#when i offered to cover some of his transportation fees

[bigshoeswamp]

as someone who works with conflict, i really just hate it sometimes

[ja-gul-writes]

This is the cover for the first book in my series. The little guy is actually just a normal guy, and his name is Leon. He's from our world, and is a tired, overworked and underpaid janitor who's boss was being a total jerk (and should have totally been sued for sexual harassment). Leon's secret kink has always been size difference, and he just wanted to take a giant dick, ya know? Totally reasonable!

Well, then he suddenly gets transported to another world (yes this is an isekai) right in front of a horny, lonely giant named Zayan who thinks humans are just the cutest fucking things on the planet, who also thinks that this human in specific is offering himself to the giant.

I dunno why but Tumblr has made the image look a little blurry to me.

Anyways, making this cover was really hard because I was using vector graphics and it DID NOT scale properly and I had to export every single colour and shadow layer as a separate image so that I could do colour adjusting in a different program. It's the same method for the other covers in this series, but once this series is done I am totally going to find a different art style.

... Does anyone want to hear me rant about book covers? No? Okay, I'll go on then.

Did you know that if you were to use stock photos to make covers, depending on where you get it from you need special permission to use a person's face on the cover of a book that has queer content? Yeah, that's stupid, because the same rules do not apply to straight content. Got a straight couple on your book, no big deal. Got a gay couple, well make sure you have special permission. Oh and sometimes you can't even put anyone's face on the cover of a book at all. And you probably have to pay the licensing fees to get that stock photo. And there's a chance someone else has used it on their book cover too.

It's in some ways a lot easier to have a drawn cover. Because even if you visually used a reference image for a character's pose or proportions, reference images do not need to be licensed. And if you've drawn it all yourself, then you own the art and can do whatever you want with it, whereas if you've paid an artist you might be limited to what you can do with it.

The one thing to look out for too is fonts. If you download fonts from a website, make sure to filter by fonts that are 100% free for full commercial use, meaning you can use the font on the cover of a book you are profiting from and don't need to pay anyone for it. Because some fonts are free ONLY to use for things that won't make you money, or if you do make money you owe the font-maker royalties. And when you're writing books and making very little money, paying anyone a royalty from your earnings could be a deal-breaker. Avoid the pitfalls of this by only ever downloading 100% free fonts. Doesn't matter how nice the licensed fonts are, just don't download them, that way you don't have to remember which ones you have are free and which ones are licensed.

BTW, here's the programs I used to make cover art, write book, and format it. The programs are free and open-sourced.

Inkscape for vector art: https://inkscape.org/

GIMP for colours (it's a photoshop type software): https://www.gimp.org/

LibreOffice for writing (and they also have spreadsheets): https://www.libreoffice.org/

And for formatting, because I publish on amazon I used amazon's Kindle Create which helped format the book.

[gravelgirty]

When you give a cat a home...

Please remember what it means.  In the USA if you want to do the right thing, most vet offices won’t simply spay/neuter a cat or dog off the street without putting them through tests (bloodwork, scanning, labs) because that’s how they screen for diseases.  And it is expensive.

We took in this little fellow, starving and rail-thin during a rotten winter storm.  He had been living on his own for quite a while, but we can’t keep him. We were saving his life. 

Fine, we thought...We’ll apply to the local shelter and pay the sliding scale fee to get him spayed and surely he will be far more adoptable that way (oh, yeah). My sister’s porch is overrun by all these cats the Crazy Cat Lady had on her porch and then she died...they all have diseases and keep breeding faster than she can keep up, and she actually found volunteers who do TNR for free.

But my application was processed at the same time the county seized multiple hoarding households and first one, then another, then another house made the news for SO MANY CATS brought to the shelter, all in physically poor condition and in need of their own neutering.  Let’s not mention names; Tacoma is a big place but not big enough to protect privacies.

The weeks ticked by with no end and sight.  We live sparingly; I have three jobs to keep up with rent and utilities and food.  My kids work too but we don’t have a car and public transportation is a minimum $62 a month for each adult. My son’s cat is diabetic and needs $160 a month in insulin and syringes; that doesn’t even cover the diabetic cat food (pro tip: FELINE FANCY FEAST CLASSIC PATE any flavor is ok for diabetic cats!).  But at $1 for a tiny little can...it adds up.  For all the household cats we pay half and that means a minimum of $150 for food and litter).  Those medical credit cards, like Kare Kredit, are great in emergencies but your ability to make payments on time is soon gobbled up by cascading recurring purchases.

This is not a bad cat.  But he was in a bad situation.

Someone must have loved him.  He was litter trained and let us clip his claws(!) But he rarely purrs, and is nervous at being brushed. Being an intact male 'Orca’ wants to spray and our cats are harassed at his high energy and desire to play. Perhaps someone just couldn’t take care of him when he stopped being an adorable and physically immature kitten. We don’t know.  We were $900 in debt taking care of our cat before he came to us, and things are getting worse.  The stool sample test for parasites costs as much as month’s supply of veterinarian insulin syringes.  The pre-op health exam cost us $268.82.  Tomorrow’s blood work will be another $50-60 and the neutering surgery alone?  I don’t even want to know and that doesn’t cover using LYFT to get him to the vet--$30 in each direction, totaling to $120.  

Surely there are cheaper vet offices?  I have no doubt.  But so many offices are full to bursting and not taking new clients.

We don’t regret bringing him in, because damn it, fair is fair.  He doesn’t deserve being cold and hungry in a place where coyotes are feeding pretty well on cats their foolish owners let loose to ‘be free’.  He came right up to us.  No one posted a LOST sign; there was no proof he had been in a home for a long time.

I don’t know about other countries, but if medical debt isn’t taken seriously for humans if you are trying to apply for food stamps and other emergency resources, they sure as hell care less about pets needing care.  System = Broken over here. We already live out of the food bank (that’s its own struggle, trust me).

If you want to take up someone’s offer for a needy pet, please don’t be nervous about offering to give a few bucks toward set pet’s care with them.  Yes, many people are proud.  But the phrase ‘pay it forward’ is pretty damn hard to argue with.  Use it.  Also, when people are stressed and wondering if this little animal is really going to a good home, offering them some money is a reassurance that you can afford to care for them.

We are humans.  Part of our responsibility is stepping up to the plate when another human fails in their obligations.  And sometimes, it really costs.  

If anyone is looking for a pretty little cat in the Tacoma area and they know they can care for him, PM me. He’s coming chipped, vaxxed, tested, spayed--all the trimmings.  Except for those pesky reproductive organs.  Those are getting trimmed off on Tuesday.

[standardquip]

The article is paywalled and the popular reblogs are images of text. Here is the article with paywall removed and below is the text without the images ("the good bits") for accessibility:

During the first 13 weeks of pregnancy, when about 90 percent of abortions in America are carried out, the fetus’s appearance ranges from a small clot of phlegm to an alienlike ball of flesh. At 22 weeks, though, a human fetus has grown to about the size of a small melon. The procedures that Hern performs result in the removal of a body that, if you saw it, would inspire a sharp pang of recognition. These are the abortions that provide fodder for the gruesome images on protesters’ signs and the billboards along Midwest highways, images that can be difficult to look at for long. Many of the women who visit Hern’s clinic do so because their health is at risk—or because their fetus has a serious abnormality that would require a baby to undergo countless surgeries with little chance of survival. But Hern does not restrict his work to these cases. The phone at Hern’s clinic rings constantly these days. Since the overturning of Roe and the corresponding blitz of abortion bans, appointment books are filling up at clinics in states where abortion remains legal. Women who have to wait weeks for an appointment may end up missing the window for a first-trimester procedure. Some book a flight to Boulder to see Hern, who is treating about 50 percent more patients than usual. These later abortions are the less common cases, and the hardest ones. They are the cases that even stalwart abortion-rights advocates generally prefer not to discuss. But as the pro-choice movement strives to shore up abortion rights after the fall of Roe, its members face strategic decisions about whether and how to defend this work. Most Americans support abortion access, but they support it with limits—considerations about time and pain and fingernail development. Hern is reluctant to acknowledge any limit, any red line. He takes the woman’s-choice argument to its logical conclusion, in much the same way that, at this moment, anti-abortion activists are pressing their case to its extreme. Hern considers his religious adversaries to be zealots, and many of them are. But he is, in his own way, no less an absolutist.

[…]

“The fee will be about $6,000,” the receptionist said. Late abortions are expensive because they are medically complex. For patients who need financial aid, the National Abortion Federation may cover some of the cost, and local abortion funds often contribute. The receptionist told this to Lindsey, and offered her the organization’s number. “You can do partial cash and credit card, yes,” she said. Often, if a woman cannot afford to pay for her hotel, her transportation to Boulder, or some part of her procedure, Hern will foot the bill himself, staff members told me. Hern stopped performing first-trimester abortions a few years ago; he saw too much need for later abortions, and his clinic couldn’t do it all. The procedure he uses takes three or four days and goes like this: After performing an ultrasound, he will use a thin needle to inject a medicine called digoxin through the patient’s abdomen to stop the fetus’s heart. This is called “inducing fetal demise.” Then Hern will insert one or more laminarias—a sterile, brownish rod of seaweed—into the patient’s cervix to start the dilation process. When the cervix is sufficiently dilated after another day or two of adding and removing laminarias, Hern will drain the amniotic fluid, give the patient misoprostol, and remove the fetus. Sometimes, the fetus will be whole, intact. Other times, Hern must remove it in parts. If the patient asks, a nurse will wrap the fetus in a blanket to hold, or present a set of handprints or footprints for the patient to take home. I interviewed half a dozen of Hern’s former patients. Most of the women who agreed to talk had wanted a child. But they’d received serious diagnoses late in pregnancy: disorders with disturbing names such as prune-belly syndrome, trisomy 13, Dandy-Walker malformation, and agenesis of the corpus callosum. Some said they considered their abortions a kind of mercy killing.

[…]

Amber Jones, who terminated her pregnancy at about 24 weeks in 2016, told me that her baby’s diagnosis meant he would not survive. Hern reassured her, she said, that she “shouldn’t be made to carry the pregnancy. That it’s bullshit, and we have the right to access health care.”

[…]

Abortions that come after devastating medical diagnoses can be easier for some people to understand. But Hern estimates that at least half, and sometimes more, of the women who come to the clinic do not have these diagnoses. He and his staff are just as sympathetic to other circumstances. Many of the clinic’s teenage patients receive later abortions because they had no idea they were pregnant. Some sexual-assault victims ignore their pregnancies or feel too ashamed to see a doctor. Once, a staffer named Catherine told me, a patient opted for a later abortion because her husband had killed himself and she was suddenly broke. “There isn’t a single woman who has ever written on her bucket list that she wants to have a late abortion,” Catherine said. “There is always a reason.” The reason doesn’t really matter to Hern. Medical viability for a fetus—or its ability to survive outside the uterus—is generally considered to be somewhere from 24 to 28 weeks. Hern, though, believes that the viability of a fetus is determined not by gestational age but by a woman’s willingness to carry it. He applies the same principle to all of his prospective patients: If he thinks it’s safer for them to have an abortion than to carry and deliver the baby, he’ll take the case—usually up until around 32 weeks, with some rare later exceptions, because of the increased risk of hemorrhage and other life-threatening conditions beyond that point.

[…]

Hern was 34 when he performed his first abortion, a year before Roe v. Wade would be decided. A friend in D.C. who ran a local clinic invited him to come learn the procedure. Hern’s patient was 17 and in her first trimester of pregnancy. She wanted to be an anesthesiologist, he remembers. Hern had learned how to do a dilation-and-curettage abortion in medical school, but still, he was terrified—and so was she. He recalls that after he finished and told her she wasn’t pregnant anymore, she wept with relief. He did too. “I was overwhelmed by the significance of this operation for this young woman’s life,” he told me. “This was a new definition, for me, for practicing medicine.”

[…]

Regardless of the circumstances of pregnancy, in Hern’s view, a woman’s life—her humanity, her wishes—isn’t just more important than her fetus’s. It is virtually the only thing that matters. That approach is diametrically opposed to the view of anti-abortion advocates, for whom pregnancy means motherhood and, often, self-sacrifice.

[…]

“So if a pregnant woman with no health issues comes to the clinic, say, at 30 weeks, what would you do?” I asked Hern once. The question irked him. “Every pregnancy is a health issue!” he said. “There’s a certifiable risk of death from being pregnant, period.”

[…]

I asked Hern whether he ever worried that now, in a post-Roe world, he might have an even bigger target on his back. I wondered whether it was a bit reckless for him to be so outspoken with reporters like me. Actually, it’s the opposite, Hern replied. Being so vocal “increases the political cost of assassinating me.” “That’s dark,” I said. He simply shrugged. “This is what I have to think about.”

This was an interesting read. Surprisingly nonpreachy given the subject; and well worth the time.

[privatrtourguide01]

Same Day Agra tour by car from Delhi by Private Tour Guide India Company.

Same Day Agra Tour by Car from Delhi by Private Tour Guide India Company

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Exploring the Taj Mahal The first stop is the majestic Taj Mahal, a UNESCO World Heritage site. Built by Emperor Shah Jahan in memory of his beloved wife Mumtaz Mahal, the Taj Mahal is a symbol of eternal love. Your guide will share fascinating stories and facts about its construction, architecture, and the love story behind it.

Visit to Agra Fort After the Taj Mahal, the next destination is the Agra Fort, another UNESCO World Heritage site. This red sandstone fort served as the main residence of the Mughal emperors. Its palatial buildings and extensive courtyards reflect the grandeur of the Mughal era.

Lunch Break Enjoy a delicious lunch at a local restaurant, where you can savor authentic Mughlai cuisine. The rich flavors and spices will add a culinary highlight to your day.

Exploring Itimad-ud-Daulah’s Tomb Often referred to as the "Baby Taj," Itimad-ud-Daulah’s Tomb is another architectural marvel. This exquisite mausoleum is considered a draft of the Taj Mahal, showcasing intricate marble work and elaborate inlay designs.

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FAQs

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How long is the drive from Delhi to Agra? The drive typically takes around 3-4 hours, depending on traffic conditions.

Is the tour suitable for children? Yes, the tour is suitable for children. The guide will tailor the information to keep it interesting and engaging for younger visitors.

What should I wear when visiting the Taj Mahal? It is recommended to wear comfortable clothing and shoes. Since the Taj Mahal is a religious site, modest clothing covering shoulders and knees is preferred.

Can dietary preferences be accommodated during lunch? Yes, most restaurants in Agra offer a variety of options to accommodate different dietary preferences, including vegetarian and non-vegetarian dishes.

[scriptaed]

bygones of the sun. 07 (m)

genre: angst/fluff/smut || dance captain!hoseok, bad boy!au, uni!au

pairing: reader x hoseok;

length: 6.7k;

synopsis: Jung Hoseok was once the sweetheart of the school, the dance captain whom every girl, including you, can’t help but fall head over heels for. But like the force of the ever-glowing sun, everything that rises must also set. A year of inactivity later and he’s now the school’s resident bad boy. You’re a firm believer of allowing the past be the past, and yet you can’t help but wonder where the risen sun has gone into hiding—because perhaps its shadows have out-shined its own radiance.

Ten bucks for club dues and fifteen bucks for transportation plus utility fees and you’d think boot camps really are as luxurious and happy-go-lucky as movies paint them out to be. Unfortunately for you and your recently trance filled state, confronting the face of reality only comes colliding into you just a couple of weeks since you last saw him. Despite the malicious side effects of reading into rumors, people really aren’t lying when they say the dance club’s boot camp is synonymous to a “living hell disguised as a getaway paradise by scheming club officers.” While you aren’t attending as an official member of the team, and therefore forfeiting the rights to proclaim the overbearing stress and practices that are soon to come, there are certain other issues weighing your mind.

First off, paying twenty five bucks just to see this one despicably sly and retired dancer resume his role as the captain is all too pricey of a fee, because even you're not sure why you’ve invested so much time and effort into someone who only sees you as his next victim of his black book filled with female contacts. You thought you had gotten over him, but the mere fact that you’re attending despite claiming to be “dragged into this” is a direct opposition of such a foolish belief, or better yet, desire. But such questions become trivial when the first obstacle you face of the four days long journey ahead of you is simply tossing two overly stuffed duffel bags into the luggage compartment of the towering, chic black and white charter bus.

Struggling to weave your way through the bustling crowds of fellow trip attendees, consisting of mainly guys and specks of girls, you puff in a deep breath before picking up one bag on each hand and hustling through with all your might and diminishing courtesy. The task proves to be worse in terms of pleasantness than labor, for squatting down and searching for the smallest of a few square feet of free space while squinting your eyes against the smoke of hot, steaming gas and water vapor released from the roaring engine.

“Do you need help?”

The familiar honey-like base yet raspy edge to his voice strikes a sense of panic against your thumping chest. Is this a rise of excitement or is this a fight-or-flight defense mechanism against the threat before you?

Hesitantly turning around, you crane your neck to peer up at the one and only boy towering over you from above, an effort made in vain as all you manage to catch sight of is the black silhouette of his figure and the smug signature look of his all underneath the blinding sunlight his head so conveniently blocks.

“Or are you going to ogle and drool all over me while standing in everyone’s way?” Hoseok chortles. Your eyes follow his every move, too taken aback to move or respond. It’s been at least two weeks since you had last seen him and two weeks since… that had happened. Your lips burn and your first immediate response is to smack your hands right over them as if to cover the beet red of your cheeks and lips… or largely to prevent future advances. Hoseok only scoffs in response, smirking and squatting midway to strategically whisper into your ears, “we have lots of time to do that in the camp later, if you so want.”

“Excuse me?” you lean back as far as you can and gape, but he only squats down to your level before grabbing the bags of luggage from your hand.

“Don’t worry, I got this. After going through this entire process at least six times by now, you just gotta learn to…” his words are cut off by huffs as he forcefully pushes and tosses and squeezes bags further into the compartment before tossing his and your own along with them. “There,” he brushes his hands, “I don’t know what Jimin has been teaching them, but the new recruits seem to be awfully spoiled taking up so much space. This is boot camp, not vacation.”

“Thanks,” you say after chuckling.

“Is your gratitude exchangeable?” he asks, turning to cock his head to the side and revealing the structure of his jawline; and as much as you’d like to deny it, it takes every ounce of sheer willpower not to stare at him in awe.

“For what?” you’re barely able to utter. Hoseok stares at you in silence, dark eyes eating and drinking you up with each passing second, and that’s all you need to get the hint. The knot in your throat catches your silent gasp as you avert your gaze to the ground, cheeks burning, heart skipping, and lips throbbing. “I don’t know what you’re implying.”

“Oh, my bad, I forgot. Can’t corrupt my prude little princess just yet,” he muses, and you can just feel his sultry gaze piercing straight through your temple as he flashes you his charming damn crooked grin. Hoseok cocks his head in the direction behind the crowds of incoming baggage bearers, “go on. Your friends are waiting for you. I gotta help out here.”

“You sure you don't need any help?” you offer, standing upright to brush the invisible dirt off your lap.

Hoseok glances up at you and scoffs with the most teasing smirk possible. “Are you implying you're willing to help me? I'm thankful for the offer, your Grace, but I don't think standing there and checking me out is going to do us much good,” he laughs and throws a quick glimpse over at your friends with a lopsided smile. “I know I said this is camp and all, but you should at least have some fun now before it's too late.”

“...okay,” you hesitantly mumble, giving him a small wave and stumbling through the crowd once again to join your friends spectating from afar.

“What took you so long?” Junghwa ponders aloud, a small pout resting on her bottom lip as her foot impatiently taps against the floor.

“Sorry, the luggage compartment was almost full—”

“—wait, wait, wait, Y/N… was that Hoseok who helped you with your luggage over there?” Hani interjects with wide eyes, going on her tiptoes to confirm the back figure of said man just a few strides ahead. Not even a split second after, Junghwa’s eyes pop and the both of them turn in sync to stare at you with gaping mouths.

