#tumblr gets the privilege of having the arm be on the correct side

[pintura]

Lavellan

[margeraswrld]

hi hi! could i request a fluffy fic/hcs (you can choose!) with Ryan Dunn where he gets hurt during a stunt and the reader looks after him afterward? You can use she/her pronouns, or keep it gender neutral :)

lovesick, ryan dunn!

a/n - i absolutely love ry so much, and ever since my entire headcannon post for him was deleted ( f u tumblr ) i’ve been wanting to write something else for him, so this is just perfect!

warnings - contains fluff, blood/injury, slight bit of angst but not much, slight drinking, slight suggestive content, usual jackass shit but nothing harsh.

plot - fem! reader taking care of ryan after he’s injured from a stunt.

it’s extremely rare for you to ever get the privilege of enjoying peaceful night - a night with no injuries needing tending to, no shitfaced guys looking for a spot on your couch ( which you never can seem to reject ), no chaotic stunts taking place in your very own backyard. a quiet night is honestly, practically unheard of for you thanks your daredevil boyfriend and your guys’ equally-chaotic friends, who literally make their living off of being dumb. yet, despite all the hassle, you love them all dearly and wouldn’t trade a single one of them for the world. but, boy, do they know how to stress a girl out, both on set and off.

so, when you’re finally able to have what looks to be a calm night in, you’re beyond thrilled. you’ve already picked out a cheesy rom-com, changed into a spaghetti strap along with your comfiest shorts, made yourself a bowl of popcorn, and settled into your couch to watch the movie and wait on ryan to return from filming something small with bam.

you’re almost halfway through the movie, deeply invested and almost to the bottom of your popcorn bowl, whenever your front door swings open without warning. you yelp loudly, the remaining popcorn splattering to the floor as your head whips around.

bam enters without a word, tossing a pair of house keys onto the small table beside your door, shortly followed by ryan who clutches his left arm tightly, blood visibly spilling through the thin fabric of his white tee-shirt. “my keys go over there, dickhead.” ryan corrects bam’s mindless mistake with a strained voice, to which the brunette boy only shrugs in response.

“ry, oh my god, are you okay?!” you shoot up from the leather couch, taking off across the room to your boyfriend’s side. sure, you’re used to ryan showing up injured, but that doesn’t mean you don’t worry just the same each and every time.

“yeah, yeah, i’m fine!” he chuckles dryly, but you can immediately tell that he’s lying. hell, anyone could with the pain seeping through his tone, not to mention the blood steadily dripping further down his arm. “it looks worse than it is, really.”

“bam, why the hell didn’t you try to stop the bleeding?” you curse as you rush toward the kitchen, grabbing a handful of paper towels before turning back toward the living room. luckily, the blood isn’t pouring like it looks to have been before he arrived, but you know that you still need to put pressure on whatever sort of wound he has.

“we were in a parking lot!” bam defends himself with a dramatic gesture of his arms, already used to your worried rambling in situations like these.

you don’t respond, silently accepting his reasoning as you carefully press the towels over the place ryan’s hand once covered, causing him to wince slightly. “come on,” you gently speak as you guide him toward your bathroom, sucking your lip in between your teeth by nervous habit.

you’ve seen worse with some of the guys, mainly steve-o, but you simply can’t help but panic everytime - especially when it comes to ryan. you have no problem fixing them up and even driving them to a hospital if needed - but, for their sake, you just really wish they had a bit more regard for their personal safety, a totally useless wish.

“i’m okay, babe, really.” ryan tries to convince you once again as you motion for him to take a seat on your counter, grabbing a soft towel from your shelf along with the small box filled with things you’ve designated to times like these. “i just need a bandaid.”

you can’t help but crack a smile at the blonde boy’s weak attempt at humor as you run the towel under your faucet, dousing it in slightly-warm water. “just a bandaid, huh?”

“well, also maybe a kiss to make it better?” he suggests while puckering his chapped lips playfully, laughing through the pain as you shake your head fondly. really, he’s hardly even focused on his pain anymore, it having faded to nothing but an afterthought the second he saw you smile. all he’s focused on right now is you, how you make him feel so okay even when he’s clearly not.

“not just yet, tough guy.” you deny with a teasing smile, pulling up the sleeve of his white tee-shirt to examine the gash on his upper arm, almost at his shoulder. it definitely hurts like hell, but luckily it doesn’t look to be deep enough to require stitching.

your determined eyes strain in concentration as you use the warm towel to carefully dab away at the angry, crimson liquid covering his wound, “how’d this happen, anyway? i thought you guys were just doing stuff with the shopping carts tonight.”

“yeah, we did.” the curly-haired boy confirms, hissing lightly as you wipe away the final remnants of blood, directly on his injury. “something sharp was in the fucking bush, scraped me as i landed. i’m pretty sure it was glass.”

you shake your head softly and bite your lip once more, an annoying nervous habit of yours. “ry, i really love your job. i think everything you do for jackass is so cool, and there’s nothing else i’d rather you do.” you begin, your trained eyes not leaving his wound as you suck in a sharp breath, “i just wish there was a way you could be a bit more careful. like, check shit before you decide to jump in it, you know? i’m not trying to tell you what to do, i just don’t like seeing you hurt.”

you finish with a small shake of your head and pull away to toss the stained towel into the sink behind ryan, his non-bloodied hand coming up to cup your cheek, stopping you in your tracks as your guilty eyes meet his own. “i’m okay, sweetheart, i promise. don’t get me wrong, it hurts like a bitch, but i’d do it a hundred times over if it meant you could be the one to fix it.” his calloused thumb softly rubs your cheek, a comforting smile stretching his lips. “i’m sorry i make you worry so much, and im sorry you’re always stuck taking care of me,”

you cut him off before he can say another word, “ry, stop. don’t you apologize for anything at all. it’s my job to worry about you and to patch you up when you’re hurt, and i wouldn’t trade any part of it for the world, okay?”

for a moment the two of you just sit there in a comfortable silence, a smile gracing ryan’s cracked lips as he strokes your cheek softly. “god, i love you.” he voices his thoughts, his eyes gleaming with pure love and adoration as he gazes downward at you like a lovesick puppy.

“i love you too.” you offer him a genuine smile as you lean further into his touch, never wanting to leave this moment.

his other hand moves to grasp your waist and pull you gently toward him, connecting his formerly-split lips with your glossed ones. his hand never leaves your cheek, caressing it softly as your lips move blissfully against his own. a soft groan-like noise bubbles from his throat as you deepen the kiss slightly, causing a light smirk to appear on your own lips.

the two of you are completely lost in each other - off in your own, little love-filled world, all of the worries at hand simply melting away with each touch.

then bam’s voice protrudes loudly and unapologetically through the door, quickly snapping the two of you from your lovesick trance, “y/n, is dunn okay?”

ryan hangs his head low and sighs loudly at his best friend’s horrible timing as you hesitantly pull away from him, your mind focusing back on the situation at hand. “yes, bam, your boyfriend’s fine, don’t worry.” you answer with a teasing smile tugging at your lips as you grab a small tube of ointment from the box beside ryan. “we’re almost done.”

“ugh, shut up.” bam grumbles, and you can almost hear him rolling his eyes as he departs from the door.

you finish patching ryan up pretty quickly after that, applying the soothing ointment and wrapping a gauze around his upper arm as a bandage. “you have to change your shirt, there’s blood all over it.” you tell him as he helps you finish tidying up your bathroom, despite your multiple protests for him to go sit down.

he glances down at his bloodied shirt for a brief moment before shrugging nonchalantly, “it’s not that bad.”

you nudge him playfully, shaking your head with disapproval as you put away the final box, “you have to take it off, it’s all bloody and dirty.”

“i think,” ryan begins, stepping closer to you and snaking his arms around your slightly-exposed waist in order to pull you closer to him, “you just want me to be shirtless.”

he makes a teasing face that causes you to giggle proudly at his childish taunting, moving your own arms to latch around his neck. “hmm, maybe, maybe not.” you lean your face closer to his own, your lips hovering only a couple inches away from his “guess we’ll never know.”

and with that, you untangle yourself from him completely and exit the bathroom, a proud smirk on your lips as you take off down the hall. when you enter the living room, you find bam lounged across the couch where you once sat, having helped himself to a beer from your fridge as he finishes out the movie you were watching.

once he takes notice of your presence, he sighs dramatically and makes yet another over-exaggerated gesture with his arms, “finally, jesus! what’d you guys do, fuck in there or something?”

“she fixed me up real good.” ryan answers for you, coming into view at your side as he winks toward the boy on the couch. he moves to take a seat alongside bam, but you’re quick to stop him with a sudden snap of your fingers.

“hey! go change first, i don’t want blood on my couch.” you demand, motioning for him to go find one of his shirts upstairs. he huffs a way too dramatic sigh, but he does as you say, nonetheless.

you make your own way over to the couch, shoving bam’s legs to the floor as you take a seat, questioning him on what you’d missed in the movie - to which he responds with, “the guy finally kissed the chick, and now i think they’re gonna fuck or some shit. i dunno.”

by the time ryan is back to take his seat in between you and bam, the movie has ended and you allow him to pick a new one. bam takes it upon himself to stay as well, not that you mind, though, because his shitty commentary always makes any move ten times more enjoyable.

you end up falling asleep around halfway through, leaned up against your boyfriend with a beer dangling from your fingers.

you wake up safe in your bed, tucked under the covers with ryan sound asleep behind you, his arm draped over your waist. you could never ask for anything more.

a/n - i’m so sorry this took a while, something came up in the middle of writing and i couldn’t get it up as soon as i wanted to. i really enjoyed writing this, and i’m actually kinda proud of it. i may have gotten a bit too carried away and made it a bit too long, but i hope you like it! feel free to request again anytime <3

[vaveyard]

Why are your author pics photoshopped? You look so different in person or even on tiktok. Your tumblr avatar looks nothing like the real life you. Is attractiveness so important for publishing?

Thanks for the reminder, my Tumblr avatar is my old headshot taken about 8 years ago. I actually think I'm much better looking now than I was in 2014 so that's cool.

As for "photoshop", my skin is airbrushed and color-corrected but otherwise the photos are the product of professional makeup, good lighting, and professional photographers. So thanks for the compliment I guess? I clean up well when professionals are involved!

I don't know if my appearance has benefitted me personally in publishing. That's hard to gauge, either negatively or positively. I say that because I have an issue with self esteem and seeing myself clearly.

I would argue there are certainly people who do benefit from being classically thin and attractive, based on what I see and what I hear from friends in publishing. I definitely think there's rampant fatphobia, maybe not in publishing itself but in the PR side of things. Classically attractive authors are definitely more likely to get photo spreads and TV coverage, or at least it seems that way. I definitely get down on myself sometimes because it should be the work that matters, and it's frustrating to realize other things matter too. Especially when it's something out of my control, like my face or my size. But that's also what happens when so much emphasis goes into social media! Appearance can be a commodity as much as our writing on content platforms like IG and TT.

A side effect of my writing career that I never predicted: I've gotten very good at doing my own hair and makeup. Largely because I feel vulnerable without it, especially at events where photos will be taken. Seeing myself tagged in an ugly photo can very easily make me spiral. And because there's sort of an arms race of appearance among authors, that we're all victim to.

Sorry for the long answer. "Pretty privilege" (as I call it) has been something I've thought about my entire life, especially now as it pertains to publishing and the author community.

[bukojuiice]

get you.

ೃ pairing: (husband! executive levi ackerman x wifey! reader)

ೃ  warnings: nsfw (18+) - the rest of the tags are below the cut! c:

ೃ genre: smut

ೃ word count: 2,696 words

ೃ  my nav  →  my college au! eren x fem! reader (fluff)

ೃ song inspo: get you by daniel caesar ft. kali uchis

ೃ  please do reblog if you enjoyed!! it really helps writers and content creators on tumblr! (feel free to add tags too because i love reading them and my heart swells with happiness when people love my work!)

ೃ “visit your husband at work” day is an actual event that happens every 3rd Thursday of the month at the company Levi works in. however, after he’s become too focused on the workload for the day and you’ve grown impatient as he wasn’t paying attention to you at all, you had to find a way to grab his attention. 

additional tags: fem dom! reader, slight bondage, sub! levi then a dramatic shift to dom! levi 

hope you enjoy reading!

Today is the 3rd Thursday of the month.

Which meant “Visit your Husband at Work” Day.

No. Like, it was literally an actual holiday that existed in the company.

One of Levi’s fellow executives, Hange Zoe, created a whole-ass holiday just so to tease you and Levi.

Not that it was a problem though, it was always so fun to watch your husband work so sternly and seriously. Even if he ignored you most of the time, especially when you were being annoying and were asking too many questions.

This month’s iteration of the holiday though… left much to be desired.

Your ever so busy husband promised you a lunch date at one of the swankiest restaurants in the business district, however he was so swarmed with papers, business plans, and taking calls from important clients that could he not take 1 hour out of his day just to spend time with you and keep the spirit of this “holiday” alive?

It really doesn’t make any sense. He could relay the client calls to his secretary, Eren, for an hour and a half, then once he gets back, he could go through them and call them back again.

Was it that hard to do?

Despite your many pleas of asking him to just stop working for a few minutes and eat some take out McDonald’s chicken nuggets with you, he still refuses to do so. He even remarked about how unhealthy they were, but you corrected him by telling him that it was alright to eat from time to time at least.  

The whole chicken nuggets exchange you had with him, put you into an even more sour mood.

Before he could even ask where you were about to go, you stormed out of his office, trying to get a reaction from him, so that he would try and make it up you. However, that did not happen and your romantic fantasy of Levi holding you by the wrist, whispering huskily into your ear, not wanting you to leave was not achieved.

So, you then head over to Hange’s office where they were eating lunch with their secretary, Moblit, and surprisingly, the company’s very own Erwin Smith, the CEO of Survey Corp. (get it? Because survey corps? Mwahahaah ok I’ll see myself out)

This got you even more confused, because why are both Hange and Erwin able to eat lunch so casually whilst your husband is so tense and stressed about all the paper works that he has to go through?

“AHH! Ms (Y/N)!” Hange beams at you as soon as they see you enter the room. “What brings you here? Does Levi not want to leave his office again?” They giggled. You greet the three of them back with a wave, but a sad smile present on your face. Erwin raises his eyebrow at you in worry.

“Ms (Y/N), is everything alright?” The blonde man asks worriedly, taking another sip of his afternoon tea. “Did you get into a fight with our most loved and hardworking executive?” He teases, trying to keep the atmosphere light and carefree.

“That’s the problem actually.” You laugh exasperatedly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “He promised me that we would go out for lunch, but he didn’t commit and told me he was caught up in a lot of business calls, and he didn’t want to miss any of them as they were very important.”

“Oh? He can just give them to Eren though. They aren’t extremely important calls. We’re not even trying to bag some huge business deal right now. I told Levi to loosen up a bit, but he continues to want to see through with everything.”

You breathe out an irritated sigh, crossing your arms in disappointment. “I’ll be going back to his office now. I’ll be talking to my husband about this and his workaholic tendencies.” You bite your lip, trying to muster a smile, waving goodbye and leaving as soon as you arrived.

“Aw. I wasn’t able to ask if she wanted some sashimi.” Hange pouts, holding a small paper bag that contained the premium dish. “Erwinnn should I go after her?”

“Nope. Don’t.” Erwin shakes his head, laughing, clearly in a very good mood.

“Huh!? Why can’t I-“

Erwin gives them a knowing look, raising his eyebrow suggestively as if referring to something.

“Ohhhh.”

You arrive back at Levi’s office, your arms crossed, waiting for the raven-haired man to greet you. The man you know and love so well, was still very much engrossed with the materials and blueprints he was reading.

He looks up at you then goes back to what he was doing.

You lock the door behind you and then proceed to sit at the long velvety couch situated in the middle of Levi’s huge ass office. Your arms remain crossed, so were your legs as you begin to read a random book laying on the coffee table.

Levi steals some quick glances at you from time to time and your petty self pretends that you don’t notice him doing so.

You hear him sigh and take off his black rimmed glasses that he only wears during work. He then rubs his temples and clear his throat, to try and get your attention.

“(Y/N) love, I know you’re disappointed over the fact I didn’t push through with our lunch plans. I know that you know how much I love you but this is a very important-“

You stand up from the couch and throw the book carelessly to the table. Approaching him with a rather alluring aura surrounding you, your husband giving you a puzzled look as you arrive in front of his table.

He stands up, thinking you were about to envelop him in a hug and accept his apology until…

You grip the lapels of his suit and yank Levi hard against you.

“Prove it.”

Your lips clash with his. Kissing him with every ounce of frustration and heat in your body. But even as Levi’s arms come around you, holding you flush against him, he suddenly pulls back with a questioning look on his face.

“(Y/N)…”

“Maybe you might be too busy for this too Mr. Ackerman.”

You push his jacket off his shoulders before your fingers slide along the back of his neck as you guide his wet, hungry mouth back to yours.

Levi spins you around, pushing your back against the cold glass of the windowpane, the beautiful city skyline as your backdrop whilst you make love? It was perfect.

He lifts your wrists up above your head, holding it there with one hand while the other explores your body, caressing the skin he could touch even though you were still fully clothed.

“Levi…”

You feel exposed in a way that makes your pulse race, the intensity and the heat between the two of you continue to escalate as his fingers find a strip of bare skin at your waist, then slide up beneath your clothes to trace the curve of your breast. He continues fondling it whilst his other hand slowly unbuttons your blouse, revealing the beauty that was your upper body. Levi takes in the view, breathing

You arch your back, pressing your body against him. His tongue continues to tangle  with yours, and he moans into your mouth.

“Can you even get back to work after this?”

“It depends how much you can keep me busy.”

Levi picks you up easily in his arms. You lock your legs around his waist as he carries you across the office.  He sweeps everything off his desk with a loud crash and lays you down.

Again, you were seeing a different version of him. Not only was it not typical of him to be careless and thrashing things around like this, but the way you can feel his heart beat and his emotions just by these gestures and the two of you haven’t even arrived at the good part yet.

Your head swims, going wild over the thought of what the two of you could end up doing as he unfastens your clothes and throws them across the room. Very out of character for a man who wants to be clean and organized all the time.

His lips trail kisses all over your body, pausing to skim his teeth along your side, caressing each soft spot, turning you on even more.

“I want to eat you up…” He whispers, continuing to smother you with all the love that he can give, touching you everywhere he can.

You look down your body at him, taking in the intense look in his eyes. You want him…

But you also want to make him pay for how he treated you today.

“You have to earn that privilege, Mr. Ackerman.”

You sit up from the desk, pushing him back lightly.

“(Y/N)…”

“You’ve been a naughty boy, Levi.” You wink at him, sucking your finger and waving it in front of him. “And you know what that means…”

“I’m going to tie you up.”

Levi, lets out a soft curse, as you hop down from the desk and motion for him to take a seat behind it. He has no choice but to follow you, albeit a bit surprised as this was something new that the two of you haven’t experience yet. He starts to move around the desk when you call out to him.

“Wait.”

You lean in and skim your fingers over the exposed skin of his chest, then tug lightly on the open flap of his shirt.

“I don’t want to have to deal with this later.” You wink at him again, running your fingers through his abs, caressing them, and you know that something was stimulating inside of your raven-haired lover.

Levi then quickly strips out of the rest of his clothes, then takes a seat in his office chair, arms on the armrests.

You grab a spare cord from one of his desk drawers, then tie his wrist to the chair. You do the same for his other hand, letting your fingers trail along his bare body, noticing the bulging erection in his pants before you step back and admire your handiwork.

“Aren’t you a sight?” You tease him, your husband smirks and shakes his head at how you were the one showing dominance this time around.

Levi tries to reach for you but stops when he pulls against the cords. He sits back with a pout.

“This isn’t fair.” He cursed under his breath. “I want to touch you.”

“Oh… you want to talk about not fair? What have you been doing all morning then?”

You lean over the chair, careful not to touch him, to try and tease him even more. You let your breasts idle near his face… so close, you can feel his breath ghost over your skin. He visibly gulps.

“And now you’re being punished for it.”

You hop back on the desk, facing Levi. You spread your legs so he can see every inch of you, you hear him gulp again and you were loving the attention as you slip your fingers under your panties.

