before nodding.

             “Yes, Ms. Rose here is indeed a student. Admitted two years early albeit, but a student nonetheless.” The larger man inclined his head towards Ruby.

             “I’m sorry then, I meant no offense. You must be very skilled to be accepted two years early.” Ruby began to falter. This is exactly what she didn’t want. She wasn’t special, she had normal knees!

             “What? No. I mean, I’m pretty good, I guess. But I’m just a normal girl with.” She lifted the hem of her skirt a bit. “Normal knees. See?” As soon as she did, she turned a deep scarlet. No no no no no! Now they both think I’m weird… stupid stupid stupid! A deep chuckle dragged her from her self-loathing and she looked to see Yatsuhashi wiping a tear from his eye.

             “Yes, I can see you have very normal knees.” The Headmaster smiled and nodded.

             “Indeed. Back to the matter at hand though. Maybe you can talk with her about how to be a good leader from the perspective of someone not in that position.” The larger man nodded.

             “I shall do my best.” He turned to Ruby. “Please, come sit with me.” He took her back to the place he was resting earlier as Headmaster Ozpin made his exit, claiming to have some paperwork to attend to. The massive student eased himself to the stone floor, gesturing for Ruby to sit across from him. He crossed his legs and Ruby did the same, her eyes travelling to the large tree that they sat under. It stood around fifteen feet high with a relatively thin trunk and drooping branches tipped with bright red leaves. He leaned back against the trunk with a soft sigh. “The Headmaster said you’re having trouble in your new position.” She nodded.

             “It’s just… I’ve never been a leader of, well, anything before. My partner hates me already, she might even try and get me removed from the spot, and I don’t know if I think that’s a bad idea.” She shifted, tucking her knees under her chin, staring at the stone. “It’s only been two days and I haven’t done anything right. I don’t know if I’m cut out for being a Leader.”

             “Ruby,” He paused. “May I call you Ruby?” She nodded and he accepted the action. “When you decided to become a Huntress, were you as good then as you are now?” She shook her head. “As I suspected. What makes you think you’ll be a great leader on your first day?” She shrugged. “Some people are naturally inclined to lead but others pick up things along the way and grow into the role. For example.” He pulled out his Scroll, tapping the screen and bringing up a stream of pictures. He paused on one and showed it to her. “Do you see that girl in the beret? That’s Coco Adel, my Team Leader.” Ruby studied the girl. She looks so cool! She could feel the confidence the girl had, even from just a picture. It was in everything. The flashy outfit, the subtle look from over the top of her sunglasses, her pose, the way her arms were draped over a girl with bunny ears and a boy with white eyes and red hair. Coco commanded the attention of all in view.

             “When Team CFVY was first formed, I found Coco to be…” His face contorted as he tried to find the words. “Insufferable.” Ruby cocked her head to the side.

             “What do you mean?” He slipped his Scroll back into the pocket it came from before folding his hands in his lap.

             “She was brash, arrogant, and bossy. She wanted all of us to follow her orders without question, we were more like objects to her than people. We let this go on for nearly two weeks. We didn’t want to be seen as a team that couldn’t stand together, so we went along with Coco all the while loathing her. It wasn’t until Velvet, the Faunus girl in the photo I showed you, put her foot down. She demanded input with what we did as a team and that we should all be treated with respect. Coco was stunned at first, she had thought she was doing all of that. But we sat her down and talked out our problems, we set boundaries and expressed our feelings. From that day on, things got exponentially better. We all came together as a proper team and now, I wouldn’t trade any of them for anything.” He smiled at the memory, eyes glancing over to Ruby.

 “My point is, Coco was very much a bad leader in the beginning. She had to learn how to lead by getting input from her teammates, whether she wanted it or not.” Ruby chewed on his words for a while as silence reigned in the gardens.

 “So, you’re saying I should just ask them what I should do?” He gave a noncommittal shrug that caused Ruby to narrow her gaze at him.

 “I don’t think it could hurt.” Her eyebrows furrowed for a moment.

 “How do I do ask them?” He smiled, head tilted to the side.

 “I’m afraid I can’t be of much help with that but I’m sure you’ll think of something. Good luck, Ruby Rose.” With that, his eyes closed, and his breathing became near imperceptible. Any other questions died on her lips and the silver-eyed reaper pushed herself to her feet, brushing her skirt off. She stuck out a hand in front of her, holding it there for a full seven seconds before realizing that his eyes were closed. She stuttered out an apology before scurrying to the door she entered through.

 “Thanks, Natsu… Yansu-... Yatu-…?” She shook her head.  “Thank you!” In her wake, a string of rose petals littered the floor as the large man sat there, a content smile on his face.

  “Well, it’s not the worst misnaming I’ve ever heard.”

[sitesbumble82]

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Women

African-Americans

Alaskan Natives

American Indians

Hispanic

Asian

Native Hawaiians and Pacific Islanders.

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Direct Loanmaking Handbook 3-FLP (PDF, 2.40 MB)

Application Forms*

*Loan application forms for Beginning Farmers are the same as those used by non-beginning farmer applicants. Please select the applicable loan type for applicable Farm Loan application forms.

Simultaneous requests for a direct farm ownership loan and a direct operating loan should be combined on a single application form.

When you meet with your FSA county Farm Loan Program staff, you may be asked to complete additional forms based on applicable loan program requirements for the loan type.

Loan Types

Loans to historically underserved and women farmers and ranchers are not a special type of loan program or loan type. Rather, this designation refers to a specific funding source known as Socially Disadvantaged Applicant (SDA) funding. To be considered for targeted funding, loan applicants must voluntarily provide race, ethnicity, and gender information.

You do not have to choose between identifying as an historically underserved individual or a beginning farmer, nor is there a 'benefit' of deciding between one designation over the other. Identifying yourself as an historically underserved beginning farmer loan applicant is completely acceptable.

Loan Application Process

To be considered for targeted 'SDA' loan funding, loan applicants must voluntarily provide his or her ethnicity, race and/or gender on the loan application. Otherwise, the Agency's loan process and loan requirements are identical for all loan applicants. There is no difference between historically underserved and women applicants and those who do not fall under this funding allocation other than the availability of targeted funding.

Down Payment Loan

The Direct Farm Ownership Down Payment loan is the only loan program specifically for historically underserved and women farmers and beginning farmers. Down Payment loan funds may be used only to partially finance the purchase of a family farm. Loan applicants must contribute a minimum downpayment of 5 percent of the purchase price of the farm and the Agency will finance 45 percent to a maximum loan amount of $300,000. The balance of the purchase price not covered by the down payment loan and the loan applicant's down payment may be financed by a commercial lender (pdf, 563KB), private lender, a cooperative, or the seller.

Additional Information

We encourage you to contact your local office or USDA Service Center to learn more about our programs. You should also be able to locate a listing in the telephone directory in the section set aside for governmental/public organizations under the U.S. Department of Agriculture, Farm Service Agency. Our local FSA office staffs are happy to help you and discuss our loan programs with you in more detail.

In 2013, the United States Department of Agriculture (USDA) released a report on female farmers that contained what appeared to be some very good news: the share of farms operated by women had nearly tripled in the thirty years between 1978 and 2007.

Understandably, the media covered this development as a sign of real progress. Headlines from Grist and USA Today gushed that women were 'breaking the grass ceiling,' while NPR, The New York Times, and other national publications ran similarly upbeat stories. In 2014, USDA released data from the 2012 Census of Agriculture showing that there had been a small drop in the number of female farmers between 2007 and 2012, but that still hasn't slowed the celebratoryarticles about the growing number of women in agriculture.

A closer look at the data, however, presents a much more troubling story. Instead of ushering in the era of the female farmer, the last 40 years have seen little progress in female farm ownership--and potentially some serious backsliding.

These data are incomplete--as I'll discuss shortly--but what we can glean from the available data is discouraging. Since 1978:

the number of young female farmers has likely fallen;(1)

fewer women appear to be making a living from farming;(2) and

there's evidence that the income disparity between male and female farmers has grown.(3)

And while we don't know how many female farmers were able to support themselves solely through farming in 1978, we do know that only an exceptionally small number of them can today. Fewer than 3% of our country's almost 200,000 'commercial' farmers--those farmers most likely to operate stable, financially successful businesses--are female.(4)

This is in part why the average female farmer only makes $2,560 each year, while the average male farmers makes $42,731--nearly 17 times as much.(5)

And to add to this list of discouraging facts, the average female farmer is just over 60 years old--two years older than the average farmer, and about 15 years older than the average physician.(6)

If things have gotten worse for female farmers, then why is the Agricultural Census reporting such a large increase in their number?

He can expect to earn 17 times as much as his female colleagues.

Prior to 2002, the Agricultural Census massively undercounted small and mid-sized farms, which make up the bulk of female-owned farms. In 1997, for example, USDA calculated that they were almost twice as likely to miss a female farmer when conducting the Census than a male one.(7) While only 9% of the farmers counted in the Census were female, USDA estimated that the actual percentage of female farmers in the United States was likely closer to 15%.(8)

This alone may explain most of the 'increase' in female farmers we've seen in recent census counts. In the last two censuses, female farmers made up about 14% of the total farmer count--slightly under the USDA's 1997 estimate.

Our conception of what constitutes 'farming' has also changed considerably since 1978. Forty years ago, rural women that raised horses or sold agricultural products to their friends and neighbors generally weren't considered farmers.

That's no longer true. About 60% of the women farmers in the 2012 Agricultural Census sold fewer than $5,000 of agricultural goods in the previous year.(9) These women are much more likely to call themselves farmers today then they would have been in 1978, as are their neighbors and the US government.

This is a positive development--many of them are providing significant benefits to their families and regional food systems--but this change in norms also makes it much more difficult to compare older census data sets to contemporary ones. We just don't have any way of knowing how many women in 1978 were 'farmers' by today's standards. As a result, it's difficult to know whether the number of female farmers has actually increased, and if so, by how much.

As women have won additional rights over the last 40 years, farm policy has ironically made it increasingly difficult for them to achieve financial independence through farming. If we continue our current policy trajectory--in which only the largest farms provide a decent income--then we're unlikely to ever see a significant increase in the number of truly independent female farmers.

The grass ceiling remains safe for now.

(1) The number of women operators under 25 counted in the census has fallen since 1978, while the number of women operators under 35 has stayed about the same. As discussed below, however, the 1978 census significantly undercounted female farmers, meaning that the actual number of female farmers under 35 has almost certainly fallen. Bureau of the Census, U.S. Dep't of Commerce, 1978 Census of Agriculture 38 tbl. 31; Nat'l Agric. Statistics Serv., USDA, 2012 Census of Agriculture tbl. 57 (2014).

(2) The number of women selling over approximately $10,000 (in 2015 dollars) in agricultural goods has declined. Bureau of the Census, U.S. Dep't of Commerce, 1978 Census of Agriculture 210 tbl. 44; Nat'l Agric. Statistics Serv., USDA, 2012 Census of Agriculture tbl. 57 (2014).

(3) There are no publicly available data on farm income by gender from 1978, however the disparity in the annual average value of agricultural products sold by individual male and female farmers has increased significantly. In 1978, the percentage of female farmers selling more than roughly $10,000 (in 2012 dollars) in agricultural products was only 9% below the national average. By 2012, this gap had almost doubled, reaching 17%.

(4) Nat'l Agric. Statistics Serv., USDA, 2012 Census of Agriculture: Farm Typology 8 tbl.1 (2015); see also Econ. Research Serv., USDA, America's Diverse Family Farms 7 (2015) (discussing the financial performance of various farm types).

(5) Nat'l Agric. Statistics Serv., USDA, Special Tabulation 23287 (Dec. 10, 2015) (on file with author).

Farmers Only Women Images

(6) Nat'l Agric. Statistics Serv., USDA, 2012 Census of Agriculture: Race, Ethnicity, and Gender Profiles 2 (2014).

(7) Nat'l Agric. Statistics Serv., USDA, 1997 Census of Agriculture: History 95 tbl.7-4 (2002).

Farmers Only Browse Women

(9) Nat'l Agric. Statistics Serv., supra note 6.