“No way,” Junghwa drawls. “Jung Hoseok? The ex dance captain? Your long time crush—”

“—keep your voice down,” you hiss before timidly glancing at the ground and twiddling your thumbs. “...maybe.”

“I can’t believe you’re actually doing this, Y/N,” Hani utters, the drop of her jaw and the void in her voice conveying just how shocked she is from your sudden course of actions.

“I know right,” Junghwa jumps in, hooking her arms around Hani’s crossed ones. “I mean, dance camp? Basically a trip? With Hoseok?”

“It’s not only with Hoseok,” you articulate. “There’s at least twenty other people going with us.”

“Uhuh, right, but you won’t be paying attention to any of them except Hoseok, so it’s basically the same thing. How did you even manage to convince him to return?” Junghwa exasperates, a series of blabbering shortly follows before you hurriedly clasp your hand over her running mouth to muffle her words.

A few seconds of incoherent mumbling goes by before Hani taps you on the shoulder and chuckles, “okay, Y/N, any second longer and she’s going to faint.”

As much as most normal, rational human beings would opt for breathing through the nose than the mouth in situations like this, whether out of instincts or simple common sense, it’s also painfully obvious that Junghwa is unlike that of any other. All that’s on Junghwa’s head at the moment is getting her thoughts said and heard, and not even her very own being can top that priority. So pressing your lips, you figure Hani’s right—like always—and the well being of your best friend is more important than answering a few questions. Reluctantly and ever so slowly, you retract your hands from her lips, the absence of her voice’s vibration immediately leaving your hand empty of sensation.

The second your hands unclasp from her mouth, thus letting her words loose, Junghwa desperately gasps for air before, unsurprisingly, blurting out yet again in an all too ear-spitting manner, “or is he returning because of you? Did you make some sort of deal with him?! Y/N, why didn’t you tell us? You need to tell us—”

“—shh,” you hiss, immediately and strategically placing your middle finger against your lips to hush her back into silence. Eyes wide and alert, you hastily glimpse around to check for any possible bystanders dropping in on your conversation. When all coast is clear, everyone too busy chatting away with their friends and loading their additional luggage onto the bus, you shoot a death stare straight at your friend who gulps in terror. “Are you trying to turn this trip into hell before it even starts? I know it might come as a surprise to you, but I don’t want anyone spreading rumors about Hoseok and I!”

“I know,” Junghwa pouts and grabs ahold of your hand only to sway it side to side, as if to win you over with pity. “I’m sorry… I won’t do it again. I promise!”

“That’s what you said last time.”

“I swear I’m serious! Curiosity just got the best of me this time around,” Junghwa cheekily smiles. “If someone happens to hear us, I’ll treat you out for dinner. Better yet, I’ll confess to Jimin or anyone you want and make a fool of myself, yeah? Mm?”

“You don’t even like Jimin!” you refute, appalled by her lackluster offer.

“Oh, you know how she is, Y/N,” Hani laughs, rolling her eyes. “At least no one has ever really paid attention to her yelling. Plus, I really am curious as to why he’s back. How did you convince him to join today? I thought he always stayed at least a mile’s distance from anything related to dance.”

A hard thump hammers against your chest when the answer to her question echoes in your mind and rests on the tips of your tongue. A kiss. You exchanged his attendance this morning for a kiss; but there’s no way you’re going tell your friends something as embarrassing as that, especially seeing how they had taken the news of your previous dates with Hoseok. However, judging by how fervently your lips burn of the apparition of his soft lips pressed up against them, you convince yourself you’ve already given the answer away.

“Hey, we’re just about done here,” a familiar voice melts in your left ear like honey as a heavy arm swings over your shoulder and pulls you into his side. You glance up to find Hoseok raising a brow at your two friends, “oh, I’m sorry, but I don’t quite seem to recognize…”

His words trail off, and for some reason you think you can see a flash of the old dance captain resuming his courteous, welcoming ways; hence, unbeknownst to you, a smile gradually stretches across your lips. While you’re stuck in your reverie, Junghwa and Hani’s head snap towards each other, eyes widening and words failing to leave their gaping mouths as looks of admiration and awe oozes from the glistening windows to their souls. The ogling eyes of theirs nearly evokes a snort from the back of your throat, because finally, finally they can first-handedly witness the melting charms of Hoseok and actually understand the reasonings behind your recent irrational actions. But then their eyes dart to you once again, lips formulating silent threats and teeth gritting like a desperate call for your help.

As much as you’d like to blame your lack of a response to your friends’ plees solely on your short-lived trance of catching the returning glimpse of your long-time crush, a part of you just knows the truth lies in the satisfaction of observing the petrified look on your friends’ faces. Is this the look you had plastered all over your face when they made fun of you for your crush on Hoseok? Was this the mirror image of your state of panic when Junghwa nearly exposes your “relationship” with Hoseok to the entire class? Just recalling the pain your friends had put you through endorses you to sit back and relax as you watch karma do its work.

“...new recruits?” Hoseok chirps after a few seconds of silence, quirking a brow and flashing a clueless, lopsided grin. “Did Jimin actually manage to acquire new members while I was gone?”

“Actually no,” Hani quickly blurts, shaking her head violently, “we’re not a part of the club.”

“Oh?” Hoseok cocks his head, glimpsing at you in confusion before returning his eyes to Hani when you only stand in silent amusement. “Sorry, my bad. So what are you two lovely ladies doing here then?”

Did he just call them lovely? In front of you? With his arm wrapped around you and his recently numerous flirtatious advances on you? Even though you have no idea why you’re so irked in the first place, there’s something about his smooth, charismatic ways that tugs at your heartstrings in the rather painful manner for once.

Unbeknownst to you, a twitch of your face is evident enough to your friends and Hoseok for them to jolt in place, petrified over whatever fiery hazard scorches from within the vicinity of your glare. And unlike your friends who take a step back and glimpse at each other for help, the boy beside you only pulls you in even tighter until your head has nowhere to rest but against the calm, warm beats of his chest.

“Uh,” Junghwa utters, eyes popping when she notices Hoseok’s firming embrace.

“We’re just sending Y/N off,” Hani finishes her friend’s sentence and averts her panicked gaze back to you as you narrow your eyes at the audacity of Hoseok.

“Well that’s nice of you two. So that’s where Y/N gets it from,” he muses before continuing, “are you sure you two don’t wanna join? I’m sure we have enough space left to accommodate for you two.”

“Oh no, we couldn’t—

“—well actually, we wanted to but Y/N forced us not to because she was ‘embarrassed’ or something—ow!” Hani nudges her elbow straight into Junghwa before she can mutter another word.

Hoseok turns his head at you with warmth radiating from his dark chocolate orbs and the most suggestive of smirks tugging on the corner of his lips, “and what does that mean, Y/N?”

You freeze. You don’t know why or how or when, but for some reason your body’s immediate response to his gaze locking with yours is to drop everything and freeze. Heart panicking, hammering, and nearly stopping, you completely forget your friends are watching just a few feet away—

“—we didn’t bring any money for club dues and trip fees,” Hani quickly comes to the rescue, shooting you a subtle smile, and for once, you’re actually glad that your friends are here to support you in the wake of Hoseok’s impact.

“Oh, that’s fine. Any friend of Y/N’s is welcome with or without dues. I’d rather gain two new recruits than lose the opportunity to because of a few bucks or so. Plus, our club has more than enough funds to cover your fees for now,” he quips, cleverly interjecting before Hani can provide a rebuttal, “you don’t really think I’m letting you off the hook, do you? Nah, what kind of a captain would I be if I did that? You can pay me back afterwards.”

“That’s very kind of you, but…”

“...or your friend here can pay for you,” Hoseok smiles smugly, pointing his thumb to the side and at you. Traumatizing your lips and paying twenty five bucks to humiliate yourself for the sole sake of potentially watching Hoseok dance again were already too high of stakes to pay in the first place, so all you can do in response to his absurd suggestion is gawk at him in disapproval.

“She’s the last person who would do that,” Junghwa grumbles.

Hani nudges Junghwa once again, “I’m sure Y/N is going to have lots of fun at camp… although I do worry if she’s going to be alone—”

“—I’ll be fine—”

“—don’t worry, she’s in good hands,” Hoseok cuts in with a wide grin, arm firmly gripping your right shoulder and pulling you even closer into him.

“...what do you think you’re doing?” you finally mutter through gritted teeth. Your friends hesitantly exchange and dart glances between the two of you as they watch the narrowing of your death stare.

“What? This?” he pats his hands on the side of your arm and pulls you in once again, cocking a brow at you to feign innocence. “You didn’t seem to mind skinship last week? Or are you shy about PDA?”

Your jaw slacks open in sync with your friends. Did he really just say that? In front of your friends? So much for having fun and saving the embarrassment for later on in the trip.

“I don’t know what you’re saying…” you mutter, snaking your hand behind his back and tugging on his shirt to signal for him to stop… which he doesn’t.

“Oh c’mon, you couldn’t have forgotten already, Y/N!” Hoseok chimes, and his grin grows wider and wider as he watches your cheeks burn a brighter shade of red by the second. He cocks his head and begins listing the events of that night which still burns so fervently in the back of your mind, “fridge… bet… tabletop… ki...tchen.”

The second to last syllable nearly evokes a heart attack from your already weak condition, thousands of needles piercing straight through your chest as you glimpse at your friends; luckily for you, it seems like they haven’t caught onto anything yet, for they’ve never worn a more confused look than they are now.

Hoseok only grins in amusement before proceeding to his grand finale, “ki—hey!”

The smug look on his face is wiped and replaced by utter shock. He gawks at you with eyes wide and mouth open the second his brain registers the fact that you had just pinched him as hard as you could from the back.

“...kinda have to go help out Jimin and the others. Yeah, that’s what I meant to say,” Hoseok chuckles after a few seconds of bewilderment, turning to flash one last smile at your friends and waving them goodbye. “I’m sorry but I don’t believe I ever got your names…?”

Your two friends just stand there in what you’re unsure to make out as either fright for the scene that just played before them or in awe over the radiant sight of his killer smile—or perhaps, a mix of both. Hani’s slouched shoulders suddenly straighten upright the second she snaps back into reality and checks up on her friend, whom had failed to escape her trance. She stutters, “H-Hani, I’m Hani, a-and this is Junghwa.”

“Right. It was nice meeting you, Hani and Junghwa. I promise you I’ll look over Y/N, even if she refuses to accept my help and assaults me with acts of violence. And remember, I know it might be boring without me as the captain, but it’s never too late to join the club,” he sing-songs, voice velvety and soothing like always but his last statement leaves you frowning even more so than the former.

He’s resuming his role as the dance captain, and yet at the same time he’s rejecting the permanence of such a task and even foreseeing his absence in the near future. You know you’ve been too greedy and too needy for the fulfillment of your dreams, but somehow along the way you had lost sight of reality. While the past Hoseok brought you into cloud nine where things like stress and school were of trivial matters, the present Hoseok slams you straight back into reality where not everything always goes your way.

Only a comforting, firm pat against your right shoulder is enough to bring you out of your daze as you glance up to find Hoseok making his way to the bus with his front half turned towards you. “I know it’s hard to contain your excitement, but at least try to spend a few more minutes with your friends, Y/N. Don’t take too long though, or even I’ll have to leave you behind,” he quips, calling out to you before winking and biting his lips—as if trying to hint at something, no, you just know he’s hinting at that very thing which still doesn’t fail to flood heat into your cheeks—and turning his back on you to jog up the steps, disappearing behind the black tinted windows of the bus.

“I hate the living hell out of him. I hate the living hell out of him. I hate the living hell out of him,” you repeat, reminding yourself once again of the treacherous bet you had so regrettably made. Sighing, you turn to face your friends once again only to jump in place out of shock when your friends glare at you with the most dead eyes and stern frowns.

“Girl, you have a lot to explain when you get back,” Junghwa crosses her arms.

“...yeah, I know,” you timidly laugh, reclining as you scratched the back of your head when Junghwa continues to narrow her eyes at you for your lack of an explanation.

“That guy’s dangerous. I knew he was good looking, but wow, in person?” Hani shakes her head. “He knows his ways with words. Charming. Too charming. You better be careful, Y/N.”

“...yeah, don’t worry. I’m not a fool. I might’ve liked him before, but there’s no way I still do with him being like that now,” you mutter, and out of the blue, your only source of transportation roars in place behind you as if to remind you of the quickly approaching departure time. “Okay, I really have to go now.”

Despite how hard Junghwa had been staring at you, she does a complete 180 turn when she pounces on you along with Hani, “I’ll miss you so much. Don’t go! Don’t leave me for a man! But if you have to, at least tell us what happens!”

“Make sure to call us every night, okay?” Hani says before quickly adding, “and be careful! Don’t ever leave yourself alone with a boy like Hoseok!”

“Alright, alright,” you chuckle, words muffled as they nearly choke you in the bear hug. After what seems like eternity, you finally retract yourself from your nearly sobbing friends and wave them one last goodbye before running up the steps into the bus and away from the partially cloudy forecast of the morning.

Now the real torture begins; it's like highschool all over again—finding an empty seat without looking like a longer or bring too out of place.

“Sorry, this seat is reserved for someone,” you hear someone say in the deepest yet softest of tones.

Glancing over to the very back of the bus where the courteous voice had struck you as familiar, you find a girl apologizing to Hoseok before scampering forward to the seat next to whom you presume to be her friend. Word must've gotten out that the Jung Hoseok was making his return to dance with this camping trip, because whether for the better or worse, it doesn't take very long for the next girl to approach him.

“Oh my God, I can't believe you're actually back! I've always loved watching you practice!” the petite girl exclaims.

Hoseok presses a smile in response, “thanks.”

“Um… can I sit here if this seat isn't taken?”

“Sorry but I'm actually saving this seat for my friend,” he softly repeats himself, craning his neck up to give one last apologetic smile from his seat and to the standing girl.

Tch, lucky him, you scoff to yourself, being Mr. Popular With Girls must have its perks in social gatherings like this. People like you, on the other hand, have to deal with being on the worse end of the stick.

So you shuffle your way through the chattering cliques seated primarily at the front, never-minding the glaring open seat next to Hoseok as you make your way to just a few rows ahead of his in a successful search for another seat; but before you're even able to sigh in relief and plop into your temporary home for the next six hours, a hand clasps onto the crook of your elbows and grips your arm firmly enough to pull you into another seat. A yelp leaves your lips as you stumble backwards in a vain attempt to regain your footing, and before you even know it, you find yourself in another seat at the very back of the bus.

“This seat is actually reserved for you,” the one and only Hoseok coos, and your heart undeniably skips despite the roll of your eyes.

“I didn't ask for you to reserve it for me.”

“Ouch,” Hoseok winces, “was that you rejecting me or you rejecting my friendly gesture?”

You shrug in a fruitless attempt to suppress your smile, “perhaps both. No, definitely both.”

“Then what was that supposed to mean?” Hoseok gasps and places a hand over his chest. “Are you leading me on?”

You scoff, “what was what supposed to mean?”

“You know,” he leans in to whisper, “our ki—”

“— alright fine, I'll sit with you,” you interject and slump into your permanent seat with a loud sigh. “Now can you stop bringing that up.”

“To think that you'd play me like this... you're breaking my heart, Y/N,” he fakes a whimper and frowns, shaking his head. “But whatever makes you happy.”

You snort at the irony of his words. Who's the one playing who? “Oh, quit it, will you? If being around me hurts you so much, then why aren't you sitting with Jimin and them?”

“Actually, there's nothing I like better than spending my time with you. See, I'll prove it to you.” Without warning, Hoseok’s right engulfs your left in and places it straight against his chest. You're caught off guard, jumping in your seat and rocketing your pulse at an all time high, but what surprises you most is the irregular pacing of the thumps against your hand. Maybe it's just you and your hopeless imaginations, but for even a split second you'd like to think he's being the genuine self he used to be for once. “You know, I actually prefer sitting alone on these trips.”

“...why?” you're barely able to utter when you realize your hand is still trapped between the warmth of his chest and his hand.

“I like listening to my own music and going through the routines in my head. It helps me focus for camp,” he explains before turning to wink at you, “but I'll make an exception for you.”

“Why…?”

It must be something about the way his hand holds yours so firmly in place or the way you're just practically melting in the gaze of his warm brown eyes, because a question you already know the answer to slips right through your lips. He had promised your friends to take good care of you, didn't he? He had seen you wandering through the crowd and bus like some lost child, didn't he? Man, you really must have appeared to be quite pathetic enough for him to reach out to you like this. So with your eyes down at the ground and your ears shut, you prepare for the embarrassment ahead of you.

“Didn't I just explain it to you?” Hoseok says lowly, and you glance up in curiosity. Your chest constricts when your eyes trail up to meet his. Your insides melt at the sight of his soft, lopsided smile, and you can't help but mentally squeal when you realize that his unmoving gaze has been observing you all this time. Then he makes his final blow, “I like being next to you.”

Pressing your lips into what seems to be a half smile half frown, you slowly retract your hands from his and into your lap before turning to face straight forward where Hoseok is no where in sight. But despite your efforts to keep your pulse under control, there's really nothing you can do to stop your heart from nearly jumping out of your chest and prevent the adrenaline from running through your wrist to your stomach to your legs; for the rest of the ride, you find yourself distracted in one way or another.

First, you somehow find yourself sharing an earbud with Hoseok. He shares his favorite playlist of tracks to freestyle to, humming and counting to the beats, and even goes as far as to show you the tracks he plans to share with Jimin to use for the upcoming showcase. It's silly for you to extrapolate any meaning beyond the simple sharing of an earbud for the sole sake of killing time, yet you can't help but acknowledge the fluttering of butterflies in your stomach when you steal glimpses of your old crush as he walks you through the technicalities of a routine. He drones on and on for hours about a world close to him, a world of flow and deep appreciation which nearly no one but him could reach, however, even sitting there and being forced to listen to this boy who never ceases to tease you is enough to make this entire trip before it even begins. There’s something about the way passion just oozes from his eyes as he talks about the love of his life reminds you that this is the boy you fell for.

The second thing that keeps you on your toes is when you suddenly find yourself draped in his oversized sweater. It’s an all too familiar scene, a scene that has occurred one too many times, but it’s not like you had wanted it or hoped for it to happen… did you? Having forgotten how cold buses tend to keep the temperatures at, you had regrettably opted to stuff your one and only jacket into your bags—now thrown several dozens of feet under you—and unknowingly put yourself in this situation. 

While everyone around you continued to chatter and laugh at the most disruptive of volumes amongst themselves, completely undisturbed for they had jackets to protect them from the blasting AC, you were suffering in your chair trying to keep yourself from shivering and exposing yourself to the watchful Hoseok; but alas, he was and is always able to see right through you. Seeing you curled up into a ball, you had heard Hoseok half snorting half chuckling before removing his hoodie in one swift motion and plopping it straight onto your head. 

The sudden warmth of his worn sweatshirt resonates off your freezing cheeks, your bare nape of the neck, and down your shuddering back, but those newfound comforts aren’t enough to keep you from turning around to frown at him with furrowed brows questioning the intent behind such actions. He just smiles that smug smile of his before patting your head and remarking, “I don’t know if you’re actually cold or if you’re acting out to steal another one of my sweaters again, but you should put it on before you freeze to death. Can’t have any casualties under my watch, especially not you.”

The third and last thing you remember from the long bus ride, six hours of pain that for some reason you wish could’ve lasted forever, is the intoxicating scent of him radiating from the sweater engulfing you from within. Reclining in your seat, the collar of his sweater rises just enough to cover your neck, lips, and tip of your nose from the harsh winds circulating throughout the bus, but burying your nose in the inside of his cotton sweater only magnifies his clean, spice cologne mixed with the scent of home. You can’t believe you actually accepted his offer, but what petrifies you even more is the fact that you might just pass out right in front of Hoseok. As if witnessing the return of the ex dance captain isn’t enough, sitting right next to him with your arms brushed against his and an ear sharing the same set of headphones while wearing and drowning yourself in his scent is like the ultimate blow against your weak heart.

