#more than anything Wren wants her parents to see sense | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luveline · 6 months

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Hi babe! Not sure how you feel about writing ab parents so feel free to ignore, but had an idea for kbd au if Steve’s parents tried to contact him/get into their lives and he’s all like stay away from my kids

kisses before dinner —steve has a tense relationship with his parents. mom!reader, 1.5k

The girls haven't seen their grandparents for… a while.

Steve's dad always has something to say about his life. How he's thrown everything away being a stay at home dad, or how idiotic it was to stay with you. The latter was enough for Steve to want to cut contact initially, but you convinced him not to do it on your behalf.

Steve, pretty much everyone we knew thought I was baby trapping you, you'd said.

Well, he'd said, attempting to lighten the mood, little do they know I baby trapped you.

Damn. Wanna do it again?

So it was funny. His parents didn't like you but they hardly liked him, he didn't mind —he was so fucking angry because who the fuck did they think they were, how could they look at you and not love you, you, in what world was it possible?— and he put up with their passive aggressive Christmas cards and their sparing visits, but then his mom took it too far.

He can remember it word for word. “Beth, honey,” his mom had said, her nose stuck in its permanent wrinkle, “why are you eating it like that? What do your friends at school think?”

“Mom, don't,” Steve had butt in. Beth didn't even go to school at that point.

“She's such a weird kid,” she said, shaking her head.

Some could argue it was fond or that she didn't mean anything by it, Bethie is very unique sometimes, but Beth turned her face to her dad with crestfallen eyes, as heartbroken as Steve had ever seen her before, and asked, “I'm weird?”

Steve doesn't remember the last time he spoke to his mom. A year ago at least.

He does miss her. But he doesn't really know her, never has, and he'd choose Beth over her without a thought. It would take a hundredth of a millisecond to decide.

That's why seeing her is a shock. He's going to see her, they live in the same town —you bumped into her a few weeks ago and had to give her the rundown. Everyone's okay. Yeah, we had another baby, she's doing great.

Steve had blown up at her. The girls had never seen him that angry in their lives and they haven't seen it since, and the gap is impassable.

Or so he thinks.

“Steve!” He tenses up. “Steve, honey!”

He can't decide what to do. He can't exactly run away; Bethie and Dove sit knee to knee in the shopping cart, Avery has her hand in his pocket, and Wren is strapped to his chest. Running would leave at least one girl behind, and where would he go? The frozen food aisle?

“Oh, it's grandma,” Avery says. “She looks… old.”

“She is old,” he says, turning reluctantly on the spot to watch his mother rush past a stack of cans of carrots. “She's ancient.”

“Steve, baby.” His mom stops in front of him, more flustered than he knew she could get back, struggling to maintain a sense of casualness. “How are you? Girls? It's been so long.”

Steve doesn't have an inkling of an idea of what to say. He's not mad anymore, but he knows she'll never change, and he knows that your family is a hundred times happier without worrying what grandma and grandpa think of you. “We're perfect,” he says.

“And this is baby Wren?”

Steve grimaces. “Yeah, this is Wren.”

She's only three months old but she has a good weight to her, and she's brilliantly healthy. She blinks at the woman in front of her without recognition, her dark lashes a thick hedging. She's a beautiful baby.

“She looks like you again, Steve.”

“Yeah, my girl's good at having babies, but she hasn't mastered the mixing process,” he jokes without thinking. Love for you falls off the tongue.

His mother has the sense to make herself laugh. “Where is Y/N?” she asks.

“Mom went back to get milk!” Avery says.

“Yeah? And how are you, sweetie?”

Steve clears his throat. He understands what she's trying to do, but he remembers Beth's crushed face and he can't abide this shit again. I believed you when you said I wasn't good enough, he'd said, he'd shouted, his voice hoarse with it as you’d wrapped a hand around his wrist arm, but I will not let you do it to them. It's not happening, mom, I won't let it. You don’t get to say that to her.

“Steven…”

“Mom, we have to get going.”

“I said I was sorry,” she says.

“But you weren't.”

“Steve–” She doesn't look a thing like her son beside the similar way they begin to cry, that frown, “Please, I know I'm not perfect, we don't have to pretend I've– I'll hold my tongue. I just want to see my grandkids. I've never even held her.”

Steve covers the back of Wren's head with his hand, her baby hair soft as down. The girls are being remarkably quiet, beside Dove, who's whispering, “Who is that?” to Bethie in her clumsy toddler drawl.

“That's gran'ma,” she whispers back.

Steve's mom is, at the end of the day, their grandma. And she sucks and she doesn't deserve anymore chances, and the girls are better off without her for the majority, but…

Steve screws his eyes shut. Don't make me regret this, he thinks.

“I just want to speak to them,” she says.

“Alright,” he says quietly, covering Wren's ear. “Alright, mom, fine, but this is it. This is your chance. If you ever upset or insult one of my kids again, we're done. We will never, ever speak again. You won't see them, and you won't see me. I'm serious.”

“I'm sorry,” she says again.

“Fine.” He pulls the strap off of Wren's harness and shushes her gently as she protests, lifting her out of his arms into his mom's. She doesn't have time to decide if she's ready. This is how it's going to be. “Her head.”

“I know how to hold a baby,” she says.

You come around the aisle slowly, a little wince to your step, some residual tightness in your hips as you recover postpartum, but the frown you wear slips into surprise. “Terri?”

You save Steve and take the reins, suffering a conversation on your pregnancy, birth, and Wren's first weeks of life as Steve takes a breath. His heart races, adrenaline and a sticky, icky feeling in his chest as he watches his mom. He doesn't know if he's doing the right thing. His arms ache to steal Wren back.

It ends in an invitation for dinner. Whenever you're free, whatever you want, Steve's mom offers.

He's glad to see the back of her.

You put the milk carton in the cart and touch his elbow. “You okay?” He hums. Your hand moves up to his face, cupping his cheek. “She makes you so mad, babe. Do you need a second?”

“I think I'm pissed because…” He glances down at Wren, who's happier now she's in familiar hands. “I didn't realise she was a shitty mom. I knew we didn't get along, the same with my dad, but I didn't know…” He sighs.

“It's okay,” you say, giving him a gentle squeeze before Dove demands you pick her up. You do it unthinkingly, and that's why he's mad.

“I know what a good mother looks like,” he says. “I know how hard it is. And I know she didn't even try.”

You're all sympathy, looking like you wanna wrap him up in a cuddle in the middle of the grocery store. “You deserved better. It makes me angry too.”

“Are we going to dinner?” Beth asks.

“What, with grandma?” Avery asks.

“Not right now,” Steve says.

“Good,” Dove says decidedly, wrapping her arms around your neck to hug you, squishing your cheeks together. “Cocoa?”

“Cocoa? You want hot cocoa?” you ask, pleased.

It breaks his heart thinking about himself as a kid. He knows there weren't any moments like this, no soft touches or sweet treats that weren't begged for. You don't even think about saying no.

“And marshmallows,” you croon, rubbing the little space between her shoulders. “And we'll have to get a cinnamon roll too, for your sister. How does that sound, Beth?”

Beth doesn't like hot cocoa but she loves cinnamon rolls these days, and she nods her head exuberantly. As quick as that, the girls forget their grandma's interruption, and Steve tries his best to put it out of his mind. Family is messy, and it's harder now he has to make decisions for all of them, but he has you. His support beam, his sweetheart, you put Dove on your hip and sew your arm loosely through his. Tonight he'll talk your ear off about things you know already. You'll listen without complaint, stroking his hair back from his forehead if you have a free hand. His family growing up wasn't worth calling a family half the time, just three people connected by blood and a shared house, but the family he has today takes the cake. There's no competition.

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friend-of-giants · 1 year

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Another dragon ask, then! Talon!

I knew exactly the scene I wanted to share for this one! This is from Chapter 6 of Into Ash, a small conversation between Wren and Teldryn the night before she faces off against Miraak. Also my goodness I want to rewrite that entire fic. I've improved so much since then!

A scene that tugs at the heartstrings (at least i hope it does lol)

Teldryn scratched at the scarf covering his chin. "You really have nothing to lose? Nothing to live for?"

Wren was quiet for a few moments, digging deep for any reason other than pride to keep going. Normally she would snap at him for prying into her life like this, but time was running short, and getting heated about it didn't seem like a good use of her time. "No," she said after a while of pondering. "My horse, if you can count that as a reason to live. He's in good hands with the man who raised him. Haven't seen or heard from my parents or my brother in over sixty years, and honestly I don't have any friends that I speak with anymore. The only people I cared for are… well, they're long dead, but if I die at least I can see them again. So, no. I have nothing."

"I'm sorry," he whispered, rubbing the top of her head as a small act of kindness. She wanted to flinch away from his touch, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. It was the first compassionate touch she had been given in over six months, and it felt nice, it warmed a part of her soul that had long since gone dormant. "These people you lost, who were they? If you don't want to answer, I understand."

Teldryn’s question struck like a slap to the face, though it did not hurt as much as it once would have. Time had dulled the sharpness of the pain and left only a hollow ache in its place, an ache she was trying to forget. She blinked, then fixed her eyes on an unassuming mound of snowberries at the table to gather her thoughts.

How much should she tell him, if anything? Why did he even want to know? He was only a mercenary and likely didn’t care, but something about him had changed over the last week. She felt a new sense of security with him, and had found herself speaking more openly with him since that day at Nchardak, when she had proven to him exactly who and what she was.

He had changed, and she almost felt as if she could trust him. She supposed there wasn’t much to lose by opening up a little.

"My family," Wren began after a long moment of silence. "Not the one I left behind, but…” Her attention turned from the snowberries back to Teldryn, to the light from the fire shining off his goggles. He remained quiet, the only sound around them being the crackle of the flames and the angry wind rushing against the roof.

A low, gravelly whisper broke the silence and cut her off before she could even open her mouth again. “The one you were trying to make?”

His words caught her off guard, spoken as if they were plucked straight from her own tongue. She nodded slowly, and blinked back tears that were beginning to form. “Something like that. They’re gone because of me. I’m not meant to have that kind of life, not with what I am.”

#ask games #my writing #wren indoran #teldryn sero #skyrim #tes fanfic

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dutyworn · 1 year

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@innerwar said: 8. What are some similarities between you and your muse/muses? 9. What are some differences between you and your muse/muses?

Munday Meme / ACCEPTING ↷

8. What are some similarities between you and your muse/muses? :: Wren is likely one of my least similar with myself, of my muses, but there are some?

Neither of us is comfortable with being vulnerable with other people.

We both grew up without consisent safe/emotionally supportive adult figures in our lives. It's way milder for myself; she grew up in an orphanage since infancy and homeless since age ten, I grew up with non-abusive parents until age twelve at least. But I spent my teenage years in hospitals, abusive foster care, and institutions and that affected me similarly although on a lower level, in that we've both from a young age have had to learn to meet our own emotional needs rather than rely on other people to meet them for us.

We both use humour to connect with people.

9. What are some differences between you and your muse/muses? :: So many.

We are fundamentally different as people.

Wren is extroverted, I'm extremely introverted.

Wren is very in touch with her intuition and good at following her gut. I feel like I have no intuition and I don't trust anything unless it makes logical sense.

She genuinely wants to make the world a better place, is comfortable being a leader, and is good at taking action, as well as works hard. I want the world to be a better place but I don't want to be the one to practically make that happen, I don't want to lead, I am very passive, I don't have any kind of work ethic (even if I were not disabled I would not want to work).

She willingly risks her life for others basically as her job. I am very self-preserving and put my own needs first.

She's good with people, good at reading people and socialising. I am awkward around people and can't read between the lines.

I'm very interested in learning for the sake of learning, I love absorbing theoretical information, I don't care about practicality. She is a good learner but she only sees value in learning something that has practical use.

I like to spend time in my own brain. I am always thinking & imagining things and I prefer it like that. She prefers to do something with her body and get out of her head.

She's very confident. I am not.

She has a strong sense of right & wrong and she is confident in her values and capable of acting on them. My sense of ethics is a constant logical analysis of playing the devil's advocate.

The way she interacts with the world is personal, she's a participant, she feels a part of the world. The way I exist in the world, I feel more like an outside observer who doesn't take part.

#innerwar #so glad you asked this is like my FAVOURITE QUESTION TO ANSWER WITH ANY MUSE #; outofarmour #; mun #; war has learned to fear her ❪ about. ❫

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stars-n-spice · 3 months

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Sometimes, Mistakes

Don’t be afraid, that’s the way that you feel // open your heart and you’ll see it’s real // it’s true love // right, that’s right

Word Count: 524

Warnings: N/A

Summary: Khea Nultez is a lost little bulabird with nowhere to go.

Born into a faction of Clan Wren, she grew up to be a warrior like most Mandalorians tend to do. However, when tragedy strikes and destroys everything she knows, Khea is left to try and find her way back home. Unable to find the right course to lead her back home, Khea’s life takes a turn for the worse as she makes mistake after mistake and continues to run and hide from the consequences.

With no course to steer by, no purpose, the little bulabird is just one star amongst trillions, hanging aimlessly in a galaxy far, far away….

