#wish kyra could somehow take out the guys

[colinodonoghueseyebrow]

Well that was a shitty double eviction.

[writing-in-april]

Manicured

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: Spencer finally lets Reader do his nails.

A/N: Another short cute fic here for my twenty-sixth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April!! I wanted to make it short but sweet- it’s based on this request (this is not my first fic with Spencer with painted nails- check out on my MGG masterlist Painted Nails if you are over 18) Side note someone recently stole my work- please do not upload anything of mine to another site without my permission. Feel free to leave an ask in my inbox here (I promise I don’t bite) Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Nothing 🥰

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.2k

It wasn’t often that Spencer and I had a day to ourselves, even an hour sometimes felt like a rare occurrence. Today, there was no case, no bad guys to be chasing, and there was even no paperwork to be completed. You were sat on the bed peacefully with Spencer, not daring to point that out out loud as it would obviously jinx it.

“Can I paint your nails?” You absentmindedly asked while fiddling with Spencer’s fingers in your grasp. You didn’t expect a response right away, or any at all as you had been asking to paint his nails for a while. Everytime he always said no, maybe later. So, you kept asking until he said yes.

Today seemed like a random day for him to finally agree, but Spencer tended to get you by surprise often. You almost bolted up in surprise when he simply replied, “Yes.”

Now you were sitting across from him, his hand in yours and a towel placed underneath to collect any spills. Eagerly you started immediately, already having the perfect design in mind for him. Using the brush to swipe over his nails, you then coated his nail in purple colored polish. It was his first experience having polish on his fingers.

Naturally he was intrigued staring down at you intently with his tongue slightly peeking out from his lips, like he was putting all his effort into analyzing exactly what you were doing. Just as you finished that finger he said, “This is so fascinating, you have such control over the brush.”

That had made you burst out into a fit of giggles, his tone making manicuring nails sound like the most serious thing in the world. “Practice makes perfect.” Was all you could manage to say as you tried to hold back your laughs and continue your job.

Eventually you finished his first hand, it already looked like a masterpiece to you, accentuating Spencer’s features in a striking way. He of course continued to stare down at them like he was trying to somehow see each molecule of the polish and understand how it dried on the nail so perfectly.

“I don’t think you’ll figure out all there is to know about nail polish yet by staring at it.” You said as you moved to his thumb on his left hand while he looked at his finished right.

“No, I’ll need to read some books for that.” He replied while his focus was still completely on the nails that were covered in shiny lacquer. Until he then looked up to ask you with eager eyes, “Do you have any books on it?”

“No, I don’t Spencer- I’m not a nail tech.” You laughed out once again, but found it very endearing that he thought you might have some.

“We’ll have to go to the library for that then.” Some people would say the internet would be the best bet to learn about this, Spencer always learned best by books however, and despised all technology for the most part. You then finished up with the design on his pointer finger, immediately going to the next to repeat the design on a new nail.

It was a call, of course from Spencer’s work phone, suddenly interrupted your progress on his nails. You hoped it wasn’t another case you’d both get whisked away on. He picked up the phone with his right hand, which was already completed, but still drying. Carefully with extreme precision, he answered the call and brought it up to his ear, making sure he didn’t smudge any of your hard work.

“Hello- this is Dr. Spencer Reid.” His voice had switched into his purely professional mode, while you continued to add the finishing touches to the matching design. You did make an effort to speed up the process in case he had to up and leave, though you did wish you could’ve taken your time like with his opposite hand.

“Hey- kid check who’s calling before you answer. It’s me, we have a case.” You could faintly hear Morgan’s voice come through the phone and you had to fight a groan when you heard the end of his sentence. Seems like you both were already jinxed.

“Y-yeah, ok Morgan we’ll be there in about 20.” He was now squinting down at his watch, hunched over you almost hitting your head in the process while you tried to finish up the last nail.

As soon as he hung up you were just about finished with the last little bit of your design that was a range of Spencer’s favorite color purple with some dashes of black and grey. It would certainly match most of his work clothes he normally wore, you hoped he’d keep the polish on.

“Done!” You shouted triumphantly at the last swipe of clear polish, sealing in your art. When he peered down at the finished hand curiously another pang of worry that he’d want to immediately wipe it off shot through you. “Are you- going to keep it on for work?”

He looked at you incredulously, and then completely squashed your worries with his sweet words, “Of course I’ll wear it to work, it’s perfect and- you did this for me.”

—

“Reid- what is on your nails?” Morgan clocked them as soon as Spencer entered the bullpen with you. He had walked in with pride, not necessarily flaunting them, but certainly not hiding them. And, when Morgan pointed them out he jutted out his fingers in pride, showing off the pretty polish that had by now dried. Though it had been a challenge for him to get all his clothes on, he didn’t end up getting them smudged thanks to you.

“It’s nail polish? Have you never seen it before Morgan?” Spencer quipped at him which seemed to have taken Morgan by surprise as his eyebrows raised up high.

Any answer Morgan could give to him was swallowed up by the giddy voice of none other than Penelope Garcia, “Oh. My. Gosh. Spencer got his nails painted!”

“Y-yes I did!” He withered a bit under the attention as he was not used to it. He bounced back quickly when he realized she wasn’t going to make fun of him.

“Where did you get them done they’re amazing?” Penelope was now holding up Spencer’s hand, and the congregation grew as more members of the team arrived to get a look at his nails. Little did everyone know who was the real artist that did them, and Spencer was happy to correct her with the real answer.

“Actually, Y/N did them.” Penelope almost immediately shifted her focus back on you bombarding you with questions on your technique. Spencer happily played a hand model, which you swore could be a career for him in an alternate universe, while you explained everything to the people around you. It was mainly Penelope who was interested, but Emily and JJ really seemed to like your color choice for Spencer saying it was ‘his color’. Even Morgan peered over inquisitively a few times, mainly when your voice jumped higher because of excitement.

“What are you all doing?”

“Looking at Spencer’s nails, Sir. Y/N did them!”

“Are you sure that’s a very professional look, Spencer?” Hitch’s hard face was difficult to read as always, you couldn’t tell if he was about to demand he take it off right away or not. He hadn’t seemed to mind when you came in with nail art on, or Penelope, you hoped this would be no different. When his lips that were almost always pressed into a thin line turned upwards you were taken aback, and even more so at what he said next, “Looks good- you’re really getting better at your manicuring skills.”

Ask Me Anything

—-

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[anotherbeingsworld]

Three Words

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x F!MC (Casey Valentine)

Book: Open Heart

Rating: G/ minor mentions of death. / Fluff.

Summary: A rewrite of some scenes from book 1 and book 2 where Casey and Bryce experienced the three words in their lives. (Some elements from canon were incorporated, but it mostly imagines)

Prompts: Day 22 of @choicesmonthlychallenge ; March - Day 22: Those Three Words

A/N: Surprise??? Another fic as this is my submission for @choicesmonthlychallenge ! I been eyeing this day's prompt and I hope it fulfilled the needs of the prompt. This story is like imagines of the three words in different parts of the book. It is a very rushed fic, but I enjoyed writing it! I hope all of you enjoy it - and I would like to dedicate this to @ruiruicchi, maybe it will make you smile! Enjoy! 💖💖 (I apologize if there are any grammar mistakes)

//Tags under the cut!

MASTERLIST

The special three words, a lot of combinations to emphasize the uniqueness of those words. It wasn’t said freely as hesitations are leading upon the revolution of our feelings to be translated into words. Some took a million lifetimes, as the journey for both Casey Valentine and Bryce Lahela was told as – it changes both of their lives in a good way.

--

I appreciate you

The unexpected tears that fell during her first day as an intern were now invisible, as she lets out a chuckle during the conversation between herself and Bryce in the storage closet. Somewhat, an attempt to cheer her up – and it is working. The smile on her face was visible.

The day began horribly for her, and it's one of those beginnings that would make it into the history books for one Casey Valentine.

She felt comfortable in his arms as they hug, giving her some sort of comfort that was much needed that day. Bryce’s strong arms gave the peaceful and safe feeling inside of you, as both of you sat in silence.

“This is nice, you are a pretty good hugger.”

His smile is visible from the compliment, as he replies

“Thank you, it’s one of my many many talents”

However, the invisible pull suddenly leads Casey to a lean forward for a kiss on the first day at Edenbrook with someone that felt like home, comfort, and peace until they were interrupted by a resident making them both laugh at the sudden interruption.

“Maaaaaybe, we should get back to work”

His wide smile, makes her heart fluttered somewhat feeling butterflies once more.

“The guy somewhat kills the mood huh?”

“He kinda did” As she lets out a small laugh before adjusting their clothes and their hair in its usual look.

Both of them stood in silence, as Bryce starts to make his way out. Casey stops him in his tracks and pulled him into a hug once more.

“Hope I cheer you up a little then?”

“Just a bit, but…thank you.” She placed a small kiss on his cheek, as they broke away from the hug going into separate ways as his advice was tattooed in her heart.

--

I like you

Liking someone, adoration is an understatement on what she felt towards one Bryce Lahela. She adores him – and, she adores what he brings to the table. A nice face, a nice body (of course), his skills and talents. But, one thing that stood out to her was his confidence.

Bryce was somewhat embodying a model walking down a runway – and, she aspired to be like him. The feeling of not giving a damn on anybody is something she struggled with for some time now. But, as time goes on – her ‘friendship’ with Bryce grew and she felt that surge of confidence inside of her. It was the same period where she realizes that her feelings towards the scalpel jockey grew – it was more than an acquaintance but, not yet a lover. Somewhere between those lines of two different feelings.

The feeling grew, as they spend much time together especially during the breaks they had. He always had an idea for a new adventure, either it was a concert, a random bachelorette party, or even sneaking into a gallery above an OR was considered an adventure with the one and only Bryce Lahela.

The moment where it all comes together – was New Year’s Eve. A start of a new year, and a start of their second year at Edenbrook.

After their mini celebration along with the others at Donahue’s – the night keeps on going for them both. It was a routine for them, something they have been doing together in the past year since knowing each other.

“How about our usual walk tonight?” She suggests as they both head out of the packed bar behind them, as it was only them.

“You read my mind there Casey.” He smiles as they both took their jackets with them, as the chilly night could somewhat be a risk of them getting hyperthermia in one way or another.

The night was cold and calming, as they walked hand-in-hand which becomes a routine for them.

“So, any resolutions for the year?”

He didn’t think as he lays out some goals of the year which seems to be relevant,

“Score some surgeries, slay on the surgeries, and get more surgeries.”

She laughs before slapping his arm, as he shakes his head upon the action.

“Okay – okay, maybe grow as a person? To be honest, I am the kind of person who-

She cuts him off,

“Who follows the flow of life?” He nods confidently as they walked upon the park trails.

“What about you?”

She thought about it for a second before laying it down,

“Be the best doctor I can be as I’m joining the diagnostics team this year.”

“You are already the best Casey.” He stops in his tracks facing her, as he pushes a bit of her hair covering her eyes.

“But, it doesn’t feel enough. Working on the diagnostics team is a dream come true – what if I screw up Bryce? It is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.” She lets out a sigh.

“Hey, you won’t screw it up, Casey. You are the best intern in the whole darn hospital and you deserve to be on that diagnostics team. I believe that you are amazing and good enough Casey Valentine – I hope you believe it too.” He replies as he pulls her into a kiss, as she felt her feelings blooming since that day. Nobody believes in her as much as he does since the very first day and she is very very grateful for it.

--

I love you

The scalpel in his hands shakes, as her name was mentioned by Dr. Delarosa from the gallery. It somehow felt like an impulse move – as the anxiety inside of him started to rise. He took a deep breath, calming himself down as he spoke to Ines.

“Is Casey in there?”

Her voice seems small from above the gallery, as she lets out a yes. His hands were still shaking, but somewhat it calmed itself down, fear started to fill in his head over Casey’s condition.

“Bryce, take a deep breath. Casey needs you to be calm, she is a fighter.” Ines’s voices boomed through the speaker above, as he took deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself down.

As the wave of anxiety has left his system, he focused on saving Kyra on the table – as his thoughts for her were a motivation for him to not fail.

And, he didn’t. The surgery was a success and Kyra is alive.

He ran as fast as he could, wishing and hoping that she is okay. He arrives and was met in a sealed room, and she noticed him in a split second.

She looked exhausted and different. However, she is alive. He lets out a breath he was holding, as he places his palm upon the glass that separates them both meeting hers.

“You’ll be okay.” He mouthed behind the glass, as she smiles happily meeting his eyes feeling satisfied for the first time today.

As the others were working on the cure – he walked into the room with a hazmat suit, meeting her eyes as she lays upon the hospital bed.

“You came, how was the surgery? How is Kyra?” She asked, as his smile giving all the answers she needs.

“She is alive and well, but she hasn’t heard about this yet.”

She nods in understanding, somewhat a revolution was made in her mind.

“What if it is the end, Bryce?”

He looks at her, trying his best to smile.

“It’s not going to be the end, Casey.” He replies with a reassuring smile on his face, as they lay together on the hospital bed.

“But, if it’s the end…I am glad to spend the last night I have with you.” She said softly, gazing upon his eyes behind the suit. He smiled painfully upon the response.

“Do you remember when we first met?”

She smiles, remembering their memories together as it becomes a topic of the night for them. As the night starts to fall, both of them were accompanied by the moonlight shining in the room. She felt safe in his arms, but it doesn’t feel the same. And suddenly, in a tired voice – she spoke to him.

“If I die tonight, I know I’ll regret not saying this earlier – but, Bryce Lahela; I love you.”

He was silenced, taken aback by it. The room was silent, as she immediately found herself drawn into a slumber safely in his arms.

“I love you too Casey.” He whispers in her ear, with a pinch of hope in his voice that everything hopefully will be okay, and she will be okay.

THE END.