Subconsciously, you mumble aloud—whether to yourself or to Hoseok, you don’t know—and squeeze your heavy eyelids shut to black out everything around you, “I feel really light-headed for some reason…”

You can’t see him with your eyes closed, but the shuffling beside you allows you to envision him scooting closer and leaning forward to check up on you with worry plastered all over the frown on his face. “Are you okay? Are you still cold? Or do you need to take some medicine?”

“No, I’m fine. I just need to… take a nap—hey,” you nearly yelp when you feel his rough, warm hand cupping your right cheek to gently push your head onto his shoulders. Your eyes shoot wide open and your heart rate escalates as you scan through the bus for any witnesses. Finally, when all coast is clear, you hiss, “what’re you doing?”

“Go ahead. Nap,” he instructs, patting your cheek before leaning his own head against the top of yours. “Don’t worry, we’re in the back. No one’s going to see.”

Even in the blizzard that is the blasting AC, your cheeks never fail to burn a bright shade of red as every inch of contact between your body and his begins to flush of heat and thrill. You want to pull away, to deny the indisputable comfort of his shoulders, but you’re simply too tired to argue. So before you know it, pitch blackness surrounds you and the yells of the others drown into the background where the sound of Hoseok’s counting and humming echoes akin to that of the night where you had first introduced yourself to Hoseok long ago.

-

You are dreaming, right?

No, this must be a dream; because the very first thing your still blurry, half-asleep mind comes to register—that is, after gathering your bags and settling into your temporary room before leaving for the welcoming event like a zombie—is the fact that the Jung Hoseok is standing in front of the dance studio and leading tonight’s practice.

The studio lights hanging from the high ceilings above give off warm, yellow edges to your already blurry vision. The cleanly waxed wooden floor squeaks with every sharp step of his as he gives a quick demonstration to the daily stretching routine every member must undergo before practice. Decked out in the all too familiar, albeit retired, attire of his—black sweater, black joggers, and black pair of sleek sneakers with the occasional headband he had opted out of tonight—you simply can’t believe your eyes. This is everything you’ve been dreaming for. You just want to see him dance again, and here he is… closer to dancing than he has ever been in the last year.

It’s all too surreal. Really, your gut instincts tell you this is all too surreal to believe in.

“I know this isn’t the exciting stuff I’m sure everyone of you came here for,” he sarcastically remarks, and you wonder if he’s well aware of the real reason for the spike of female recruits attending this camp for the sake of meeting him, “but it’s important that you learn how to properly stretch and prepare your body for the impact that comes with dancing.”

“How long are we going to be stretching, Hoseok?” a girl whines.

It takes everything in you not to scowl at the girl for her interjection. While you’ve risked everything from your dignity to your sanity to get to experience this first-hand, she’s piggybacking off of your efforts only to threaten the slim opportunity that you’ll even get to see Hoseok dance again in the first place.

Hoseok continues stretching, neither affected nor amused by her remark before lowly stating, “a few minutes goes a long way.”

“Yeah, but we want to dance,” a boy calls out.

“We want to see you dance,” another girl adds.

God, any second longer now and you swear you’re going to cuss them out; do they want to see him dance or not?

“You won’t be saying that when you pull a muscle,” Hoseok simply states, switching to stretch his other leg before shooting a stern look at the rows and columns of students lined up and following his every move. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him more irked than this, because a chill runs down your spine the second you find the darkening of his eyes settling on one particular girl only to threaten and etch his next two words into the back of her mind for the rest of eternity, “trust me.”

You figure dance practice really must be a serious matter to him, because you’ve never seen him go so long without cracking a joke or even comforting a student he had accidentally rebuked—which is odd now that you think about it, since that’s the exact opposite of what he had been known for back in his days as the captain; but maybe you just didn’t know him well enough in the past, perhaps his passion for dance is much stronger and takes a much more different approach than you had observed on the surface level.

It’s not exactly a turn-off per say, because you do find his passion honorable in every way, but there’s something about the frown on his ever-so-slightly downturned lips and the crease between his brows that tells you something is off. Does he actually despise dance as much as he had claimed? Your mind wanders off wondering if bringing him here is the right decision after all.

“Y/N, if you want to see me dance, then you better not space out.”

You’re thrown straight out of your trance when your head snaps up to find Hoseok staring straight at you.

“We’re on the right leg now,” he presses a smile, cocking his head at the fact that you’re still stretching your left arm. Your entire face turns red as you hastily plop yourself down to the ground and stretch your left before your right leg out in front of you. Hoseok only snorts, “alright, because of Y/N, we’re just going to hand this off to Jimin to teach you the choreo now. I have something else to do.”

“What?!”

“No, you can’t do that!”

“You promised you’d be leading tonight’s session!”

A dozen protests come tumbling from the students, a majority of them being female fans, but then all eyes start glaring at you as if you’re the actual reason Hoseok is skipping out on the actual dance portion of the practice. You nearly jump in your seat, wanting to dig a hole for you to hide yourself in when everyone throws you a few death stares. To be honest, you’re completely satisfied with seeing Hoseok even associating himself with the dance club right now, but it seems like others had a separate standard of satisfaction than you.

Hoseok intently observes the scene playing out between you and the girls before clearing his throat and sighing, “on second thought, I have a few minutes to spare.”

You can hear a collective gasp echo throughout the room. A loud cheer then erupts, and you actually find yourself smiling at his announcement despite being the most hated person in the room for a split second.

“But I’m only introducing the simple parts tonight,” he adds and a mixed reaction filled with cheers and whimpers follow shortly afterwards.

Was he going out of his way to indulge in an activity you know he’s been avoiding all too well in order to save you from the others? Or was he doing this because he genuinely had a change of heart? You figure the questions don’t matter at this point, because you’re beyond ecstatic. You might not agree in the methods others had attempted to utilize in pushing him back into his role as the captain, but you do agree in terms of the end goal point. Just seeing him lead a group through stretches is enough to make this entire trip, but seeing him lead a group through actual routines and choreographs? You think you’re on cloud nine. You’re selfish for pushing him into something he claims to despise to the very bone, but after calling you out and teasing you in front of everyone, you like to think you deserve at least this.

You just want to see him dance again, and nothing else matters but that.

-

Hoseok was serious when he said he was only teaching the most simple of choreographs, because even you were able to get through it all without tripping or falling or spacing out like you usually would. After just five minutes or so, he was prepared to switch out with Jimin when Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook ultimately decided on ending the first day of practice early and heading off to dinner.

So here you are, somehow finding yourself seated across where Hoseok had sat just a few minutes prior before excusing himself from the table and next to the rest of his old group of friends.

“Where did Hoseok go?” Jungkook finally questions, stuffing himself with one or two potstickers.

“Probably went back to his room,” Jimin shrugs. “He doesn’t seem to be in a good mood today.”

“Do you know why…?” you hesitantly ask and finish the last speck of food on your now empty plate.

“No idea,” the boy you learn to be Namjoon quips. “Maybe he’s just tired and not used to camp anymore.”

“Maybe,” you mumble, pursing your lips when the image of the irritated look on Hoseok’s face before he left dinner early. Placing your plate and utensil onto the table, you push your chair back and stand upright, “I think I’m going to head back to my room now.”

“Already?” Jimin’s eyes widen, neck craning to look up at you in surprise.

“Yeah, my legs are already so sore from practice.”

“You know we have a complimentary pass to the spa at this resort, right?” Taehyung adds.

“Oh?” you’re genuinely intrigued by the idea of soaking in a hot tub after hours of being drenched in sweat.

“Yeah, feel free to use that if you’d like,” Jimin grins. “I’d go now before everyone heads there after dinner.”

“Alright, thanks. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, then!” you wave them goodbye before skipping off to your room to change into your bathing suit and happily scampering to the paradise that waits for you at the spa…

...unfortunately for you, that paradise doesn’t turn out to be quite what you had envisioned it to be, for the fact that it’s a public spa and not a private one reserved for you hits you right in the face when you see him sitting right there in the pool of water in front of you.

“It seems like fate really wants us to be together,” Hoseok quips, the absence of playfulness and effort in his usual teasing raising a question of worry from you once again.

“Psh, as if,” you scoff, turning around and ready to march off in the other direction if he hadn’t interjected.

“It’s okay, I’ll leave and you can stay if you’re that shy about seeing me half naked,” he rises from the water, and your mind goes completely blank when they register his words.

You weren’t even thinking about seeing his bare chest, but now that he’s mentioned it, that’s all your eyes can even see. His abdomens are as toned and defined as you had imagined them to be for an ex-dancer, and they’re just as tan and smooth as honey which matches the tone of his sun-kissed skin. You don’t know if it’s the steam of the water which causes your cheeks to burn for the hundredth time today, but something about the accuracy in his statement challenges you to rebuke his claims.

So instead of denying nor accepting his offer, you plop down into the euphoric heat of the water and submerge yourself until your chin hits the surface of the water. “No, it’s fine. You can stay or leave. It doesn’t matter to me because your body is the last thing I’m thinking about.”

“Really? Doesn’t seem like it when you just stared at me for a good minute or two,” Hoseok coos, sitting back down with his arms resting on either side of the circular pool. “So, what you up to?”

“Sitting in here and trying to get a good hour of relaxation for once.”

“Whoa, my bad,” he raises his hands defensively with a slight chuckle. “Sassy as always, I see.”

You know you said you wanted an hour of relaxation, but the minutes of silence that follows shortly after is deafening. It’s odd for it to be so quiet around Hoseok, the Jung Hoseok who always teased you to your nerves’ ends. Something is most definitely odd about tonight. You don’t know when it started or how it started, but it’s the things that he chooses not to partake in rather than partake in that startles you. Maybe tonight he had started to dance again, but there are countless other things he had sacrificed in return.

He’s no longer as lively, playful, and easy going as he used to be. While the past Hoseok had been a combination of all these traits even with the passion and dedication for dance, this is yet another reminder to you that this isn’t the same boy you had loved; but even so, even if this person isn’t the one you so wish for the return of, you can’t help but worry for the boy you’ve actually come to know.

“...I’m happy to see you dancing again,” you finally say. Hoseok lowers his head and gaze from the night sky to look at you—neither surprised nor intrigued, just empty. Your brows furrow at the lack of a reaction and you quickly add, “is something wrong?”

“What makes you ask that?” the monotonous tone in his voice only pushes you further.

“Just answer the question. You’re acting… strange... today. Ever since practice,” you shake your head and frown. “Is it because of dancing? Should I not have forced you to come?”

“You didn’t force me to come. You didn’t force me to do anything,” he says before looking off to the side; the harsh edge in his voice tugs at you in the most aching way you had never known to be possible with someone like the current Hoseok.

“Fine, if you’re gonna be like that, then let’s play a game. You like games, don’t you? That’s the only way I can ever get you to talk or open up or do anything,” you retort and Hoseok only raises a brow. “We’ll take turns asking each other questions. If the other fails to answer to our satisfaction, and you have to be honest, then we get to do whatever we want with the other.”

“Y/N wants to play games? Am I dreaming?” Hoseok cocks a brow.

“Trust me, I feel like I’m the one dreaming. It’s not like I want to play games, especially not with you, but it seems like it’s the only way I can get you to talk,” you say, shaking your head. “Okay, I’ll start first then. Tell me what’s going on. Why are you so upset? Is it something that I did?”

“That’s more than one question, Y/N.”

“Okay, fine,” you scoff. “Did I do something to upset you?”

“No,” he simply answers, eyes looking straight at you before adding more to complete his answer, “well, maybe a little. I don’t know how I can answer that accurately when even I’m not sure. You’re not the main reason, but now that you have become a part of the reason, I guess it only adds to the fire.”

That’s the most vague answer you had ever heard in your life, but to be fair, you had only asked him whether or not you had done something to upset him. He isn’t obligated to answer what you had done, and plus, the intense look in his eyes warns you to better play by the rules.

“Alright, fine. Good enough. You pass. Your turn.”

His fingers tap against the poolside, but his piercing eyes never leave yours.

After what seems like an eternity of silence, he speaks, “are you happy to see me dancing again?”

You frown and raise a brow, “of course…? Yes, I’m beyond ecstatic—”

—your words are cut off when he stands upright and takes one large stride to the other end of the pool where you sat, and the next thing you know, his lips smashes into yours. And unlike the last kiss you had shared with him, this one is much more forceful. He’s impatient, he’s twisting and turning and pushing like he’s running out of time, his hands snake to wrap around your back and pulls you in until the two of you are chest-to-chest.

Somehow, you manage to pull away for a split second, “Hoseok, what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m dissatisfied with your answer, Y/N,” he states before pushing you into him once again and collides his lips with yours.

Your head is dizzy and you can barely get enough oxygen each time he pulls away for a split second to give you some time to breathe, but there’s something about the haste in his movements, the impatience in his pulls and pushes, and the look in his eyes that’s screaming for help that tells you this kiss isn’t about passion or lust or anything like that; it’s about desperation and the most twisted way to express the sorrow that resides with him. And even though he isn’t playing by the rules of the game, there’s a part of you that sympathizes with him, for your heart drops at the mess of emotions his wet, sloppy kiss conveys to you.

Maybe he isn’t answering your questions with words, but there’s no doubt that he’s opening up to you more than he ever has before.

Finally, you put a hand against his chest and push him an arm’s distance away before managing to say in the midst of heavy breathing, “I don’t get it, Hoseok. I’m confused. You’re acting out. You’re… different.”

“How is this any different from the last time I kissed you?” he refutes with knotted brows.

“No, there’s something wrong,” you shake your head. “What’s wrong, Hoseok? Please, just let me help you.”

“Then answer my question correctly,” he says, calling out to you as he watches you get up and depart from the poolside. “That’s all you can do right now.”

“Am I happy to see you dancing again?” you repeat the question, grabbing and wrapping a towel around you from a table. “I don’t know… not if this is how you’re going to act, then no, I’m not. But I was happy to see you so immersed in dancing again earlier today. I just want to know if… you’re happy...?”

Something flickers in the dark ditch within his eyes, and after a long deafening silence, he finally answers.

“Yeah…” he finally answers with his eyes at the other side of the pool where you had just sat before drowning himself back into the pool, “I guess I’m happy too.”

[th0mas1ut]

🎄ᴀ ʜᴀɪᴋʏᴜᴜ ᴄʜʀɪsᴛᴍᴀs: ᴅᴇᴄᴇᴍʙᴇʀ 19th

´･ᴗ･` “ "why are you bonking yourself in the head with an empty wrapping paper tube?" ” + “because it's fun!”

a/n: i want to have his babies i’m so soft for kita it’s official i’m a kita lovebot hmu in the ask box or fill out this form to be tagged also like and reblog if you enjoyed this to spread the christmas cheer! (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

+ christmas tags form: @fee-btheweeb + @justifiedtoast​ + @bokutosimper9000 + gen tag form: @trifliz​

<3   gen tags; ask box; masterlist

you almost let out a shriek as you ripped the wrapping paper for the third time.

it was the holiday season; which meant wrapping presents for friends and family. more importantly, kita's grandma: one of the most sweetest people you had ever met in your entire life. the first time you had met her, after kita has requested you come over for dinner, you'd barely walked into the house before she had wandered right over to you, crossing her arms behind her back as if to analyze you. you'd frozen in your steps, terrified that one of the important people in kita's life was about to send you away, when she'd let out a hearty laugh while taking your soft face in her wrinkly, aged hands and beaming at you with a joy that made your insides double over with relief.

"look at you!" she'd cried with an old, drawn out accent. "so beautiful... kita, you better marry her quickly, ok?" you could feel the heat rising to your face from that last sentence, unable to look at kita or his reaction.

you heard a soft laugh behind you, and a happier voice that followed.

"obaachan..."

though you knew his grandma was just teasing the both of you, he sounded almost delighted at her immediate blessing. after she'd pinched and kissed both cheeks, you turned to look at kita with your bright red face, looking quite bashfull, though it was nothing compared to the warm fondness he was feeling while looking at you in that moment, like remembering that you're the sun.

it was why you needed to make this christmas perfect. even though you knew kita's grandma loved you like her own, and you loved her like your own grandmother, you needed kita to know how special his whole life was to you, including volleyball, and his family, and his dedication to routine - something you couldn't help but begin to follow as well, after dating him for so long - you were just starting to get your shit together because of him.

"urrrrgh!"

you let out another groan, the ripped wrapping paper clenched in your fist. the tea set you had purchased had gone through at least three or four different wrapping papers, but you just weren't able to tape the corners right. the paper was sticking out in weird angles, and you had already finished one wrapping paper roll. you had more, but...

you began to whack yourself in the head out of frustration, extremely irritated at your incompetence. no amount of youtube videos was going making this any easier, as you'd tried already, and now you were suffering from a serious migraine, worsened by being hit by a thick cardboard tube.

"why are you bonking yourself in the head with an empty wrapping paper tube?"

the tube stopped in mid air, hovering over your red forehead as you slowly turned your head to gawk at kita. his hands were in his pockets, and he looked concerned as well as slightly amused. you wanted to burst into tears from the further frustration of not being able to hide his grandmother's gift from him either, so instead you just took a few deep breaths that made you look like you'd just run a marathon and then proceeded to laugh like a exhausted lunatic.

"because it's fun!"

kita looked at you with so much confusion that you couldn't help but explode into a fit of giggles at his face, astonished by your reason. you were always pretty straight forward with him, and he hadn't exactly ever seen you this close to a meltdown, so he decided to just walk on over to you and sit down next to you on the bamboo mat, eyeing the crumpled up tissue paper all over the floor. as much as he was tempted to clean this whole mess up, he instead took your face in his hands, rubbing at your cheekbones to console you. his genuine efforts made a mess of your heart, your body turning into mush in his hands as you crawled into his lap, desperate for touch. you wrapped your legs around waist as he rubbed at your back to console you, trailing soft kisses from your cheek down to your collarbone affectionately.

he looked up at you gently, craning your neck so he could read your eyes. "are you alright, love?"  

huffing, you pointed at the tea box you had gotten for his obaachan accusatorily, like you were accusing it of committing a murder. you had planned to keep it a surprise, but at this point you weren't going be able to transport the tea box without anyone seeing it if you couldn't cover it in wrapping paper.

"it's - i can't wrap presents." you admitted with haste, pouting at your struggle. "i've been trying to, i even watched some video on youtube; i don't get it."

kita hummed, looking sympathetic as well as thoughtful. "maybe think of it like folding something," he offered, gently moving you off of his lap as he reached for the box and another tube of wrapping paper ( you noticed he hadn't brought who the present was for yet - though you were sure he knew already ). he softly smiled as he slid the tea box right in front of him, fighting the greedy urge to lean over and kiss you earnestly; he was so touched at how much time you'd spend with his grandma, aware of exactly what she'd wanted this christmas. it was so touching, to know how you noticed all the little things, and he couldn't believe how much he loved you. you seemed oblivious to his inner thoughts, as your eyes followed his hands with wonder as they gently set the box on top of the wrapping paper and seamlessly set to work with the scissors and tape, making creases and folding perfect edges until it looked like something right out of a macy's display. you could feel your jaw slowly dropping in astonishment from the efficiency of it all, so jealous of him you were practically oozing your despair.

kita looked up at you, letting out an amused laugh at your reaction. he let out a sigh, taking your hand in his and pressing his soft lips against your skin, making you all mushy again. he was sure his grandma was going to love your present - and he knew that there wasn't anything more you could do to make him fall in love with you. you were perfect, and perfectly his.

"when will i be a great grandma, kita?"

"obaa-san!"

