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calling4glaives · 2 years

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Nyx's Cork Board, pt II

Moving on to the left side of the board!

Here's the link to part I, if you missed it.

Nyx has several interesting pictures. The first is a family portrait with Nyx’s mother and presumably father (based on the rather extreme resemblance to Nyx), the kids, and an older man. Who is the older man? An uncle? A grandfather? Another father?

Young Nyx apparently has already found his signature hairstyle, with his sides shaved. Based on their relative sizes and face shapes, I’d guess Nyx is around nine to eleven here, and Selena around seven, but it’s hard to tell at this age and level of details. Your thoughts?

It’s so nice to actually see not only these important ladies, but some examples of female Galahdan fashion. Both have long hair, though Mama for sure has hers pulled up, and both are wearing these chain-like hairpieces. Many cultures have unbound hair as a sign of an unmarried or younger woman, perhaps that’s the case here. Selena’s jewelry goes over her hair, and Mama’s under, which could be another indicator of maturity. Selena has two braids visible, one under each ear, though the details of them are not very clear between the damage and the darkness of the picture.

Neither woman has visible tattoos in this shot, though that doesn’t mean they don’t have them. Both appear to be slightly made up, with Mama wearing foundation and possibly lipstick and both women with eyeshadow or liner. Though that could just be the Standard Female Eyeliner that is just how movies imagine all women look constantly.

Mama is wearing black with a high collar and long, fitted sleeves – fashion choice, women’s wear or widow’s wear? Selena has a lighter, looser shirt with a pattern on it, with a v neck that might possibly imply overlapping panels like a kimono and a polka-dotted scarf tied around her neck.

The heavy candlestick or lamp in the back of this photo (seen more easily in zoomed-out pictures) and the tiles on the wall (or square, glazed windows?) next to a possible incense burner, vase, or statue, might indicate this is at home, or perhaps a shrine? Either way, the photo, despite being crisp, is badly damaged and hard to make out.

Map of Galahd

Star Junco has convincingly argued that this is a map of Galahd underneath all the other items here. In addition to her excellent map analysis, I want to talk about the “x” on one of the islands. Nyx’s hometown, perhaps? Or one of his parents’? Or something else?

In the cluster of artwork at the bottom, two of the pictures appear to be less formal, shall we say. The lower watercolor-like shows two black-haired figures with wide open mouths – one with a ponytail and pink patterned dress, one with shorter hair in a blue shirt with a red cape – either swimming or flying on a blue background above green plants. I think this was definitely done by a kid – one of Axis or Pelna’s theorized kids, maybe? Or someone Nyx helped? Or perhaps, judging by the bangs and relative size of the images, a drawing of Selena and Nyx by a young Selena? It looks rather like Superman, which makes us wonder about Lucis’s comic book scene.

The next image is a painting of a malboro holding an orange sphere and is labeled Nyx very neatly. While this could be another kid drawing, I’m inclined to say this was painted by a glaive or adult – it’s not super stylized, and while not sophisticated, seems to have a fair amount of control. Perhaps someone mad at Nyx for stealing their orange? Whatever it shows, there’s definitely a story here.

Under the more home-made art, there appears to be a woodblock-style print or perhaps detailed drawing of an almost meso-american type figure surrounded by a border of possibly hearts. It might possibly represent Quetzalcoatl based on some of what it is holding – a snake and a scepter or weapon – as well as the spines and feathers on the back and the spirals on its chest and ear like a shell or comma. See:

(images courtesy of the wikipedia article on Quetzalcoatl)

The other item the drawing holds could be the fire serpent of Huitzilopochtli, a deity associated with war and the sun, and the weapon itself has interesting lightning/war associations. Is this a Galahdan depiction of Ramuh? Bahamut? Someone else? Or perhaps a dawn/sun mythos, as Quetzalcoatl is associated with the formation of the fifth sun? Some more mythology and archaeology information on some of the symbols and Quetzalcoatl can be found here and here.

As best I can decipher, the certificate says “Nyx Ulric: XXXXX to the XXX XXX lands beyond the wall. ??? V 744” and is signed Regis Lucis Caelum in cursive, the only instance of cursive in the series I know of. Interestingly, it doesn’t have any titles for Regis, nor any ornaments on the paper itself, which is very crisp still. It looks almost like Nyx printed this off himself, as a matter of fact, and Regis’ signature is so regular it’s either a stamp or a font. Hmmm…

Selena’s letter is also so crisp it looks like a photocopy. The limits of CGI, probably. It’s much more legible: “Dear Nyx, Happy 20th Birthday! It’s weird to write a letter when we live in the same house, but you’ve been working (I think?) so late that we never get to talk, so you’ll just have to read this in my voice. I made you a good luck charm to commemorate the occasion, pretty sweet, right? I put my … it, so hold onto it, will ya?”

T_T What is the good-luck charm? It could be the Lil Malbuddy charm, but that looks too manufactured. Part of his uniform, maybe? The Malboro!Nyx drawing?

The “(I think)?” is often construed to mean Nyx is doing resistance work, but as discussed above that’s slightly confusing timeline-wise. One of Nyx’s bios says he is a "Native son of Galahd who fought alongside the local Resistance before arriving in Insomnia to serve Regis in the Kingsglaive." Does that suggest Niflheim was there before the attack, or that he participated in it for a very short time between the attack and going to Insomnia? Maybe Selena died in a later raid? Perhaps when they say 'resistance' they really mean something more like 'militia' and they were going outside of Galahd to help. Or perhaps it was just laziness and the rule of making it relate to the protagonist as much as possible >.>

Finally, let’s look at the board as a whole, all these memories topped by a cluster of plants and stiff ribbons of red, green, white, and yellow. The bouquet appears to mainly be green leaves, perhaps with some flowers hanging down. If these are artificial, could this be Selena’s charm? It doesn’t quite look like either sasaki or shikimi, the two plants most associated with Japanese shrines from my quick research. I wonder what they are?

Propped up like this with the incense burner and candle, plus the bouquet at the top, it definitely seems to have spiritual significance. A memorial seems the most common guess, but there are definitely living people on it as well – the picture of young Nyx and Libertus in uniform plus the letter from Regis seem to apply to more than just the dead or lost. And the haphazard organization – overlapping images, unused pins at the top – seems to imply something more casual. What are your thoughts?

Thanks again for sticking with us through this whole thing! Again, if you haven't yet done so, please fill out our survey for our next event!

#kingsglaive #ffxv #Nyx Ulric #deep dive #part ii

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seokiloquy · 4 years

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Lost In- What Word? Pt 1 - Akaashi Keiji

AU: Single Parent

Requested

Word Count: 4.5k+

Disclaimer: Fem! Reader, Time skip spoilers, Udai being a meta Furudate insert, just fluff

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3

Akaashi wasn’t sure if Udai was naturally forgetful, or just held so much anticipation in his smaller form that he glossed over details and didn't realize it. Udai was an excellent author despite not having reached the major public yet. His first published work was short and eerie which most of the shonen reading population didn’t greedily rip off the shelves. Although, those that did read it gave him overwhelming support, maybe the rest of the world wasn’t ready for that kind of psychological horror just yet.

When Akaashi originally applied for a position at the publishing company he intended to work in the literature department, editing lengthy novels and picking out grammatical errors, not reading conversations via text bubbles and looking for continuity errors between images. He never did pick out the exact moment he went from editor to fact-checker and archivist. Akaashi also never knew how many different ways there were to translate a single word until he met you. And once he did, he realized that his eyes would follow you across the office as you ran around and spoke to other editors, helping them furnish their translations so that they flowed properly.

“Tenma, isn’t he meant to be out of the rotation for this panel?” Akaashi couldn’t help but grimace when faced with the utter despair that had pulled on Udai’s typically eased expression. The panel itself was masterfully drawn, taking up two pages and showing off Udai’s immense talent in drawing expressions and anatomy.

“I spent 8 hours on that, only to find out that it needs to be scrapped. What has my life come to?”

The yellow office lights made both of the men’s hair give off a green tinge and made their faces look sickly. Udai frowned as he pushed his chair back and let his chin sit on the table of the small meeting room. His hair curled around his fingers as they gently tugged on the ends of the wavy black stands, straightening them only to let them go and have them bounce back into place.

Akaashi flipped through the printed out pages of the chapter, letting the loose papers lay flat on the table. He pointed to the next pages. “These are fine though. They’re in the right rotation here, so not all is lost at least.”

Udai sighed, as he threw his weight back into the chair, making it spin with his momentum. “That’s all well and good, but I was really proud of that panel. It was going to be the attention grabber.”

Akaashi pursed his lips gently, flipping through the pages once more before tucking them into the pale yellow folder and closing it. Udai’s new story was in its beginning stages, only having a sample chapter that would be published in the following week’s magazine, that is if they got it done in time.

“It needs to be perfect. I can’t have this not work and starve for the rest of my life.”

Akaashi opened his mouth slightly, taking in a deep breath, ready to spout out his words of encouragement for his colleague when there was a knock on the door followed by the soft creaking of the hinges as it opened.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I just wanted to ask Udai about some of the uh… what’s the word? Dang, I’m supposed to know Japanese, it’s my job. The— I give up. Help?”

Udai chuckled and waved you over to take the seat opposite him, you shook your head and bowed slightly as your hand raised, saying you were alright, not needing the chair. Leaning down slightly you pointed at the ruff sketch copy in your hand where your current author’s handwriting seemed to over the edges of the text bubble slightly.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but how in the hell am I supposed to translate ‘paisen’?”

The innocent question seemed to brighten Udai’s mood much more than Akaashi’s monotone words of support would have. The older man launched backwards, nearly flinging himself off the chair, in a fit of laughter. His hands gripped the shirt he wore above his stomach and chest as they tried to ease the laughing pains.

Akaashi chuckled at the sight before looking at your somewhat regretful expression, you were probably too used to your co-workers laughing at your in-fluency at Japanese. “You can probably substitute a familiar nickname or a joking reference of respect.”

You sighed and brushed your hand over the back of your neck, “I swear, Himari had the intent to torture me with this last chapter. Thank you, Akaashi.”

Finally calmed from his fit of giggles, Udai sat straight in his chair and sent you a gracious smile. “Well, at least when you join our team I won’t torture you as much.”

You gave Udai and Akaashi a teasing smirk as you reached for the door handle. “I’m not so sure about that,” you said. “Besides, you need to get the attention of the readers before I join your team. No point in translating a comic that doesn’t even get off the ground right?”

You sent them a wink and the door closed behind you with a quiet click.

“Was that a challenge?”

“I believe so,” Akaashi said, handing Udai a blank sheet of paper. “Looks like we have some work to do.”