[puthyflapps]

Money Honey

@marcingestesmemes sent me this prompt today: “You asked for a prompt, so here’s my idea. In most of the fanfics, clexa is always on a superior social status. Whether in terms of money or power. Some of them have Clarke, but not enough. For this prompt, they are on equal footing. Clarke is new money rich, dad is a successful engineer/entrepreneur, mom runs a hospital. Lexa is old money rich, I’m talking Rockefeller type. Finger in a lot of pies type of wealth. The rest is up to you.”

Hope you enjoy

Send me more prompts and headcanons

Boring. That’s how these events usually were. Every year was the same. All of D.C.’s wealthiest families gathered together in the same posh building to spend one night together bragging about just how wealthy they were. The whole night was full of nothing but entitled, ultra-wealthy people, bosting about how much money they made that year or which ivy league school they bought their child’s way into. Old money or new money, it didn’t matter as long as you had it. And Clarke Griffin had it.

The 22-year-old was the sole heiress to her parent’s fortune. Jacob Griffin had made his money in engineering. The MIT Alum had formed his own company with close friends shortly after graduating from the prestigious university. In no time, the business had exploded. Griffin Tech Co. was now one of the largest engineering companies in the world. From cars to gadgets, to buildings, they were the go-to party. In fact, Griffin Tech Co. had constructed this very hotel that hosted these annual galas; a tragically ironic fact.

But, it is to be said that Clarke’s father isn’t the only breadwinner in the family. Her mother, Abigail, graduated at the top of her class from Johns Hopkins and is now the Chief of Surgery at one of D.C.’s most renowned hospitals – Griffin Memorial. Abby practically lived at the hospital. She lived and breathed surgeries. Clarke had spent so much of her childhood in the halls of that hospital that for the longest time she thought her name was code blue. Clarke had always admired her mother’s commitment to the job. To feel so inspired to do the very best every single day, to save lives and give the unfortunate a second chance was extremely admirable. Her mom was a hero to many including Clarke.

But Clarke, unlike her parents, saw herself as nothing more than average. She didn’t attend an ivy league school like her parents did. She attended a liberal arts school and she got average grades and had average friends and an average social life. That was the way she liked living. Although she had been groomed from the time she was a baby up until she sent off her last college application to be a doctor, that wasn’t what she wanted. When she had told her parents she wanted to be an artist they were less than enthused. Both STEM majors had taken their time explaining why they thought Clarke should reconsider. A combination of you’ll never be able to use that degree and honey, don’t you know that artists don’t make any money these days, had been tossed her way on more than one occasion. But, it had been her dream from the time she was a little girl drawing, pictures for the patients on her mom’s floor, to be an artist.

Perhaps, that’s why her parents dragged her to this ungodly event. To show her what she’s missing out on – which was nothing more than watching Chad from Kappa Delta talk about how many beers he could chug before puking while Amber from her old high school raves about how she and Gregory are expecting yet another baby and what a gift from God that is. If it wasn’t obnoxious, privileged young adults from the suburbs of D.C. spewing their ill-informed political views then it was creepy old men harassing her all night in hopes of somehow luring her to their bed. How on earth did her parents find these types of events fun? Maybe she would have fun at these events if her parents bragged about her the way the Donohouges bragged about how their son, Collin, would soon be taking over the family business. Maybe she’d enjoy herself a tad bit more if her mother went on about all her accomplishments nonstop like Mrs. Schultz did about her daughter. Maybe she would have the tiniest bit of a good time if her parents would just say they’re proud of her.

God, she needed a drink.

The only thing that made it worth stuffing herself into an uncomfortable cocktail dress that irritated her porcelain skin and designer heels that made the arches of her feet ache was the booze at these types of affairs. Rich people had good booze and this celebration was no exception. The ever-flowing champagne flutes and open bar set in the corner of the large ballroom was her only saving grace this evening. Now, to navigate her way through the crowd without getting trapped into a conversation with the Cohens about how Duke would love to have her in their medical program or how Mr. Turner would love to introduce her to his eldest son. Bracing herself, Clarke adjusts the straps of her black dress and turns swiftly on her heels in the direction of the bar. She marches quickly and precisely through the crowd, dodging questions thrown at her from her parent’s nosy coworkers and blocking any wandering hands and ignoring all lust-filled glances from strangers that would love to say they slept with the Griffin’s only daughter.

Nearing her destination, she can see the bar and the myriad of glasses littering its top. She’s so close she can almost taste the alcohol on her lips and feel the familiar burn in her throat from the delicious liquid. She has almost found her way into one of the several stools sat around the bar when something – or rather, someone – catches her eye.

She’s tall with broad shoulders highlighted by the expensive white material of her dress shirt. The fitted material of her black pants hug her hips and give Clarke a lovely view of her toned backside. Her chestnut hair cascades down her back in intricate braids as she stands behind the bar, back turned to the blonde as her gaze flows over the vast amount of alcohol available for tonight’s event. Clarke slides into a stool as she watches one of the brunette’s strong forearms rise up to the top shelf. Long, sinewy fingers wrap around the neck of one of the many bottles. A soft aha slips past the brunette’s lips as she brings the bottle closer for inspection before turning around.

Cerulean blue eyes meet startled verdant.

If Clarke thought the woman was attractive from behind, she certainly wasn’t prepared for how gorgeous she was face to face. The brunette had strong cheekbones and a razor-sharp jawline. Perchance, Clarke’s favorite feature of the woman’s face so far was her pillowy lips that if you looked close enough, had a small singular freckle adorning the top lip. She was absolutely stunning and Clarke now needed that drink more than ever.

The taller of the two women cleared her throat; placing the bottle of what appeared to be cognac on the table before breaking the silence between them.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see you there. What can I get you?”

Lightly shaking her head to clear her mind of her less than proper thoughts about the bartender Clarke responds, “I uh, I guess I’ll have what you’re having.” The blonde notices the slight twinge of the brunette’s lip as she tries to hide her smirk. She watches patiently as the woman nervously prepares the drinks. The timid shaking in her hands as she filled the crystal glasses pulled at the blonde’s heartstrings.  

“So, what brings you here?” the woman behind the bar asks as she slides the freshly made beverage carefully across the bar top into the seated woman’s hand. At this moment Clarke truly wishes she would’ve taken more time getting ready this evening seeing as though there was still remnants of paint underneath her fingernails from today’s earlier activities.

“To the gala or to the bar?” Clarke asks around the rim of her glass before taking a long drawl of the drink.

“Hmmm, both?” the tan woman asks tipping her drink in the blonde’s direction before taking a swig of the dark brew.

“Well, as for the gala, my parents dragged me here. But, the bar, that was all my own doing. I don’t know if I can listen to another person brag about the size of their yacht one more time without being shit faced.”

“I take it, this isn’t your kind of crowd.”

“No, not at all” the blonde chuckles; her words laced with bitterness.

“Are you telling me that pissing competitions don’t excite you?” the brunette asks jokingly. Her smile growing wider when the woman in front of her rolls her eyes and lets out an exaggerated scoff. The taller woman moves to rest her arms on the bar top as the shorter woman takes another sip of her beverage and tries to ignore the fluttering in her chest. The bartender drags her jade eyes up and down the blonde’s body admiring the generous amount of skin shown by the lowcut dress. The brunette had encountered many types of women this evening but none as intriguing as the one sat before her with beautiful golden locks, ocean blue eyes, and paint-stained hands.

“Well, if you don’t mind me asking, what does excite you?” the double meaning of the question is not missed by Clarke who is trying her hardest not to blush at the forwardness of the golden skinned woman. When her mother and father told her about this event tonight it was the absolute last thing she wanted to deal with. She had no desire to attend an event where she was looked down upon and shopped around to all the single bachelors. But now, sitting here, drink in hand, gazing into the warm emerald eyes across from her, she’s starting to not regret making an appearance at this event.

Clarke downs the rest of her drink loving the way it burns her throat in that familiar way before leaning her torso against the bar and muttering, “mmm, why don’t you come out from behind this bar and find out.”

She watches the wheels turn in the nameless woman’s head; contemplating whether or not to take Clarke up on her offer. Undoubtedly trying to decide whether or not she wanted to involve herself in the mess that is the young heiress. But, Clarke is a little tipsy thanks to the free-flowing alcohol at the party and now she’s horny so waiting isn’t an option for the young woman.

“I mean if you’re not up to it I’m sure one of these former frat boys will do.”

The statement flips a switch in the brunette. Whatever reservations she had about hooking up with a stranger at this gala are thrown to the wind. She licks her plump lips in anticipation of what’s to come once she rounds the bar. Thoughts of what she is planning to do to the blonde flood her head causing heat to pool in her stomach. Would she take her in the bathroom or a nearby closet? Maybe they could score a room somewhere in the extravagant hotel. Who knows but, if she doesn’t figure it out soon she might just take her on this very bartop, in front of the ballroom full of guests with prying eyes. Just when she’s about given up on thinking anything out fully she hears the last thing she was expecting.

“Alexandria! What are you doing behind there?” asks the recognizable voice of her mother. The sudden addition of third voice startles the blonde. She turns in the direction of the voice and feels her heart drop to her stomach.

There in all her pristine glory stands Indra Woods. Indra Woods who is the CEO of Woods Inc., the largest company in North America and soon to be the largest company in the world. Indra Woods, whose family has made their money in the oil business and technology and everything else in between. The Woods family is worth billions. The Woods net-worth makes Clarke’s family look penniless – a task most might believe to be impossible.

“Mother, what a surprise seeing you here,” the young brunette, now known as Alexandria, states with a cheeky smile. Her mother didn’t seem to find the scenario as amusing as her daughter.  

“Why are you playing bartender and more importantly why are you bothering this nice young woman?” asks the older ebony skinned woman with a warm smile on her face as she subtly addresses the blonde.

“Oh, no. She wasn’t bothering me, Ms. Woods. We were just chatting about the gala.”

“Please, call me Indra. I was speaking with your parents earlier and they said that you’re an artist, is that correct?” the older woman inquires while Clarke attempts to pay no mind to the green gaze currently pointed in her direction.

“That’s correct ma'am”

“That’s wonderful. We’re thinking of expanding the digital division of the company and we’re looking into recruiting some graphic designers. I’d love to see some of your work and perhaps offer you a job at the company.”

“Oh wow, wow. Um, yes! Yes, I’d love that. Thank you so much.” To say Clarke was shocked would be an understatement. She couldn’t help the smile that stretched across her face as she thought about the business woman’s proposition.

“How should I contact you?” asks the excited artist. The Woods matriarch smiles coyly before replying, “I’m sure Lexa can help you with that.” Casting a warning but, all together motherly glance at her daughter as a reminder to behave, Indra politely leaves the two women to continue on with their night.

“When were you gonna tell me you’re an artist?” Lexa asks when the blonde turns back to her. Clarke can’t help the laugh that escapes her lips at the absurdity of the question.

“Excuse me, when were you going to tell me that you’re a Woods? No, actually, when were you going to tell me you don’t work here?” the blonde asks feeling the weight of embarrassment settle on her shoulders as she thinks about how she just assumed the Woods heiress was a part of the waitstaff.

The brunette shrugs her shoulders as she smirks at the flustered woman before her. “I thought we were having fun.”

“I think you have a skewed view of what ‘fun’ is,” the blonde jokes.

“You might be right but, if you’re still looking for some excitement tonight,” Lexa replies, reaching into her pocket and producing a room key to one of the many lavish rooms in the 5-star hotel, “we could have some real fun.”

Clarke stares at the matte black key card perched between two tan fingers contemplating the offer before plucking the small object out of Lexa’s hand and whispering into her ear to grab the bottle of cognac they had previously been indulging in. They were gonna have some fun tonight.      

[honeybuddhachats]

Headcanon on how the RFA members met MC if she had never joined...