[kcrclrezni]

"Fine." Sturmhond takes a seat opposite Brekker, pulling the previously proffered plate closer to himself. "So much for my hospitality. In Ravka it's considered rude to not take food when it's offered, you know? Or maybe that's because I've never refused food. Nevertheless..." He pops a grape into his mouth and grins. "More for me."

Kaz Brekker's mood seems to sour more and more the longer he spends at sea. "I'd encourage you to spend some time above decks. It's good for your health, you know. You might even spot the sun, which seems to be a rare sight to see in Ketterdam. It's something to write home about!" But, yes of course, he wants to talk about the lock again. Lock this. Lock that. You'd be lost without me this. I'm the only person who can complete this job for you that. "How did you hear about the missing Grisha?" he asks, eyebrows raising. "I'd warn you not to trust everything you hear about Ravkan affairs on the streets of Ketterdam, but I wouldn't. I'd think you'd be smarter than that." He sits a little straighter, looking downright offended. "And me? Stuck? Never in my life."

"As you previously stated, I'm covering your transportation fees, your lodging, and meals, all of which happen to be provided by my ship. If you're so intent on raising your price, your accommodations may very well fall through. What are your thoughts on swimming the rest of the way to Ravka?"

@kcrclrezni — ❛ do you want to share this? ❜

he doesn't bother looking at the plate of food nikolai has brought from above deck. kaz hasn't slept since the job had begun and he wasn't feeling particularly hungry ( certainly there was a correlation there he'd chosen to ignore ) nor would the privateer's smile change his mind. ❝ you've hired me to pick a lock. ❞ he states the obvious, pointing to the diagram of a complex lock that even kaz had never seen before that lay out on the table before him. ❝ you've covered my transportation fees, my lodging, and meals. ❞ all things he'd bargained for when he'd learned the job would require him leaving ketterdam.

❝ i knew how to dismantle this lock the instant i looked at the diagram. ❞ he stares piercingly at nikolai, certain that he knew it as well. ❝ this is about the missing grisha, isn't it ? ❞ kaz pushes on without confirmation, ❝ two weeks ago, a small group of grisha in the northern region of ravka stepped into a cave and never came out. there was nothing in the cave to indicate where they had gone and with only one way in or out, you're baffled on where they disappeared. it's as though they were there one moment and then gone the next, vanished into thin air. ❞ he recites the intel with ease.

❝ you believe you've found a lead but you're stuck. you don't know how to reach it, and you think i might. so, ❞ kaz crosses his arms, ❝ my price has just gone up. ❞

[mandos-lightningbeforethunder]

Start Again - Chapter Three (Din Djarin x Reader)

SUMMARY: Din struggles internally with the loss of Grogu and finds work in the woman that employs him to find her son. 

CHAPTER WARNINGS: discussion of nightmares and discussion of child loss. 

Author’s Note: This chapter sits at about 2.5k words and is told from Din’s point of view. Feel free to reblog and comment :)

CHAPTER THREE - THE REMINDER

The first light from the twin suns peers through the open hatch of the Idrionna. Din briefly glances over at the girl, asleep in the cot he offered. Her face is peaceful, but he still remembers waking up to her crying out in her sleep earlier in the night.

She had mentioned her broken memories. When Din had first laid eyes on her, he could tell that she had been through hell and back. What kind of hell he didn’t know, but she had identified the dark saber on his belt. Most others he had come across hardly had a clue of what kind of weapon he was wielding. Even Din himself was unsure of the weapon. He only knew that Bo-Katan wanted it more than he did and yet she refused his offer to just take it from him.

It needed to be won in combat, he had been informed. At the same time, he was vulnerable. His Creed was broken, helmetless, and just having let go of Grogu. Bo-Katan only saw an opportunity in his time of weakness, and he needed to leave, to get some distance between the two of them. He wasn’t in the right state of mind to defend himself over some saber.

The girl mentioning her son only tugged at what he had just lost. He had promised himself he would move on, find work and throw himself into only work. Instead, he had seen the same look in her eyes that he had seen in himself. Desperation.

A change in her breathing caught his attention. She was waking up. She blinks, the light disturbing her.

“It’s dawn,” she says. Sitting up, she looks up at him, “I hope I didn’t disturb you last night?”

You did, Din thinks. It was no different than when Grogu was fussy during the night. Most of the time the kid just missed his company and Din would indulge him, even sleeping in his helmet to not break his Creed. He debates on whether it’s worth keeping his helmet on, Grogu had seen him without his helmet. Still, it’s his belief to honor his fallen brothers and sisters and to remain true to his Creed. Whatever was left of it.

Hearing her cries last night only made him debate it longer. Would she have even seen him in the darkness of the ship? Ask him to make the same choice a year and a half ago and he would’ve thought himself crazy. There were no exceptions to the Creed, he could not remove his helmet in front of a living thing, even in darkness. By the time he had made his choice to pull on his helmet, her cries had stopped, and she had settled the nightmare herself.  

“You didn’t,” he lies. “Did you…did you have a nightmare last night?”

“Yes,” she answers immediately, “I saw him again. He was younger this time. No more than three. I think it’s when his abilities started showing,” she trails off, distracting by the frayed fabric of her pants.

Din pauses. Abilities, a word he had used to describe Grogu’s unexplained powers. The Force, as Ahsoka had told him. Grogu was off receiving the training he needed to master his powers, to become a Jedi, like Ahsoka. And Luke Skywalker.

“Do you remember anything else?” he asks her. She shakes her head, and he nods. He wants to comfort her, he knows her pain, but he suppresses the feeling. He’s merely transportation and a high-end detective for her. She’s not looking for a therapist. “There’s a refresher just down that way, feel free to use it. Peli’s expecting us to leave soon. I’ll see if she has any information.”

She nods, scooping her belongings into her arms as she stands from the cot. He watches her go and the way she carries herself, the quiet pad of her feet disappearing down the hallway. He turns to walk to the center of the hanger, approaching Peli and her droids. She distributes a stack of cards amongst the group, before settling on her stack.

“Where you headed now, Mando?” the woman asks, licking her finger as she places a card down to start the game.

“I don’t know yet. She’s,” he pauses in his words, unsure of how else to describe the girl. “she’s seen some things. In her dreams. Says she has a son, somewhere out there. I’m not even sure where to start but—”

“She reminds you of the womp rat?” Peli finishes, licking her thumb as she lazily places a card down in the pile. “You know I miss him, used to keep me company when you were off doing Mando things…” she trailed off, mumbling to herself as a droid places a card down to counter her move.

He brushes off the comment on Grogu, instead focusing his attention on the girl. “The nightmares she describes, I think that’s just the beginning of something more.”

Peli hums at his statement. At first, Din thinks she’s only stringing him along, pretending to pay attention so she can focus more on her game. Then she sits back and places her cards down.

“Don’t peek,” she warns her pack of droids. “She sought you out for your help. You’re the bounty hunter here, there have probably been times you’ve found clues from worse situations.”

He watches as she marches to her office, digging around in her desk, searching for something. A quick look and it appeared to be a junk pile of old holopads and datacards. She finds what she’s looking for and shoves it in his direction.

Taking the datapad, he stares at the woman as she returns to her card game.

“Am I supposed to know what this is for?” Din asks, looking over it to examine if it’s usable or not.

“Datapad—”

“I know what it is, Peli.”

Unphased by his interruption, Peli continues, “she can use it as a journal, write down what she remembers from her dreams. Start adding the dreams together and you line up her memories. Why don’t you explain that to her right now?”

Din turns and the girl is approaching the small circle of droids. She looks better, the soot from Tatooine gone from her skin. He can see it in the way she walks toward the group that she seems to feel better. The travel alone most likely took a toll on her, who knew the last time she traveled between planets.

She’s still, however, wearing the same clothes she slept in. Something that resembled a poncho draped over her shoulders, covering a cotton shirt and protecting her from the twin suns. Worn work pants and leather boots. Din makes a mental note that more clothing may be good for her. The shops on Tatooine wouldn’t do, they’d need to find a more suitable planet for her traveling needs. It was good she traveled light, but the more Din thinks about it, she’s only traveling light because it’s all she has.

“Explain what?” she says, looking between Din and Peli.

Peli returns her focus to her cards, leaving the explaining to Din. He grumbles, glad that the vocoder doesn’t pick up on the noise. He glances at the girl’s confused expression before handing her the datapad.

“It’ll be good to log the nightmares you have. That way we can start to piece together what you do remember in hopes it will give us a clue on where to start.” Din explains, watching her as she tapped the screen, illuminating her face in blue.

“Okay,” the girl agrees, pulling the datapad close to her chest. “I sent a transmission to my friend back on Puvo, just to tell her I’m alright.”

Din can sense that the girl feels the need to explain her actions for everything she does. While he remains on edge for Bo-Katan, he isn’t worried by a simple transmission sent by the girl. It’s the only semblance of a family she seems to have, who is he to cut her off from that?

“Idrionna is all fueled up for your trip. Wherever that may be,” Peli mumbles the last part, setting down her stack of cards. The girl reaches into her pocket, pulling out that damn pouch of credits again.

He had counted the amount back in the Mos Eisley cantina. Half the credits alone could fuel his ship for a lifetime. The girl is willing to give away what’s equal to life savings. How she got that number of credits, he didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to let her just give it all away until she was left penniless. If she did have a son out there, he needed to make sure she still had credits left over to care for her and her son. 

“No,” Din says, his tone stern enough that the girl stops. “I already covered all the fees and I’m sure Peli wouldn’t miss the datapad.” One look at the woman and she shrugs, once again picking up her stack of cards and shuffling through them.

“Right,” the girl hums out. She turns to look at him, then follows as he makes his way towards the ship.

“There’s someone I need to speak to, on the planet Nevarro. Maybe on the way there, you can tell me more about your son. What you remember.” Din offers.

Cara Dune had access to all the New Republic’s data. Maybe she’d have something on the girl. He already had a name, and she couldn’t have been any younger than he was. Cara and he had certainly worked off less information. Even if there wasn’t anything, at least they could start a new record for her. There was even a possibility that her son could be in the same place as Grogu, training to be a Jedi. Given her lack of memories, however, and Din doubts that’s the case.

Idrionna’s flight deck is nothing like the Razor Crest. The controls still feel foreign to Din and it’s a reminder of how much he misses the latter ship. Similar in size and maneuverability, however, he’s just grateful that the ship isn’t falling apart or blown to smithereens.

The hum of the engines pulls his thoughts away. The girl sits next to him, her eyes following his movement as he prepares the ship for the hyperspace jump.

“Your son,” he says at first, unsure of how to start the conversation. “How old do you think he is now?”

The girl is quiet for a moment, watching him as he takes the control column of the Idrionna. The ship shifts as it pushes off the ground, the landing gear retracting. Peli and her pack of droids watch as the ship takes off into the Tatooine atmosphere.

“He can’t be more than fifteen or sixteen,” she finally replies. “He had to have been ten when I last saw him. My memories…they only show up to that point in his life. I get visions of him when he was younger but nothing about him being any older than ten.”

“Do you know…if his father was involved?” He finds himself asking the hard question. She had made zero mention of a father figure to her son. Was it because she didn’t remember that part in time or because there was no father involved.

He thought back to the widow Omera and how long it had been since he had last seen her. Now with a widow on his hands, maybe paying Omera another visit would do him good. He could only imagine the disappointment on Winta’s face when he did not bring Grogu with him.

“No. I—” the hitch of her breath startles him out of his thoughts. “I have no recollection of my son’s father. A part of me wants to think he was in our lives, but it’s like there’s tunnel vision when I have these nightmares. I see my son. Everyone else…it’s a blur.”

Din nods at her response. There’s a possibility of a father being out there, or at the very least, a record of his existence. He remains hopeful despite her answer, that even if he can’t find anything about her or her son, he could maybe find something about the father. These were the small victories Din saw in the girl’s words.

The jump into hyperspace is smooth, but the journey to Nevarro is long. It will be a while before they arrive at the volcanic planet. It would help Din get more information from the girl.

“They said they were searching for people, creatures, anyone who displayed these powers. The Force.” the girl says. The Force. It’s why Luke Skywalker had come searching for Grogu, having felt him through it at the Seeing Stone. It didn’t surprise Din that there may have been others searching for Force-sensitives.

“Who?” Din asks, curious. He had been a part of the population that lacked awareness of the ideology of Jedi and Sith. Life on the Outer Rim had given him that ignorance. Ahsoka Tano had been the first Jedi he had encountered in his entire lifetime and the second Jedi he ever met, Luke Skywalker, had been the one to take Grogu from him. All he had known previously about the Jedi was that they were enemies of the Mandalorians. Enemy sorcerers, he had previously called them. It had taken all of his trust to let Grogu leave with Skywalker, but he knew that Grogu would be able to thrive under the Jedi’s care.  

“In my nightmare, there’s three of them. Their faces are nothing more than a blur and their voices I don’t recognize but they came to my village. Everyone had heard of the defeat of the Empire and that a Jedi was making his way through the galaxy to recruit others like him.” She sighs, looking down at her hands.

Din can now focus his attention solely on the girl and her retelling with the ship on autopilot. Her face is troubled and he can see the frustration in her eyes as she tries in vain to recall the rest of the details in the nightmare, maybe the faces of the men, or something easier, like their voices.  

“When does it stop? The nightmare,” Din asks.  

“It’s the ignition of a lightsaber. I had followed one of them, leaving the other two behind me to watch him. It’s an unmistakable sound, the air around you vibrates with the blade. I don’t remember anything after that. Valara says they tortured me. Whoever they are, I’m not sure.” The girl’s voice grows timid.

The dark saber on his belt burns against his side. He turns to look at the blue streams of light in front of him, unsure of what to say to comfort her. Long before Skywalker had begun his search for force-sensitives, the Empire had already torn so many families apart. Now with the Empire gone, the balance of power was divided.

It’s exactly what brought Moff Gideon into Din’s life. Kidnapping Grogu from him and stealing a vile of his blood for future experiments. Din shuddered at the possibility of the same happening to the girl’s son. Din still remembers the fight with the Dark Troopers and Gideon. The dark saber is a burning reminder of what he had both lost and won that day.

“We’ll find him.” He assures her.

“I’ll hold you to it, Mando,” she chuckles. It’s the sparkle in her eye, however, that tells him she’s trying. That’s all that matters to him.

Read Chapter Four - The Truth here!

[labyrinth-runner]

yak who this is 😘 So ani and reader are undercover on a mission, and there’s some mutual pining, and they have to play a couple for this and i’ll let you decide from there

I AM SO SORRY THAT THIS HAS SIT HERE FOR AS LONG AS IT HAS.

It’s also like 4000 words for which I offer up no apologies.

No warnings apply. @workitholland

“The two of you will be sent to Corellia,” Mace Windu said without room for argument.

“Spy on the locals, you shall. Learn about the secret ship trading, you must,” Master Yoda said gravely. 

You cast a glimpse towards the Jedi Knight beside you. “If we are to spy, we cannot be seen as Jedi, I’m assuming.”

“No, you are not,” Mace replied, folding his arms. 

“Undercover, you shall go. The cover story, up to you it is. Find the information, you must. Details, we need not ask for,” Master Yoda said.

The Council stared at you in silence for a moment.

“I know this goes without saying, but your mission is secret. Tell no one,” Mace said in a serious tone.

“Yes, Masters,” you replied, bowing politely before excusing yourself from the room along with your new partner. 

You studied him as you exited the room, remembering how close you had been as padawans, having drifted since the war started and put you on different paths. That didn’t mean you hadn’t kept up with the man’s lucrative career. He was a Holonet star in his own right by now, a fact that was not lost on you.

“How are we going to go about this, Master Skywalker?” you asked, turning a keen eye on him.

He seemed to wither under your scrutiny for a moment before regaining his bravado, “You mean our cover stories?”

“We could be siblings,” you proffered.

“Or lovers,” he said with a sly smirk. “We could be on Corellia for our honeymoon.”

“It isn’t a very romantic destination,” you replied. “Pirates and thugs everywhere.”

“Romance can happen under any conditions,” he replied as he got to the transport that the Council had prepared for you. 

“Very well,” you sighed, but you couldn’t help the slight tinge of blush on your cheeks.

The two of you made your way up into the craft, settling in to pilot it. In order to remove suspicion, you were to make a series of jumps instead of flying straight from Coruscant. While in hyperspace, you found civilian clothes and changed. It felt strange to be out of your robes. They were as much a part of you as your lightsaber in a way, an outward expression of your devotion to the order. Looking in the mirror, you turned this way and that trying to alleviate some of the awkwardness you felt.

“You don’t look as bad as you think you do,” Anakin said.

You jumped at the sound of his voice, turning to see him leaning against the doorway behind you. “That’s easy for you to say. You didn’t always wear the robes.”

“No, but I find that the robes sometimes strip us of our individuality,” he replied, coming over to stand behind you. Gently he turned you back towards the mirror, resting a hand on your shoulders, “It downplays beauty and handsomeness in order to safeguard against pride. There is nothing wrong with the way you look.”

Meeting his eyes in the mirror, the moment felt charged. His hands on your bare shoulders were hot, making you wish for the layers of your robes to protect you from the intimacy of it all. “How long before we land?”

“We’ll be dropping out of hyperspace soon,” he replied, dropping his hands from your shoulders. “From there it’ll just be a short while until we touch down in the capital.”

You nodded, “Aren’t I lucky to have a husband who is such a good pilot.”

A playful smirk flitted across his face at your teasing. “Listen, angel, your husband is not just good. He’s the best.”

“A change of clothes for you could never hide your pride,” you shot back with a chuckle.

Anakin shrugged, the smile dropping from his face at your remark as he thought about how many times he’d been chastised by Obi-Wan for saying such things, “Many have tried.”

You watched as he walked out of the room, taking one last look at yourself in the mirror before joining him just as the ship dropped out of hyperspace.

The space in front of the planet was cluttered with ships.

“It’s almost as if they have a battle of their own,” you murmured as Anakin guided the craft through shipping lanes.

“It’s one of the busier ports in the galaxy. The fact that it’s also responsible for building a lot of ships probably doesn’t help the clutter,” he explained as he took the ship into the atmosphere.

You’d never been to Corellia before, and therefore didn’t know what to expect. It was as if there were a little bit of everywhere in the galaxy on one planet, visually. Having spent most of your time on Coruscant while you were growing up, it still felt odd to see cities that sprawled out instead of up.

As if it were almost second nature to him, Anakin gracefully landed the ship in a busy space port.

“Are you sure its safe to leave the ship here?” you asked as you glanced around at some seedy people eyeing up your ship.

“Well, unless you have a better idea,” he shot back as he got out of his chair.

A grimace settled on your face. “Just.... lock the ship up after we leave.”

Anakin rolled his eyes as the two of you left the ship and went towards town.

Your senses were overwhelmed when you stepped out onto the busy street. There were so many sights, smells, and sounds, not to mention people bustling and jostling you every which way. Anakin reached out to take your hand when the crowd started to separate the two of you.

“Stay close,” he said. “I don’t want to have to go looking for you.”

“R-right,” you stammered as you felt how warm and safe his hand felt around yours. “We should find lodgings.”

Anakin nodded and started to tug you down the street towards an inn. You were lucky enough that they had one room left. As you settled in for a meal, the two of you listened closely to the discussions around you.

“The group in the corner,” you murmured.

“What about them?” Anakin asked, tilting his eating utensil slightly to see the group in the silver.

“They’re pirates, talking about smuggling crafts. I heard them when I passed by earlier to use the refresher,” you murmured. “They also mentioned a race. It’s a front. The Hutt who sponsors the race takes possession of the winner. The fastest racer is then given a new ship and told to fly to a neighboring planet for a race that never happens. The pirates intercept the ship and sell it on the black market and the racers are never heard from again. The Hutt tells the people that they left Corellia to race in better places and were killed in a racing accident.”

Anakin’s eyes squinted as he studied them, “How often does this happen?”

“Once a year,” you replied, taking a sip of your soup. “If they did it any more often, they’d get suspicious.”