The office was, as it was the day before, and the day before that, calm. Udai sat in a small isolated office on his own with a naturally coloured lamp hanging over his hunched figure. The rest of his team, including Akaashi and now you as well, sat outside his door in a row of cubicles that led up to a large window that took up the entirety of the wall. In the corner cubicle, pressed against the window and directly across from him, you sat, typing away on your computer as you translated the Japanese text into Wild Words fonted English.

“Akaashi, is the end of chapter ready to translate?” Your head peeked over the frosted cubicle wall, a small smile pulling at the corner of your lips and the corner of your eyes pinching together. Akaashi’s gaze fluttered around.

“Ah, Ya the edits are done so you can finish translating it now.”

The smile you wore only seemed to grow, making Akaashi want to turn away and stare at the same time. The sun’s light contrasted with the dull rectangular lights in the office, making your skin glow. Your fingers tightened on the top of the glass and your shoulders rose to your ears, you narrowly missed knocking over an owl keychain that hung on his side of the wall.

“Perfect,” you said. “I’ll get them done now.”

The day continued like this, everyone working and occasionally calling out to each other through their cubed walls, possibly getting a twirling pen in the forehead followed by a meek apology (coming from you). Every time you spoke to someone you would rise out of your seat to make eye contact with them, refusing to continue speaking otherwise, and even though he wasn’t the person you always spoke to, each time your head began to poke out of your squared corner Akaashi couldn’t help but turn his attention your way, watching as the sun's light danced around you. It didn’t come to a surprise when, like every instance before, Akaashi looked up when you shot up from your seat. Only this time there was a frantic look plastered unevenly on your face, one that the warm light didn’t compliment.

“Please tell me my clock is wrong and that it’s not 4 pm.”

Chiyo leaned back in her chair, setting down her Cintiq’s pen and flipped the watch on her wrist so that the face faced her. “Yup, it’s actually 4:15.”

Akaashi was surprised to hear a not so work friendly English curse leave your lips as you rushed to save files on your computer while simultaneously packing your purse. You continued to swear as you ran out of your cubicle and toward the elevators with a quick “goodbye” being thrown over your shoulder. The office was quiet.

“Does that happen often?” Ena asked as he pulled off his glasses.

The group of artists and their editor sat in stunned silence for a few moments, minds racing over where the young translator had scurried off to. In their collaborative confusion, the team slowly went back to their respective jobs.

Himari came around the corner of the office, coffee in hand, as she chatted with her editor, who was nursing his own mug. The writer looked up for her conversation to see Udai’s team and gave them a polite nod. They were going to meekly return to their work when Himari paused her steps and looked at the empty plush chair that sat rotated and untucked in your cubicle.

“Oh, did (Y/N) leave?” to Akaashi’s surprise, Himari was not.

“Does she do that often?” he asked, setting down his pen on the counter of his desk.

Himari nodded, smiling, “Oh ya, sometimes she gets lucky and her friend can handle it but a lot of the time she has to run out of here by 3.” Akaashi’s brow furrowed slightly as Himari took a sip of her coffee before continuing waving her hand by her head, “Don’t worry too much about it though, she always comes in early to get her work done.”

Before they could question further, Himari was off with her editor sending them a knowing smile.

When the end of the workday rolled around, only 45 minutes after your quick departure, Akaashi found his eyes trailing back to his phone that sat at the corner of his desk on top of a stack of papers. Keeping watch on his phone, he swung his bag over his shoulder and shut off his computer. The device remained silent as the team began to pile out of their seats, toward the elevators and in a fit of contemplation, he reached for the phone.

Your response was quick and vague; Family thing, happens often. I’ll tell you later. See you tomorrow!

After the sample comic was released, Udai was thrown when he received an immense amount of interest for his characters and story, and he was even more excited when he received word from the magazine’s publishers that they wanted him to continue with the path he was on. The months building up to this moment were filled with constant plot revisions, reference excursions, and interviews until they came to a conclusive framework of the story, and continued introductions as new members were added to their original duo to make the workload less hefty.

Today though was the day that the story’s first chapter would finally be released to the public.

Akaashi tracked into the office, heading to the lounge to grab a coffee before coming up to his cubicle against the window and setting his bag down, immediately heading to the lounge. 8:40 in the morning, 20 minutes before the expected time of arrival, Akaashi, back at his desk, was just about to take a sip of coffee when a small snore overlapped the sound of the air conditioners, creating a dishonest harmony.

On the other side of the frosted glass wall of the cubicle was you, head resting on the black mouse pad that had a small plush cushion for your wrist. Akaashi quickly rounded the desks, coming to our side to gently rouse you from your slumber before your co-workers arrived. He was to wake you up gently with a hand on your shoulder, that was the plan. The plan changed when he noticed the small picture frame on your desk, surrounded by various action figures and Funko pops.

With one hand on your shoulder and the other holding the fame, he studied the photo with a kind gaze. He was so enthralled with the image that he forgot that below his other hand, was you.

“He’s cute ain’t he?” you asked, startling the editor back to his current reality as you stretched, arching your back like a cat. Akaashi’s attention was brought back to the current situation as you reached out for another frame in the opposite corner of your desk. “His name is Naoko. Here, this photo is newer.”

The young boy in the new photo looked like you a lot, more so than the previous one where he was just an infant that carried more resemblance to a potato than a human. Akaashi, without taking his eyes off the pictures, pulled the chair out from under Ena’s desk and sat next to you. He didn’t say anything, deciding just to admire the photos he held and letting you decide whether or not he should have the pleasure of hearing a story.

You sighed and yawned, leaning over the armrest of your chair so you would see them too. “He’s six, really quiet. I moved here when I found out. Hardly even out of university, and I was already pregnant with some strangers kid,” you laughed, making Akaashi stare at your features for a moment, wanting to point out which ones could be found on the boy.

“Is he the reason you moved to Japan?” Akaashi was a little taken aback by your willingness to talk, but in hindsight, you didn’t seem like the person to keep secrets, often rattling with your co-workers about your interests. Thinking back, maybe he should have expected something like this, Himari seemed to have known after working with you for several years, happily dancing around the topic of your personal life with your new coworkers when your sudden departure was questioned.

You shrugged, “not entirely, but he sure was a good excuse. I had plans to move to Japan for years before I even got into university. When I found out, I was sort of… uh. English…. Fuck, I need a job. So I applied to be an intern here, moved in with a friend I met online and prepared to have a baby.” Your arms flew about as you talked.

“You act as though it was easy,” Akaashi laughed, placing the frames back onto the table.

You let out a happy chuckle and spun your chair to face Akaashi head-on, eyes not leaving his, “I wouldn’t say it was easy, per se, but I’m happy with how things turned out.” you yawned a bit, “I should also apologize for running out of the office early sometimes, I have to pick Naoko up from school so —”

“You don’t have to apologize for that.” The gentle smile he wore was contagious.

It was 8:50 when the rest of the team came in. Immediately catching sight of Ena, Akaashi pulled away from your side, rolling the chair back to its respective location. He heard a breathy laugh escape you as he scurried around the desks to return to his designated spot across from you, cardigan flailing about.

The rest of your team piled into their seats sending the two of you waves and morning greetings. Ena nearly dropped his ‘don’t talk to me till I’ve had my coffee’ mug as he tripped over his rubber slides just before reaching his desk next to yours.

Sending your friends a smile you quickly slid back into your cubicle to re-adjust the frames on your desk with a yawn. Akaashi gave you a nod when you looked up to his stiff, still standing, form. You made his heart feel much weaker than he’d like to admit and without saying another word, he picked up the forgotten mug filled with brown liquid and handed it over the glass, into your hands.

Naoko was much more reserved than Akaashi expected, definitely a contrast to your more hyper personality. He spent most of the day sitting in the corner behind your cubicle where a table was set up next to a row of cabinets. What the boy was doing, Akaashi wasn’t entirely sure, but there was a small tickle at that back of his brain that made him want to find out.

When you had come in that morning, the group was surprised to see the small boy trailing behind you, holding onto your hand tightly with the both of his. “PD day,” you said. Udai spent the first few minutes of the day gushing over the boy’s cheeks instead of working, only to end up being backtracked and having to cram into his lunch break. Akaashi would be lying if he said he wasn’t thankful for that though.

“What do you have there?” he asked, taking a seat next to the boy and setting down his lunch next to the younger’s bento box.

Naoko curled in on himself, bringing the phone (that was most definitely yours) to his chest. The boy’s knees had pulled up to his shoulders as his feet pushed on the edge of the chair. Akaashi sent the young boy a kind smile and waited. From the corner of his eye, he could see your chair turn around as you took in the sight of your son and co-worker. He watched as you began making large swinging motions with your arms. Akaashi tried not to laugh.

Whatever had been playing on the phone hadn’t been paused in the short time given to do so, making the familiar sound ring quietly around the two of them.

Akaashi looked back your way for a moment, only to see you tilt your head up in a supporting nudge and turn back around.

“Are you watching a volleyball game?” he asked, rousing a more positive reaction from the boy.

Naoko’s shoulders lowered and he slowly placed the phone down between them. As Akaashi had concluded, a volleyball game played on the small screen. He put forward another question.

“Do you like to play?”

The six-year-old shrugged but nodded before scooting his chair in closer and reaching for his food. Akaashi mirrored him, slipping off his collared cardigan and pulling his lunch closer, still watching the game.

“I used to play volleyball.” This caught the boy’s attention, who turned his head to look at Akaashi, brows raised and lips pursed. “I was a setter.”

Naoko swallowed his food and for the first time, Akaashi got to hear him speak.

“I like playing setter too.”

His voice was rather meek and had a sort of authority to it, but the biggest thing he noticed made him stifle a laugh.

“Hey, (Y/N),” he called gently, making you spin your chair around in question. “Why is Naoko better at Japanese then you?”

“Hey! That’s mean!”

Naoko began to wiggle in his seat, desperately trying not to laugh at his mother’s, your, irritation. You shot a look at your son and gasped.

“Don’t you start laughing at me. I speak English better than you do.”

“You don’t need to speak English in Japan, mom.”

Kaashi continued to choke on his laugher as you pushed the palm of your hand into your forehead. “I’m being teased by my own son,” you cried quietly, turning your chair back around to face the unedited pages.

Naoko giggled and looked back Akaashi’s way. “Can you teach me?”

Akaashi didn’t see you still in your chair, listening.

“Of course I can.”

“Udai, seriously? You promised that you weren’t going to use weird industry term slang stuff on me.”

With a wide-eyed look and hair messily tied back, the man in question rotated his chair around childishly. “I never promised. I just said I'd go easier on you.” It was infuriating really.

With a pitiful whine, you shook the rough script in your hand making an angry fluttering sound. “You’re so mean Tenma. You know that I have trouble with slang.”