Yoosung: • Two words: Gaming. Convention. • Yoosung (dressed up as his LOLOL character) had decided to spend a few days at one of the largest conventions the country had to offer • HUNDREDS and HUNDREDS of people (possibly even thousands, yoosung couldn’t possibly count ALL of the cool cosplayers, artists, and fellow gamers. like wowowow how is he not lost already?) • Haha... actually he does get lost on his search for a convention panel involving some creators of LOLOL he is not missing this for the world where is the map??? • He’s asking directions, trying to find out where it is, seriously there’s SO MANY PEOPLE AND THIS PLACE IS SO BIG AND- • Is.. is that a LOLOL duelist mage cosplayer??? The armor looks so realistic • He totally forgets about the panel, and is totally stunned by this cosplay. It must’ve cost a FORTUNE! • Yoosung has to get an autograph... no no a picture would be a better so he can show off this really cool cosplay • “Hi! I’m Yoosung!” • The cosplayer looks up at him with a smile. “I’m player Cosmic Blade...” with an even sheepish look “But today I’m just MC” • WoooOOAH! Yoosung is totally impressed. Not only a talented cosplayer, but a gamer too! Is this what love at first sight is??? Heart eyes!!! • MC smiles making a comment about how nice his own cosplay is • Double heart eyes!!! • “Let’s head over to the LOLOL panel, they’re starting soon, and if we’re lucky we could get an autograph from the producer!” • Yoosung’s heart is thumping so fast he’s on the verge of fainting. How cool is MC??? Pretty cool!!

Zen: • It was no surprise that once the weather had turned nice, Zen went out for a jog at a nearby park • While jogging around the pond, everyone could see the couple STRUGGLING on the swan boat. It was super hard to miss them  • Gawking, stifling laughs from fellow park goers “WOW OH WOW do you know how to peddle or what?” • It was so distracting that he didn’t even realize the collision that was about to happen on land • SMACK! • Zen had run headfirst into another jogger • Due to his size, the other jogger had fallen flat on their ass, a little dizzy and confused. While he was fine trying to quickly recollect his thoughts • Oh zen, you done it now. What kind of an actor knocks over a... girl??  • He’s startled to find out he's knocked over a girl • OH BOY ZEN • He starts to panic a bit, apologizing profusely and helping her up. and then continues to apologize once again.  • what kind of actor just pushes down a cute girl you should be ashamed of yourself • “I’m okay. I’m okay!” she responds • sigh of relief • Okay still, Zen feels horrible about the entire situation there has to be something he can do • LIGHTBULB • “The least I can do is give you a free ticket to one of my performances. I’m Zen. An actor.” • She looks interested... sayyessayyes anndddd there’s the head nod we are good to go “That sounds like fun, Zen. I’m MC~!”

Jumin: • He still doesn’t understand why he needs to go to the store when he already has a tailor • well Jumin, your tailor needs you to come into the store so he can make sure the measurements are correct since the last suit he sent you was a little too short • *sigh okay* • as he walks into the expensive shop, he’s prepared to see his tailor waiting but what catches his eye is the girl wearing the cat sweater • oh where on god’s green earth did she acquire that?? • he simply must have it!! • she catches him staring and is embarrassed for staring so intently at the suits “ah hello. welcome. how can i help?” she meshes her words together at a rapid pace • ah yes, ask her about the tailor maybe she knows where he went “where did you buy that sweater?” wrong question try again “cats are such lovely creatures.” still incorrect • “they definitely are!” it seems she’s more relaxed “I bought it from the thrift store” • “thrift... store?” jumin han is not aware of a thrifty store • “yes....” change the subject remember you are in an overpriced suit shop “do you have a cat?” • and here comes the long, yet delightful conversation about cats that lasts for a quite a while • Such a while that jumin doesn’t realize his tailor has returned from the back of the store “Mr. Han, I see you’ve met MC. She watches the store when I’m away from the desk” • jumin nods, perhaps he should get fitted for suits more often, if only to spend some more time with the person who loves cats just as much 

Jaehee: • Jaehee was not expecting to be running amok due to Jumin scheduling a meeting last minute • It’s a Saturday who talked Jumin into another idea?? • She is such a carful planner how did this happen so suddenly??? One second it was work next second it was BAM MORE WORK, LESS TIME TO DO SAID WORK • SO as soon as she got the news Jaehee leaves the coffee shop she was spending a nice Saturday morning at • Uh oh, the papers she’s carrying accidently get knocked down when a passing stranger bumps into her • ah shoot, now the papers all on the ground • ah... even better, someone else trips and their drink spilled • A+ day here people... everything is going splendidly great • “Oops! Really sorry about that!” it’s the first stranger who had knocked the papers down, and now she was picking them up carefully and handing them back to Jaehee “I can be so distracted sometimes with all the sights that go on around here.” • The frustrating feeling Jaehee had is starting to wither away a bit... • okay... but there’s still the issue of her soggy and soda-colored notes • “Ah, it looks like you’ll have to retype these,” the stranger frowns. “Let’s go to the library and I can help you.” • Jaehee tries to decline, but the stranger persists because after all, she was the one who caused the notes to drop which resulted in the current messy situation • *sigh* stranger wins this round, after all it’s just the library, and Jaehee can give her some “unimportant” stuff to type up • By the time the two of them were done, all the notes were typed up and a presentation created, Jaehee seemed to have a little more sunlight left than she is used to • “I’m MC! If I ever see you around the cafe again, I’ll have to buy you a drink!” • “I’m Jaehee, and I think I’ll take up the offer one of these days”

Seven: • It was an odd situation, this mission • Apparently some black market sellers were going to be at a karaoke bar tonight, and Seven’s company had requested he stop them • stand up comedy perhaps? • no no, that wouldn’t work he had to be in incognito mode for this • perhaps a distraction?? this is a karaoke bar after all, the person singing just had to be REALLY good or REALLY bad why isn’t zen here when he needs him • oh look! a group of friends walk in one of them should be perfect for the job! • “Could one of you go up there and sing beautifully... or horribly. Eh you can choose one” • immediately the friends turn to one girl in particular “MC. MC. MC” they start to chant her name, and even seven finds he’s chanting her name too despite the fact they’ve never met • “fine! i’ll do it!” and MC is off to sing in front of a large crowd • this is perfect! now seven can do his mission and no one gets hurt! • the music starts to play and seven gets into position and is this ... .. is this ‘baby got back’?? he looks over to see the friends laughing their heads but what makes seven burst out into laughter is MC’s disgruntled expression • but he’s SHOCKED to see see her singing her heart out in an exaggerated manner and in no time the entire bar notices and begins to chuckle and laugh • oh god maybe this wasn’t the best plan • now the song’s ended and everyone is screaming for MC to sing another song the same way, and seven swears his heart stops for a moment when MC lock eyes with him and smiles in that small millisecond of time before she goes to choose another song • omgomgomgomg he’s imagining things he has to be • she goes through four more songs before her friends have to drag her off the stage • by then, seven has gained all the information he needed and he’s just about to leave before he feels a tap on his shoulder oh no did someone catch him • nope, it’s just MC “are you going to sing?” • he gives her a sheepish smile “maybe. go ahead and choose one” and when she turns around to go choose, he slips away • by the time MC notices she’s a little disappointed, but internally knows that this won’t be the last time she sees him and is sure they’ll meet somewhere again

[obertsonpddamarispb86insura-blog]

What exactly are the benefits for the gerber life insurance?

What exactly are the benefits for the gerber life insurance?

What exactly are the benefits for the gerber life insurance?

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SOURCES:

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What exactly are the benefits for the gerber life insurance?

[talabib]

The Secrets Of True Leadership In Today’s World.

The world is changing more rapidly than ever. This means two things for leadership. First, it means that leaders are needed more than ever. Sure, in times of stability we can survive with just managers. But when facing the unknown, we need strong leaders to guide us through uncertainty. Second, a changing world means that leaders themselves need to stay agile.

Today’s secret to enduring success as a leader is the ability to be nimble and agile, and to leadershift: to make leadership changes that will boost not just the leader’s growth, but that of his or her organization.

This post will take you through the personal leadershifts  that make positive impact on organizations and on the world.

Great leaders bring out the best in everyone, rather than seeking to shine themselves.

Too many would-be leaders think mostly of themselves. Focused on their own goals and aspirations, they don’t realize that being a leader is not about what you can do for yourself; it’s about what you can do for others.

To be a true leader, you need to make the mind-set shift from me to we.

A great way to think of this is in terms of an orchestra. Many would-be leaders are stuck in the mind-set of the soloist – the elite performer whom everyone else serves. True leaders behave more like the conductor, focusing on how they can help everyone else produce a great result. After all, as South Korean cellist-turned-conductor Han-Na Chang says, conducting offers the opportunity to draw limitless potential from an entire group of people.

Key to making the shift from soloist to conductor is ensuring that you truly understand the people around you. One evening in Buenos Aires, Argentina, Malcolm was speaking on leadership, he was invited to watch two hundred people dance the tango, in perfect rhythm and harmony.

His host explained that the secret to the exquisite perfection on show was for each dance pair’s leader truly to understand his partner; to be able to lead effectively, you need to know what it’s like to be led. Well, the trust, cooperation and mutual understanding required to make the tango look beautiful are just as important in the world of work.

So just like any good conductor or tango lead, you should be focused on helping others to shine. You can do this by making sure you have the right attitude toward your people and your relationship to them. Center your leadership around their needs. Listen to them first, before you expect them to listen to you. Work out what your people do well, and compliment them on it. If you set out a big picture for your organization, make sure they are in it. And don’t just tell them your vision – invite them to help you achieve it.

These actions are simple. But they’ll only work if they’re backed with an intentionality that says, “My focus is to help others shine.” And none of this is to say that you shouldn’t focus on your own growth. You just need to do that in the right way. Let’s take a look at what that right way is.

Developing a growth mind-set is a better approach than focusing on hitting simple goals.

When Malcolm was a young church leader in a small town in Ohio, he set himself a goal of making his church the largest in the state. He doubled the size of his congregation in a single year. And by 1975, his church was recognized as the fastest-growing in Ohio.

But after celebrating, he started to reflect on his achievements. And what he realized was that the personal growth he had experienced along the way – his experience and understanding of leadership – was much more important than hitting his numerical goal of growing church membership. That led to another key leadershift: from a goal mindset to a growth mind-set.

A goal mind-set emphasizes achievement and status, whereas a growth mind-set values development and stretching oneself. A goal mind-set prioritizes hitting a target and asking how long it will it take to get there, whereas growth mind-sets simply ask, “How far can I take this?”

If you do adopt a growth mind-set, you may be surprised by the results you achieve. When Malcolm was younger, he met Elmer Towns, a Liberty University professor and someone he admired. He discovered that Towns had sold 110,000 books, and decided that selling that many copies of his own books would be his goal.

But in time, his shift from goals to growth occurred, and he focused instead on simply becoming a better writer, and not worrying about sales. Years later, his publisher presented him with a crystal trophy engraved with the words “one million books sold.” It turned out that by focusing on growth, he had achieved far more than he would ever have set for himself as a goal.

The key to embracing a growth mind-set is to have a teachable spirit. That means not just saying you want to learn, but taking practical steps to do so. Think of it like gardening: just wanting your garden to grow into something beautiful won’t achieve anything. You need to plan, prepare and work at cultivating it. So each day, recognize that opportunities to learn and grow are there, whatever you are doing and whoever you are with. Stay curious, and be intentional about learning.

And make sure other people with a growth mind-set surround you. Elmer Towns, who became a mentor to Malcolm, taught him something he called the hot-poker principle. Likening people with a growth mind-set to fire, he’d say that if you can keep your poker near the fire, it stays hot. Take it away, and after a while, it grows cold. Stay close to the fire.

Great leaders don’t simply climb up the ladder; through mentoring, they build ladders for others to climb.

You probably know one or two supposed leaders who are self-focused. The question at the forefront of their minds is, “How high up the ladder can I climb?” True leaders, however, make the shift from climbing up the ladder themselves to thinking about how they can build ladders for others.

Now, it’s certainly true that climbing the ladder successfully yourself is a prerequisite if you want to help others do the same. A good rule of thumb is to aim to be in the top ten percent of your chosen field. That’s the magic zone in which you’ll stand apart from the rest. Get to that top ten percent, and you can safely assume that you have a lot to offer others.

And that’s the best way to look at your success – as a great resource to use to help others. As Kevin Myers, leader of 12Stone, a Wesleyan church based in the US state of Georgia, says, true leaders want more for their people than they want from them.

So how can you build those ladders for others to climb? Well, if you’ve hit that magic top ten percent, then think about mentoring.