“Tch…” He cursed under his breath.

Your head lulls back as you let the pleasure course through your veins, trying your best to stop yourself from mewling in pleasure. You call out his name, as if imagining that you were pleasuring yourself whilst he wasn’t around. “A-ah…”

Touching yourself in front of Levi is a power trip like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. You can barely control your movements as your hips buck up. You continue to rub your clit in a circular motion. Your husband continues to watch.

Levi licks his lips as he struggles against his restraints. You slow your fingers as you consider him…

“Hmm… have you been punished enough yet?”

“No… but I can’t make it up to you properly unless you let me touch you.” He continues to breathe heavily, still trying to free himself from the restraints.

Selfishly, you know he’s right. You reach out to untie the cords, and he’s all over you, quickly pressing your body onto his, before the ropes even fall to the ground. Levi continues to kiss you deeply, pressing you back against the desk as his hands work your panties down your thighs.

“I haven’t been able to think about anything else all day. I know we could have just done this at home.”

“And now? What do you think is the point of this work holiday?”

His fingers make their way back up your bare legs, stroking you teasingly.  “And now… I can barely control myself. I want to devour you.”

You lean back and let your legs fall open as wide as they can. You fight back a blush as he hungrily takes in every inch of you. Levi bows at your feet, lowering his mouth between your thighs and working his tongue against you. He slowly licks the inside curves of your pussy, taking in every inch of you. He continues to make work of exploring your insides by a finger, pushing it in and out.

You shiver and grip the desk, reeling from the sensation.

“Levi!”

“If you want me to make this up to you properly, then you can’t come yet.” He stops for a second, now it was his turn to tease you.

“Can you do that, Ms. Ackerman? Can you hold back until I tell you?” Levi punctuates his question with a devilish twirl of his tongue, and you gasp.

“Yes. I can.”

“I can take whatever you have to give. Don’t hold back.”

Levi smirks at you, and you know he’ll rise to the challenge. He licks his lips… then dips his head and licks you. His tongue continues to ravish you, deeply and heavily, unrelenting.

“A-ah I’m going to!“ You mewl, your hands looking for something to grasp.

“Already? I thought you said you could take it?”

Your body trembles as he sucks and nips on your nipples, leading you toward the brink. He makes his tongue rigid as it flicks against your clit. You lift your head enough to see Levi’s hand working between his legs, touching his cock in rhythm with you as he groans out your name.

“L-levi…” You gesture him to enter you, your finger pointing down as your breath continues to hitch, craving more for him.

He slowly enters as if teasing you, and you feel your juices stimulate as you become one with him. He continues to thrust in, shifting from a normal to a fast pace, still relentlessly teasing you. How the tables have turned.

Levi’s pace grows even faster and faster, it was as if his dick was enlarging inside of you too. Your moans were in sync with his and with one final thrust…

That’s all it takes. Your body clenches, and you fly over the edge, ecstasy crashing over you.

You both exchange your I love you’s, leaning in for one last kiss as you feel the last pump enter inside you.

Levi slowly holds you and helps you down from the desk. It was such a smooth release that not one drop fell onto the desk. If it did though, his clean freak tendencies would probably show by now.

“Let’s clean up. I have a meeting at 3.” He says, still catching his breath, picking up his clothes that he threw from the other side of the room.

“So… you’re telling me that we can still have our lunch date!?” Your eyes lit up; the raven-haired man offers to help you clip your bra.

“Yes. Then let’s go to the spa after.” He smiles, combing a hand through your hair, kissing your shoulder before you finish wearing your blouse again.

“Does that mean we can also do it in the spa?” You ask, suggestively.

“No.”

“Aw. You’re no fun.”

Fin.

me after writing this and as i hit post now:

[twiceblackvelvet]

Eclipse

Request; Could I request for LOONA kim lip with prompt "were you singing my song?", fluff? Thank you! ^^

A/N; i lost this request somewhere. tumblr hates me here. i took this on a little bit of a different route than the usual because well, it wouldn’t be me if i didn’t try to be different lol. anyway! enjoy anon. sorry for the wait. 

Warm air traps you in place sitting idly, headphones placed in your ears, and a glass of water filled to the brim with ice placed beside your leg. The window slightly ajar to allow the very little breeze on offer to hit your skin, a small offering of mercy from the rays beaming down from above. Your shadow being illuminated by the deadly sun being your only companion other than the herds of people walking around the city below you. All of which likely suffering from the heatwave far worse. 

It’s calm, peaceful, albeit for the beads of sweat threatening to pour down your forehead at any given moment. The soft melody playing from your phone up to your headphones is particularly catchy, though, you’re not sure if you’ve heard it or not before now. Whoever is singing has a delightful tone that makes the hairs on your arm stand to attention. It’s beautiful you think. You quickly tap the little heart on the screen to make sure you don’t lose it amongst the playlist. 

Eclipse.

It somehow becomes the song for you in the weeks following. Every time you listen to it your ears take note to different parts of the song that you hadn’t picked up on previously. Be it the instrumental, the adlibs, or just the voice. Anyone else would have been driven to insanity after having listened to it as often as you have, and yet, you catch yourself more often than not using the repeat feature. 

Part of you doesn’t wish to learn more about the person behind the angelic voice, after all, sometimes that can lead to disappointment if it turns out they’re a beautiful singer but an awful person. Yet, the girl displayed on the screen has you more than intrigued if truth be told. You soon learn that she isn’t a solo artist as you had assumed but rather part of a group with eleven other people. After consuming all of their music in one afternoon, it becomes clear to you that whilst all of their music is to your liking, her own song stands out the most to you. 

It’s like the shuffle option on your phone just knows when to hit you with those atmospheric synths,  sitting on a train headed towards work. It’s a quiet day, people simply seated and minding their own business which is a relief. Your headphones placed firmly inside your ears, the lack of noise surrounding you is a huge upgrade from the usual commotion you’ve grown used to dealing with. Your hand resting atop your lap gently taps along to the beat as you zone out briefly until the train comes to a halt. 

Lack of people around is not a privilege you’re offered once you’re out of the station as the streets are lined with people scurrying along, likely doing the same as you. You instinctively turn the volume up to an almost deafening level before striding onward. 

Draining. That’s the only way to describe your day. Everything that could go wrong, managed to, and everything that could go right evaded you like the plague. The walk home made even more excruciating by the fact that your headphones have decided to give up on you. Every step feels like it’s going to be your last if you aren’t in the comfort and safety of your own home soon. 

Without even realizing it, you slowly begin to hum a tune as you walk, your brain’s way of offering you something to focus on other than the dark streets ahead. The lyrics soon begin to jumble out of your mouth too, not in the correct order, key or rhythm they’re supposed to, but you do your best to sound quietly decent. It’s relaxing and makes you feel a little bit more at ease. 

Well, it would, if it weren’t for some very loud steps from behind you beginning to grow closer and closer to you. Your first instinct is to swing around extremely fast and hopefully knock whoever this strange person is flying far enough away from you to be able to at least get a head start on them. However, they’re a lot quicker than you imagined and instead their body collides with your own and the two of you end up laying in a heap in the middle of the sidewalk together. 

You’ve seen this happen plenty of times on television or in films, yet what they don’t show you or explain is just how painful it is to hit the ground with force and have a whole other body on top of your own. A visit to the chiropractor will definitely be happening in the foreseeable. 

“I’m so sorry, oh my god! Are you okay?” The words hit your ears like a sharp sting, either that or this collision has truly broken your spine. “Please say something.” 

Your eyes readjust to look up at the owner of the body still uncomfortably pressed against your own. A hood is pulled up over their head but you can see some brown flowing hair poking out of the side of it. Dark eyes that are wide and alarmed, likely because you still haven’t said a word or that it’s only just become aware to them that they’re pressing down onto you. 

“Sorry, again,” the stranger apologizes once more as she finally stands up and offers a hand for you to grab. “Come on, you can’t lay there and be silent, either speak or get up at least.” A chuckle follows her words and you’re convinced it’s the softest thing you’ve ever heard. 

Latching onto her hand, you finally stand on your own two feet once more. Her grip almost crushes the bones in your own, but she relinquishes it as soon as she sees that you’re okay. 

“Do you usually run into people at full force?” You ask, annoyed tone obvious and aiming right for her. 

“N-no.” The stranger stutters. “I just got a little bit excited when I heard you singing, can you do it again?” 

Great, you think, not only has she managed to damage your entire frame but now she’s after your sanity too having overheard your out of tune singing, if you can call it that. 

“No? I wasn’t singing for you. It’s scary out here, there are random people who will run right into you after all.” 

Almost in slow motion, or maybe it’s just the trance-like state she’s put you into, the woman removes the hood covering the majority of her head. Those brown locks of hair end up sliding down her back gracefully and her features become clearer without the darkness of the material blocking them. She looks, familiar. Though you’re certain the two of you have never met before. 

“Please, just like a few seconds of it and then I’ll leave you alone, I promise.” Her begging right before you bizarrely makes your heart swell inside your chest. Never did you imagine that this was the encounter you’d be receiving when you first heard the impending footsteps behind you. 

“Why?” 

She clears her throat and looks around awkwardly as if there are people around to overhear your conversation. There isn’t. 

“I think it was my song you were singing.” Though the words exit her mouth at a normal rate, time seems to slow down between you both the more she continues. That and you’re ready for the world to swallow you whole, spit you back out, and then swallow you again. Because, yes, that familiarity you felt stems from the fact that this is Kim Lip stood right before you. “It sounded really pretty, please.”

All of the air in your lungs couldn’t force the song out of your throat even if you wanted to accept her request. But you definitely don’t. Frankly, you’re embarrassed enough and you can’t imagine how she must be feeling about it all. It’s best for both of you if you simply walk away now and forget this ever happened. Which is what you attempt to do. However, her hand latches onto your coat and pulls you back into place in front of her. 

“Come on, I’ll sing it with you.” She stares deep into your eyes. Genuine in her approach, you can’t help but give in to her request.

Despite having heard the song several times and just singing it merely seconds ago, hearing Kim Lip right before you softly let out the lyrics herself, you stumble over a few of the words which earn you a bright smile from her. Your own embarrassment being the only coherent thought in your mind other than just how perfect she sounds and that anyone would believe you’re listening to the version from your phone and not a real person before you. 

She suddenly grasps your hand, presumably to be encouraging, however, your nerves get the better of you and suddenly you can feel it shaking against her own skin. She doesn’t let go, simply holds it a little tighter.

“You’re a good singer.” She stops mid-song to not just tell you but almost convince you. Her features show that she can sense you aren’t confident in this moment but she’s imploring you to try or at least one day believe it. “Thank you so much for singing with me.”

Her hand finally let’s go of your own and she places the hood back over her head, her face darkening in the process to where all you can properly see are her sparkling eyes that you’re sure look as if they’re on the verge of tears, though, you’re unsure why. 

“Are you okay?” You decide to ask her. 

She heaves a deep sigh and looks away from you briefly before answering. 

“I’m fine, I’ve just never heard someone else sing my song yet.” The corners of her lips curve up into a brief smile before she continues. “Thank you, I should probably head back but please keep singing. I might see you around someday.” 

Before you even attempt to thank her yourself, she’s darting off just as fast as she collided with you into the night. When you began your day, never did you imagine such a thing would happen, nor are you certain it actually has, however, a quick nip to your arm proves you are awake and not in a state of sleep to dream this whole thing up. 

The Kim Lip heard you sing her song, and liked it? 

It’s a small world after all. 

[losing-victor]

The Red Strings of Fates – Solangelo Your Name AU ficlet

This story is inspired by the anime, Your Name which is a movie that depicts how the red string of fate ties the two protagonists. This story will adopt some scenes from the movie but formed to fit the storyline better. Like in Your Name, they also switch places with their bodies, at first thinking it was a dream. But after some getting used to, they manage to live with their switched lives laying down some ground rules, the ones they figured out when they learned to communicate. But there’s a greater purpose for the switch, a greater purpose in which they only realize later on. In Your Name, everything was bound to be forgotten like a dream because the switch came with a cost: a sacrifice. In this story? I do not know yet.

Maybe I’ll upload on ao3 once I’ve finished uploading all the parts in tumblr, but for now: here is the prologue (or premise Idk really) of “Red Strings of Fates”:

“According to Greek mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves.”

When he woke up, it was disorientating. The drab room painted in gray spun around while his vision tried so desperately to stay awake. The gust of wind outside is what woke him, making him shiver. In his head, Niccolò thinks, Bianca must’ve forgotten to close the windows again. He turns to look at the side of his cot, trying to reach for a mother that was never there. His arm relaxes and instead looks for his sister.

“You’re awake,” Her sister strode into the room, strands of hair peeking out from the laced cloth that covered the crown of her head. The loosely tied fabric was hastily done as if she had done it by herself because usually it would be done by mamma. She tightens the belt that cinches her waist and for a moment, Niccolò sees a look of conflict on her face as she glances at him.

Niccolò did not know what to make of it.

“Get dressed,” Her voice was sharp but it was forced, seeing how it quickly cracked at the end. “Your robes are already in bagno, while your hat is in the living room.” Her gaze softened when he finally stood up and looked up to meet her gaze. “Sbrigati, per piacere,” And Bianca was gone.

Niccolò looked outside of the window, his eyes glazing over the dead town. A town they would probably have to leave without knowing why. But mamma knows, Niccolò has crept up in the living room on nights he couldn’t sleep because he craved for warmth his mother so often could not give as their country is on the brink of a war. No, he corrects himself, there is war. But for some reason, they do not receive the hellfire of it. That is probably why mamma prays to God, why they go to church to pray the rosary every 6 am. Niccolò might be safe, but there’s something that makes him feel restless as he watches every reason to stay become meaningless. At 9 years old, Niccolò might have the privilege to not participate in a war, but feels like a victim.

There was the cold wind again, Niccolò tiptoed to shut the window and headed to the bathroom.

He stood before the sink of the running cold water and splashed his face. He looks in the mirror and almost slips when he sees his eyes. The bagno was thankfully small because it was the wall that his back slams against that prevented the fall. Niccolò blinks, his eyes were black again. But he could’ve sworn they were blue. He shakily straightens his body and takes the quickest shower under the cold water that for a second makes his skin feel like it was on fire. He jumps a foot in the air but for the second he wills himself to stay put.

He closes his eyes and sees blue.

Niccolò rushes out, hair dripping and his cloth belt hastily put on that the creases of his robe were certain to not appeal to his mother’s. Bianca meets him from outside holding out a hat in one hand, a brush in the other. She hands him the hat, which he takes and hugs close to his chest. Tenderly, she brushes his hair, carding her fingers through the wet mess of his unevenly trimmed locks that looked like spaghettini. She then puts her attention to the belt, fixes the crease with little to no effort at all. He wonders how she can put that much effort into him but not apply that same to her own.

“Grazie,” He says, a little ashamed.

Bianca tilts his chin in order for them to meet gazes. “You’re welcome,” She squeezes his shoulder, “You should introduce me to Anatolio, when we get to the church,” Niccolò’s eyes widened. He had male friends?

Niccolò bit his lip, how did he not remember that? Mamma said that younger boys like him if stuck around older boys, would be teased but he knew what really meant. (It meant torture.) It was why his mother says to stick around a girl. A girl he likes while Bianca had to choose a man to befriend. He doesn’t quite understand but he tries to anyway.

“Niccolò, Bianca,” the voice of his mother made him shake off the hold his sister had on him as he skips over to her, clutching on her dress as if on instinct. The palm on the back of his head was comforting. He looks up and sees her smile. “Let us go,”

They go out of the door and they keep huddled together with heads down. He wonders if from here he could still hear the shouts and screams of the tortured. He takes a glance to his side and looks down once more. He sucks a breath and wonders why he feels like he is suffocating. Then he remembers it’s the 1920s in Italy.

Everyone was holding their breath for some miracle to come, and Niccolò was no different.

-

“You’re up early,” Naomi Solace watches her son, illuminated by the dim light emanating from the open refrigerator door, freeze while getting a carton of milk when he hears her voice . The sun had barely risen but it already gave its position away, peeking from the clouds.She wrapped the cardigan closer to her body.

“Sorry, mom,” Will’s shoulders sagged, and put the carton of milk back before he gets a glass of water instead and drinks.

Naomi raised an eyebrow, her look directed at him filled with concern. Why was his son sorry for drinking milk? But it goes unnoticed by the 9-year-old boy who was now sitting at the stool bar of their kitchen island.

“I’m always telling ya to wake up early,” She walks over to him and ruffles his blond hair. “Why are ya sorry for, huh?” He doesn’t speak and only stares at the empty glass. It’s when she gets really concerned and sits at the stool beside his. “Okay, maybe I didn’t mean early as in quarter to 6 but I won’t get angry at ya, what’s wrong?”

“Bad dream,” is what he only gives. Naomi’s eyes widened at that and gave him a hug of which was warmly welcomed by her son. She could not imagine the day she loses him, Not yet, too young, she prays, “It’s so real, mom,” He sniffles in his cardigan. “And you weren’t there,”

Naomi did not understand, but she knew she had to begin to ease him into this world, a crazy world and so she sits back down the stool, the wood screeching a little when she drags it just a tad to let her be closer to her son. Naomi wipes the tears from his face with a swipe of her thumb and began,

"Honey, how much do you know about Greek Mythology?"

Will shook his head, "Not much, just these gods and they're many."

Naomi smiles, "Many indeed, how about a fun story?" She offers and he perks up significantly. She runs a hand through his shortened blond curls, and her palm rests on the side of his cheek to which he leans. She takes that as an invitation, "In Greek Mythology, there are soulmates…"

Will Solace listened intently to every word as if he was keeping it close to his heart. At 9 years old, without the knowledge of his mother, Will Solace dares to dream to find his own soulmate.

(Will will hold his breath for then until then.)

Okay folks, search for Your Name Nandemonaiya English Version by Akane Sasu Sora and you'll see why I had inspiration for this fic and mind you I think I'll have major plotholes and man, I'm gonna fuck this up, but yeah if you bear with bad writing I swear I have a point.

Actually can you just watch Your Name? Without the language barrier, it'd be oscar nominated, it's that good. Anyway, the twist in that was heart-wrenching. Okay bye, this fic is found in #RSF part whatever so yeah. Let me know if you wanna be tagged for the next one!

[let-it-raines]

your wonder under summer skies (5/?)

Summer in Storybrooke, Maine means one thing for its residents: tourist season. This year, for Emma Swan and Killian Jones, it means relationships ending and friendships changing all the while they attempt to figure out just what their relationship is. It’s somewhere straddling the line between friends and lovers, and there’s no guarantee of a soft landing if they fall into new territory.

rating: mature

a/n: thanks to @resident-of-storybrooke for reading over these words ❤️

And to everyone else, happy Friday! You’ve made it through another week!

ao3: beginning | current

tumblr:  1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 

-/-

“Where are you going?”

Emma twists her head to the side and tugs her comforter up to her chest. “To get some water.”

“I wore you out then, did I?”

Emma groans and tries to get out of bed before Killian’s hands wrap around her waist and tug her back. His lips press against the back of her neck, scruff scratching against skin, and she melts into the feeling of it.

Almost.

“Wait, wait,” she interrupts, pulling away from him and twisting in the bed until she’s back on her side and facing him. He’s got red pillow creases all across his face, and he desperately needs to fix his hair. It’s a mess. They probably both are. “We need to talk.”

His eyes flutter closed before his lips spread into a smile. “I’ve found when a woman says that I’m rarely in for a pleasant conversation.”

Emma swallows and pulls the comforter up a little higher. She doesn’t know how well this is going to go, but it’s been on her mind pretty much every other minute for the past week. Well, besides when she wants to pull her hair out over the insane specificities that her boss is giving her for every event they’ve got on the books. A regular Tuesday night dinner with twenty people does not need to be the most well thought out dinner in the history of dinners, but no one seems to understand that.

A part of her almost misses waitressing, but then she remembers the pay and how shitty people are to waitstaff.

“We need to make rules,” Emma blurts out. She’s got to bite the bullet or else she’ll never do it.

Both of Killian’s brows raise at that. “Rules?”