There's a word in Mando'a that was always whispered between travelers, spoken over children by parents, or murmured in prayers by those who believed or were desperate enough. It wasn’t a proverb, not a phrase, nothing to live by, but it still carried a weight that made even the strongest stumble. It was just a simple word, made up of two parts with four syllables:

Jate'Kara.

Destiny. Or more accurately, 'good stars.' A chart by which one could steer by. A purpose.

If you didn’t have jate’kara, then what was the point? In a galaxy so vast, jate’kara was what kept someone on track, kept them within the stars, charting a course on a path that one could be proud of. Jate’kara was a star chart.

And Khea Nultez was a lost little starbird.

But was it better to be a starbird lost in the cosmos than to be one trapped in a cage? Khea wasn’t sure, but she was both, she’d be both; a wandering starbird with no purpose and a caged one with a purpose not meant for her to carry out.

A lost little starbird, who made mistake after mistake.

Khea Nultez would fight beak and wing to find jate’kara. She would do whatever it took to know that in a galaxy so infinite, so broken, so cruel, and so lonely there was something worth living for. She’d try and find that in her family, in their legacy and history, she’d try and fail to find it as a protector to her brothers, and fail again to find it in a job and a man who promised her the two very things she so desperately needed. She would try and try again to find that path, no matter how many times she fell off of it.

A lost little starbird, but a smart one.

She would learn from her mistakes, she’d learn about hurt and pain, about betrayal and guilt, about burdens that she believed could only be carried on her own two shoulders. She would come to learn that there were few you could trust and even fewer you could love. And if you were only good for one thing, what was the point in trying to be anything else? Yes, she would learn from her mistakes, but her response would only be her downfall. It was one thing to learn and another thing to grow. To heal.

But Khea Nultez was a lost little starbird with no home to return to.

In a galaxy far, far away, filled with conflict and stars, Khea Nultez was a lost little bulabird, pretending to be a jai'galaar as she searched the galaxy for jate’kara, lest she die trying.

But the story doesn’t start there, it starts back when there was a home. When things were right and the galaxy made sense. Where there was peace and security, and our little bulabird had a place to call home.

Because a purpose is only worth fighting for once you lose it.

Read it on A03 too!

💫 Next Chapter >>

Let me know if you want to be put on the tag list!

#star wars #tbb #the bad batch #tbb fic #original character #original character fic #sw oc #tbb oc #khea nultez #jate'kara

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teenageread · 2 years

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Review: Perfect

Synopsis:

Aria can't resist her forbidden ex. Hanna is on the verge of losing her BFF. Emily is freaking out over a simple kiss. And Spencer can't keep her hands off anything that belongs to her sister.

Lucky me. I know these pretty little liars better than they know themselves. But it's hard keeping all of their secrets to myself. They better do as I say... or else!

Plot:

Spencer is on the mend to repair her relationship with her family. The best way in the Hastings family is through achievements. So when her paper got nominated for the Golden Orchard, which is the high school essay equivalent to an Oscar, her parents automatically forgave her for sleeping with Melissa's boyfriend and are back on team Spencer. The only problem? It is not Spencer's essay, but Melissa's, one that she stole and put her name on because she did not have time to write it as she was traveling to the city to see Wren. Knowing the gig is up once Melissa reads the opening line, or anyone asks her for a synopsis of her paper, Spencer hopes she loses this award, because winning might make her lose her family.

Now over her English teacher, Aria has her eyes on Hanna's ex-boyfriend, Sean, who comes from an all-American family, unlike Aria. However, with her dad moving out after A revealed his affair, Aria and her mother's relationship basically broke after Aria misinterpreted The Scarlet Letter, which Ezra has them reading in class.

Hanna, thoroughly done with Sean now that he is with Aria, needs to focus less on her love life and more on her friend's life, as these A secrets she's been keeping have been dragging on her and Mona's relationship. With Mona's party being the hot spot of the month, Hanna needs to get her act together. Otherwise, Mona might ditch Hanna for the fat crazy loser Hanna sees herself as.

With Emily starting to see Maya again, but in secret, the pressure from her parents, swimming, and Maya becomes too much. Then, with Emily barely holding on after Toby's death, new threats from A reveal Emily's sexual orientation to a town that could be considered deep south with the way they act.

With Toby dead, the girls thought they were rid of A, but when A makes a comeback into their lives, they know their troubles with A are far from over, as A is ready to dig deep to make the four of them pay.

Thoughts:

The plot of these novels is pretty basic however, Sarah Shepard keeps it interesting with all these twists and turns. The plot is basic in that each girl has a problem, mainly a love life. Still, this time Shepard switches it up and gives us some friend and family drama, all leading up to an event in the story that the girls are preparing for; in this case, it was Mona's birthday party. Shepard writes a fast-moving plot, which does make this book fly, and act like a guilty pleasure that you can really sink your teeth into. Literally, anything Shepard writes makes sense in a way, making nothing "too crazy" for these characters. There are still no fantastic characters, but moving up to be likable is Sean, who does not make sense with Hanna or Aria, but being with them puts him in the story. Lucas, introduced to being a good friend but wants more with Hanna, also might be a good character. Still, time will tell for him, but currently, he seems to be a decent male figure in Hanna's life. Unlike the previous novels, A was not a massive threat in the story. Still, there was some discovery in Ali's past, majorly from Spencer, who has her own issues, and a little bit from Aria. Basically, the book is fluff, and the girls' current lives are nothing serious. Still, the last few characters set up the next installment well with large twists and information about Ali's past and Spencer's issues. With this, barely into the main plot of the series (Who, if someone did, kill Ali, and who is A), the plot line is thickening, as the girls find themselves way over their heads, but go onward, pretending that life is normal.

A Suspects:

The concept of the novel is our four girls trying to find out who A is, thus I thought it would be fun to keep a suspect list to see how many people Shepard writes for the girls to at one point suspect and by whom. So here is the list for book #3:

No one!

Read more reviews: Goodreads

Buy the book: Amazon

#Perfect #Pretty Little Liars #Sara Shepard #book review

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elionwriter · 3 years

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MY FAV STAR WARS COUPLE DYNAMICS:

(for the sake of this post let's all just pretend no one dies, ok?)

Anakin - Padme: their relationship started with pure drama and really bad, corny pick up lines and it just goes on that way. Even when they are happily exiled on Naboo with their children and everyone knows about them, whenever they talk about their love or tell the story to Luke and Leia it's always with the tones of a 'larger than life situation'. Obviously Anakin is the drama queen who really pushes it (and is still salty he had to give up his title as Jedi Master) but Padme fell for him when he did the whole whiny speech about sand and married him, she secretly supports this s***t! 😝

Han - Leia: bickering is their love language. Screaming to impose supremacy is their flirting. The thing is, they never bicker for serious stuff, because they actually agree on what matters and get along as a couple, it's the principle of things! Sometimes a friend of Ben overhears them and goes 😱 "I'm really sorry for intruding on this, pal. Will your parents be alright?" And Ben with the calmest expression will answer "They literally do this all the time". It's the silence that's worriesome. When Leia is just too tired to keep fighting after hours of doing so with politicians, when Han doesn't bother to stay to face the argument and just hops on the Falcon again, THAT'S when they realise they are falling out. So they push duty and lust for adventure aside to go back spending quality time together and patching things up. Sure enough, the bickering starts again and Ben is like "😌 aaah everything is fine again".

Din - Luke: they are the picture perfect couple. They literally never argue, at best they poke eachother when one of the two does something the other doesn't entirely agree on. They have each other's back in any instance, support every choice and are there for backup when others want a fight or have something to say either on Din's leadership or Luke's approach to the Jedi code and teachings. It took them forever to actually get together because they acted like shy teenagers on their first crush and Leia, Han and Cara had to practically push them into each other's arms, but once they got there they were solid a couple as a rock. Others look at them and think they are either disgustingly mushy or still in a 'honeymoon face', because NO ONE has such a stress-free marriage. Din and Luke truly don't get what the fuss and all the drama's about. So even though they end up practically parenting the space version of the kids from 'Cheaper by the dozen' they act like parental figures to their friends as well. Life as Manda'lor and the Reviver of the Jedi order can be hell, but together they are just balanced like that and can face everything! They even create a new co-op fighting style for Jedi/Mandalorians that becomes the terror and amazement of the Galaxy for centuries to come!😌😏💪

Kannan - Hera: very similar to Dinluke except they do at times have some small moments of tension because Hera is a fighter to the core and Kannan can't help but wonder if the battle will ever truly end. But his queen's passion and resolve is so bright and steeled that he can't help but fall in love a little more every time and follow, knowing it's the right thing to do. They have an example to set for their son, after all. Kannan will absolutely love Jacen and will introduce Ezra to his son (once Sabine and Ashoka bring him back) as his older brother. Much like when he trained Ezra or faced Sabine, Kannan will sometimes doubt himself and wonder if he's acting like a good parent to Jacen. Hera will smile and reassure him, describing to him the bright and happy smile on their son's face or how Jecen's nose scrunches and his long, greenish ears wiggle in delight whenever Kannan plays with him or cuddles him. As Hera says so, Kannan holds her and feels like he can actually see it too.

Sabine - Ezra: After Ezra is brought back to his family from wherever or whatever happened to him after facing Thrawn, both of them will just indulge in sudden hugs or touches to make sure the other is actually there. Of course, they first think of their bond as a solid friendship and camaraderie, because that's what it was when they left off. The extra touching is just the response to being apart for so long and being worried for each other. But then Sabine notices that Ezra actually looks really good with long hair and the scruffy beard he grew out. She catches herself thinking of how warm and safe if feels in his arms and mentally kicks herself because she's a Mandalorian, all she should need is a loaded blaster to feel safe. Ezra, on the other hand, starts playing with Sabine's hair when complimenting her new dye and suddenly finds himself cupping her face like it's the most natural thing in the world. Long story short, they fall for eachother hard and become the prototype of the couple "my boyfriend/girlfriend is my best friend". When they are comfortable with their new status, Ezra goes back flirting dorkishly with her like he did all those years back when they first met and Sabine will tease him by shooting his advances down.

Ashoka - Bo Katan: joke's on Bo-katan for cringing back in the day at her sister's relationship with a Jedi. She thought destiny or the force or whatever was really messing with her when she realized that her rival and pupil, Din Djarin, the new leader of Mandalorians was also falling helplessly in love with a Jedi (Obi-Wan's student nonetheless). When she hears Sabine Wren and her Jedi boy also got together she stops questioning it. The thing is that she herself has been inexplicably, undeniably charmed and hooked to a Jedi for years now. The very same Jedi she had teased didn't have enough booty, what felt like a lifetime prior. But she's Bo-Katan, she can be in angry denial about anything. Ashoka, on the other hand, has seen and has been conditioned too much on what attachment does to a Jedi, even if she doesn't consider herself one anymore. So, even if the chemistry between them and the long lingering stares are real, their love is always kept a quiet, unspoken thing. Whenever they call eachother "my old friend" they know they actually mean more, but leave it at that. Everyone around them can't help wondering 'are they a thing or...?!' but they never feed the theories and gossip. They know what they are and mean for each other when they are alone in the same room, talking about the past or what must be done in the future and Ashoka's mere presence is enough to cool down the ever-present burning rage inside of Bo. Meanwhile, the other can't help but admire how single minded and devoted to her people and culture the Mandalorian princess is, how she never gave up on them, despite everything. They smile softly at each other, then one of them breaks the spell by leaving. They go back to their own business and life untill destiny or the force or whatever brings them back into eachother's orbit.

Revan - Carth: normally they act very much like Leia and Han with the bickering and teasing bit but then Revan has one of her memories returning or is haunted by how she basically condemned her lifelong best friend Malak to a terrible death and Carth instantly does a 180° shift becoming the most caring, comforting and tender partner. She'll hide into his chest until the crisis in over. Sometimes it can go on for days and Revan is oh, so grateful of how patient and good Carth is to her. Then, at times, Carth is the one burying his head in her chest and she's the one doing the tender, hair strokes. Carth needs a lot of reassuring and might get upset and fret over even what appears to be a trivial thing. He's trying to heal and get better but the long, long years of solitude, hurt and paranoia are hard to iron down. Expecially when Carth seems to have an instinct that puts a Jedi to shame, foreseeing a crisis neither she nor Bastila had picked up. But he is making an effort to improve and she's proud of him, even as he tries very clumsily to patch things up with his son Dustil. She doesn't really step in that matter more than she has to, since Dustil is clearly not happy nor comfortable with the idea of them being together yet. Carth will sometimes open his heart to her and say something deeply meaningful on how he wants her to stay ( when she looks particularly haunted and about to leave without a work of warning) and be happy but does so with such awkward word choices that Revan just cannot refrain from laughing at his face and making puns. It's at this point that the back and forth teasing resumes. There is no denying they are still deeply wounded individuals and they are at their best when their friends are there to lighten the mood and show love to the both of them. Because they could easily go down the path of drama like Anakin and Padme but they choose the Ebon Hawk crew shenanigans instead.