“And I’m assuming the ship the winner receives is whatever the latest model is from the shops,” Anakin murmured darkly.

“With the newest technology,” you replied. “Presumably it’s then sold to rival manufacturers who take the secrets and make their own versions. The Hutt is then sold the new ships at a cheaper price than what the Corellians would have charged, as well as given a bit of a bonus as a thank you for doing business.”

“Intellectual property theft isn’t exactly a crime we concern ourselves with,” he said thoughtfully.

“It is when the ships are currently being sold to the Separatists,” you shot back.

“When’s the race?” Anakin asked in amusement.

“Tomorrow,” you replied. “Why?”

“That should be enough time,” he said with a nod, getting up from the table.

“Enough time for what?” you asked incredulously.

He gave you a smile and a wink before leaving you alone at the table.

You sighed, “Why do I have a bad feeling about this?”

After gulping down the rest of your soup, you rushed back to the room the two of you were sharing and gave your report to the council.

“Very good,” Mace said. “See if you can find out more information about this year’s model, that way we can hope to figure out what new advances the Separatists will have. Then come home.”

“Yes, Master,” you said, bowing as the call disconnected.

The early morning rays streamed in through the window. You’d missed your opportunity to sleep, and Anakin was still missing. You sat on the only bed in the room as you contemplated how you would go about finding that new information when Anakin returned.

“Why are you covered in grease?” you asked as he headed towards the refresher.

“I was working on a ship,” he shrugged.

“There’s nothing wrong with our ship,” you said, getting up to follow him.

“I said a ship, not our ship,” he replied as he started to strip in front of you. 

You turned to the side to give him some privacy, your cheeks getting hot. “Anakin, what are you doing?”

“I can’t race without a ship,” he said as he stepped into the steamy column. “I can’t use ours in case it gets damaged.”

“You’re not racing, period,” you replied.

“I already paid the entrance fee,” he replied.

Your mouth fell open. “You can’t be serious.”

“I can win,” he shot back.

“That isn’t the point!” you replied with a groan before slamming the door shut and returning to your room. 

Your feet were insistent as they paced back and forth along the room waiting for him to come back out. When he finally emerged, you were all roiled up.

“Anakin, you cannot race. I forbid it!” you said finally.

His eyes narrowed at you, “Oh, you forbid it? Well, then I guess I’ll just stay here!”

You scoffed. “It’s dangerous, not to mention it’s not part of the mission. You don’t have to do this.”

“It’s racing, of course I have to! I’ll be fine. I’m doing this,” he said, pointing at you, “and you... you’re not my actual spouse. You don’t get to decide this. ”

“Of course I’m not your actual spouse,” you shot back, “Like this farce of a relationship could actually work out in the real world. You’re too impulsive and you don’t think about any of the consequences of your actions. Or who you hurt.”

“I don’t care what you think,” Anakin looked as though you had stricken him. “The race is in an hour. I don’t expect you to come, and I don’t need you to,” he mumbled before walking past you and out the door. 

As the door closed behind him, your knees gave out and you sat on the bed. That burst of outrage was so unlike you, and in truth, you weren’t actually angry. You were worried. You held your head in your hands, unsure why you were so worried. Anakin was a great pilot. He was more than capable of handling himself, and yet you didn’t want him to race. Was it because it went against your mission’s directive? Or was it out of concern for his safety? Or... perhaps... you wondered softly, if it was something much deeper.

What you did know was that you couldn’t just sit in this room and not know what was happening. With a sigh, you went to the races. At the very least, perhaps you’d find out more about this new ship while you were there. 

The crowd was charged as they waited for the race to begin. You scanned the line of racers to find Anakin, eventually catching sight of him towards the middle of the pack. Taking a steadying breath, you let yourself fade into the background. You were just an innocent bystander. Nothing to see, but unbeknownst to all, listening to everything. 

Anakin tightened his hands on the controls, feeling a bit of anger bubble in his chest. At the root of it all, though, was hurt. Hurt that the one person who’s opinion mattered the most didn’t support him, didn’t believe in him. He looked out towards the crowd, hopelessly looking for you. When he found you hidden between some Wookies, a smile came to his face.

They came, he thought. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he turned his attention back to the race. The track wasn’t large, at least, not by Tatooine’s standards, but it was still formidable. He flexed his fingers as he waited for the countdown, connecting with his machine like he used to with his pod racer. The lights flashed as engines revved before finally, it was showtime.

Now this is pod racing, he thought as he shot out from the starting line. 

You heard the people around you talking about the new ships, having entrenched yourself in a group of shipbuilders if their uniforms were to be believed. Soon enough, you knew everything you needed for the council. Turning your attention back to the race, you saw Anakin weaving dangerously in and out of the crowd of racers. 

It was as if your feet moved on their own accord, running towards the boundary until you pressed flush against it, your eyes tracking every movement he made. Your hands tightened on the rail in anticipation when one racer cut him off and sent him into a tail spin.

Anakin quickly recovered, muttering Huttese under his breath as he course-corrected. His eyes found you and saw your nervous face. He sighed, feeling guilty at how upset he made you. He wanted to be the hero, the winner, to prove he could do it. But... he also knew what was more important: you. He didn’t have to prove anything to these people about his flying skills. He had to prove to you that he didn’t mean what he said earlier. He did care what you thought. So, he did something that shocked you. He threw the race.

As he pulled into the finish line, you hopped the barricade and ran towards him. Your arms encircled him and held him close. He crushed you back. 

“You’re an idiot!” you said as tears of relief stung your eyes.

Anakin let his shoulders relax as he held you close. “I’m sorry.”

“I got the information we need,” you sniffed. “Let’s just go back and get some rest. Neither of us got any sleep last night.”

He slowly released you and followed you back to the inn. 

You kicked off your shoes next to your bag and disarmed yourself before getting into bed as he walked towards the bathroom to freshen up.

Slipping into the sheets, you buried yourself under the blankets hoping to find a false sense of security, or at least a rationalization for your feelings. When Anakin had almost gotten hurt earlier, it felt as though your heart had dropped into your stomach. You should unpack that, but you couldn’t. Not right now, at least. Instead, your mind drifted to all the late nights the two of you shared as younglings, talking about your hopes and dreams. You remembered talking about what kind of Jedi you wanted to be. With a wistful sigh, you realized it was nothing like the Jedi the two of you had actually become.

The bed shifted softly behind you as a warm body slipped into it.

“Credit for your thoughts?” he murmured.

“How’d you know I was still awake?” you asked.

“I could feel your uncertainty from across the room. Anyone feeling like that isn’t sleeping,” he replied, propping up on his elbow and turning towards you.

You turned back, pleasantly shocked to find yourself staring at his bare chest. “You’re not wearing a shirt.”

“I get hot when I sleep,” he shrugged.

You swallowed and nodded, trying to settle your gaze anywhere but on the set of abs in front of you. “Do you ever think about what we wanted to be when we were younger and how we turned out?”

Anakin’s brow furrowed, “I was a slave and I dreamed of seeing the galaxy. I got my wish.”

“Not that young,” you said with a slight smile, reaching outs to smooth his brow. “Remember when we were padawans and we talked about what we wanted to do?”

“I remember you talking about how badly you wanted to work in the library with Master Nu and me calling you boring for not wanting a life of adventure,” he teased.

“Well, I doubt I’ll ever cease having adventures at this point,” you sighed.

“War changes a person,” he said solemnly.

“I don’t know if I’d ever be content to hide in the library again,” you admitted, “Not when I know everything that’s out there. All the pain... cruelty... things we should be working towards getting rid of.”

“You can’t save the galaxy,” he said sadly. “Sometimes you can’t even save one person.”

“Never hurts to try,” you replied, laying back down on your back.

He looked at you then, dragged his eyes down your face. Gently, he reached over to caress your cheek. “Is that what was keeping you up?”

You leaned into his touch, shutting your eyes. “No.” Keeping them closed, you murmured, “You’ve turned out to be remarkable.”

“I’ll try not to let it go to my head,” he teased.

Your eyes opened, “I’m serious. I always admired you when we were younger. You were, are-” you corrected- “fearless. You were never afraid of doing what you wanted. I wish I had that same instinct.”

Anakin swallowed, looking down at the space between the two of you. “If you could do what you wanted, what would you do?”

Your eyes trailed his naked chest before making their way up to his face. You took in the slight stubble from the long day he had had. Then, your fingers reached up to touch. He looked up at you through his lashes, blue eyes like the endless sky that made you feel like you were soaring within them, falling up into the heavens. Gently, you traced your forefinger down the pink flesh of a scar long healed. He sucked in a breath as you let the hand trail down his face. Your thumb settled in the divot of his chin as the rest of your fingers reached up to settle on his cheek. Feeling bold, you let your thumb slide up to run across his bottom lip as your eyes settled on them.

“If I were fearless,” you said, softly, barely above a whisper, “I would kiss you.”

Hesitantly, you brought your eyes up to meet his to find his searing gaze holding you in place. There was a torment behind his eyes as you dangled a forbidden possibility in front of him. Your heart clenched at having done this to him, having burdened him with the knowledge of your affections. It wasn’t your fault that you felt this way, and it certainly wasn’t his.

“Good night, Ani,” you murmured before letting your hand fall from his face and turning away from him.

“No,” he said shakily, sliding his arm around you to turn you back towards him.

“N-no?” you stammered in confusion.

“You don’t get to just say that and then turn away as if nothing has happened,” he said, feeling impassioned. “You can’t tell me how you feel, touch me as tenderly as you have, and then give me a cold shoulder to calm your own conscience. Not...”he trailed off, licking his lips, “not without giving me the chance to respond.”

You felt frozen in place, fearful of the rejection you were sure would be coming. The chosen one, Anakin Skywalker, surely could never want someone like you, could he? His victories inspired hope. He was the face of the Republic while Master Kenobi was the face of the Order. You were a nobody in comparison.

“I used to always be so tired when we were younger,” he explained, “but, I was also homesick, too homesick to sleep. I always felt so far behind all the other padawans because I hadn’t grown up in the Order, going so far as to train every night. Yet, everyone always treated me like I was above them, like I was untouchable because of what I was, not who I was. Everyone except you. Do you remember when we first met?”

“You were going through the basic lightsaber forms and I told you that your footwork was wrong,” you replied.

“And then you taught me the actual way to do things,” he replied. “You trained with me when no one else would approach me. You were one of my first friends.”

Friends. Your heart sank into a sadness of knowing that this was how it should be, and that you were foolish to get your hopes up.

“And then we drifted and I realized how much I missed you,” he added. “More than I’ve ever missed a friend. I’d see you across the Temple when were both there and I couldn’t meet your eyes because I knew I’d lose myself in them. You always think you can just slip into the background and hide from even yourself, but you don’t with me. You are all I can think about when life gets dark. You’re my light. When I think a battle is hopeless, I remember that I’d rather have you read about my victory instead of reading my name on the list of those who have fallen.”

You swallowed, turning your head away to hide the emotion in your eyes.

He reached out with the metal hand he so despised and tenderly turned you back to him. “Thoughts of you consume.”

In that moment, you came to the realization that the star that was Anakin Skywalker not only burned ever so brightly as to illuminate the entire galaxy, but that he burned for you. 

Your mouth went dry. 

“I’m not a hero without fear,” he admitted, “I have so many fears, but my biggest fear is losing you.”

Your eyes softened as you reached up to cup his cheek, “You’ll never lose me, Ani.”

He leaned into your touch, slowly closing his eyes to savor the moment, “But... I’m not afraid to do this,” he said before pulling you close. His lips pressed firmly to yours and you felt like your bodies were in tune with each other. You molded yourself into him, feeling the force flow freely between the two of you. All were connected through the force, but this rivaled anything you’d ever felt before. Electricity danced over your skin as his touch sent sparks down your spine. Your hands explored the flat planes of his chest, as his hands slipped up your arms, just as warm as earlier. His heat enveloped you as you lost yourself in him until you didn’t know where Anakin ended and you began. In the back of your mind, you knew that this wasn’t something you should be doing. This wasn’t the type of Jedi you should be, but it was the type of Jedi you had become. 

War changes people.

The thought echoed in your head.

War reminds us what’s really important. War shows us what we are afraid to lose. War shows us how far from our ideals we’re willing to fall in order to win.

War shows us where love can be found, because the opposite of war is not peace. 

The opposite of war is creation. 

The opposite of war is love.

The trip back to the Temple was easy. Living with the knowledge of what had transpired on Corellia was not.

As you walked down the ramp, his hand brushed yours, barely holding it. The Council would be waiting for you in the tower spire looming above you. You’d debrief and then you’d be sent on your separate ways.

A small smile settled on your face as Anakin beamed like a god of the sun. His warmth radiated through you and you knew.

Physical difference wouldn’t alter the emotional closeness you’d found on Corellia. You would always be with each other.

[birth-fic-lover]

I’ll birth your baby part 2

As everyone in Fiona’s office packed up for the day one of her work friends asked like always “any plans for the weekend?”

“The usual” Fiona said like always. “Yourself?” 

“My husband is taking me to his friends house, we are going to talk to him about his strange addiction to eatting packing peanuts."

“Good luck” Fiona said picking up her bag and coat.

As she got into her car she saw that she had 7 missed calls, Fiona wondered if her client had already gone into labour. She felt bad when this happened as all she could do was offer them her birthing room. She had a strict policy against transfering babies one the labour had begun. For one it wasn't good for the baby and two it wasn't good on her or the mothers bodies.

Keeping her fingers crossed she called her client back. "Where are you?!" The lady asked sounding more worried then angry.

"I am just leaving work now" Fiona said calmly.

"You have another job?" the client asked.

"Yes, it's the best way to cover myself if anyone tries to find me out. What we are doing isn't exactly usual. Anyway your appointment isn't till 7pm, have you gone into labour?" She asked suspiciously.

"No, not yet. But I really don't wanna" the client explained.

"I'm leaving now" Fiona said and headed home.

As she parked her car Fiona couldn't see her client anywhere. She had expected her to be stood right outside the door. As Fiona locked her car she had one last glance around and went inside the house. Maybe her client was lost, it had happened before with her living so remotely.

Fiona took off her shoes and rang her client again, but too her surprise she herd a ring tone from her examination room. Fiona opened the door to see her client already sat on the examination table.

"How the hell? I'm calling the police, this is breaking and entering!" Fiona said ending the call so she could dial 999.

"Wait don't" the lady on the examination table said. "I'm like you, I have powers! I can transport myself anywhere I want".

Fiona froze, "well, you still shouldn't of let yourself into my home".

"I'm sorry I appeared in your living room, I couldn't find a spare key to let myself out your house."

Fiona nodded "well you should of told me that on the phone" she said now calm.

Her client looked apologetic so Fiona got her file out of the cupboard, she fipped though it as she started her usual speech.

“So as I expained on the phone, I will do one final examination. For your piece of mind and mine, besides my legal team insists. Of course you will get a full birthing report within the week..."

"Oh I don't need one of them" the client said pulling down her sweatshirt down over her bump.

"Well unfortunately for me I need to do one regardless, if I have time before you arrive on sunday I will try and do it then. I know that some like to use an element of truth when recounting their birth story”

"Oh I won't be recounting it to anybody human, so the truth is fine."

Fiona looked down at the file and saw her client was called Rachel, "um Rachel I have not encountered someone who had powers before. You live with others like us?"

"Yes, there are 5 of us. My partner has powers too, I reckon this little one will take after him. My previous pregnancies the babies have had my powers, that why they haven't made it to term. They kept transporting out of my womb before they were ready." Rachel absentmindedly wrapped her arms around her baby.

"Just so I'm prepared what power does your partner have?" Fiona said wanting to distract Rachel.

"He is able to repair things with his mind" Rachel said.

Fiona nodded carrying on with her usual speech “you are aware of the multibles clause? If you are found to of been carrying twins or more I do have a hefty fee, it’s just to stop any couples trying to get a cheeper price. Besides the suprise on my end isn’t very nice or safe for the babies”.

"I promise I will pay out if you unexpectedly have to give birth more then once this weekend".

Fiona then instructed Rachel to reveal her stomach so she could use the doppler to examine the baby. “There your baby is, they look perfect", Fiona said reassuringly.

They filled out the last of the paperwork in the office, the whole time Rachel had at least one hand on her belly. "You don't have to do this" Fiona reminded her.

"But I do, I worry that I could get overwelmed and transport myself while in labour. Best to play it safe". But Fiona could tell that Rachel was not like her usual client who was happy to miss out.

"Maybe you could stay while I..." Fiona started to offer although she didn't enjoy having someone else involved usually.

"No, better for me to come back afterwards".

"Well I need to change, back in a second" Fiona wanted to give Rachel one last minute alone with her baby.

She went upstairs to change into a black maternity dress, black was better for stains.

When she returned Rachel had revealed her belly again and was stroking the skin, she looked up at Fiona. "I'm ready" she said standing up and removing her hands.

Fiona put her hands on Rachels belly and focused.

Rachel felt like someone had pulled a plug out and all her amniotic fluid was swerling around her womb as it drained out of her. Her belly softened and Fiona’s began to bloat. After a minute she felt her childs placenta ditached from within her, it suddenly disappeared and Fiona suddenly had a full term bump. Fiona’s hands were still on Rachel's now flattened belly as she felt the last drops of fluid leave her. Fiona then removed her hands.

“One last set of papers to sign to confirm the transfer” Fiona said trying hard to swollow. Rachel signed and then before Fiona could say anything else disappeared.

Fiona sighed, she felt for Rachel. She decided that she better prepare for labour to begin while the baby was showing no signs of coming.

She climbed the stairs to her birthing room, these were the times when she wished she had put the room on the ground floor. This baby was not too big dispite being ready to be born, but it still made climbing the stairs harder.

Once in the room she started getting all the fresh medical equipment out of it’s packaging, putting the plastic cover on the bed and setting up the warmer for once the baby was here.

A thought crossed her mind as she looked out the window, it was meant to be a nice night and she hadn't deliver outside for a while. Since she didn't have to worry too much about the report and going off the size this baby didn't look like it be difficult to birth, it might be nice to enjoy the cool air.

Fiona decided that she might not deliver in her hot tub, but using a large yoga mat. Not having neighbours gave her this level of privacy, she could let out her animalistic side.

She decided to have some leftovers for dinner and work on some emails, next weekend she had a tran man who she was looking forward to helping out. She had to do a lot of too posh to push clients to pay so she could do cases where she could offer it for a reduced rate. Next month all her weekends were filled with people who were using a charity to pay for her services.

Fiona looked at the time and supposed she had better get some sleep, she hoped she would start to feel some signs of labour starting in the night.

But unfortunately for her she had the best sleep she had on a Friday night for ages. She rubbed her now low hanging belly, "you need to hurry up my love, or else I'm gonna have to use drugs to get this show on the road".

Fiona needed to give herself time to heal for Monday and she needed the baby delivered by Sunday afternoon. She had a strict rule if she had not progressed enough by midday sunday she would have to intervene. But Fiona knew this weekend was different, Sunday morning she had a date lined up.

She had been talking to this person online for a while, she had never thought she would find someone who would understand her weekend side hustle, but she thought this person might. So she had finally agreeded to a video chat date Sunday morning, which meant this baby would have to be indused midday today so she could clear up and recover. She hoped Rachel would understand.

When it got to 10am Fiona tried some yoga outside on the mat, but this baby was staying put. She could feel the head between her hips and but no dilation or contractions.

The drugs Fiona used weren't like the kind you used on humans, these would bring the baby into the world in a matter of hours. It was a last resort or if the mother needed the baby given to her in a matter of hours. Fiona remembered one woman who had to leave the counrty so waited in another room while Fiona delivered.

Fiona went back to her emails and then changed out of her yoga gear, she herd the 12 o'clock alarm and knew what she had to do.

She went to the birthing room to get the drug, she took a deep breath before she administratored the correct dose. She then instantly felt the ache in her body, she decided she still wanted to deliver outside.