“Yeah, about this.” She motions between the two of them. “I don’t – hell, Killian, we’ve kind of fallen into…”

“Bed?” he laughs, his lips ticking up into a broad smile.

“Shut up.”

“What? It’s the truth.”

“I know, but I – look, we’re friends, right?”

“Aye.” He nods and sits up as the sheets fall down to his waist and she’s only slightly distracted by the dip in his collarbone and the way the ink on his shoulder stretches across his skin. “To be quite frank, you’ve somehow wormed your way into being my closest mate.”

“Your closest mate who you’ve now been sleeping with for, like, a week, and not to be too emotionally aware since that is not my expertise, but I feel like that’s going to blow up in our faces at some point since we’re not really talking about it.”

Whew. She got that out. That was the hard part, right?

“Ah, so you want to make rules?”

“Exactly.”

Killian clicks his tongue and points between them. “If we make rules, Swan, it means we’re continuing this. Do you want to continue this?”

God, yes.

“I mean, I feel like it could be beneficial to both of us.”

“How so?”

He knows exactly what she’s trying to say, but the asshole is going to make her say it. Maybe she didn’t get the hard part over. “I’m not looking for a relationship,” Emma starts, “and I assume you’re not either.”

“I’m not,” he confirms.

“So why don’t we continue this? No strings attached. I don’t have to be some poor, heartbroken woman as my ex walks around with the woman he cheated on me with without a care in the world, and you don’t have to find one of your women for the summer. I can be that for you.”

Killian hums and scratches behind his ear before tilting his head to the side. The light from outside is hitting his eyes so that the blue is even brighter than usual, and a shiver runs down her spine as he stares at her.

This is weird but good.

“Rule one would have to be that we don’t let sleeping together get in the way of our friendship,” Killian starts, holding a finger up. “I can’t stay sane without having you to vent to about customers and Liam and also Will purposely not restocking my rum at the bar.”

Emma huffs. “I can’t stay sane without middle of the night slushie runs and runs with Skipper.”

“So, we agree on that then? Our friendship comes first.”

“Absolutely.”

“And we’re both fully aware that the both of us are using each other for sex, correct?”

“Well, don’t put it like that.”

“Why?” he laughs. “That’s exactly what we’re doing.”

“Yeah, but if you put it that way, it makes it sound absolutely dirty.”

“Dirty, huh?” Killian shifts in the bed and moves over toward her. Emma falls back onto the mattress while Killian climbs over her until he’s caging her in and staring down at her with those blue, blue eyes. This shouldn’t feel so damn good, but it does. “I can show you dirty, darling.”

“I think you’re changing the subject.”

“We were talking about sex.” He leans down and nestles his chin into her neck until his teeth tug at her skin, quickly soothing the spot with his tongue. “I’m simply changing it from talk to the act.”

“We have to finish our conversation,” she protests, falsely, as her nails scratch down his back. He groans, and Emma can’t say she minds the sound.

“There will be plenty of time for your lovely little rules later. I can assure you I will listen to them and follow them and do every little thing you ask of me. That’s the benefit of sleeping with a friend who is accustomed to listening to you.”

Emma’s hips arch up into his, and she gulps down as heat licks along her skin and curls between her thighs. He’s more addicting than he has any right to be, and she could definitely get used to a no strings attached kind of situation like this.

Friends with benefits.

She never thought she’d be the type of girl to do that, but it was probably because the situation hadn’t presented itself yet. It obviously has now.

She didn’t have the right friends, apparently.

“You’re a bad influence.”

“I never claimed to be otherwise,” he whispers into her ear, his voice soft before becoming gritty, almost in a blink of an eye. “Now wrap your legs around me. I prefer to do more enjoyable activities with a woman on her back than spending my time talking.”

“I feel like nothing has ever stopped you from talking before.” “Well, if my mouth is otherwise occupied, it does become a challenge. But, you know, I do love a challenge.”

-/-

Killian Jones: Rule #2. We don’t tell any of our friends.

Emma Swan: Agreed. They would lose their shit.

Killian Jones: Liam and David would join forces to keep us both locked in our apartments.

Emma Swan: David would at least give me food and water. Liam might leave you hanging.

Killian Jones: I’d somehow find a way to get Skipper to bring me food. Or you could find a way to send me something.

Emma Swan: It’d be the least I could do.

“What are you doing?”

Emma hits the button on the side of her phone and stuffs it in her back pocket. “I was checking our schedule for today.”

Mary Margaret tilts her head. “We’ve got the Silver Club’s luncheon at noon, a group information session at three, and then we have the Welcome Dinner tonight. How did you forget that? We’ve been planning this for months.”

“I didn’t forget,” Emma lies as she stands from the chair. “I was double-checking the times.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I just want everything to go well, you know?”

“Emma.” Mary Margaret walks closer and leans against the wall next to Emma. “You just ended a long, serious relationship. It’s okay to not be okay. You’ve been frazzled, and I don’t mind picking up any of the slack that you need me to pick up.”

“I’m fine,” Emma lies. “I am not at all upset about Neal. I just want to, you know…”

“You want to what?”

Emma puts her hands in front of her chest and pushes forward. “I want to push past it, shove it away.” “Of course, of course.” Mary Margaret’s ballet flat scuffs against the hardwood. “I always thought you two were good together. There’s not a chance that – ”

“Fuck no,” Emma laughs even as she wishes she could be anywhere but here. “I mean, we had our good moments, but I’ve been through too much shit to stay with him. I think for the first time I – you know what, never mind, it’s not important. Let’s get back to the dinner. Do you think it’s going to go well?” Super smooth subject change there, Emma. Mary Margaret definitely didn’t notice it at all.

Mary Margaret sighs and wraps her arm around Emma’s shoulder. “It always goes well. You’re good at this. You’ve got to know that by now.”

“I pretty much live in constant fear that Regina is going to fire me because someone is unhappy with a color scheme or because a kid is going to tell their parent we didn’t have the right kind of lemonade and then the parent decides to take rare interest in their kid for once just to make my life miserable.”

“Yeah, I live in constant fear of that, too. Those parents are scary.”

“How many are coming to the information session?”

“Ten new couples, three returning who want an update, and then we’ve got forty kids already signed up to stay in the kids’ club all summer.”

Emma lets out a low whistle. “Ashley and Aurora are going to lose their minds if we don’t get the part-time hires on board.”

“Or if we don’t help them out more than on the excursions.”

She hums and opens up the door out of her office. “I’m too busy dealing with whiny, privileged adults complaining about how the pool isn’t the right temperature.”

“You’re right. It’s such a hard life.”

Emma snickers. “Maybe we’re not meant for this job.”

“Probably not, but you prefer this to waitressing, right?”

“Oh hell yes. I will not go back to that and sleeping on your couch. You were the best for taking me in since I was pretty much a walking human disaster, but there will be no more sleeping on your couch. I like having my own bed and being able to eat food other than kitchen leftovers.”

“I do miss you on my couch, though. Lots of good talks. And my hair was long then, and you were the best at braiding it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Emma laughs. She takes a deep breath, letting a little bit of the heaviness on her chest evaporate. Mary Margaret pushes her a hell of a lot, but sometimes she does know when to step back. “I know you do. Now come on, let’s go make sure that there are no pink linens or Mrs. Rose will absolutely lose her shit.” “And we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“Oh, I would, but like I said, I also like my job.”

“Then no pink linens it is.”

-/-

“How did I know I’d find you here?”

Emma’s heartbeat picks up at the familiar voice, and she looks up from her spot to see Killian walking down the beach toward her.

“Because Mary Margaret probably told you.”

“Damn, I’ve been found out.” He takes a few more steps until he’s sliding down onto the lounge chair next to her and handing her a slushie. “Because they melted the other night.”

Her cheeks heat at the thought, and she’s got to stop doing that. They are adults sleeping together, and there’s no need for her to feel weird about that. It’s a little weird talking about it somewhere other than a bedroom or over text, though. Yeah, that’s why his reference made her cheeks flush. That’s the only reason.

“Thank you.” She takes quick sip. “Is there tequila in this?”

“I thought you could use it after your Welcome Dinner. I know that’s hell every year.”

“Oh my God, yes,” Emma groans. “It was the worst. I swear it’s more people every year, and they all show up thinking this is going to be like that episode of Mrs. Maisel where they show up at the summer camp and never have to lift a finger. I mean, to the point where I would be putting their food in their mouths, which I am not going to do.”

“Isn’t that kind of what this is?”

Emma glares at him, but Killian not-so-slyly takes a sip of his drink and avoids her stare.

That was smart of him because she’s just exhausted enough to want to slap him for being a smart ass.

“No. We’re not a resort. They just come to the club for meals and parties and leave their kids with us all day. They ask us where they can rent or keep their boats, and I obviously only recommend you, and then they have to go home to their own homes or rentals at the end of the day where I have nothing to do with them or what they ear.”

“Oh, yeah, totally different than it being a resort.”

“Shut up,” Emma chuckles as she drinks her slushie. She’s going to have to run in the morning to work off all of the food she’s been eating today. She had so many of the cookies before they went out to the tables. “It is different. I’m just at their beck and call for half of the day. I would lose my mind if I had to do more.”

“A job’s a job.”

“And when you’re not qualified to do much else…”

Killian kicks his leg out in the sand toward her. “If things don’t work out for you, you can come work for me.”

Emma sputters out a laugh. “Liam would never in a million years let me work with you guys.”

“Oh, come on. He definitely would…at some point…maybe two million years.”

She rolls her eyes and twists on the lounge chair until she’s facing Killian again. A breeze from the ocean wafts toward her, and chills pop up on her arms. Killian silently shrugs off his sweatshirt before handing it over to her. He’s got on a Henley underneath it, and he obviously is more prepared for the late-night chill than she is.

“Liam isn’t my biggest fan. It’s okay. I’ll just have to go back to waitressing when I lose my mind on a member and throw a drink in their face.”

“Hey, now, he does like you a little bit. Let’s not immediately jump to throwing drinks in someone’s face.”

“You don’t have to placate me, KJ. Your brother is a stubborn ass to me. It runs in the family, but one of you at least makes up for it by providing drinks and mediocre conversation.”

Killian scoffs before leaning back up against the chair and running his hands through his hair. The scars on his hand look almost silver in the moonlight. She’s never noticed that before.

“Mediocre conversation? Is that what this is? I happened to think I was a brilliant conversationalist.”

“Occasionally. Did you know they want me to start wearing a uniform?”

“What?”

“Yeah, Regina is losing her shit. She wants me to wear khaki shorts and a different pastel colored polo for different days of the week, but that’s only for the afternoons. At night, she still wants me to get dressed up so I can ‘look like a member and not an employee.’”

“You’re not serious.”

“I am.”

“Damn,” Killian whistles. “I am going to love giving you shit about that.”

“Ha, I’m not going to wear the polos. I already have to wear the damn khaki shorts when we do events on the beach, but I am not wearing the polos. I’ll get fired first.”

“It’s a good thing you’ll have a job with me in a million years.”

“Two, I thought.”

“Possibly three.”

Emma laughs and settles back down onto the chair as she keeps drinking. Killian got a little too much cherry in this. Or maybe that’s just the tequila. It’s good, though, and she needed it tonight.

God, the people at the club are all so obnoxious, and she’s desperately going to miss fall and winter when she didn’t have people hounding her with questions every day all day. She deserves hazard pay for every person that makes a snide remark about the linens or someone who they think doesn’t fit the type of person they want at the club.

They don’t know she’s the exact type of person they wouldn’t want to associate with.

Foster kid, no money, little education, run ins with the law…the list goes on and on.

But she’s not that person anymore. She’s not. She’s at least got her life together in that she has money and isn’t having to steal Pop-Tarts from convenience stores.

Now she just drinks slushies from them that have tequila mixed in.

At least these were paid for.

She hopes. No, she knows. Killian definitely paid for them.

“Oh,” Emma says, “I thought of another rule. It’s kind of a big one.”

“Is it now?”

“If you want to start sleeping with other people, you can. Just say the word if you meet someone like, you know, you usually do, and we can stop. There’s no need to do it if you’re sleeping with someone else.”

Killian’s brows furrow, and he scratches his chin. “I thought we had already decided I didn’t need to find someone? I don’t purposefully look for someone, by the way. It just happens.”

“Oh, yes, I’m so beautiful too that people just line up to sleep with me.”

“I mean, you are. You’d have to be blind not to know that.”

Emma swallows and tugs down the sleeves on the sweatshirt before crossing her arms over her chest, hugging her stomach tightly. She is not going to give herself enough time to process what he just said. “Anyway, I mean that if you meet someone and want to give it a shot, go for it. Give me the word, and we can start pretending I’ve never seen your dick before.”

“Well, I mean, you already did that one time at – ”

“That was an accident,” she giggles, “and totally your fault for leaving the door unlocked while you were changing.”

“There wasn’t a lock on the door.”

“Whatever.”

“Rule four,” Killian sighs, holding his fingers up, “is that I do not have to cook you breakfast if you spend the night.”

“No. That’s a shitty rule, KJ, and you know it! You cook me breakfast now. You can’t go back on it.”

“Alright, alright, if you insist,” he laughs as his hand reaches over toward her and curls her hair around his fingers. They’re warm and rough, and she has to admit that it’s comfortable to have him hold her hand like that. “You know, Liam is staying over at Elsa’s tonight?”

“Is he?” she asks. Emma swallows and shifts a little closer to Killian, the ocean breeze suddenly much warmer.

“He is, and he won’t be back until we open at ten.”

“So, enough time for breakfast then?”

Killian’s eyes crinkle with his laugh. “Is that going to be the only reason you come over?”

“Nah,” Emma sighs as she stands from her chair, “I also really like your dog.”

-/-

-/-

@qualitycoffeethings​ @mrtinski​ @klynn-stormz​ @scarletslippers​ @jonirobinson64​ @snowbellewells​ @therealstartraveller776​ @thejollyroger-writer​ @sherifemma​ @shardminds​ @captainsjedi​ @galaxyzxstark​ @galadriel26​ @idristardis​ @karenfrommisthaven​ @teamhook​ @spartanguard​ @searchingwardrobes​ @itsfabianadocarmo​ @jamif​ @shireness-says​ @ultimiflos​ @nikkiemms​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @onepunintendid​ @bluewildcatfanatic​ @superchocovian​ @killianswannn​ @carpedzem​ @captainkillianswanjones​ @mayquita​ @jennjenn615​ @onceuponaprincessworld​ @a-faekindagirl​ @scientificapricot​ @xellewoods​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @stahlop​ @kmomof4​ @tiganasummertree​ @singersdd​ @tornadoamy​ @cluttermind​ @lfh1226-linda​ @andiirivera​ @cluttermind​

[kstewdeux]

A Very Specific Day

A Tumblr Exclusive

@inuyasha-valentines

“So, he asked you to join him for dinner and you said yes?” Sango asked barely above a whisper as she sank into the hot spring. Despite Kagome’s belief that only Miroku spied on them, the slayer knew better. How the miko didn’t sense his aura or the noticeable, sudden rustle of leaves that occasionally occurred when Kagome exited the spring was beyond her but the miko would deny the obvious until the cows came home and then would be in denial about the cows.

“It’s a holiday,” Kagome tried to explain weakly, “Its, um, a great shame to not share that day with a romantic partner in my time.”

“So, you see Hojo as a romantic partner then,” Sango pressed as she gave the miko a skeptical look and Kagome sighed heavily.

“I mean, that’s the point of dinner. To find out if that person is someone you would want as a romantic partner,” she replied a little sadly before cringing when she saw the slayer’s skepticism increase exponentially. Huffing once and folding her arms across her chest, she snapped defensively, “Its not a crime to see what my options are, Sango.”

“I can think of someone who might disagree,” the slayer laughed softly as she settled back against the wall of the spring, “You need to tell him why you’re going home. You know he always follows you.”

“He doesn’t…”

“He does,” Sango interrupted with a soft sigh, “Even if he doesn’t tell you or even let you see him, he always does.”

“Does he really?” Kagome asked in a fascinated tone and Sango’s lips twitched upwards when she heard the rustle of leaves that signaled ‘someone’ might have arrived to ‘protect’ the girls.

“Inuyasha cares for you a great deal,” Sango commented as though she hadn’t noticed anything, “Although I know you don’t think so.”

“I mean we’re friends but he isn’t interested in being any more than that,” Kagome sighed sadly before groaning and commenting acidly, “Unlike Hojo. I mean, honestly, based on how they treat me, I think its pretty clear which one I should be trying to date. One insults me all the time. The other gives me gifts and tells me I’m pretty. Seems pretty open and shut.”

Somehow, mysteriously, although no wind was blowing whatsoever a single tree in the distance shook so heavily a cascade of leaves fell to the ground and the tree itself groaned loudly. Even more mysteriously still, the miko somehow must be either blind or deaf because she didn’t notice the ‘strange’ event.

“Does it?” Sango laughed softly as she consciously turned so the obviously spying hanyou couldn’t see any part of her. Kagome, however, was pretty much on full display.

“So, what happens on a date?” Sango asked as she decided to throw the little obviously upset spy a bone. What he did with it was his business.

“Well the boy usually picks you up at your house. You go to somewhere special. Like a nice place to eat food or you watch a, uh, show or something. Then you go home and if the evening was good you give them a kiss and that’s that. It’s, you know, courting,” Kagome tried to explain as she wrinkled her nose.

“Unchaperoned courting,” Sango corrected. Her lips twitched upwards when the tree in the distance rustled once more.

“Well yeah,” Kagome replied with a soft laugh, “Guess that doesn’t really happen here.”

“Are you going to tell Inuyasha?” Sango finally addressed the elephant in the room and Kagome sniffed pointedly.

“Its not his business,” she clipped back a little too quickly, “I’m so tired of him acting like he owns me just because I can see jewel shards. I don’t complain when he goes to see Kikyo. That’s his business and this is mine.”

“You do complain in your own way,” Sango commented knowingly and Kagome gave her friend a sour look.

“So what? I’m tired of hurting so no, I’m not going to tell him because he doesn’t care about me and I deserve someone who does,” the miko clipped back before worrying about her lip and glaring into the distance, “I just….I love him Sango and he just doesn’t love me back. I’m trying to come to terms with that, okay? If he found out he’d say something hurtful and I don’t want to deal with that right now. I want to be happy.”

A short distance away, a certain half-demon was having a heart attack, a brain aneurysm and quite possibly the stomach flu all at once. His mind and body going completely apeshit over well, literally everything he’d just heard. It didn’t start off too bad. Not great but he could’ve handled a date with that Hojo guy. She didn’t smell attracted to him at all and never really seemed interested. Unlike with Koga because even though she said she didn’t like him that way she sure didn’t smell like she minded the eye candy sometimes. Anyway,  a pity dinner with the Hojo guy was not terrible nor was it worrisome. Sure he would’ve bitched a bit about it and probably stop her from going because (1) obviously that was cruel when she was already spoken for and (2) she was spoken for. His mind had been scrambling to figure out why she had even agreed in light of number two when she started going on about how she thought he was a right asshole who didn’t give two shits about her and was still in love with Kikyo and she wasn’t happy and that….

It was a miracle his heart hadn’t given out it was beating so fast.

Swallowing thickly as he tried to remember how to breathe, he watched with wide, frightened eyes as Kagome and Sango existed the hot spring and began preparing to return.

“Oh fuck,” he breathed as he very seriously almost passed out from the shock to his system, “What am I supposed to do now?”

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Inuyasha arrived back at camp almost a full hour after the girls did. It honestly had taken him that long to calm down and try to formulate a plan. A plan that would not give away the fact that he was spying on Kagome naked and in the process thereof, overheard what she’d said.

“Inuyasha? Can I talk to you?” Kagome asked him quietly and any plan he’d managed to formulate was instantly wiped from his mind by almost blinding panic and dread.

“S-sure,” he offered as calmly as he could under the circumstances and gave her a very forced smile just for good measure. This seemed to unnerve her.

They walked a short distance away until they were almost in the trees when she began her proposal.

“I need to go back in two days,” she began calmly as she tried to meet his gaze but couldn’t quite do it. He almost asked why but then thought better of it. Asking why would most likely have her lie to him which in turn he would call out and then there’d be a fight because him hearing meant he saw her naked and it wouldn’t matter that she was lying to him because he saw her naked and….