Obi Wan - Satine: their love is stored in the memory of that glorious time they spent together in their youth. A moment in which no responsibility or sense of honor could keep them from giving in to that feeling of want and need for each other. It's a love that never truly went away, never left space for anyone else, but it never fully grew and bloomed either. So years down the line, that's what it is for Obi-Wan, a pleasant memory. He would never change how things went afterwards, but he wouldn't give up those memories and feelings for anything in the world. Satine feels the same, mostly. There are nights that she falls asleep wondering what could have been if only she had talked up at the decisive moment and dreams of a life spent together with Obi-Wan. But when she wakes up, she sobers up and goes back to her things. It's when she looks at her Korkie smile and notices how resembling to his secret father he is that she is truly at peace. She managed to keep a peace of Obi-Wan in her life.

Cal - Merrin: I have no idea for this one, but just stop and consider the possible 'nightsisters babies' though! Wouldn't they be the cutest things ever?! 😀

Sorry Cara Dune, you just haven't met the woman of your life yet. 😔

Also, I kinda like Zeb and Callus too but I don't really ship them enough to add them here, you know? Anyway I'm sure they make a lovely couple.

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justwaitingforthesnow · 3 years

Text

a short fic because i reread iwwv: leah calls james on new year’s eve, 1999 and they talk about oliver

spoilers if you haven’t read the book- please scroll past! this is also my first time posting fanfic so god knows it might be terrible

Outside they’d already started with the fireworks. Premature party-goers staggered through iridescent New York in black satin heels and slip dresses, revelling in a hundred summers they’d only captured through their parent’s collage polaroids. They grouped under streetlights to light cigarettes, clutching cheap vodka and novelty memorabilia. The window was closed, their music uncaring for his thin glass barrier. If anyone looked up from the street below, they’d see him regardless; Scrooge glaring out from behind the curtain with his mouth set against the merried thousands who would walk past oblivious that night.

So much of his life had James Farrow lived more easily upon other’s oblivious nature. Not that he noticed everything himself- the more he dredged those memories from Decheller, the more he realised exactly how much he’d overlooked or misinterpreted- but he couldn’t deny it. Details most would miss he’d obsess over the same way as he would a fragment of a phrase, analysing to the point of scrutiny. Realistically he knew it never led anywhere. He’d spent so much time learning how to formulate arguments in favour of one interpretation or the other, he could string out a conclusion either way the question was asked. It didn’t matter if he was the one asking it, over and over again.

Take, for example, the phone ringing. Likely it was Pip. Likely she would ask if they’d started celebrating, get irritated on his behalf when he told her no, Alex and Colin had cancelled last minute. Likely she would call ten minutes after he hung up, rightfully irritated this time, and say something like “I’d hoped to start this new year without you lying to me” or worse, “I just want to go into the next millennium knowing you’re all right.” He’d already fully fleshed the future possibilities in which he lost or won his case against her best wishes by the time his clumsy fingers had accepted the call.

Unlikely it was a stranger’s number. Unlikely it was a voice he couldn’t begin to recognise, let alone remember.

The phone trembled in front of him, in his hands, inches from his face.

“Hey,” the girl said again. Dulled music thudded in the background, the thumping of drums and a tinny electric shriek of a guitar riff. “Can you hear me okay? Did you speak?”

“Yeah,” James said. His voice slid smoothly from between gritted teeth; the word was calm and unbetraying of anything other than itself. “Who is this, please?”

He damned well knew, of course he did. It’d taken a minute, but somehow he still grounded himself in her reply. “It’s Leah,” she said. “You know? Oliver’s sister. We met at Thanksgiving a few years ago.”

Oliver’s sister. She said it as casually as he spoke; the words meant everything outside themselves. As if Oliver was a tangible being still, within his reach, capable of connections beyond their walled friendship- Oliver, who had sat and ate grilled cheese and watched cartoons with his sisters and had water fights in their back garden and had a life elsewhere, before him.

“Right,” he said, and she must’ve sensed the shift he’d tried to hide. She damned well knew, she must have done. Perhaps she always had.

“He never did it, did he?” Her desperation was drowned by the sound of a hand dryer, a chain flushing. The music hadn’t stopped, though he hadn't been so hyper aware of it previously. “You know what happened. Tell me it wasn’t him.”

She hiccupped a little drunkenly- what the hell did she look like, anyway. In his mind he’d painted her as Wren; hunched into herself perched on the edge of a sink, washed out in blue strip lighting, mascara running down her cheeks stark contrast against pale hair. No, that was wrong. She’d had Oliver’s hair- caramel brown. Oliver’s eyes, too. “Tell me,” she said again. “I know it wasn’t him. I want to start this knowing it wasn’t. I can’t go into 2000 thinking it was.”

His own voice was a stubborn, faltering creature. It froze in headlights and under spotlights and whispered, “No, he’d never do something so monstrous.”

Leah laughed. He squirmed at it- giddy and childlike. How many years between them? Six? Eight? “I knew it,” she said simply. “I knew it. I tried to tell them but they sent me home, you know? I haven’t visited since.”

“I should next week,” James said. It felt like admitting he hadn’t, not for too long. Felt like admitting every other treacherous truth as well, in some fickle pandora’s box of hope. There; hopefully he would visit. Hopefully it would be all right. Hopefully. He wouldn’t have to think of it until next week. Likely he wouldn’t until after that, and then he’d let it swallow him for days. What a way to start a year.

Then there was his sister, still laughing on the phone. What a way to finish one.

“I hate you,” the last tangible link to an Oliver before said. “I hate what he’s done, but it wasn’t his fault. He said he wouldn’t leave without me, and he got ripped away.”

23:46.

She hung up.

He didn’t have the energy to say it, but he thought it twice as hard. He agreed with her, down to every last word.

So much he still hadn’t said, so desperate to confess.

He’d carry it through while she could let it go. That brought some twisted sense of comfort; it felt fitting, although not right. Neither of them could fix it. What difference did it make, that she’d guessed? She knew nothing. James doubted most days if even he knew half of it.

Oliver, in no position to say anything, knew more. If he had to carry the bag, Oliver had taken twice his load.

Perhaps there would be music in his cell that night. Perhaps he would visit after all.

Perhaps he would call Pip, and let a more familiar argument play out.

#if we were villians #iwwv #james farrow

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theloneliestshipper · 3 years

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What about a Soulmate or red string of fate AU for Leia and Boba?

I actually had multiple requests for this one. I came up with a premise years ago for this and yet writing it out only made me realize how hard it would be to get these two stubborn, independent people to buy into it. I dragged them as far as I could, I swear.

AO3 Link

“It’s Mandalorian.” Her father’s voice was hushed. He sounded worried. “I recognize the lettering.”

“Could we have it translated?”

Leia rubbed her leg just above her knee as she listened to her parents whispering outside her door. The darker patch of skin had always been there. Her mother said she always had. It was only after her tenth birthday that the color began to deepen and the foreign letters began to take shape.

“Yes, but should we?” Her father continued. “This whole business of soulmates, it’s a lot of pressure. Maybe it’s best if she doesn’t know.”

Her mother sounded uncertain. “There’s a lot she doesn’t know, Bail. What if this is one thing too many?”

---

“You have a soulmark?” Sabine Wren’s eyes went wide.

“You don’t think it’s crazy?”

“My parents have them...so, no. My dad’s says, “I’m looking” and my mom’s says, “look at this beautiful sight!” My dad was painting a picture of a lake when they met, and he wanted her to look at the view and she wanted to look at him.” Sabine shrugged. “And those were the first words they said to one another. My mom says she was just grateful that hers was in Mando’a.”

Leia fidgeted, keeping an eye out for anyone passing in the hall of the rebel base. “Mine is in Mando’a too.”

“It is? That means it’s your soulmate’s first language!”

“I looked it up, but the translation wasn’t exact. It’s just one word. Slana’pir.”

“Huh.” Sabine considered that for a few seconds. “That can mean ‘get lost’ or ‘go away’ depending on the context. It’s kind of a funny thing for someone to say as their first words to you. The first letter, does it angle at the bottom? This way?” She illustrated with her hand.

Leia had to think about it. “No. The other way.”

“That’s interesting. It means they’re probably Concordian, from Concordia or Concord Dawn.” She grinned. “A hick Mandalorian, you know? In some places they use slana’pir literally, from a Concordian it’s more likely to be a threat.”

“Great,” Leia replied dryly. “I’ll just keep my eyes peeled for a Mandalorian who instantly threatens me. Are your parents...it’s real for them?”

“Oh yeah. They’re really happy together. My dad always says he doesn’t mind dying at the same time as my mom, because he can’t imagine living without her.”

“Wait. You die if your soulmate does?”

“That’s part of the deal. Once you meet and exchange words, you literally can’t live without one another.”

“But what if it’s someone you pass on the street and never speak to?”

“Then I guess you do what you want like everyone else.”

---

Leia couldn’t understand the grunts of the Gamorrean guards who dragged her through the door. They tossed her in the direction of the bed and left, locking the door behind them. The room was simple, the only furniture was a bed.

Jabba had made the terms of her captivity clear with the scraps of metal and cloth she was forced to wear. She was a trophy for the Hutt to display. So why lock her in here?

She paced for a while. When she got tired of pacing she sat on the bed, her eyes fixed on the door. That quickly became boring and so she laid down, curled up on her side. At some point she fell asleep.

When she woke up there were voices outside the door. Bib Fortuna, the Twi’lek majordomo, and a second voice.

Boba Fett.

Leia bolted upright. Of course. Jabba was passing her on as a bonus to his pet hunter. Her hands curled into fists as the door opened and the Mandalorian bounty hunter strode in.

“Get out.”

She resisted the urge to cover her soulmark with her hand. “Congratulations,” she snarled instead. “You can read.”

He didn’t respond. He stood frozen in front of the door until it finally occurred to Leia that something had happened. “The fuck,” he whispered, the words barely audible through his helmet. Suddenly he was moving towards her, and before she could scramble away he was on his knees at her feet, his hand on her leg. His gloved fingers scrubbed across her soulmark as if he was trying to rub it off.

“Ow!” She pulled her leg up under her, shoving him away. “Get off me!”

He straightened, started to walk away and then turned back. And then away again, as if he had lost all sense of direction. “It can’t be,” he said to no one.

“Are you on spice?”

He laughed, a harsh, unexpected sound that caused a burst of static in his helmet. “I wish this were a spice dream, but neither of us is going to get that lucky.” He lifted off his helmet, setting it on a table before he removed his jetpack. He was in his thirties, with dark curly hair and tan skin. A handsome man, in spite of his grim expression. He looked as if he wanted to be doing anything other than what he was doing.

He stripped off his bracers and then worked open the flak vest his chest plates attached to. When he started opening the neck of his flight suit Leia realized that he was undressing.

“Let’s get one thing clear,” she said. “Lay a hand on me and one of us is going to die.”

“I’m not going to touch you.” He said it scornfully, as if the very idea was offensive. “I have to show you something.”

“Why?”

His anger faded a little. “I think you have a right to know.” He pulled his arms out of the sleeves of his flight suit and let the top half hang over his belt. He wore a white sleeveless undershirt beneath it, which he pulled over his head in one smooth motion. His back was all smooth skin and muscle, except for a few scattered scars and the line of aurebesh letters that ran vertically down along his spine.

Congratulations. You can read.

“Oh my gods.” Leia could scarcely breathe. “You...you didn’t read it. It was just...the first words you said.”

“Seems impossible that we haven’t spoken before. But even on Bespin we never talked. Not directly.”

“It’s you,” Leia said, still trying to process it. “You’re the hick Mandalorian. From...Concorda...or something.”

He blinked at her. “Concord Dawn. And I’m not. But my dad was.” He waited a moment, as if he was trying to decide something. “When did they show up for you? The actual words, I mean.”

“I was ten, I think.”

“Me too.” A smile appeared, fleeting but sincere. “My dad said they were funny. Like a joke.” He shook his head. “It’s a fucking joke, all right.”

“Tell me about it.” Leia rubbed her temple. “My soulmate is a bounty hunter.”

“And mine is in love with someone else.” Fett winced as if something had just occurred to him. “I’ve got to get you out of here.”

“What? Why?”

“Because if I don’t you’ll get yourself killed trying to rescue Solo. You know what happens now, right? Now that we’ve met? If you die, I die.”

“You could help me. Help me get Han out and-”

“And what? You’ll marry him, move to the outer rim and live a long, peaceful life?” His tone was rich with skepticism.

“Maybe I will,” she lied, trying not to think about the rebel forces gathering on Yavin IV.

He looked at her for a moment in silence and then dropped his gaze. “I’ll leave. Whatever plans you have, I’m not part of them. We’ll both just try to...stay alive.” His shoulders rose and fell in one sharp breath. “Since we probably won’t see each other again, is there anything you want to know?”

Leia plucked at the blanket on the bed. “I guess you’ve heard some of the same things I have.”

The bounty hunter shrugged. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious.”

“I didn’t feel anything when you…” she gestured at her leg.

“Might have been blocked by the gloves.”