Tags:  @bitchloveskcbaseball , @mvalentine , @storyofmychoices , @princess-geek , @lahellacute ,   @annekebbphotography , @mrsbhandari , @dcbbw , @choicessa , @fantasyoverreality98 , @baltersome , @ofpixelsandscribbles , @thundergom @starrystarrytrouble ,  @kelseaaa  , @choicesficwriterscreations  , @lalizah , @drethanramslay , @eleanorbloom , @openheartfanfics , @brycesgirl  ,  @freckles-spangledvampire , @agentnolastname , @robintora , @adriansbiss  (comment if you want to be tagged or removed 💜💜)

[madrut16]

Weathering the Storm (Bryce x MC)

Author’s Note: I wrote this in an hour right after this past Open Heart chapter so if the quality is a little down, that’s why. I just had to get all my angst out somehow. 

Book/Pairing: Open Heart (Bryce x MC); hints at platonic Rafael x MC

Rating: PG-13 

Summary: Ally and Bryce have a deep conversation about recent events. Set right after the end of Chapter 9 of book two. 

@the-unconquered-queen​ @endlesshero1122​ @kinda-iconic​ @partygodlahela​ @lahellacute​ @moty-oph​ @fandom-trauma​ @sankakuen​ @otomegamesaremydrug​ 

If you want to be tagged in future Bryce fics pls let me know and I’ll add you! (I got more drabbles completed to share sdjksjksd)

“I’m leaving town.”

Ally’s head reeled from Rafael’s words, a bittersweet feeling running through her adding yet another layer to the burdens weighing on her. She was gonna miss running into him, having him as a friend. He often reminded her how to take a break and forget about the grind and mental drain that came with being a doctor. But, he seemed happy to be doing this, finally having a sense of direction after his suspension. Like he was setting himself free. She trusted that he was being honest about it being the best thing for him right now. 

The fog on her mind from this and the other things pressing on her stress levels was heavy, causing her to barely pay attention to where she was going. 

“Woah. Careful Ally,” Bryce commented.

Walking right into him she stumbled from the impact. “Oh!”

He quickly took hold of her arms before she could lose balance. “Easy there. I only need one patient now.”

Her cheeks turned a faint shade of pink as her heart stopped hammering in her chest. 

“Sorry I’m...kinda out of it right now.” she swallowed, looking back to where Rafael had once stood minutes earlier. “I can’t believe he’s leaving.”

Bryce followed her gaze, nodding slowly. “Yeah, I overheard. I’ll miss him being around. Someone who isn’t here all the time.”

“Me too. You don’t think it’s...anything we did right?” she asked suddenly. “I keep thinking about that roommate dinner last year...how he felt so out of place. Maybe he...still does?”

His attempt at a half-smile failed, making her pause. Bryce could fake one better than anyone she knew. “No, I don’t think that’s it. He just...needs a change of scenery I guess. I don’t blame him, I wish I could just...teleport somewhere with everything so bleak here.”

“Like everything is going to come crashing down at any second?”

“Yeah, exactly.” 

They stayed silent for a while both absorbed in their thoughts. Until Ally’s drifted to a certain patient.

“How’s Kyra?” she wondered. 

It was Bryce’s turn to snap out of things. “Oh, she’s stable. She’s getting prepped for the OR in a little bit. I wanted to let her rest a little longer.”

Ally noticed as his forehead creased with worry. This made her stomach sink with dread. He was never visibly nervous, especially not before a surgery. But, this wasn’t an ordinary operation either.

“Bryce, thank you for doing this,” she told him softly, hoping to reassure him. “Even if...”

She trailed off, unable to finish the end of the sentence. 

“I meant what I said earlier Ally. She deserves to be fought for. To have a miracle.”

A lump forming in her throat as tears pricked her eyes from the sadness and exhaustion. “I know.”

He opened his mouth to say something before closing it, uncertainty swimming in his eyes. 

“Bryce?” 

She met his stare silently encouraging him to open up to her. 

Sighing, he asked, “Do you...do you think I’m doing the right thing?”

“What do you mean? If it’s worth it?”

He nodded. “What I said...about how it’ll hurt...I downplayed that,” he confessed, his gaze far away once more. “It’ll feel like torture, possibly for the rest of her life. When I was in med school, I observed a patient who had this done. Listened as the guy cried out in agony for four days straight. Several months later, my...mentor who performed the surgery...he actually got sued for malpractice. Turns out, the patient was still in that much pain. Luckily nothing came of it since the doctor warned him about the risks but...”

Her eyes widened in horror. “Oh my...that must’ve been horrible to watch.”

“It was. Which is why...I wonder if this is worth it. To watch her go through the same thing. Or would it be better to just...let her go?”

Ally was at a loss for words. Biting her lip, she pulled him in for a tight hug which he readily accepted. Somehow, the pressure of everything felt less burdensome now. 

“I don’t know,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I don’t know.”

Somehow they would weather this storm but for now, all she wanted was to stay like this. In his arms safe and sound. 

[moonprincess92]

Rebelcaptain fic: 182 days

“Day 36  Their bed was bone-chillingly cold without him.” 

Read on AO3 

    Day 0 

    Something had gone very, very wrong.

    Whispers hit the Echo One hangar almost as soon as the call had come through. How it had been spread, no one could say – I was told by some guy in data analysis, I think Solo mentioned it in the mess, I don’t know everyone’s talking about it – but either way, the whispers soon became shouts.

    The transport was coming in.

    “This is transport 83A7, Rogue One, requesting immediate landing!”

    “Acknowledged, Rogue One, is everything–?”

    “No, no you didn’t hear me, we can’t just go through the usual landing procedures, we’re coming in NOW – oh – oh hell –”

    “Calm down, is that Officer Rook piloting?”

    “Yes, yes, that’s me – be advised, we have severe injuries on board!” 

    The hangar waited on tenterhooks.

    Maybe it was a mark of Bodhi Rook’s call and the utter desperation in his voice, because no one skipped landing procedures, even for injuries. That was how outsiders and Imperial spies invaded. But their transport was taxing in only moments later and the officers and pilots clung to their projects, hiding behind helmets and x-wings, not wanting to be obvious, but needing to know everything that was happening. Rogue One was infamous throughout the entire wider rebellion, after all.

    But no one had expected this.

    Day 1

    Jyn Erso knew she was unfortunately awake, but she kept her eyes closed. She refused to move. She would refuse to breathe if there was any chance of it actually doing anything. Her throat burned to swallow, although it kind of felt like her entire body was burning, if she was being honest. The harsh lights of what she knew was the sickbay were sizzling behind her closed eyelids, but she crinkled the skin, refusing to look.

    Her head was spinning wildly and she knew she was slowly losing control. She needed something to hold onto. Her hand reached out of its own accord, blindly sliding across the sea of sheets, grasping desperately at the first thing it touched. The other hand gripped her own tightly, squeezing her fingers hard enough that she was able to focus.

    Think. What did she know?

    Your name is Jyn Erso. You are a rebel soldier. Your husband is dead.

    She almost started screaming again.  

    She didn’t have a lot of memories of being moved from the transport to the sickbay. She barely even remembered the trip here. She knew she had lost a lot of blood though, and that it must have been quite the sight when they’d arrived. She figured that it was Bodhi, her friend no doubt panicking and white-faced, who must have carried her. The entire base would have seen him sprint with her in his arms straight to the sickbay, the usually stoic Sergeant Jyn Erso barely able to breathe.

    The gut-wrenching sobs that had wracked her would have reverberated throughout the hangar floor.

    (She was glad she didn’t remember).

    Day 4

    It had taken a long time to finally recognise the hand she was holding.

    “Jyn,” Bodhi had tears on his own face when she woke, her eyes bleary and her back throbbing with pain. “Oh, thank the Force, Jyn. I was so worried.”

    She silently scoffed, feebly shaking his hand away.

    The lights weren’t any less harsher than when she’d first been brought in. She was starting to be able to think clearly, which wasn’t what she wanted at all. Compared to this, she’d liked the floating disassociation the pain meds and the trauma had clearly put her in, but Bodhi was crying and watching her, and she couldn’t possibly push him away.

    “Are …” she croaked out. “were you hurt?”

    Bodhi shook his head. He looked like he wanted to reach for her hand again, but was holding back now that she was actually awake. “A few scrapes, nothing serious, nothing like …”

    “You can say it,” she whispered. “Nothing like me. Nothing like him.”

    Hiss SLAM.

    The sound of the blaster bolt hitting flesh suddenly and violently clawed its way back into her head. Before she could even blink, she was back in that run-down apartment, crouched on the worn carpet, back against the stained couch. Yelling, then running, and then without warning –

    Hiss SLAM.

    She wouldn’t forget it. Never could.  

    “I can remember …” she forced herself to say. “He’s dead … isn’t he?”

    A part of her foolishly hoped that she’d been mistaken. She had been half dead herself at the time, it was completely possible that her brain had just leapt to the obvious conclusion. But she would kick herself for thinking it if she could, because Bodhi wouldn’t ever lie to her and she could see the look on his face. Jyn herself even drilled into the new recruits that people died in this war and that it was something to simply get over, but Bodhi was staring at her white bed sheets now, unable to meet her eye, and she knew –

    “I’m sorry, Jyn,” he murmured. “I’m so sorry.”

    Day 8

    Jyn Erso was supposed to know death.

    First her mother and then her father, years later. Many people in between; thugs and mercenaries, Stormtroopers and comrades, nearly all killed in the name of war. She was well acquainted with it, death having followed her like an old friend her whole life. She could mourn. She knew how to eventually only think fondly and move on because that was all you could do when you lost someone. Almost all of Rogue One was gone, but she could remember Chirrut and Baze and their connection to the galaxy and to each other without losing herself at the same time. She could remember Melshi and how he’d had her back in the end. She could even remember the damn droid with affectionate regret (they never had managed to find his back-up drives, had they?).

    But this … how was she supposed to survive this?

    It was over a week before she even let herself start thinking of him. 

    Day 9  

    It happened like this –

    Two undercover rebels walk into a bar. It sounds like a bad joke. But they were confident and they could play the part well. The exaggerated affection was unusual for them in public, but no one knew them here, aside from their exasperated pilot who was listening in from their transport several miles away. They bought drinks and they were always touching somehow. Her hand was on his ass and he sucked her neck under the cantina lights …

    Their contact approached. 

    Day 19

    “Shit, I just feel so bad for her.”

    “Hey, half the time I can’t tell if she even cares or not – OUCH, HEY!”

    “UNCALLED FOR. You were there when she was brought in, I almost couldn’t listen to all that screaming.”

    “She had been shot, of course she was screaming. But she literally turned up for training the second she was out of the sickbay, that says a lot, doesn’t it?”

    “Weren’t they married?”

    “Yeah, like that says much.”

    “Oh, like you can judge, Mr. Never Had A Serious Relationship Ever.”

    “For the record, she’s always scared me a little. I liked Captain Andor, I don’t know, I kind of wish I could tell her sorry or something but she always looks like she wants to murder someone.”

    Many mumbles of agreement there (literally no one could deny that). 

    Day 25

    “We appreciate everything you have done for us–”  

    But Jyn cut Mothma off mid- what was clearly a well-rehearsed speech.

    “This sounds like goodbye,” she said, bluntly.

    Mothma stayed staring at her desk between them. She was uncomfortable. No one had been able to look her in the eye at all since she had left the sickbay. Lord knew Bodhi tried, but even he could only hold it less than a second, before his gaze was again flitting away. No one really knew how to handle her at all, which was probably half the reason she had been hauled into Mothma’s office to begin with.

    “We–” Mothma had always been well composed, put together. It was the one thing Jyn actually appreciated about the woman. However, in that moment, Mothma looked the most unravelled Jyn had ever seen her. “Sergeant Erso. I apologise. I should not have just assumed that you would want to leave the rebellion, given the circumstances–”

    “No, you shouldn’t have,” Jyn said.

    “In that case …” Mothma sighed. “Your place with us still stands. Your role as a part of the Intelligence team has been invaluable, as hard as it is to admit sometimes. Captain Andor was highly respected. On the behalf of the Rebel Alliance Council, we are sorry for your loss.”

    It was superficial. It always was. No one knew what else to say (mind, no one had ever really known what to say to Jyn Erso, even when Cassian had still been alive … but still). So they offered condolences, apologies. At first there had been nothing, but it seemed that a certain amount of days had passed for her to be deemed publically approachable or something, because now it was like she couldn’t get away from it. No matter where she went, she would be stopped by people she barely knew, letting her know they were thinking of her, that they would there if she needed anything, that they were sorry –

    Hell, she was the one who should have been fucking sorry.

    But it should have been expected. It hadn’t exactly been a secret on base that they were married and everyone had mostly liked Cassian. Jyn was just the wild rebel that he had made a wife of, who was known for her murder face, starting fights and making new recruits cry.

    If she’d been the one who was killed, no one would be mourning.

    Jyn gritted her teeth and said, “Thank you.”

    Day 36

    Their bed was bone-chillingly cold without him.

    Day 42

    It carries on – 

    “The Andor's, right?” their contact pressed, forcing Cassian to break away from Jyn’s neck.

    “That's us, Jeron and Kyra–” They all held out their hands to be shaken politely, like any potential assassins would. “We hear you can help us out?”

    “Depends,” Their contact, Jyn noticed, hadn’t introduced himself or even offered a name to call him.

    “On what?” she asked. “Money?”

   “On the job,” the contact pointed out. “This is how we do it – you write down a name for me. I take it away and think about whether it can be done. We meet again, and then we talk prices. Disclaimer now, I don’t do politicians or royalty, too much hassle.”

   “That must filter out a lot of your clientele,” Cassian pointed out.

    The contact just shrugged. “You giving me a name, or what?”

    They handed over the holo of Bodhi Rook’s face and a fake name – the worst part of the plan, in Jyn’s opinion, but the man had apparently refused to be talked out of it. “He’s lying through his teeth,” she snarled, watching their contact slink back off through the dirty cantina. “No politicians, we KNOW he murdered Senator Dalton!”