“Okay,” he replied a neutrally as one could when they felt like their heart was breaking, “Can….may I go with you?”

Kagome blinked at him a few times before shaking her head and clearing her throat.

“I think, uh, it would be best if I go alone,” she chuckled nervously as she scratched the side of her neck, “You know those pesky homeworks aren’t going to do themselves and I have a, uh, test. I have a test.”

Inuyasha wilted miserably at the realization that she was, in fact, actively lying to him. What else was she lying about? He didn’t even want to think about that.

“I won’t bother you,” he tried softly as he tried to ignore the ice spreading through his veins, “I just…I want to spend some time with you is all.”

“Are you okay?” Kagome asked in a worried tone as her eyes began scanning his body for injury. He smiled sadly and shook his head.

“Nah I’m fine. Just…just realized something is all,” he sighed before seeming to deflate even more, “Yeah. Sure. Go ahead. Do whatever makes you happy.”

The miko’s brain was racing a million miles per second trying to figure out whether he knew she was lying or not because this type of behavior was so unlike him it was beginning to scare her. When he glanced back with a strange look in his eyes, she knew her answer. He could probably smell it on her anyway. Why did she think lying was a good idea? This wasn’t like her at all.

“Wait, Inuyasha,” Kagome called out softly as she wrung her hands and he paused – his hair blocking his face as he glanced over his shoulder, “I’m sorry. I just….I’m being courted, okay? And you usually fight me and this is a very special honor in my time to be courted on this very specific day. I wanted….I was afraid you wouldn’t let me go. I shouldn’t’ve lied.”

For a moment, he tried to digest what she’d said and tried to overcome his own hurt at the situation. Unlike Kikyo, she had never given him a reason not to trust her until now. Even in life Kikyo was constantly lying to him and his sensitive nose could always tell. It was little stupid things but even small things add up into a larger pile that’ll crush you one day. Being able to trust her word was one of the things he loved so much about Kagome.

Yeah, he loved her. Sure, he’d never said as much but dammit that didn’t make it hurt less. She lied to him. Thought it was fine to sit there and tell him that she was being courted like it honestly didn’t matter. He wanted to get angry and yell at her out of frustration but he never was good with words and he might end up just hurting his cause. No matter what she did he’d still want her. That was just how he was when he was in love apparently. She could literally try to murder him and he’d probably thank her for the privilege of dying by her hand. Case in Point: Kikyo. God he was fucking pathetic. 

But pathetic or not....this was as good a plan as any to get what he wanted.

“Its an honor to be courted on the day you want to go home?” he repeated softly as he turned to face her and hurt amber eyes searched her face. She nodded as she worried about her lip and continued to wring her hands.

“And so, you agreed to be courted to receive that honor?” he tried to clarify and Kagome shrugged as her brow knitted together in confusion. That was the weirdest sentence she’d ever heard come out of his mouth literally ever. And what was with his tone?

“Would it…” he began softly and Kagome’s hair nearly stood on end. Since when did he talk like this? Especially to her? He normally yelled or…or at least was abrasive at a minimum. He never talked softly or without cussing unless he was dying or with Kikyo. Since he wasn’t with Kikyo at the moment….what the hell was happening right now?

“Would it be an honor if anyone courted you or does it have to be that guy?” he asked politely yet nervously in what couldn’t be a hopeful tone before he cringed, sighed heavily and blurted out, “Because I could do it ya know. I…I could court you and wear different clothes and…and….”

He trailed off at the look of utter shock on her face and his insecurity got the better of him.

“Know what? Forget it. Just fucking forget I said anything. I just…”

“You want to court me?” Kagome squeaked as her eyes widened in shock and darted about trying to read his utterly humiliated expression. For a moment, he wanted to curse her out and storm off without having to explain himself but then again, she did finally seem to catch the hint that he was at a minimum interested in being with her.

“Since when do you want that?” she continued skeptically and his temper flared.

“I’ve been courting you woman but you’re apparently too fucking dumb to notice,” he countered bitterly before shaking his head and sighing when she continued to merely gape at him.

“Whatever,” he muttered under his breath and turned to head back towards  camp before Kagome rushed forward and gripped his wrist.

“Yes,” she breathed as she tugged once to get him to stop, “Yes you can court me.”

And so it was that Inuyasha and Kagome celebrated Valentine’s Day together.

[pernatius]

Lost in Space Part 12: Ch 3

Previous

Summary: The fate of the universe will be decided in the final five chapters.

Lost in Space on Tumblr

Lost in Space on ao3

Back to back, Mikrovos and Saamuki fought alongside each other against the swarm of The Speaker’s desecrated people. His gauntlets punched through their mask after mask, shattering the faceless covering of unknown substance. Their pieces brushed against the metal and pelted his face before he finished them off with a furious shock wave of energy straight to the jaw. Saamuki kept Two busy as she controlled her flying sword with one hand and decimated row after row of those mindless cloaked figures with the other. I could hear and feel their explosive movements all the way here. So I could only imagine how incredibly loud and heated their zone of nothingness actually is. However, as they still remained to face away from each other, they managed to communicate incredibly well with each other. It is as if they are reading the other’s mind. A few Watchers from either of the two outsmarted the other, disrupting their once seamless attacks. Mikrovos ducked before getting half of his head blasted away. Saamuki’s sword wheeled away from their Lord, jutting the giant’s sword out of their grip in the process, and decapitated the Watcher that was about to kill her husband. While lowered, Mikrovos stabbed the incoming Watcher that was about to take advantage of Saamuki’s distracted state. Midway through that multi-souled being falling, Saamuki’s sword came spinning through them, decapitating before she sent them to dust and once more clashing with Two’s sword. 

Five, who’s still back to the floor, clapped, causing the ground beneath their coming rock opponent to open. Again, someone falls from the sky, but unlike the last time, Sakhra’s fall is a loop of him plummeting into the first hole from the second. The no-neck Lord gets a kick out of this. Literally, after a struggle to get back up, they wobble to the repeated falling of Sakhra and kick. He is sent rolling across the floor and tumbling onto Two’s throne, which brings out the nagger of the chair’s owner. 

That’s what brings his structure to crack. His chest is splitting and outcomes a bloody cough. He wipes off the green blood from his lips before Five grabs his throat. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had to move this much, but it’s also been the most fun I’ve had in quite a while, so thank you.”

None of us can help. Three placed their ridiculously long hands behind their back. They watch Kaishi having to fight against the laser coming out of One’s reddish eye. The floor beneath her is rupturing, curving inward towards her or piercing towards the sky as One’s veiny weblike structure around their intending to slay eyeball expand and depress as they muster out their mocking. “Commander Kaishi, I’ve heard so much about you. But, after all these years, this is all you’re capable of? Pathetic.” 

Out of the three, at least Syco isn’t on edge even though he is busy trying not to get his neck snapped from Six’s fists. Six’s gold swings along with the swing of their fist. Syco dodges and sends a fist the Lord’s way. The Lord catches it, and the two of them grab each other’s second hand. Both proceed to shake as neither wishes to release the other.

As for us three, the rest of the hundred or so other Watchers who aren’t out to kill the lover duo found interest in us, so I’ve barricaded us. All four of Bichak’s eyes, his hands and book, are glowing as all seven crystals spin around him, and the ends of his coat and entire body are drifting upwards. He is whispering what I assume is a spell from the first language. With each new word, they become meshed with the previous. The healer in our group and now brawn punches through the small openings I make. So, preoccupied just like the others. When Watchers begin to climb onto the dome I created around us, I add myself to the list of people that have barked at the defeated Sakhra’s ex-brother and the once late Shiitakee’s boss. “Explain to me why those damn crystals are so important.”

At that, the roof cracks with the strike of the group of Watchers climbing above. I repair it. “Besides the copious amount of years it took to convince the Nantos to grow these after the last time they were asked to farm?” 

“Yes.”

Our brawn punches the group of Watchers thumping above. 

“These were made to capture the Lords. Saamuki figured it would be impossible to kill the Lords. She said it was a very slim possibility after being corrected by Sakhra, who then said through the little possibility that the energy that would be released would be catastrophic. So, it was Commander Kaishi that proposed we should learn from the tyrannical Knox, which Mikrovos took offense to because it was how you—”

“How I died. Got it. So, how long until those things charge?”

“This isn’t as easy as it looks. I’ve studied for days on end. This is my first time actually doing anything remotely this powerful and will hopefully be the only time I need to. I’m under a lot of pressure right now, you know?”

“I get it, but we don’t have all the time in the world. Universe. How much time do you need?”

“Five minutes.”

“A long five minutes.” On one side, the brawn grabs the faces of two of the Watchers and smashes them together. On another, I send a beam of light through four of them, then another directly at One’s eye. One once again stumbles back. Their one-eye waters. They’re blinded as Three replaces One by taking on Kaishi. The clap from them pushes Kaishi back. She pierces two blades into the floor before getting swooped any further by the heavy breeze but is slapped into the ground. 

Three lifts their hand, revealing Kaishi and her broken arm. I’m about to scream, distraught, but I notice her arm reforming first. Nanites. Of course. She stabs right through Three’s incoming hand with her healed one. The Lord plucks it out and looks down, and grunts at the satisfied commander. 

Now encircling the floating Three is a golden ball of light. I try taking down Three, but my efforts are merely met with a bounce. Kaishi steps back before my ricocheting blast can hit her. Hundreds of arms even longer than Three’s cartoonishly long arms stretch out from their light. They twist, turn, hop, and glide over the other transparent arms. She’s able to dodge most. Those she can go right through the floor and those she can’t, she tries shooting and slicing through the all too close ones. These split into two, become more arms, and continue towards her until they pause before her when her back meets Syco’s.

I want to burst out of this dome and help them, but I can’t. Those floating crystals that are taking way too long to be usable are our only shot. I can’t keep letting my impulses take the better of me because not only do I know by now that it’ll somehow just make things worse, but it also means letting all their sacrifices go in vain. I choose to believe growing up means understanding there will be times you have to do things you don’t want to do, but that doesn’t mean I can just watch. It doesn’t stop me from flinging the bits of pieces of what was once my blade at Five. They cut right through the arm that’s clinging onto Sakhra. The hand falls with a hard thud, and plenty of blood spills all over Two’s seat. I ignore Two’s reaction and instead focus on the high-pitched cry, nearly the sound a pig makes when endangered, as they try to cauterize the wound.

In contrast, Sakhra tries holding in a cough, which is challenging considering their chest is crushed even if it is repairing, but there’s something different about his healing process. I see numbers, code, squirm towards each other. They bunch up as he tries landing a hit on the pig-like Lord. 

One hand creates steam as it heats up the bloody wound, so the Lord is technically handless, yet they’re still landing hit after hit on their not-so-privileged opponent as their kicks smack across Sakhra’s arms. He’s having a tough time defending himself against the surprisingly now light on his feet Five. 

With stretched gauntlets, she’s able to keep pace with the barrage of fists and the return of One, who has returned to trying to blast with their one eye. The cyclops’ target is also Syco, who can dodge, but is now having a tough time being Six’s equal as he gets punched in the face multiple times. Things are growing dim, which isn’t entirely figurative as the green giant and I are growing tiresome, pushing off the Watchers, causing us to lose light the slower we become. At least before I’m unable to see what’s happening outside of the dome, Mikrovos and Saamuki remain to have the upper hand. Saamuki even lands a cut across Two when her sword slides across their sword after a cling. The last thing I see before the rest of the Watchers buried us is Two inspecting their wound and being shocked at their blood having been spilled. 

I’m crouching because of the weight of keeping this dome from collapsing from the immense amount of added weight. Some parts are cracking again. I reknit them, but once I do, three more pop up. The sounds of their thrashing don’t help my frustration. “Please tell me those things are done charging.”

Both the green one and I try to catch our breaths as we turn around and look at the sweating figure behind us. Bichak’s words are slurred. “Almost. One minute.”

A chunk of the dome above falls between us. It shatters once it hits the ground. A charging hand slides through the hole. I summon a shield before the Watcher can shoot. It smacks their hand out and them away from the dome. We don’t have a second before another replaces them, and we don’t have a minute because the dome’s cracks have become too much for me to fix. “I don’t think we have a minute.” 

“Fifty seconds now.” More pieces of the dome are sent falling. The now not so silent one grunts as he shields us from the falling parts. On the other hand, I shoot at the wiggling hands, pushing off the Watchers as well in a seemingly pointless attempt at buying us some time. “Forty-five seconds.”

A pesky Watcher manages to squeeze themselves through one of the widening holes. Another is trying to force itself through as the two of us stand, protecting the four-eyed annoyance and his crystals. My partner punches the Watcher straight through their gut. He then sends another punch their way, but it catches it. With those two entangled, I teleport right beside it. The beam goes right through them and a couple more lying on the other side of the wall. We work through several until the long-awaited words are spoken. 

“Done,” Bichak finally announced. He raised a hand into the air, causing the crystals to spin faster as his other hand rose above the sparking book. “I just need room.” I push the remaining dome away from us along with the Watchers around us. I then burst out some more of my energy, killing most of the Watchers around us and the duo some feet beside us. Those left stare. 

All seven of the Lords fell on their knees. Streams of rich yellow light are being pulled out of them towards the crystals. Besides Four and Seven, they questioned their weakened states as they’re easily overpowered by Sakhra, Kaishi, Syco, Mikrovos, and Saamuki. Speaking of Seven, with trembling hands, they’re slowly slipping off the chain wrapped around them. Killing all those Watchers took a lot out of me, sure, but not enough to leave me weak, helpless. I’m charging up as I look at Seven who’s eyes smile upon noticing me. My hair is floating around me as I burn with not-so heavenly light. 

“There,” One realized and pointed at the levitating man behind me. “Get him.” When the Watchers turned to the Lord then looked back at me, they stepped back. One’s eye glowed. In unison, yellow light escaped from the crevice between their faces and masks. Along with that, their awe seems to die as they dart towards us. 

“Shit,” the vegetation finally spoke. 

“Yeah.” Back to back, the two of us are preparing for the long fight ahead as the others are busy with the Lords. I’m about to shoot, and he’s about to punch when suddenly Seven gets up from their throne and removes their chain. All of us follow the swinging of their chain as it coils around One’s neck. Before One can react, electrifying energy bolts across the metal, electrocuting the Lord, incapacitating them as they fall face first. As soon as they do, Seven yanks the groaning Lord towards them. 

“Seven? What are you—” But it’s too late because Seven sucks up the rest of One, leaving not only the rest of us to stand in utter shock but for Four to slam their book close with a sneer as well. 

[kmomof4]

Merry Christmas Everyone!!!

Anyone up for some CS Christmas fluff? Well, here you go!!!

Make Me Look Good

A CS Christmas fic 

AN: This fic is inspired by the Disney Christmas Movie, Mickey’s Twice Upon a Christmas: Christmas Maximus. The song at the beginning is sung to Goofy by his son Max and it occured to me that the entire scenario in the movie could also be applied to Liam, Killian, and Emma. Thus, this fic was born. All the love to @winterbaby89​ and @profdanglaisstuff​ for beta services and to @imagnifika​ for the use of her gif in my artwork.

ao3 link

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

@hollyethecurious​ @winterbaby89​ @snowbellewells​ @stahlop​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @jennjenn615​ @kingofmyheart14​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @branlovestowrite​ @thisonesatellite​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @flslp87​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @let-it-raines​ @shireness-says​ @kymbersmith-90​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @bethacaciakay​ @searchingwardrobes​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @teamhook​ @aprilqueen84​ @qualitycoffeethings​ @superchocovian​ @artistic-writer​ @donteattheappleshook​ @doodlelolly0910​ @seriouslyhooked​ @tiganasummertree​

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

I gotta boatload of butterflies in my belly

I’m short of breath with legs of jelly

Feel like I’m floating about five feet off the ground

So I’ve got to ask for just one big favor

That my dad be on his best behavior

When he sees the two of us around

I’m gonna try to face the holidays fearlessly

And I hope he’ll do his best not to embarrass me.

Make me look good

Make me shine

If you make me look good

I just might get to make her mine

Make me look good

You have a tendency to frustrate me

Seems that you humiliate me

Every single time you get the chance.

Is it any wonder that I’m so frantic

What with all your crazy antics

Ruining all my chances for romance?

I don’t expect you to become suddenly dignified

Could you just try to prove that you are on my side

Make me look good

Make me shine

If you make me look good

I just might get to make her mine

Make me look good.

I only wanted to make a good impression

Now I must make a confession

Wish I hadn’t acted selfishly

I guess I should apologize to you

After all you filled my life with laughter

No doubt about it you’ve been so good to me.

I don’t know why I was so worried

‘Cause strange but true

You’re my one and only dad

And I’m so proud of you

You made me look good

You made me shine

You made me look so good

It looks like I’m gonna make her mine

You made me look good

Everything’s fine

You made me look so good

It looks like I’m gonna make her mine

You made me look good.

~*~*~

Liam Jones was taking one last circuit through the house, mentally checking off the list he had made when his little brother Killian had called home from college the week before.

“Liam?”

“Hey, Killy!”

“Killian! Call me Killian, Liam. Please!”

“Killian,” he acquiesced. “It’s good to hear from you, little brother.”

“Younger brother,” Killian mumbled.

“Yes, younger brother,” he agreed, “Sorry, Killian. When are you coming home for Christmas?”

“Ah,” he could almost see Killian scratching behind his ear sheepishly, “that’s what I was calling about. See, ah, I was hoping to bring someone with me.”

“Oh really,” Liam exclaimed, breaking into a wide grin of delight that he was sure his brother could hear over the miles.

Killian chuckled, “Aye, brother. Her name is Emma and she’s in my Economics class. We’ve been study partners this semester. She doesn’t have any family to go home to for the holiday. She’d be spending it here in the dorm, so I invited her to join us. I hope that’s not a problem.”

“No, of course not, Killian,” Liam laughed, “She can stay in the guest bedroom.”

He could hear Killian’s sigh of relief. “Good! Yes! Thank you!” His relief was palpable through the line. “Uhh,” he stuttered, “there’s something else, Liam. I really like her, okay? I want her to have a good time, but I also want to ask her out. And having my brother call me ‘Killy’ or ‘little brother’ isn’t exactly conducive to...”

“Say no more, brother,” he assured, “I will be on my best behavior and will do my best to make you look good in the eyes of your lady love.”

“Thank you, Liam,” Killian replied, sincerely.

After chatting for a little while longer and ascertaining the day, time, and location of their arrival, the brothers hung up.

After making sure that everything was in order for their arrival, Liam left to pick Killian and Emma up at the airport.

~*~*~

“There it is,” Emma called, just before he saw her bright yellow duffle bag come around the corner of the luggage carousel. Killian lunged for it and slung it over his shoulder before Emma had a chance to grab it herself. “So now you’re gonna be a gentleman,” she groused good naturedly, with no real heat behind her feigned annoyance.

“I’m always a gentleman, Swan,” he replied, waggling his eyebrows at her. He reached behind himself and grabbed his rolling suitcase before holding his other elbow out for her to take. She shot him a smirk and looped her arm through his.

“Killian,” a voice boomed ahead of them. “Welcome home, li- uh, brother,” he quickly corrected himself.

A parade of emotions made their way across Killian’s face. Surprise, embarrassment, and finally awkward bashfulness mixed with gratefulness settled in his visage as his cheeks and the top of his ears flamed red. “And that,” he began, “is my brother, Liam.” Emma squeezed his arm while they continued walking toward the overjoyed man.

Killian had told her all about the older brother who had raised him once his mother passed away when he was 13. Liam had just turned 22 and graduated college, so he was able to take custody of his “little” brother. She remembered the way he had rolled his eyes when he had told her. He had gone on to tell her how Liam was always there for him and made sure that he had everything he needed as he grew up, but still taught him the values of hard work, and love for family. Things that their father had taught him before he passed away when Killian was only a toddler.

Standing before Killian’s hero now, she watched as the brothers embraced warmly before two pairs of blue eyes turned to her. “Liam, I’d like you to meet,” Killian began.