The first thing to do is decide whom to mentor. Think carefully. Time is limited, so if you can only invest in one or two people, they’d better be the right ones. To ensure you choose wisely, ask yourself a few key questions.

First, are these people just hopeful, or are they truly hungry for knowledge and learning? There are plenty of people in the world who hope for better things, but only a few who are hungry for it, who don’t simply say, “There should be a way,” but rather, “I’ll find a way.” Invest in these people.

Second, ask yourself whether your candidate has true leadership potential. That’s because a leader will influence many other people. So investing in shaping their future has a wider impact than if you mentored a follower.

Once you’ve selected your mentee, what should you offer that person? Well, any good mentor offers bite-sized truths distilled from the complexity of life, and options and considerations for the future.

Connecting with people achieves better results than simply directing them.

Malcolm witnessed the benefits of leadershifting from directing people to connecting with them when he visited the locker room of the University of Tennessee Lady Volunteers basketball team, coached by Pat Summitt, a legendarily successful coach.

When the players came in at half time, instead of talking to Summitt straight away, they huddled around a whiteboard on which were written three questions: What did we do right? What did we do wrong? and What should we change? Only after the team had discussed and agreed upon its answers did Summitt come and talk to them. She heard them out, reflected on their answers and made a few observations before sending them out onto the court for the second half of the game.

Too many leaders lead based on assumptions. Instead of assuming where her players were mentally and simply telling them what to do, Summit preferred truly to understand them by asking questions and listening to them.

Summit had made a leadershift to leadership based on connection, not direction – leadership that embraced collaboration rather than authority, and listening rather than talking. If you want to take the same step, you need to do the same. So learn to listen well.

Malcom spends a great deal of time in meetings, and if you are a leader, you probably do, too. So try out what Malcolm does. Every time you meet with someone, take out a pad to write notes. And at the top of that pad, write a big L, standing for “Listen.” That will act as a reminder that when you meet with people as a leader, your job is less to talk than to listen.

If you really want to improve your listening, tackle it with your growth mind-set. Be brave enough to ask your colleagues – or friends or family members – how good a listener you are, on a one-to-ten scale. Pay attention to their answers, and act on them. And ask them to let you know any time they feel you aren’t listening to them in the future.

Leading with connection is better for everybody. It leads to better relationships, better communication and a two-way flow of ideas. Embrace this leadershift, and you’ll soon start to see results flow.

Making the shift to valuing diversity will bring greater value and richness to your leadership and life.

When Malcolm was a young man, in Circleville, Ohio, there was absolutely nothing diverse about his environment. His community was almost completely white. The leaders in his protestant church were white men. They looked alike, and they acted alike. As a young pastor, conformity to tradition was drilled into him.

But over time, he came to realize that the most important lessons and insights often come from outside your own group. He learned this from his first discussions with a Catholic priest, who reinforced his faith, despite coming from a different denomination; and, later in life, from his move to Atlanta, a city rich in African-American culture and far removed from Circleville.

Similarly, teams are more effective and valuable when they embrace diversity, because diversity brings insight and perspective that can fill the knowledge gap. As a leader, you can’t know everything. You rely on your team to fill in those gaps, and it can do so most effectively when it brings different perspectives to the table.

If you need convincing, why not look to some of history’s great leaders? Abraham Lincoln built his cabinet from a very diverse group for that time. Its members were sworn political rivals, not allies. But the tough demands of the civil war required the skills of the best thinkers and diversity of perspective, not homogenous group thinking, if the Union was to be a success. Or look to Winston Churchill, Great Britain’s masterful wartime leader, who brought the leader of the opposition, Clement Attlee, into his cabinet and making Attlee instrumental in strategy meetings in his underground London bunker.

If you’d like to bring more diversity into your life, first take a critical look at your friendship and professional circles. If you are like most Americans, they likely reflect your age, social background and skin color. Cheryl Moses, founder of Urban MediaMakers, an organization in Atlanta dedicated to promoting diversity in the media-arts industry, was so struck by reading a study that stated that 75 percent of white Americans had no non-white friends that she decided to host an event called “Come Meet a Black Person,” focused on starting more diverse conversations and connections.

So if looking at your friends and contacts is a little too much like looking in the mirror, make an effort to get to know and to learn from people of different races, ages and political persuasions from you. You may be surprised by how refreshing it is to be surrounded by people with new, interesting and different ways of thinking from yours.

Embracing moral authority rather than positional authority is the pathway to great leadership.

Leadership is influence. But where does a leader’s influence come from?

Well, in his first weeks as pastor of a small church in Indiana, fresh out of college, Malcolm learned that influence doesn’t come from the position you hold. By the rules of the church, he was its leader. But as his first meeting of the church’s board kicked off, a respected farmer and church member, Claude, took command. Claude asked Malcolm to open the meeting with a prayer, and Malcolm then said almost nothing until Claude politely asked him for a closing prayer at the end of the meeting.

It was a tough, early lesson that titles do not equate to leadership. So Malcolm started thinking about what gave Claude influence. He wasn’t particularly rich, well-educated or impressive in any obvious way. But he had moral authority as a good, honest, fair and hardworking man who had lived these values with consistency for decades. Claude would never have called himself a leader, but he was. Every inch.

But what are the qualities inherent in moral authority? Well, integrity – the ability to align your actions with your words and live your values consistently – is important. Integrity makes you dependable and trustworthy – followable, in other words – in the eyes of your team because they know that you will do what you say you will, and that your actions are rooted in strong moral values. When we look at a moral hero like the late Nelson Mandela, we see someone we can rely on to behave in a way that is in line with his values, time and time again.

Also important is courage. That’s because acting with courage allows not just you but those around you to achieve their full potential as well.

You probably know the biblical story of the Israelite David and his defeat of the Philistine giant Goliath. What you may not know is that while David stepped out to meet the giant, the rest of the army of Israel, including its king, was hiding in fear. But David’s heroic courage inspired his fellow Israelites to find their own. With the giant slain, they stepped out of their fear and defeated the Philistines.

Combine courage with integrity, and you’ll be a leader people will be happy to follow, whatever the destination.

The best lives have meaning, so embrace the leadershift from career to calling.

According to a famous proverb, in the Middle Ages, a passerby came across three craftsmen at work and paused to ask them what they were doing. The first said that he was laying stones, the second that he was building a wall. The third? He replied, with a sense of pride, that he was creating a magnificent cathedral.

Some people do a job. Others have careers. And still, others are lucky enough to have found their callings in life. The members of this last group are the lucky ones, who have found something greater than themselves to pursue. As Presbyterian author and minister Frederick Buechner wrote in his 1973 book Wishful Thinking, they have found a place where their deep gladness intersects with one of the world’s deep needs.  

Wouldn’t you too like to discover a calling and a richer way forward in life, with a clear reason and purpose for living? Well, there’s no reason why you can’t. If you understand what a calling is, you will be well-placed to find your own.

The first thing to know about a calling is that it matches who you are. No one ever got called to something not suited to them. So ask yourself: Is there one thing that you could do for hours on end, that you would happily do for the rest of your life, and that can make a positive difference to others? If so, that might just be your calling.

The second thing is that your calling will be something you are passionate about. Malcolm was a fan of the advice of Harold Thurman, the famous African-American philosopher and civil rights leader. Thurman advised people not to ask what the world needs, but to ask what makes them come alive. Because what the world needs is people who are truly alive.

But remember that a calling isn’t just about you. The significance of a life dominated by a calling, and not just a career or a job, comes from giving, thinking and serving beyond yourself.

Live without a calling, and you are likely to feel a nagging anxiety that your life has not achieved its true meaning. Find it, and everything changes. Nothing else in life is as satisfying. Why do you think so many celebrities champion causes? They are pursuing the richness of life that can only come from a calling. Make the leadershift from career to calling, and a fulfilled life lies ahead of you.

The best leaders change and adapt. They leadershift – that is, they make leadership changes that boost both their own and their organization’s growth. They focus not just on directing but on connecting with their teams, and they pursue not just short-term goals and career moves, but deep personal growth, moral authority and their true calling in life.

 Action Plan: File away everything you learn. To maintain your personal growth and learning, file away whatever you learn. The same goes for quotations. Do the same, and you’ll always have access to the knowledge you’ve acquired and easily be able to reinforce your learning.

[republicstandard]

Archbishop Welby Hosts Muslim Leader Who Calls Homosexuality a "Disease"

“What will Christian pastors who accept homosexuality tell Jesus?” It was not a Christian, but a Muslim who asked this inflammatory question at the Islamic University of Syarif Hidayatullah, in South Tangerang, Indonesia in 2016.

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The Muslim asking this question was no ordinary Muslim. He is the most revered Sunni Muslim leader in the world. Sheikh Ahmed al Tayyeb is Grand Imam of Al-Azhar University in Egypt.

Over the last two days, Sheikh al Tayyeb has had the opportunity to ask the same question to the leader of 80 million Anglicans. If he had been as blunt as Donald Trump and popped the question to his host at Lambeth Palace, the Archbishop of Canterbury wouldn’t be tweeting his praises from the top of the minaret.

Tonight, the Grand Imam of Al-Azhar and I shared our gratitude and admiration for the Christian and Muslim #EmergingPeacemakers who have been with us at @LambethPalace this week. You are a sign of hope for our world. #EPForum18 pic.twitter.com/NgooMHEctx

— Archbishop of Canterbury (@JustinWelby) July 18, 2018

I thought the Lord Jesus Christ was the "hope for our world", not the Grand Imam of Al-Azhar! Unless, of course, Welby’s Muslim messiah is a tolerant and inclusive liberal, who is deep into "good disagreement" and "mutual flourishing" and who licked his fingers after tucking into a full English breakfast of bacon and black pudding at Lambeth Palace to prove his credentials.

But let’s not pour kerosene on the glowing embers of cynicism. Welby must have had good reasons to invite such a towering figure from the Muslim world. Things have been getting hot for Christians in Egypt. Copts, Anglicans and evangelical Christians are living in fear. The Religion of Peace is busy firebombing churches.

So after reading Donald Trump’s Art of the Deal, it is possible Welby could have invited the Sheikh to do a deal. “Let’s just shake on it, Sheikh, and we can all live in peace and write books together,” Welby might well be telling his Muslim counterpart. Sheikh al Tayyeb is just down the road at Al-Azhar Uni and because now that Welby is his pal and they follow each other on Twitter, all the Sheikh has to do is to issue a fatwa putting an end to Christianophobia in Egypt.

This morning we had an excellent meeting with the Grand Imam of @AlAzharUniv to discuss how religious leadership can be reimagined for the greater good of the world. #EPForum18 pic.twitter.com/lGyYW5lkdJ

— Archbishop of Canterbury (@JustinWelby) July 17, 2018

As President Donald Trump told the press following his meeting with Kim Jong Un: “Very good. Very, very good. Excellent relationship. We’ll solve the big problem, the big dilemma, that until this point has been unable to be solved. We will solve it. We will be successful. And I look forward to working on it with you. It will be done.”

Now if you are going to re-imagine religious leadership for the greater good of the world, you might begin by asking how to re-imagine a religion that believes in killing people who convert to another religion; the muslim apostates. Welby is passionate about evangelism. He set up his Task Group for Evangelism and Mission. Surely he would want to pop that question to Sheikh al Tayyeb?

So how do you think Sheikh al Tayyeb would re-imagine the concept of apostasy in Islam? You can find the Sheikh’s answer on several Egyptian TV channels and on the official YouTube Channel of Al-Azhar University, Sunni Islam’s most prestigious university. It is, of course, in Arabic.

Since Archbishop Justin speaks English and French, but not Arabic, I am supplying him with a link so he can listen to the liberal, inclusive, moderate and tolerant answer his new Muslim pal gives his Arabic-speaking audience.

The Sheikh doesn’t do Anglican fudge in front of his Muslim brethren. He gets straight to the point and gives the standard answer expected of any Islamic scholar. “The four schools of law all concur that apostasy is a crime, that an apostate should be asked to repent, and that if he does not, he should be killed.” Sheikh al Tayyeb goes on to deliver his exegesis of the relevant verses in the Quran and Hadith.

“There are two verses in the Quran that clearly mention apostasy, but they did not define a specific punishment. They left the punishment for the Hereafter, for Allah to punish them as He sees fit. But there are two hadiths [on apostasy]. According to the more reliable of the two, a Muslim can only be killed in one of three cases, one of which is abandoning his religion and leaving the community,” he says.