“Yeah. That makes sense, I guess.” It might be her only chance to test it. “If you want to try it again…”

He worked his glove off his right hand and approached her cautiously. His hand spread over her thigh, covering his words completely. Leia felt nothing. She gingerly placed her hand on his naked back, over her own words.

And then she felt everything.

It was...a connection. She could think of no other word to describe it. This person belonged to her. His life, his body, his mind and his soul. He fit her like home. She looked up into his eyes, eyes that reflected the same intense longing. “Oh no,” she breathed, overwhelmed and shaking.

“Yeah,” Fett gasped as he leaned in and kissed her and it was perfect the way no kiss between two strangers should be. Leia’s hand went to his chest and then up around his neck as the kiss deepened and then she was wrapped around him and they were both nearly horizontal on the bed.

And then suddenly he was pushing away, detangling himself from the embrace. He turned his back to her and clutched at his head as if he had a stabbing headache. “No,” he growled. “No fucking way.”

Leia couldn’t take her eyes off the words on his back. Her words. She wanted to touch him again. To hold him and comfort him. But clearly that wasn’t what he wanted. She swallowed the lump that was suddenly in her throat. “So I guess that’s real.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, still facing away. “No matter what some stupid magic tattoo says, that was out of line.”

“It wasn’t…” She didn’t know how to finish that. Was it better or worse if it truly wasn’t what he wanted? For that matter, how could she be sure that it was what she wanted? “No apology necessary,” she said finally.

“That’s gracious of you.” He reached for his undershirt and pulled it back on. “I think I have all the information I need.”

“Yes,” Leia agreed. “So what now?”

“Now I ask you for a favor.” He turned to face her and he put his arms through the sleeves of his flightsuit. “Be careful. Play along with Jabba and don’t do anything that might get you tossed in the rancor pit.”

She inhaled slowly, weighing her options. “I’ll try if you do one thing for me.”

“What?”

“Don’t leave.”

His hands stilled for a second, and then he looked away. “It’s going to be hell,” he said, almost casually. “Not knowing where you are or what you’re doing. Fine. I won’t leave. I’ll help you if I can, but don’t ask me to lift a finger for Solo.”

“Fine.”

---

Things had taken a turn. Leia could feel it in her bones as Jabba’s minions raced for the deck of the sail barge. Fett clearly knew it too.

Artoo bumped against her leg with a quiet beep, and Leia took advantage of the Hutt’s distraction. She crouched down beside the small droid and held the length of chain between her hands. One zap and it broke.

But when she straightened, the bounty hunter was gone.

She heard Jabba’s cry of outrage as she bolted for the deck, but she ignored it. All of his guards were busy fighting. She caught a quick glimpse of her friends on the skiff and then the bounty hunter at the rail. The engines on his jetpack were lit.

Leia seized a pike that had fallen to the deck in the mad rush and swung it as hard as she could. Her aim was too good. Not only did she smash it into his jetpack but the force of the blow sent him over the railing.

Into the sarlacc pit.

She raced to the railing. He’d managed to slow his fall by grasping at the side of the barge, but without a good handhold in reach he was slipping down the side. She reached down with the pike and he grabbed it. A blaster shot ricocheted off the barge inches from his head. Artoo appeared on the deck and whistled sharply. Leia looked over at the droid. “What do you mean ‘it’s going to blow?’”

She jumped barely a second before the explosion. She collided with Fett on the way down and they hit the sand, rolling towards the mouth of the pit until suddenly they jerked to a stop. Fett had one arm wrapped around her and when she looked up she saw his other arm stretched over his head, bent at an angle that screamed ‘broken’ but anchored by his fibercord grappling hook to the skiff above them.

“Leia!” She heard Han shout, but she was too busy trying to hold onto Fett and keep herself from sliding further into the pit.

“Blaster,” Fett rasped. “Sarlacc…”

A tentacle slapped at her ankle and she pulled her leg up as high as she could. She managed to pull the bounty hunter’s blaster pistol from it’s holster and fired at the beast, causing the ground to shudder beneath them.

Chewie appeared over the railing of the skiff and then suddenly the skiff lurched and began to move. Fett let out a muffled cry of pain as it dragged them to safety.

---

“Can you see this?” Leia waved a hand in front of his face and Han squinted.

“I can see the motion.”

“That’s a good sign. Try to get some sleep, okay?” She bent down to kiss his forehead before leaving the Millennium Falcon's crew quarters. Fett was sitting up on the cot, his back against the wall. His arm had been set and placed in a sling and at the insistence of everyone else, his other hand was cuffed to the cot. His helmet sat beside him, and his eyes were half-shut. Lando had given him a pretty big dose of painkillers.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’ve felt worse.” His mouth curved into a bitter smile. “You fucked up.”

Leia folded her arms over her chest. “I still saved your life, Fett.”

He shook his head as if the motion took effort. “The sarlacc keeps its victims alive. You could have lived your whole life while I was being digested.”

“I don’t think I could have.” Leia sat down beside him on the cot. “I don’t want you to suffer. That’s not the magic tattoo, that’s who I am.” She brushed a dark curl off his forehead and laid her palm on his cheek. The sense of connection and wholeness she felt at Jabba’s was just as strong now. He leaned into the touch and Leia leaned over and gave him a quick kiss, which led to a longer kiss. And then an even longer one.

“What are we doing?” Fett demanded as soon as they broke apart.

“Nothing. You’re drugged to the gills and Chewie would love to have an excuse to throw you out the airlock.” She sighed and leaned back against the wall beside him. “I don’t like being told what to do. Even by fate.”

“My dad used to say ‘fate is whatever you make of your life.’”

He’d spoken of his father before, and always in the past tense. “When did he die?”

“Years ago. When I was still a child.”

“What about your mother?”

“Never had one.”

“I’m sorry. I can tell by the way you talk about your dad that you were close.” Leia turned her head towards him. “I’m an orphan too, you know. Maybe if we’d met at a different time or in a different place…”

Fett nodded and gave her a quick, tired smile. “If fate is real, maybe it’ll bring us back together when we have an actual shot at it.”

She laughed softly. “I like that idea, actually. Put it to the test.”

He lifted his hand as far as the cuff would allow. “I’d shake on it, but…”

“Nice try.” Leia sat up and gave him one last kiss. “For fate.”

#boba fett/princess leia #random au #my fic #rebelbounty #prompt fic #soulmate au #boba/leia #Anonymous

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spacedadspod · 3 years

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Thinking about Mando’ade family structures.... Yes we see Sabine Wren (Star Wars Rebels) in a nuclear family kind of situation, but even there, her mom is the matriarch and her dad is more the dreamer.

Satine and Bo-Katan are estranged (Clone Wars), presumably for political reasons, but do we know anything else about their parents/biological family? Clan and House allegiances, as well as political/ideological connections seem more important than the core nuclear family bonds; with Sabine being disowned for not being in line with the Clan’s/House’s line....

The clones also have strong familial affiliations, with ties within units being stronger than with members outside the units, although there is still generally a strong sense of loyalty to each other in general.

Post purge, we can see the clan structure survives, though it seems to have more of a family of choice, or even family by necessity vibe. Still oriented around political/ideological/cultural beliefs. The Mandalorian code that dictates Mando’ade protect each other has become vital. Bo-Katan works with Axe Wolves and Koska Reeves, who clearly respect her as the leader of their “clan”, though they don’t share a name. Din’s Covert, “The Tribe”, is also organised around the Armourer, who is their leader, and there are several clans represented in that covert; which might fall under what was formerly a house. The covert also seems to be raising the foundlings collectively, as we see a number of helmeted kids running through the tunnels early in S1.

Beyond that... We see a lot of mentor-mentee relationships and a lot of parents-by-choice (Jaster and Jango, Jango and Boba, Din and Grogu). Throughout the history of Mandalore foundlings play an important role; there isn’t much difference in how Jaster treats Jango and how Jango treats Boba. Jango wants to raise Boba, his literal biological clone, the way that Jaster raised him. Boba see Din’s pursuit of Gideon and Grogu as that of a father searching for his son. Biology doesn’t play a role in how the Mandalorians view parenthood: it’s about choosing duty and raising a child in the culture and tradition.

All this to say, Mandalorians probably don’t place as much value on romantic relationships and marriage as western society does; the nuclear family is not the core of their child-raising practices. In contrast, there is a strong expectation of loyalty and upholding one’s duty.

There’s a lot of space for what we would conceptualise as ace, aro and poly Mandalorians: their ability to fight, raise children, and be honorable is not compromised by their lack of participation in nuclear and biological families. And I just think that’s neat.

#mandalorians: nothing heteronormative about them #mando'ade #star wars meta #the mandalorian s2 spoilers #star wars

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inactive-seathesilverlinings · 3 years

Text

Parenting Can be HARD

Based off of a combination of TikTok’s I saw yesterday morning and I could only imagine Scott and Wren, I’m hoping you’ll see why 😂

2093

***

Scott had helped to raise two younger brothers (four really but don’t tell John and Virgil he said that) and six nieces and nephews giving him a total of ten different areas of experience, before his first child was born. Credit to Arthur, the boy was an easy going breeze of a human being, he could be headstrong at times but he saw reason quickly. Nothing. Not a damn thing could have prepared him for his second born.

Continue on AO3 or

A tiny tour de force with the looks of her mother, the mouth and energy of her youngest uncle, and the combined hot headedness of both of her parents. Scott was doomed right from the off.

It seemed from the moment she learned what arguing was she knew just how to push every single button Scott had. Wren was a master of the answer back, of flat out denial, and unafraid to stare down any parental figure in her life. But she seemed to butt heads with her father the most.

Wren had been eight, and looking back on it now Scott couldn’t even remember what the initial argument had been about, only that he had told her to go to her room.

She folded her little arms across her chest and glared up at him, fire burning at titanium melting temperatures behind those green eyes.

“No!”

“Go to your room, now!” So maybe he raised his voice a little more than necessary, it had been a very long day and he wasn’t getting any younger.

“No! I don’t want to!” Wren shouted back.

Everyone else had swiftly cleared the space the moment the argument had started so the two had been left alone in the lounge.

“Go to your room. Give us both space to calm down and then we can talk about it again.” Scott lowered his voice in an attempt to get her to listen to him.

“No!” She repeated her answer from before.

“Fine!” Sensing he was getting nowhere but he needed space Scott turned on his heel and opened the outside door. “Then you can stay in here and I’m going to stand outside until we’ve both calmed down.” He stepped outside and shut the door behind him.

He tried not to turn around and look at her in the hopes that she would sit down and calm down like he wanted but after about thirty seconds of having his back to the door he heard a thump which meant he had to turn around.

Wren was staring right at him, her head against the glass, not breaking eye contact. Scott turned away again and ignored her. And the next sound Scott heard was the lock being turned on the door.

Scott whirled around, Wren was still staring right at him, her hand on the lock. He approached the door and tried it. It didn’t budge. She raised her eyebrows at him.

“Wren, sweetheart, open the door.”

She didn’t say anything and continued to stare.

Scott frowned and turned away again, taking a deep breath. He couldn’t show that he was annoyed because then she definitely wouldn’t open the door for him. His phone and communicator were both inside so he had no way of contacting anyone to let them know about his situation. If he could it would have had to be Virgil; they didn’t like to get involved when each other was dealing with their own kids but Virgil at least wouldn’t laugh at him. Or if he did, he’d hide it well enough that Wren wouldn’t know he’d found it funny.

“Wren.” He tried again, making eye contact through the glass. “Open the door.”

Silence.

Why was his daughter just as stubborn as him? That being said, if he’d pulled a stunt like this as a kid, he wouldn’t have been able to do it with this much conviction and confidence.

While he didn’t want her to think she had won, he needed to figure out another way back inside. The only one close enough was the balcony.

Fine.

Again, the stubbornness came from him, so he made his way to underneath the balcony. He pulled one of the tables over with him, climbed up onto it, and pulled himself up. He slung his legs over the railing and landed expertly on his feet. Once he was inside Scott took a moment to compose himself before making his way back down to the lounge.

Wren was still glaring, he knew she’d watched him climb up and get back inside so he’d expected her to be gone and have run to Kayo or Alan by now, but no. In true Kyrano and Tracy style she was seeing this through.

Scott lowered himself to her level, he took a deep breath before speaking and managed to keep his voice level.

“Honey, what were you doing?”

She smiled sweetly at him but years of being with Kayo told him that there was more than sweetness behind that look.

“Oh, Daddy, I thought we were playing hide and seek…”

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #thunderfam #Scott Tracy #scayo babies #wren tracy #parenting #dad Scott

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toloveawarlord · 3 years

Text

Ch. 1

Pairing: Wren Blackwell x Jonah Clemence

Tagging: @plumpblueberry @starry-starry-night24 @youreawizardharr (please let me know if you want to be tagged!)

A/N: Day 4 of the 12 Days of OCmas! Are Wren and Jonah as Star Crossed and Wren believes?

The tinkling of the bell above the door signaled their arrival. Too early for incoming influx of captains and merchants with documents to be reviewed and approved. Another two hours should have been free to work on overhauling the filing system that her boss had struggled to keep in order. She didn’t need to rush after hearing her son exclaim the visitor’s names.