Udai only laughed and waved you off, “It’s a good way to learn is it not?”

You rolled your eyes but relented, giving a wave and closing the door. Once at your seat Akaashi poked his head out, eyes visible over the top of his square-framed glasses.

“He did it again?”

“Ya,” you huffed. “I can’t blame him though. It’s just frustrating that I can’t remember what a lot of the words mean. I should buy a dictionary.” Akaashi watched as you turned your monitor on. “Oh, um, Naoko was asking about you the other day.”

“Really?”

Your hands came together behind your neck, pulling your head down bashfully. “Ya, he’s been wanting to show you how he’s doing and maybe get the chance to learn a bit from you.”

Akaashi gave you a kind smile, so small that it didn’t even crease his cheeks, and nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

Your cheeks warmed as you beamed up at him before turning your head down towards your computer screen. Akaashi took a second to appreciate how the cool light from the overcast sky made you look. It was silent in the office for a moment. Just a moment.

“Udai! Another one?!”

In theory, so long as you have space above your head, you can play volleyball anywhere. Your apartment wasn’t ‘anywhere’.

The three-bedroom living space was built as housing and not an Olympic arena, and after breaking one too many of your glasses playing around, it was made clear to you, Naoko, and your sport junky roommate, that volleyball shouldn’t be allowed in the house.

“You guys can go play volleyball with Akaashi at the park, no?” Yukie asked, grabbing an onigiri of the large plate on your kitchen counter and stuffing it in her face. You made a large dinner that day, only to have your friend eat most of it, instead of leaving leftovers for Naoko’s lunch. Not that he complained about it, you sure did though.

Taking Yukie’s words to heart, when the weekend rolled around and Naoko was becoming more anxious, you invited Akaashi to your neighbourhood park to play volleyball.

“Open your elbows a bit more, make a triangle with your hand, and when the ball comes just cushion it with your fingertips before sending it out, okay?”

Naoko nodded, staring at his hands that were being moved around by the older player. Akaashi’s form was kneeled by the boy’s side, his head nearly resting on the younger's shoulder as he tried to make sure he was in the right position.

“Alright,” he said, grabbing the smaller than average volleyball off of the grass. “I’m gonna toss this to you, do you think you can get it to hit my hand right up here?”

Naoko nodded again, eagerly waiting for the blue and yellow ball to come flying his way. You watched silently from the park bench as Naoko tried (and often failed) to get the ball to touch Akaashi’s hand accurately.

“Almost there, you got this Naoko!” Akaashi encouraged.

Earnestly waiting to see the next move, you sat forward in your seat, watching as that ball made a tall arch towards Naoko’s waiting palms. As the ball made contact with his fingertips, he bent his elbows and wrists before shooting them out into a straight line, sending into the palm of Akaashi’s hand before dropping back onto the grassy field.

Your son, as most six-year-olds do when accomplishing something, shrieked. He shrieked very loudly before sprinting directly into Akaashi’s stomach to give him a (breath-stealing) hug. Akaashi coughed as he tried to get air back into his depleted lungs. From the side you giggled, watching as Naoko’s smile grew, head buried into Akaashi’s stomach.

It became standard, going out to the park during your off days. And this day, like the weekends that have come before, the routine of going to the park, ball in hand, continued. But after spending an hour or so watching the familiar movement of the yellow and blue ball fly through the air, Naoko interrupted the serene setting with a loud request.

“Mama! Mom! Can we go get onigiri?”

Looking up from resting your neck on the back of the bench to turn your gaze onto the energetic boy that was hopping around on the grass. “I’m okay with that, but you should probably ask Akaashi along. We don't want to leave him at the park do we?” you teased, picking up your bag and walking toward the two.

Naoko spun again to look at Akaashi, whose hands were now tucked into his jeans pockets. “Please!” he wailed. “Come with us! Please, please, please, please, please!”

Akaashi let out a hearty laugh. “Calm down, I’ll join you.” without saying another word, Akaashi offered his hand out, letting Naoko clutch it eagerly.

“Udai are you sure it’s okay to bring Naoko along? This is meant to be a work trip and I’d hate for him to dis… dic… get in the way,” you gave up at the end, sighing over your tripping words.

Udai gave Naoko, who had been clinging to Akaashi’s arm since all of you had met outside the city gymnasium, a pat on the head. “It’s alright. Besides, he’ll probably be a great resource.”

You nodded and watched as Naoko rattled to Akaashi about his school team and new things they had been practicing. You pouted. Upon their arrival, Ena, Chiyo and the others immediately began teasing you for effectively losing your son’s favour, which didn’t make your whining any less audible. On top of that, the group of artists found your sullen look to be a perfect reference, taking their cameras out.

“Keiji,” you cried, following behind the rest of the group as they waltzed through the gym entrance along with the crowd. “You’ve stolen my son.”

Akaashi paused for a moment, taking in a calm breath before looking over his shoulder. “He’s your son, I can’t steal that from you.”

Naoko threw a large smile over his shoulder, making your dragging steps falter.

When did it change? The expression on his face. When did it become so happy? Did he not smile before?

You picked up your pace, brows furrowed as you watched your son chatter happily.

When did he start speaking so much? Since when did he have so much to say? Was it something new in his diet? Or maybe the new friends on his volleyball team?

You found your gaze shifting to the hand that held his. Without thinking about it too hard, you quickened your steps to come up to Naoko’s other side. Your heart pounded as you held your closest hand out for him to grab hold of. When he finally did, immediately looking forward to dragging the two adults with him, the smile you gave Akaashi was the largest he’s ever seen coming from you.

You looked back at all of your interconnecting hands fondly.

When did he become another person’s son?

I tried going a bit of a different direction with this one in comparison to most Single Parent aus. I’ll admit it could have more meat to it, but oh well, things to improve on.

Question:

Do you prefer weekly one-shots that are shorter in length (like we’re doing) or longer ones with bigger plots and inconsistent updates (Sort of like “Catch Me If You Can” and “Ready Aim FIre” but longer)?

- Bacon

Posted: 31/07/2020

#haikyuu x reader #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #Haikyuu #x reader #oneshot #oneshots #haikyuu oneshots #haikyuu reader insert #reader insert #aus #haikyuu aus #fluff #haikyu #anime x reader #anime #manga x reader #manga

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stayforya · 4 years

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AIRPLANE | JUNG HOSEOK

member: jung hoseok

genre: fluff!au

words: 5.0k

summary: how many hours in a plane are enough for someone to become special in your life?

a/n: hey, guys, while writing this I got inspired by a book I once read called “the statistical probability of love at first sight”, by jennifer e. smith, so I’m leaving this here as a recommendation :)

you were nervous

it was a huge paradox: you love to travel, but getting on a plane is not the best experience

since you were excited and nervous, you arrived at the airport two hours before your flight

of course, because of that, you had absolutely nothing to do unless scroll through your phone and wait

the trip was happening because you got fired, let’s be real here

the money you saved was enough to do something you always wanted: go far away and spend a couple weeks getting to know a completely different place

you were exhausted

not only because you got fired, though

but mainly because you worked so hard during last year, taking the job for granted

and you had no idea what to do next

that’s why travelling was a great idea

you found flight tickets for a nice price and you just clicked the “buy” button, without a second thought

when you heard the calling for your flight, you got up quickly and got ready

chills down the spine

ok, you don’t have to be so nervous, you tried to convince yourself

thankfully the process was fast

you had no time to think because when you blinked you were already in the plane

“excuse me, miss”, the flight attendant caught your attention

“yes?”

“good news. you just got an upgrade to the business class!”, she smiled

you couldn’t smile

it was quite confusing

“huh, I’m sorry?”

she showed you a sweet smile

“please, follow me”

you just did what she said

she led you through another door and there you were

the business class!

the flight attendant was clearly happier than you

you were still confused

“what are the odds...?”, you meant to ask yourself but it came out loud

“oh, it happens more than you think. here is your seat, miss”, she said, “feel free to call us if you need anything”

“thank you so much”, you answered, trying to assimilate what was happening

there was a menu with so many types of food and drinks and you had to pre-order your main meals

there was even a hot wet towel? nice

you started to touch the buttons to see what they did

the seat became a bed and you were impressed

you only saw it in movies, not in real life

ok, but what were the odds?

you saved so much money by buying a ticket to the economy class

and you ended up in the business class

while trying to put your seat back to normal, someone sat by your side

the same flight assistant brought him with the same bright smile she gave you

“thank you”, you heard him saying

you didn’t mean to look but you did

oh you should have lifted the panel that gives privacy for both of the passengers before

now he would notice

you didn’t know if it was ok to just do it

is it rude to hide yourself right when the flight buddy sits?

no, you should wait a bit

he didn’t say hi or anything but you were kind of watching his moves

he sat there, took his phone, read something

from that angle you couldn’t see his face that much because he would definitely notice you were looking at him

but come on what else would you had to do?

oh, watch a movie, yeah

suddenly someone brought you a champagne glass out of nowhere

you never drank champagne in the middle of the morning before

but when you drank the last drop, the first bad part of flying started

the flight was taking off

you were trembling

you left the glass by your side, otherwise you’d drop it

the guy by your side noticed you trying to do some breathing exercises

inhale, exhale

you closed your eyes

inhale, exhale

it didn’t take too long, though

and when the plane was plan in the air

you opened your eyes and the guy by your side was staring at you

a little bit surprised? or worried? or maybe thinking “what is this crazy girl doing?”

your eyes met his and you felt your cheeks burning

“sorry, are you okay?”, he asked you

his voice

hm how to describe it?

he was a little bit worried

your heart was yet racing because of the take off instability

the bad parts of flying, for you, were always the take off time and the turbulence

“yes, yes, I’m fine, thank you”

he didn’t believe, though

probably because your face said it all

whenever you felt scared, it was like your soul came out your body and your face was blank

no sign of life

“are you sure?”, he was really worried

“thank you”, you didn’t answer ‘yes’

trying to come back to normal, you just drank the rest of champagne at once

“it’s just that”, you started speaking and he immediately payed attention, “I like travelling but the flight is always scary”

you smiled to break the ice

he also smiled and that definitely broke the ice

“do you travel a lot?”, he opened a bottle of water and looked at you

“I wish”

“it’s fun, but nothing like coming back home”

“so you travel a lot”, you assumed

now that the conversation started, you were interested in talking

plus, it was distracting you

and the rest of the people were using earphones so you both probably weren’t disturbing anyone

he shrugged

“working, yes. for fun, not always”

“and this time, is it for fun?”

the corner of his lips lifted

“yeah”, he looked down

you didn’t know what else to say so you just looked anywhere else

“actually my sister is getting married”

it was meant to be a quick chat, now you were starting to listen about his family

and the best part: you were interested

“tomorrow?”