    Cassian’s arm was slung casually around her waist, although she thought she might have felt him tense slightly at her indignant words. “Bodhi, we made the deal,” he said into the commlink. “Congratulations, you have a hit out on you.”

    “Brilliant,” Bodhi’s voice came back through.

    Day 61

    After 2 months, they held a funeral.

    Though it wasn’t exactly a funeral, as there was no body and never would be. It was more a vigil, a short ceremony held, before the entire base could converge on the mess hall and proceed to get mind-numbingly drunk.

    Someone had even had the gall to ask her if she wanted to speak. She’d started a fight over that one.

    “You’re still here?” Bodhi leaned against the wall next to her. The lights were turned down low, casting deep shadows into the corners of the mess hall. Soldiers laughed, drinks were clinked and memories were spilled freely. It was exactly what happened when a comrade fell, but Jyn felt disconnected to all of it.

    “Free alcohol,” she just said in answer.

    Sometimes she asked herself that. Why are you still here? She had some loyalty to the rebellion, but most of it had just been for him. Cassian was the one thing she’d known she could always believe in. He wouldn’t ever fail her. In the initial days after Scarif, they had circled each other like satellites, struggling and unable to figure out the connection between them just yet. It had sparked under fire, it hadn’t been the right time to try and sort out their hearts when their heads were barely functioning.

    No, it had taken time. Her walls had been high to begin with, but Scarif had all but fortified them. Nothing was getting in, despite how desperately she had apparently wanted something to. They had danced around each other for weeks, unsure how to act, unsure about what to say (could anything really be said?). Until eventually, the need for each other had won out and they’d found themselves falling into bed together anyway.

    They had ended up married barely a year later. 

    “I …” Jyn had hardly spoken a word since the mission. But she spoke to her drink and whispered, “I miss him.”

    Bodhi knew better than to say anything in reply. He just pressed his shoulder to hers and remained silent.

    Day 63

    She gasped loudly as her still-healing wound suddenly stabbed at her.

    Several officers glanced around, but their gazes were quickly averted. People knew better than to make eye contact with Jyn Erso, the grieving soldier who had been forced to witness her husband’s murder. She made herself carry on punching the shit out of the sand dummy. She was straining too far, she knew, but she didn’t care.

    Let her bleed.

    Day 76

    See, it had all gone wrong – 

    “Negative, no one in sight,” Bodhi’s voice echoed through the commlink. “I don’t know, this doesn’t feel right to me, guys.”

    The apartment they were renting under the guise of newlyweds was a hole at best, but at least it offered them a roof while Bodhi was out in the pouring rain, waiting for someone to try and kill him. Jyn would have much rathered been tailing Bodhi, ready to leap in the moment the hitman appeared, but Bodhi had rightly pointed out that the hitman was clearly a professional and would surely notice if someone was following. So they were forced to stay put, stuck in the kind of building where screams and other loud noises were ignored and no questions were asked. Their plan was solid, but Cassian’s hand on her knee as they listened together on the couch was almost too hard.

    “Relax,” she muttered, hoping that Bodhi wouldn’t hear.

    “I am,” Cassian said. She shot him a look, and he let out a huff of breath, pressing his nose to her hair for a moment.

    Suddenly, Bodhi’s voice was tinny and panicked. “Oh, hell – this isn’t good–”

   “What?”

    “There’s wanted holographs all around the square here,” She heard the wet slapping of footsteps as Bodhi apparently ran. “For me, for my actual name, wanted as a traitor to the Empire – shit, I didn’t know this was Imperial-occupied territory–”

    There had been absolutely no records that indicated such a thing and Jyn exchanged a hard and fast look with Cassian, before they both leapt up, moving to pull out weapons –

    “What did you tell the hitman about who I was?” Bodhi asked fearfully.

    “We said you were a jealous ex.”

    “Oh, god. He has to know you were lying! He’ll put it together, he'll figure out you're Rebel Alliance investigating Dalton's death, quick, you have to get out of there–!” 

    BAM.

    The door to their apartment was blown backwards. Jyn dove as who was clearly an Imperial assassin stormed in, blaster bolts raining over their heads. Cassian returned fire as Jyn rolled to reach him. They pressed their backs against the back of the couch for cover. “He would’ve caught on the moment we handed over Bodhi’s holo!” Jyn sent three shots in perfect formation. Their hitman lunged to take cover behind the doorframe to the kitchen.

    “I’ll cover, you get out the window–” Cassian said. 

    She almost laughed. “Don’t even think about it–”

    But he ducked back down behind the couch. Before she could protest, he’d grabbed her around the waist and practically thrown her towards the window. “GO!” he yelled.

    Her heart was slamming in her throat. Their battery packs wouldn’t hold out forever. Logically, their best chance was for one of them to reach the window, escape, call Bodhi. Any other Intelligence team would have made the call without hesitation, and Jyn swore she’d one day make Cassian pay for forcing her to make the same choice.

    She ran –

    Hiss SLAM.

    The bolt got her from behind. Pain flared up and she hit the ground hard, still feet away from the single window and the fire escape beyond. Shit. Her flesh was burning. She felt like vomiting. She heard Cassian scream –

    “JYN!”

    Day 77

    She dreamt about it.

    Every night in their bed, she was forced to remember. How in his distraction, Cassian had been shot no less than five times in the chest. How Bodhi had arrived in record time, but still not fast enough. She was forced to remember what it had felt like to lie crumpled on the ground, bleeding and burning and unable to do anything. Her dreams made her watch the hitman move across the room and bend down to Cassian’s side, feeling for a pulse. Made her watch his satisfied expression when he stood once more.

    Made her remember when the hitman had seen her watching him, still alive.

    Jyn’s hands were shaking uncontrollably as she pushed back her sweaty hair. She hated the night terrors. She hated the icy chill of Hoth ripping through her when she was forced to change her nightclothes. She hated how she both despised staying in this bed, but was still unable to leave it. She hated that couldn’t accept this, hated that she was still struggling so many months later, hated seeing his face –

    She couldn’t muffle the sobs against her hands.

    Day 89

    (God, she wanted to die).

    Day 90

    Jyn had never seen Bodhi so livid.

    “What the HELL happened?!” he yelled, storming and shoving his way through the crowd that was curiously gathering. Jyn shoved aside the officer who had been helping her down the landing platform, ignoring Bodhi completely. He noticed her sway slightly on her leg and grabbed at her arm, but Jyn ripped herself from him as well. She wasn’t dealing with this.

    “It’s only fractured,” she bit out.

    “It's only –? You cut me off!” Bodhi cried, watching her limp determinedly through the hastily scattering crowd. “I didn’t have a clear view, you had no idea what was in that warehouse, but you just stormed in anyway!”

    “It worked out, didn’t it?” 

    “You have to stop doing this,” Bodhi said furiously, loping alongside her. “Throwing yourself into danger like this, you’re going to get yourself killed! Oh, wait, sorry I forgot – that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

    The barb was intended to hurt, but honestly it just hit her like a dull throb. Bodhi seemed more upset than she was at his words. His face immediately fell as she paused, more out of the pain in her leg than anything, but he didn’t know that. He hadn’t meant to say it. She could see it clearly on his face, but it didn’t make it any less true.

    The truth was that yes, she had basically no regard for her own life at all. The truth was that she missed Cassian with every fractured leg, every bruised knuckle, and every cracked rib that she ever got. Jyn Erso might have been clueless about falling in love, but damnit, she knew how to fight. She knew how to punch and shoot and she knew that the rebellion needed people to push the boundaries. They needed people with little regard for their safety, to be willing to sacrifice themselves for the cause. She could be that person.

    It wasn’t like he was coming back anytime soon.

    Day 91

    But she had apparently scared Bodhi a few times too many.

    Jyn had honestly lost count how often he’d been there for her. How often had Bodhi dragged her home drunk, or held her as she cried? He sat next to her every morning in the mess hall, made sure to drop by at lunchtime, and always dragged her to dinner. Bodhi hated confrontation, but would go off at anyone he caught gossiping about her. The man was her best friend. She’d never even asked him to do any of these things for her.  He had taken her self-destruction silently, allowed her to deal in her own way. It was what she had needed at the time … but now it apparently wasn’t.

    He sighed as he slowly sat next to her. His face was cast down, wary. She realised that not once, so far, had she ever even asked how he was doing.

    “I’m sorry for yesterday–” he began, but she roughly cut over him.

    “No, shut up,” She breathed in painfully, closed her eyes. “Bodhi, I think I need your help.”

    He glanced up. He searched her face and apparently found what he was looking for. He held out his hand.

    She took it.

    Day 101

    “I've been meaning to say I’m sorry,” Bodhi whispered to her. “I'm sorry that I couldn’t save him, too.”

    “Stop it, there was nothing to save,” She winced at the flatness of her voice. She was making an effort these days to try and fix that.

    “Still. If the hitman hadn’t still been shooting at us, I would have gone back for his body. You know, I would have, right?”

    Jyn leaned her head against his. “I know, Bodhi. I know.”

    Day 124

    The day of their wedding anniversary, she allowed herself to reminisce –

    “Jyn …" She ignored the way her name sounded more like a prayer than a call for them to stop. There was no stopping now. He pressed her deliciously against the wall of the storage room, fingers grasping at the collar of her jacket. He yanked it down, making way for his lips against her neck. She bit back a moan, her fingers desperately seeking out skin. His back wasn’t smooth; it was pockmarked and scarred, but right now it was hers and that was all that mattered. She caressed up his spine as Cassian made a noise somewhere in the back of his throat. He pulled her face back to his. 

    She should’ve known she was in trouble the moment she first saw that mouth.  

    He slid his fingers through her hair, down her neck. His lips were fierce, his tongue relentless. For several moments she lost herself in him and the way he consumed her. They had been dangerously close to this ever since Scarif, but the meeting earlier had no doubt tipped them over the edge. His hand on her thigh, the look on her face … something inside her had splintered, set alight. She pulled him closer into her by the hips and he growled. Oh, he could keep making that noise, it was all right with her. She could feel every inch of him, feel the heat spreading as they pressed and ground against each other and this was utterly terrifying. So rarely had she done this. So rarely did she form connections at all. Were they really going to do this? Were they really going to risk fucking up whatever it was they had for this? Was she really going to let herself fall ridiculously in love (because that’s where this was going, plain as day –)

    “Too cold,” Cassian suddenly gasped.

    Jyn was burning. Unable to comprehend, she muttered, “What?” into his mouth.

    “Can’t – not here –” Cassian said. “It’s too cold to take clothes off here.”

    She found herself grinning. 

    "Then let's find somewhere warmer." 

    Day 181

    Six months since the day she’d lost him, Jyn Erso finally made a decision.

    “I need a new room,” she demanded.

    Mothma glanced up. The woman clearly didn’t know what to do with her most days, but Jyn was still one of their best soldiers. She threw herself into her work and she got shit done. “You know we don’t just swap around room assignments,” she countered.

    “Something about ‘if we let one person do it, then everyone else will want to as well, whatever’ – I don’t fucking care,” Jyn thundered. “I need a new room.”

    Mothma watched her a long time before finally answering,

    “Ok. Report back at 1700 hours for your new quarters. I can’t guarantee,” she added, making Jyn pause as she’d spun around to leave. “that it will be a private room. Space is limited on base, remember.” 

    “I don’t care,” Jyn said. “Thank you.” 

    Day 182

    She had a debriefing scheduled, but apart from that, nothing else to occupy her. Jyn felt like visiting Bodhi, but she knew he was on guard tower duty all day and wouldn’t be clocking off until midnight. At least she even had someone who vaguely understood what she was going through. The man’s guilt was only rivalled by her own, but Jyn was always quick to stamp down the worries of who had become as good as her brother. No one deserved to be free from this more than Bodhi Rook.

    Speaking of –

    “JYN!”

    The screech made her start, along with several other officers who occupied the corridor with her. Bodhi came hurtling round the corner, nearly rolling his ankle in the process. “I’ve been trying – just saw you – it’s him, it’s him!”

    “What?”

    He crashed into her, grabbing at her arms. 

    “Hell, I – don’t think I’ve – ever run faster in my life,” he gasped. “I was on the guard tower–”

    “I know, I didn’t expect to see you all day–”

    “A freighter’s come in! Stolen, so we flagged it and shit, Jyn, IT’S HIM.”

    “What do you mean ‘him’?” She was truly alarmed now.

    “I can’t explain it, but it was Cassian’s voice and the first thing he asked was whether you were alive or not,” She only just noticed the smile on his face, his eyes gleaming. “COME ON!”

    Something stabbed at her heart.

    They stormed through the base. 

    A commotion was happening in the hangar. Curious and astounded faces peppered the crowd, pilots hanging out of their cockpits to witness the chaos the stolen freighter had caused. The Wookie, Chewbacca, had even stuck his head out of a vent on the Millennium Falcon to try and figure out what was going on. “He was taken to medbay!” one of the guard tower officers yelled at them when he noticed their approach. They quickly backtracked and Jyn was honestly surprised that half the hangar didn’t follow. She honestly didn’t want to make a scene when they reached the sickbay, but she knew she would punch anyone who dared try and stop her. Luckily, the med staff recognised her and apparently knew better. “He’s through here–” one of them pointed out.

    Bodhi hung back as Jyn pulled aside the curtain. In the literal minutes it had taken to run here, she’d known that she wouldn’t believe it until she saw him with her own eyes. It was too unbelievable. Too miraculous. The scar on her lower back was throbbing.

    … kind of as if it knew. 

    He sat perched on the edge of the bed. He looked like he’d been dragged through hell backwards the last six months. His beard was wild and unkempt, and he held himself awkwardly, like his wounds hadn’t properly healed. His clothes were dirty and not his own, but then he looked up and saw her face and apparently, nothing else in the galaxy mattered.

    “Hey,” he choked out.

    “Hey,” she whispered.