“And you must be Emma,” Liam interrupted, greeting her, while grasping her hand in both of his. “It’s wonderful to finally meet the woman who helped this guy pass economics.”

Emma blushed, cutting her eyes toward Killian, who was furiously scratching behind his ear. “Oh, more like it was the other way around,” she laughed. “I couldn’t make heads or tails of supply and demand or macro versus micro economics until Killian started studying with me.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Swan,” he replied. “You helped me just as much as I helped you. If not more.”  She could get lost in his cerulean gaze if she let herself, so she bashfully ducked her head, breaking the spell.

“Well, we are very glad you were able to join us for Christmas, Emma,” Liam acknowledged, grabbing Killian’s suitcase and leading them toward the parking lot. “I’ve gathered all of Killian’s favorites,” he continued, “and he’s informed me of your penchant for hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and cinnamon.” Liam looked over at her with a grin and a wink. “So I made sure I have all the necessary ingredients.” Emma couldn’t help the wide smile that broke over her face at his revelation. She turned back to Killian, her countenance morphing into a shy smile and knocked her shoulder into his.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she protested weakly, nearly in a whisper.

“Of course I did, Swan,” he maintained, knocking his own shoulder into hers. “We wanted to make sure you felt perfectly comfortable in our home.”

“I’m sure I will. Thank you, Killian.”

Arriving at the car, Killian opened the door for Emma before depositing himself in the back for the ride home.

~*~*~

Christmas Eve had arrived.

Liam had kept his word and had done nothing to embarrass Killian in the nearly two weeks since he and Emma had arrived home for Christmas. As far as he could tell, Emma had had a good time. They had done all the touristy things that Killian hadn’t done since he’d gone on junior high field trips and Emma had never done, having never visited Boston before. Liam had saved the decorating of the tree and the exterior of the house until they arrived. The lack of snow so far this season had put a bit of a damper on the decorating, but Liam simply shrugged his shoulders and cranked up the Christmas music until Emma and Killian joined him in the very loud renditions of classic Christmas songs and carols as they worked. The evenings were filled with Christmas movies, hot chocolate and popcorn, and lots of laughter. Emma was fitting right in with him and Liam, and Killian couldn’t be happier.

Killian climbed the steps to the front porch of the house after doing some last minute Christmas shopping. Peering through the picture window into the den and the kitchen beyond he saw Emma sitting on the counter swinging her legs, while Liam stood at the stove working on their dinner. Emma was laughing at something he said and Killian smiled at the scene.

He could see the sparkle in her eyes from where he stood and his heart swelled with affection for the beautiful girl that held his heart in her hands. He was so happy to see her so happy. It had taken most of the semester to get to where their friendship stood today. She was slow to trust. Slow to let someone behind the emotional walls she had built around her heart. Being abandoned as a baby and bouncing around the foster system during your formative years would do that to you. Now that he had been privileged to see the real Emma Swan behind the strong, prickly exterior she showed most of the world, he would happily remain hers for the rest of his days. He just hoped that bringing her home, introducing her to Liam, and showing her a good time around Boston would further soften her heart toward him so that when he finally worked up the courage to ask her out, she’d agree.

The shy glances and her close proximity when they watched movies in the evening suggested that she might be interested in taking their friendship to the next level, but the thought of her possible rejection was enough to get the butterflies swirling in his belly and cause him to chicken out on more than one occasion. But on the Freedom Trail last week, Killian had seen something in a display window that he was sure would help him overcome his nerves and actually ask Emma out on a real date. The thought of her reaction had a smile lifting his lips as he opened the door to the house.

Laughter and the smell of apples and cinnamon tickled his senses as he made his way into the house. Removing his coat, scarf, and hat, he hung them on the coat tree in the foyer and made his way into the kitchen. “Did you find what you were looking for, brother?” Liam asked, turning away from where the hot wassail punch was simmering.

“Yes, I did,” he began, turning his eyes on Emma and waggling his brows at her. A grin split her face as she hopped down off the island and made a beeline for where he stood.

“Did you get something for me,” she exclaimed, reaching for his arms as he spun out of her grasp.

“Maybe,” he replied, laughing at her playful reaches and grabs for him as he stayed just out of her reach. He led her on a merry chase around the kitchen and the sofa in the den before he nearly collided with Liam, slowing him down enough that Emma was able to tackle him, landing on top of him as he hit the floor with an “oof.” The twinkling lights from the decorated tree projected a warm halo on her porcelain skin as he stared into her eyes. Her lips parted into a soft O as she stared right back at him. Killian was spellbound as laughter was replaced by awareness in their emerald depths. Without even realizing it, his hand tangled in her golden locks as her head lowered towards his and eyelids fluttered closed in anticipation when a sharp clearing of a throat broke the spell they were under.

They both startled and turned toward Liam who was settling himself down in his favorite chair. “Maybe if we turn on White Christmas, it’ll snow,” he groused, glancing speculatively in their direction.

Emma scrambled off him and dusted herself off avoiding his eyes as he turned toward Liam who just shrugged his shoulders and grinned, not looking sorry in the least. Killian’s cheeks and ears flamed at the thought of what might have happened if Liam hadn’t interrupted. The look in her eyes, the openness, the vulnerability, took his breath away. All he had wanted to do this semester was to be her friend, get behind her walls and get her to open up to him. And now, the trust and affection he saw in her eyes made it all worthwhile.

Emma had settled on one side of the sofa and given the nerves that he could feel rolling off her, he took the opposite end. She turned apologetic eyes toward him as he got himself settled and Liam pulled up the movie. Killian shot her a reassuring smirk before deciding that White Christmas needed wassail punch and popcorn.

When he arrived back with their snacks, he sat more toward the middle of the sofa instead of the end. Settling back into the cushions, he placed his arm across the back of the sofa and could just touch her shoulder with her hair cascading over his arm. As the movie progressed, Emma inched closer to him, until by the time the General was entering the dining room for his Christmas surprise, she was fully snuggled into his side, with his arm around her shoulders. The peace and contentment of Christmas washed over him as he held the girl he loved in his arms and gazed out the picture window the tree was partially obscuring. Fat, soft flakes were drifting down from the sky. It was already accumulating on the ground. A grin broke out on his face as he squeezed Emma’s shoulders and brought her attention to the falling snow.

“It’s finally snowing!” Liam exclaimed, jumping to his feet and heading for the front door. “Looks like my plan worked!” He turned toward the couple on the sofa. “Coming?” he asked.

Killian looked down at Emma. Her face was radiant as she shook her head. “We’ll be out once the movie’s over.” The opening strands of “White Christmas” with the entire cast was just beginning. Liam bundled up and headed out into the winter wonderland.

Bob Wallace was opening his knight on a white charger from Betty when Killian reached in his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. Emma’s eyes widened in surprise as he whispered “Merry Christmas, Swan.”

“But I didn’t get you anything,” she protested.

“I’m not worried about that, Swan. Your friendship and having you here for Christmas is enough of a present. Open it,” he urged, nodding at the box.

Emma opened the box and gasped. Inside lay a silver teardrop pendant shaped like a swan, and embellished with small crystals and one flawless freshwater pearl.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed, ”Help me put it on.” She turned away from him and pulled her hair over her shoulder. He pulled the pendant out of the box and situated it before engaging the clasp at the nape of her neck. She turned her face toward the necklace and held it up to get a better look at it. “You shouldn’t have, you know,” she murmured.

“I know, Swan,” he replied. “Don’t worry. I got a good deal on it. When I saw it, it made me think of you and I wanted you to have it.” He stared into her eyes as she looked at him, willing her to see everything in his heart he was trying to convey to her.

She tilted her head up and drew him down to her as her lips just barely brushed his. “Thank you, Killian. I’ll treasure it always.” Her forehead rested against his as he drew her closer and captured her mouth in a much more passionate slide of lips then the earlier kiss had been. His tongue delved and tangled with hers as she gave as good as she got. When they finally broke for air, they both fought to catch their breath.

“That was…” Killian murmured.

“Definitely not a one time thing,” she quipped. “Merry Christmas, Killian,” she sighed, her face breaking into a radiant smile that literally took what little breath he had away.

“Merry Christmas, Swan,” he agreed, before taking her lips again.

Fin

Merry Christmas everyone! I hope you enjoyed the fluff!

[ajoraverse]

This is an excerpt from the other thing I’ve been working on and can’t post yet because I intend to illustrate it. Faris/Lenna, long-established relationship between people who absolutely should not be in said relationship, mentions of sexytimes but I’ve cut the worst of it out for posting to tumblr. Follow-up to A Criminal Enterprise.

Friendly reminder, too, that Faris is a known criminal and elected leader of hundreds of pirates and other ne’er-do-wells for five years before the game and, in her introduction in the game, actually kidnaps and holds the party for ransom until she decides to help them.

Warning for inc*st between consenting adults who did not grow up together, mentions of gender dysphoria with a technically nonbinary character who is afab and then forced by circumstances to live as a boy for 15 years on ships where women were forbidden, and a bit of playfulness that would be really, really disconcerting in the blatant-abuse-of-power way if they weren’t technically equals in the eye of the law. As is, it’s still a bit dodgy, but Lenna is such a sweetheart that she would never.

(Context note: In a mad dash to cope with the loss of Galuf and the crystals to ExDeath, and deal with their own messy feelings, Faris and Lenna jumped the gun and went and got married in Moore just after the events in A Criminal Enterprise  In secret and under assumed names, of course. This is 15 years later.)

Lenna's grip on Faris eases as she relaxes in the afterglow and watches her clean up with all the satiation of her own dragon after a good meal. She looks like she wants to curl up and go to sleep, but Faris knows her crafty little sister well enough to know she'll want her turn at topping as soon as she's recovered. Faris stays where she is, on her elbows and knees over her wife, because one of those things Lenna never seems to tire of is this closeness of theirs.

Soft, warm lips brush over Faris' moments later as Lenna's arms hold her close again. It's not a kiss, not quite. "I love you so much," Lenna's voice is little more than a whisper.

"Love you, too." In emphasis, Faris closes what little distance remains between their lips. The kiss starts as warm and flares to a driving heat so quickly that it might have made her head spin. She's aware, vaguely, that Lenna's hands trail down her back before leaving her entirely to do... whatever. Her focus is more on the depth of the kiss and the way Lenna knows just how to respond to her motions in just the right way to revive her arousal.

The delicate hands of a queen grasp at Faris' shoulders, and she can feel Lenna squirming beneath her. Not that she minds, for Lenna always feels fantastic rubbing up against her like that.

Then, suddenly, the world goes awhirl as Lenna somehow manages to roll her off and climb on top of her. Before Faris can even fully register it, Lenna grabs her wrists, yanks them up over her head, and wraps them up in a length of...wait, is that the fuckin' girdle?! The little minx, she'd planned this. Faris can't help it, her face splits into a broad grin of delight. Somehow or another, Lenna always manages to surprise her.

"Like that, Captain?" There's more than a bit of impishness in Lenna's fond smile as she straddles her sister. Lenna is such a lovely figure in her glittering jewels and sitting on Faris' hips like this that her mouth feels dry.

It takes Faris a moment to gather herself. Lenna's fingers rest at her belt buckle, an unvoiced question in the way they almost curl around it. Faris' moods regarding her own nakedness are fickle at best--sometimes she doesn't mind it, sometimes she likes it because Lenna does, sometimes she hates it and can't figure out why. And before Lenna, it hadn't been an issue because her past conquests were content with taking and not reciprocating. But it's her Lenna wants, completely, chronic gender confusion and all. Faris wonders sometimes what the hell she did to deserve Lenna's love and devotion.

She nods once. Just enough for that sweet little smile of gratitude to light up Lenna's face and tug at Faris' heart.

Those nimble, skilled fingers unbuckle her belt with a fluid quickness that comes from long practice and puts it aside. They tease along the buttons of her greatcoat before slipping them under their eyes, and Lenna does it at a languid pace that's more about committing all this to memory than the wicked teasing that Faris likes to do.

Lenna's eyes as she daintily pries open Faris' clothes are so tender and wanting that Faris is sure she deserves none of it. Rather than be repulsed by old battle scars, Lenna traces them. Rather than be disgusted by the muscle Faris has been putting on since her access to decent food became a nonissue, Lenna admires them and fondles them in a way that makes Faris forget entirely about the mess in her head. Rather than be frustrated when Faris' chest-binding for too long results in her breasts being too tender or too numb, Lenna watches the way Faris reacts to her touch and proceeds when she's sure she's not causing any pain.

"It's okay," Faris whispers as Lenna's fingers hover hesitantly over her chest. "Didn't do much binding today. I'm good."

Rather than respond verbally, Lenna gives her that wry little smile she makes when she's trying not to be selfish and failing. It's refreshing to see, if just because Lenna tries so hard to live up to her flawless virgin front that she feels like she can only be herself around Faris and their friends. The way Lenna's hands fondle and squeeze against what muscles she does have is downright possessive, and Faris is glad she gets to be the only one Lenna shows that side of herself to.

With a wicked chuckle, Faris tightens her abs right under Lenna's hands. It makes Lenna lose control of that smile of hers and her eyes might have twinkled. "Naughty girl," she says under her breath, in a tone that's something on the order of fondness lightly sprinkled with amusement. "If I'd known you liked that, I might've tried working harder earlier on."

"Me, naughty?" Lenna tries to play the innocent, but the attempt fails in light of the way her hands caress along Faris' sides. "I'm not the criminal here."

Faris can't help it; she laughs. Softly, of course; she's always conscious of the guards posted outside the door. Part of it is the clash of the Lenna she knows against her public figure, which is just as hilarious now as it was when Lenna proclaimed herself the Virgin Queen of Tycoon at her coronation. Part of it is that they are terrible at play-acting in bed, and she knows where this is going. Still, she's happy to go along. "And what would Your Majesty's subjects think of you detaining a criminal in your bed?"

"Why, they might thank me." Lenna's eyes dance with poorly-suppressed mirth. "Don't think I haven't kept track, sister dear. I have entire files on your activities."

Only the fact that Faris knows that nothing comes of it but a bit of play makes her so willing to go along with this. She'd balk otherwise. "Do you?"

"Arson, six counts," Lenna begins lightly, her fingers tracing along Faris' scars in a way that's much more loving than the playfulness she expects. "Bribery, fifteen counts. Burglary, thirty-seven. Extortion, eighteen. Fraud, various, twenty-three. Piracy, forty-seven. Smuggling, forty-two. Theft, various, sixty-eight. And that's just the crimes against property. Let's not forget assault and battery, intimidation, kidnapping, false imprisonment...the list does get exhaustive. My goodness, Faris, you've been busy."

Well, Lenna's numbers might be a bit low, but far be it for Faris to correct her. Still, she'll have to commend Lenna's spies on their thoroughness. Her smile softens as she reaches between them to skim her knuckles lightly against the silken smoothness of Lenna's inner thigh. It's a bit tricky, what with her wrists being bound together. "Don't forget this."

"Uncountable." Lenna shifts on her knees in a way that reminds her that she'll have to take the trousers with her. The heat radiating from her sister makes her sorely tempted to take charge again. But, this is Lenna's turn. That it happens so quickly does make Faris wonder if this sin of theirs has become another of Lenna's guilty pleasures. "Fifteen years' worth."

"And decades more, if I've anything to say about it." Faris' voice might have gotten a little husky--she seldom apologized for anything, and certainly never anything done out of need, but she'll never feel guilty or apologize for this. Not when Lenna is such an enthusiastic partner in crime.

"See? You're incorrigible," Lenna says teasingly. "The only solution is to keep you tied up nice and safe in bed. It's for the public good."

"Just the public good?" Faris jerks her hips up enough to bounce Lenna a little. The delighted "oooh" and a light giggle are awfully gratifying. "What's my sentence, my Queen?"

The neatly-trimmed nails drum lightly on Faris' midriff as Lenna makes a show of thinking on the matter. "Normally the sentence for such an extensive history is life in prison, but I could be convinced to commute it to, oh, a few years of time in my bed."

Faris never actually worries, of course. Part of the reward for saving the world, and the privilege of being the long-lost princess, was having her past records officially expunged. At least in Tycoon. There's probably still a warrant out for her arrest in Jacole. "And how might I do that?"

"I want you to come for me, dear heart." Lenna's hands settle over hers. Probably as much to keep her from going straight for her treasure as it is to reassure her. "You're always so giving. I love that you are, but I want to please you, too."

Admittedly, it took Faris a long time to get used to being vulnerable around anyone. Longer still to let her eager little sister reciprocate without second-guessing herself or feeling inordinately self-conscious, and the only reason it hadn't taken even longer was because Lenna is just as stubborn as she is and a hell of a lot gentler about it. It helped, too, that Lenna never makes it about how "gorgeous" Faris is; all she ever seems to want is to love Faris back.

With a sigh, Faris mentally kicks that selfish little bit of her that would rather not give in to Lenna's desire for her just because some crotchety old pirates messed up her head about genders and forced her to be a boy when she was a kid. At least it's a lot quieter now than it used to be. She eases back into Lenna's too-comfortable bed and manages a hint of a smile. "I'll need some help with my trousers. Seems I'm a tad tied up at the moment."

Despite Lenna's attempt to bite back the snort of amusement, it comes out anyway.

[petermorwood]

Beat to Quarters is a damn good Tumblr blog (and “Master And Commander” is one of my favourite films) but in a post containing so much useful information, ending it like this...

“...with the palm facing inwards ... A tradition that can still be found today in every army and navy.” (Emphasis mine.)

...is, um, how can I best put it?

Wrong.

Here’s a French salute alongside a US one.

Here’s a British Army salute alongside a US one.

Here’s a British Royal Air Force salute.

(Personal bit: in my day (mid-late 1970s) it was “fingertips meet cap where peak meets band,” not “fingertips stop an inch short of cap”. Drills do change, yet to me this photo looks like the salute was captured an instant before completion. And what happened to “at the position of attention, the heels are brought together...”?)

Here’s a British Royal Navy salute.

And here’s Army and Royal Navy side by side for comparison:

There are variations among regiments in the army because of Tradition, and indeed variations because of headgear since a beret / sidecap / service cap of the same unit will all sit differently.

Speaking of headgear, here’s a questionable British Army salute from fiction...

...and its completely incorrect response.

Watson is out of uniform, so I wonder if the uniformed soldier should have saluted him in the first place, rather than “braced up” (come to attention) when he read the ID card and saw the rank of its bearer.

Watson certainly shouldn’t have returned any salute he was given.

Okay, a uniformed eager-beaver noncom (the soldier was IIRC a corporal) might have forgotten protocol and saluted, especially during an “unscheduled snap inspection”(it’s always better to salute when not needed and get a correction, than not salute when needed and get a bollocking) but a captain in civvies should have known better than to respond.

Not sure what he’s doing with his thumb, either. “Hand palm-out and flat” means exactly that.

*****

ETA: Yes, the uniformed soldier in headdress was correct in giving a salute once he became aware of Watson’s rank. 

No, Watson bareheaded in civilian clothes should not have returned the salute, and instead should have braced up in acknowledgement, as he did to Sherlock’s headstone. 

*****

Of course some regiments, because of Tradition, do have the privilege of saluting bare-headed, or talking through the National Anthem, or wearing headgear indoors, or (insert apparent gross breach of protocol here).

It usually originates with some Notable Incident in the regiment’s history, but whatever Tradition might allow that regiment to do, the activity is NOT standard practice throughout the Army and the regiment would be outraged if anyone suggested it should be.

“That lot (everyone not us) were nowhere in sight when we (insert Notable Incident here)...”

Unique is unique.

*****

Side-note: there’s no such thing as a “British Royal Army”. It was originally the New Model Army of Cromwell, and its association with the people who cut off Charles I’s head meant that Charles II and his successors right up to Charles III have never granted the “Royal” honorific to the entire service, only to individual regiments and units: Royal Engineers, Royal Horse Artillery, Royal Tank Regiment etc.

*****

On the other hand (hah!) here’s an Irish Army salute.

A Russian Army salute.

A German Army salute, new style...

...and old style (mostly).

The odd-man-out is SS, not army, and that raised-arm gesture is political, the Nazi Party salute. It wasn’t a military requirement until after the army’s 1944 attempt to kill Hitler, when it became compulsory.