“Uncle Fenrir! Uncle Ray!” The ten-year old’s voice echoed through the small building laced with surprise and joy. Abandoning his schoolwork for a chance to spend time with his two uncles. Amber eyes sparkled up at the two. Rarely did he get a visit from his family.

Fenrir beamed a grin at him, accepting the welcoming hug. “Reece, ya got taller!” He stopped by any time he came down to the ports, pitching in to help if Wren needed it.

Which meant today must be business. Never did Ray come by her work without warning. Placing down the files in their proper piles, Wren maneuvered through the chaos to emerge from the office. “Reece, you can go out for a break.” She didn’t want him to hear any military discussions, lest he want to join.

“Come on, I’ll buy ya a treat if it’s alright with your mom,” Fenrir offered to the eager boy, glancing to her for the okay.

It was like looking at two needy puppies. “That’s fine.” As Reece raced out the front door, Wren called to the ace with a serious tone. “No guns this time. I’ll kick your ass if you even think about it.”

She received a salute paired with wicked grin. “Yes, ma’am.”

“This time?” Ray questioned, emerald eyes moving from the vacant doorway to his sister.

“Reece is becoming increasingly interested in weapons ever since he was allowed to shoot Fenrir’s gun,” Wren replied with irritation. She’d agreed to teaching her son a little hand-to-hand combat for self-defense. At no point, had permission been given for him to wield a weapon.

Ray chuckled at her frown. “I count myself lucky that Fenrir came away in one piece.” His memories of a protective older sister when they were but children resurfaced with nostalgia. Though she came across as calm and collected, she possessed incredible fighting skill that could rival some of his chosen thirteen.

The army would gain much if Wren agreed to join, but he knew that she would never, not with her son to protect.

The two moved into the messy office for privacy. Wren cleared a spot on the desk to sit while Ray claimed the only empty armchair. “What are you looking for?”

“Shipping manifests that could pass initial inspection but might be importing contraband.”

Wren cast a glance over the organized mess. “I’ll look into it. Though, it will undoubtedly take me a few hours. What is it that’s being smuggled in?” If she had a frame of reference, then it would make the search much easier.

“You know I’m not supposed to tell you that.” The investigation now a joint one. He’d have to explain to the Reds why he involved a civilian in a sensitive, top secret mission.

“If I know what I’m looking for, the box size and contents will be much simpler to find.”

Ray shifted to cross his legs, mulling over his options. Trust wasn’t the issue. He knew Wren would be discrete and quick. But involving her meant bringing up her name at the meeting with Red Army late tonight. Was it better to have some information than come up empty with those smug bastards?

“Stop worrying. I want to help, so let me.”

He sighed. “Tainted magic crystals. They’re small enough to go undetected but a single one can cause massive damage. If the calculations are even slightly correct, the influx that has been reported could destroy half of Cradle. Wren, you don’t have to agree to this. I understand if you want me to walk away.”

A dire situation. Time sensitive.

Wren could see why he’d been hesitant to tell her. Part of her, the mother part, wanted to tell him no. Becoming involved opened her and Reece up to being targets. Her common sense wanted her to walk away.

But Ray would only come to her with something so dangerous if it weren’t his last option.

“I’ll do what I can.”

The King of Spades relaxed at her agreement. “Thanks, sis. I’ll assign a soldier to keep watch here and at your home. Just as a precaution.” His gaze flickered to the large clock sitting on the wall. They’d made a detour here.

“Go on. I know how busy you are. I’ll come by with whatever I find,” Wren said with a wave of her hand. They hardly saw each other but on a few of his off days.

After the two officers left, Wren gathered all the shipping manifests that were within the last few months to pour over at home. She only took a break to cook a light meal and eat with her son before it was back to examining the documents.

Night had settled in by the time she discovered anything significant. There were a handful of suspect items that had been flagged, but only one stood out. Regardless of her gut feeling, Wren took all of the evidence and would allow them to mark off the ones that were unneeded.

“Reece, I’m going to take some things to Ray. I’ll be back later-”

“I wanna come!” He cut her off, abandoning his schoolwork to scramble over the back of the couch. Amber eyes as big as a puppy, begging to for permission.

Wren reached out and brushed her hand through his red hair. Normally, it would be alright, but she wanted him nowhere near this case. “Not this time. I won’t be gone long. Stay here, okay?”

“Aww, but mom!” Reece protested with a frown.

“Please don’t fight me on this, Reece.” She pressed a kiss to his head as she gave him a tight hug. To admit it would be too hard, but there were more reasons than simply his safety from outside threats that she worried about.

<< << <<

Soldiers at the gate had redirected her to Central Quarter. The two armies had convened, and she’d have to find Ray there. The neutral zone hadn’t changed much. Wren only came when she absolutely needed to. She’d chosen to live in the port town of Black Territory, far away from anyone in Red Territory.

The meeting had come to a close by the time she arrived. She’d been greeted by the 10 of Spades on his way out with a tip of his hat. Wren stayed in the foyer of the Civic Center, finding a nice pillar to hide behind. The Jacks exited next and following them the Queens.

Their boots were all that echoed throughout the large room. Their dislike for each other well known. As one came to a stop, so did the other. “Who’s there? The Civic Center is closed. You’re trespassing.”

Ten years.

It had been ten years since she’d heard that voice.

And it still caused her heart to throb painfully inside her chest.

His steps grew closer.

If she continued to hide, it would reflect poorly. Wren moved from her spot behind the pillar. With stiff movements, she passed Jonah without a word, instead moving to Sirius. “I brought what the King of Spades asked for. I was only waiting for him to come down.”

“He mentioned that. I’ll deliver them for you.” Sirius took the compiled documents and headed back for the stairs. He cast a worried glance back over his shoulder, but the woman was already heading for the door.

Don’t look back. Keep walking.

Her palm pressed against the door, but cool fingers wrapped around her other wrist. Wren tensed at his touch, wanting to pull away but found herself unable to.

“I’m owed an explanation.”

He was right.

“You drop out of school and disappear for ten years.”

Her reason one that he wouldn’t understand.

“Wren! Look at me!” A gentle, but firm command.

Emerald green met beautiful molten amber.

Wren swallowed down the lump in her throat. It hurt more than she’d imagined it would. Strong emotions that she’d bottled up and shoved deep into her heart, rattled in their cage, threatening to burst out. If they did, she feared she’d lose all control. “We were dumb kids, who didn’t understand that it would never work.”

Not even she believed the words that passed her lips.

“How could you possibly know that?” He wore so many emotions. Hurt. Confusion. Anger. She’d vanished. The day prior they were sneaking off during a break to be alone, and the next, gone. No explanation. No note. “I searched for you. I went into Black Territory against my families wishes-”

His family the catalyst of her disappearance.

But she couldn’t reveal that.

“Jonah, we’re different people now. You’re exactly where you’re meant to be, and if we’re being completely honest, the Queen of Hearts could never be with the King of Spades older sister. One thing or another always got in our way.” Whether it be his family or the Red Territory fan girls who hounded her for even speaking to him back in school. His duties joining the army would have broken them apart, and once Ray became the King, that would have done them in as well. “It’s for the best.”

He was still the Jonah she’d fallen in love with. His brows creased, not willing to accept that he couldn’t have everything that he wanted. “Did you think me not enough to protect you?”

It had little to do with protection. Wren tugged her hand free, shaking her head. “You would never go against your family.” She turned and shoved the door open to escape into the chilled night air. Pain blossomed across her chest. Her legs threatened to give out.

Return to Black Territory and try to forget.

As if it worked the last ten years.

“What is that supposed to mean?” He couldn’t simply give in. None of his questions had been answered. Jonah followed; his voice drenched in confusion. “This isn’t about my parents. You left me, Wren! Without so much as a word. I deserve to know why!”

She clenched her fists and whirled around to face him. “It’s always been about them, Jonah! Do you have any idea how many times your mother found a way to make my life miserable? She’s the one who had me pulled from your class, turned my teachers against me, and she tried to pay me off when--” Wren caught herself before she blurted out the one thing she refused to speak of. Emerald irises fell away from the shock on his features.

Their raised voices had drawn the attention of the Jacks loitering by the fountain and with them, someone who was meant to be at home.

“Pay you off for what?” Jonah couldn’t think of a single thing that would require an exchange of money.

“It doesn’t matter. I didn’t take the money, but I did leave. It’s over, Jonah. I think it’s better if we just pretend we’re strangers.”

“No. I refuse to leave things this way-”

A small hand slipped into hers. Reece wore a concerned expression. He’d never seen her so upset. “Mom?” He’d disregarded her wishes, following her all the way to Central Quarter, where he’d never been before.

Jonah glanced between the two. “Mom? You have a son?” It was dark but the moonlight illuminated the boy well enough.

Matching amber eyes met for the first time.

The missing piece walked right into the puzzle.

#ikemen revolution #ikerev #jonah clemence #ray blackwell #fenrir godspeed #reece blackwell #wren blackwell #star crossed lovers

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theaterism · 3 years

Text

☆ a surprise for @magickedhat !

Foxtrot had never traveled outside England. New York felt distant, intangible, real in concept alone.

And yet, Wren showed him an invitation to a witch gathering there, and they asked him to accompany them. Foxtrot, baffled, lost his voice at first. They could bring one person with them. They’d thought of him. And they’d chosen him, someone who wasn’t even a witch, to join them. Gratitude and eagerness leapt in his chest. Some nerves flared as well, but he agreed with a smile. Of course he did. It was Wren.

The day of their departure arrived. Wren had hidden a transportation glove in Wetherton, tucked into a tree in the field where the circus performed. Suitcase in hand, Foxtrot took a breath and slipped his free hand into the glove. One instant he stood on grass; the next, he found himself in an unfamiliar room with a familiar face grinning at him. Wren. They wore the other glove and thereby held his hand the moment he appeared. He mirrored their grin in a heartbeat.

Time rushed past after that, and it swept him along with it. He’d arrived in Lou’s home in France. He met Lou soon afterward in a flurry of an introduction that slightly bewildered him. Wren called her a friend, so he trusted her. And she was nice. Genuinely nice. She gave them a tour of the bakery beneath her house. Foxtrot marveled at the magical treats in the back. Star-shaped tarts speckled with stardust and berries. Cakes with baked-in magic that brought happy memories. Donut filling laced with laughter.

Lou’s parents drove them to the magic portal to New York, concealed within a forest. Wren brightened the ride with conversation. Foxtrot smiled as he listened, and he felt comfortable enough to chime in as well.

The gathering struck a more familiar chord. He knew the etiquette expected in similar events. Manners. And the theater sometimes held formal occasions, which had provided him with suitable clothing.

He also revealed he could tie a tie.

Wren’s open approval flustered him so much that he flickered out of sight. His face burned. He returned the compliments with ease when he found his voice again, though, and sincerity softened his words.

He still teased Wren about their shopping quest. Several people had entrusted them with a proper pile of goods to buy. The kids split the list between them, and they turned the search into a competition to see who could find their items faster. Lou was right: it did prove to be a rather brilliant bonding activity. They got distracted with jests, but that added to the fun.

Something else caught their attention as well. The chocolate fountain. An amazing find. They debated stealing it. Tragically, it wouldn’t fit into Wren’s hat.

They sought grander excitement in the city. They roamed between towering buildings, down bustling streets, within crowded stores. Potential adventures surrounded them at every turn. And they couldn’t resist causing trouble. They stole souvenirs from shops. Wren hunted for fox-themed items; Foxtrot swiped model planes to add to their collection. He also stole Wren a fluffy stuffed dog — and naturally, they refused to consider it fluffier than him. They snapped candid pictures of each other to send to friends. They play-fought over the sillier ones.

On Wren’s broom, they soared upward and landed on rooftops. A rush of cold air and adrenaline. The people dwindled to pinpricks far below them. The cars seemed toy-sized. Heights thrilled them both.

They spent more time exploring the city than within the mansion. Still, they drifted inside for the festival. They pursued elusive items on their shopping list, conversed with other partygoers, admired the chocolate fountain. It continued to tempt them.

The mansion tested Foxtrot, though; more than he’d expected. Restlessness prickled beneath his skin. Sudden noises startled him. Certain things stirred half-forgotten memories or memories etched in nerves alone: a piece of clothing, a tone of voice, a clatter of glasses. His heartbeat raced. His throat tightened. He tried to ignore it, distract himself, focus on anything else. He could handle it on his own. He could control and stifle it. He didn’t need to bother Wren with it. And he masked it rather well.

The most trouble arose at night. They were staying in guest rooms in the mansion during the festival.

Foxtrot couldn’t sleep. His mind refused to settle; his worries echoed over and over: what if it happens again? what if I don’t escape in time? and Wren’s in the mansion as well, so what if— what if— And when the sharp taste of soot rose in the back of his throat, he slid from his bed and padded to the window-seat. He sat and gazed outside. The city lights washed out the starlight, the sky dark, so he traced memorized constellations in his head. He planned escape routes in case the past repeated itself. And he waited.