She made her way downstairs in just her underwear, she headed to her outside shower. The warm shower was just what she needed to relax her muscles, she enjoyed holding on to the stone wall as the first contraction arrived.

The pain traveled all the way down her back and through her hips, making her wriggle them while breathing them out.

The baby didn't seem pleased, they were kicking a storm. Fiona tried to calm the baby but it had no effect, the vibrations in her womb were a mix of occasional light contractions and the baby's kicking.

Fiona had to keep reminding herself to breath, the contractions were still far apart but were getting stronger and the weight of the baby’s head on her pelvis made her stop and groan whenever a contraction started. She decided to slide onto her hands and knees and let out her first animalistic groan.

"Hmmmm hoo hmmmmmm" she groaned, she felt another contraction dilate her further. Taking a deep breath of the cool air she swayed her low hanging belly alomst touching the grass. She got her self into a hypnotic rhythm of groaning and dilating until she was awoken with a sharp contraction that let way to a long moan, "GAAAAHHHHHH". This was followed by her waters splashing out between her legs forcing the baby into her birth canal.

Once again the baby was not impressed as they kicked, Fiona clenched her teeth in pain. "Urrrrrggg I need this baby outta me" she complained.

But before she knew it Fiona felt the first urge to push build within her but she relieved it by pushing. “Gaaahhhhhhhhh” the head was moving forward it was almost ready to start bulging.

“Uurghhhh oooh ooohh” it felt like the baby was attacking her from inside her birth canal, “aaarghhhhhh” she cried out bring the baby closer to being born. Fiona tries to relax between contractions, she leans forward on her forarms like she is doing sone kinda yoga as she tries to relax her muscles before they tense up again to push.

Too her relief the drugs she took are on her side of the battle forcing the baby out, soon she could feel the head moving so far the head was peeking through her slit parting her lips.

"Uuuuuurrrghhhh oooohhh ohhhhhhhh aaaarghhhhhh" Fiona moaned and gasped as she pushed, the head shot further out into a tear drop shape. Fiona took a hand and felt the head. But before she could put the hand back down as she felt her body force her to push, her hand felt the head stretching her so her tear drop began to round out. "Aaarrrtggggggaaaaa" she moaned her heart beating fast, she forced her hand to the ground and focused on getting this child out.

The next push brought the childs head further out, Fiona would not stop till the head was fully crowned. The baby was still fighting, Fiona no longer cared about contraction she just needed this baby out. She was thankful she would heal natrally.

"GEEEETT OUUUTTT" Fiona screamed as her vision went blury from the pain. She felt the head fully crown but did not stop until it popped out.

Fiona was amazed by her own strength, she never had a baby not want to leave her before. After she felt the whole head with her hands, she focused on getting the rest of the baby out. She took a deep breath and gave it all she had, “uuuuurrrrghhhhh uurrghhhh oooooh ooooh”, but she wasn’t going to stop because she needed this baby to exit her body. Pushing hard finally she felt the shoulders pop, and the baby’s body slipping out and onto the yoga mat set up next to her.

Fiona’s body relaxed as she picked the crying baby up and comforted him, she had nothing cut the cord as everything was upstairs. The baby wriggled not seeming to settle at all, suddenly Fiona felt a pain like beibg punched by an adult but inside her stomach. She natrally grabbed her belly with both hands, that's when she realised her belly was full term again and the baby was gone. Amazingly the baby seemed to be back inside her.

For a moment Fiona just kneeled shocked, but then it dawned on her that her contractions had stopped and she would need to deliver this baby again.

Still sore she carefully got up and went inside to get her phone. She could feel that her waters were not back so she knew this baby would have to come out soon. As she reached her phone she felt the contractions start up again. Fiona was unsure if it was best to focus on re-birthing this baby or to call Rachel to ask about what was going on.

Another contraction hit her harder this time, “Hooooooo wow this it really happening againnnnnnn” and with that Fiona knew she needed to focuson getting this baby out. She felt the child being forced down her birth canal already. Fiona spread her legs wide trying to make room for the baby to exit her, she knew this wasn’t going to be a long delivery. But she also knew it wouldn’t be any less painful than before.

The urge to push came over Fiona fast, she bared down and went for it. “Naaaahhh hooooooooo”. Fiona felt she was already making progress so stopped to catch her breath, when she felt the baby disappear out of her birth canal and back into her womb.

"Nooot again" Fiona said though gritted teeth. This time she knew she would need to call Rachel.

"Hello? Fiona? Is he here?" Rachel asked.

"I'm trying but he doesn't want to be born" Fiona tries to explain.

"What do you mean?"

"I think he has your powers afterall, but he has not been wanting to be born. He transports back into my womb".

In a pop Rachel appears in the room making Fiona jump, "Fiona can't you put him back inside of me? Maybe he knows your not his mother".

"I can't" Fiona says wishing she could. "Once labor starts there only one way this baby comes out".

"I can think of another" Rachel says then puts her hands on Fiona’s sore belly. "I'm right here" she says softly.

Suddenly Fiona's belly deflates and both baby and placenta are in Rachel's hands. Fiona is amazed that her most difficult birth was also the easiest.

Fiona ended up cancelling her virtual date, she needed time to rest, recover and clean up. But by Monday she was healed and back at her desk job. She looked up and saw her work friend. “How was it with the friend?”

“Bad news he is now addicted to both packing peanuts and popping bubble wrap, how was your weekend?”

“My jobs dragged on longer then I was predicting and I had to redo the last bit but luckily I got some help in the end".

[bestofblackwidow]

The "Let me go - it's okay," she told him the last time we saw the Black Widow, it was - to say the least - emotional. "Let me go - it's okay," she said to Hawkeye, plunging to her death on the arid planet Sleeping in Avengers: Endgame for the ultimate sacrifice to save the world. While the deaths in the Marvel Cinematic Universe go on - sorry, Iron Man - there was probably no more heart-stopping moment, since the former SHIELD spy who became Avenger gave her life to recover the Soul Stone.

Still, it left the MCU in a bind. For years, a Black Widow film had been mooted, right back to 2004 at Lions Gate Entertainment before the rights reverted to Marvel. When Scarlett Johansson first appeared as Natasha Romanoff - the former KGB assassin with a very particular set of skills - in 2010's Iron Man 2, it didn't take long before questions were asked about a solo outing. Marvel Studios conductor Kevin Feige even held discussions with Johansson, who was then only 25. But there was a caveat, he said. "The Avengers comes first."

While others - Thor, Captain America, Black Panther and even Ant-Man - had their moments in the spotlight, the Black Widow was forced to wait. And wait. And wait. Not that Johansson thought that her character demanded the same treatment; if she was going to be in front of a Marvel movie, there had to be a reason. "Is there anything exciting to do creatively, as an actor?" she says. “Will we be able to do something extraordinary and strong? And something that stands on its own? "It's what makes the independent Black Widow an intriguing prospect: an inauguration of Phase 4 of the MCU promises to step back in time before her dramatic death to answer the provocative questions that still hover over her Crucially, the script transports audiences back to the events right after Captain America: Civil War, after that huge internal confrontation of the Avengers.

Without relatives or an organization that employs her, the Black Widow is alone, says Johansson. "It gave us the opportunity to really show her when she's kind of out of her game, you know? Because of that, anything was possible." The actress was there "from the start" at the script meetings, as they began to figure out how to delve into Romanoff's origins. "You are trying to map all of this ... which is extremely stressful," she laughs, "because there are no guidelines."

Fortunately, Johansson was not alone. In another inspired choice for the MCU canon, Feige recruited Australian director Cate Shortland, best known for discreet dramas like Somersault and Lore. While she was surprised, Shortland was encouraged by the creative freedom that Marvel was offering. “They allowed me to be myself and encouraged me to make a movie that I was passionate about,” she says. "We were allowed to have a lot of nuances and make a character-oriented film."

After several Skype sessions with Johansson, who also receives producer credit, Shortland worked with a Russian researcher to embody Romanoff's dark story: "the red in my ledger", as she told Loki in 2012 in Os Avengers. As she sings in the trailer, "We have to go back to where it all started" - the promising teaser clips of Romanoff as a young man (played by Ever Anderson, daughter of Paul WS Anderson and Milla Jovovich) in a childhood that seems far from idyllic. That's what makes Black Widow a family reunion of the kind that only Marvel would have the courage to conjure. Joining Romanoff is Yelena Belova, a sister-sister and fellow murderer who trained alongside her in the so-called Red Room, the punitive Soviet facility that produced 'Black Widow' spies.

"Their stories intersect," promises Shortland. "They clash." Played by Lady Macbeth's British star Florence Pugh, Belova is more than a physical match for Romanoff. Still, emotionally is where it really matters. "What Yelena does is kind of point to Natasha's pain," says Pugh. “She is part of Natasha's story. And I think that's why we have an opportunity to look at Natasha's story, because Yelena has been knocking on the door and says, 'Hey, let's deal with this pain. ”As Johansson comments, Belova is not just a carbon copy of his own character.

"She is completely alone. She is strong and different. She is so different (from) Natasha." Beside them are Melina Vostokoff (Rachel Weisz) and Alexei Shostakov (David Harbor), two father figures whose own stories intertwine with Natasha and Yelena. "This is the coolest thing with this whole group of people. They all had parts of their past that they regretted," says Pugh. “They’re older. They’ve had more life experience. They know more about the system, about this world they’re all living in.” Harbor, the Emmy Stranger Things nominated star, managed to put an indelible mark on the muscular Shostakov, better known as the Red Guardian super soldier, the Russian equivalent of Captain America. "There is a gangster quality to him," the actor smiles. "And he's covered in tattoos. He's got a beard and those gold teeth. He's crazy." But after years of making bad decisions, he's also full of remorse.

"He's in a bad situation," adds Harbor. "And he needs redemption." Weisz's character, Melina, is another who experienced the rigors of the Red Room, a place that put her in contact with Natasha and Yelena. Marking his first dive at the MCU, Weisz acknowledges that the film addresses the idea of ​​discovering his favorite family. "It's definitely about finding out where you belong and where you came from, and what your background story was, and who you really are, and what matters to you - your ideology, I think." Along the way, Feige made reference to The Kids Are All Right - the 2010 Lisa Cholodenko film about a same-sex couple raising two teenagers. "Which is so weird," laughs Johansson. "You would never expect that from a Marvel movie." no it was the only strange nod to the film. Harbor speaks of Shostakov in terms of Philip Seymour Hoffman's drama teacher in the dramatic black comedy The Savages.

Or even expressing "the pathos of a small town, independent, family-run, weird movie... like Little Miss Sunshine". More understandable cinema references include "things like Logan and Aliens and The Fugitive," says Shortland. "We saw movies like that." Certainly, it's easy to see comparisons between Sigourney Weaver's determined Ripley, from James Cameron's masterpiece Aliens, and Johansson's Romanoff, an Avenger who has no superpowers. "We saw it as a force," says Shortland, "because she always has to dig really deep to get out of shit situations." According to the director, everyone in the production invested in deepening Romanoff - even Scottish composer Lorne Balfe (Pennyworth, His Dark Materials), who replaced Alexandre Desplat's original choice. Balfe looked at the character's origins, says Shortland. “He said, 'I want to put it on the ground, because it has been dug up in the movies in the past. I want to give her that flesh and blood. 'And he created this soundtrack that is really Russian."

However, perhaps the real blow here is to recruit Shortland, the first female director to face the Black Widow (and only the second, following Captain Marvel co-director Anna Boden, to enter the MCU). "This film would not be what it is without Cate Shortland," says Pugh. "I think having her eye, and having her mind with this script, has taken her to a whole different realm." Johansson agrees. "" You can feel it was made from a female perspective ... cooked there. "Although Ray Winstone's casting as Supervisor of the Red Room Dreykov (whose daughter contributed to the abundance of red in Romanoff's book, according to Loki) add more to the psychological battleground that the Black Widow will explore, it also deals with victimization, a very pertinent topic in the current climate. The Red Room itself is where trainees are brutally sterilized. "You will see that these women are hard working and strong, and they are murderers - and yet they still need to discuss how they were abused," says Pugh. "It is an incredibly powerful piece."

Judging by the 2020 Oscars, where Pugh and Johansson had their own private relationship session on the red carpet, the two actors got along very well. "She has a really beautiful career ahead of her ... she's a very special person," says Johansson, excited when Pugh's name is mentioned. More specifically, Pugh may well have more Marvel to chew on, if it is rumored that her character will take on the 'Black Widow' mantle for new adventures. By learning Parkour, kickboxing and knife fighting for role, Pugh can safely cut things physically, though she's reluctant to claim that the Black Widow is just a setup for future outings. "Even though it is obviously where everyone wants to go and want to think - think about what comes next - this film never really seemed to be what he was trying to underline." According to Johansson, however, test the audience who saw the film thinks otherwise. "Her character and her performance are so dear." Now, after more than a year of pandemic-related delays to July 2021), it will not be just a few lucky spectators who will be able to see. Black Widow will even be the first Marvel movie to debut simultaneously on the Disney+ streaming site (with a 'main hit' fee), an understandable move considering the uncertainty that still exists around the world. And in fact, after the success of the Marvel TV shows WandaVision and The Falcon And The Winter Soldier, it doesn't seem like such a strange home. Johansson believes that fans will respond to Black Widow, with this flashback of an earlier part of her life, bringing more poignancy to the Endgame's outcome. "Our goal was for them to be satisfied with this story; that maybe they could have some solution, I think, with the death of this character, in a way. It seemed like people wanted this." Shortland agrees. "We felt that we should honor his death," she says. And the Black Widow will surely honor him.

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

Lily (from "Lily and the Art of Being Sisyphus", what else?) and Lenin and maybe some other people? Watch "Heathers". Reactions? Or what they get transported there? Sorry, it's just that I'm in this Heathers-obsession phase and since I love your work so much (and the fact that Trotsky is kinda sorta like JD) I've been wondering about a crossover like that. I honestly have no idea what your answer to this will entail.

I’ve been musing on this one for a bit now but I suppose it’s time to dig in and answer.

First, I’m not usually a fan of the “X characters watch Y thing” so we’re going to avoid that. Also, to Wizard Lenin, it’d undoubtedly be yet another one of Lily’s weird 80′s movies that she loves so much and forces him to watch. It’s less gory than Predator, but dammit Lily, high school isn’t like this! 

Getting transported there is a similarly weird story. It’s such a muggle setting that it really doesn’t mesh well with the “Sisyphus” cast. Why would Lily and Wizard Lenin be stuck in this high school in Ohio? Would they even do anything besides go “That JD kid sure is weird” and “Wow, the death count here is higher than Hogwarts!”? Point being, I can’t imagine they’d get entangled in the true plot of “Heathers” and at best would be providing riff track commentary on this crazy high school. 

So, instead, let’s go the good old fusion route. Let’s make the world of “Lily and the Art of Being Sisyphus” just a bit more like “Heathers” and see how it pans out.

Because “Heathers” is all about the destruction of society from within, we’re axing Voldemort. Sorry, Tom, you got stuck in a magical mirror, eaten by bears, or something after 1943 and are going to be Sir Not Appearing in this Universe. As a result, there’s no Voldemort, but the deep societal issues that Tom took advantage of very much remain and are flourishing. 

In this world, Lily is still a god, but is not immediately recognized as such by being the girl who lived. Instead, she’s just a strange, dangerously overpowered, nuisance that nobody likes. And her home life is trash.

I imagine in the world without Voldemort, Death Eaters, and a second war Lily and James’ marriage quickly crumbles. This is mainly due to the stress of marriage but also due to having a gifted, ridiculously intelligent, and creepy child. Within a few years, Lily Evans has the audacity to do what is never done: she divorces her pureblood lord husband and tries to vie for child custody. She loses, of course, as she’s a muggle born woman, and is basically banished from ever seeing her kid again.

James never really gets over this, Ellie looking so much like Lily Evans certainly not helping matters, and over the years grows very cold to her. She’s not a son so is useless to inherit, she’s nothing like him, and she’s just an all around disappointment. James very quickly gets remarried for political purposes, marrying a far less scandelous pureblood witch from pick your prestigious family, and they have a son meaning that Lily is no longer heir.

Lily thus attends Hogwarts as essentially the half-blood Potter. She’s for all intents and purposes a bastard child, one barely acknowledged by her father, and is also weird. As a result I imagine she’s bullied relentlessly much in the manner Luna is. For years.

I imagine Luna Lovegood is her only friend, as the pair have bonded over constantly having their stuff destroyed and being locked out of their dormitories. 

Enter Lily’s seventh year and thus the plot.

The outside world is looming and Lily effectively has no future. Despite being the daughter of Lord Potter, she’s in a similar position that Tom Riddle was. She won’t be hired into the Ministry or basically any position thanks to her dubious heritage as well as the fact that no one likes her.

Mostly, she just wants out. She wants out of the country where everyone knows exactly who she is and where she came from. Her best hope for this is employment with the goblins but she needs recommendations from a professor. Her best bet is Slughorn, but while he’s always been awed of her ability after seven years of Lily the charm has worn off. Lily has never received an invitation to the Slug Club.

Lily realizes that to get out she must become popular so someone can vouch for her to Slughorn. Not to mention her life might become slightly, slightly, less miserable. So, Lily approaches the Heathers. Much like in the film/musical, Lily offers her services to them for the fee of making nice, pretending to like her, and getting her an in with Slughorn.

This spirals out of control as the Heathers instead do the makeover and make Lily suddenly cool. She’s suddenly invited to parties, people talk to her, it’s a whole new world.

Around this time, Lily in the room of requirement happens to stumble across the diary (nevermind how he gets there, we’ll pretend Tom just never managed to smuggle him out of the castle). Tom has been trapped in there, dying, and Lily obliviously informs him that all his ambitions and sacrifices amounted to nothing. There was no dark lord after Grindelwald, she’s never heard of a Tom Riddle, and everything she describes makes it sound like nothing has changed.

Tom Riddle inexplicably vanished off the face of the earth leaving only the diary behind.

Naturally, Tom is very pissed about this, and sets about plotting how he can return, trying to get Lily to open up by asking her for help returning him to his body. Lily does him one better and just returns him to his body without any sacrifice, casually remarking that she’s always been like this as long as she can remember, fully accepting Tom to yell “SHE’S A WITCH! BURN HER!” to her face as everyone else does.

Tom, however, is floored and everything he’s ever known to be true is thrown out the window. He decides to make Lily his new pet project. 

Unfortunately for him, by this point Lily has a Slug Club to attend, only it goes horribly wrong. The Heathers have purposefully set about humiliating Luna, Lily’s only friend, and Lily has to very publicly break ties with them even though it means sacrificing her only real chance of leaving the country with gainful employment. Worse, the Heathers promise wrath the likes of which Lily has never seen before.

Lily, devastated and despairing, goes back to Tom and confesses all the shitiness of her extremely shitty life and how she doesn’t even know what the Heathers will do to her now. Tom finds this a little odd, as Lily has quickly proven herself the most powerful person on the planet, but he’s willing to play along. More to the point, Lily and Tom’s relationship goes from 0 to 100 as he is not only the first guy to show interest in her but he’s very very interested and very very hot. When Lily decides to beg Alpha Heather for forgiveness, Tom notes that he’ll come with, he’s better with people than she is.

Tom, having hit a low point of nihilist rage thanks to Voldemort having amounted to nothing, poisons Alpha Heather and dutifully covers for Lily by writing her suicide note. This works. There is an ecstasy of joyous grief throughout the school as staff and students alike confess how they never knew the true Heather. Lily is astounded, Tom is ecstatic.