    I thought you were dead screamed from every inch of him. He had seen her go down first, of course he would assume that she was gone as well. A part of her wanted to get mad and yell. Six months apart and he’d been out there the whole time, hurting just as much as she had been. She wanted to hit something. She wanted to ask what kind of stupid trick this was. She wanted to cry. She wanted to laugh. She needed to get her hands on him –

    His face said the same thing as she broke into a smile. His arms were up before she had even run into them. He’d tried to stand, but the force of her had sent him back onto the bed, his arms a tight vice around her waist. She’d never thought she would have this again, never thought she would get to hold him like this again, and she found herself climbing up onto the bed with him, crawling into his lap.

    She fisted her fingers into his hair and sobbed. 

    “Did I get a funeral?” he murmured.

    Thankfully, the medbay had just been precautionary. There wasn’t much they could do for Cassian that hadn’t already been done, and as such he had been quickly sent on his way. Bodhi had also cried and hugged the both of them for several moments before they’d left. Cassian had thanked him over and over for managing to save Jyn, even if he hadn’t managed to save him. Having been cleared for leave for the next several days or so (“Mothma literally said ‘come back whenever’,” Draven had reluctantly informed them) they had quickly retreated to their quarters.

    Their bed was suddenly warm again.

    One of the first things they had done was helping each other strip off their shirts and inspecting the scars that they now had. Jyn had sat hunched over with her back to him, shivering as his fingers had traced the old wound. Cassian’s chest had looked worse, but they were all just added to the collection of scars both their bodies hosted. Refusing to let each other go, they had simply crawled into bed together and there they stayed.

    “It wasn’t so much a funeral than a memorial,” Jyn murmured, on her side and her nose pressed against his chest. “I almost didn’t go.”

    “Fair enough,” Cassian said back, voice equally low. “I might not have gone to yours, either.”

    “How did you survive?” Jyn whispered. “The hitman … he checked for a pulse …”

    “He must’ve gotten it wrong. Maybe I did die for a moment, there. I don’t know, I don’t remember a lot,” Cassian spoke to her forehead. “It would have been hard to ignore a shoot-out, so someone must have called the police. I woke up in a hospital without a commlink and was told that there was so much blood from where your body had been that there was no doubt you were dead. I’m sorry it took me so long to get back here, I tried to send messages back to the rebellion to let them know I was injured, but–”

    Jyn was shaking her head. “I should have been looking for you, I shouldn’t have just assumed–”

    “Jyn–”

    “I shouldn’t have assumed you were dead,” Jyn said, fiercely. “From now on, I will only ever believe it with my own eyes and hands.”

    She looked up at him, but it hit her that what she saw on his face was familiar. It was the look of grief, the look of someone who had been through too much, and she saw that look whenever she caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror. She sighed and whispered,

    “I’m sorry.”

    “We’re both sorry. There was nothing either of us could have done, Jyn,” Cassian assured. 

    "At least I had Bodhi. You had no one." 

    He just hauled her tighter into his arms. "It's … been a rough six months," he admitted. “I mean, your body was missing so I guess a part of me hoped … I just can’t believe you’re here.”

    Jyn needed to see his face. Nose to nose, she ran a hand over the beard that had grown, before moving and tangling her fingers in his hair. “I love you,” she suddenly said. “Don’t ever leave me again.”

    He pressed his lips to hers. It was hesitant and greedy all at once, and she held him to her desperately. She wanted to claw at his skin until she could claim it as hers once more. He kissed hard, ferocious, rolling and pulling her on top of him. She knew better than to protest she might be hurting him. His hands spanned her waist, roaming until they were both breathless and soaring together. Losing Cassian had been like getting her arm chopped off, but now she was suddenly complete again.

    He was home.

    “I won’t.”

    They were home.

[wp-yahoo-style-1042-yahoopa-blog]

7 Looks From the ’90s Classic ‘Singles’ We’d Still Wear Today (And One We Wouldn‘t...)

Nothing makes you feel quite as old as realizing that millennials — that marketer-beloved generation born in the 1980s and 1990s — aren’t even the demograph du jour anymore. Nope, these days advertisers are starting to aim their messages squarely at Generation Z — the tweens and teens born from the early 2000s on, who don’t remember a life before the Internet (or before Miley Cyrus had blonde hair, for that matter) — the Snapchat generation, if you will.

But it wasn’t always that way. Once upon a time in a fast-fading era known as the ’90s, Generation X — the self-deprecating, cynical cohorts born in the ’60s and ’70s and named for a Douglas Coupland novel — captured our imagination with their indie rock-loving, slacker ways. Much ink was spilled (and it was, like, actual ink in those days) trying to decipher Gen Xers’ curious mix of self-effacement and painful sincerity (it was their divorced parents’ faults, probably). Those same two qualities also made them the perfect subject for a Cameron Crowe film — and it was that director who gave a specific set of Pacific Northwest, grunge-obsessed Gen Xers the romantic comedy that was arguably their most defining cinematic document: Singles.

Let’s get this out of the way: This year, Singles turns 25 years old, which is not okay on any level if you remember the era when Kurt Cobain was an actual guy who made music, and not just a dude on black-light posters. From the vantage point of 2017, it’s hard to say this light take on the romantic foibles of Bridget Fonda’s coffee shop waitress and Matt Dillon’s douchey frontman of grunge band Citizen Dick holds up terribly well. But as a loving record of the era before flannels, soul patches, and Eddie Vedder became ubiquitous — then completely unacceptable — it is something akin to a small masterpiece.

Of course, the ’90s are now is best known as an era that is being plundered for fashion trends, from the runways to high-street stores, which makes the characters’ style of particular interest — and makes it maybe not so surprising that, just like in 1992, we’d gladly wear pretty much anything from Bridget Fonda-as-Janet’s wardrobe. Other outfits — mainly those worn by the dudes, and Kyra Sedgewick as the commitment-shy Linda — sadly do not hold up quite as well.

Ahead, we take a look at the outfits we’d gladly wear today — and the ones we wouldn’t (they did you dirty with that baggy, butter-yellow cardigan, Kyra).

Let’s keep in touch. Follow Yahoo Style on Instagram, Facebook, and Pinterest for inspiration delivered fresh to your feed, every day.

Bridget Fonda as coffee shop waitress Janet, and Matt Dillon as grunge musician Cliff in “Singles,” which turns 25 this year.

Black leather jacket, minidress, black tights, and booties — not only has Bridget Fonda’s outfit somehow not aged at all — it basically just looks like the L train on any given Tuesday. Wish we could say the same for Matt Dillon’s very Pearl Jam man-shorts lewk. (Photo: Everett Collection)

Source: Yahoo Style

Bridget Fonda and Matt Dillon in “Singles.”

Janet’s grungy-meets-girly outfit is still super cute — she even adds a curved-brim dad hat in a very 2017 touch that would get a lot of likes on Instagram. Meanwhile, Matt Dillon is still insisting on wearing jams. (Photo: Everett Collection)

Source: Yahoo Style

Bridget Fonda in “Singles.”

Yes, Janet, come through with the jaunty flannel look! (Photo: Everett Collection)

Source: Yahoo Style

Here’s a closer look at Janet’s vintage minidress, worn under that black leather jacket. Reformation is probably selling this dress for $198 as we speak. We love the boom box and the general luxuriating here, but the Ayn Rand book — huh, somehow we missed that one 25 years ago. The ’90s: Before we knew that tanning and objectivism were bad for you. (Photo: Everett Collection)

Source: Yahoo Style

Okay, Janet’s look is a little bit “Benny and Joon,” but we could still see an especially committed Brooklyn vintage seller making this happen. Also, that laundry basket made me nostalgic in a way I can’t quite describe. (Photo: Everett Collection)

Source: Yahoo Style

Campbell Scott, Matt Dillon, Bridget Fonda, and Jim True-Frost in “Singles.”

There was a time when wearing a Bert and Ernie-style striped T-shirt like this was to immediately mark yourself as a cool insider who probably knew where the good thrift stores were. The ’90s: Our shibboleths were so simple then. (Photo: Everett Collection)

Source: Yahoo Style

Matt Dillon in “Singles.”

Okay, not sure if we’re fully ready for the return of the destroyed T-shirt layered atop the thermal, but Matt Dillon is serving pure smolder here, so we’ll allow it. (Photo: Everett Collection)

Source: Yahoo Style

Campbell Scott and Kyra Sedgwick in “Singles.”

Oh, Kyra – you deserved better than this baggy, butter-yellow afghan-turned-cardigan. Never forget that the ’90s weren’t all cute. (Photo: Everett Collection)

Source: Yahoo Style

[adubbs47]

Olicity Fic: The Long Game- Part 18

Summary: When notorious jewel thieves, the Canary and Oracle, find themselves on the wrong side of the Triad they must rely on Starling City’s vigilante, the Arrow, for help. Felicity Smoak and Sara Lance never expected that a simple job would turn this dangerous.But in this game of cat and mouse, criminals, jail time, and master assassins are the least of their worries.

Chapter Excerpt:

“I know I’m acting irrationally.” Oliver muttered hopelessly as his fingers began to twitch.

John shook his head in mild amusement. “I never said that.”

“None of you had to,” Oliver paused to glance at Tommy. “Although some of you have.”

Tommy turned back to move behind the bar while Roy remained seated next to Oliver, his shoulders still slumped in defeat.

“I don’t even get it. I should be handing her over to Captain Lance, not hiding her.” Oliver shook his head

John moved to stand in front of him, arms crossed over chest.

“She…She has done some bad things. She’s stolen from people, a lot of people. She associates herself with known assassins and I don’t know… I just can’t get her out of my head.”

AN: Thank you to those still interested in this story. As I was writing the next chapter I started to see a new direction forming which I’m very excited about. I hope that people who are reading are still enjoying it!

You can read the most recent chapter at AO3 and FF.Net as well. 

John Diggle was completely blown away. Their little blonde friend, who had expressed limited combat skills, had snuck away from them in broad daylight. Scratch that. She got away from an enclosed apartment on the seventeenth floor, with one exit. Now Oliver, Diggle, Tommy, and Roy were game planning what to do at Verdant. Felicity running away had surprisingly not crossed any of their minds. They had all been sure she would hang around. At first they suspected she had been taken, but it was too clean. All the previous attempts had been violent, not strategic.

“How did she get past you?” Oliver growled at Roy who hung his head between his knees.

Diggle knew that the kid felt terrible for losing Felicity after only being on watch for ten minutes. He didn’t blame him after the three men had worked so hard in the past 48 hours to keep her safe. He also didn’t think Roy would have slacked off on purpose, however it was that Felicity got past him was sure to be an interesting story - once they got her back.

“I told you,” Roy volleyed back to Oliver, letting his hands fall to his side. “The security system started chirping when we were on the couch. I went to check it and when I came back, she was gone.”

Tommy took a step forward, arms crossed. “The security console is by the front door.”

“She must have hid somewhere when he turned his back, and then left the apartment when he tried to look for her. Or someone else was involved.” Diggle tried to mediate. “Either way, it’s not his fault.”

Oliver pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head at the conversation. “What were you doing before the alarm went off? Walk me through everything.”

Roy sat back on the barstool, glancing over his shoulder at the few workers who had started their shifts at Verdant. Diggle could see the kid’s concern. He let Oliver down in a big way. Once Oliver brought Roy into the fold the kid had been bending over backward to impress Oliver. He looked up to the vigilante, and Diggle knew how this one mistake was affecting him.

“You two had just left,” Roy said as he gestured to Oliver and Tommy. “We had been sitting on the couch for about five minutes, maybe more, when the security system went off. I went to check it, punched in the code, and by the time I turned back she wasn’t on the couch anymore.”

“How long was your back to her?” Oliver shot out.

“Thirty seconds, maybe forty-five,” Roy sputtered. “It wasn’t long enough for anyone to have gained access or for her to have scaled the building. Those are the only two ways she could have gotten out.”

Diggle put a hand on Roy’s shoulder as Oliver turned from the group, cupping his neck in what could only be interpreted as frustration.

“It’s not your fault, man.” John Diggle wasn’t about to blame the kid, who they shouldn’t have left alone with Felicity in the first place.

The protection detail should have stayed between Oliver and him. They were trained and aware of what these organizations who were hunting Felicity could and would do. Roy was on his way to becoming strong enough and capable enough, but he wasn’t even in the same ballpark as the two of them. He was still too new.

If John had to guess, Oliver was thinking the same thing. The only people to blame for Felicity’s absence were him and Oliver. They brought her back to the States and they should be the ones protecting her.

“I think we just need to calm down.”

Oliver spun around to face John, letting his hands drop to his sides to clench into tight fists. “John, she is our responsibility and now she is just out there by herself.”

“She’s a big girl, Oliver,” John told him. “Yes, we rescued her in Russia, but we haven’t turned her over the police. She could have just given us the slip and that’s that.”

John watched as Tommy and Roy began to shift in their spots.

“I think the bigger question is why you are so concerned about this girl you’ve only just met.” John knew the answer, and he knew that pushing Oliver into it may not be the best move. “But I think we all know you know why you’re this attached to her, and it is not because of her ability to wear a red dress.”

Oliver slumped into the seat next to Roy. John knew that one of them should have stayed back at the apartment in case Felicity returned, but somehow he had a feeling that she would find them when she was ready.

“I know I’m acting irrationally.” Oliver muttered hopelessly as his fingers began to twitch.

John shook his head in mild amusement. “I never said that.”

“None of you had to,” Oliver paused to glance at Tommy. “Although some of you have.”

Tommy turned back to move behind the bar while Roy remained seated next to Oliver, his shoulders still slumped in defeat.

“I don’t even get it. I should be handing her over to Captain Lance, not hiding her.” Oliver shook his head

John moved to stand in front of him, arms crossed over chest.

“She…She has done some bad things. She’s stolen from people, a lot of people. She associates herself with known assassins and I don’t know… I just can’t get her out of my head.”

John nodded his head in understanding. The two of them could understand each other and the demons they each had. It was easier to love people when they knew your darkest parts and loved you regardless while also showing you their own darkness. John and Lyla shared the same similarities. They had both seen and done things in their past that they wished they could take back. Even though it was all done for the greater good, it still helped to have a partner who you could share that with.