He dozed off sometime in the early morning, leaned against the cold glass of the window. Sunlight greeted him when he jolted awake. He bottled up the jagged remnants of dreams, and a breath of relief left him. Everything hadn’t quietly fragmented to ashes in the night. He was okay. And when he saw Wren again, the tension melted from his shoulders and he could breathe easier. They were okay. Safe.

Sleeplessness followed him the next night. Again, his wariness spiked once the sun dipped below the horizon; and again, he reviewed the best ways to escape. Weariness draped itself over him. He could still feign energy — as always, Wren’s presence brought easy grins and laughter. But they knew him. They spotted the slight shift in his demeanor.

His request to explore the mansion one night might’ve betrayed his unease too clearly.

They asked him about it. He faltered and misdirected at first, but he worried they’d assume he didn’t enjoy the festival — or worse, assume he didn’t enjoy their company — if he continued to hide the truth. So he admitted he’d lived in a mansion as a child. Staying in one again felt… strange. Not the whole truth, but more than he’d usually reveal. It was a deeper secret; a detail shoved behind him; an avoided subject.

The old mansion was a wound. He preferred pretending it had healed over without a scar.

He’d noticed subtle restlessness in Wren’s demeanor as well. He didn’t want to burden them and worsen their stress. Really, he wanted to ask whether they were alright, whether he could help them somehow, but the questions remained lodged in his throat.

They suggested a hotel. Gratitude swept over Foxtrot even as shame twisted in his stomach. A sharper guilt — years old, but enduring — burned in his core and reminded him he didn’t deserve their kindness. But passing out from exhaustion struck him as a more definite way to ruin their trip, so he agreed. His hesitance lessened when he helped pay for it.

Amazement grew within Foxtrot as they moved to the hotel and their trip continued. He expected Wren to express frustration or disappointment. He sensed neither. But he’d messed up; he’d shown weakness. He’d done nothing to earn their continued warmth. He feared their exploits would lose their excitement.

And yet, and yet, and yet — lightness and laughter resumed between them as though it had never left.

The hotel eased Foxtrot’s jumpiness; apprehension loosened its grip on him. Danger no longer seemed to lurk in the darkness after nightfall. Sleep regained its sense of safety. His dreams smoothed over, lost their smoldering sharpness. He could rest. His energy returned. And during the day, they joked around and explored and caused more trouble.

They spent a whole day dashing from one adventure to the next, narrowly avoiding danger several times along the way. The sky dimmed and darkened to a velvety blue. The city stayed alight. Rows upon rows of skyscraper windows glowed and stretched high above them. Headlights and streetlights gleamed in the streets. The motion quieted but never ceased. The kids’ sightseeing slowed as their energy faded. Exhausted, they collapsed onto a subway seat.

He’d messed up. And yet their fingers intertwined as casually and naturally as before.

They fell asleep leaned against one another. Their stop came and went, and another stop passed… and another. When they woke up, they found themselves disoriented and far from the hotel. Shared earbuds and music kept them awake on their return trip. They found ways to cheer themselves as well. Illusions deceived fellow people on the subway — pranks of Wren’s invention — and a fair bit of cash (possibly pickpocketed) found its way into Foxtrot’s jacket.

They made pancakes one morning. Their typical food was takeout, but Wren noted the benefit of cooking in hotels: they wouldn’t need to clean the resulting mess. A fair point. Foxtrot couldn’t argue with their reasoning. He lacked any skill in cooking — he was rubbish at it, really — so Wren did most of the work. They talked and joked together all the while. Their conversation meandered and glimmered with humor.

As Foxtrot rummaged for ingredients, his gaze kept drifting back to Wren. Their presence was familiar and vibrant and bright. They lit up every room they walked into. The weight on his shoulders eased, and warmth bloomed in his chest, light and sparkling.

He was happy, he realized. Truly happy.

Was that okay?

He still needed to ask Wren about their wellbeing. He would ask them. The words no longer felt trapped. He wanted to offer them the same compassion they’d offered him. They’d shown him more warmth than he’d ever deserve; more understanding than he’d ever expected to receive. They were a brilliant person in general, really. He’d be there for them, no matter what. Of course he would. It was Wren.

He poured the batter onto the pan, his brow creased with focus. Distantly, he noticed the flames on the stovetop didn’t spark anxiety. Wren’s flow of words washed away his nervousness. Aloud, Foxtrot compared the pancakes to coins. Wren mentioned doing tricks with them, and Foxtrot deemed this a challenge. One pancake fell from the window and landed on the head of an unfortunate passerby. Foxtrot and Wren dissolved into laughter.

Was it okay to feel this happy?

It’s okay, Foxtrot decided then, his smile lingering.

In this moment, it’s okay.

#magickedhat #|☆| stories #(gives u this very very gently!!!)#(gosh this got so long aaaaa)#(i literally just finished it before u showed me art of them agsgd kids!!!)#(their new york trip has been stuck in my head for so long and i wanted to write it out!!)#(i loved discussing it so much and i cried writing it agdgd)#(i had a bunch of fun with it as well tho!!)#(also i realized fox had never been to a place where he couldn’t see the stars before and hhhh)#(he felt lowkey lost…….)#(he was super grateful for wren in general!! it was tricky at times but they helped him a lot and he had so much fun)#(their support meant a lot to him)#(guilt definitely set in as well but the softness was very very good!)#(and i wanted to show what led up to him crying when they called him amazing bc like agdgd it was a Lot)#(and what led up to him hugging them………)#(BUT YEAH JUST!!)#(I APPRECIATE THESE KIDS A BUNCH!!)#|☽| foxtrot ( clever fox )#|☆| to the stars || fox & wren

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sustraiii · 3 years

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TEAM ZRCN ARC 3 - CHAPTER 20

I did say I had a bad feeling about this didn’t I?

Thanks to @neopoliitan for lending me his help with proofreading again!

HELIA

"I mean you've got to have some crazy stories right?"

Helia smirked into her cup of tea, then took a long sip before responding to the question. "I don't know what you're implying, Elio." She teased.

"No crazy fans? No crazy Grimm battles?" Elio pressed. "Come on, I bet you have some stories to tell."

"Not everyone has such a colourful life as you," Cherry laughed, nudging Elio in the side.

"Colourful is a bit of an understatement,” Morgan quipped, not looking up from where he was tinkering away on what looked to be Calantha’s armour.

“To answer your question - no, I do not have any crazy fans,” Helia responded, smiling slightly when she noticed that Elio seemed disappointed to hear that this was the case. “However, I do have a few crazy stories under my belt. There was one time in Higanbana that was particularly wild if I do say so myself.”

Elio leaned forward in interest. “Oh, do go on.”

Spurred on by Elio’s words, and further encouraged by the captive audience she had in Cherry and Calantha, Helia began to retell the events of what happened when her team had stopped in the town of Higanbana.

It was one of the last good memories she had of her team before growing tension had forced them apart. They were on their way back to Mistral following a mission in Shion when they had chosen to stop and rest. The journey back was taking longer than expected, hampered by Anthea having hurt her ankle, but they knew the village had an inn as they had passed through it on their initial journey. It seemed like a reasonable place to rest up.

In the end, it had turned out to be a good job they had stopped there - as only a few hours later the village had to contend with a large Archelon that had come up from the nearby river and had nearly bitten some poor teen’s arm off.

A long, tiresome battle between HNSA and the Archelon had soon followed, and after nearly two hours, they finally succeeded in defeating it. The Archelon had been a troublesome Grimm to deal with; its hard shell leaving it with only a few precise places to truly wound it. There was also its slightly hooked mouth to contend with, which made it nigh on impossible for anyone other than Anthea using her crossbow to hit it, until Leyla was able to successfully use her semblance to restrain it long enough for Alcyone and Helia to finish it off.

As she wrapped up her tale, there was a hint of sadness behind her words, the pain of Alcyone’s still recent passing rising up again. When tears threatened to form, she looked away, and made a hasty apology for almost crying.

“It’s okay,” Elio said, in a surprisingly soothing voice. He reached across and held her hand gently for a moment. “You don’t have to apologise.”

Helia smiled back at him in gratitude and took a moment to calm herself again with a steadying breath. She had just settled back down when Wren returned to the base with ZRCN in tow. She had received a call earlier in the morning and had left in a hurry soon after. Elio had tried to pry some information from Parson, teasing the man over the kiss he had shared with Wren the night before in an effort to get some information out of him, but he seemed to know just as little as the rest of them.

Wren and ZRCN entered the communications room and Helia noted that they appeared to be missing a member as Xanthos was nowhere to be seen. Clearly, she was not the only one who noticed as Elio was quick to ask in a light tone, “Where’s Ravindra? Don’t tell me he’s still in bed.”

“He’s on his way with Captain Bougainvillea,” Wren responded sharply. Helia was not used to such a tone from the older woman, so she would have been lying if she said she hadn’t been a little startled. Looking up at her, Helia could see the older woman appeared on edge, and it was only then that she realised the members of ZRCN who were present also appeared to look unsettled. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by the other Mob Ops either; Elio had promptly gone quiet following Wren’s response, he and the others all now looking directly at their leader, curious about her sudden change in attitude.

Despite some questioning looks from her teammates Wren said nothing and remained silent until the aforementioned arrival of Captain Bougainvillea with Xanthos in tow. When the two of them appeared, Helia suddenly had a good idea what had rattled everyone so much.

Xanthos was still wearing his formal clothes from the night before, only he was now down a jacket, his tie hung haphazardly around his neck, and the left sleeve had been torn at the shoulder.

“What even...What happened to him?” Morgan asked, following a sharp intake of breath.

“A member of staff at the university found him pretty banged up in one of the broom closets,” Carmen explained, looking at Xanthos as she spoke. “One of the medical staff checked him over and he was given the all clear - just a little dazed if anything.” Carmen smiled weakly before looking at Wren, a more serious expression taking hold. “You’ll want to hear what he has to say.”

She gestured for Xanthos to speak, but he appeared hesitant, and for a moment struggled to meet Wren’s gaze. “I’m sorry,” He finally said. “I really tried to stop them, but I failed…”

“What are you sorry for?” Wren asked.

“They took her - Belleza and Miho took Rosie!” Xanthos responded, a mix of anger and frustration in his voice. His gaze shifted over to Neela. “They took your sister too. Mira tried to help me, but she was caught in the battle and they took her with them.”

Neela blinked. “Ravi-”

But Xanthos had already turned away and was looking back at Wren. “I should have been able to do more, to put up more of a fight. They caught me off guard, and now because of me we might have lost them both!”

Wren’s expression softened considerably upon hearing his confession, and Helia watched as she stepped forward and gave him a small embrace. “It’s alright, Xanthos,” She told him as she pulled away.

“But…” He began to stammer.

“No buts,” Wren cut him off. “You did what you could at the time, and that’s all I can ask.”

“So what do we do now?” Parson asked. He rose from his chair and came to stand by Wren, resting a hand on her shoulder. Before Wren could even give an answer, it was Calantha who spoke up first.

“We could call Belle.” Was her suggestion, holding her modified scroll in one hand for emphasis.

“You’re able to call her?” Cherry asked, sounding surprised.

“Yes?”

“And you didn’t tell us this before?”

“It’s alright Cherry, I already knew,” Wren cut in, getting the other woman to stand down from her line of questioning. “The General and I both are aware she has a line of contact to her sisters. Numerous attempts were made to reach out to them before and after we left Atlas, but our calls were all ignored.”

“So why would she answer now?” Morgan questioned.

“Because she has something we want,” Calantha responded grimly.

The room fell silent after that, nobody appearing to know what to say or what to do, until finally Helia heard Wren speak again.

“Call her. And put her on speaker.”

Calantha nodded and tapped away on her scroll quickly, before placing it in the centre of the table where she was sat with Helia, Elio, and Cherry. Like everyone else, Helia watched as the scroll rang, waiting for the telltale noise the call had been connected. When the familiar click occurred, Helia was not alone in inhaling sharply.

“Helllooooooooooooooo,” Belleza Rossi’s voice rang out across the room. “Is that you, little lamb?”

Calantha hesitated. “It is.”

“Oh good, I was expecting a call from you soon. I’ve been waiting for my scroll for hours now for it to come in.” She laughed loudly. “Is Major Honeycutt there too?”

Wren leaned in close to the scroll. “I’m here,” She answered simply. “We’re all here.”

“How nice for you,” Belleza responded, her voice oozing with fake sweetness. “You must be calling about those items I have, correct?”

“They’re not items, they’re people,” Wren scolded.

“Mind your tone, major,” Belleza warned.

“We do not appreciate these games, Miss Rossi,” Wren pressed on. “We want Mira and Rosie back safe now.”

“Does that mean I get to keep the other one?”

Helia looked up, catching Cherry silently mouth “Other one?” in the direction of Elio and Morgan, who shrugged in response.

“I don’t follow.”

There was a ping sound on the scroll as another message came through. Wren was quick to give her consent, and Calantha leaned forward, tapping a few buttons on the screen to open the message, which turned out to be an image attachment, and opened it up. Helia studied the screen intently as a silver haired boy appeared on it. She did not recognise him, but it was very clear that all of ZRCN did, none more so than Zelde.