“yeah, I guess I’ll arrive a few hours before the wedding”

“wow, just in time, right?”, you said

he agreed

“and you?”

“me?”

“is there any special reason why you’re flying for so many hours?”

“hm... is ‘having fun while I can after I got fired’ a good reason?”

he got surprised

“yes, of course. you’re making a good thing out of a bad thing”

“trying to”

“you’ll like it there. will it be your first time in south korea?”

you nodded, “I want to visit some other countries while I’m in asia. any tips?”

“oh, I actually have a lot. do you really wanna listen?”

you looked at the hour on the screen in front of you

“I guess I have time”

he was really into it

he traveled a lot in his life

and you were amazed by that

most of his trips happened because he needed to work

but he had so many tips about the countries you were planning to visit that you were sure he also had a lot of fun (at least in your standards)

you spent almost an hour talking

he was actually a fun person

easygoing

you were sure he was the kind of person that would never be a square peg

he must fit everywhere because he has stories

he was captivating

and passionate about what he was talking about

when you asked him anything or made fun of something, he listened and laughed

maybe he was around your age? a little older?

you didn’t know and asking that would be weird

but he was young and free, you could see that

you two only stopped talking when the food arrived

it was already lunch time

and you were actually hungry

“oh this looks amazing”, you were thinking out loud

“I agree”

“lucky me for this upgrade”

he looked at you confused

you explained

“I wasn’t meant to be here, the flight attendant told me I got this upgrade. apparently it happens often”

“really? that’s really lucky. lucky us”, he laughed, joking

lucky us

what

you started laughing

cause you finally got it

what are the odds of you getting an upgrade and ending up sitting by this guy’s side and having company during the flight AND collecting so many tips for you travel

amazing

you ate in silence and after finishing you felt awkward

were you supposed to start talking again or was the conversation over?

you’d have to come up with a subject

not that you didn’t have, since you had a lot to ask him

but you just sat there and looking for a movie to watch

someone brought the dessert

and it was delicious

you thanked heavens again for the opportunity

“what are you watching?”, he asked, leaving the phone behind

“hm? oh, anything fun. do you have any recommendation?”

“none. you?”

“about to find out”

he started searching for movies in the list on his screen

and you two somehow decided to watch inside out

you didn’t want to recommend it because you thought it would sound a little bit childish

but it didn’t

and you started watching, not saying anything

you tried to glance at him

and he was literally s l e e p i n g

the movie barely started

guess what

he slept during the whole movie

and you weren’t in the mood for a nap

so you finished it fully

after a few hours he woke up

“good morning”, you were joking

“what”

“just kidding. it’s still 4pm”

“oh I slept for three hours?”

“I think so”

he started moving slowly

“I’m just tired, I swear I like this movie”

you giggled

“chocolate?”, you handed him your chocolate bar

he took it, his fingers touching yours slightly, and ate a piece

you didn’t want to be weird

but uh

it was the first physical contact you two had

as if it mattered

but still

ANYWAYS

“this one’s good”

then your hand trembled

not because you were feeling like

but because the whole plane was trembling

come on, come oooooon

a turbulence at this time?

come. on.

it was supposed to be your lucky day, wasn’t it

you couldn’t help but shrink your whole body on the chair

closing your eyes

you heard someone saying something

you also heard the voice of the boy by your side

but you couldn’t understand

you were talking to yourself in your mind to focus on something else

because the plane was shaking by the way

the only thing you could think of was

you were about to die

“hey, hey”, the voice was closer now

it was louder than your thoughts because it was close

“it’s fine, look at me”

you opened your eyes slowly

the plane still unstable

people were already getting a little bit scared

it was an instability point, as you heard from the speakers

but there was the guy

“it’s not fine”, you said

“trust me, it is. look. we’re almost arriving”

“you’re lying, there are still many hours to go”

“but we’re closer now. just a few hours to go”

then you realized

the turbulence ended

you just didn’t notice when

but there you were

face to face with that guy

like WHAT

a safe distance would be nice?

so things wouldn’t get awkward

but he wasn’t awkward at all, he was okay

“thank you for this”, you said, breathing properly, “do you want a chocolate bar as reward?”

he smiled, accepting it

you didn’t have the courage to face him

because after thinking again about your little outbreak

you thought you overreacted

but actually

you just couldn’t contain yourself

you ate in complete silence and even thought about closing the privacy panel

but would it be weird now after so many hours of conversation?

you just ate and started sleeping

it was just a nap

so you woke up one hour and a half later, maybe?

the first thing you saw was the little screen showing the map

and you were almost arriving

two hours to go

and you’d finally be in your destination

you put your hand on your head and feel your hair

messyyyy

wth

you tied it again

“oh hi”

you looked at him immediately

you kinda forgot he was still there

your mind was still kinda sleepy

he was lying there while watching inside out

“oh, now you’re watching it”, you said

“I felt bad to leave you watching by yourself”

you wanted to laugh, but he had a sweet expression on

and you were like

trying to understand what was going on

and then

out of nowhere

your heart was pounding a bit faster

“look at you”, you giggled and stopped looking at him to start paying attention to the screen

since it was night already

it was dark, thankfully

“you know what I was thinking”, he started

and your heart was hammering again

“I didn’t even ask your name”, he finished

the way he said every single phrase

was so gentle, like

you could tell he was nice to every single person he met in life

it was his personality and you got to notice it just by knowing him for hours

“y/n”

“I’m hoseok”

“hoseok”, you repeated

“hoseok”, he repeated

and it was awkward but funny at the same time

you two laughed

“so, did you like the movie?”

“yeah, it actually hit me deeper than I thought”

you nodded, “that’s what I love about animations”

“we should watch another one”

“hm, but do we have enough time?”

he looked at the screen

less than two hours

“well...”, he looked disappointed

“tell me what else you like to do”, you asked out of nowhere

since using the last hours just to watch a movie wasn’t an option

you wanted to get to know him

so your whole lucky day story would be complete

getting an upgrade, eating well during the whole flight, arriving at your destination and meeting a nice stranger

“I like to talk to strangers”, he answered, already smiling

there was something about his smile

his eyes turned into ^^

and all his face became bright

from the gentle smile to the loud laugh

“come on, I already know this”

“but”, he lifted his index finger, “this is the first time I actually click with a stranger”

you looked at him for a moment

“oh, thank you, now I feel special”

he giggled and you couldn’t help but do the same

“and what about you?”

“what? if I also click with strangers?”

“no”, he laughed, “what else do you like to do?”

“I like to travel, but I couldn’t do it for a long time”

“because of work?”, he payed attention

“yeah. I liked my job a lot, but I was becoming a workaholic, you know? and even though I was very sad about being fired, it felt like a sign. as if it was time to risk something”

he was still looking at you while you spoke your mind freely

“you sound courageous”, he said

you wanted to laugh out loud

“I may sound like this, but I’m not. come on, I was about to cry over a turbulence”

“I have to agree with the last part, but”, he paused, “I’m talking about the way turned a bad thing into a good thing”

you shrugged, “I hadn’t noticed this”

“you know, I...”, he paused, thinking, “while you’re in korea, we could meet. I mean, I could be a travel guide”

he sounded shy for the first time

“do you live in seoul?”

“I do”, he answered

“then, of course we can meet! I mean, I know no one in this country. expect for you now”

he smiled, not looking at you

you also didn’t look at him, not knowing what to say

there were actually many questions you’d like to ask

but it’s complicated when you’re in this level

you’re not a stranger, but still a stranger

you’re not the curious type of person

but there was something about hoseok that made you curious

you wanted to know more about him

what are his interests

how is his relationship with his sister

does he like dogs or cats

what does he do for living, his job

does he like mint chocolate or does he think it tastes like toothpaste

who’s his favorite artist

what are his hobbies

and many other questions your mind created that you could ask at that moment but you weren’t close enough to make them

but did you need to be close enough to make them?

don’t people become closer by asking what they wanna know?

you looked at the screen and it was now focusing on south korea’s map, since you were almost arriving

hoseok was always about to say something, but he didn’t

he moved, drank water, coughed

maybe he noticed how absorbed in your own thoughts you were and he didn’t want to bother

would you see him again?

you ended up taking a nap and when you woke up you saw hoseok was also sleeping

he only woke up when the voice on the speakers said you should be ready for landing

the weird thing is that you couldn’t face him

because you had a dream

during the nap

????

and he was there

in your dream

was your mind tricking you or-

anyways

you focused on getting ready to leave and he did that too

when both of you were standing to get out

he said

“so, enjoy south korea”

you looked at him

“is the travel guide's proposal still up?”, you asked

nothing to lose, right?

he smiled, looking down and looking at you again

“definitely”, his hands took something out of his pocket, “here. save your number on my phone and I’ll call you”

he handed you the phone and you took it

carefully

putting your name and number on it

and making sure it was saved

the process at the airport is always tiring

after you got out of the plane, you didn’t see hoseok again

he walked to an opposite direction so you couldn’t say bye again

but yeah

you were pretty much excited about finally landing

after finding your suitcase, you needed to find your way home

it wasn’t that difficult

after you got internet, everything was easier

plus, south korea was amazing

technological and historical at the same time

you were excited about everything you could do

when you arrived at the place you were staying, the first thing you did was to take a shower

the flight was long

and the feeling was that the time rushed

because of time zone, the flight seemed longer than it actually was

as if the time flew by

thankfully you took some naps

you washed your hair

put on clean clothes

talked to friends through and family through the phone

and when you were about to go out to eat something and see the neighborhood, your phone rang

and rang

until you found it in your purse and saw the unknown number

“hello?”, you answered, wondering who it could be

“y/n? oh, you gave me the right number”

he sounded relieved

it was hoseok, you recognized his voice

“why would I give you the wrong one?”, you smiled

“just in case I was dangerous”, he joked

“ok, maybe now I’m worried”

he laughed out loud

and it was contagious

“trust me, I’m nice”

“so, anything happened?”

you didn’t understand why he was already calling you

just three or four hours ago you two were together in the plane

“I can’t meet you today to show you around, you know, the travel guide’s proposal”

“that’s okay, I’ll do it by myself”

“but I have another proposal”

“hm?”, you stopped walking

what was he planning

ok, were you trusting this guy too much?

“don’t you wanna come to my sister’s wedding?”

you gasped

“a wedding?”

“the one I told you, remember? do you want to be my date?”

DATE????

date?

d a t e?

you started to hyperventilate

ok ok ok wait

think straight

what are the chances of hoseok being a bad guy who wants to kill you

no, he was so nice to you

he wouldn’t be a bad guy, would he?