“We must examine these two expressions: ‘Abandoning religion’ is described as ‘leaving the community’. All the early jurisprudents understood that this applies to someone who leaves his religion, regardless of whether he left and opposed his community or not. All the early jurisprudents said that such a person should be killed, regardless of whether it is a man or a woman – with the exception of the Hanafi School, which says that a female apostate should not be killed,” he adds.

Feminists like Bishop Sarah Mullally, who was present at one of the meetings with Sheikh al Tayyeb and re-tweeted a picture of her sitting with other religious panjandrums, would surely ask the Sheikh to reimagine his idea of a woman.

I’m very grateful we were joined by #Anglican leaders from Egypt, Pakistan, Bangladesh and the Holy Land. They are confronting questions of hope and despair each day – and living out the love of Jesus Christ for the world. pic.twitter.com/3jXSy3sCWY

— Archbishop of Canterbury (@JustinWelby) July 17, 2018

Why? When the interviewer asks al Tayyeb why a female apostate should not be hacked to death, the Sheikh gives an answer that would give even the mildest feminist an apoplectic fit.

“Because it is inconceivable that a woman would rebel against her community,” he notes. The Sheikh knows his hadith. After all, one of the most authoritative hadiths, Sahih Bukhari cites Muhammad as saying, “‘Is not the evidence of two women equal to the witness of one man?’ They replied in the affirmative. He said, “This is the deficiency in her intelligence’” (6:301).

So our cuddly Sheikh needs to re-imagine religious freedom and women’s rights. Surely the Grand Imam has got it right on human rights? After all, human rights are as universal as unicorns, no?

Here’s what the Sheikh says in the interview: “The concepts of human rights are full of ticking time-bombs.” At least he is not so naïve to affirm that the West and the rest share the same values. “The problem is that the [Islamic and Western] civilizations are different. Our civilization is based on religion and moral values, whereas their civilization is based more on personal liberties and some moral values,” he tells his interviewer.

That is why Sheikh al Tayyeb is not going to make a donation to Stonewall and apologise to Peter Tatchell for the Islamic sport of throwing gays from rooftops to see if they can defy gravity. Good grief, never! After all, the Sheikh thinks homosexuality is a disease!

“My opinion was – and I said this [in the West] – that no Muslim society could ever consider sexual liberty, homosexuality and so on to be a personal right. Muslim societies consider these things to be diseases, which must be fought and treated.”

Treat homosexuality? Surely Justin Welby is going to introduce Sheikh al Tayyeb to the Anglican LGBT activist Jayne Ozanne and to Penny Mordaunt, the women and equalities minister, who says that conversion therapy –sometimes referred to as "gay cure"– is “abuse of the worst kind and must be stamped out”.

So what else does Sheikh al Tayyeb have to say about gay rights and Christianity? “Unfortunately some Heads of Churches in the United States accept same-sex marriages. What will the heads of Churches in the US that accept gay marriage say to Jesus? I wonder what is left of the Bible in those Churches. And what will they say in front of Jesus, peace be upon him,” the Grand Imam told an international meeting organized by the Muslim Council of Elders in Indonesia.

So what do Anglicans like Jayne Ozanne and Sarah Mullally and Theresa May think Archbishop Justin should say to Sheikh al Tayyeb? After all, at the beginning of this month, Mrs May vowed to eradicate the "abhorrent" practice of gay conversion therapy as she published the world’s largest LGBT+ survey and a government plan aimed at addressing discrimination and health inequality.

Here is what Archbishop Welby actually said.

Thank you Grand Imam of @AlAzharUniv for an honest and hope-filled conversation about the role of religious leaders in our world today. And thanks to our Christian and Muslim #EmergingPeacemakers for your challenging questions and inspiring contributions. #EPForum18 pic.twitter.com/p4rG7Z2FeL

— Archbishop of Canterbury (@JustinWelby) July 17, 2018

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Could it be that Sheikh al Tayyeb has been giving Justin Welby a masterclass in taqiyyah, the Islamic practice of dissimulation, which permits Muslims to lie to infidels? Or, could it be the other way round, with the Archbishop of Canterbury giving the Grand Imam of Al-Azhar a one-to-one drill in the use of Anglican double-speak and weasel words?

There is a difference between engaging with an alien religion and prostating oneself before it.

from Republic Standard | Conservative Thought & Culture Magazine https://ift.tt/2JzV93r via IFTTT

[creationsitewebnice]

CO: Denver International Airport is Working to Become a Destination — with Ice Skating and Goat Yoga — In and of Itself

Jan. 21–On any given day at this Denver landmark, there could be goat yoga, ice skating, beer tasting, live music and fine art.

You might even meet former Broncos quarterback and Super Bowl champion Peyton Manning.

This isn’t some all-inclusive Rocky Mountain vacation or a VIP state tour. It’s Denver International Airport — and in some ways, airports the world over — in the year 2018.

Air travel is surging globally, and DIA and other airports that are spending billions of dollars to lure more flights and revenue are also embracing far-flung ideas designed to make passengers feel less like cattle and ease the stress of flying.

"Airports have changed," said Stacey Stegman, DIA’s vice president of communications, marketing and customer service. "It’s a competitive field for airports. It’s not like … we’re competing for local people to fly out of Denver. We know that we are their hometown airport. But what we are seeing is we compete for people who are connecting, we compete trying to get more flights here. If we’re offering things that are exceptional and more fun, that makes us more appealing."

In the past three or four years, airports around the world have been boosting their amenity offerings — from miniature horse therapy at Cincinnati/Northern Kentucky International Airport, to the movie theater at Portland International Airport in Oregon and nature trails and a planned indoor forest at Singapore’s Changi Airport.

DIA and other airports are busy — and getting busier

More than 60 million travelers started, continued or ended trips at DIA last year, the airport’s busiest ever. And worldwide, air passenger traffic in 2029 is expected to be double what it was three years ago, the Airports Council International says.

Add to that shrinking seat sizes aboard airplanes and more fees, and that’s where stress-reducing amenities can make a difference.

"Having things like a pet pig or a llama, those things give a humanity to the airport and to the travel experience," said Michael Taylor, who analyzes passenger satisfaction for J.D. Power. "Today there is just so many people going through airports — every airport sets a new record each month. There’s just more of a crush of people and the more you can introduce a human element and treat people like humans, that helps with the experience."

DIA and the "art of airporting"

DIA officials say these extras are also a way to lure new airlines and flight routes, create incentives for passengers to connect through Denver and even attract local residents who aren’t getting on a plane.

"Our primary focus is on passengers first," said Stegman. "We want to make sure we are meeting their needs. But if we can be great for the community as well and be a place where they want to come and spend time, that’s a good thing for Denver, and for the whole region."

DIA even has a catchphrase for this all-things-to-everyone approach: "The art of airporting."

These initiatives helped North American airports reach an all-time high in overall passenger satisfaction, according to a 2017 J.D. Power survey of more than 34,000 passengers. Denver ranked fifth among U.S. airports that have 32 million or more passenger visits a year, according to the survey, behind Orlando, Detroit, Las Vegas and Phoenix. (Newark’s Liberty International Airport was at the bottom of that list.)

Grooming another customer: The one who isn’t flying

But in Denver, air travelers aren’t the only people who’ve taken notice of the changes. According to DIA, about 20 percent or more of people who attend special events — such as beer tastings and the temporary ice skating rink — aren’t even there to fly.

Two days after New Year’s Day, DIA’s skating rink outside the Westin Hotel was booming, even at midday.

Lisa Hillman, of Denver, was there with her two sons for their second recent visit. They had no flight to catch but decided it was worth the 20-minute drive from home.

"We thought it was kind of odd at first to come ice skating at the airport," she said as her boys laced up their skates. "But I think the way they have set it up is really nice."

All of these things, of course, come at some cost: The ice rink came in at about $150,000, a limited run for goat yoga cost some $7,100 and uniforms for the Canine Airport Therapy Squad run roughly $130 a piece.

Those tabs are minuscule compared with DIA’s planned $1.5 billion gate expansion and $162 million operations and maintenance contract for the airport’s underground trains. Those are on top of a $650 million terminal building renovation that will significantly change the campus’ layout.

But airport officials say the amenities can more than pay for themselves and note that they are covered by revenues, not tax dollars. For instance, the ice rink had paid sponsorship and goat yoga, DIA officials say, had a $1 million-plus media value.

And the therapy dogs? DIA officials say you can’t put a price on relieving passenger stress.

"You’re definitely seeing a trend across the broader airport community," said Scott Elmore, vice president of communications and marketing for Airports Council International — North America.

DIA’s amenities convey a "sense of place"

Elmore’s trade industry group, of which DIA is a member, recently did a survey of airport amenities and found a sharp rise in recent years. At the top of the list were nursing rooms for new mothers and pet potty areas (Denver’s airport has both.)

"Each airport is going to be doing things that show off their unique sense of place," he said. "The one thing I can say about Denver is they do a great job of showing off what it feels like to be in the Denver area without having to leave the airport."

That includes the booming Root Down restaurant in Concourse C, plans for a Denver Central Market and even a popup business called Yoga on the Fly, where travelers can get a quick zen fix.

"We’ve been really well received," said the yoga shop’s owner, Avery Westlund.

The all-volunteer therapy dog squad might best capture Denver’s character, though, with nearly 100 canines (and one cat) it’s become the largest such airport program in the nation.

Gretchen Dirks’ young poodle Halston was a big attraction as passengers made their way through Concourse A on Jan. 3. As a wave of people stopped to say hello — "Can I touch him?" asked a Mexico City-bound man — Dirks remembered a time when the dog calmed a toddler on the brink of a meltdown.

"It’s a great way to kind of give back," Dirks said.

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Trump’s immigration comments and questions of racism (7 letters)

Allen E

10h

Calling the current occupant of the White House a racist is neither a distraction, nor an unfair assessment. He has, since a very young age, made his feelings known. The book entitled Trump Revealed did an admirable job of describing his unwillingness to allow blacks working in certain administrative functions, his unwillingness to rent to blacks, and his frequent characterizations of black as being inferior.

Democrats, GOP try to dodge blame for shuttered government

Mcs Vette

18h

Problem is… Democrats can’t evade from the fact that this was only done to protect Illegals… EVERYONE in the world knows this.. They are selling out their country for illegals is treasonous…

Democrats were wrong to go public with Trump’s language

Jason Patron

2d

Trump was wrong to use the language. The end.

Trump campaign ad calls Dems "complicit" in officers’ deaths

snarkee

5h

Trump is right, the Dems will have blood on their hands.Or should I say more blood, since they have been coddling and protecting illegals for decades.How refreshing to have a president who actually puts Americans first.

Trump’s love of tabloid gossip complicates his denial of affair allegations with Stormy Daniels

Pablo Meelar

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One look at that Uglyugly porn star proves Trump wouldn’t get within a mile of that. Get real.

Federal shutdown enters Day 2 amid blame game on both sides

Derpver

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99% of the blame belongs to Democrats, who care only about Illegal Aliens and themselves, and not American citizens.

Michael Malone wants Denver Nuggets’ offense to return to up-tempo style

Mathlete

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Get back to? Malone obviously hasn’t established his philosophy within the team’s culture. The reactionary approach and daily excuses for underachieving have gotten very old. If fans are weary of the message, just think of how weary the players must be of the message.

In spending fight, Republicans embrace Trump’s hard-line stand on immigration

jgd777

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Unbelievable! We have a political party willing to shutdown the government and punish the military and their families in order to protect a group of illegal aliens. Shameful is what that is. Watching the funding for innocent child come to an end, strictly for political reasons. If the Democrats want open borders and allow just anybody and everybody to come and mooch off American citizens, then just say so. Put that in your political platform and run on it,, but don’t try behind the lie you are just being compassion. Democrat could care less about the DACA individuals as people they see them as necessary voters in the future. PERIOD!

Denver Public Schools announces delayed start for Monday, multiple crashes on I-25

eCurmudgeon

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Alternate headline: People in Colorado Lack Proper Winter-Driving Skills.