“That’s my brother!” She blurted out, which quickly answered any questions Helia and the others had over his identity. “But that’s impossible. He’s in Atlas right now.”

“He was in Atlas,” Belleza corrected, having heard Zelde’s comment through the scroll. “He was a little gift we picked up just before we left for Highpoint. I would have thought by now his parents might have filed a report for him, but we’ve heard nothing.” There was a pause before she could be heard snickering. “And here I was thinking I had parental problems.”

Although Zelde was standing far away from her, Helia could sense her tension from the other side of the room. On either side of her, Zelde was flanked by Cordovan and Neela, who pressed against her in a comforting manner. Helia could not imagine what it felt like to find out your brother had been held in the clutches of Belleza Rossi for all this time.

“We want them all back,” Wren said into the scroll. “Do you hear me? All of them.”

“I hear you loud and clear,” Belleza responded. “And you can have them all back. But first you can do something for me.”

“No.”

“You haven’t even heard what I have to say yet!” Belleza protested.

Wren groaned loudly. “Go on.”

“Wise choice,” Belleza said, as though agreeing to hear her terms was some great decision. “I have something you want, and you have something I want - or rather my sister wants - so it stands to reason we can resolve all of this with a simple trade.”

“I’m not-”

“You don’t get the deciding vote here,” Belleza said sharply, cutting Wren off before she could finish. “Calantha, are you listening?”

Helia looked up at Calantha, and noticed how rigid she had become.

“You know I couldn’t care less where you are and what you are doing right now,” Belleza began, her words implying she was speaking solely to Calantha at this point. “But Bianca...she misses you dearly. She blames me for you leaving naturally, even though I’ve told her time and again, you made that choice on your own.” Belleza let out an exaggerated sigh. “Come home, Cala. Bianca misses you and I know you miss her too. Come back to Olympia with me and I’ll let the others walk free.”

“What if I say no?” Calantha asked.

“No?” Belleza repeated. “No?” By the tone she used, she hadn’t even considered this to be an option from her sister. “If you say no, then it's quite simple - they come home with me instead.” There was a long pause before she added, “Since you seem unable to make a decision right now, I have decided to be generous and give you some time to think things over. You can have forty-eight hours. And if I don’t hear anything from you by then, I will take that as your answer. Goodbye for now, Calantha. I hope to see from you soon.”

“Wait!” Wren called. “Are they safe? Is Rosie-”

But Belleza had already hung up before Wren could get her answer. Wren placed her hands on the table, and lowered her head, sighing softly to herself.

“Malaka!” Elio cursed from his seat. “What are we going to do now?”

#team ZRCN #team zrcn fic #Zelde Sewick #Cordovan Radcliff #Neela Oxford #Xanthos Ravindra #helia vines #wren honeycutt #carmen bougainvillea #morgan lark #elio goldfinch #cherry linnet #parson rook #calantha rossi

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swamplatibule · 3 years

Text

Paramay Prompt Three! Para+Childhood

I HAVE BEEN WRITING THIS FOR FOUR MOTHERFUCKING DAYS NOW AND I HAVE NO REGRETS :DDDD

this has not been proofread it is 10 at night, I am exhausted, please accept my humble offerings

Damn, only prompt three and I’m already forced to reveal everyone’s tragic backstory oh well lol

Trigger warnings: Abuse, arson, su•c•de, death, homophobia, murder, gun mention

tw; death mention

Alright alright alright let’s fuckin goooo we’ll start off with Hollister, her childhood is no doubt the easiest to write since it’s basically been the same her whole life.

She never met her parents. She doesn’t know if they’re dead, or if they just decided they didn’t want a kid, or if something else happened, and she doesn‘t care. It’s not her problem. At least, she tells herself that, but she really isn’t 100% sure that it wasn’t somehow her fault. Poor baby.

She‘s completely grown up in the foster care system, bouncing from home to home. Hollister kept running away, getting caught, and being sent somewhere else. She’s also, guess what, a fucking genius with technology.

One time she tried running away and then erasing herself from the system. It didn’t work, but nobody realized that she’s tried to do it, so it’s fine, nothing went wrong.

A few weeks into her newest home, one of the other foster kids named Silas (who she’d been fast friends with) went missing days after developing a weird anti-gravitational power. And so she tried to find him. She stumbled across the Starwritten Society - when I say “stumbled across” I mean she followed a few very questionable leads on, like, conspiracy theory websites and shit and actually found something - and hacked into the archives, trying to find some sort of info.

Now, you can imagine the panic that caused in the Society. Complete lockdown. The Starwritten Society is top-secret, and nobody just hacks into the archives that easily. She didn’t actually find anything, one because she didn’t get time to look around before the security system actually started working and kicked her out, and two because Silas just wasn’t in the records anyway, meaning he’d disappeared some other way.

However, before she could go out looking for him, there were three agents knocking at the door, having tracked her location here. And you can imagine the looks on their faces when they saw that the person who had caused the mass panic that morning was none other than some kid with a computer that looked home-made.

Things happened, she asked to join because, y’know, fuck yeah secret society, paperwork was filed, and she got in. She’s currently the youngest trainee to join the Society in seventy-four years. Also, fun fact, they had to fill out the adoption papers and such, so she’s listed as the child of Director Iara Adams. Which isn’t that big of a deal, since literally every kid in need of adoption taken in by the Society is adopted under her name, and most have only interacted with her like once, but... it’s a cool world building detail I felt like I needed to add.

Anyways, ONWARD!!!

——————————————

tw; homophobia

Kennedy was born in a pretty influential family with very “traditional” values. They kinda suck, so we won’t get too into that shithole.

Each generation of that family has had like six kids, and every single time, one turns out to be lgbtq+ and gets ✨disowned✨because the parents are just kinda assholes. It’s just this never-ending cycle.

Suffice it to say, Kennedy - being a flaming bisexual and all that - got disowned when she was like twelve after one of her siblings outed her by accident. Her uncle took her in. Guess what? He had also been disowned! When he was fifteen!

And he also went on to become a very important person in the Starwritten Society, and when he discovered Kennedy’s complete genius with technology, he recommended her to become a trainee at 17 years old.

To be honest, Kennedy’s basically gotten the short end of the stick when it comes to characterization and fleshing-out. I have quite a few paras like that, sadly. I think I might make her a playlist sometime and let her be the main character for a while.

——————————————

tw: abuse, arson, su•c•de, murder, gun mention

Fox. Oh boy. Fox grew up in a very... tense household. His father started out pretty okay when he was a younger kid, but he slowly started getting more and more violent and controlling, to both Fox, his twin sister, and his mother.

Fox always had a very close relationship with his sister, Wren. You know that siblings meme? The “You are my sister, you are my brother, we are siblings and we care for each other,”? The were the living definition of that. They managed to keep a definite sense of humor and lightheartedness with each other, despite everything that had been going on.

They weren’t fine, but they had each other.

And then Wren went missing. There was a huge police search, but they didn’t find anything. Fox was fourteen at the time. That experience basically broke him, and he never saw Wren again.

A month later, he was coming home from school, got off the bus, and found the house in smoking ruins. His mother hadn’t been able to take his father’s abuse anymore, and she couldn’t see any way out. So she set the house on fire, killing both herself and her husband.

Fox, who was a mental wreck at this point, as almost anyone would be, was placed into the foster care system. He never stayed anywhere for longer than a week. His humor became a shield for him, an easy way to seem like he was fine when he wasn’t. After about a year, he ran away. And then joined the circus. Why, you ask? Because I said so; I grow these flowers and if you don’t like it then you can leave my garden

Fox was always a flexible kid. He’d been in gymnastics classes since he was five. And, as it would turn out, he was damn good on a trapeze. It wasn’t a very big circus, just some small family-run traveling one, but it gave him a place to stay and an environment that welcomed him, and that was good enough for him.

He was with the circus for about four years, up until he was eighteen, so technically this isn’t his childhood anymore, but I’m gonna keep going because I want to.

The Starwritten Society was following a lead on an underground lab somewhere around the place where Fox’s circus was performing. Kennedy was actually on the mission, although she doesn’t do many of those anymore after she got injured in the field and such and I’ll talk about that later. Anyway.

The team of agents who were on the search came across the circus, and figured it was as good of a place as any to try and find the person they were looking for, Eleanor Sylvidas. She was actually in the crowd watching, and there was a confrontation after the show. Fox went to check it out, being the one generally in charge of telling people to cool it whenever small fights broke out between customers, but he wasn’t quite sure what to do in a situation where both parties happen to have guns pointed at each other. Especially when Eleanor pointed her gun at his head and told the agents that if they didn’t back down, she’d shoot him.

That wasn’t exactly something that happened to him on a day-to-day basis.

Of course, a fight broke out. Actually, Fox made the first move, he literally tried to snatch this woman’s gun out of her hand. It didn’t work, but the shot she took at him definitely missed, and then there was a very chaotic fight scene and Eleanor ended up losing and got arrested. Course, they still had to find the lab so they could get the kids out of there. Fox was very helpful in that aspect, too.

Once the mission had been completed, he was offered a place as a trainee in the Society. Those who were there will say that the offer was accepted immediately, but he was actually a bit reluctant. He made the choice to go, however, and it proved to be one of the best decisions he’s made.

——————————————

tw; abuse, violence, gun mention

Wilson. Where do I start? He has trauma, definitely, although so does practically everyone who works with the Starwritten Society.

See, Wilson is actually one of the people who were rescued from labs as children, but there are two things that sets him apart from others.

1. He wasn’t kidnapped at birth or after he developed abilities. He was literally created in a lab, which has led to a lot of self-doubt due to being raised to believe he wasn’t “natural”.

2. The Society aims to rescue all powered children from labs as soon as possible, and since many of them are kidnapped at a young age, they try to get them out at least before they turn 10. Wilson wasn’t found until he was a bit older than 17.

He wasn’t even given a name while he was in the lab. He was just “Project Firebird”, with abilities including fire and heat manipulation, as well as immunity to those two things, plus flight and enhanced strength, speed, and stamina. Wilson was made for the sole purpose of being a weapon.

The person running the lab? An absolute fucker of a man named Alastor Killigan. Him? I cannot put into words how much I hate him. He just really fucking sucks, and not in a “loveable bastard“ way. I honestly wish I could physically teleport into my daydreams just to set this bitch on fire.

Anyway, he’s running this whole operation. He’s got guards, he’s got other scientists who he may or may not have blackmailed into helping him, he’s got people who work for him. And this isn’t the first time he’s done this. That’s right, Grey isn’t the first time he’s tried to weaponize a kid. He got caught by the Society last time, but escaped, and now he knows that he has to keep moving around constantly.

So the first 17 years of Grey’s life were just constant training and experiments and tests and moving around and being raised to believe that he was a literal monster and wasn’t worth anything if he wasn’t a weapon. Fucked up, right? But, see, the Society had no idea he existed. They found the lab kids through keeping tabs on recent kidnappings and disappearances. Grey wasn’t on any of those lists. The only people aware of Grey’s existence were Alastor and the people working for him.

In fact, the Society only found him by chance. They managed to track Alastor’s location and find him to arrest him, and they found Grey while they were doing that. There was a huge fight, but Alastor lost, and Grey got rescued. Things were looking up.

Because the Society legally adopts all the orphaned kids they take in, Grey needed a name. He also just needed a name in general. The lady filling out the papers told him he could just pick something, and he panicked. He wasn’t used to being allowed to make his own decisions. There was a plaque on the wall with a list of people who’d been top agents in the past, and he just read one of those.

Grey Wilson.

So, y’know, that‘s why it says he was a top agent in 1937. Just a heads up.

Have I talked about the Society’s different departments yet? No? Maybe I’ll do that later, but anyway - one of the divisions is basically therapy, because some of these kiddos have severe trauma and need help. Grey worked with a woman named Mags for a few years, and then started training for the High-Risk Rescue department. He was taking charge of his own future! Yayyyy!

Oh yeah and then Alastor escaped - again, and Mags went missing on the same day and it was presumed Alastor killed her on his way out, and Grey hasn’t seen either of them since. He’s been working in the Society for about 22 years now, trying to make sure that nobody goes through what he has. He decided early on that he didn’t want to use his abilities again, ever, and it’s become his personal secret, with very few people knowing.

#paramay #paraportal #my paras #my paracosm #paracosm: The Starwritten Society #Para: Hollister #Para: Fox #Para: Wilson #Para: Kennedy #tw homophobia #tw suicide #tw death mention #tw murder #tw arson #tw gun mention #tw abuse #Oh boy I just realized the picture of Tom Hiddleston from my first Paramay post is the header photo #for the whole tag now #well ain’t that fuckin embarrassing lol

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transxfiles · 4 years

Text

Lumberjanes Week Day One: Favorite Roanoke (Jo)

A Single Brown Feather, An Anagram, And A Search In The Dark In The Forest At Night

Jo is clever. She’s clever. She can figure a way out of this.