Oliver hung his head lower while John placed his hand on Oliver’s shoulder. Whether Felicity came back or not, they were at least seeing a new side to Oliver’s journey. The side where he had to learn to forgive himself – Felicity or not.

“Thank you, Kyra.” Both men lifted their attention as Tommy came sprinting over to them while holding his phone. “Guys she left a clue!” Tommy directed to them as he nodded along with whatever his housekeeper was saying. “Yes, thank you, Kyra. I’d be lost without you…And Miss Lance, yes. I’d be lost without her too.”

John chuckled as he listened to Tommy thank his housekeeper once more before getting off the phone.

“Turns out my housekeeper thinks I’m having an affair, in the guest bedroom of all places, which I assume she believes makes me feel extra tawdry.”

“Tommy,” Oliver groaned.

John rolled his eyes. “Come on, man.”

“Apparently, Felicity left a note in the couch cushions, on purpose or not she left something we could trace.” Tommy smirked. “Let’s go find her and then we can figure out what to do next.”

“I’ll sit this one out, boss.” Roy slid back on his stool, the tension in his shoulders weighing heavily on his posture.

Oliver turned in his seat, clapping a hand on Roy’s shoulder. “You did nothing wrong this morning. I promise you that.”

Roy shook his head and turned back to the bar. “I’m still going to hang back here, in case she shows up or something.”

Oliver nodded, seeming to accept the young man’s reasoning, although skeptically. John nodded in Roy’s direction, a silent show of support. Roy did nothing wrong, he John had a feeling it would take a while to get himself there. Maybe he was more like Oliver than they gave him credit for.

~~~

Sara had left her thirty minutes ago. Just like that Felicity was on her own again. Well, not just like that. Sara hadn’t been excited to leave, which begged the question why was she? Felicity held her tongue, though, and watched Sara walk away, back to Nyssa and the League. She tried not to think about all the other people in her life who also walked away. All those people who loved her but didn’t love her enough to stay. There was always something else that was more important than her – careers, cancer, killing people, falling in love – which she knew she was unfair to blame on people. Some of those reasons were very valid, but they still left her alone, on a park bench.

Sara had been her family, her support, for so long that not having her was unimaginable. They should have had more time.

“You all right, miss?” A gruff voice sounded out behind Felicity, startling her in her seat.

Spinning around to see who the person was behind her, and to assess whether they were friend or foe, Felicity felt her mouth drop. She hadn’t realized she had been sitting on the bench for as long as she was, with tears trailing down her face. She probably made quite the scene. A woman sitting by herself, seemingly staring at the kids playing while sobbing on a park bench. Great. All the parents probably thought she was a creeper of some kind.

She should have expected someone to call the cops or call her out. It was any parent’s normal response to stranger danger situations.

What she hadn’t expected was Sara’s father to be the one they called. “I’m Captain Lance, with the SCPD. You doing ok?”

“Uhh, yeah?”

Captain Lance quirked his head to the side as Felicity tried to close her mouth to avoid looking less unstable. Of course she would run into Sara’s cop father after having spent the last thirty minutes crying over Sara’s decision to join the League of Assassins. Just thirty minutes earlier and who knows what could have happened.

“You sure you’re ok?” He asked again, this time walking around the bench to stand in front of her. “You’re crying in a park in the middle of the day.”

Felicity shook her head, feeling her ponytail swish back and forth with the motion, as she tried to come up with something that could get her out of this.

“Yeah, I’m ok.” She told him simply. “Just … saying good bye to a friend.”

Going with the barest form of the truth was the easiest way. Sara was always the better con.

The captain shifted back and forth before slipping his hands in his pocket. He seemed uncomfortable which was only slightly less than she felt.

“Ok, well…” His words faded off before he glanced around the park again. “If you uh, if you need someone to listen, I’m told I’m pretty good at it.”

Felicity felt herself jolt at Sara’s father offering a listening ear. She knew Quentin Lance was a good listener. Sara used to tell her all the time how well he listened and helped her solve her problems. He just couldn’t solve the very basic problem of Sara’s decision to run away.

“Thank you,” Felicity told him with a kind smile and a hint of sadness still in her eyes. All the missed opportunities were continuing to flash through her mind. “I’ll be ok, though.”

It was probably time to get back to Tommy’s or the lair beneath the night club. The guys were most likely well past worried and had probably moved on to furious. She also saw a long lecture in her future and a multitude of apologies as well.

Captain Lance smiled at her before turning to move on, stopping short before turning back to face her.

“You know, you remind me a little of my daughter.” Felicity felt her breath catch. “You’re probably around the same age, too.”

“Oh, I … thank you?” Felicity tried, unsure of how to respond. She hadn’t met Laurel so she couldn’t be sure which daughter he was referring to. The idea that she reminded him of his other daughter, his Sara, was hitting home in ways he could not know.

Captain Lance gave her a good humored smile and looked to hold back a laugh. “What I mean is, if she was alone somewhere and needed someone to talk to, which you obviously do, I’d hope that someone was there for her.”

He paused and glanced around once more.

“There’s a little diner just a block over. Best pie in town.” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “Why don’t we go get some pie and talk some? You’d really be doing me the favor. Some old guy wandering in in the middle of the day. They’d probably feel sorry for me.”

She could tell he was humoring her, but she didn’t mind. She could use the company.

“Ok,” she said with a nod. “Pie sounds good.”

The captain smiled at his victory as he stood. Felicity returned his smile, albeit slightly more reserved, as she followed his lead. The walk out of the park and towards the diner was a quiet one. It reminded Felicity of those times when someone asked her to hang out in high school. They only asked to be nice, and once she said yes they regretted it.

Not that she thought Captain Lance regretted asking her to join him for pie, and probably an interrogation as well. He seemed like a real decent guy, and she knew all of what Sara would tell her about her father. He was a good guy, the kind of man you wanted in your corner when the chips were down, or something along those lines.

Still, Felicity wasn’t used to people who were not Sara or Floyd asking her to join them without there being a catch. In high school she moved through the classes so effortlessly that she hadn’t had much time for people. Sure the older kids would marvel at her as she spent a few months in one of their advanced classes at such a young age.

Those kids only invited her over so they could cheat on their homework.

By the time she was fifteen she was already recruited into MIT and on her way to becoming well known in the field of technology and cyber security. That was the primary reason why she didn’t have many friends in college either. They were all too old to hang out with a kid. Or at least their egos were all too frail to hang out with a genius like her.

Sara and Floyd had been the only two people who made her feel like it was ok to be herself. They made her feel as though she was enough, and she was a person worth spending time with.

“You ok there, kid?” Felicity shook her head of the memories, noticing that they had come to a stop in front of the diner. “You seemed lost in space there.”

Felicity gave him her best warm smile, and hoped it didn’t seem disingenuous. “Nope, I’m ok. Just admiring the …” Felicity trailed off as she noticed the section of the street she was on. In the light of day the glades didn’t seem so rough around the edges. “Scenery.”

Quentin grunted something she couldn’t quite hear before ushering her inside. “Hey Dolores.”

Felicity watched as the woman behind the counter gave him a nod and gestured to the open booth along the wall. He must be a regular, she thought to herself as he put one arm out to lead her back to the booth. That meant he could have come here to get pie without anyone thinking he was strange. At least those instincts of hers weren’t completely lost.

The menus were covered in thick plastic, with frayed edges. The pictures of food were faded and noticeably older. The sticky feeling of old maple syrup left itself clinging to the plastic with a harsh crack as Felicity flipped through the pages, only half reading what they served. She imagined that being a diner in the Glades of Starling City didn’t really lend itself to new menus.

“So,” Quentin drew out the word as he took his seat across from her. “You doing ok?”

Felicity quirked her head to the side, letting the menu close on the table. “You do know that is the third time you’ve asked if I’m ok since you met me?”

Quentin gave her a smirk and folded his hands over themselves on the table. It was the kind of gesture Sara did when she knew something Felicity didn’t. Which didn’t happen often.

“Technically I haven’t met you.” He paused, eyeing the young girl in front of him. “You never did tell me your name.”

Felicity sat back in the booth, letting her arms drop to her side. “You make it a habit of inviting young women you don’t know to diners for pie?”

Quentin laughed at her bristled edges. She knew she sounded like Sara in that moment. Spending five years with someone makes you take on a lot of their personality quirks. That defensive move was a lot of Sara.

“Why don’t we start with your name?” He eased back off the table, an easy smile playing on his face.

Felicity shook her head before glancing around the diner. She didn’t want to make one up. She thought when Oliver brought her to Starling it meant she wouldn’t have make fake names anymore. She let a small part of herself hope that the cons and the fake lives were over.

Then she got caught by A.R.G.U.S. and became Felicity Merlyn. The dream of just being Felicity Smoak was getting further and further away.

She had tried google-ing herself over the years. She in fact made a habit of keeping alerts flagged for both her and Sara’s names, as well as a few key aliases. They had both done a good job of making themselves ghosts, well that’s what they thought.

Oliver Queen and John Diggle evidently were able to find them – with the help of John’s security company and most likely A.R.G.U.S. resources.

Still, saying who she really was had always been a risk. Especially with so many people after her. Putting Sara’s father in danger was not a chance she wanted to take.

“Felicity,” she told him simply.

Quentin paused as Delores came over with a pot of coffee and filled both cups without having to be asked. The older woman didn’t even both to ask for their orders, but just walked away with a knowing look on her face. It was as if this wasn’t the first time the Captain brought someone to the diner for a talk.

“Just Felicity?” He asked as he brought the ceramic mug up to his lips.

She nodded in turn. “Just Felicity.”

He nodded once as he swallowed the coffee he drank. “You live around here?”

Felicity glanced over her shoulder once more. While the diner was practically empty save them, Delores, and a few random people she still didn’t want to give up any information which might lead Quentin directly to her or worse, Sara. Sara was about to completely alter her life. Including her father in that, even unintentionally, was a bad move.

So Felicity answered as honestly, yet as false as she could. “Just passing through.” Quentin nodded again as he took the time to look her over. It was almost as if he was studying her.

“I get that you’re trying to be nice to me.” She trailed off as she took her own turn studying Sara’s father. “But you don’t have to. I’m fine and I have people.”

“You have people?” He questioned with a nod as his only response. “I’m not sure what kind of people leave you crying alone in a park. In my world those aren’t the greatest people to have.”

Felicity bit her lip at his words. If he only knew the truth he might not be saying that. He would probably be angry with her for letting Sara go. That was supposed to be her responsibility. Keep Sara from going and doing things without a plan. Felicity was logistics and Sara was action and that was how they worked. Felicity knew Sara didn’t have a plan and she let her go anyway. It was her fault.

Without even realizing it, her eyes began to well up once more. Felicity was supposed to have done better, and now she lost another person she loved. Sara wasn’t dead, but she lost the only family she had.

“Hey now,” Quentin muttered in a gruff tone as we pulled some of the napkins loose from the dispenser. “Anyone who makes you cry like that isn’t worth the energy.”

Felicity accepted the napkins gratefully but shook her head all the same.

“It’s not her fault, it’s mine,” Felicity mumbled over the oncoming tears. “I was supposed to keep things like this from happening. I was supposed to keep us together. She’s my family, you know? That’s what family does.”

“Felicity,” Quentin put his hand over hers on the table, causing Felicity to pause and look up at the man. “Take it from me, you can fight tooth and nail for your family but sometimes it doesn’t work out how you planned.”

She saw the way his eyes took on a bloodshot view and his voice became strained with each word. Quentin Lance was a man who knew exactly what Felicity felt. He lost Sara too, once upon a time. If anything he knew best how she was feeling, but she couldn’t tell him that.

“So what do you do?” Felicity asked, her voice waterlogged as she patted the tears from her cheeks.

Quentin cleared his throat before sitting back in his seat. His face became more solemn than before and he let his hands fall to his sides in the booth. The resignation clear on every part of him.

“You don’t give up,” he told her honestly. “When it’s family, you never give up.” He cleared his throat and sat a little straighter in the booth. “My youngest, my Sara, she uhh…she left us a few years back. She just up and left and we never heard from her again. She could be halfway around the world by now, and we wouldn’t know.”

Felicity tugged on the hem of her borrowed shirt nervously. If he only knew.

“Yet, even though she hasn’t tried to contact us and we don’t even have any reason to believe that she is even still alive, we aren’t giving up. I keep an eye on every report that comes through my office. My daughter checks in with her lawyer friends once a month. My ex, she does her own searches. We just keep up the hope Sara will come home one day. When she’s ready.” He paused with a soft smile. “And we’ll be here for her when she does. That’s what you do for family.”

Felicity took him in, Quentin Lance, the father of her best friend and unofficial sister. She knew that Quentin Lance never gave up on his daughter. He never stopped hoping Sara would come home.

So Felicity knew she would take his lead. If he kept hope that Sara would return, then so would Felicity. She would fight for Sara to come home. One way or another, Felicity was not going to give up on her friend.

~~~

Sara paused to lean against the wall of a red brick building on the inside of an alley she ducked into. Her breath was coming in short, deep gulps as is she was drowning and could only get relief for those brief moments when she broke the surface. Those brief, agonizing moments when all she could think about was that she had left Felicity behind. She had promised Felicity years ago that she wouldn’t leave her, and she just broke her promise. She knew she could not deny that she loved Nyssa. Sara belonged with Nyssa. Felicity knew that better than anyone.

Felicity knew what it felt like to search for something that your whole being ached for. The one think you felt incomplete without. For Felicity, it was her sense of justice after her mother died, which a trained mental health professional could argue went back to Felicity’s abandonment issues. With Sara, it was the lack of belonging. Being a con-artist was the ultimate out.

Just like Felicity and her journey, Sara kept creating new identities and new lives in hopes of one day belonging somewhere. Yet no one ever knew her, the real Sara Lance. Except for Felicity and now Nyssa, Sara had sabotaged her own attempts at feeling connected to anyone or anything.