Democrats, don’t veer left if you want to win

peterpi

1d

Says the rigid conservative.

Highlands Ranch student bites into Tide pod during school after online challenge goes viral

eCurmudgeon

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Charles Darwin was unavailable for comment.

DIA reporting more than 180 flight cancellations as a result of Sunday snow

windbourne

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For this little bit of snow? Give me a break.

120 turn out to protest Planned Parenthood clinic that organizer calls frontline of anti-abortion battle

Barry Bley

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Don’t like cannabis? Don’t use it.Don’t like abortion? Don’t have one.MYOB, busybodies.I have 4 daughters and two granddaughters of child bearing age, and it’s none of your business what the future of their pregnancies might be.

Why Electoral College trumps national popular vote plan (2 letters)

peterpi

58m

Spot on, Mr. Oyler! Intellectually dishonest describes what the National Popular Vote Interstate Compact is.The NPVRC’s proponents want to do an end run rather than work hard and persuade 2/3rds of both houses of Congress and 3/4ths of the states to approve the popular vote, .I’m in favor of the popular vote, but I understand the history of the 1787 constitutional convention, the wrangling between the small-population states and the large-population states, and the grand compromise that emerged. The debate between small states and large states continues to this day, and the small states’ concerns are valid, IMO.If I’m doing my math right, there have been 57 presidential elections since the US Constitution was ratified. Of those elections, Wikipedia says in only 4 elections (1876, 1888, 2000, and 2016) has the popular vote differed from the electoral vote. That’s less than 10%.The fact liberals don’t like Trump is no reason to play fast and loose with the rules.Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump both knew the electoral college ground rules. They both had seasoned advisors. If Trump’s campaign picked up more but smaller states and Clinton picked up fewer but larger states, and Trump won, that’s the way the game was played. Perhaps Clinton should not have considered her blue firewall to be so solid.Maybe advocates of the popular vote for president consider theirs to be a losing cause, and therefore want an end run. I’d suggest they simply fight harder in 2020.

Stronger together: More than 50,000 show solidarity against a shifting culture during Women’s March 2018

Gerald Brindamour

20h

I’m sorry, did something happen today?

___ (c)2018 The Denver Post Visit The Denver Post at www.denverpost.com Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.

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[azworkingdogs]

The Top 5 Reasons Your Dog is Aggressive

The puppy in the video below is 4 weeks…YES, 4 weeks…old! This is much too serious a behavior for such a tiny puppy!

Dog aggression seems to be of epic proportions lately!

Sometimes I wonder if it is because I am a dog trainer and the majority of dogs that I see have some kind of behavior problem.

But, as of late, I think the majority of the problems I deal with are aggression.

It used to be simple lack of appropriate behavior, like jumping or barking or pulling on a leash…

Now, it seems it is a large combination of lack of appropriate behavior AND aggression.

And, for the most part, I can usually narrow down the reason for the surge in aggression issues, so I thought I would share those with you so you can avoid some of these pitfalls with your dog or puppy (in order of the most important complications, in my opinion).

Here Are The Top 5 Reasons Your Dog Is Aggressive:

5. Lack of Socialization

Puppies need socialization!

They need to see clear, concise and happy pictures of what life will look like when they are older.

They need to see people of all color, gender, and size.

They need to have positive experiences with children.

And, we must be especially careful with them while they are in their fear imprint impact periods.

From the age of 8 weeks to 11 weeks is their first fear impact period.

Learning at this stage is PERMANENT, yes, permanent, meaning if there is a traumatic experience it can be difficult, if not impossible, to completely change.

The second fear impact period happens when the dog is from 6 months to 14 months old.

It is critical at this time to NOT reinforce bad behavior or condition the dog by cooing to him. When he is scared, saying “it’s okay, it’s okay” will often condition or teach the dog to be scared in many situations. Eventually just these words, “it’s okay”, can create fear because you are using them when the dog is in a negative emotional state.

Just like your words can create excitement or happiness: “Go for a walk” means you are taking him for a walk, “It’s okay” will teach him that something scary is about to happen! Don’t do it!

Instead, teach him through training to be confident and encourage confident behavior!

4. Inappropriate Socialization

This seems to happen so often in our society today.

People think that “socialization” means placing the puppy in a stressful environment and letting him work through it.

Want to “socialize” him with kids?  Find a pack of kids and let him go.

Want to “socialize” him with dogs?  Take him to the dog park.

The truth is that this is completely WRONG!

Heck, I don’t even really like puppy socialization classes that allow the pups to play with reckless abandon! It seems that there are always one or two puppies that run around bullying the other puppies in the class… and that is not fun.

Imagine taking your toddler to “class” and allowing him to play with bigger toddlers with sharp ice picks that they are using to poke some of the smaller, more scared, toddlers.

Because, let’s face it, these puppies chase down the smaller, more scared, puppies, corner them and then bite them… not fun!

Appropriate socialization means controlling the environment.

Find a dog that you know is great with puppies and let your puppy play with that dog.

Find ONE child at a time that you know is kind and who will quietly sit on the floor with your puppy or give treats.

I’ve shared this story before, but I feel it appropriate to share again. I had a friend who had a small Jack Russell puppy and the kids in the neighborhood wanted to play with him and hold him.

She was happy to be able to socialize him.

However, one of the kids dropped him.

He NEVER liked kids again. He was scared and defensive whenever children came around.

It is easier to say NO to a group of kids and then wait until you can control the child or children and the environment.

I’d rather hurt a few kids’ feelings than have to deal with a dog that is afraid of and hates kids for the next 15 years.

3. No Leash Manners

I know that sounds trite and like it is coming from a dog obedience trainer… and IT IS, because I know what happens if your dog is training himself.

Dogs that are in charge of their own leash training easily become reactive.

They see a dog, or person (or cat, scooter, kid) and begin pulling toward them.

The owner becomes agitated because their shoulder is getting pulled, so the owner tightens the leash.

The dog struggles more.

The human shortens the leash, yells and I have even seen owners whack their dog on top of the head…

This all becomes a negative experience and will undoubtedly bleed over to the next time the same person or object is seen.

Time and time again, the dog has a negative experience and begins to be “reactive” or defensive when they see this thing or person.

The dog and owner have conditioned each other that whatever the distraction is, it’s a bad thing!

And, because there were no leash manners to begin with, the dog’s behavior gets worse and worse until often the owner simply gives up and leaves the dog at home.

Leash manners and teaching your dog to ignore distractions and “heel” is one of the most important skills that you will ever teach him.

Click here to download your FREE copy of “The Look-A-Way” Game to help teach your dog to ignore distractions and pay attention to you.

By teaching him where to be next to your body and conditioning him to walk with a loose leash, you are preventing him from becoming reactive or aggressive in the first place.

There is no pull-and-pull-back.

There is no frustration from either source.

Instead, there is an obedient dog that knows exactly what to do and where to be.

Doesn’t that sound nice?

2. No Training

This one sounds a lot like the former example, and it is true, they are similar.

Leash manners and obedience go hand in hand.

Allowing an aggressive dog to lunge and spit and twirl on the end of the leash is the last thing you want to do!

You want to give an aggressive dog, or a potentially aggressive dog, something else to do with his mind.

When left to his own devices, he locks on to whatever is making him aggressive and he is working himself up into the red zone and the point of no return. Once he has reached this level, there is literally almost nothing you can do to change his mindset except pull him away from the situation as quickly as you can.

Instead, you need to be able to give him commands that he can adhere to, so that his mindset changes.

Instead of “I’m going to kill that other dog”.

I want to notice the subtle changes in my dog (just as he notices the other dog and before he locks on) and give him a command that he can be successful at achieving.

I want to say “heel” or “sit” or “look” or “watch”.

Thank you to fortunate K9 for the picture

I might even turn him around and get him to give me push ups.

So instead of “I’m going to kill that other dog”, the dog thinks “OHHHHH, I CAN DO THAT”.

It totally changes his emotions and allows him to do something positive.

And, it gives you a chance to change directions (if needed) and diffuse the situation!

A dog with aggression issues should have the best obedience possible, because you both need it in times of stress.

Yes, I think all dogs should go through dog obedience.

But aggressive dogs should have impeccable obedience.

These skills will also help you to feel more secure in stressful situations.

For example, I have a dog that isn’t fond of people or other dogs, but his obedience is ON POINT.

If I see either a dog or another person that may get too close, I ask him to go into heel position and give me eye contact as we pass.

Ironically, now, even if he sees the distraction first (he saw a person running with a double baby stroller once and was a little freaked out), he goes into heel position on his own and gives me focus.

You see, the focus allows him to accomplish something that calms him. He can look away from whatever is causing him stress and allow me to take over.

It is actually relaxing to him for me to be in charge and allow him to let go of situations, knowing I will confidently protect him.

This allows him to be more confident in his environment. He will never be expected to do battle alone. He has ME!

1. Genetics

Genetics are often the #1 cause of aggression.

You know that old “it’s how you raise them” spiel? It actually, really, isn’t true!

Remember that 4 week old puppy?

Genetics play a HUGE role in behavior!!!

Whereas “nurture” and socialization and training are crucial components and even more crucial at controlling aggression, genetics plays the largest role.

I know… you are angry right now.

You don’t want to believe that 4 or 6 week old aggressive puppies exist and will likely lead a life of aggression.

You want to blame the human in the video for “tormenting him while he ate”, when actually they were simply trying to depict how serious the puppy was when he stiffened and growled.

They are trying to show us how young a puppy can be and have severe aggression issues.

I mean, he isn’t likely to leave much of a mark at 4 weeks (which is why many people would ignore it) but at 6 months old, this dog will likely be dangerous if he is not worked with appropriately (which I am sure he will be since this video was to educate us and the humans recognize that this is a problem).

You want to be able to blame some human who “didn’t raise him right”.

Truthfully, in a lot of cases you can blame the breeder.

Sure, aggressive puppies can be born to mothers and fathers that are not aggressive, but most likely the aggression is passed down from mom and dad.

And, a female dog that has aggression and/or fear issues will not only pass that genetic information along to the puppies, she will teach her puppies through behavior and imprinting when they are young.

The most important thing when breeding dogs is NOT what they look like.

It isn’t the perfect top line, or the perfect shaped eyes. It isn’t tail carriage or straight hocks.

IT IS BEHAVIOR.

Friendly dogs tend to breed friendly puppies and aggressive and fearful dogs tend to breed aggressive, fearful puppies!

It is sad.

Because people are under the impression that all young puppies are a clean, empty slate that can and will become everything they want or train them to accomplish.

Those of us who compete in certain venues and sports know that this isn’t true.

We value genetics FIRST and then add the “nurture” and training foundation.

I know, I know, you are still mad.

And, you are doubting all this wordiness!

So here, check out this video of a 6 week old Border Collie herding sheep.

Now, try and tell me that this isn’t “genetics or instincts”, that this is purely training and nurture from the farmer.

I mean, it is ridiculous when you think of it in those terms.

It is clear that this dog was genetically bred and manufactured to herd sheep with precision.

Mom and dad were likely fantastic herders.

Yet, somehow, we think that 4 week old aggressive puppy had some kind of “trauma” that we can fix with just enough love.

That is simply not the case.

I will tell you that through training and the things we talked about earlier in this article, that, for the most part, you can learn to control and teach the dog to control his/her aggression.

It doesn’t even take YEARS of training. It just takes consistency, willingness, and perhaps an hour of work (several sessions broken up during the day) to see a distinct change.

But, the next time you lay judgement at the feet of the owner of an aggressive dog, who is legitimately trying to work with the dog and give it a better quality of life through obedience and determination, please remember this adorable little Border Collie puppy and remember that a lot of personality and instincts are also related to genetics.

Want To Learn How To Eradicate Nearly ALL Your Dog’s Aggressive Behaviors?

Enroll in our twice a year LIVE 8 week MASTER-CLASS on Emotional Re-calibration Training (ERT) specifically for Over-reactive, Fearful and Aggressive dogs.

Click here to enroll in the MASTER-CLASS

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from TheDogTrainingSecret.com http://ift.tt/2whQhtS via IFTTT

[ronaldmrashid]

Why I Sold My Rental Home: Had To Live For Today

After hearing direct feedback from about 80 of you through social media, my private newsletter, various post comments, and a poll with over 1,500 votes, I decided to sell my Marina, San Francisco rental house I bought in early 2005. I lived in the house from age 28 -37 and had some wonderful memories there. But after three years of being a landlord, it was time to move on.