The Polish salute doesn’t use any form of flat hand at all.

And finally there’s this...

The yeast in those bottles isn’t saluting, just waving bye-bye; however the wine-maker may well be acknowledging their service, and why not?

Courtesy of @dduane​, Doctor Who did it too.

:->

Saluting an Officer

Normally, respect was paid to the superior officer by briefly raising the hat of the subordinate. This custom also existed on land, where the Man raised his hat briefly to pay his respects.

When the King or Captain General is being saluted, each Officer is to time his salute so as to pull off his hat when the person he salutes is almost opposite him. . - New Art of War, 1740

‘The Prince of Wales’ Squadron’, 1648 (x) 

Now at sea one did not always wear a hat and the fear of mutinies was a constant companion, so in the 17th century, if not earlier, the custom was introduced that the saluting officer, whenever the said superior officer was within his reach, would bring the knuckles of his right hand to his forehead and salute with a “Sir”. In this way he showed that he was unarmed and at the same time paid his respect to the officer. By the way, if one wore a hat, the brim of it was touched. This was not only done as a greeting but also to confirm an order (like to say “aye “ as confirmation) or to say goodbye. In short, it is a gesture of respect towards one’s superior. 

1st Lieutenant Pullings confirms Captain Aubrey’s order and at the same time takes his leave to carry out his duties.

This changed over time, especially in the 19th century, to an outstretched hand to the forehead, but with the palm facing inwards, to avoid confronting the superior officer with a hand that was dirty from working with rope, tar or anything else. A tradition that can still be found today in every army and navy. 

[mottski]

t update, 1.5 months!

the long ramble will be under a readmore but the gist:

-i’m growin a lil creeper stache and i’m not sure what to do with it yet. all the rest of my face hairs are still too transparent to notice but the wee creeper stache is comin in dark enough that my brain keeps going “THERE’S SOMETHING ON YOUR FACE” every time i glance in the mirror

-my voice is so deep yall i think it might wind up deeper than my cis coworkers

-HAIR! MUCH HAIR. it wasn’t super noticeable until recently and then i was changing and was like “oh hey stomach hair, nice.” 

-since i’ve moved to my leg, the shots have been so much easier. idk why my stomach was a Real Bad Zone but i’ve had like 0 issues and even on the times i don’t ice the spot enough and it stings a bit, my brain doesn’t flip shit. 

-on the down side, it itches on my leg more and i wind up with shot location bruises a lot. worth it tho

-getting a blood test tomorro to check my T levels (and also to check if my thyroid is, you know, as failing as it looked on my last blood test. so that’s...fun...)

-i’m being read consistently as male now by strangers, probs cause of the voice first and creeper stache second

-i’ve absolutely gained hella muscle thanks to my job. who knew lifting car batteries on T would give u thicc arms and shoulders. shocking. 

-my doctor was impressed at how much muscle i’ve gained :D

-racist coworker, i think, has some internalized transphobia issues as well (to no one’s surprise). he correctly genders me when no one is around, but the second there’s another person in the room he gives off this vibe of being extremely uncomfortable with identifying me as being the same gender he is. i don’t think it’s even a conscious thing, honestly. what sucks tho is that it immediately outs me. i have a tiny stache and my voice is super deep. i’m read as male. i sound male. if he calls me ‘she’ there’s no goddamn way around it for the poor awkward customer now stuck in a situation of realizing 1: this employee is definitely a guy, 2: why is that coworker calling him she, 3: oh right trans people exist, 4: THIS IS AWKWARD DO I CORRECT HIM OR WHAT

-related, i had a grandma age lady FIRMLY CORRECT that coworker by HEAVILY EMPHASIZING her use of ‘he’ towards me

-on the down side, coworker had misgendered me earlier that day and the customer went ABOVE AND BEYOND to emphasize ‘she’ in his sentences despite me having, yknow. creeper stache. low voice. visibly uncomfortable. 

-if he keeps doing it, i’ll talk to my manager cause that’s shitty af and legitimately unsafe for me if he outs me to the wrong person

-straight up tho T is making me gayer than i thought. like i’ve always been some weird mix of a- and bi- romantic but wew lads. also heh “straight up” nothing about me is straight. nothing.

and now, a ramble

so like, here’s the deal. i joined tumblr in early 2013 and the Hot Discourse of the Day was trans men. specifically people (transphobes and terfs, but i didn’t know that then) saying that trans men were either women who wanted a taste of male privilege or were shitty nasty traitors to women. i saw blogs be attacked for disagreeing. i saw people being called misogynistic women haters for disagreeing. it was some real shit. then after that, although it’s now starting to fade, was the years of “men are literally horrible evil monsters” Discourse. 

i’ve...always been very, very prone to absorbing (shitty) peer opinions and caving to them. i’m working on it. it’s a process. it’s kinda one of those need to fit in things where i just...agree with and absorb the views i’m seeing so that i can be one of the Cool Kids. not that it ever works but that’s what my brain tries to do.

...so when i first realized i was trans, i stuck with words like agender, nonbinary. then transmasculine. anything to like...avoid having to be the shitty nasty traitor monster. to this very second actually claiming that i might maybe be a trans man makes my brain go “BUT THAT’S A BAD THING YOU CAN’T.” to this very second.

i’m out at work as a trans man, i’m comfortable IRL being read as a man, but that’s not tumblr, is it. i’ll always be Vaguely Nonbinary but in my gut, i know i’m a trans man. i know it. i still haven’t fully 100% owned that yet though because tumblr’s attitude towards trans men has forced me deeper and deeper into the closet over the course of, what is it now, 5 years? that bullshit on this site is incredibly toxic. i’ve realized that now, in the past six months, which is good.

...undoing five years of absorbing that toxic attitude, though, is gonna be a real long haul.

so, anyway, i think i’ve now identified as everything but the I in the LGBT+ acronym and tumblr is fucking stupid

[ri-writing]

Cassian Andor and the No Good, Very Bad Day

Title: Cassian Andor and the No Good, Very Bad Day Rating: PG?  Mild cursing, and Cassian kills someone Summary: Cassian isn't sure what he did to deserve this punishment, but ultimately, it doesn't matter.  He'll follow orders – even if they are to bring General Cracken's teenage son with him on a mission to purchase a datacard.  At least it's Taanab.  What could go wrong on Taanab? Disclaimer: I have been ficcing it for 20 years, but I still own nothing.

Note - I wrote this originally in December 2016.  I wasn’t planning on really sharing it - it was meant to be me getting Feels out of my system - but there hasn’t been as much R1 stuff on Tumblr lately and that makes me sad.  So this is me trying to add at least one other R1 post to the Tumblr verse.

(Oh, and I really am going to finish that Jyn, Bodhi, and Mon fic.  Promise.)

Dramatis Personae: General Airen Cracken (Alliance Intelligence) Captain Cassian Andor (Alliance Intelligence) Talon Karrde (Smuggler and Information Broker for Car'das organization) Pash Cracken (15 year old kid) Wes Janson (16 year old kid) Approx. 1 BBY Despite what Cracken said, Cassian Andor knew he was being punished for something.  No one was assigned a babysitting mission when they were doing quality work.  He mentally ran through the past few months, but found not one thing that Cracken could realistically take issue with.   He was given jobs.  He got them done.  The Alliance received what they needed.  Open and closed.   And yet, Cassian could find no other rational for being told to take a kid with him than babysitting mission.   Of course it was a babysitting mission, he told himself.  They were on Taanab.  The world was hardly a hotbed of useful information, unless one was particularly excited on the growing conditions of turnips.  Meeting an information broker on this type of world was the sort of thing that not even Cracken's greenest recruit could mess up. Behind him, he heard a crash and shut his eyes.  Correction.  Not even Cracken's greenest recruit could mess it up – unless that recruit was Cracken's own son.  If they didn't look so similar, Cassian would have sworn they could not possibly be related. 