Lily tries to return to life as normal, goes back to hanging out with Luna, but also has to introduce Tom to the school. Tom suggests she mind wipes everyone, that makes Lily uncomfortable, so she instead confesses what she believes is the truth in that Tom was trapped in an enchanted object. Dumbledore nearly has a stroke, but since Tom Riddle never became Voldemort, it’s more that this is a solution to an unsolved mystery and the castle is glad Tom isn’t actually dead. They’d thought he got hit by one of those muggle bombs during WWIII or whatever it was the muggles had going on. 

HA HA HA HA, but no, Tom says in response.

In the meantime Tom gets to witness Lily’s weird and strained relationship with her father, his friends, and her younger half-brother. Tom points out that Lily seeking out gainful employment is unnecessary. Lily doesn’t have to be a part of society, like all these worthless people around her, she’s so powerful that she can do whatever she likes however she likes it. She can simply leave the country, she could become a dark lord even, there’s nothing stopping her. Lily’s never thought of it like that before, to become a true part of society, to be accepted on some level by that society, has always just seemed like the obvious path to her. What else would she do?

Due to this, Lily and Tom’s relationship continues to grow as they’re really the first people to see each other as they are. Naturally, this is when shit hits the fan. Thanks to Tom, Lily’s invited to another Slug Club with him (Tom can still become minister even if he was trapped in a book for fifty years! Slughorn says). Lily gets hit on and nearly sexually assaulted by some of the boys there, Lily gets out, but the next day rumor circulates around the school that Lily was in a threesome with them.

Tom Riddle sets up a ridiculous scheme in which he fakes their murder suicide where they confess to being homosexual. Lily is increasingly horrified. The school, once again, is in an ecstasy of joyful grief over the loss of these two, beautiful, oppressed, gay souls. Lily realizes that Tom is A Bad Dude (TM) and tries to confront him. He easily confesses he cares nothing about these people and has decided he wants to watch society burn. These are the people who thought he had died in the Blitz and did nothing. They are people who cannot and will not change. They’re the absentee fathers who dote on far less powerful, pureblood, sons. Tom has officially, completely, given up on the wizarding world and now he will destroy it as quickly and horrifically as he can. Lily, not belonging to society, can pour the kerosene on with him.

This is getting a little too gnarly for Lily and she dumps Tom.

Unfortunately, he quickly becomes exceedingly popular thanks to his angelic face, his natural charm and charisma, and his understanding of people. He passes around a petition for suicide and bullying awareness that everybody and their brother signs. What they’re really signing is pages from the diary which, much like Death Note, promises him both their magic and their life force.

Tom confronts Lily and admits he’s going to murder everybody, an entire generation of wizards and witches gone in an instant, AND LILY CAN BE HIS DARK QUEEN! Lily and Tom get into a fight, Tom accidentally murders the shit out of her and is devestated, only of course for Lily to wake up later after he’s left because she was unwittingly immortal this whole time.

Rising from the dead, Lily hunts Tom down before he can blow up the school, and sucks him back into the diary. Upon graduation Lily makes up with Luna, still has no prospects and plans to go and be homeless in India, has hesitantly gotten in contact with Lily Evans, basically has no contact left with her father, and has a boyfriend diary named Tom who might be let out in fifty years if he promises not to blow up a school. 

[jitteryjive]

what she says: I’m fine

what she really means:

It was sunny today.

Well, actually, every single day up there in the fabled Shangri-Spa was sunny, pleasant, bright, any word that could accurately describe the afterlife's bathhouse-and-spa cousin.

But, yes, it was sunny today.

The sun, just as usual, was smiling down onto the angelic attendants, always welcome with open arms for expected visitors. Unfortunately, not many came. The cupids, or more well known as the Shangri-Spa toads, would marinate in silence as they waited for someone who had managed to make it through the holy trials.

The holy trials were mental and physical trials set in the bottom of the ocean, where the chosen would collect the colored orbs after besting courage, strength, and wisdom. Ever since the transportation to the depths of the Great Sea, the Ala Marino, was stolen in ancient times, the Spa went thousands of years without anyone for the cupids to greet--

Until now.

It seemed that someone had managed to actually find the submarine (thank god), and had permanently sealed the stones into the entrance that lead to the Shangri-Spa. That took away the thrill of a visitor of strength and great importance, but at least the toga-wearing toads didn't have to stay preserved for nothing but the lonely and deafening quiet.

So, every now and then, some friendly paper being would wander in, pay the fee, and enjoy a relaxing day in the relaxing Spa with its relaxing attendants, and leave. It made things much more interesting.

Before these thought-provoking customers began rolling in, they would have to stimulate creativity by switching shifts.

Technically, they weren't supposed to do it, but was it obliterating boredom to be basking in the glorious haze of the sun, surrounded by fresh grass and a bubbling foot bath instead of normally standing in front of a who-knows-how-old pillar for at least an entire day straight? Yes.

They didn't do this as often anymore, now that they finally had a person to interact with.

And all kinds of diverse creatures would buy into the Shangri-Spa. A bone goomba, a snifit, a parakoopa, you name it. Just casual acquaintances who came to visit and to unwind. Sometimes, a generic toad or shy guy would come, but they did no different; pay, play, pass on. The same routine, the same purpose-- almost as if every single one of them were pressed from the same pulp.

It was a steady, constant flow, of occasional customers, waiting cupids, and random influxes of cash.

Until he arrived.

To the Shangri-Spa toads, he seemed so-- bizarre, or, to put it more nicely, unique. When business was slow, and they were feeling impatient, a yellow-spotted toad (it sounded generic at first, but he was everything but that) had shyly peeked in through the door.

Now, straight away, their eyes had been caught by his clothing. He was garbed with a protective, mud-brown outfit, clearly suited for the desert. He wore a tight, buckled sash, which he would frequently tug on, and it allowed a polished shovel to be latched onto the back. His dutiful, dark boots were tightly laced up, and the soles contrasted, as they were incredibly scuffed up. It appeared he had trekked over miles and miles of rough sand.

What took their attention about his clothes the most was his odd hat. Snugly fit over his shroom, it paired with his button-up top. An expeditionary hat, it was built to shield his silver eyes from the sun. Despite this covering, the sun had clearly beaten down on him, judging from his fairly tan skin and his countless freckles, giving him a bronzed tint. It was clear he was attentive and paid close attention to his cleanliness and appearance-- perhaps he was a perfectionist?

Then, second, it was that he spoke to and shook the hands of the cupids, seeming very attracted to how they were silently standing without anyone to speak to. He spoke with an anxious stutter, further cementing the idea that he wasn't very good at being social. But, clearly, the toad still wanted to introduce himself and say hello. Not a single Spa attendant was left out. Some awkwardly laughed and excused themselves, as they weren't used to being spoken to by a stray visitor. Some met him with enthusiasm, chatting about the Spa and running over its purpose and guidelines. But he still chose to interact with them, either way.

They came to hear that his name was Baker Moontoad, but he was a professor in archeology, meaning that he more commonly was called Professor Toad (shortened to Professor). The name rang multiple bells for most of the cupids, as regular news and information were circulated back to their ears. They'd heard of this very professor, who had survived many terrors and solved a mystery as old as time.

Professor had found an Ancient One alive by the name of Captain T.Ode (they found it silly that he incorrectly referred to him as Khap'taan Teeowed, but he insisted it was the dialect of the Ancient Ones), and he was writing out all of his notes and work, but still needed someone to review them with true interest. He was considered famous in some ways, and from what they'd heard, he was a brave, intelligent desert toad. But they hadn't imagined that he'd act like this.

Professor, instead of acting very boastful of his achievements or even just extroverted, seemed surprisingly timorous.

His trembly hands would be stuck like glue to his sash once they shared a handshake, fiddling with the fabric as to calm his underlying nerves. His face, although proud, seemed very timid, expression-wise. His eyes would be wide, seemingly from both his bashfulness and ecstatic mood. His simper was genuine, yet fearful. They found it strange-- as someone who had given countless lectures, taught countless classes, and was an actual professor, Professor acted like he was socially constipated.

However, he further explained his intention for coming here. He was looking for someone who was willing to review and criticize his work so that he could edit and publish his extraordinary findings, and, oddly, hadn't gone to Shangri-Spa to get a massage or to soak in the baths, but for someone who would study with him and partner with him 24/7 to help publicize his notes. Professor had heard that the cupids were very fair critiques, and that many of them were also fervent in the same topics.

Unluckily for him, none of them were very open to leaving the spa, moving in with him, and spending God knows how long editing and reviewing and reading hundreds of pages over and over and over again. They politely declined his offers to each of them. They weren't that desperate for something to cure their ennui.

Until he asked the angel idly standing in the corner, next to a model of the Ala Marino. All these untils, it was like these special toads were built to break the humdrum repetition.

They were considered the history buff of the cupids, having spent hours researching Captain T.Ode and the backstory of the Marino. As Professor went around, querying each and every one of the Spa's attendants, they watched him with intrigued eyes. It was in their nature to feel curious, after all. When he approached, they instinctively straightened themselves. They knew how prominent this toad was, and it was a rule that important customers were to be treated with enormous respect. Professor Toad was no different.

"Ah, hello." When he spoke, his voice wavered as expected-- the echoes of his words that they had picked up from across the room didn't lie.

"Hello. It's nice outside, isn't it?" The angel responded, eyes gently meeting.

"Yes, it's quite.. serene, to put it that way."

Professor paused for a moment's passing, glancing down at his boots that had seen adventure after adventure through a perilous desert.

"Say, what's your name? I'd assume you have already.. heard from your attendants that I am Professor Moontoad."

"I've heard of you, as I love history, and you're often associated with that.. and, you can just call me Cherub!"

Cherub flashed a grin at him and caused him to mutedly laugh. He grew serious once again.

Tightening his already taut sash, he gave a short nod.

"Well, Cherub, I have a proposal for you-- would you like to.. study and critique my work? If you would want to join me, I must warn you, you will have to stay with me for an unknown period of time, and we will share a living space. It is well understood if you do not enjoy the factors."

They cheerily smiled, and gave a flitter of their angelic wings, letting their halo sparkle in all its glory.

"Yes, I would like to do that! It would be an honor to work with you, Professor!"

"Excellent!"

He met their passionate behavior, and seemed relieved that someone here was actually willing to do the obstacle-like task. He held up one finger, then dove to the button of his bag, heavy with unspecified trinkets and objects.

"I-I brought my notes and some of my work along with me, if.. that is alright.” He began. “Would you like to look over my writing, so to have a foretaste of what we will be working with?"

They nodded. "Sure. Sounds rational."

As he seemingly trembled with excitement (or some other unknown emotion), his quivering fingers popped off the button with a satisfying snap. However, when distributing the support for the pack to the bottom, it spun off his shoulder, and he gave a brief squeal when it hit the ground, spilling its messy contents (which was a surprise, considering how neat he was). Professor reddened, and whether it was from embarrassment or the tears pricking his eyes, they didn't know. Beginning to truly shake now, he attempted to try and shove it back into the open bag, now limply lying on the marble floor.

What Cherub knew best was to help, and this was no exception. So they dropped to their knees and dug their hands into the wreck.

"Here, I'll try and help you organize this! You probably need an extra pair of hands, right?"

"Yes, yes— I had no intention for— for this to occur—“

His cheeks burned an impossibly bright red when there were items revealed that were different from what looked like infinite amount of papers scrawled all over with cursive handwriting. The two sorted out glowsticks (even more humiliated, Professor explained in a slur of words that they were from some random, weird, strange, history-involved dance ritual he did with a friend), multiple sets of bright red pens, a smudged cleaning cloth, spare shoelaces, two pairs of socks, unused notepads, sticky notes, and, making him mumble something under his breath, doodles that were covered in hearts and stickers.

The cupid didn't outwardly question any of the mysterious things inside the disarray, and fixed everything up enough so that he could continue to sputter out flustered explanations and thrust everything back inside.

"Th-thank you. I appreciate your help."

"No problem! And.. you know, you don't have to be so ashamed of your stuff. I'm not judging."

"I suppose, but-- doesn't your mind wander? You were most likely questioning the things I have in my bag!"

They aimlessly shrugged, and set the newly repaired sack up right, ensuring that it wouldn't tip over again. They nudged it towards him, as to gesture than he could show him the notes.

"Well, I was thinking about it, but there wasn't much to be blushing about, so you're off the hook."

He smiled in silent peace. "Thank you."

Trailing off, he remembered that he was going to let them see bits and pieces of his notes.

"Where was I, hmm?"

Professor inquisitively tapped his chin, attempting to collect his thoughts together after the mistake. He remembered, and speedily returned to his more stoic demeanor.

"Yes, I will show you a page or two of my work, as a minuscule preview of.. what we will be reviewing over the next few weeks."

He sorted through his notes, muttering things like not something that long here or that's something Cherub should read when we're alone until he found the perfect samples.

"Aha! Oh ho, a great sheet to formally.. introduce you to my work-- it will do admirably!"

"Oh, let me see. It sounds good."

Tapping it against the shining floor, Professor bunched up a pack of papers, and handed them to him. He returned to his feet (the only thing that wasn't wavering on his body, probably due to stability) after sealing up the bag and throwing it back onto his shoulder.

Cherub looked through a few pages of documents, studying the ink scratched into the page. Some of the work was in an otherworldly red color, and they remembered that they'd seen extra pens in his bag-- that explained one thing.

His handwriting was very clean and formal, as it was cursive. He clearly had intentions to publicize this work. Every now and then, a colorful tab would pop up on the side, labeled in a more loose scrawl to remind Professor that this must be rewritten later, or something similar of the like.

"You're very bright, aren't you? It shows in your writing here."

He drew his eyes up from picking at his sash, and his cheeks grew pink again, this time from pleasure. His reluctant simper became adamant, and seemingly, the introverted professor became proud of himself.

"Well, thank you again! I have not let many read my work, and just judging from my exterior, I may as well be.. mute and dumb-- but I'm rather sharp, aren't I?" They could taste the tinge of confidence in his voice, and it made them beam just a bit more.

"Yes, that's true. If this is just a bit of what you plan to publicize, I'm surprised. You've fit a lot of research on just these pages."

Their compliment clearly drove home as they watched his eyes glint with pride. A tentative smile broke his face.

"I-I have collected information from my.. travels over the course of many months. And I-- may have to explain some of it, as I had written it in a different language. I'm fluent in the retired language of the Ancient Ones, and as it is more of a written language than a spoken one, I had added in phrases. With translations, of course."

The two of them stood with no words. Once each other's gazes grew uncomfortable, Cherub awkwardly laughed, then shuffled through the writing, and motioned to a few of the names mentioned.

"I've got just one problem with your work," they began, tapping the most noticeable name in neat cursive. "And it's this."

Professor opened his mouth, then shut it, not wanting to protest. He leaned in. After a few minutes of examination, he gave a huff of confusion.

"I.. do not understand, what is the issue with this name?"

They understandingly smiled, hoping they didn’t appear condescending, and handed him the papers.

"See, I've been noticing this mistake-- you've misspelled Captain T.Ode's name."

"Well, that is the phraseology of the Ancient Ones. Technically, when applying their language, his name would be Khap'taan Teeowed. So, wouldn't it be correct?"

They hesitantly bit their lip, then ran their pointer finger underneath the red pen's markings. They wings twitching once again, Cherub thought for a moment on how to explain.

"I don't want to sound like I'm explaining it to you, as you're fluent, but.. the Sandpaperian word for captain is khap'taan. You didn't translate correctly. And either way, his name would translate to T.Ode. It’s simply a misspelling. Or a mistranslation, I dunno.”

He nodded his head to show he was listening, then gasped as his face burned red again. He gripped the paper tightly, reading over the work again.

"Sweet senior thesis! I-I've made a fool of myself in front of you a second time now! I-- I have made such a humiliating slip-up, I apologize-- I will have to adjust.. all of my work and notes, as this is what an idiot would do! Oh, dear lord, I'm stupid, stupid, stupid.."

His grip tightened further. Wrinkles spiderwebbed all over the contents of his palms, and he risked crushing the sheets altogether.

They hastily shook their head, and seized his wrist before he could crumple the papers.

"No, no! It's a common misconception. And, you're not stupid or an idiot. Professor, it's okay. Don't worry, that's the only mess-up I found in that sample. Your work is perfect!"

Professor, who had previously attempted to ball up his precious work, paused, then fluffed them again, and slipped them back into his bag, making sure it wouldn't collapse again. He exhaled, feeling disappointed.

"I have-- I have completely misunderstood his name. I deserve to be called an idiot for thinking this for all my research! And, when I return home, I will have to edit and remove all of the mis.."

He realized.

"I-I forgot you'll be helping me."

"There! See? You do need a second pair of hands, and I'm completely open to removing this! Besides, I'm pretty sure you've been swamped with work.."

They flashed another cheerful grin to uplift him, and he (fortunately) appeared brighter. Fixing up his hat, Professor gazed at the floor, still crimson in the face.

"We've ought to get going, yes? And.. I may show you your new living space, Cher."

Cherub halted before speaking, hearing the abbreviation of their name. He continue to weakly tremble, eyeing their halo.

"Did you call me Cher?"

He perked up, then grew into a slight panic, frantically waving his hands to excuse himself.

"I-is it alright if I call you that? I believe in-- in affectionate nicknames for friends. Yes, I consider you a friend, now that we've become acquainted."

They clasped their hands together and shook their wings, the pristine feathers barely brushing against the marble floor.

"Well, of course! I've never been given a nickname before, so.. and, yeah, we should probably set off."

"It is done, then.. I wish the Spa my best regards."

They pridefully looped their arm around Professor's elbow, and he simpered as well, releasing his hands from anxiously toying with his sash. The two spoke to Shangri-Spa to share a wholehearted goodbye.

They strolled out the entrance doors together, leaving the model of the Ala Marino and the memory of the odd Professor Toad behind.

The silence settled again, and the angels repositioned, with one absent now, the atmosphere feeling like a missing puzzle piece.

"Goodbye, Cherub." One of the cupids finally spoke, wishing them away.

———

"I can't believe that this is what Toad Town is like! I've never seen anything like this! The citizens are so nice, the Princess is so friendly, the ocean is so mesmerizing, the lights and the trees and the sky! Everything is so-- insane compared to the Spa!"

"You're very excited, aren't you?"

"Yes, yes! My life wish has been to see the world below the heavens, and it's finally coming true! I can't believe my eyes, I-"

The two of them stopped in front of a small, humble house, with simple beige walls and a navy blue roof covered in streamers for the upcoming festival. A few marigolds were sprouting up behind the denim hued picket fence. The mailbox was quaint and metal, tiny in the shadow of the larger house. The front door was a plain oak, and was as unassuming as the rest of the houses.

Cherub paused.

"Is this our home? My new home?"

The angel gaped at the house, taking in the appearance. Professor nodded, and tucked his hand inside their palm.

"Yes. Yes, this is your new home. Is it--" His voice became hushed. "Is it too small? It's an upgrade from my last living space, as it was very cramped, and my next-door neighbors were.. inconsiderate, to put it nicely."

They hadn't exactly lived in any other place, so this seemed like the perfect size for them, who had no belongings and no boxes or packages to move in, and Professor, who already lived there, most likely didn't have much as well.

"Of course not. It's adorable! I think I'll really enjoy sharing this house with you, as your roommate!"

"That's reassuring. I was afraid that my new partner would have felt trapped in such a small house."

The two of them stood for a few more moments, admiring the curves and shapes of the home. Finally, Professor spoke again.

"Well, shall we go inside?"

"Yes, please."

Hand in hand, the toads walked inside together, and he pushed open the door for his new friend. It revealed an astoundingly clean house, which was only built of a few rooms-- clearly, the architect for this house mashed at least two rooms together to save space.

To be honest, it was a lot for Cherub to take in all at once.

In the living room, a wide table was spread by a short, red couch, and both were strewn with papers and stray red pens. In the corner, there sat a stunted bonsai tree, having been recently trimmed and watered. The overhead lights were calmingly soft.