The decision was incredibly agonizing because I believe it’s best to hold onto a property forever. When I finally sold the house, I didn’t feel joy, but disappointment. I sat in the lounge area of a bank branch looking at the largest check I’ve ever seen in my life and feeling like I had failed my son, myself, and all of you. I’m long-term bullish on San Francisco property, but I felt I had to start living for today.

20 years from now when my son asks how I could have sold the house for so cheap, I’ll point him to this post as I’ll have long forgotten all the details by then. Hope you can forgive me dear boy.

Why I Decided To Sell My Rental Home

77% of you said sell

Back when I was 27, I decided I no longer wanted to live in a two bedroom condo even though it was perfectly fine. Unfortunately, average single family homes in the northern part of San Francisco cost about $1.8M or more back in 2004. But one rainy December afternoon, while I was parking to look at a $1.2M three bedroom condo for sale, I stumbled across a handsome single family home that nobody seemed to want.

The listing agent was from out of town and all she had was a messy home and a flimsy one page black and white flier. To contrast, most homes in this price range have multi-page colored brochures. The house had been sitting on the market for two months and she told me if she didn’t get an offer by Christmas, she was taking the house off the market and re-listing it in the Spring.

Knowing that selling during the holidays is a sign of desperation, I sat down with her to learn more about the seller’s story. The seller was a newly retired couple that hailed from Texas. They had wanted to relocate to San Francisco, but after a knee operation, the wife decided she didn’t want to live in a house with two flights of stairs. As a result, they never moved in and kept renting back the house to the previous sellers. Then I came along.

The listing price was a “more reasonable” $1.55M. It truly was since other homes of similar or smaller size sold for $250,000+ more. Besides not being marketed properly and the incessant winter rain, the main reason why the house wasn’t selling was due to its location on a busy street next to one of the busiest streets in all of San Francisco. We had our concerns too, so we parked outside the house multiple times for 30 minutes each session to see if we could stand the road noise.

The overall market in SF was still strong for properties under $1.5M in 2004. But I discovered that as soon as I crossed the $1.5M threshold, demand fell precipitously. Here was an open market opportunity to buy a single family home below asking, instead of constantly get outbid. I decided that with the installation of double pane windows, the road noise would be bearable. I proceeded to make an offer $25,000 below asking in December 2004.

When they accepted, I felt instant dread. Should I have offered $1.45M instead? But deep down, I felt the house could easily be worth $2M within 10 years, so I went ahead and dumped my life savings into the house and got a two month bridge loan from my grandfather for part of the 20% down payment. My year end bonus got paid out every February.

After purchase, the house continued to appreciate for two and a half years, but the financial crisis came and knocked its value right back down to where I had purchased it, if not $100,000 less. With a $1.2M mortgage, I wasn’t feeling that good about my financial future anymore.

A Recovery And Another Chance

After almost losing my shirt during the financial crisis, the market finally stabilized and miraculously, after more than seven lay off rounds, I still had my job. I remember telling myself that if the housing market ever rebounded where I could eek out a profit, I would sell and never take on such massive debt again.

So in 2012 right when Facebook went public, I decided to list the house, thinking surely someone would be interested in buying a 3 bedroom, 2.5 bathroom home with an unwarranted room and bathroom on the ground floor. The listing time also coincided with me leaving Corporate America and losing a healthy salary. The mortgage was still about $1,000,000 and I worried whether I had made the right move to leave a job so young. During a time of transition, having more liquidity seemed prudent.

After one month of no interest, I decided to do something cheeky and raise the asking price from $1,695,000 to $1,780,000 and then to $1,789,000 (see picture). My ego was bruised and I wanted to show strength. But after another 28 days with no interest, I decided to remove the listing. Destiny wasn’t cooperating with my plans to sell, so I didn’t force the issue. Instead, I refinanced my mortgage to save ~$400+/month and focused on traveling around the world and growing Financial Samurai.

Nobody wanted to buy my house in 2012, thank goodness.

The Transition To Something New

In 2014, we bought a fixer on the western side of SF because we wanted to experience a new adventure in a different part of town. We were *this* close to relocating to Honolulu, but decided if we could bring Honolulu to San Francisco in the form of a house with ocean views, we’d stay for several more years.

Finished building a deck in my new house in 2016

Instead of trying to sell the Marina house again, this time we decided to rent it. To our surprise, we found tenants willing to pay $8,500 a month in rent, so we accepted. The four guys and a dog ended up being a PITA to manage, but $8,500 was way higher than we thought we’d get so the aggravation seemed worth it.

This initial set of tenants only stayed for one year. My next set of tenants were five guys who were willing to pay $8,800. They were the best candidates I could find at the time, largely because families with small children were worried about being so close to a busy street. Either that, or they simply bought. I accepted a $17,000 rental deposit and prayed everything would be OK. For the most part, everything was OK. But there was constant roommate turnover, late rent payments, and maintenance issues (leaky roof, broken kitchen faucet, broken fridge, holes in walls, cracked tiles, damaged kitchen doors, noise complaints, and lawn neglect) that finally made me cry uncle.

Related: Being A Landlord Tests My Faith In Humanity

In addition to dealing with all these issues, I was also busy project managing my new home remodel. Remodeling an entire home is already stressful. Add on rowdy tenants and life begins to become unbearable, even if you don’t have a job to go to. Thank goodness we have been able to resolve these stresses and focus on the birth and care of our new son. As prospective parents, we didn’t know what to expect, but we did know from lots of feedback that raising a baby is way harder than what people say (so true). We wanted to free up as much time as possible to prepare for this new chapter in our lives.

Renting out the Marina house for three years wasn’t a great experience, but at least I gave it a go. The ~$60,000 in net rental income enabled me to finally achieve my long term passive income target of $200,000 a year. But like Anthony Scaramucci, who was fired just 10 days after being named White House communications director, my $200,000 a year in passive income didn’t last very long.

I held onto the Marina house in 2014 because it was tough to let something go after so many good memories. I also didn’t want to be embarrassed again. Besides, I was bullish on SF real estate. Financially, I had a $400,000, 7-year CD come due that provided for the downpayment of my new home. Further, my online business continued to grow.

But after vacating it for almost three years, I no longer had a strong attachment to the Marina house because by then we had made amazing new memories in our new house in Golden Gate Heights. When you remodel every inch of the house, you naturally get more attached to it. I also remember the first night we brought our son home at midnight. It was a magical moment.

Property Prices Rise

SF median home price rises above $1.4M in 2017, way above the 2006-2007 peak

From a financial point of view, we got very lucky. Because nobody wanted to buy our house in 2012 we’ve been able to double benefit with leverage from a ~20% appreciation in the Marina rental house and a ~35% appreciation in my primary residence.

It’s funny to see how quickly sentiment can change. Most people generally have to sell to buy another house in SF, but I took some risks and leveraged to the hilt. For some time, as the bull market kept on going, I felt stymied by an earlier decision to lock up $300,000+ in a 4.1% yielding 7-year CD . But as it turned out, it was the expiration of the CD and the availability of that money that enabled me to buy my new home.

Further, I had thought there would be a two or three year slowdown in property prices starting in early 4Q2015 when many private companies had their valuations slashed. While the market did slow down for a couple quarters, by the Spring of 2017 it had recovered and was as hot as ever for single family homes. The condo market, on the other hand, is definitely cooling due to a surge in new supply.

By early 2017, after the 8th time my tenants were late paying rent, I started thinking maybe I could get $2.3M or $2.4M for the house (from $1.7M in 2013). And if I could, I would sell. I was texting back and forth with my neighbor to give him the first look, and he said he’d be interested in buying my home via a private transaction for $2.1M. I passed, even though it would have been nice to save on all those fees. I remember feeling vindicated, however, that finally, my home was worth what I thought it could be worth all these years later.

May 2017 offer from my ~35 yo neighbor who has been living for free in his parent’s building since graduation

Then, unexpectedly my tenants gave me an opportunity to test the market by informing me of their intention to vacate on May 8, 2017. I set up a race like I did in 2016 when my condo tenants vacated. In one lane was me in charge of finding suitable tenants within 30 days. In the other lane was a realtor in charge of finding a buyer off market within the same time period for $2,500,000. I decided on $2,500,000 as a stretch price because I was reluctant to sell. Whoever found the client first would win!

Unlike in 2016 with my Pac Heights rental condo, I lost. I couldn’t find my ideal tenant, someone who would take care of my property and stay for at least a couple years. One single mother of four children offered $7,500, but I passed because she was a highly unprofitable startup founder. Another family of 6 offered $7,800 and I passed due to too much wear and tear and such a weak offer. It is much harder to find a $9,000/month renter versus a $4,200/month renter.

Meanwhile my realtor was able to identify a buyer who had lost in a bidding war for a comparable property in my neighborhood. One thing led to another and I received an offer for $2,600,000 just nine days later! It’s worth noting that I had already been looking for tenants for 30 days already before the race began given I received a 30-day move out notification.

Analyzing The Offer

I was astounded by the $2,600,000 offer because another highly experienced realtor had told me that if I put in $50,000 worth of work painting the house, updating the light fixtures, changing the master bathroom tub, and replacing the kitchen floor I *might* be able to get $2,500,000 or so. She was a top producer with 30 years of experienced and visited my house twice to come up with her assessment.

Another realtor I interviewed said that if I put $30,000 into staging, painting and modernizing the light fixtures, I’d probably get around $2,300,000. I was not impressed. But I understand it’s important to manage expectations and surprise on the upside.

I went with my realtor because in 2016 she had sold a neighboring home in Golden Gate Heights for a massive premium. I was impressed with her professionalism when I corresponded with her and most importantly, with her results. The aforementioned house was a dump, had to go through probate, yet finally sold for $150,000 more than I thought (10% over).

My realtor firmly believed I could get $2,500,000 without having to do any further work since I had already painted a couple rooms and refinished the floors. My house is 2,070 sqft plus about 230 sqft of unwarranted space. If you slap on the average price/sqft of $1,171 in the Marina, you get $2,423,970. But my house should trade at a discount due to the location.

The average price/sqft in the Marina neighborhood is $1,171

Even with a surprising offer of $2,600,00, because of commissions, I wasn’t completely convinced I should sell. I was able to negotiate the total selling commission down to 4.5% from 6%, but that was it. In this day and age of the internet, a 4.5% commission is still egregious. That said, the previous realtor who I used in 2012 for a 5.5% fee hadn’t found me a buyer for $1.7M after 28 days. So at least my latest realtor had something for me to consider.

The Counter Offer

We had several other realtors come with their buyers, but nobody made us an offer. The road noise and traffic were always the main deterrents.  For some reason, these buyers didn’t mind the noise and were charmed  the aesthetics of the home.

Given I didn’t need to sell, I decided to counter at $2,788,000 to cover my commissions, transfer tax and then some. Why not try and test the upper limits without losing the buyer? After several days of hemming and hawing, they came up to $2,700,000, saying this was the best they could do because their purchase depended on bank underwriting.

I was tempted to accept because now I was $200,000 – $300,000 higher than what I hoped to get. But, my realtor kept encouraging me to reconsider the price because she knew I was on the fence.

I countered $2,750,000 firm with a lovely letter about how much they would enjoy living in a single family home with a toddler, instead of in a condo. I wrote about all the upgrades we had done over the past 13 years to make the home perfect. I gave them an Excel spreadsheet of all the things we did and the cost of each item to make them feel like they were getting a good deal. I also showed them pictures of all our work.

After another several days past my acceptance deadline, they acquiesced! $2,750,000 is a significant number because it is a full $1,050,000 more than what I would have sold it for just five years earlier. Being able to earn $210,000 a year in equity while also collecting $100,000+ a year in gross rental income the last three years blew my mind.

It felt like I may have won the lottery!

I write “may have” because the buyer wasn’t the commonly cited cash buyer all sellers hope for. Instead, the buyer had to not only take out a $2,000,000 loan, he had to take out another $300,000 loan at a much higher interest rate because he only had about $400K in downpayment.