Why Cracken insisted the boy accompany him was beyond Cassian.  The only explanation Cracken gave was: “Pash needs experience.”  Roughly translated, that meant Cracken saw some sort of potential in his son as an intelligence operative. Cassian was quite sure that was wishful thinking on the general's part. Anyone with even the slightest bit of common sense could tell that Pash Cracken would make a terrible spy.  He was hardly the sort who could make himself look forgettable – lanky and awkward, with bright red hair sticking out in several directions, a face full of freckles, and clothes that were just a bit too baggy.  He also had all of no stealth ability.  His track record in the fifteen minutes they'd been off the speeder bus spoke for itself - the kid had managed to knock over three fruit stands and trip over his own feet so many times that Cassian lost count.  How he was going to get the kid through the open air market that lay between him and the meet point for Cracken's contact was a whole other problem.   Steeling himself, he turned to survey the latest round of damage.  Pash was scrambling to collect some sort of bright pink fruit and trying to return it to a stand in front of a grocer.  Nothing looked permanently harmed.  It probably could have been worse.  Probably.  He briefly debated sending the kid back to the speeder bus depot to wait for him.   Tempting as it was, he suspected it would only result in being demoted even further in Cracken's opinion.  The only thing that could be worse than being demoted to babysitting a child and going on a joke of an assignment was having no assignment at all. He'd given up too much for the rebellion to let Pash Cracken be the end of his Intelligence career. “Sorry.”  The kid returned the last of the fruit to the stand, then hurried over to where he was waiting. Cassian gave him a long look, considered ten different ways to chew him out from here until next Sunday, and swallowed all of them.  “We're late.”  He turned back towards the street.  “Don't touch anything else.” Pash fell into step beside him and dutifully shoved his hands in his pockets as if to say See?  Cannot touch.  “Is there anything I should be doing?” “Not touching anything,” Cassian reminded him. “Anything else?”  Pash asked hopefully.  “Is there anyone I'm supposed to look out for?  Suspicious people?  Contacts?” “No.” He turned into the market and prayed to whatever Taanabian deities existed that this would all be over soon. “Should I count red shirts?”  Pash added. Don't ask, Andor.  You don't want to know the answer.  Despite his better judgment, he heard himself do the exact thing he'd decided against half a heartbeat earlier.  “Red shirts?” “Dad says you should always pay attention to your surroundings.  We play this game where we walk through a crowd and, when we're on the other side, I have to tell him how many red shirts I see,” Pash explained, as if these sorts of behaviors were normal father-son bonding activities.  “Sometimes, he changes the color, so I can't get away with planning for the questions in advance.  When we're around pilots, it can also be helmets.” He was right.  He hadn't wanted to know.  “You don't have to count shirts.” “Do you have another lesson I'm supposed to work on?”  Pash asked. “No.” “Captain Andor?”  Pash asked as they began to cut across the market. What could the kid possibly want to ask him now?  Cassian was sure they'd depleted all possible sources of questions.  He suppressed a sigh.  “Yes?” “Dad said we're picking up some information about Imperial shipments from someone who works for Jorj Car'das.”  Pash said. Cassian's shoulders tensed.  Why not announce it to the entire planet? At least, he reminded himself, no one on Taanab cared what they were doing.  He'd seen all of three stormtroopers since landing.  All three were lazily resting with planetary control officers at customs checkpoints in the spaceport.  Even the Empire knew there was nothing of use to the Rebellion on Taanab.  Nonetheless, it was stupid to tempt fate.  Cassian ground his teeth together and made a mental note to explain how the galaxy worked to Pash Cracken once they were back on base.  “Yes.” “That doesn't make any sense.”  Pash frowned.   “Car'das – he's got connections to the Empire.  What's to stop him from selling us out?  They'd know what shipments we'd be targeting, and could set a trap.  You don't actually trust him, do you?” Cassian could count the people he trusted on one hand without using all his fingers – and even one of those people was a droid.  “Of course not.” “So then why....oh.”  Pash said as they came to a stop outside an old building bearing the sign Ye Olde Ale Hall.  “You're counting on Car'das selling us out.”  He looked thoughtful as he worked through it.  “The Imperials will be looking for a raid at the wrong places, meaning it'll be easier to go after a different target.” He had to hand it to the kid.  He'd started seeing different ways information could be used.  Cassian nodded once.  “Something like that. Now, listen.  You.”  He gestured at Pash, “Are going to wait here.  I'm going to go in and talk with this contact.” Pash pouted, looking even younger than his fifteen years.  “Why can't I come?” Because my orders didn't say you had to meet Car'das, and I can't trust you not to blow this.  “Because I told you to wait here.”  He stuck the boy with a look.  “I could have told you to wait at the depot.” Pash sighed in what Cassian defined as 'that privileged obnoxious teenager way,' but leaned against the side of the building and got comfortable. “And don't talk to anyone.”  Cassian added. “You won't let me do anything, so no chance of that happening,” Pash muttered under his breath.  He crossed his arms against his chest, but stayed put. For half a heartbeat, he wondered if keeping the kid outside was safest.  He didn't know what was happening inside, but, if he brought Pash with him, at least he could put himself between danger and the child that he was supposed to ensure did not die.  At the same time, he also wasn't sure what to expect from anyone associated with Jorj Car'das.  A man did not get a reputation for brutality for no reason, and that sort of man would value others who shared his opinions on those types of topics.  Cassian took one last look around the small central city.  There were mothers pushing strollers, people buying vegetables, and a teenage boy trying to impress a group of girls by a nearby fountain.  Not exactly a war zone.  It's Taanab.  He reminded himself.  How much trouble can one teenager get into in a farmer's market on Taanab?  “Stay here.”  He repeated as he ducked inside the door. He'd expected some sort of hole in the wall or seedy bar.  Instead, he found a sparsely populated, halfway decent restaurant.  A few nicely dressed Bothans were holding some sort of business meeting over a meal in one corner.  A young couple appeared to have opted for an afternoon caf as a first date, while a man with thick black hair and a shirt that likely cost more than Cassian's entire life perused a wine list at the bar.   A woman in a waitress uniform had even taken up residence at a large table inside the door and appeared to be doing schoolwork.   For the first time in a long time, Cassian found he didn't belong.   How, he wondered, had no one bothered to include this information in his orders?  While he should have known that anything safe enough for Cracken's son to tag along on wouldn't be the sorts of places he normally frequented, someone should have warned him to at least bring a jacket that didn't look like it had been to a war zone. “Ah.”  The man with the wine list laid it down on the counter.  “Something tells me you're looking for me.” Cassian nodded.  “If you're waiting for Schopf.”   “I was.”  The man gave him a thin smile, then asked conversationally, “Will he be joining us?” “Unfortunately, he won't be able to make it.”  It was, after all, quite difficult to make a meeting when you're dead.  Another good man.   Another mission incomplete. “I'm sorry to hear that.”  The man did look sorry.  “He had a rare appreciation for good food.”  He pushed the wine list across the bar and fixed his full attention on Cassian.   “So.”  This time, the man's smile carried all the way up to his ice blue eyes, “What can Jorj Car'das do for you?” There was no way this man was Car'das.  He was too young – at most, only a few years older than Cassian.  A lackey, then.  He wasn't sure if that was better or worse.  It didn't matter; his personal feelings on the issue weren't important.  “I understand you have shipping records.” “Ah.   Yes.”  The man motioned to the bartender to pour him a glass from the bottle she was holding.  “Do you enjoy wine, Mr. …?” “Not particularly.”  Cassian replied. “That's a shame.  They have a local variety on world that is quite good.”  The man watched him carefully.  When Cassian didn't react, he shook his head slightly, as if disappointed.  “Well then.  Shipping.” Shipping schedules for Imperial supply freighters.  “Yes.” “I hear it's a booming market out there these days.”  The man picked up his wine glass and sniffed at it as if they were in a vineyard tasting room and not a building alongside a street market.  “Cargoes going everywhere, comprised of every sort of thing imaginable.” “So I've heard.”  Cassian agreed. He tasted the wine and smiled slightly.  “Good vintage.”  He set the glass on the edge of the bar and gave Cassian his full attention once more.  “Well then, down to business.  I'm afraid I'll have to ask for cash.  Car'das is a bit behind the times and refuses to deal with accounts.”   “Cash is fine.”  Cash didn't leave a paper trail.   Cassian couldn't imagine anyone would be stupid enough to pay by account – especially since that account information could easily be sold to the highest bidder.  “Assuming you've got what was promised Schopf.” “If I didn't, I wouldn't be a very good businessman.”  He smiled again.  “You can't honestly think we're all savages.” Businessmen.  Was that what they were calling themselves these days? Before he had a chance to respond, his contact's comlink chirped.  The man gave him an apologetic look, murmured, “Excuse me one moment,” and motioned for Cassian to check out the datacard before directing his attention to the comlink. “Go ahead.” Cassian pulled his datapad out and slid the card into it.  Pages of dates, shipment numbers, and freighter IDs sprung to life.  He pretended to inspect it as he tried to catch what he could of the conversation. “And what sort of shape are they in?”  Car'das' man asked.  Cassian strained his ears to try to catch the other voice, but the comlink's sound was turned down just low enough that, to anyone even slightly outside the range, it sounded like nothing but a garbled mess.  “Ah.  Yes, I'm interested.”  The man said softly.  “Tell Ms. Hallik I'm finishing up with a client, but I'd like to meet her and see if we could do business.  Say – an hour?  Thank you.”  Stowing the comlink, he turned back to Cassian.  “Sorry about that.  One of my colleagues stumbled upon a potentially profitable deal.  I trust the datacards are acceptable.” He couldn't see anything wrong with them.  The information certainly looked legit.  Cassian nodded and handed the stack of credits over to Schopf's contact. The man smiled genteelly as he pocketed the money.  “A pleasure.  If you'll excuse me?” Yes, go find a new home for whatever spice or guns someone wants to sell you.  Cassian nodded at him.  He withdrew the datacard from his datapad and stashed it in an inner pocket to his coat.   “Oh,” the man laid a few cred chips on the bar to cover his tab, “One more thing, Captain Andor.  If you're interested in doing business in the future, just contact the owner of this establishment and ask her to put you in touch with Sabacc.  She'll be able to arrange whatever meetings are necessary.” Cassian blinked.  His mind tried to put the pieces together – tried to figure out how Sabacc (what kind of a name was Sabacc anyway?) knew the first thing about him – and reached two potential solutions: either Schopf had mentioned him (possible) or there was a mole in Alliance Intelligence (something he did not want to consider but now had to).  His potential new contact smiled once more as he slid his hands into his pockets and walked towards the door.   Cassian had half a mind to tail the man before he remembered the flaw in that plan.  It was going to be impossible to tail anyone with Pash Cracken tagging along.  He sighed to himself, then pushed away from the bar.  Finding out more about Sabacc-the-man would have to wait.  At least, he told himself as he crossed the restaurant once more, the mission was technically a success.  He had the information.  No one had died.  He wasn't sitting in an infirmary somewhere.  All things considered, it was better than most of the things he did for the Alliance. He blinked in the sudden brightness of the sun as he stepped outside and turned towards where he left Pash.  The wall the kid been holding up earlier was now standing just fine on its own.  Damn.  What part of stay here had been that hard to understand?  Cassian spotted the kid a moment later, standing by a nearby vegetable vendor with the boy from the fountain as they poured over a magazine.  The boys' eyes were wide as they stared at the images. Pathetic.  The Galaxy's Worst Spy could not only not understand the concept of orders, but was easily distracted by a skin magazine.  Cassian strolled towards the kids.  The other boy pointed at something in the magazine they held between them, and Pash nodded enthusiastically.  Cassian snatched it from their hands.  Rolling it up, he glared at his charge.  “I thought I told you not talk to anyone.” Pash frowned.  “I thought you meant people who could be dangerous.” “Anyone,” Cassian repeated. “But,” Pash tried again, “Wes had a magazine about TIE fighters,” he said as if that made it all better. How was he even supposed to respond to that?  How?  Wordlessly, Cassian unrolled the magazine.  Imperial propaganda images stared back at him. He wasn't sure if that was better or worse than a skin magazine.   Deciding that was Airen Cracken's problem, he shoved the magazine into the inner pocket of his coat.   “Is this your dad?”  The other kid (apparently Wes: owner of TIE magazines) piped up.  “Maybe he can help us.”  He looked up at Cassian for a moment, then asked, “How do you get girls to talk to you?  I've tried 'hi,'” he began counting on his fingers, “And compliments, and jokes.  And my new buddy here said he tries to talk with them about spaceships-” “We're leaving.”  Cassian interrupted.   “But this is important information,” Wes protested. Cassian ignored him.  Motioning at Pash to follow him, he started into the market once more.  “Sorry.”  Pash muttered over his shoulder at his new friend. “Bye Pash,” Wes called after them as they rounded the corner of the building.  “Bye, Mr. Cracken.” Cassian froze.  Beside him, he felt Pash falter at the sudden stop. “What's wrong?”  Pash looked around the market in confusion. “You told him your name?”  Cassian asked softly. “Yes?”  Pash's confusion doubled. Cassian resisted the urge to find the nearest wall and repeatedly bang his head against it.  Airen Cracken's son thought telling people who he was ranked among his better ideas.  Tilting his head back, he stared at the sky and counted slowly backwards from ten.  What kind of idiot...?   He grabbed Pash by the back of his jacket and pulled him behind the nearest building.  Seeing the empty alleyway, he turned to face the kid.  “Listen.  When you aren't on Contruum, or with your father, and someone asks you your name, give a fake one.” “I'm a nobody,” Pash reminded him.  “It's not like I'm Bail Organa.  My name is as worthless as if it was John Antilles.” Cassian lowered his voice, “Do you have any idea how valuable you would be to the Imperials?  Your father liberated a planet.  He's helped set up resistance cells across the galaxy.  He's one of the biggest thorns in the Empire's side.  What do you think would happen if they could get their hands on you?” Judging by the look on Pash's face, he never thought that through before.  And, Cassian suspected, right about now, he was probably trying to envision how his father would rescue him should the unthinkable happen.  For half a moment, he considered letting Pash keep his childish illusions...but he couldn't.  Cracken clearly thought it was a good idea to send Pash with one of his operatives.  Pash needed to know what that meant. “Best case scenario?”  Cassian told him, “They kill you quickly.  Most likely, though, they'll slowly torture you to get every bit of information you might possibly know.  You'd be surprised how much valuable information is already in your brain – things your father told you, things you've overheard, things about your family.  You might tell yourself that you would never tell them – we like to think that – but you will.  In the end, you will.  Everyone always does.  And after they've gotten everything out of you, after you've betrayed each and every secret you have, they will kill you.  I can see what you're thinking, but before you kid yourself that there's a rescue coming, it's not.  You aren't valuable to the Rebellion.  Your father might love you – he might even be willing to die for you - but he can't send dozens of good men to their deaths to rescue someone who doesn't gain the Rebellion anything.  They capture you.  They torture you.  They kill you.  That is the only way it ends.”  Cassian watched as Pash's face continued to lose color with each word he heard.  When he still didn't speak, Cassian added, “Do you understand?” Silently, Pash swallowed, then nodded. “Good.”  He held up two fingers.  “Next lesson.  Unless you are on base, never imagine for a second that you are safe.  To the average person, Taanab is not dangerous.  It's a farming world and Imperial oversight is lax.  Just because they're lax, doesn't mean you are, because your stakes,” he pushed a finger into Pash's chest, “Are too high.  You have everything to lose.  The moment you forget that, or discount that?  Is the moment you put yourself and your team at risk.   And if your commanding officer gives you an order, you follow it unless you have a damn good reason not to.  Do you understand?” Pash nodded again. “Good.”  Cassian turned towards the entrance to the alley.  “Let's go. Do not touch anything.  Do not talk to anyone.  Stay by me.” For the first time all day, Pash obeyed, no questions asked.  The boy did not make a single peep as they waited for the speeder bus.  He didn't even kick at the pebbles in front of his feet.  Most of the time, he hung his head and stared at his shoes.  Given what he'd seen so far from Pash Cracken, Cassian doubted it was an act.  He almost felt sympathy for the boy, but pushed it away.   Airen Cracken wanted Pash to learn about intelligence work.  Cassian had told him what that meant.  The sooner Pash came to terms with how war worked – with how the galaxy worked – the better.  People didn't survive long in this sort of work.  The ones who made it a little longer than most knew how to play the game, knew how to avoid stupid mistakes, and knew how to think on their feet.  It didn't matter how many red shirts there were.  It mattered whether you got the information you needed into the hands of the person who needed it. Period. The end. The transport bus slid to a stop in front of them and its doors whispered open.  Cassian motioned for Pash to climb aboard, then dropped two cred chips into the bin in the front of the vehicle.  A cold blast of air conditioning hit him in the face.  Who, he wondered, felt the need for air conditioning on a day like today?  It didn't matter.  In thirty minutes, they'd be at the spaceport.  He could probably get a slot to leave within an hour after that. His time babysitting was drawing to a close. Cassian leaned back in his seat and propped his knees on the back of the seat ahead of him.  He resisted the urge to pull out his datapad and scroll through the information they'd purchased from Car'das to find anything of use.  Whatever was there wasn't his business unless someone higher up decided it was.  Considering how far he'd fallen, he doubted anyone wanted to trust him with any sort of useful information at the moment. Beside him, Pash looked out the window and shivered.   Cassian watched him – watched the stubborn look building around the kid's eyes – and then shrugged out of his jacket.  “Here.” Pash looked at him. “I'm warm,” he offered by way of explanation. Pash took the jacket and pulled it on with a mumbled, “Thanks.” “Guard that with your life.”  Cassian told him. “Because it's your favorite?”  Pash asked. “No.”  Cassian tapped the side of the jacket with the datacard.  “Because it has my cred chips and your magazine.” Pash nodded and zipped the jacket as if this would keep everything safe.  It would, Cassian had to admit, protect against pickpockets.  He hoped that the kid had done it for that reason.  It would show risk management – or at least thinking.   “When we get to the ship,” Pash finally spoke, “Can I do anything to help you?” “You can com home and let them know we're en route,” Cassian told him. “I can fly.”  Pash's session of silence was apparently over.  He should never have given the kid his coat.  It wasn't meant as a silent everything between us is fine now.  It was a I don't want to explain to the man who holds the future of my career in his hands how you died of hypothermia. “Can and will are two different things,” Cassian replied as the transport came to a stop.  “I'll fly.  You'll be on communications.”  He tapped Pash on the shoulder.  “This is us.” The spaceport was slightly busier than it had been when they arrived.  While that wasn't saying much, “busy” on Taanab did come with a line all of seven people long at the Customs station.  Cassian let his gaze sweep over the others, picking out five cargo pilots, an employee for a civilian transport company, and a kid not much older than Pash dressed in a coat with a crop dusting logo on the back.  A discussion broke out over the transport company employee's papers, and Cassian leaned against the metal railing for the line area to wait.   “Is it okay if I read?”  Pash asked.   Cassian nodded – it wasn't as if Pash could get in trouble reading – and watched as the kid pulled out his magazine and flipped it open.  Now that he was paying attention to it, he could see the logo of the Imperial Flight Academy on Carida blazoned on the front.  Of course, Cassian thought bitterly, It had to be Carida.  Pash looked at it with the sort of rapt awe that Cassian had only seen on the faces of religious fanatics.  Remembering the kid's requests to fly their shuttle, he asked, “You want to be a pilot?”   “Yup.” Pash nodded as he turned a page.  “As soon as I turn seventeen, I'm going to apply.  My simulator scores are already better than most cadets' and my scores in mathematics are on track.  Carida is my top choice – they have the greatest variety of programs – but Dad says Vensenor is a better program for pure flight training.” Pash needs experience.  Cassian felt something settle in his stomach as he watched Pash read about Imperial starfighters.  Sweet Force.  Cracken wasn't planning to send Pash into the field to do what Cassian and countless others did.   He was planting a mole into the Imperial military. “Next.”  The Customs officer called out. “We're after her.”  Cassian tried to keep his voice neutral as he played through the implications of Cracken's plan.  “Find your travel papers.” What sort of man sent his own child into the Rancor's pit?   You've been fighting since you were younger than Pash.  Cassian told the voice in his mind to be quiet.  That was different.   When he joined the fight, he didn't have a family.  There hadn't been anyone left to look out for him.   The woman who had been talking with the Customs officer moved off into the spaceport.  The officer waved at them to step forward.  “Papers?” Cassian handed his over and waited for Pash to retrieve his from the rear pocket of his pants.  He made a mental note to explain the importance of stashing papers in places from which they could not be easily stolen to Pash on the ride home. “Name?”  The Customs officer looked bored. “Britt Dorset,” Cassian matched the officer's bored tone. “I'm Jon.”  Pash put in. The officer glanced at their photos, then at them.  “Your kid?” “Nephew.”  Cassian offered. “Purpose on world?”  The officer began stamping the documents. “Picking up a shipment of turnips.”  Cassian replied. The Customs officer nodded once, then passed them their documents.   “You're good to go.  See Control on the second floor about scheduling an exit window.” “Can I meet you at the ship?”  Pash asked as they moved into the spaceport.  “I want to see if I can do the calculations for the nav computer and then compare them with yours.  For practice.” Cassian tried to find the catch to that.  The spaceport was pretty dead.  It wasn't that far to the shuttle.  The kid wanted to do math – and Cassian believed he was being truthful about that.  “Sure.”  He handed Pash a control chip.  “Just lock it up once you're on board and don't let anyone until I get back.” He waited until Pash disappeared in the direction of the shuttle before taking the stairs to Traffic Control.  Several rounds of paperwork – the boring predictable sort – and the traditional bribe, and he had an exit slot within the hour.  It would have been perfect except that, upon returning to the ship, he was greeted with a locked hull and no Pash.   You have got to be kidding me.  Cassian stared at the hull of the ship and wondered how – how – he'd let himself be played by a fifteen year old kid.  He was the galaxy's greatest idiot.  No wonder Cracken no longer trusted him.  He was dumb enough to believe a fifteen year old actually wanted to do math. “Are you looking for the redhead boy?” Cassian turned and saw an older man leaning against a pile of crates and smoking a pipe.  “Yes.” “He went off with the Roat boys.”  The old man pointed at Cassian with his pipe. He didn't know who the Roat boys were.  He found he didn't care.  All he knew was that he was going to make that kid's life a nightmare from now until they arrived back with the Alliance.  “I don't believe it,” Cassian muttered. “Oh, believe it,” the man told him.  “If it helps, he didn't really have much of a choice in the matter.  They jumped him right quick.  Can't say I'm surprised after all that nonsense with his old man.” Cassian felt himself turn cold.  There was bad, and then there was bad.  Pash Cracken being made as Pash Cracken – someone taking Pash Cracken because of Airen Cracken – that was about as bad as it could get.  Cassian bit back a growl.  Apparently, Pash's little revelation in the market did not go unnoticed.  “Which way did they go.” “Can't seem to remember.” Cassian held up his last cred chip. “Just remembered.”  The man pocketed the chip.  “Their ship is docked in Bay 17.” A quick check of the spaceport map revealed Bay 17 was one of the furthest landing bays from the center of the spaceport.  Of course it was.  The sort of people who abducted children weren't going to do their dirty work where anyone could see them.  If they were smart, they were also the sort who wouldn't hang around long. He ran. He ran because he needed to return Pash in one piece to keep his place in the Rebellion.  He ran because he had orders and he'd be damned if some thugs named Roat were going to keep him from following them.  He ran because Pash was a stupid, naive, privileged little idiot, and some damn foolish part of Cassian wanted the boy to stay that way – to stay a child even if it was just for a few more months. He needn't have worried about the Roats leaving Taanab.  When he reached Bay 17, he found stacks of crates, some as high as the ship, that were either being loaded or unloaded.  For now, they were forgotten.  For half a heartbeat, Cassian wondered if the bay was deserted or if he had been misled.  Then he heard the voices. Walking around the crates, unarmed, to confront people who almost certainly were not in compliance with Taanab's spaceport blaster restriction laws did not seem like a good way to recover his charge.   Cassian glanced at the piles of crates, mentally measuring the heights of various stacks against the height of the ship.  If he could get above them, he might be able to jump them.... He climbed. It was, as climbs were concerned, one of the easier ones.  The crates were large and stable, despite not being tied down or otherwise attached to anything.  At a height of about one standard story, he was able to transition from the boxes to the wing of the ship, and from there, crawl along the wing towards the voices near the back of the ship. “But that's what I'm trying to tell you,” Pash was saying as Cassian peered over the back edge of the wing.  “ I'm not Jon Dorset.  I'm not even from Taanab.”  He looked between two scrappy looking thugs, neither of whom had been anywhere near a sink for days and both of whom held battered blasters. “You're a terrible liar,” the thug on Pash's left said.  “We saw you in the market.  Don't look at me like that.  Everyone knows you run with the Janson kid.  How many redheaded friends do you think Janson has?  Mort here was even behind you in line when you went through Customs.” The thug on the right, obviously the “Mort” in question, looked down at Pash at sneered.  “Yeah.  How dumb do you think we are?” “Next he's going to tell us his daddy really doesn't have any money,” the other thug joked, waving a blaster under Pash's nose.  Pash's eyes somehow managed to get even larger. Cassian rolled onto his back and took stock of the situation.  It was not good.  If K-2 was here, he could give Cassian a percentage of 'not good,' but Cassian was going to take a stab in the dark and say it was 100% not good.   Alliance intelligence had messed up.  Their names were supposed to be objects of fantasy, but either sloppy work or failed research resulted in Intelligence giving at least Pash the name of a real Taanabian.  Worse yet, it was the name of a Taanabian that he resembled and that petty criminals cared about.  Cassian silently hoped Jon Dorset was worth more alive than dead – and that the men would give him an opening to reclaim his teenage charge. Mort looked at Pash, who was doing a good job of saying nothing, and cycled through several more sneers.  “Not so clever now, are ya?”  Another four versions of sneer crossed his mouth. He caught his partner's eye and jerked his thumb around the back of his ship.  “Load him in the speeder.  I'll contact his father.” Cassian ran through a quick mental catalog of what he had available to him for use as a weapon.  It turned up nothing useful – no knives, no sharp implements...he didn't even have his coat any longer.   Beneath him, the remaining thug was waving the blaster in the direction of the speeder and ordering Pash inside.  If that happened, his chances of recovering a breathing Pash Cracken went down dramatically.  Don't get in the speeder.  Don't get in the speeder.   Pash hesitated. “Kid, don't make me tell you again.”  The thug's slid the safety off the blaster.  “Mort might want money from your dad, but I'm fine with my revenge the old fashioned way.” He was done waiting. The drop wasn't as bad as it could have been.  Landing on the thug helped.  And then there was nothing – no emotions, no pain – just simple, basic flashes from his senses.  The clatter as the blaster fell to the floor.  The hard muscles in the back of the other man.  The flash of light against metal as his opponent drew a knife.  The crack of ligaments as he manipulated the wrist of the knife hand.  The way the knife bit into the skin of his arm as he tried to wrest it away.  The heavy breathing as his opponent moved to throw him.  The feel of a clean snap as he broke the neck of the other man. And then it was over, and Cassian found himself staggering backwards from his opponent. He was aware that his breath was ragged, and that his heart was racing, and that less than a minute had passed since he leapt from the top of the ship's wing.  Regaining his footing, he straightened and looked at Pash. The kid's eyes were huge.  They moved from Cassian, to the body on the floor, and back to Cassian.  His right hand, Cassian noted, clutched the blaster the thug had dropped.  “Is he...?” “Yes.” He retrieved the knife from where it had fallen and set to work cutting a sleeve off the thug's shirt.  He didn't even want to think about how the gash on his arm was going to feel once the adrenaline began to wear off.  Thrusting the fabric at Pash, he pulled back his own sleeve.  “I need you to cover the wound, and bind it with this.” For a long moment, it looked like Pash was going to do nothing more than stare at the corpse.  Then he blinked once, grabbed the stripped away sleeve, and pressed it against Cassian's forearm.  “How much pressure?”  He began to wrap the makeshift bandage. “I'll let you know if its too tight.”  It was starting to hurt already.  Damn.  He couldn't get a good look at it, but he knew it was bad if it hurt already.  Cassian waited in silence until the bandage was tied off.  As long as the knife hadn't gotten an artery, that should hold until they got back to the spaceport.  If the knife had caught an artery, well, then it wouldn't matter. “Here.”  Pash shrugged out of Cassian's coat and held it out to him.   “This is bulky enough that it should hide the, uh, bandage so we won't attract attention on the way back to the ship.” It was a little less bulky on him than on Pash, but at least the kid was thinking.   Careful of the arm, Cassian pulled the coat on, then motioned to Pash with his good hand.  “Okay.  Good work.  We're leaving.”  He took three steps, watched the world swim, paused, then shut his eyes.  “Kid?” “Yes?” “When you said you knew how to fly a shuttle,” while asking me to let you fly every five minutes on the way here, “How much experience do you have?” “I've been doing solo flights in a Z95 since I was twelve.”  Pash told him.  “Are you going to let me fly?” “No.”  Cassian said gruffly.  “But if I pass out on the way out of here, then you are allowed to fly.” ~*~ “Are you sure you don't want to use Bacta patches for this?”  The medic set down a metal tray on to the table.   Cassian cast a look at the suture needles and thread on the tray, then made a point of looking anywhere but at the tray.  “Positive.”  Bacta patches might be painless, but they were also not as plentiful on bases as the more archaic methods of healing.  “It's just a scratch.” “It'll probably be a good twelve stitches.”  The medic corrected him coolly.  “You're lucky your assailant didn't nick anything important.”  When he merely held out his arm in response, she shook her head once, then got to work cleaning the wound. He tried to ignore the pain and concentrate on developing a decent explanation for why a routine pick up had gone wrong.   Sometime around the fourth pass of the needle through his skin, he had to admit the worst: there was no good way to spin your kid almost died on my watch to a commanding officer. There was also a good chance this was the end.  Cassian shut his eyes and kept his teeth clenched together.  He still wasn't sure what he'd done to get this unofficial demotion, but the day's events had surely cemented whatever poor opinions Cracken and the others must have had of him.   This job was all he had.  This fight was all he had.  Everything had been lost or taken or given in the name of this cause.   It would all be for nothing. “How bad was it?”  Airen Cracken's gruff voice interrupted the silence.  Cassian opened his eyes to see the general just inside the room, his shoulder leaning against the wall. “Twelve stitches.”  The medic replied as she finished a knot on the sutures.  “But the wound wasn't dangerously deep.  He'll live.” Cassian gave her a wane smile and reached for his sleeve. “Don't even think about it, Captain.”  The medic stuck him with the sort of stern look he always imagined school headmistresses would perfect for unruly students.  “That shirt is filthy.  Unless you'd like to be back in here with an infection?” He dropped his hand back to his lap. Cracken gave the medic a tired smile as he pushed himself upright.  “Do you mind if we use the room for a few minutes?” “As long as you make sure he doesn't try to roll down that sleeve,” the medic waved a hand in Cassian's direction, “Be my guest.” As Cracken took up the spot that the medic vacated, Cassian found himself subconsciously reaching for his sleeve, only to stop under Cracken's gaze.  He forced his hand away again and his chin to stay up.  He opened his mouth to report, only to have Cracken hold up a hand.  “Pash filled me in.” Cassian took a moment to run that through his mind before choosing the neutral response of, “I see.” “Not exactly how I expected things to go.”  Cracken continued. It was the sort of moment where someone could use the phrases “I can explain” or “I'm sorry.”  Either of those phrases implied guilt, however, so Cassian said nothing. Cracken sighed heavily and leaned forward to rest his elbows on the small table.  “I just thank the Force you were the one with him.” Cassian blinked.  That was not exactly the direction he expected the conversation to go.  “Sir?” Cracken favored him with a tired look.  “I suspect you're wondering why I pulled you from your typical roster of assignments to accompany a fifteen year old.”  He rubbed at his temples, then leaned back in his chair once more.  “Pash is a prodigy at military spaceflight.  He was better than me by the time he was thirteen.  He can beat any of the old simulator scenarios we have, and he's likely better than at least half of the military grade pilots we've got in the Rebellion.  What he's not good at is espionage.” “He told me about the flight academy,” Cassian offered. Cracken blinked.  “He told you?”  He sighed heavily and shook his head.  “Figures.  Yes, I plan on sending him to one of the flight academies if I think he can handle it.  We're setting up some small training ops for him – things like spending a month at a boarding school here or several weeks in a group home there.  They're ways for him to practice being someone else without the stakes being quite so high – and tests to make sure he won't make the sort of mistake that could end his life.” The several hours he'd had to mull over the idea of Cracken using his own son as a spy hadn't given Cassian any additional guidance on how to feel about that.  Part of him wanted to shake the man and tell him how lucky he was to have a normal family, and that he needed to do everything he could to never, ever risk that.  Another part of him had to admit that planting a mole Cracken knew he could trust was smart.   Neither of those thoughts were thoughts he could voice, so he chose to stick to the practical aspects.  “He's not going to be like your regular operatives.  He sees life as black and white.” “He's young.”   Cracken nodded.  “Fortunately, he just has to attend classes and fly fighters and keep an ear to the ground.  And when the time comes...well, he's starting to have his eyes opened to the realities of war.”   Yes, watching a man get his neck snapped had that effect on a person.   Cassian wasn't about to share that thought either, and returned to the safely neutral response of, “I see.” Cracken studied him a moment, then announced, “I'm looking for people to act as handlers.” “Handlers,” he repeated. “People to train Pash, get him ready.  Make sure he knows how to take care of himself.  Make sure he learns how to blend in and cover his tracks.  Make sure he understands what he's getting into before it's too late.  Make sure he stays alive.”  Cracken continued.  “I was wondering if you had anyone you'd recommend.” Cracken meant him.  Cassian took a moment to consider the implications.  What he'd seen as a demotion was, in fact, an audition - one he'd apparently passed with flying colors.  There was probably some sort of promotion in it.  It was most definitely meant to be some sort of honor.  At the end of the day, though, he couldn't see himself spending the next two years grooming a kid for a long term undercover op.  There were better ways he could be useful.  “I'd recommend Lena Cavert.  She's smart, trustworthy, and has a fair bit of undercover experience thanks to her days at CorSec.” If Cracken was surprised, he didn't show it.  He merely picked up a pencil and jotted the name down on a piece of flimsy, as if he had just heard it and hadn't been speaking with the woman the day before.   “That's a good recommendation.  Anyone else you can think of?” “If I was going to send my son into an enemy stronghold, I'd want Cavert training him,” Cassian replied. Cracken was silent a long moment.  Finally, he climbed to his feet.   “Draven has a neutralization assignment on his desk.”  The unspoken care to reconsider hung in the air. No one liked neutralization work.  It was a necessary evil – and the sort he'd do dozens of times over during the two years he could be spending training Pash Cracken to infiltrate the Imperial military.  He tried to imagine switching from ops to training, what it would be like to work behind the scenes and play an occasional character role if the situation required it.  It was a relatively safe assignment – and a relatively unmessy one.  And it was all to get one kid ready to do one thing two years from now.  There was too much to do now.  Cassian cleared his throat.  “Thank you, sir.  I'll report to him once we're back on world.” Notes: - There’s a lot of conflicting information on Pash’s age.  Based on his story arc pre-RotJ, I calculated he'd have been born 15 or 16 ABY.  *shrug* - Janson was one of the younger pilots at Yavin (despite not getting to fly because he was ill).  I have him about Pash's age here. - Cassian suspects Car'das's organization would sell them out.   Ironically, he deals with Karrde, who wouldn't have done so, as selling people out is terrible for business.  Also “Sabacc Card” seemed to me like the type of absolutely horrible pun Karrde would love. - The “count the red shirts” game is taken from Psych, where the main character's father would have him count hats.  I used red shirts because...red shirts. - Liana Hallik was one of Jyn Erso's pseudonyms.  In about a year, “Liana” will be arrested for, inter alia, having weapons she shouldn't. - Johnny Dorset is the name of the kidnapped child in 'The Ransom of Red Chief.' - When I originally wrote that Pash had a brochure for the Imperial Academy on Carida, I did not know of Cassian's family connection to it. It actually came from some old Pash-centric stuff I'd written that he'd wanted to go there, but ended up elsewhere and just re-used it.  The Universe apparently decided this was Meant To Be.       