“Well look what the cat dragged in.” Sara propelled herself off the wall, throwing her arms up in a fighting stance, as a voice she was all too familiar with startled her out of her thoughts. “It’s a little lost bird.”

Floyd stood off to the side, leaning casually against a dumpster, eye firmly rooted on an object in his hands she couldn’t quite make out. Something about the tone of Floyd’s voice and the way he kept his head down, not daring to look her way made her keep herself on alert. She reminded herself that this wasn’t the same man she knew.

“Floyd.” Sara heard her own voice shake as she began to speak. “We’ve been worried.”

He nodded but still didn’t look her way.

“Felicity and I went to Russia to find you. The Triad tricked us and nearly had the Russian Bratva assassinate us.” Still nothing. “But you knew all this. You knew because you helped them. Didn’t you, Deadshot?”

Sara spat the name out as though it left a sour taste in her month. That got his attention as he finally lifted his head to look her way.

“I’m sorry you had to find out that way.” He didn’t sound sorry, or at least not completely. “When I found you in New York I went against all my instincts and thought I could train you. I could do one good thing in my life and give you a fighting chance out there.”

“You did give me a chance.” Sara assured him. “I can get why you lied, sort of. I get why you didn’t want us to know the truth.”

Floyd shook his head. “Do you? Do you really understand, Sara?”

“Yeah, I do,” she told him as she took a step towards him. “You were trying to protect me. And Felicity.”

It happened fast. Faster than Sara anticipated Floyd could move. One minute she was finishing her sentence and ready to start another and the next minute she was flat on her back with something inserted into her upper arm, piercing the black leather of her jacket.

“You don’t know anything, little bird,” he whispered in her ear.

[lucreziavignola]

EDEN (by Gaming Pixie)

>Click to Start

(chiede il nome)

Good luck! {>Continue.}

Something isn't right today. You don't know what it is. >But you do have a feeling.

You have this strange and eerie feeling SOMETHING is going to happen, but you have no idea what it is. >That is, until....

That is until your supervisor shows you the lab's new specimen. "We're not sure what it is," he says. "But it can't be human." >You take a look.

You take a look at the specimen and try to conceal your horror. "Are you sure it isn't human?" you ask. Your supervisor just shrugs. "Keep an eye on it," he says. "I'll be back in a few minutes." Then, save for the "specimen" in the holding cell, he leaves you all alone. >You feel conflicted.

The creature in the cage looks like a person to you. Different, perhaps, but either human or so close that it hardly matters. "What's your name?" you ask, hands curled around the bars. The specimen... no the prisoner wearily shakes their head. >You decide to rescue the prisoner. No. It's safer to keep your distance.

(SCHERMATA DEL GIOCO: UN’IMMAGINE DI UNA SORTA DI CUORE ROVESCIATO, BLU E ROSA, CIRCONDATO DA FIORI, GIALLI E VERDI,IL E’  TESTO BIANCO CON LA SCELTA IN BLU, SU SFONDO NERO. IL TESTO CAMBIA AD OGNI SCELTA E IL GIOCO INIZIA CHIEDENDO IL TUO NOME, COSA CHE HO TROVATO PARTICOLARE PER IL GENERE. DA SUBITO CAPIAMO CHE IMPERSONIFICHIAMO QUALCUNO E LE SUE SCELTE ACCOMPAGNATE DALLA DESCRIZIONE SENTIMENTALE DEL PERSONAGGIO, TROVO CHE QUESTA SCELTA AIUTI A EMPATIZZARE CON IL/LA PROTAGONISTA.

LE PRIME SEI POSSIBILITA’ DI SCELTA SONO UNICHE, IL PRIMO BIVIO LO ABBIAMO QUI, DOVE CI TROVIAMO DI FRONTE A UNA SCELTA QUASI ETICA A MIO PARERE: SCEGLIERE SE AIUTARE O MENO LA CREATURA, PORTANDO AVANTI UN’AZIONE NEL GIOCO. LE SCELTE PRECEDENTI SONO STATE DI DESCRIZIONE E UNA DI AZIONE.)

You whisper to the prisoner, "I'm going to rescue you." The prisoner stares, disbelieving, and asks, "Why would you do this for me?" This person speaks perfect English, albeit with a curious accent you've never heard before. "Because it's the right thing to do," you say. >Let's get out of here.

Your supervisor's been careless. He left his cell keys on the table. Your hands are shaking as you fumble with them, searching for the right-numbered one. Aha! >We're outta here.

This rescue is going surprisingly well, and it looks like no one's around. You take the prisoner's hand and... >and....

You don't know where the guards came from. They shoot you both dead. >What a gruesome end.

(IN QUALCHE MODO QUI CI TROVIAMO DAVANTI AL PRIMO FINALE, CHE NON POSSIAMO EVITARE E CHE INIZIALMENTE MI HA FATTO PENSARE DI AVER GIÀ FINITO IL GIOCO. L’ACCOMPAGNAMENTO DELL’URLO HA LA SUA IMPORTANZA DATO CHE ABBIAMO AVUTO IL SILENZIO FINO AD ORA)

You've had the same dream for three nights in a row. (Well, actually, the last three mornings since you're on the night shift.) It never ends quite the same. Maybe you're just THAT depressed your vacation is ending now. Anyway, it's time to get ready. Who do you see in the mirror? >I'm a woman. I'm a man. I'm neither, actually.

(QUESTA È UNA SCELTA DESCRITTIVA CHE NON HA DAVVERO IMPORTANZA NEL GIOCO).

I need to get more rest, you think. You shower, you groom, you dress, you grab breakfast. >Time to face the day.

You get to work on time like you always do. After all, getting ahead takes making a good impression. Though the "good impression" you've left on some, you could do without. >Hang up your coat.

You put away your coat and purse and head for lab A-3. As usual, that Aaron guy chases you down to make smalltalk and say how he loves your hair. You don't like him, honestly, but you try to be polite. So, you smile and nod and say "Gotta go" as soon as you get the chance. >So, what's up?

When you get to lab A-3, almost no one is there. You ask an acquaintance named Kyra, "What's going on?" She tells you, "Check B-2. While you were gone, they brought in a real, live alien and everyone wants a look." "Are you sure it's all right?" you ask. She says, "It's fine. I'll cover for you. Besides, Jones is there and he wants to see you." Jones being your supervisor, who's called you "brilliant" before. >Go to Lab B-2

Phones aren't allowed in the basement labs, so you leave yours in your mini-locker. You go to lab B-2, where they keep the most secret of secrets—even for this place. You only earned clearance a week ago and you're eager to see what's inside. You swipe your card through scanner. The door unlocks. You go inside. You notice there's a card reader inside the room as well—likely an added precaution to help keep whatever's in here from escaping. Everyone is "Ooh"ing and "Aaah"ing over the new specimen that's in the cell in the corner. You nudge your way through the crowd and... and.... >Oh my God.

(SIAMO TORNATI ALLE SCELTE SINGOLE DI DESCRIZIONE)

Huddled behind those cold steel bars is the most beautiful creature. Beautiful... and if not human, close enough that it hardly matters. You're absolutely haunted by this creature... no, this person's mournful eyes. The captive is wearing loose gray prison clothes—pants and a short-sleeved shirt. You believe this ethereal being.... Is male. Is female. Is neither. >Is MESMERIZING. You'll work out the details later.

(ANCHE QUESTA SCELTA NON È’ PARTICOLARMENTE RILEVANTE PER PORTARE AVANTI LA STORIA, INFLUENZERÀ IL SESSO DELL’ALIENO DURANTE LA PROSECUZIONE DELLE SCELTE. DA QUI PARTE UNA MUSICA TRANQUILLA)

This person is simply beautiful, beautiful beyond reason. You've never seen anything like them before and doubt you will again. "What... how...?" you ask Jones. It's difficult right now to voice coherent thoughts. Luckily, he knows what you mean. "We're calling it Eden," Jones replies. "Agents discovered it three days ago in a field not far from here, captured it and brought it in for study. We believe it's an alien lifeform." "Can they speak?" "It seems physically capable of speech, but we don't know its language. And that's why I wanted to see you." >Why me?

"Why me?" you ask. "Several of us have tried already, but the creature won't respond. Essentially, it's your turn." As good an answer as any. You kneel in front of Eden's cell. "Hello," you say quietly so as not to frighten them. "You probably don't understand me, but... I'm not here to hurt you." Send them away, whispers a gentle voice in your mind. Please. Send them away. You blink in surprise since it isn't your voice. It must belong to Eden. It sounds.... >Exactly like you'd expect. Different somehow.

(ANCHE QUESTA SCELTA E’ INDIFFERENTE NELLA STORIA)

Their voice sounds exactly like you'd expect: calming like autumn rain. >But back to Eden's request.

Eden asked you to clear the room. You look back and say, "Eden is telepathic. They asked me to ask everyone else to leave." Silence. The other scientists exchange puzzled looks and mumurs about the brain scans they took and how they were "different" from a human's. "All right," Jones says. "But I want a full report on your findings." Now, it's time to >talk to Eden.

You ask Eden: Where are you from? Why are you here? Why did you pick ME? >Eden, how are you feeling? Can you tell me your real name?

You ask Eden gently, "Eden, how are you feeling?" Eden stares at you for a long time. "You're the first one here to ask me that sincerely," they say softly. Their eyes are shining with tears. "Thank you. I am.... I've been better." >Ask more questions.

You ask Eden:

Where are you from? Why are you here? Why did you pick ME? Eden, how are you feeling? >Can you tell me your real name?

Or

That's enough questions for now.

You say, "I'm sure your real name isn't Eden. That's just the name they gave you. If it's all right, could you tell me your real name?" Eden smiles. "Maybe later. But not yet." >Ask more questions? -Or- That's enough questions for now.

You and Eden both are silent for a while. You feel sorry for their being held captive like this, but what can YOU do? You're not in charge of anything here., and you feel horrible for what they must be going through. How can anyone approve of keeping this gentle, intelligent person as a thing to experiment on? Try to console Eden. >Ask what Eden wants.

(LE VARIE SCELTE TI PORTERANNO AD AVERE DIVERSE INFORMAZIONI, CHE NON POTRAI OTTENERE PIÙ AVANTI, MA SONO TUTTE SCELTE DESCRITTIVE CHE TI DARANNO IL BACKGROUND DEL COPROTAGONISTA. LA QUANTITÀ DI DOMANDE CHE CHIEDEREMO È’ INDIFFERENTE, FINIREMO A SCEGLIERE SE CONSOLARE EDEN O CHIEDERE CHE COSA VUOLE, ENTRAMBE LE SCELTE PORTERANNO EDEN A CHIEDERE IL NOSTRO AIUTO)

"I don't understand," you whisper to Eden. "Are you.... Do you want something?" Eden lays their hand on yours through the bars of their cell. Then, they tells you mind to mind, You're different from the others. I thought you might help me. >You're not sure you can help. Let's make a plan.

(A QUESTO PUNTO LE NOSTRE SCELTE DIVENTREANNO RILENVANTI PER IL FINALE. A SECONDA DI CIO’ CHE SCEGLIEREMO POTREMO O PROSEGUIRE NELLA STORIA O TIRARCI INDIETRO. NEL SECONDO CASO SE SCEGLIEREMO DI PROSEGUIRE NELL’IDEA CHE SIA TROPPO RISCHIOSO ANDREMO AL FINALE:CODARDO)

"I wish I could help you," you tell Eden. "I don't have much influence here, but if there's anything I can do to make things better for you...." "I know," Eden says. "You'll try." >Maybe... there's a way? It's just too risky.

Eden wants to get out of here, and you want to help them. Since Eden can reach your mind-to-mind, you decide to see if it can work the other way. With all your concentration, you think, Eden. Can you hear me? Eden answers, Yes. Is there anything you can tell me that might help me get you out of here? Things you've noticed? Certain abilities you have? Eden says, If I'm close enough, I can "communicate" with technology and alter it with my mind. I can do it most accurately with things I'm actually touching. I can sense the presence of other living beings. And I doubt they've found my ship since it was cloaked when I left it. If I could use something as a tracking device, I could find my way back to it. Do they know what you can do? They only know about my telepathy. And that's only because of today. Hmm. >Figure out your next steps. You're having second thoughts.

You and Eden work out a plan. Communicating mind-to-mind makes it go by quickly. Eden's technomancy skills can turn your card into a master key. They can likely disable security cameras and alarms as well, provided they can get close enough—and in very little time since destruction takes a lot less nuance than recreation. (You're glad theyhaven't tried that with the lock on they cell. Cell locks STAY locked if they're tampered with at all.) Also, perhaps most importantly, they can reconfigure any smartphone locate their ship. Since the cell has a keycard lock (located across the room and out of Eden's range), freeing them won't be a problem. The problem is that after that, you need to get them out of the building without getting caught. First, though, you take out your keycard so Eden can work their magic. You do your best to keep it hidden from camera view, knowing there's one behind you pointed directly at the cell. It's done, Eden says after a minute or so. It can open any electronic lock now. You put the card back in your lab coat pocket. Now, you can free Eden. But first.... You need to get your smartphone. >No, Nab a phone on the way out.

It's better to nab a phone on the way out. The coast is clear right now and you don't know when or if you'll see Eden alone again. Presently, Eden seems very focused on the camera on the wall. Trying to connect with it, maybe...? Anyway, you tell Eden, I'm going to unlock your cell. Then, you can disable the camera and get out. Eden says, All right. >It'sShowtime.