“look, we just met”

“I know”

“and I don’t know anyone in the wedding”

“you know me”

“but your family”

“they told me to bring a date if I had one”

“what?”

“listen, y/n, I travel a lot and I’m finally spending a good time here at home, so they’re okay with anything. they just want to see me and I want to see them. I also want to bring you with me”

“what are your real plans, hoseok?”

you knew stuff about hoseok that you didn’t know about people from your previous job you used to see every single day

so maybe time wasn’t a big deal, right?

the hours you spent together were more useful than days with someone else

“just to continue the good time we’ve spent earlier”

you sighed

“I don’t think I have clothes...”

“anything is fine. you don’t have to be fancy”

“ok, I’ll just- ok”

“do you need anything?”

“I don’t think so”

“send me your location and I’ll find you in two hours”

“fine, I’ll keep the police on stand by”, you joked using a serious tone

he didn’t answer for a moment

“you know you don’t have to”

“see you, hoseok”

and you hung up on him

you laughed by yourself

probably because the situation was funny

but also because you were nervous

a wedding?

what kind of clothes did people use for weddings in korea?

you just googled ideas and with pinterest unconditional help it didn’t take that long to find a nice look on your clothes

lucky you for bringing versatile stuff for every kind of situation when traveling

you did it all by yourself

of course, in a couple hours hoseok would be by your door

so you tried your best on you hair and make up

and the final look wasn’t that bad, it was actually pretty fine

you were feeling good

when hoseok sent you a message

you went out to wait for him, who was already there

he was driving and you saw him from the window

his smile said it all

“hey”, you opened the door, getting in, “why are you smiling like this?”

“I don’t know, I just can’t believe you accepted my proposal”

“neither do I. I don’t usually go out with strangers”

he laughed

“I’m happy, then, cause I’m not a stranger anymore at this point”

you shrugged, agreeing

“you look very beautiful”, he said carefully, choosing the words and choosing the tone

you found that cute

“you too”

“so, you don’t have to be shy around everyone, okay?”

“it’s impossible, I don’t even know them”

“they know I’m bringing a date”

“be honest, when will you pay for my service?”

he looked at you surprised

you laughed at his face

when you arrived at the place, you were

1. happy for the clothes you chose, because you were just like the other people

2. amazed by the place

if people would dress as fancy as the place asked for, you’d feel horrible by your look

but thankfully they were all dressing just like you

elegant but not too much

you didn’t know if you should hold hoseok’s arm and he didn’t know if he should offer his arm

so you just held your purse and kept walking by his side

he was talking to you all the time, probably to make you feel comfortable

there was a room you two walked in

you didn’t know what that was

but as soon as you got in

your eyes were glowing by the beauty of the bride

she was sitting, some people congratulating her

there was also a woman and a man next to her

hoseok’s parents, maybe?

you were so embarrassed for being there not even knowing her or her future husband

she smiled at you two and hoseok rushed to hug them

he hugged his sister and said something that made her smile

and then hugged his parents

“you look gorgeous”, he said to his sister

“so this is my... close friend”

everyone in the room looked at you

“y/n, right?”, his sister asked and you got closer

did he tell everyone your name already?

well, she should know the name of everyone who would come

“yes, nice to meet you. congratulations on your wedding!”

“thank you. I’m glad you two are here. these are my mother and my father”

you greeted them too

your face was burning

you felt it getting hotter

because the bride was about to make her entrance, you and hoseok went to the main hall to find your places

he greeted some people here and there

and you were just trying to keep the smile on

the groom was standing, waiting for his bride

there was a long, long time since you had been on a wedding

it was good to see people celebrating love

you were a little bit hopeless about your own love life

but it was refreshing to see other couples in love

“are you okay?”, he asked

“yeah. your family is just like you”

“how?”, he was interested

“easygoing”

“thanks. I’m like this because of them”

you looked around

people were happy

and you were too

even not knowing everyone well

(except for hoseok)

it felt good to celebrate love

and when the bride walked in

beautiful

glowing

you saw hoseok’s eyes full of tears

tears of joy, you could tell

you just didn’t know what to do

but then

before even thinking

your hand reached his

and both of you

just like everyone else

watched her on the aisle, going to her future husband

and he was emotional too

the whole ceremony made you feel warm

your heart was so full by experiencing that moment that you didn’t even feel tired after that long flight

you were focusing only at the moment

hoseok didn’t let go of your hand after you touched his when he was emotional

and you were okay with that

but when the two of you stood up

it was awkward to keep holding it, so you just let go

and regretted immediately

the party was good

after all the important parts of the ceremony

it was food time and dance time

which were your favorite parts, to be honest

hoseok was making sure you eat well

but since you were sitting at the same table as his family

you were a little bit shy

but come on you were hungry

and they didn’t care at all, everyone was eating so well

you did the same and he smiled at you

patting your shoulder from behind the chair

his sister and her husband were the first ones from the table who stood up to dance

a lot of people were doing the same

so hoseok came closer to you and said

“wanna dance with me?”

you looked at his hand standing between you two

“don’t expect much”, you said

he smiled and carried you to the center of the hall

the song was slow and romantic

so you didn’t know what to do at first

touching him still made your fingers electrify

by the way he was so careful

you could say he felt the same

but then his arms found their way to your waist

and your arms found their way to his shoulders

those movements made you stay the closer since you met him

your faces could even touch depending on the dance move

hoseok danced naturally and you just followed his steps

you felt his smell

the one coming from the clothes and the one coming from the hair

you closed your eyes and rested your head on his

“lucky me”, he said, so softly you wouldn’t hear if his lips weren’t close to your face

you smiled

“crazy me”, you made him burst into laughter

you were starting to love his laugh to your stupid jokes

a few hours later, you were in front of your door

your home in seoul for the next days

the wedding started early, so it wasn’t too late when you two arrived in front of your place

but there weren’t many people walking around

the lights of the city illuminated you

he was leaning on the car

and you were in front of him

“thank you for this”, you said

“I’m glad you had fun”

“definitely not how I imagined my first day here, but 100% better than what I planned”

“sorry for not being able to show you around”

“I guess we still have some days to do this”

“are you free?”

“just call me whenever and we’ll meet”

he looked down after a smile appeared on his face

trying to hide it, but failing

“look, I don’t know the chances of us meeting on the same plane”

“if I didn’t get an update, I’d be there, but not by your side”

it was crazy to think how many possibilities exist

if you did one thing differently, you’d never meet someone

you’d never get the job

you’d never travel

you’d never live some experiences

the other possibilities could have happened

but they didn’t

what made that one happen?

how do we choose things not knowing where they’ll lead us

and they end up taking us to places we can’t imagine

all of these thoughts were going on your heads when you two were staring at each other

you weren’t smiling anymore

he walked to you

and you looked at him nonstop

until your hands were on his hands

and his lips on yours

slowly kissing

feeling the electricity of the touch

you knew that kissing him was a choice that would lead somewhere

you just didn’t know where

who knows?

when you stopped kissing

your noses still touching

looking at each other’s eyes

you two smiled

“was this your original plan when you called me?”

“no, but I’m plenty happy about that call”

you kissed him again

it felt even better

“so...”

you could feel his breath

you knew so much about him after all the conversations

and a lot yet to be known

“see you?”, you asked

“I’ll be waiting”

128 notes · View notes

lo-55 · 3 years

Text

Tilt The Hourglass ch. 6

Maul adjusted the small holster against his hip and pulled his cloak tighter around him.

He never would have pegged Fett as being a tailor, but the mando had pulled out a thread and scissors and hemmed the cloak to fit Maul. It fell until halfway down his thighs, where he had pants and boots now. They hadn’t had the time to get Maul a full flight suit or any armor, but he was clothed at last and his long sleeves even connected to finger-less gloves.

The dark cloak was pulled tight over his head. On his right hip was a small blaster, and in his new boot was a vibro-knife each. They weren’t lightsabers, but they would do.

He felt wrong to not have his ‘saber against his hip, especially when they boarded the ship. He could sense them as soon as he stepped on board. The bright light’s of two Jedi, two lights he knew well. Kenobi and Jinn.

He’d recognized Kenobi as soon as he’d seen him, hovering near the ship and looking like a convict about to be executed.

As soon as he saw him he knew he had to get on board that ship, with or without Jango.

This was Kenobi. Tiny, although a head taller than Maul himself, he was barely old enough to be out of their silly little temple. Maul needed to see him again.

Maul didn’t know what he was going to do when he saw him. He didn’t know if he was going to stab him or demand answers that Kenobi certainly wouldn’t have.

Like what had happened. Two years ago, a bit more now, Maul had died and woken again. Decades in the future Kenobi had cut him down and ended a rivalry that spanned a lifetime. Why? Maul hadn’t been able to find information on it. Not that he could risk looking very hard without tipping off his master, mind.

Still.

He still had a scar on his hand, one triangle and one square pointed into his palm. One sith holocron and one jedi. Their voices still echoed faintly in his memory.

Soon, he needed to take another trip to Malachor. Perhaps this time he could take Young Kenobi with him. The boy wasn't a sith. He didn’t have even the sliver of possibility for it that Ezra had possessed.

Maul had done his best to make Kenobi Fall, and each time he had failed. Even in the end, Kenobi hadn’t hated him. He’d offered him only kindness.

There was a reason that Maul had tried to get him to help him stop the rise of the Empire. The two of them were equally the best and worst examples of their respective orders. Between the both of them they could have kept Sidious from becoming emperor. True, Skywalker would have had to die, but Kenobi had lost his master, his lover, and Maul didn’t even know how many others. He would have survived losing his Padawan, if it was for the ‘greater good’ or whatever jedi preached.

He was a good person. Disgustingly so.

Malachor was a graveyard for Jedi as much as Sith. Maul could use that to convince him if he really had to.

Jango gestured to him to follow along.

Maul didn’t like deferring to anyone, but he would play along for now. It was better than Sidious.

If Maul had ever met someone worse than him he could not recall.

The pair boarded the ship just in time to see a young human being assaulted by a hutt, the creature’s fat fingers curled around his throat.

It took Maul a total of two seconds to realize who it was, and by that time Jango had already closed the distance between them and pulled his blaster. Jango levelled it at the hutt’s head.

“Let the boy go,” he ordered, his voice level. The Force was muffled through beskar, helmet’s especially, but Maul had spent time enough with Mandalorian’s that even with Jango’s helmet firmly in place he could still feel the anger that rippled through him.

Mando’s and their children.

“Hah? Why would I do that? We do not tolerate spies here! This is offworld terf, and we will-”

“Drop. The. Boy.”

The hutt eyed the blaster wearily before he tossed the body.

Right at Maul.