[lordaeronslost]

What Once Was Broken

Lyyn stood at the back of the crowded meeting room, blending in with the other aides and staff officers as time dwindled down toward the beginning of another round of Command meetings, ones that seemed to go on endlessly from dawn until dusk and sometimes deep into the night.  The appearance of Argus in the skies over Azeroth had done nothing if not whipped the Alliance military into a greater frenzy, one unlike any she could ever remember seeing—even the Cataclysm hadn’t been this bad.  The spy hid in plain sight, dressed in the uniform of a unit of Theramore Irregulars, purportedly an aide to Colonel Nathan Terrace—which she had been in the past, albeit as an agent of her father, now years ago.

“I need quiet in this chamber,” the voice of one of aides-de-camp from Command called from the front of the chamber.  “Quiet in the chamber.  Please find your seats so we can begin.”

The cacophony of voices died down to a quiet murmur, then down to nothing but the sound of scraping chairs and shuffling papers as the assembled found their way to their appointed places—the officers commanding battalions and better at the table, others in the gallery above, and then the aides like her clustered around the walls, notepads and recording implements ready.  It was after their brief mid-morning break and would be hours before they broke for lunch if this followed the usual path of the last few days. Lyyn had managed to gather a bit of information from the meetings—but nowhere near what she’d hoped.

They barely know more than us.  Thank the goddess that Quin’s got my sister’s ear and is getting what the Kirin Tor know out of her.  Her jaw set. If the Alliance and the Kirin Tor didn’t end up on the same page—

Leaving aside the Horde entirely.  This is a fight for all of us, not just one side or the other. We all die together regardless of who hates whom.

There hadn’t been word from Whisper in months and it worried her.

“Sergeant Tulliver, if you please?”

Lyyn blinked, glancing toward the side of the room and the set of small double doors guarded by the sergeant-at-arms who’d been addressed.  The young man gave a short nod and reached for the doors.

“Yes, sir.”

The door swung open and in strode the last person Lyyn expected to see in the chamber.

Jude swept in as regal as a queen, dressed in the dark blue robes of a Kirin Tor battle mage and the darker still tabard of the old Argent Dawn, its silver and gold sun device stark against the blue-black weave of the fabric.  Her decorations for valor and bravery—among other things—were fastened to her pauldrons in the Kirin Tor style.  Her hood was up—also in the Kirin Tor style—though Lyyn could see her sister’s eyes flash dangerously as she strode toward the front of the room.  A few of the officers at the table stiffened, as if surprised—or afraid of what the mage’s presence represented.

She stopped at the foot of the dais where the highest ranking marshals and generals of the Alliance were seated—those that weren’t in the field with their commands—and lifted her chin even as she lowered her hood, flame-red hair spilling over her shoulders. “Present as requested, gentlemen.”

One of the marshals leaned forward, his gaze penetrating, focused.  “Judean Auroran, Viscountess Greymantle.  Unit commander, Argent Crusade.  Kirin Tor battle mage battalion leader.  Former Chancellor of the Retribution of Arathor, a unit of Alliance irregulars commissioned during the leadership of Magni Bronzebeard in the years after the Third War, decommissioned two weeks after the fall of Theramore.  Involved in the campaigns in Outland, Northrend, and against Deathwing.  Present at the defense—and evacuation—of Theramore.”

Jude regarded him with a long, cold look.  “Yes,” she said simply.

“There is a proposal that has been brought forth within High Command that your unit be recommissioned that you be awarded the rank of full Commander and all the rights and privileges involved.  You will retain autonomy over the decisions for your unit and undertake missions and assignments as you see fit but will have all the authority, rights, and responsibilities of a unit of Alliance irregulars.”

Lyyn pressed her spine against the wall, her stomach dropping.

She wouldn’t—would she?

Jude was silent for a few long moments.  “I see. And when was High Command intending to inform me of this proposal?”

“We are informing you of it now,” another of the marshals said.

“That you are,” Jude said, her voice low and deadly.  “In front of half of Command and their staffs, you inform a military leader that maybe, just maybe, you intend to recommission her unit, one that was utterly shattered by a singular tragedy, one whose members are now long retired or reassigned. I imagine that you expect me to reform a unit of the same effectiveness and fighting strength as before, correct?”

“That was our hope,” the second marshal said.

The mage’s eyes flashed. “Perhaps you hope in vain.  It would not be as you imagine it would be.”

“Not all of us are under the same illusion, Viscountess,” the first marshal said quietly.  “You can trust in that.”

“Can I?”

He nodded, once.  “Yes.  Yes, you can.”

“Very well,” Jude said. “But I think you realize that this is not a decision I can make lightly or without full knowledge of what is expected. Please send a copy of the proposal including all addendums by courier to Dalaran as quickly as possible.  I will review the proposal and provide you with my answer.”  She gave them a sharp nod, her shoulders square.  “Good-day, gentlemen.”

With that, she pivoted on her heel and walked out, lifting her hood as she went, leaving the assembly in stunned silence in her wake.

OOC note:

Anyone may feel free to respond or react to this that would have a way of hearing about it.  It’s the beginning of something larger for Jude Auroran, a military commander still wrestling with some demons of her past--and what her future might hold.  Trying to get a little more RP rolling for the Soldier of Seeker, Soldier, Spies and this seemed like a good option.  Available on Tumblr here or in game upon request unless you see me online, then just poke me!

[manabingu]

ManaTagged! Heyoo~

tagged by the sweet ♥ @rainbow-galaxy-supernova  (sorry its overdue)

The last:

1.) Drink: Raspberry Milk Tea w/Lychee Popping Pearls

2.) Phone call: to @tyrestgwa earlier today via skype

3.) Text message: to @crystalwoodsart

4.) Song you listened to: Phoenix Ash’s Cover of JAP by Abingdon Boys School & Fome’s Cover of Count Zero by T.M. Revolution (SO FCKN GOOD)

5.) Time you cried: yesterday 8D during Wonder Woman ;U;o

6.) Dated someone twice: Tyrest is the first & only official dating. But me and @crystalwoodsart have been married practically since 6th grade. She is mY WAIFU!

7.) Been Cheated on: Thank Ra No!

8.) Kissed someone and regretted it: Nah.BUT I mean- iN DREAMS YES.

9.) Lost someone special: It’s a universal thing. Namely pets for me

10.) Been depressed: 8) Story of my LIFE! But I’ve been makin progress

11.) Gotten drunk and thrown up: I REFUSE to consume alcohol/drugs

12-14.) LIST 3 FAVORITE COLORS: Turquoise,Galaxy Print,Pastels/Silver tie

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU…

15.) Made new friends: I’ve been blessed thanks to YT Idol w/new singer pals!

16.) Fallen out of love: Yeah...in  high school I had so many talent crushes. Which I think is normal for theater kids. But I think I ended up with the correct person. He truly understands me. And though I sometimes wonder what would my life be if I had confessed my love to those others, I’m happy I waited for the person who accepted me just the way I am ;w;o

17.) Laughed until you cried: AS AN ABRIDGER, I am privileged to be surrounded by INCREDIBLY hilarious people & I love it!♥

18.) Found out someone was talking about you: YES. And BOY is it a trip when I find people are horrible trolls. I find out about sweet people who say super kind things about me or my work all the time. But when I get a heads up about backstabbers or people who get close for the wrong reasons, I put my guard up around them & just do my own thing. Because a path of jealousy, hatred & vengeance isn’t for me. Bullies can talk, but I’ll always ignore them.

19.) Met someone who changed you: Namely Tyrest,Crystal,Panda,Wraith10, @cozymochi (bows to her greatness), LordMoonstone, @kittykatsandbox, (FAB SENPAI) @ahsimwithsake & @laurathia who are 1 of 2 sets of adoptive internet parents I have XD and MOST RECENT OF ALL CEONN. If I hadn’t met Ceonn, my singing career journey wouldn’t have taken off.THANX

20.) Found out who your true friends are: YEP 8)! Sadly, just recently too...

21.) Kissed someone on your Facebook list: Well, hispanic people greet each other by cheek kisses so  I will say yes.

22.) How many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: Everyone cuz my FB is family & IRL friends only ^^; BUT my ZEXAL Abridged has a FB 

23.) Do you have any pets: My pet cockatiel Patchos 8D

24.) Do you want to change your name: No, but don’t mind having a stage name to be honest. I love stage names ^_^

25.) What did you do for your last birthday: Probably sang,drew & other stuff 

26.) What time did you wake up: 9 or 10ish? I had to meet some friends today

27.) What were you doing at midnight last night: GAWKING at Gal Gadot

28.) Name something you cannot wait for:Anime Idol @ Metrocon, finally getting out more song covers/abridged stuff. And being stable again.

29.) When was the last time you saw your mother?: a few seconds ago

30.) What is one thing you wish you could change about your life: I wish that ONE thing didn’t happen & my family had the same wealth we shoulda had if luck was on our side. That & I wish I wasn’t afraid of certain things so I could progress faster.

31.) What are you listening to right now: Fome’s Covers,& MY own covers

32.) Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: yeS?

33.) Something that is getting on your nerves: Hypocrites lately 8)

34.) Most visited website: Tumblr,Instagram,Twitter & YT are tied tbh

35-37.) Finished all of school: yeppers

38.) Hair color: Dark Chocolate Brown (I used swatches at Sally’s XD)

39.) Long or short hair: I enjoy having long princess hair, but I cut it recently QuQ woops. Mostly cuz I wanted to try a T.M. Revolution hairdo XD

40.) Do you have a crush on someone: I HAVE ANIMAY HUSbANDs/WAifUS

41.) What do you like about yourself: My voice range! I used to be SO self conscious as a kid, but eventually it became my greatest strength because it’s SO versatile it honestly I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for my unique voice QuQ

42.) Piercings: My ears have been pierced since birth. Mom wanted it

43.) Blood type: O? I think was what it was? It’s been years lol

44.) Nickname: Mana & Ginga (to my singer friends)

45.) Relationship status: Taken by Tyrest (with Crystal on the side ;D heh)

46.) Zodiac sign: I am a proud Sagittarius ♐

47.) Pronouns: Her is fine, but I don’t mind He if I’m crossplaying (mostly Ginga). It’s kind of a weird thing for me cuz I’m genderfluid ;w; but if anything to avoid confusion, just go with feminine one XD cuz whatvs???

48.) Favorite TV show: ITS HARD. I like too many things.Non-Anime TV Show wise I watch mostly Trail & Error & Fresh Off the Boat. But Anime-wise: ZEXAL (but YGO in general), Darker Than Black, One Punch Man/Mob Psycho 100, Uta no Prince-sama, Saint Seiya/Omega, Tokyo Mew Mew, Kaleido Star, anything by CLAMP, Kamen Rider Gaim/Fourze, Death Note, Attack on Titan, Tokyo Magnitude 8.0, FMA...too many...I know I have more...

49.) Tattoos: NoPe

50.) Right or left hand: Righty

FIRST…

51.) Surgery: In 8th grade I almost died 8D! Ruptured appendix, 3 consecutive operations & all because the first time I went to the emrgency they sent me home & misdiagnosed me with stomach flu 8D HAH.HAH.HAAAA ;~~~;...

52.) Piercing: Ears only as mentioned previously

54.) Sport:I don’t do any.My fave is figure skating tho. I love Yuzuru Hanyu♥

55.) Vacation: Technically me comin to the U.S for the first time counts

56.) Pair of trainers: Is that slang for shoes???...uhh??

MORE GENERAL…

57.) Eating: I ate sushi at a Chinese Buffet called Giant Panda today

58.) Drinking: finished all the boba tea ;w;

59.) I’m about to: Sleep cuz it’s 1am xD

61.) Waiting for: Good news, & replies from a few emails I sent this week

62.) Want: To make my YT Channel flourish & master my voice

63.) Get married: With luck but I think a paper doesn’t dictate if you love a person or not. BECAUSE i wanna pursue singing/acting, I know I’ll always be traveling ;w; so that decision is hard. I mean we can be OFFICIAL via the paper thingy but like, I already know we’re together XD ffff lol

64.) Career: Singer/Actor/Voice Actor & Internet Personality maybe

65.) Hugs or kisses: Both ^o^...cuz honestly I’m a fluffy person ;w;o

66.) Lips or eyes: Both again...I Can’T HElP IT (deep down my thoughts are as swirly with flirtatious things...proly explains Ginga’s mannerisms)

67.) Shorter or taller: I’m short ;w; sniffs 5′1. Everyone else is a tree

68.) Older or younger: Depends on relationship type? Like I think having a partner at a relatively older age because I am anxious af & need someone older to guide me when I’m struggling, but don’t mind younger (but MATURE) person by 2 years max. But when it comes to friends, I befriend anyone who is kind-hearted. Because we can learn a lot from elders/ our youth

70.) Nice arms or nice stomach: I don’t mind either or but TMR is @U@

71.) Sensitive or loud: I’m drawn more to sensitive people because they have higher levels of compassion & kinder hearts.

72.) Hook up or relationship: Relationship cuz I’m loyal AF

73.) Troublemaker or hesitant: Egh...both have downfalls. Hesitant is safer tho

HAVE YOU EVER…

74.) Kissed a stranger?: Nope BUT if I become an actor, that is a thought that keeps me up at night XD cuz ...again...I’m loyal af ;-;

75.) Drank hard liquor?: EWW >_>

76.) Lost glasses contact/lenses?: YES. During a musical in 10th grade (Suessical I was Cat in the Hat) I was on a trampoline and THEY FLEW OFF MY FACE! And ....we never found em O_O...they vanished....

77.) Turned someone down?: Yeah...a bunch of creepy fanboys throughout the years... 8) unfortunately the downfall of being an internet person

78.) Sex on first date?: DEPENDS. I’m demisexual, so I’m attracted to personality/emotional bonds not physical appearances. So IF my emotions towards them is high enough, I dunno if things could happen? But usually I stay reserved cuz I need to feel like I honestly love the person THAT much.

79.) Broken someone’s heart?: Probably ;w;...2 old buddies. I knew they had crushes on me...but I just didn’t feel the same way towards them -actually someone ELSE admitted they had a crush on me last month so the count is now up to 3...AGH. I WISH they can find someone who will make em happy because I think they deserve it tbh. They’re good dudes.

80.) Had your heart broken?: Once yeah, an old childhood crush was honestly insensitive when I asked him if he ever felt something for me &  he said “ehhh not really?” in a way that came off as insensitive XD?....yeah. But the MORE I thought about why I liked him, the more I realized I could NEVER be in a relationship with them cuz they were immature & didn’t know how to be serious.They don’t balance goofiness & sensitivity & I need a balanced person

81.) Been arrested?: NO

82.) Cried when someone died?: waterfalls of tears cuz I’m an emotional wreck

83.) Fallen for a friend?: yeah =w= a bunch of abridgers/singers hah. I get talent crushes ALL the time, but don’t act on it cuz I’m shy AND taken XD

DO YOU BELIEVE IN…

84.) Yourself?: Usually...but I have many moments where I question if I’m good enough or worthy enough to be here ;w; gotta work on my Kattobingu

85.) Miracles?: Shining Draws should be real. But yeah miracles CAN happen

86.) Love at first sight?: FUYA OKUDAIRA 8D...and Takanori Nishikawa...and Mahiro Takasugi and Aoi Shouta tbh

87.) Santa Claus?: Elf is my favorite Christmas movie

88.) Kiss on the first date?: IT DEPENDS. But if it happens? AIGHT????

89.) Angels?: Yes \QwQ/! angels are real. @rosey-ballerina is one

OTHER….

90.) Current best friend’s name: Crystal is my bff & waifu but Tyrest too but honestly Kimmy, Panda & Ceonn are also tied with those 2

91.) Eye color: Brownies eUe

92.) Favorite movie: Finding Nemo, Big Hero 6,Lion King (all 3), All 3 Yu-Gi-Oh! Movies,The Emperor’s New Groove,Mrs. Doubtfire, Moana, Wonder Woman, Mary Poppins, Arrival, The Mummy, Matilda, Harry Potter, Pokemon 3,Hercules, Grave of the Fireflies, Antman, The Producers....and a few others

I tag: @t-chan @sylphwriter @eleanorose123 @ivmysterynumbers @zexalfangirl @shybunny @galaxyeyedphoton