Something’s up with Molly. They’ve all noticed it, by now. She’s acting strange and speaking with an odd lilt to her voice and her eyes have gone just the slightest bit golden. Normally, they all would have attributed it to nerves; camp would be ending, soon. They all knew that. And they all knew that Molly was anxious about it most of all, even if none of them knew exactly why.

(Well. Mal knew exactly why. Jo knew that Mal knew because April heard from Ripley who heard Mal and Molly talking in hushed tones about it, and April wrote this all down in her great pink notebook and she handed it over to Jo for a read-over. Jo is a scientist, first and foremost, yes. But she took a class in crime scene analysis, and one in psychology, and one in forensics; in short, she makes a rather good detective.)

And today, during capture the flag, Molly disappeared. Mal disappeared, too, shortly after Molly did. They think she was going after her.

The rest of the Roanokes are in their cabin, now. Jen’s holding Ripley and holding back tears, the two of them sitting on a bunk together. Meanwhile, April and Jo have put together a bulletin board of clues, cross-referencing the notes they’ve been keeping, trying to figure out what’s going on.

The Zodiacs are here, too. April thought they’d be of help

“They lost their counselor to the woods at the beginning of the summer,” she’d explained. “I think they might know more than they’re letting on.”

Emily had offered up her notes to Jo; apparently the Roanokes hadn’t been the only ones keeping tabs on everything. Now, Hes and Wren are doing a sweep of the cabin, looking for clues. Cleaning out Molly’s bunk, and then Mal’s, shifting through duffle bags and peeking behind posters. Barney’s attempting to comfort Jen, though how well that’s working is questionable. Diane’s explaining everything she knows about forest magic to Jo - though apparently, she actually doesn’t know that much.

“It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen, to be honest,” Diane says, sounding defeated.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never seen a place where time works like this. Not even on Olympus, not even in Hades. As soon as my parents set me down in this forest I felt weird. Like, it was trying to take my magic from me.” Diane’s voice is shaking. “I think it’s hungry.”

Jo writes that down; she thinks she can work with that, maybe. Diane’s being cryptic, but for the first time, Jo’s willing to believe it’s because she’s actually as in the dark as the rest of them.

Mackenzie walks up to the bulletin board, eyeing the red string tying together bits and pieces of information. Notes, photographs, pieces of moss, a scrap of green fabric they found snagged on a thornbush during their first search of the forest after realizing Molly was gone. She looks at one photograph, of a dark cave covered by a waterfall.

“You guys know about the Voice?” She asks.

They look up at her.

“The Voice?” Says Jo, an echo. “The one that keeps sending monsters after us? The one that made Molly stop time?” “Yeah,” Mackenzie says. “It… it took Vanessa from us.”

“Vanessa?”

“Their counselor,” Jen says, standing up. “Purple hair, spiked up all the time, never wore her uniform, took all the good coffee from the mess hall, deadly good at scrabble. Was with us until about a week or see into the summer. And then she disappeared.”

Jo looks up from her notes. “The… the Voice took her?”

April’d told her this, of course. Mentioned it in passing. But she hadn’t expected confirmation.

“That’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“And you think it took Molly, too?” Asks Jo.

“No,” says Hes. She stands up from where she was kneeling beside Molly’s bunk. She’s holding a single brown feather. “I think she went to it willingly.”

Hes hands the feather to Jo.

“What can you say about this?” She asks.

Jo shrugs. “I…”

She doesn’t know what to say.

She’s clever, so, so, clever, but she never learned her birds. The Roanokes have never really been big on earning badges, much more concerned with running about in the woods, causing trouble if they can, stopping it if they must. That’s the point of camp, that chaotic aspect. They hadn’t gotten to birding yet. They were supposed to go two days from now, out in the forest with binoculars. They’d promised Jen. Jo knows it’s not going to happen now.

“Here,” Jen says, quietly. “Bring it over here, please?”

Jo pads over, keeping her feet light on the ancient wooden floor. The cabin is silent.

She places the feather in Jen’s hands.

“It’s unlike any I’ve seen before,” says Jen. She turns it over in her hands a few times, runs her thumb along the soft edge. “It’s a flight feather, definitely. You can see it in the shape, here, the sharpness of the form. But it’s too large to belong to any bird I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s brown,” Jo adds. “So it can’t belong to the Roc - its wings are black.”

“Yes.”

“Where did you find this?” Asks Jo, though she already knows the answer.

“Molly’s bunk.”

Her stomach won’t stop twisting itself into knots.

“Okay. So we think that Molly went to the Voice willingly. Why?”

“She doesn’t want summer to end,” says Ripley. “Mal… Mal said her parents weren’t nice, like ours are.”

“She doesn’t want to go home.” “The Voice has stopped time before,” says Wren. “We all saw the bubble incident.”

“The bubble…” Jo’s eyes go wide. “Bubbles! Where’s Bubbles?”

Suddenly they’ve all descended into a bout of chaos, searching the cabin high and low. Jo knows, she knows , that this is the best lead they’re going to get in a long, long while. If they can find the raccoon.

Ripley’s the one who finds him. Drags him out from under the her bed, a chittering anxious mess. He’s far more animalistic than what Jo’s used to; his normally too-intelligent eyes are dark and terrified, his claws are out and thrashing and frantic. He’s fighting against Ripley. He’s never fought against Ripley before.

“He’s scared,” she says.

Jo steps forward to take him from her arms, but April stops her.

“I’m the strongest one here,” she says, quietly. “I should do this. Just in case he… well, in case he gets any worse.”

Jo nods.

April reaches out and picks Bubbles up, and he immediately tears a slash in her beautiful lavender sweater. April winces, but Jo can tell it isn’t too bad; there’s no blood. For whatever reason, April’s always been hard to hurt. She’s strong as hell, and her skin doesn’t cut, unyielding to knives or claws or thorns.

“Molly,” April says to Bubbles.

Normally, Bubbles’s eyes light up at the name.

Now, he hisses, fights April’s iron grip even more.

Jo and April share a look.

Something is horribly wrong.

Jo has never hated investigating the woods at night before, though she’s starting to.

They’ve split up. Three groups; April, Wren, and Emily in the first. The second, Ripley, Hes, and Jen. Jo, Diane, and Barney in the last one..

They know it’s stupid and they know it’s impulsive and they know that the odds of them coming out of this one alive are slim, but they’ve decided to go looking for the Voice’s cave anyway.

Rosie told them not to, when they told her what was going on. Shouted at them to stay inside. Locked down the camp. It was a pain to get through her security, though easier with Jen on their side. A counselor, it seems, can slip through anything.

Jo had to make the plan, what with Mal gone. And Jen helped a bit. And they still managed to get through, nonetheless, and out into the woods safe and sound, for now.

Ripley, Hes, and Jen are trying to find Abigail, or the Bearwoman. Someone who knows about magic, someone who’d be willing to help. But the woods are a maze that changes its form with every step, and they don’t have any means of communication, even with the flares Jen promised to send up in case anything went awry.

Jo tries not to think about what might happen if the flares don’t work. Or if some tragedy befalls the group before they have time to send one up. Or if something clever, more clever than any of them put together, manages to get to them first, stealing a flare and then stealing them away like the Voice stole Molly and Mal. Because, though Jo knows it’s naive, she continues to hold onto the promise that Molly didn’t choose this. That Molly’s out there, fighting the Voice, that Mal is fighting alongside her, that they’re not handing over their souls willingly in exchange for more summer days.

Jo looks up to see Diane in front of her, turns to check that Barney’s still at her back. The trail they walk is becoming more and more narrow with each step they take. Diane keeps insisting this is good. At least, for their purposes.

“The more the trail narrows, the more the forest is trying to steer us away. It means that we’re heading towards something it doesn’t want us to find.”

“Like the Voice,” Jo says.

“Exactly.”

It feels like they’ve been walking for days, now. That the night is lasting forever. And who could tell, either way? Time doesn’t work here, not really. When Jo looks up, she sees a starless sky. Cloudy, she’d think, if she was anywhere but here. Instead, she looks up and she grows wary.

The forest controls everything, here. The deeper in they go, the more powerful it becomes.

The starless sky is a warning. She’s sure of it.

“What does the Voice look like?” Asks Barney.

“Well,” says Diane, thinking. “Great big red eyes. Body made of shadow. Evil, as far as we can tell…”

Jo finds herself smirking, despite it all. “Evil isn’t a physical trait.”

“It is on this piece of shit.”

“And we used to have a counselor?” Barney asks.

Diane nods. “Yeah. Vanessa. She disappeared before you joined up. At first we thought she just went into town on important business, or something. But then she was gone for a long time, and so Hes went looking - she was appointed Stand-In Counselor or something, thought she could boss us around - and she ended up in dark forest. Got lost for a few days. Discovered a scrap of Vanessa’s favorite t-shirt, apparently, muddied and looking a thousands years older than it should have been, but there, nonetheless. Picked it up, and immediately found herself face to face with a pair of glowing red eyes, and voice that chilled her to her bones.”

“The Voice.”

“We think so, yeah.” She looks at Jo. “At least, matches your descriptions of it.”

“Yeah.” Jo sighs. “Yeah.”

“Jo?” Says Barney. “Diane?”

“What is it, Barn?”

“Do you…” they sigh. “Do you think we’re actually going to find Molly?”

“Of course!” Jo says.

She hopes she’s not as bad a liar as she feels.

They get up and start walking again. The trees get closer and closer together, so thick they feel like a wall of solid wood. But Jo and Diane and Barney push through them. And then they find themselves met with vines. And they tear up the vines and push through these, too, and find themselves met with thorns. And on and on it seems to go, and Jo knows, knows with more than just gut instinct, that the forest doesn’t want them here.

She barely notices it when written on one of the trees is a word.

Well, the more accurate description would be carved into one of the trees.

“What does this say?”

“What?”

Jo’s stopped walking entirely, staring at the etching in the bark. “There’s something carved into this tree. I know there is.” Curse her horrible eyesight. She’s probably due for glasses anytime soon.

“Wait,” Barney says. “Diane. You can see in the dark, right?”

“How did you know that?”

Barney sighs. “Do you know how many times I’ve walked into the cabin to find you reading in the dead of night without a light on? It’s not that hard to tell. Emily told me that she actually thought you were a demon or something before she found out you were a goddess because of your wacky night vision.”

“Okay, fine. I have night vision. It’s a perk of being goddess of the hunt.”

“Okay,” Jo says, stepping aside from the tree. “Can you read this?”

Diane steps up to it, and squints. “These don’t even sound like real words.”

“Just say what it says.”

“Okay… um… ‘Wham! I Play Level Loom.’” She shakes her head. “It’s probably nothing. I mean, Level Loom? I can’t be the only one here who thinks this is ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” says Jo. “It’s an anagram.”

“Anagram?”

“Molly’s speciality.” She tries to sound calm. "It's gotta be a sign. Someone’s trying to tell us something."

Jo grabs a pencil from behind her ear, a pad of paper from her pocket. She starts writing down combinations of letters, scribbling furiously.

Barney and Diane share a glance behind her back. Diane doesn’t like the Roanokes, not really, but she is worried for them. Barney likes the Roanokes quite a bit; they’re worried for them, too.

They move away from Jo, sitting on a rock and letting her work in peace. Sometimes they pass a word or two between themselves in ASL - Wren’s been teaching them in their free time around the cabin, and they’re both quite good at it.

There’s a noise somewhere above them, a flutter of wings. They pay it no mind; there are many creatures in this forest, mostly harmless. Bats are common.

“Via Elmo, He Pwoily?” Jo mutters. “No, that’s not a word - Leave Him Wool… no, that won’t work, that doesn’t even make sense…”

The sound of pencil scratches is so loud in Jo’s ears, and the sound of those gears turning and turning in her head, she doesn’t hear the distant screams. April’s screams, she would have known, had she only listened.

Barney hears the screams. But before they can say anything, they’re gone. Diane looks up to find herself sitting next to no one.

“Jo?” She says, her voice shaking.

“Hold up Diane, not now, I’ve almost got this,” she mutters. Jo’s clever. She’s so clever, and she knows it, she knows she can do this. She has a few words down. “I have…” she writes those in. She still has a few more letters left, but then something clicks in her brain.

“Jo,” Diane says, a strange urgency in her voice. “Jo.”

“I’ve got it!” Jo says, finally looking up from her notepad. “I have Molly Powell.”

She’s so proud of her work, she doesn’t even process the words at first. And then those gears in her head start to turn, again, and she drops her pad on the ground.

“Oh my god.” “Jo?” Asks Diane. “Jo. Who has Molly?”

“I…”

I have Molly Powell.

“Hello,” says a twisted voice from above them.

Diane and Jo look up into that ink black sky.

Jo almost screams. But she knows better. April’s taught her to stand her ground.

Diane does scream. She figures that now, there’s nothing more to lose.

In the sky, wings grown from her back, eyes an icy gold, is Molly.

“I have Molly Powell,” says another voice, from behind them. A voice that sends shivers down Jo’s spine, one that’s she’s never quite heard before, but recognizes, nonetheless.

Not a voice.

The Voice.

“I think we’re going to have a lot of fun this summer,” it says. “Don’t you?”

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