Three years earlier, he had bought a $1.5 million condo in the same neighborhood before he had a son. Based on his finances, the max the bank would allow him to buy was $2.6M. The sellers admitted they had been hunting for properties in the $2.3M – $2.5M range when they heard about my house.

Dining/living room of rental home

Things Started Getting Dicey

When the deadline to remove the financing contingency arrived two weeks after accepting my counter, nothing happened. His bank was making him jump through more hoops so he wanted to keep his financing contingency because if he removed the contingency, and the loan didn’t go through, he’d be out $82,500 (3% earnest money downpayment).

With no other rental offers, I decided to extend the deadline several more days after already extending the inspection contingency deadline by four days. But after five days of not getting any sort of update, I began to worry. Worry turned into frustration, so I decided to aggressively look for more renters again! Each day the deal didn’t go through was another day of lost rental income in my mind.

I kept on telling myself that I would regret selling the home 20 years from now due to the robust job engine here in the SF Bay Area. So after a 15 day respite, I marketed my property hard again to find a group of tenants. After a week, I found a group of five guys (girls don’t exist in San Francisco) who ironically all worked at my old employer! It was destiny!

They all made about $80,000 – $95,000 base salary each as first or second year financial analysts. I thought it would be hilarious to write in a future post that even after getting paid for five years after I left thanks to my negotiated severance, I would still get paid by my old employer for at least another year! It would feel absolutely fantastic, so I decided to go with them.

There was only one problem. Instead of offering the $9,000/month that I wanted, they offered $8,300. I countered with $8,500 and told them they could start one month later on July 1, instead of on June 1. They were originally asking to move in on July 16, but I felt that leaving my property empty for that long while also having an outstanding offer to buy was too much.

They finally agreed on the terms, but they bailed the Saturday morning we planned to meet up! They told me they found another property and thanked me for my time. In other words, the true market rental price for my house was not $8,500, but closer to $8,000 a month or maybe even less given two parties offered even less.

Now it was time to panic again because I had sent a document to my buyer to reject the offer and release him of his $82,500 earnest money deposit. Now I had NOTHING. Using my Buy Utility, Rent Luxury framework, someone was offering me 28.5X – 30X my gross annual rent compared to the 20.5X average for the SF Bay Area and I rejected him! What was I thinking?!

But thankfully, the buyer didn’t know everything that was going on, on my end. After I sent the recision document, they told me they were working as hard as they could with the bank to get the loan finalized, and that they still really wanted to buy my house. They said that by Monday or Tuesday, they should be able to remove the contingency and for me to please wait several more days.

Given I had nothing, and nothing could be done during the weekend, I told my realtor to tell the other realtor that I was OK to wait, but no promises. I wanted to them to feel a tremendous sense of urgency to get their loan done since they were already a couple weeks past the deadline. Meanwhile, I was mentally preparing to just keep my house empty for the next 22 years because I was so sick and tired of dealing with renters.

That’s right, I was willing to pay $22,000 a year in property tax, $2,000 a year in home insurance, $5,000 a year in random maintenance costs totaling over $600,000 after 22 years just to hold onto this asset nobody seemed to want to buy or rent. My pride was speaking again.

All signs pointed towards the deal not happening.

Nail Biter Until The Very End

I was stressed, annoyed, and anxious during this 45 day process. Remember, I was getting very little sleep taking care of a newborn who would wake up very 30 minutes to 2 hours. I was running on adrenaline. Then I was running on fumes. Then the fumes ran out so I decided to settle on leaving the house empty forever.

When the buyers were finally ready to remove the financing contingency, I had to make a decision to tell them to go ahead with writing a new offer or telling them I had moved on. By this time, I was too tired to negotiate any longer because they were also holding me to about $35,000 in immediate weather proofing work that needed to be done after the inspector found leaky windows and dry rot. I had disclosed to them one of the light wells leaked through the dining room during the recent winter storms. They were rightfully concerned, and so was I since all I did was get up on the roof and spray the crap out of the roof with FlexSeal.

In the very end, we agreed to a price of $2,740,000. I gave them a $10,000 discount to address the inspection report so they would finally remove the financing contingency and get on with it. The final price/sqft came out to be $1,323, a 13% premium to the average price/sqft in the most expensive part of the town.

I’m happy for the buyers because their loans went through and they’ve now got a great home to raise their son for the next 10+ years. I just hope his new business venture goes well and the economy continues to chug along.

$810,926 of debt was paid off in June

This piece of real estate served us well, and now we no longer have a use for it because we have a new home and more powerful streams of semi-passive income.

In 20 years, I’ll have wished I held onto the property. But I just have to remind myself about all the time and stress I will save by not owning. The older you get, the more valuable time becomes because you have less of it. Besides, I’m just thankful nobody bought the house for $1,050,000 less in 2012.

Dear son, if you got through this beast of post, well done. The bottom line for selling is that I wanted to simplify my life so I could spend as much time with you as possible.

Related:

Every Factor To Consider Before Selling An Investment Property

Debt Optimization Framework For Financial Freedom

Anybody sell their property recently? If so, how did you come to the decision? If you have a harrowing property selling experience, I’d love to hear it! When do you think the real estate market will finally go down?

The post Why I Sold My Rental Home: Had To Live For Today appeared first on Financial Samurai.

from https://www.financialsamurai.com/why-i-sold-my-rental-home/

[robertmcangusgroup]

The Daily Thistle

The Daily Thistle – News From Scotland

Wednesday 9th August 2017

"Madainn Mhath” …Fellow Scot, I hope the day brings joy to you…. Our opening story regarding the Glorious Twelfth, reminds me of my summer holidays spent with my Uncle George, who was a Gamekeeper located in Gloucestershire which is a county in South West England.  Summers would be spent walking the fields, feeding the Pheasants and Guinea Fowl  which George raised on the Bidolph Estate in Rodmartin. George was following in his Father Tom Holman’s footsteps as he had followed his Father. Tom was the Head Keeper at the Currie Estate at Minley Manor, in the Cove-Yateley area of Northern Hampshire… My Uncle George taught me to ride a motorcycle, drive a Land rover, and shoot a shotgun.. he also taught me to understand nature and see what was about me.. I recall clearly him telling me, “To watch what changes and ask yourself Why?” .. those many years ago, long gone except for that in my memory, the smell of the corn, the rain falling, the barking of the dogs as the day started…… I recall them all…

GAMEKEEPERS TAKE PART IN GROUSE SEASON MARCH IN EDZELL…. Gamekeepers and their families will be among those taking part in a march later to celebrate the upcoming grouse season. Politicians and local traders who benefit from the grouse season are also expected at the event along the high street of Edzell in Angus. The grouse season starts on 12 August - known as the Glorious Twelfth. But animal rights campaigners have condemned the annual event as a "ridiculous tradition". The community march, which will go through Edzel's Dalhousie Arch, has been organised by Scotland's regional moorland groups. It acknowledges the work and community life in seven moorland regions, from the Lammermuir hills in southern Scotland to Loch Ness-side in the Highlands.

QUEEN MAKES SURPRISE VISIT TO ABOYNE HIGHLAND GAMES…. The Queen has made a surprise visit to the Aboyne Highland Games in Aberdeenshire. She officially opened the games, which is marking its 150th anniversary. And she was photographed pouring whisky from a quaich to anoint the new Aboyne Games caber, and meeting competitors. The monarch is thought to be in residence at nearby Balmoral, the Royal Family's Scottish holiday home.

BIBLE RETURNED TO FAMILY AFTER 151 YEARS…. A 151-year-old Bible has been returned to the Scottish descendants of its original owner after making a 3,500 mile journey from the US. The book was returned after American owner Marshall Whitehead decided to track down the family of the original owner. It was eventually handed to Donald Mackechnie, 66, at his home in Glasgow. The Bible had originally belonged to the great-grandfather of Mr Mackechnie's grandmother. Mr Whitehead, who was gifted the pocket-sized book in 2001 by an amateur Bible collector from Cleveland, Ohio, had rediscovered it when moving home in May. Noting that the Bible bore the name Alexander MacDonald of Inverness with the date 1 January, 1866, he decided to track down the descendants of Mr MacDonald, who was born in 1825 and worked as a ship master, wine merchant and grocer. After contacting Highland Council, he was put in touch with Anne Fraser, a historian at the Highland Archive Centre who created a MacDonald family tree. Mr Whitehead then used social media to track down Mr Mackechnie's daughter Mairi in Glasgow, who alerted her Islay-raised father. The Bible, which had a four-leaf clover tucked within its pages, was hand-delivered to Mr Mackechnie by Alistair Begg, a pastor at Mr Whitehead's church in Ohio who is originally from Glasgow and was visiting relatives in the city last month. 'Shock and surprise' Mr Mackechnie, clerk to the board at St Columba Gaelic Church of Scotland in Glasgow, said: "There was a knock on the door one day and this chap was standing there. "I almost fell on the floor when he explained what he was giving me. I could not believe it, it was such a shock and a surprise. "The whole family are delighted and over the moon to receive his previously unheard of family heirloom. "It does not even enter your head that this kind of thing could ever happen - it is quite amazing."

CITY LEADER CALLS FOR EDINBURGH FESTIVALS TO START IN JULY…. There should be a radical shake-up of Edinburgh's festivals to make them more family-friendly, it has been claimed. The city's culture chief is leading calls for the Edinburgh International Festival and the Fringe to be held earlier in the summer. Speaking to The Scotsman, Donald Wilson suggested the festivals should fully coincide with Scottish school holidays. But organisers of the Fringe said moving the dates could prevent children attending with their schools. Mr Wilson also called for shows and performances to be held in venues beyond the city centre. The move could broaden and deepen the festivals' appeal among city residents, the City of Edinburgh Council's culture convenor added.

SCOTTISH LANDOWNERS RESIST INHERITANCE REFORM….  Plans by the Scottish government to change the law on succession could result in some of Scotland’s largest estates splitting up so they are no longer viable as businesses, landowners say, resulting in the “smashing up of property over the generations”. At present, Scottish law allows close relatives inheritance rights only to “moveable” assets such as cash and shares, but not to “immoveables” – that is, land and buildings. This gives landowners the final decision over who will inherit their estates, stately homes and farms. This, they say, allows for continuity of the management of family-run enterprises and keeps the estates unified over time. The Scottish government is proposing to end the distinction between moveable and immoveable property to “ensure a just distribution of assets among a deceased’s close family to reflect both societal change and expectations”. But critics say this would result in the gradual disintegration of private property into smaller units, ultimately making them commercially unworkable. Scotland’s estates, they add, do not just earn income from shooting, fishing and holiday homes, but also look after and farm the land as well as provide housing and employment to local people, often in remote areas where alternatives are not available.

EROSION RISK TO A FIFTH OF SCOTS COASTLINE, SCIENTISTS SAY…. Almost a fifth of Scotland's coastline is at risk of erosion, threatening property and infrastructure worth £400m, scientists say. A group of experts studied coastlines dating back to the 1890s to make predictions for the next 30 years. The Dynamic Coast project used information drawn from more than 2,000 maps and a million data points. Environment Secretary Roseanna Cunningham said the erosion rates "will probably get worse, and faster". Research was carried out by experts from the Scottish government, Scottish Natural Heritage and the University of Glasgow. The erosion rate has doubled since the 1970s, with the extent of it increasing by 39%. Principle researcher Prof Jim Hansom said this was "what we'd expect with climate change", adding: "We are seeing a net loss of our coastline. The clock is ticking and we need to start adapting to avoid unnecessary costs."

On that note I will say that I hope you have enjoyed the news from Scotland today,

Our look at Scotland today is of a Game Keeper and his dog…..

A Sincere Thank You for your company and Thank You for your likes and comments I love them and always try to reply, so please keep them coming, it's always good fun, As is my custom, I will go and get myself another mug of "Colombian" Coffee and wish you a safe Wednesday 9th August 2017 from my home on the southern coast of Spain, where the blue waters of the Alboran Sea washes the coast of Africa and Europe and the smell of the night blooming Jasmine and Honeysuckle fills the air…and a crazy old guy and his dog Bella go out for a walk at 4:00 am…on the streets of Estepona…

All good stuff....But remember it’s a dangerous world we live in

Be safe out there…

Robert McAngus