(TRA LE ULTIME QUATTRO SCELTE, LE PRIME TRE SONO SCELTE DI AZIONE RISPETTO A CIO’ CHE VOGLIAMO FARE. DALL’ULTIMA LA MUSICA CAMBIA, DIVENTA VELOCE E RIESCE A DARE LA SENSAZIONE DI AGITAZIONE CHE IL/LA PROTAGONISTA STA PROVANDO. DA QUESTO MOMENTO LE SCELTE SARANNO IMPORTANTI PER IL FINALE)

Quickly and subtly, you unlock Eden's cell and walk to the door, waiting for Eden to take care of the camera. You hear an odd crackling sound; the room's lights flicker into darkness and the emergency lights near the floor come on. You reopen the lab door with your keycard. A peek into the hall confirms that power has gone out. It might be overkill, but it's useful overkill. Regular staff will be leaving now. However, with such a suspicious outage (and perhaps suspicious camera footage), it seems like a sure thing they'll be sending in some guards to investigate. Once you've confirmed the coast is clear, you tell Eden, "Let's go." But since you didn't get your phone, you still need to grab one on the way out of this place Time is of the essence, especially if you alert the guards. Rush ahead while it looks clear. >Better to be cautious.

It's a good thing you held back. A guard just rounded the corner. Get back in, you tell Eden. I'll hide behind that counter and >HOPE he doesn't come in.

(LA SCELTA TRA ESSERE CAUTI O AFFRETTATI NON CAMBIA LA SCELTA SUCCESSIVA.  LA NUOVA SCHERMATA E’ ACCOMPAGNATA DA UN’IMMAGINE: E’ LA MAPPA DEL PIANO A CUI CI TROVIAMO. CI SONO LE VARIE STANZE DISEGNATE IN BLU, LE UNICHE DEFINITE SONO LA CELLA DI EDEN, IL MAGAZZINO, L’USCITA E LA SCALA CHE PORTA DI SOPRA. A QUESTO PUNTO PERO’ SUCCEDE UNA COSA STRANA. LA SCELTA SUCCESSIVA NON E’ SEMPRE LA STESSA. LA PRIMA VOLTA MI E’ APPARSA UNA SCHERMATA NERA E HO DOVUTO RICARICARE IL GIOCO TRE VOLTE PRIMA CHE MI FACESSE CONTINUARE. LA SECONDA VOLTA CHE HO GIOCATO, PER PROVARE NUOVI FINALI, MI HA PORTATO AD UNA TERZA SCHERMATA CON ALTRE SCELTE NONOSTANTE LE SCELTE PRECENDETI SIANO STATE LE STESSE.)

The guard walks into the room and only gives things a cursory glance as if he just wants to go home. Then, he yawns and leaves. Once you no longer hear footsteps or think anyone is out there, you check to >see if the coast is clear.

The coast is definitely clear now. No one is in sight or hearing besides you and Eden. You can head right for the storage room to get a disguise for Eden, go upstairs to get your phone, or >check rooms on thisfloor to see if one has a phone. You can also ask what Eden suggests.

(CI TROVIAMO DAVANTI A QUATTRO SCELTE DI AZIONE. OGNUNA DI QUESTE PORTA A SCHERMATE DIFFERENTI. L’IMMAGINE E’ SEMPRE LA STESSA)

You've decided to check this floor for a phone. >There are a lot of rooms.

It's a good thing you work here or you'd be lost. You check... The room in front of Eden's cell. The room to the left of that one. The room to the right of that one. The room to the right of Eden's cell. The room to the left of Eden's cell. The creepy room by the stairs. The first room to the right of the exit. The room just above the exit. The storage room. The room to the left of the storage room. >The room to the right of the storage room, near the stairs.

(A QUESTO PUNTO DOBBIAMO SCEGLIERE UNA STANZA DA VISITARE, QUANDO FAREMO UNO SCELTA SBAGLIATA VERREMO O RIPORTATI A SCEGLIERNE UN’ALTRA OPPURE A DIVERSE ALTRE OPZIONI PER FAR ANDARE AVANTI LA STORIA)

It's just another laboratory like the one you work in. You check the counters, and... nothing. Keep checking this floor. Head upstairs. >Get Eden's disguise instead. Ask what Eden wants to do

You've reached the >Storage Room.

Time seems to pass more slowly in this room for some reason. You can spend as much time here as you need. This seems like a good time to get a disguise for Eden. There are plenty of scientist uniforms in here as well as sundry junk from the Lost and Found. You hand Eden a uniform as well as a pair of glasses and something to tie back their hair. That should do in this dim lighting. Eden immediately starts undressing right in front of you and doesn't seem especially modest. You're still not 100% sure of Eden's sex and you can't help being curious. Looking away seems more courteous. >ONE quick peek. Eden doesn't seem to mind.

Eden doesn't seem to mind, so you guess it's all right to look as long as you don't stare. A cursory glance reveals that Eden is definitely female. Normally, you're attracted to.... >Men Women Nonbinary people Whoever looks attractive, regardless.

You're normally attracted to men. But Eden is so beautiful. Is it possible she's an exception?

(TRA QUESTE SCELTE C’E’ LA POSSIBILITA’ DI SBLOCCARE UN ACHIEVEMENT, UNA COSA CHE IO HO TROVATO DIVERTENTE E TI SPINGE A GIOCARE PIU’ VOLTE PER SCOPRIRE SE CE NE SONO ALTRI) >Okay, time to go.

Now that your business here is done, it's time to.... >Keep looking down here for a phone Check storage again for a phone Look upstairs for a phone

You've got your disguise for Eden. Now, it's time to get a phone. You check...

The room in front of Eden's cell. The room to the left of that one. The room to the right of that one. The room to the right of Eden's cell. The room to the left of Eden's cell. The creepy room by the stairs. The first room to the right of the exit. The room just above the exit. The storage room. >The room to the left of the storage room. The room to the right of the storage room, near the stairs.

It's just another laboratory like the one you work in. You check the counters, and... nothing. Keep checking this floor. >Head upstairs.

You're just outside the lab upstairs. As long as there are no guards around, that should be easy enough. But you think there might be someone in there. You'll need to be careful. >Go get it.

You cautiously peer into the lab. There's a guard in there. What do you do? Tell Eden to hide. Then, get your phone. >You and Eden both hide. Grab that phone and RUN LIKE CRAZY! Both of you just act natural and hope for the best.

(QUESTE SCELTE POTREBBERO PORTARE A FINALI DIFFERENTI, GIOCANO SULLA RAZIONALITA’ E PERSONALITA’ DEL GIOCATORE. COSA FARESTI TU SE FOSSI IN QUESTA SITUAZIONE? QUALE DI QUESTE SCELTE SEMBRA LA MENO RISCHIOSA? RIFLETTENDO SULLE SCELTE PRECENDENTI E DAI LORO RISULTATI IN QUALCHE MODO DEVI SPERARE CHE TI VADA BENE, PERCHE’ NON E’ DETTO CHE LA SCELTA PIU’ SICURA SIA SEMPRE QUELLA GIUSTA)

The guards in this place are extremely overpaid. After a while, one of them declares "All clear" and they leave the room. Once their footsteps fade well into silence, >you and Eden make a break for the exit.

You have a phone and Eden's disguise. It's time >to get out of here.

Please oh PLEASE let us make it to the exit.... A guard is running after you and Eden. You want to make a break for it, but Eden says, Wait. He's not hostile. So, both of you wait where you are and try to act natural. "What are you still doing here?" the guard asks breathlessly. "All non-security personnel are supposed to evacuate!" "We're leaving right now," you assure the guard. He goes back to patrolling the area. It looks like >you're home free.

(L’IMMAGINE E’ SEMPRE STATA LA MAPPA FINO A QUI)

Once you're safely away from the complex, Eden reconfigures your phone. She laughs when she sees where the ship is. "It isn't far from here," Eden says. "It's right through these woods." And that's where you go.

Once you've reached the supposed right place, Eden holds out her hands and focuses with all her might. After a minute, her ship appears, silvery and shining like a vaguely sphere-shaped star. Eden's face is bright with hope. "Thank you so much," she says. She really is incomparably beautiful, especially her eyes. When you look in them, you see.... A quiet strength and thoughtfulness beyond anything you've known. The enchanting purity of Eden's bright and loving nature. >The wonder of a place so very far away.

(QUESTE SCELTE SONO DESCRITTIVE, NON INFLUENZANO LA PROSECUZIONE)

It doesn't matter where Eden is from, save that you wish you could go there. Eden is still standing there and staring at her ship as if she can't believe she made it. You think you want to kiss her, just to be sure of your feelings. Except you're not completely sure if that's what Eden wants. >Respect Eden's wishes. Throw caution to the wind.

(ANCHE QUESTA SCELTA GIOCA SU COSA FARESTI TU, GIOCATORE. DOPO CIO’ CHE HAI RISCHIATO, RISCHI ANCORA O PENSI CHE SIA IL CASO DI FERMARSI? LA MIA SCELTA IN OGNI CASO HA SBLOCCATO UN NUOVO ACHIEVEMENT: VIRTUE.)

Since you're not sure Eden wants to be kissed, you choose to hold back. "Thank you again," Eden says. You tell Eden, "I would do it all again." Eden gives you a nod and smile and walks towards her ship. It looks like this is the end. >That doesn't mean it is.

Running after Eden, you shout, "Wait! Please, can I come with you?" Eden blinks. "Are you sure?" You nod. "Absolutely. I doubt there's much left for me here, and I'd love to see your world." Eden's smile is as enchanting as the full moon overhead. "I'm so glad you said that," shesays. "Follow me." >You board Eden's ship.

The flight to Eden's world seems to be over in an instant. "Welcome to Mekkari," Eden says, opening the ship's hatch. "I hope you like it here." You take a look at your new home.

Eden's homeworld is >simply amazing.

(LA SCELTA E’ ACCOMPAGNATA DALL’IMMAGINE DI GRANDI CRISTALLI AZZURRI CHE SEMBRANO NASCERE DALL’ACQUA E CHE SI STAGLIANO VERSO IL CIELO. L’AZZURRO E’ PREDOMINANTE IN TUTTA LA SCENA)

You never could have imagined such a pristine and >marvelous place.

(L’IMMAGINE QUESTA VOLTA E’ UNO SCORCIO TRA MONTAGNE CON CON DEI CRISTALLI COME GHIACCIO, DEGLI ALBERI E TRA DI ESSE SI PERCEPISCE QUELLA CHE DOVREBBE ESSERE UNA DISTESSA VERDE CHE SI PROPAGA IN LONTANANAZA)

The only thing more perfect... is the person who brought you here. But you're curious. "Eden," you ask, "what's your real name? Can you tell me now?" "It's Aevra," she replies. It suits her very well. Then, Eden... no, Aevra asks, "What's yours?" "It's Lou," you say. Aevra smiles. "I like that very much." Neither of you speaks for a while. Then, Aevra breaks the silence saying, "You hoped I was a man, didn't you." You admit, "Yeah. I did." "Does knowing that, I'm not change anything for you? You think about that for a while and give Aevra your honest answer. "Maybe a little." >"Not in the least."

(L’IMMAGINE QUI E’ QUELLA DI UN PRATO VERDE BRILLANTE, IL PUNTO DI VISTA E’ ALL’ALTEZZA DELLA FRONDA DEGLI ALBERI IN PRIMO PIANO, CE NE SONO ALTRI DUE POCO PIU’ AVANTI. QUESTA ULTIMA SCELTA E’ DEFINITIVA PER IL FINALE)

You tell Aevra, "I don't care. I love you." Aevra softly says, "I love you, too." You and Aevra are gazing intently into each other's eyes. Finally, >you kiss.

(ORA L’IMMAGINE E’ QUELLA DI UNA GIORNATA SOLEGGIATA, CON IL  MARE, E DEGLI SCOGLI SULLA SINISTRA)

Aevera's kiss is passion-sweet—like honey for your soul. Though you once called Earth your home, you know THIS is where you belong. >You Received.....

You received the ending: Love.

(QUESTO E’ UNO DEI DIVERSI FINALI CHE HO SPERIMENTATO NEL GIOCO. GIOCO CHE RICORDA LE GLI ACHIVEMENT SBLOCCATI E CHE A VOLTE TI COSTRINGE A RIPARTIRE DALLA SCELTA ‘HOPE...’. IL SESSO DI EDEN CREDO SIA CASUALE IN QUANTO ANCHE AVENDO PROVATO A SELEZIONARLO, E’ POI CAMBIATO DURANTE IL PERCORSO DELLA STORIA. NEL COMPLESSO, MI E’ PIACIUTO COME GIOCO, TI SPINGE A SPERIMENTARE LE VARIE POSSIBILITA’ E PERSONALMENTE MI COINVOLGE LA STORIA. CIO’ CHE HO TROVATO INTERESSANTE E’ STATA ANCHE QUESTA VOGLIA DI FAR RIFLETTERE IL GIOCATORE, DI FARLO TENDENZIALMENTE, AGIRE SEGUENDO L’ISTINTO DALL’INIZIO. COSA FARESTI SE TI TROVASSI DAVVERO NEI PANNI DEL PROTAGONISTA? LIBERI LA CREATURA O NO? CREDO CHE NON TUTTI RISPONDEREBBERO DI SI. DETTATI MAGARI DAL TIMORE DI COSA POTREBBE ESSERE, MA A VOLTE BISOGNA RISCHIARE NO? E’ TROPPO SEMPLICE RINUNCIARE PERCHE’ QUALCOSA FA PAURA, ANCHE PERCHE’ SI RISCHIA DI PERDERE QUALCOSA DI IMPORTANTE, CHE SIA UN’ESPERIENZA O UNA PERSONA. CREDO CHE SIA MEGLIO PROVARE ED EVENTUALMENTE RIMANERE MALE, CHE VIVERE CON IL PENSIERO DI COME SAREBBE POTUTA ANDARE. PENSO DI VEDERCI TROPPO IO, MA QUESTA E’ LA MIA RIFLESSIONE A POSTERIORI)  

[plutojones]

The Wolf and the Fox

When I first came up with the Wolf and the Fox, I knew the names sounded familiar and was unsurprised when I came upon a fable of a similar name. You may know of it: After being abused by the Wolf, the Fox begins to plan the demise of the Wolf, eventually tricking it to enter into the cellar of a nearby farmer’s house, upon which it is found and killed by said farmer.