Maul caught him on instinct. The weight of Kenobi almost knocked him down, but Maul held firm. Had Kenobi always been so much taller than him?

Maul kept a weary eye on the hutt, and Jango, ready to draw his blaster and fire. He could take four of whiphids before they got within arms length, and Jango could take the rest in that same time.

The hutt cussed them out and made his leave, with the whiphids following along behind him.

Maul looked down and froze when he found burning blue eyes staring back up at him.

Young Kenobi was… not what he’d expected.

He was tiny, for one thing. Baby faced, with all the puppy fat of youth that Maul, even younger than him, had mostly lost by now. He was thin and gangly the way humans’ were when they were getting ready for a growth spurt, and his hair had never been so red in the future. The last time Maul had seen it it had been almost entirely white. Had he always had freckles?

Maul didn’t know what he’d expected to find in his rival, but what he found was a kid.

This was not the padawan that had cut Maul down. This was not the knight that had hunted him half across the galaxy. This was not the hermit that had held his dying body by fire light.

This was just-

Obi Wan.

Blue eyes rolled back in his head and Kenobi dropped in his arms.

Maul looked up to find Jango with his visor tilted towards the pair. He felt bemused. Maul frowned at him and swung Kenobi over his shoulder’s in a firemen’s carry.

“Shut up,” he snapped at the mandalorian.

“I didn’t say a thing.”

“You didn’t have to. You have a very expressive visor.”

Jango snorted at Maul’s blunt accusation.

“Perhaps I do. Let’s see if Clat’Ha has a place we can bunk down and check on your little friend there.”

“He is not my friend!”

Jango ignored him entirely and picked his way across the floor to the inside of the ship. There were panels missing and wires spilled out across the metal floors like the guts of a massive beast.

Maul mentally categorized all of the easy access points, vents, weapons, and potential ambush zones.

Finally they found Jango’s friend, the human woman in charge of the Arconan Mining Company. She took one look at Kenobi, still limp over Maul’s shoulders with a ring of bruises blossoming around his throat, and marched them into a small closet that served as a medical bay. Apparently mining was a dangerous occupation. Who knew?

Maul let her take Kenobi from him and lay the boy down on a hard cot before she found a bacta spray and some bandages. A medical droid floated near by and glued a cut on Kenobi’s brow shut.

“Are you alright?” Jango touched his shoulder. Maul twitched, but didn’t break the hold. He glanced up at the blank visor.

“Fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Worry emanate from Jango, amplified by their contact.

“It’s not always easy seeing other’s get hurt. Especially ade. Children.”

Maul squinted up at him. “People get hurt a lot around me,” he said slowly, like Jango was a particularly foolish child. “In case you forgot. I would have shot the hutt dead. Or hit him under his right arm. The third lung located there is close enough to the surface that the right pressure would rupture it and he would choke to death on his own blood. At least that young. An older hutt would be harder without a blaster. They’re very annoying.”

Clat’Ha stared at him over Kenobi’s body before she looked to Maul’s new ‘care taker’.

“...Jango what the fuck are you teaching this kid?”

Before Jango could even defend himself Maul wrinkled his nose at her.

“He’s barely had me two days.”

Maul hadn’t even learned that on Orsis. He’d learned that during his rise as a crime boss for the shadow collective, when he’d been forced to kill a few hutt’s to properly send a message.They would obey him or they would die. Maybe he should start building his criminal empire again.

There was an idea.

One for later. He needed resources he didn’t have yet, and Jango was as Mandalorian as they came. They wouldn't let a kid go easily. They would protect younglings with their lives if they had to.

In retrospect, Maul should have advised Kilindi and Daleen to seek them out. But Sidious might have ripped that information from his mind, so perhaps it was for the best that he didn’t.

Wherever they were he knew they were okay. Kilindi was resilient and Daleen was intelligent. Maul had faith in them.

That didn’t mean he didn’t worry about them, or miss them. They were his.

“Three,” Jango corrected mildly. “You were unconscious for the first one.”

“Ah, yeah.”

Somehow that only seemed to alarm Clat’Ha more.

What a strange woman.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Maul couldn't tell if he hated or loved this ship.

The ship itself was a hot mess, a wreck waiting to happen and it was probably older than everyone on it combined. It was dark in places where the wires needed replacing, and the whole thing was divided between two mining companies.

The entire thing was saturated with animosity and hostility, and Maul drank it in. He pulled the distrust and anger out of the air and wrapped it up in a little ball inside his chest for later. It was a technique he’d figured out himself years ago. How to skim off the top emotionally. Theoretically it could be used to take an enemies fighting spirit and enhance an allies, but Maul had never really tried to do that.

He preferred to enhance himself, and he was an assassin and a warlord more than a general. He fought on his own or in small groups in dark spaces, not in open fields with legions under his command.

His little trick on Mandalore was an exception.

Maul was even able to drink up the negative emotions that Jinn released into the Force. Irritation, worry, things that Maul hadn’t noticed when he had faced the man before. It was probably because the crew had misplaced a little jedi and everyone was in a tizzy.

Maul could have ended the confusion, but where was the fun in that?

Instead he sat with Kenobi.

The boy had somehow managed to develope a fever and Jango had insisted that he be watched at all times. He’d woken up while Clat’Ha was with him, and Maul was fetching lunch with Jango. Every Time they saw the hutt’s on board Maul had to physically stop himself from trying to kill the slugs.

Jango seemed to be able to tell how he felt, even though he was about as close to a Force Null as a man could be, and went out of his way to try and keep him from interacting with them. Outside of food runs it wasn’t hard. They were here for the Arconan Mineral Harvest Company, or whatever they were called, and that meant that they stuck to their side of the ship.

The jedi master, Jinn, was the same.

Maul couldn’t help but note that the ‘ever compassionate’ jedi didn’t show up to help Kenobi until his fever lowered the boys mental shields enough that his distress saturated the air in the room.

When Jinn walked in, Maul stayed perfectly still and watched him go to Kenobi. He lay a hand on the boys brows and did… Something.

Some jedi thing. Maul watched the fever start to fade and Kenobi’s eyes finally flickered open.

Blue. Fuzzy and somewhat delirious.

"H-how?" Kenobi’s voice was hoarse and rough. Maul had the distinct feeling that he was intruding on something here. Strangely, he didn’t care.

"Don't try to speak," Jinn said quietly, "You've had a bad fever, but I've taken care of it. Your wounds turned out to be worse than initially assumed."

Maul nearly gagged on the raw hope that floated off of Kenobi in response. "Is it really you?" he asked.

Qui Gon smiled, the first time Maul had seen such an expression on his face.

"Yes, it's really me."

“Did you come to look for me?” Obi-Wan asked hopefully. Maul nearly snorted. Well of course. This was his master, wasn’t it? Jedi always came for eachother. They were fools like that.

(a quiet voiced asked if he would not have gone after Kilindi and Daleen if he could have. If he was not himself intending on going to find Savage.)

Qui-Gon shook his head. “I‘m on my way to Bandomeer as well. I‘m on a mission for the Galactic Senate. Our missions have nothing to do with each other.”

“Still, we‘re together,” Obi-Wan insisted. His voice trembled with faint hope. “You could show me –”

But Qui-Gon shook his head.

“No, Obi-Wan, that‘s not why I‘m here. Our destinies lie along different paths. Now is the time for you to get to know the people that you will serve. You must forget about me. You must serve the Jedi in ways other than as a Knight. There is honor in that, too.”

He did not say it cruelly, but it was clear that Qui-Gon‘s words struck Obi-Wan like a blow. He tried to hide it, but his eyes were sad and his shoulders hunched.

Meanwhile, Maul was reeling.

Jinn was not Kenobi’s master? Was that why he didn’t have that silly little braid? And, more important, what did he mean Kenobi wouldn’t be a knight? That couldn't be possible! Kenobi was the best of their order, he was the first jedi to beat a sith in combat in centuries, and, at the risk of sounding arrogant, Maul was one of the best trained sith in generations. Sidious, and even his master had never gone out and tested themselves against actual Jedi the way Maul had. Even before his dual with Jinn he’d already begun his head count. He had more true combat experience than the both of them, and it infuriated him in ways he couldn't even begin to describe that he still lost to Sidious.

How could Kenobi not be a knight? It didn’t make sense.

Was this how it had happened before? Or had Maul and Jango’s presence somehow changed Kenobi’s padawanship?

Maul hadn’t done much to change the events of the world besides try to stop the massacre at Galidraan. Besides that he had only been at Orsis, and then Mustafar.

Maul, barely more than a shadow pressed into the corner of the wall, watched numbly while an arconan shyly made his way into the room and introduced himself to Kenobi. Apparently word travelled fast on the ship, and the arconan miner’s had decided that Obi Wan was as much a hero as Maul and Jango for stranding up to the Hutts.

Not that Kenobi had done much besides get strangled and struck. He even said as much.

“Well, sit down and introduce yourself,” Obi-Wan said at last, waving the Arconan closer.. “In this

place, I need all the friends I can get.”

“It seems you are in luck, then,” Jinn said with a mild nod towards Maul. Kenobi’s head whipped around, apparently seeing Maul for the first time. Yellow eyes met blue evenly. He would not look away from this boy. Kenobi looked away first, to the arconan.

“Our name is Si Treemba,” the Arconan said, perching on a chair. The room was getting crowded. “We know yours is Obi-Wan Kenobi. We would be honored to be your friend.”

When attention turned to him again, he said simply, “Maul.”

Maul could see the question on Kenobi’s lips, but he didn’t get to ask it. The door to sickbay slid open. Clat‘Ha strode in with an impatient expression, and Jango at her side. He made quite the impression. Jinn’s shoulders tightened and his hand drifted closer to the lightsaber at his hip. .

“Good, you‘re here,” she said to Si Treemba, who scrambled to his feet.

Clat’Ha turned to Jinn grimly. “We have a problem,” she said crisply. “Someone has been tampering with our equipment. Young Si Treemba here discovered it on a routine inspection. We have three Arconan tunneling machines in stock, and all three have been sabotaged.”

“How so?” Qui-Gon asked.

Si Treemba stepped forward. “The thermocoms that monitor the tunnelers‘ hull temperature have been removed, sir. And the coring couplers have been rigged so that they will not disengage.”

Maul didn’t know mining equipment well, but he recognized most of the words. Thermocoms were used on certain stealth ships entering high density atmosphere’s to avoid blowing up when coming in quick and fast. If the ships overheated they would blow. He imagined that the drills did the same thing.

Then a hutt arrived, and the whole situation turned into a not-so-passive-aggresive show down between Jinn, the Hutts, Clat’Ha and Jango.

Maul watched it with growing irritation. All their problems would be solved if someone would just kill the hutt. He was guilty and everyone knew it.