In the kitchen, which was only separated from the living room with an arch and the carpet ending at linoleum flooring, there was a flat, stable counter. Having clearly been wiped down recently, it shimmered in the lightbulb. The oven was also shiny due to cleaning supplies. A couple cupboards, organized and stocked, were hung above the dwarfed fridge. The sink was even more ordinary, compared to the rest of the appliances.

In the bedroom sliver of the living room, a fully dressed king-sized bed sat still, pushed against the wall and below the largest window. Its covers were a rich and golden display (of Professor's choosing, since he loved the color gold), splashes of metallic colors across a contrasting, dark background. The sheets were generically white, as there was no need to get patterned with something you wouldn't see. These coverings were perfectly done, sticking with the theme of scarily clean.

In the bathroom, it was tiny and actually more claustrophobic than cozy. It had baby blue walls, featureless and glazed with luminosity. There was a mirror, just barely leaving room on the wall, and one sink, polished. It was ready with two bamboo toothbrushes, one labeled with yellow tape, and one bare. A shower was built in, covered in glass and starring a sliding door, framed in silver.

In the laundry room, which rivaled the bathroom in size, there was a simple basket, washing machine, and dryer. It wasn't much to look at, and was as blank as the previous room.

Throughout the house, the floor had clearly been vacuumed multiple times. Everything had been thoroughly scrubbed with cleaning supplies, leaving the faint yet distinct sent of lemons-- it was all scented, and it was much more preferred than the smell of bleach or vinegar.

Cherub was stunned. This was vibrant and diverse and was everything that Shangri-Spa never provided, in terms of a living space. They stood in silence, staring out at the miniature landscape around them, taking it all in. Professor anxiously wrung his hands.

"I-I understood that I would be gaining a roommate, so I may have-- well-- gone a bit overboard with cleaning everything. And fixing up everything. I didn't want to seem like I'm lazy or unappreciative of my surroundings. Is it.. is it enough?"

"Is it enough?" Their voice shot up an octave, conveying their shock at his words.

He jumped, then instinctively grasped the lip of his hat, beginning to quake. His fingers, like when he opened his bag for Cherub, trembled as he tightened his grip on his hat.

"Please don't yell at me, I just wanted to make.. things perfect..!"

They grabbed his arms, grinning as wide as they possibly could. They beamed at their new home, and felt so loved and appreciated by this.

"Professor! Yes, yes, it's even more than enough! It's amazing! I can't believe that my first home down below the Spa is going to be like this, oh my gosh!"

He shook away the terror and paranoia glaring on his face, and opened his mouth, unable to form words.

"It's so hard to describe how-- how happy I am! Professor, you've really outdone yourself! This is all for me? It's outperforming, beautiful, breathtaking, I-- whatever random words can describe it!"

"I-- I had not expected you to act like this. Yes, I had

[just-another-wasteland-merc]

Mass Effect AU!

So, I mentioned that I have an Em and Mac Mass Effect AU in the Fic Writer Meme, and I finally decided I should share the bare bones of it. Whether or not it turns into anything is up in the air. I may just end up writing it for myself unless it garners interest, then maybe I’ll throw it onto my ao3 account. But below is where it’s at! @asaara-writes, you seemed interested, so have a look! Anyone can, really, or I wouldn’t be posting it here!

Also, this spans from before the first game, all the way to the end of ME3, so what you see under the Keep Reading is indeed long. But here’s the summary:

So, we’ll start with Mac first. 

Mac is still an orphan, growing up in Earth’s slums, stealing, lying, and fighting his way to survive like he would post-apocalypse. Doing odd jobs and saving all of his credits so he could get off Earth and make a life for himself. Right around he turns 18 or so, he’s finally got enough credits to finally leave the planet, and gets going on a transport first to the Citadel to find some decent work. Turns out, Mac hates the Citadel almost as much as he hated his life on Earth. He can’t stand the bureaucratic bullshit near the Presidium, and the thin veils in the Wards between the “haves” and the “have nots”. He hates how people like him are, in essence, hidden away to only emulate that the Citadel is a great place to live and only shows the elite prancing around like their shit doesn’t stink.

He can’t find decent work, or at least none that lasts. He either gets fired for showing up late or even drunk (because let’s be real, he started drinking young here too), or the company he works for shuts down not long after he’s hired. 

He’s not weirded out by the aliens, even though seeing them for the first time on the transport from the Citadel, all he did was stare. He finds that he likes the asari, and probably hooked up with more than one during his time on the station, but nothing there tripped his trigger enough to want to stay.

So he heads to the Terminus Systems. The transport he’s on gets hijacked on the way out, and it’s either join the Blue Suns or die, so Mac joins, since they’re more likely to accept a human into their ranks than the other gangs. FINALLY he has steady work. He runs a few security stints, a few larger operations, and pulls off assassinations like he would as a merc in the wasteland. 

He still meets and marries Lucy, and still has Dunc, but by then he’s got a more permanent thing on Omega. Since he’s part of the Blue Suns, he doesn’t have to pay his own protection fee in the district that everyone else does. He lives in the district he “protects”, so why should he have to pay his own organization? Mac absolutely still lies about his job to Lucy, saying he just “runs security” for a few people, and then sometimes has to leave the station, but never for long. Yes, she still dies. A gang war suddenly erupts as people are still out and about, and Lucy is caught in the crossfire and is gunned down. Mac scoops up Dunc and runs to the nearest Blue Suns stronghold to take shelter. He has to explain a lot, since he kept his family very separate from his job, so a lot of his “friends” didn’t even know he had a family, and now he’s appearing with a kid he claims is his son. 

It sinks in hard that Mac has to get Dunc off of Omega if he’s gonna have a better chance at life than Mac. Right around then, one of his bosses offers a job with a transport and enough credits to cover for the job, since he’s been trustworthy up until then. He gets the “keys” and the cash, and as soon as he hits the mass relay to leave the Omega system, he turns tail and runs, stowing Dunc away on the ship. He bounces all over the Terminus, knowing that as soon as the Blue Suns figure out that he’s gone, they’ll be on his ass. He doesn’t stay on a planet for more than a week, but is finally able to ditch the stolen ship and hitch a ride back to an Alliance controlled system. He heads to a backwater planet, and uses the credits he stole to help set up some housing for him and Dunc, and lands a steady job (doing what, I dunno yet). 

I would say that he’s not a biotic. He wouldn’t know what to do with it, let alone get the schooling he would need to control it. Dunc isn’t one either. He’s seen what non-combat biotics can do, and there’s the little bit of thrill, but he doesn’t really care if someone is one or not. 

Now.. Em.

Em is Alliance. In this case, she’s not a medic, but she's a Vanguard biotic with assault rifle training and the bonus Reave (don’t worry, she’s still extremely nice and nurturing). She was born on a small, backwater planet (not the same as where Mac is right now), and once her parents figured out that Em was a biotic, they sent her to the best schooling they could. She got a lot of grants to go to these schools, and the Alliance offered to pay for her schooling, and give an added bonus if she committed at least one enlistment period to them. She was given the choice when she was a teenager, and agreed. She sent 100% of the bonus back to her parents to help ease the debt that they were in. It helped with a good chunk, and her parents could breathe easier. 

During her time in the Alliance, she becomes almost instant friends with Shepard. She does her thing, heading to new planets, meeting new lifeforms, living the dream of an explorer and as a soldier, and climbs the ranks pretty quickly. She eventually gets engaged, but her fiance is as horrible to her as he was in Fallout. He just shows it a lot earlier, and not as the tragic figure I paint Nate.

She’s in good with a few high ranking admirals. Just like Shepard looks to Anderson as a fatherly-figure type, Hackett takes an intense interest in Em's career. They’re as good of friends as they can be without breaching protocol. But one night, she’s standing at Hackett’s door with a fresh scar on her face, the ring’s off her finger, and she’s begging to be transferred, something she absolutely never does otherwise. He takes her in, transfers her under someone else’s command, and court-martials her ex-fiance. Because I hate him too, he faces criminal charges too cause they find stuff in his quarters, probably Hallex.

So Em’s transferred to a backwater planet to get away and just do something fairly mindless to help her forget. 

To the same planet Mac is now on. 

Em patrols around the medium sized place, and very literally bumps into Mac, who’s just doing his job and minding his own business. He gets frustrated from being ran into, and she’s very apologetic. Mac doesn’t buy into the whole “nice” Alliance crap. They didn’t help him, so why should he be nice to them? Their first meeting ends there. He moves on, and she just kinda keeps patrolling.

The second meeting goes worse than the first. Em is on patrol a few days later in the same spot, and sees a model fighter skitter past, and a small “ow”, as if someone small had tripped and fell. She picks up the model and heads over to Dunc who scraped his knee. She crouches down and comforts him, gives him some medi-gel to heal up the scrape really fast, and hands him his toy back. Dunc is happy and thankful, but Mac appears and accuses her of trying to hurt his son and she should just stay away from them because he didn’t do anything and he doesn’t understand why she’s suddenly so fucking interested. She tries to explain that he fell, and she didn’t hurt him, but he’s not having it. He scoops up Dunc, and tells her to leave them alone. 

She’s obviously kind of sad because she really was telling the truth, and she just wanted him to believe her, even if they never saw each other again. 

Dunc, meanwhile, does tell his dad that she didn’t hurt him at all, and explains that she actually helped him. He shows the medi-gel still drying on his knee, and it makes Mac feel like an asshole.

So a few days or probably a week passes by, and Em’s at the local bar, off duty and enjoying her time off. Mac appears, looking at first for a drink and then notices her. He turns away at first, rolling his eyes, because of course seeing her is gonna ruin his night and he finally has some credits left over for a few drinks. But, he thinks better of it, rolls his eyes again, picks up his drink, and heads over to her. He doesn’t offer a greeting. Just plops himself down in the seat next to her and grumpily apologizes to her. He explains that his son vouched for what she said earlier, and that where he came from, people don’t usually help others out of the goodness of their hearts. 

She accepts his apology after a bit, and they end up chatting for a while. He learns a little bit about her, even from what she doesn’t say, and he doesn’t tell her much, but he offers that he had only been on the same planet as her for only a few years. 

So let’s fast forward a little while, probably a few weeks to a month or so, and both Em and Mac eventually end up liking that she’s on patrol. Dunc warms up to her a LOT after their first meeting, and Em offers to let them come along with her on some patrols. It’s never super far, but she shows him a few really pretty spots, and some good spots for food in the town they’re at (I’m assuming Mac has his few spots that he knows and likes and that’s it). Eventually, they get to be really good friends. 

But one night, he has her over for casual drinks and whatever (they start doing this regularly), and they over-indulge. Not enough to get into bed together, but enough for secrets to be spilled. She confesses that the scar she got wasn’t from a badass fight, but that it was from her fiance. He confesses that he was part of the Blue Suns, but that he left, and the way he left has him scared that they’ll eventually find him. 

Em just listens, and as much as her protocols tell her that he should be put under arrest, she doesn’t. She feels she knows him enough to overlook his criminal past, because in her mind, he was just doing what he could to survive, and she promises that if the Blue Suns ever came for him, she would protect him and his son. They talk about it for a while, and she learns that he’s a really good sniper. She doesn’t judge him, just accepts him, and he feels he can relax more around her, especially since he’s told absolutely no one this. 

She eventually receives orders that her tour on this planet is over I would say that it’s about a year to a year and a half after Em lands on the planet that she would have to leave, so the pair have plenty of time to get to know each other. She gets an Earth standard month to get ready to leave, but it puts her in an awkward position. She doesn’t want to leave, but she knows she has to. 

Basically, she looks him dead in the eye and confesses that she has romantic feelings for him, and that she has to leave. Knowing that he may never see her again, and that he actually does feel the same, he confesses his to her. Em basically finds out where she’s going, and does some sweet talking, and secures a spot for Mac and Dunc on the ship, and offers to take them along. He’s wishy washy at first, but then remembers her promise to protect him, and he agrees. They pack what they would need, sell the rest, and say their goodbyes. For once, he’s not running. He gets to follow her and see some of the same stuff that she does, and he ends up not really minding life on a ship. 

Her new assignment is on the Citadel. Mac is basically yelling “FUUUUUUCK” into the vacuum of space. But he just begrudgingly goes with it, because hey, he doesn’t have to worry about bills anymore. He can just get the stuff he needs by handing a list to his new girlfriend and she gets it for him under the Alliance’s credit chit, since everything she would ever need is paid for. He does a few odd jobs to keep himself occupied, but nothing that would last more than a few days (on his terms), but after a while, they hear of the Normandy coming into dock from its maiden voyage. 

Suddenly, both of them are thrust into the crowd of meeting Commander Shepard. Em and Shepard instantly recognize each other, and they catch up briefly. Mac isn’t super jealous but he makes it a point to ask if they were a thing in the past. She says no, he doesn’t have anything to worry about, because all she sees in Shepard besides a friend and a CO is maybe an older brother figure. (Maybe they went to the same school, since he’s also a biotic in my playthrough)

When Shepard becomes a Spectre, he seeks her out to come along with him, and agrees only if Mac can come along. Dunc is in school at this point, and Mac doesn’t just want to uproot him, but notices Hackett is staying on the Citadel, and since Em really trusts him, Dunc goes to just stay with Hackett (and I hc that he becomes the best grandpa ever when he’s not on duty) on the condition that they’re allowed to call each other whenever they want or need, like if Dunc is upset about a bully or a bad grade in school, and when Mac needs to call his boy for like, an update as to where they are or when they’ll be back to the Citadel. I like to think that Shepard does visit the station regularly so they aren’t completely separated, and because there are a lot of things to do there.

Basically, during ME1, only Em is available as a squadmate to go with Shepard. 

They don’t join Shepard during ME2, but Em does sometimes feed him info from time to time on major happenings. She uses fake accounts, an IP scrambler, and all that jazz to stay out of trouble from both the Alliance and Cerberus. She doesn’t do it often. She doesn’t want to risk her career, as much as both Em and Mac want to help Shepard. They also have a sense of permanence together. Since the gap between ME1 and ME3 is about three years, they have a normal, healthy relationship. I would say that about a couple of months before ME3, Em and Mac know pretty much everything about each other, and a few weeks before Shepard returns to Earth for ME3, they get married. Mac eventually gets formally approached by Hackett during this gap to join the Alliance. One tour with Em, and his criminal record would be erased. (The Blue Suns never find him, btw)

Shepard returns to Earth, and Anderson assigns them to Normandy sneakily so they can ride with familiar faces after Shepard is cleared of the charges from working for Cerberus. 

Aaaand the Reapers come. They take Earth first, just like canon. 

But Em and Mac’s first priority becomes very, very clear as the world basically ends, and that’s Get. Dunc. To. The. Normandy. Now.

So for ME3, both Em and Mac are available to go with Shepard on away missions. If both go along with Shepard, they will engage in conversations, like “I hope Joker made sure Dunc strapped himself in before he did that flip.” (I like to think that Dunc hangs out with Joker while on board. He would hang out with everyone, but I think he would like to sit in one of the chairs and would absolutely steal EDI’s copilot seat when she gets up just to hang with Joker)

As much as Mac didn’t like being on Earth, or growing up there, he is pretty devastated to see it be attacked like this. Em feels absolutely terrible, because she knows he grew up there, and offers her support, but tries to establish contact with her parents on her home planet. They get to correspond briefly, but eventually the Reapers come for her planet too, and no one is able to get out in time. 

Anyway, they ride around the galaxy just like you would in the game, gathering anyone and everyone they can to take back Earth. They eventually get everyone they can, and head back. They get to the final run, and are gathering all of their forces, but Em suddenly faints right before the “go”. Shepard and Mac see this happen, and both of them cart her to the makeshift clinic. Em can’t come along to the final run anymore, since she fainted because she’s now pregnant. Shepard says absolutely not, they can do the run without her, but he’s really happy for her (Shepard totally romances Liara. They’re my OTP with my M!Shep). Mac is really happy too, but he’s also scared. Like “I’m so scared because this is the end of the world, but I’m so super happy.”

So Shepard heads out on the final run, and just like the game, Shepard almost makes it before he gets hurt. Em, being Em, runs out to help Shepard up and get him to the Citadel so they can get the Crucible online. She won’t hear about it later because she’s not about to watch her best friend die before he can save the galaxy one last time. So she helps him up and they get beamed up to the Citadel.

Shepard chooses the Destroy ending of the trilogy. It blows the station apart, and they’re trapped under rubble for a while. They’re eventually found, but Shepard is barely hanging on, and Em’s in and out of consciousness, but also majorly hurt even though she was further back than Shepard. She wakes up for more than a few minutes on the surface of Earth again, back in the makeshift clinic. She sees Mac, and as soon as he sees her open her eyes, he’s sobbing. Very emotional from everything happening. And everyone is okay, eventually.

[seoadsposts]

Is it possible to get loans with bad credit history?

There are many situations in life where you may need some financial help from sources other than your own salary. The need to apply for a loan may arise for different reasons and at different times in life.

When you are young, you may need extra money to pay for training expenses or stay while you study. Later, your washing machine or a car may break down at the least opportune moment ... or the tickets to make the trip of your dream are at a good price. The list of possibilities is endless. Here are some of the main reasons people apply for payday loans.

To solve medical emergencies

No one is safe from an accident. A shock, a fall, an acute illness. All these scenarios mean that there will be a medical bill at the end of everything and it must be paid. This situation is especially delicate because health issues cannot wait long. So, it is very normal that if you have to go to the doctor urgently and do not have the necessary capital, ask for a loan.

To pay for a vehicle repair

Having a car is a great advantage because you save time. You also stop worrying about whether the route passes on time or not. Of course, when something breaks down, it's terrible. Well, most people use the car to go to work and do their things. If you have to change any part or make a complete service, the cost increases. This type of event is also a common emergency. A frequent reason why people ask for a loan and go to an auto shop.

Cover the cost of returning to school

Maybe you have children, more than one, so August is a date that you have well in mind. There are countless things to pay in those days. The tuition, let's not forget the list of supplies that seems endless. In addition, there are uniforms, daily and sports. The odd fee for something at school. Transport or failing more gasoline to leave and pick them up. If there are trips or excursions, of course, you have to pay for it. Festivals and special days are subject to extra expense as well.

Make an emergency payment

In addition to the other emergencies, it may be that someone lent you money and now they have an emergency and need to be paid. Maybe there is a great event, such as a wedding or Christmas. And you need extra money for gifts. Or it is summer and your family dreams of going to the beach on vacation. It may be that there is a really good offer on something you need and this is the best opportunity to acquire it.

However, there are times your loan application may not be accepted because of bad credit history. What could you do if you have a bad credit history and need a loan urgently? There’s a solution to that but you need to choose wisely according to your situation.

Can I get a loan with bad credit history?

This question does not have a clear answer: everything will depend on the individual situation of the applicant. Yes: there are loans for people who have bad credit but let's see what the fine print is.

Certainly, there are some situations in which it is not convenient to apply for a new loan. If, for example, you are having serious difficulties paying your monthly fees, you should contact your provider and negotiate a more appropriate calendar and amounts. It is important that you always evaluate your financial obligations realistically.

Keep in mind how much you can set aside and return over time. There are many offers and sites that accept poor credit and offer personal loans to people with debts, but you must calculate if you can manage the payments.

If you continue to default on your payments, there is a possibility that the company sends your data to a debt collection agency, which could cause problems when applying for new credits in the future. Most financial institutions conduct history checks before confirming the granting of credits, and this also applies to personal and bank loans.

Some smaller loan applicants decide that consolidating them (that is, asking for a larger loan to pay off the smaller loans) is a wise and practical measure. It is an option that generates fewer complications and probably saves interest. In that case, the indebted person not only does increase his debt but also improves his situation.

When applying for a loan of any kind (from online loans to a mortgage or a student loan), it is important to have a clean credit history. This is beneficial even if you do not need financial support at this time since life is long and you may end up specifying it in the future. However, if you need loans urgently and don't have time to clear your credit history you may be forced to review your options and take out a loan for people with bad credit history.