I don’t care too much for this story. Especially for the characters that I had made, I really didn’t like the dynamic between the Wolf and the Fox. So I started thinking…

What if it was told from a different perspective? What if the Wolf and Fox were in cahoots somehow? Like all of it was planned, and the capturing of the Wolf was just one big distraction.

What if the farmer was meant to think he had won?

I know, sounds weird.

Crazy even.

And yet…intriguing…

Enjoy! ❤ Pluto

  Luna (Wolf)

Kyra (Fox)

Image Source

     Luna Tervanki was born when the full moon was high in the sky in the middle of the Qurosi Desert, dead in the heart of Torsiqa. Her mother fought like the strongest warrior in the tribe, all the way up until her passing shortly after seeing her newborn child. Her father, on the other hand, was absent the night of her birth…and for the entirety of her life. Being a half-orc, Luna was neither accepted into the tribe of her mother, nor the arms of her human relatives. However, rather than toss her out onto the streets to die, her human aunt brought her to the nearby town and left her on the steps of a building. It was one of the largest buildings in the town, and perhaps that is why she chose it. Or perhaps she simply did not know which building was the orphanage when she left Luna at the museum.

     The caretaker of the museum came across her on his way home, and not knowing what to do, brought her home with him. He named and raised Luna as his own daughter with his wife, who was unable to conceive. Not a day went by when Luna felt unloved or unwanted, though some days she would wonder where she came from, who her real parents were. Questions such as these were always met with a smile and a prayer to the gods thanking them for her arrival.

The city of Rocuzi was large and bustling with people from all across the continent. People who wanted to learn, to grow, to change. Or people just looking for a good time. All kinds and types of people lived and thrived in the town, and the energy was always high. However, while countries like Delmos may promote free education for all, the Empire of Torsiqa had no such policy. So, in a large metropolis such as Rocuzi, unless you had some gold to pay, your education was rather limited to what you were able to learn on your own. Thankfully, Luna was a fast reader.

     The caretaker, whom Luna called father, would bring her to the museum every day and let her read the books in each room as he cleaned and reorganized them. He felt bad he could not give her the proper education she deserved, so he hoped in some way this would aide her, even if she didn’t have official documentation on her status of learning. One day, when Luna was twelve, one of the curators of the museum stumbled upon Luna lying on her stomach as she read The Tales of The Hundred, a history book recounting the journey made from Evondir to Torsiqa to start life anew. Beside her was a large pile of other, larger, even more, complex novels and history books. As he approached, he could see she was deep in thought, her eyes fixed on one part of the page. He attempted to greet her, but her focus was solely on the book below her. It wasn’t until his feet ghosted the edge of the book that she finally looked up.

“What is a cornucopia?”

     After a small bit of banter and a brief explanation on his part, Luna went right back into the book. She paid him no mind and continued to read, completely immersed in the story before her. The curator, amused, went to ask the caretaker if he knew about the small half-orc girl currently lounging in the middle of the aisle for Rare and Sacred texts. After being informed that it was the man’s adopted daughter and many profuse apologies for bringing her, the curator informed him that he’d like to take her on as his apprentice. Such devotion to ancient literature, he explained, proved promising, and was a rare quality in students from the well-known schools and households around the city. The caretaker was a bit flabbergasted, but nodded his head and said he should ask Luna, as it was her choice to make after all.

     By the time Luna was fifteen she had been working as the apprentice to Lord Carter Longleaf for two and half years. It was a bit of a scandal, at first, for the old and noble Elf to take on not only a half-orc, but a common half-orc with no proper education as his pupil. Nevertheless, Luna proved to be far more capable and devoted to her studies than any of the other students he had overseen. A desire to learn, to understand, to improve guided her ambitions and led her to surpass him in his old age. By the time she was eighteen, she had proven herself to not only be physically but mentally stronger than all the other apprentices at the museum. She was recognized by the board of directors for her brilliance in solving the Riddle of Heshpotet and was publicly awarded honorary degrees in History and Literature by the dean of the local school.

Before he passed away, Lord Longleaf gave Luna a small, worn, leather-bound journal with prayers written on each page, and a tarnished holy symbol. He told her that if she wished to pursue knowledge all her life, then the goddess of knowledge, Reina, would guide her and protect her. The museum, which was also a temple to Reina, then initiated Luna into their circle, promoting her from apprentice to official caretaker, and began to train her for the journeys she would travel on to seek and recover ancient artifacts that had been lost to time. At twenty years of age, Luna became the first half-orc to join their ranks, taking on the codename: The Wolf.

     By the time Luna was twenty-one, aiding dig sites in uncovering lost cities and finding rare artifacts and fossils had become the primary focus of her life. She would travel into forbidden regions, fight off monsters and beasts, accidentally trigger traps, and always return with another large scar and artifact in hand. Everytime Luna returned with an artifact she was met with applause and praise; a hero of the museum. Of course, every great hero must have a nemesis, and it wasn’t long before The Wolf met hers.

“Sorry. It’s just business.”

The sun-kissed half-elf tugged at the rope and was swiftly whisked out of the underground cavern and through the ceiling, artifact in hand. Luna ran to try and catch the last bit of the rope, but it slid right through her fingers.

“See you next time, Wolf.”

“It’ll be sooner than you think, Fox.”

As the Fox disappeared from view, Luna slammed her foot into the dirt beneath her. She went to brush her mane of hair out of her face, only to pause at the sound of a low growl behind her. Turning slowly, she could begin to make out a form in the darkness: a four-legged beast, with a long tail and claws that gleamed in the faint light. It was a lion…or perhaps a manticore…? Oh dear.

“Cat-Big cat…uh…oh no…” Luna slowly reached for her longsword and shield, keeping her eyes trained on the beast. “Here kitty-kitty-kitty.”

“You couldn’t have worn quieter armor?”

“I’m not the one who thought sneaking into the tent of a goliath overlord, in the center of a goliath camp, was a good idea.”

“Yeah well, you didn’t have to sneak in after me.”

“Oh really? And what, let you get away?”

“Yes.”

“Ha! Not a chance. That amulet belongs in a museum, not in the hands of some grubby black market dealer.”

“Shhhh. They’re coming back.”

“I’ve enjoyed our little game Wolf, but isn’t it time you accepted you’ve lost this round?”

“Not a chance.” Luna reached for her shield and morningstar, legs shifting to a defensive stance. The Fox let out a small laugh and pulled out their daggers, twirling them in their hands.

“I’ve been looking forward to dancing toe-to-toe with you since we met in the Caves of Xanthor.”

“Xanthor? That was two years ago.”

“And on my birthday no less.”

“Wait…your birthday?” Luna relaxed her posture, standing straight up, a curious look on her face and eyebrows furrowed. “It was my birthday.”

“Really?”

“I distinctly remember having to deal with a manticore and thinking ‘this birthday sucks‘.”

The Fox’s hands lowered to her sides. “Then is today your birthday as well?”

Luna nodded her head, a slight smile creeping up her face. “..What do you think the odds are? That we share a birthday?”

“Small, probably….Well, I’d hate to kill you on your birthday, especially after the whole ‘leaving you to a manticore‘ gift from last time…Hows about we postpone this till tomorrow, hm? There’s a lovely tavern nearby and it’s happy hour.”

“They got beer?”

“They have everything.”

“…This isn’t one of your tricks right? To get me drunk and then come for the artifact while I’m incapacitated?”

“Hm…as tempting and good idea as that might be, I don’t play such low tricks.”

After a short pause, Luna put her shield and weapon away. “Lead on.”

“Thank you, Luna.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to just leave you to die.”

“Yes, but you could’ve.”

Kyra let go of Luna’s arm and staggered forward, away from the crumbling ledge behind them. “You okay?”

“I’ll live.

“I never did thank you, by the way, for the birthday drink. I know that was a few months ago, but…”

“Oh, well…what are rivals for?” Kyra paused for a moment and then started laughing to herself. “I still can’t believe you threw a whole table at that guy.”

“Ha, yeah…You know, I think that night was probably the first time I had relaxed in a long time.”

“Honestly? What do you do when you return to the museum?”

“Sleep, eat, leave again.”

“Have you never taken a vacation?”

“Of course–”

“That didn’t involve work?”

“…no.”

“Mmhm. Well, after I get this artifact, I think we both deserve a vacation.”

“I think you mean, when I get the artifact.”

“No, I meant me.”

“You sound confident.”

“I don’t need confidence to speak the truth.”

“Well, if you’re that certain of the outcome… would you care to make a wager?”

The Fox lifted an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”  

“Loser pays for the winner’s vacation. One hundred gold max.”

“Deal.”

“Any luck, Kyra?”

“No…There doesn’t seem to be a viable mechanism. Doors locked shut.”

“Damn.”

“What does the inscription say again? I don’t speak Ignos.”

“When two of equal blood rest on the altar, the gate to Dushma will open.”

“Equal blood…what does that even mean?” The Fox stood up from their kneeling position and walked away from the door. The room they were in was small with a dome-shaped ceiling that came to a point about twenty feet above the ground. In the center was a small stone altar, no larger than a desk. She leaned back on it, elbows resting on the top and keeping her supported.

“Well, given the familial theme of the riddles and puzzles thus far, I’d say a relative.”

“Just, any relative?”

“Well, the answers so far have been ‘father’, ‘mother’, ‘child’, and ‘grandparent’, so my guess is this would be ‘sibling’.”

“So, in order to open this door, we need to get two siblings.” The Fox let out a frustrated sigh. “Great. I don’t suppose you have any lying around?”

“None that I know of. You?”

“Only-child.”

“Then this is a predicament.” Luna stepped away from the door and walked over to the altar next to Kyra. Taking a deep breath, she let out a breathy growl as she placed her hands on the edge of the altar. A large clunk resounded behind her, followed by the sound of stone grazing stone. She turned around to see the door opening slowly before them.

“Did it just–”

“Yup.”

“I thought you were an only child?”

“Well, it’s possible my father wasn’t the most…righteous of individuals.”

“Huh. And we have the same birthday.”

“Strange.”

“Yup…I was born at midnight.”

“High noon.”

“Well then, guess that makes me your older sister. Therefore, I’m in charge.”

“That is not how that works.”

“Pretty sure it is.”

“Well, I’m twenty-four.”

“I’m…also twenty-four.”

“Same year too? What the heck?!”

“You don’t think there’s some prophecy somewhere about this do you?”

“…Nah.

A deep, guttural sound came from past the door. As the two whipped their heads to peer into the darkness, a large Ogre in golden armor stepped into the room, axe in hand.

“Well, as much as I’d love to continue this conversation, I think it’s time to tango.” Kyra reached for her daggers, taking a few steps away from the creature.

“Couldn’t agree more. Shall you lead or I?” Luna removed her longsword and shield from her back, preparing to charge.

“I think you should. You are the eldest after all, isn’t it your job to protect me?”

“Ha! You got me there.” Luna turned to the Ogre, weapon ready. “Hey Big-Nose! Hey! Did it hurt when you fell from heaven? Cause your face looks like sh-”

After they left Dushma, but before they went their separate ways, Luna offered Kyra the chance to join the Order of Reina, to spend the rest of her life collecting artifacts and going on adventures. She had been drunk, but she very much remembered what Kyra had confided in her that night on their birthday, when they first exchanged names. The only reason she became a mercenary was because of her father’s debt. See, he’d passed away a decade ago with no money to his name, and several crime lords pounding the door. Eventually, the need to pay the debt forced her into a life of crime, but she wanted to do something more than just be a petty thief. So she went looking for ancient artifacts, fossils, antiques, anything that would sell for a lot without branding her or throwing her in jail. With her expensive education growing up, she knew a thing or two about where to look. When Luna asked what she’d do once the debt was paid, Kyra said she’d probably just keep tomb raiding. It was all she knew at this point, and she had started to love the thrill and the chase.

“Ha…why? Why offer this to me? I’m not exactly a believer.”

“You’re good, light on your feet and a fast thinker. The Order could use someone like you, faith or not.”

“I’ve still got a large debt to pay.”

“The museum pays well, it won’t take you long.”

“Would you have offered me this if I wasn’t your sister? You’re not doing this out of some sense of duty, are you?”

“I am…but, I’ve also been thinking about it for a while. I haven’t discussed it with any of my superiors yet, but I could probably convince them.”

“…We wouldn’t have to work together on every mission, would we? I’ve started to enjoy our little competitions these past couple years.”

“I’m sure some members of the Order would enjoy placing wagers on which one of their agents would return back with the prize.”

“Now that sounds fun.”

Sometime after Kyra’s initiation ceremony, they had gotten matching facial markings, their own personal ‘tribal tattoo’. It was a symbol that no matter what, whether they were working together or against each other, they were family.

The Wolf and The Fox had quickly become a legendary duo over the next three years, their names and stories becoming tall tales in every village they traveled to. No one knew much about them, other than that wherever the Fox went, the Wolf was sure to follow. Outside of the Order, no one knew that these two worked together, or even more importantly, that they were related. This proved to be a useful facade when dealing with other mercenary groups and wealthy collectors who would stop at nothing to get their hands on an artifact. The Fox would be hired, or would offer their services, to these groups in order to learn information on where the artifact was and how they were planning to steal it. They would then offer a plan on how to stop the Wolf, to trap them so that she could not prevent them from obtaining their goals.

This was, of course, a trap in it of itself.

What if they wanted the farmer to believe he had won?

They would cover their tracks, of course, so no one suspected that the Fox had double-crossed them, or that the two were actually in cahoots. Every now and then they would have to let the farmer win, of course, or else people would get suspicious and not trust the Fox’s plans anymore. In those cases, when they couldn’t beat the thugs to the artifact, they would steal it from them while they slept.

And thus, two new heroes were born in the World of Roe. Heroes who would play a very important role when face to face with five quirky souls from another story.

Short Story #1 The Wolf and the Fox When I first came up with the Wolf and the Fox, I knew the names sounded familiar and was unsurprised when I came upon a fable of a similar name.