But the jedi wouldn’t do such a thing.

Maul rolled his eyes when all that came of the argument was hot tempers and bland accusations of specism. Clat’Ha ran off to find her miner’s, with Jango in tow. He shot Maul a look that clearly said ‘stay out of trouble’. One Maul promptly ignored.

Qui-Gon shook his head sadly.

“There is a strong hatred between those two. Neither of them will listen.”

Listen to what? Maul rolled his eyes under his hood. The hutt was crooked and after power and the human was probably little better. A touch more concerned about her people maybe, and she hadn’t tried to get Jango to shoot him in the head, even if it would have been easier.

Joy. Morals.

“I don‘t understand,” Obi-Wan said. “Why did you let the Hutt go? He may be innocent of the crime of which he has been accused. But I‘m sure he‘s guilty of others.”

“Yes, he‘s guilty,” Qui-Gon agreed. “But Clat‘Ha has her defender. As Jedi, we are bound only to defend those who have no other means of defense.”

It was all Maul could do not to laugh outright. He had seen jedi become generals. What would Jinn have done if he saw their precious defenders of peace fight a war and send men to die on their behalf.

“Still, one of Jemba‘s crew has to have sabotaged those tunnelers. Why doesn‘t he try to find out who did it?” Obi-Wan asked.

Qui-Gon answered, “Because if one of Jemba‘s men did do it, it will make him look bad before the miners‘ guild. He might be ordered off Bandomeer permanently. He knows that, so he won‘t point any fingers at his own.”

“Ah,” Si Treemba said. “And Clat‘Ha must feel the same. If anyone learned that one of her workers tried to frame Jemba, the miners‘ guild would be furious.”

“But it shouldn‘t be to hard to find out who really sabotaged the tunnelers,” Obi-Wan pointed out excitedly. His eyes were bright with a spark of determination in them.

Qui-Gon cocked an eyebrow. “This is not your affair,” he warned. “If you went looking for those thermocoms, all you would find is trouble. You must stay out of it. And stay away from the Offworld side of the ship. You‘re not fully recovered yet, Obi-Wan.”

Qui Gon left the trio in the infirmary.

“...so we’re going, right?” Maul asked without being prompted. He looked at Obi Wan, who did look a bit sheepish.

“We’ll need to search anywhere a thermocom could be.”

“They’re small,” Si Treemba said helpfully, and held up his hands to display their size.

“It won’t be too hard to search most of the ship, but the hutts will make it hard when we get closer to them. Best leave those ones to me, little jedi,” Maul advised.

“But, I hardly know you. I couldn't ask you to do such a thing.”

“You’re not asking, and I’m not giving you a choice. Shut up and start looking on this side of the ship, before your master finds out what you’re doing and scolds you.“

Kenobi’s gaze became downcast. “He is not my master. I am not his apprentice, nor am I duty bound to obey him.”

Maul started to grin. He’d never expected such a rebellious streak from him. Maybe there was hope for the little jedi yet, when he was still this young.

“Then fuck him. Let’s go to work.”

Kenobi gaped at him while Maul stood and, with practiced ease, pulled a vent free and vanished inside of it.

#Darth Maul #darth maul time travel #time travel #Star Wars #star wars the prequel trilogy #star wars time travel #obi wan kenobi #qui gon jinn #jango fett #si treemba

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purkinje-effect · 3 years

Text

The Anatomy of Melancholy, 70: Something Old, Something New

Table of Contents. Third Instar, Chapter 1. First chapter of Third Instar; go to previous. Go to next. TWs: Canon-typical animal violence, hostile locals.

In the shape of things to come.

_______________________

It should have jolted ‘Choly electric, when Sticks turned over Little Boy Blue with the rhythmic sequence of soft chirps from its push-button transmission. Yet, the smooth uniform purring of the fusion engine left him doe-eyed sinking deeper into the ancient moving blanket that had been folded lengthwise and tucked down atop the otherwise exposed re-stuffed guts of the passenger seat’s upholstery. A lone Mister Handy fuel tank tucked itself behind him.

Sticks had replaced the front driver’s seat with a balding duct-taped armchair, trimmed to fit; he had also replaced the entire back seat with a footlocker, to make extra room inside the vehicle. The ghoul had paid the interior far more attention in flirting after perfectionism, with what he could loot from Concord nearby. His flux welding intimated once present chrome contours, the refinished salvaged wood, its prior vinyl wood paneling. The ghoul drew down the parking lever, now a screwdriver with a leather-wrapped handle, took the freshly royal blue 2071 Chryslus Coupe out of neutral, and eased it out from under the canopy of the Red Rocket Truck Stop to exit the parking lot.

Before ‘Choly could register to wave to the Sanctuary settlers out the open window behind them, Sticks had shifted into third and spirited them down to the first light to turn East into Concord. He sank down in his seat again, and folded his gloved hands in his lap.

‘Choly supposed that the two of them were just as patched together as Blue--though Angel would certainly have argued it took the cake for this distinction, were it in on his internal monologue. The composite Mister Handy had powered off its thruster on Blue’s roof, where Sticks had latched it down with a pair of tow chains, hooked around the rear pillars of the blown-out back windows. From atop the car, its Mister Gutsy grade sensors would provide them with a slightly greater forewarning of incumbent road hazards.

Sticks slapped the steel dashboard and laughed.

“Hah! aren’t the hydraulics just riding like a dream.” He beamed, petting at it. “Ohh, sometimes I surprise even myself.”

“It’s skating on glass,“ ‘Choly agreed, his attention squarely on the ghoul. He chewed at his lip. “Are you sure you don’t need another nap? We could pull in behind the Wright’s Inn, and you could recline--”

Rather than answer, Sticks zipped left and picked up a speed more befitting an automobile. With the windows down, the quarter windows open, and the floor vents unlatched, the crisp breeze disturbed ‘Choly’s headspace before it could sour. He tugged his golf visor down on his head, and coughed a bit at the smell of the road kicking up in the floorboards, but he welcomed the fresh air, as the air conditioning was the one notable thing Sticks had not managed to restore in some capacity.

He couldn’t get the ghoul to admit how he’d managed a (mostly) in-tact windshield, when there hadn’t been a scrap of glass left on the husk of the car after laying on its side for the better part of two hundred years.

‘Choly reached up to put a hand on the roof. Angel tapped it emphatically, reassuringly. His eyes couldn’t follow the scenery as they zipped along Route 62.

“Have you been further North than Lowell?”

“Oh, yeah. No further than Ant, though. Never been reason for me to. This’ll be a first.”

Route 62 changed over to Route 4 as it eased North. Sticks swerved around a bit of road debris, but did not otherwise slow down. ‘Choly fretted that little remained of the junkyard, after the fusion engines of automobile and robotics alike had exploded last he’d been this way. Sticks decided to push Blue’s constitution and gunned it up to sixty, then eighty.

As the scenery blurred past them and even with the correct prescription of eyewear on his face, ‘Choly shook his daze and instead squinted at the map on his Pip-Boy.

“Ant? As in... ants?”

“Don’t overthink it. We’re not stopping. Straight shot to Nashua.” The ghoul belted another laugh, letting the wind whisk his noseless face and last locks of blond hair. “I haven’t had a car run this smooth in eighty years. Maybe more.”

“You did great...” 'Choly admired his enthusiasm and pride of craftsmanship. “I doubt anybody else could’ve done what you’ve done.”

“You can say that again.” Sticks threw a hand across the back of ‘Choly’s headrest, and rubbed at his shoulder. ‘Choly leaned into it. “With how well he runs, we might be able to get back to Goodneighbor by the end of the week. --Fuck Tucker Bridge, though. Fuck it to Hell.”

“You really think we’re on the road for a while then?” He picked at the radio dials before deciding not to see if WXXX was the only surviving station in the area. “Shouldn’t we stop to loot in Tyngsborough or Chelmsford, then? There’s plenty of silt flour for a month or two, but I’ll need way more than a bottle of mouthwash and a half tube of toothpaste if we don’t want to have to choose between using it and my eating it.”

“For real. Don’t sweat it. If I were worried about groceries, I’d have had us stay over in Billerica to loot on the way down. Still can’t quite wrap my head around you getting by on that stuff, ya know.”

“Mm.”

Several minutes passed where they took in the sound of the open road. The unevenness of the rubbled roadway became more obvious to ‘Choly in the break in conversation, although Blue cleared a majority of it without hesitation.

“Say, where do you see us a year from now, anyway?”

“Is this your way of proposing to me?” ‘Choly turned to him with a starstruck start. “Next you’ll tell me you’ve got rings in that Cram tin.”

Sticks turned thoughts over in his head a bit.

“Well, there are rings in there. But they’re not for you. That box of rocks is our insurance.”

“I suppose I’ve spoiled the game, then.”

“You’re the one who had a proposal at all, you know. The proposal I was meaning. Gee, you really are head over heels for me, if you’re already talking about getting old.”

“I haven’t been thawed out for a whole year yet. It’s hard to imagine getting any older than I already am, let alone with you. ...You really think you’ll stick with me a whole year?”

“Many more, is the idea. Hopefully, you’ll stick with me.”

“...I meant to do that.”

“Sure,” the ghoul grinned, giving him a side-eye.

It took less than an hour for them to pass through the residential ruins of Chelmsford and Tyngsborough, though variably dense evergreens paved much of their way. The Merrimack ran against them to the right, coiling back and forth out of sight. Blue skipped a wet patch on Route 3A, spraying a muddy mist up into the floorboards and getting the two to sputtering and laughing.

Sticks slowed as they neared the invisible demarcation which once divided Massachusetts and New Hampshire. ‘Choly was about to crack a joke about speed limits, only to notice the three figures, in mostly combat armor, attending the military road blockade ahead. ‘Choly straightened in his seat as Sticks slowed to a stop.

The elder of two women stepped up to the driver’s side coddling the hulking chrome and steel form of an assault rifle. The other two guards aimed directly at the vehicle.

“You sure are a bad habit.” She chewed at a cigar.

“Sergeant Bea.” Sticks gave her an awful grin. “Just passing through. If that’s all right with you.”

She stooped to squint and scowl at ‘Choly. He swallowed hard and gave her a tepid smile.

“Sticks, you’ve got one minute to get that pile of metal shit off the Lane before I tell Gerald he’s got target practice.”

“Be out of your hair in half that,” he blandished. “Good to see you again, love.”

She told him off as they continued past. He casually waved his middle finger out the window, keeping his eyes ahead of him.

“You’re just on everyone’s good side, aren’t you?” ‘Choly wrung his hands, still stiff against the seat.

“Laners hate machines, is all. Can’t appreciate a fine automobile.”

As Sticks accelerated again, ‘Choly wondered whether Sticks’s reservations coming this way had more to do with the locals than the climate. He slouched, only to see a towering projection screen come up on their right. Agape, he nearly hung out the window, clutching at his visor. In the parking lot of what had once been a Starlight Drive-In, now stood a bustling flea market. A romance flickered anciently on the screen.

“Sticks, there’s people here. A hundred, maybe. People.” Under his breath, he murmured, “I wonder if they’ve got any horror movies.”

The ghoul scoffed.

“People with a stick up their asses, more like it.”

They passed the parking lot of a large shopping mall. Before ‘Choly could get into him, gunfire rang. A dozen mutated waterfowl the size of a human assailed around twenty settlers armed with shotguns, pole hooks, and bludgeons. Sticks sped up and ‘Choly grabbed him by the arm.

“The fuck are you doing!” the ghoul yelled. “Gerald’s their missile man!”

“We’ve got to go help them!”

“They don’t want our help!”

'Choly shook Sticks until he loathingly relented, then tried uselessly to unlatch the tow hooks in the back seat. Once he managed it, Angel lit its thruster and sped off saws blazing headlong toward the Radfowl. ‘Choly hadn’t expected to need to have a weapon at the ready. Sticks, meanwhile, hunched into the steering wheel with the determination to mow at least one goose-like thing down with the traffic barrier he’d bolted where Blue once had a front bumper.

The Mister Handy and the vehicle beset the composure of the locals far in excess of the fowl. As Blue connected with a pair of birds, the locals they’d squared off with immediately lashed out at the front of the car with their baseball bats. One punctured the trunk hood with their pole hook.

“HEY!” Sticks roared. He laid on the horn, and the three scattered to assist the others.

‘Choly shakily unholstered his Nagant. Before he could aim out his own window, a pair of Radfowl had rushed to snap and snarl in the driver’s side. One chomped down on Sticks’s upper arm where it could get at him, and he let out a groan. At close range, it felt more like administering tranquilizers with a jet injector rather than the modified syringer revolver he’d endeared as the Tryasovitsy. Their gnarly tusk-like teeth scraped at the door on the birds’ way down to the pavement.

‘Choly tried to get a better look, but Sticks shoved him back, to reach for the hunting rifle he’d tucked between the seat and door. He took aim and fired on one of the fowl.

“Just get your damn robot back over here before they beat the shit out of it.”

“Angel’s doing well with the birds--”

“--I meant the Laners.”

Another massive goose-like thing ran flailing toward the passenger side and ‘Choly reflexively drew on it, emptying the rest of his barrel of Pax Syringes with a choking panic. Once the last of the geese dropped, he sank back in his seat to steady ragged breathing.

Sticks got out of the car long enough to shoot the two Radfowl sedated on the driver’s side. An older man in fishing overalls with a shotgun came up and finished off the Radfowl on ‘Choly’s side before aiming the gun at him. A pair of teens had picked up the tow chains and approached Angel, swinging them slow and furious.

“We’re just trying to help!” ‘Choly squeaked out at the man. He dropped the silenced revolver in his lap in an instant. “We don’t mean you any harm!”

“You fucker. Ruined perfectly good meat,” the Laner snapped, repulsed and hateful. “Can’t eat drugged meat.”

“Please!” ‘Choly adjusted in his seat when he realized his sudden lurch could’ve seemed like hostility rather than begging. “Don’t hurt my Handy. We’re leaving! I swear it!”

“You’ve already wasted enough of our time. Tussling with you ain’t worth it.” The older man kicked at the concrete with a growl that punctuated in a hiss. “What did you think you were doing! Horning in on our hunt!?"

“Hunt?” ‘Choly frowned, guiltily incredulous. “You were attacking them?”

“You shouldn’t have risked yourselves like that. We had it under control. Get your goddamn tin can liabilities off the Lane!”

“Forgive us,” Sticks started. The man brandished a finger at him, warning that they keep their distance.

“And you can’t have any of our Radfowl meat!”

“All yours. Sorry to be trouble, folks. Angel! Come on, chap.”

Sticks waved to the Laners to gesticulate for the berth to reverse enough to turn around. They all glowered at the pair before getting to dressing their kills.

“The fuck is wrong with these people,” ‘Choly finally blurted out.

“Listen to me next time? I told you we didn’t need to help them.”

“Of course we did, Mister Hawthorne.” Angel swept around to the driver’s side where Sticks could hear its indignity. “It’s not our fault they’re ingrates!”

“Are you sure you’re all right? Those things have more teeth than a shark.”

“There had better be a Stimpak there. Or something.” He snorted to shrug off a pout. “Not like I’m bleeding out. Hurts, but I’ll live.”

“There’s definitely a full assortment of first aid stock at the warehouse. I’ll patch you up once we get inside. ...Sorry that I didn’t listen.”

“You keep doing the exact opposite of what I tell you, and it keeps biting you in the ass. This time, it bit me in the arm. Got a right mind to start telling you to do the opposite of what I think you’ll do.”

Now that they’d crossed the New Hampshire state line, ‘Choly produced the folder he’d tucked between the center console and seat, to skim Gretchen’s landmark location directory again. Going North on the Daniel Webster Highway, you’ll pass the Pheasant Lane Mall on your right. Crossing under a double overpass, there’s a Luxurique lot and cemetery on your left. The Nashua warehouse is at the next left.

“Let’s just... keep onward. Priorities. Right.” ‘Choly sighed. “We made good time getting up here. There’s still plenty of daylight left. The warehouse shouldn’t be more than ten minutes from here, provided we don’t encounter more locals.”

Go to next »»»

#fallout #fallout 4 #fallout fanfic #fallout 4 fanfic #sole survivor #ghoul oc #the anatomy of melancholy #mister handy #sticks #melancholy #angel

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tardytothepardy · 3 years

Text

Fruits Basket - Vol.15

You think you know someone, and then it turns out you really, really don't. At least, you know a very small portion of that person.

In a pretty hefty chunk of this book, we get a massive flashback into Yuki's childhood. As expected, it wasn't that great. What I didn't expect is how bad it was. It was,,, honestly a lot.

So, because he is the Rat Boy, and because I guess the rat is the closest to God in this whole situation, Yuki ended up being around Akito for most of his childhood. It wasn't ever really anything he wanted to do, it was just something he had to do. And from the short glimpse we get of Akito as a little kid, it seems like he didn't use to be anywhere near as bad as he is in the present (which makes sense). He seemed to have a short temper, but other than that, there wasn't anything unusual. Until one random day, that is. Akito kinda flipped his shit, and has been that way since. How nice.

As a result of always being close to Akito, no one else really wanted to be around Yuki. And after Akito cracked a bit, and started saying that Yuki wasn't wanted, that he was unnecessary, and that no one liked him, Yuki didn't much like being around Akito, but he didn't have any choice. Some time around then, Yuki's parents seem to have kinda sold Yuki to appease Akito, so he didn't even have his family to fall back on. Ayame, his older brother, ignored his existence as a whole. Have we even met Yuki's father in this entire series?

So when Yuki first heard of Kyo, how he was left outside, Yuki was pretty curious. He was alone, and so was this mysterious cat person. Maybe they could be friends? But, of course, the second that Kyo saw Yuki, he blamed Yuki for basically everything that went wrong in his life, just because Yuki was the rat, and he was the cat. Before this point, the whole Juunishi thing doesn't really seem to affect Yuki much, he doesn't seem to categorize people based on what animal spirit they have, but I imagine that after this incident, maybe that changed. After that initial interaction with Kyo, Yuki didn't immediately hate him, he was just sad and confused, but moving on, I bet it was excellent fuel to the fire.

(Oh hey I'll just put this here, that after Kyo yelled at him for "ruining everything" and that everyone would be happier if he just disappeared, he ran into his mom again. He was upset, and probably could've used some nice comfort. Instead of that, he got slapped in the face. So. -1 for Yuki's mom.)

Do you remember way back, probably around the first books, when Yuki brought up that time that he accidently turned into a rat while playing with some kids in elementary school? It went over that. It was already a sad scene, but now there's this additional context that when he was playing around with the other kids, that was basically one of the first times that he was truly happy. But after he changed into a rat, well obviously that had to be covered up, so all those kids that he was starting to make friends with were made to completely forget about him. He wasn't back to square one, he was at square zero, because now he had had a taste of friendship, just for it to be taken away and replaced with Akito (and probably other people) shaming him for having the audacity of being born as a Juunishi, because he totally chose to be like that, right?

Another slight detour, the hat. So the hat was originally Kyo's, but after he saw Yuki holding it, he just decided that it wasn't his anymore. And, oh my fucking god? The following panels are fucking heart wrenching, it's terrible. Did no one hear Yuki crying, or did they just ignore it? Like, I don't like kids, I can't handle them when they're screaming (why do they scream so much it's weird) or crying, but oh my god, that hurts me. That panel hurts me. He just wants a family that loves and cares for him, that doesn't avoid or ignore him. (Put a pin in this sentiment, because it pops up later.)

After a steady diet of this kinda thing, with Akito's acidic words, people's general distaste or indifference for him, he started being scared to reach out to others. (Personally, I kinda feel like screaming at these people, like wtf is wrong with all of them) It's here when he just seems to kinda shut off. All this time, he's still sickly, and feeling like your life is without worth (and having your world confirm it everyday) doesn't exactly make you fight to stay healthy, y'know?

And here's when Yuki kinda is given a purpose, because after Akito visited him when his cough was acting up, and basically asked him, "Are you going to die yet? If you're gonna do it, just do it already", he left the house, and ran out randomly out in town in the early morning, where he overheard Kyoko screaming to the police about how her adorable little daughter in her adorable little dress with her cute hair in adorable little pom-poms was missing and she was going to tear down the town to find her. He kept running down some roads, until he did actually find that adorable little daughter.

On his end, it seemed to be a series of "Well shit. What now?" after finding her, and only continued as Tohru saw him and started following after him until he led her back to her house. This whole thing, as has been explained in previous books, was basically the first time in his life where someone needed him, specifically him, to help them. And that feeling, of knowing that he was able to help someone, and that he was needed, even for a little bit, was enough to pull him through.

Then we're pulled back to present, shortly after Machi broke open the closet door with a chair where Yuki was stuck in, which was the main thing that even started this whole thing, where he's explaining kind of why he came to see and/or love Tohru in maternal way. Thing is, just like when that was revealed, I still don't blame him for it. She's very caring. I'll admit (like Kakeru, who has kinda been there sitting with Yuki this whole time, apparently in silence) that I don't wholly understand it, on a personal level, but I can see why he thinks that. It makes sense.

Now onto to wacky happenings and zany shenanigans! The school is making a play, and Kyo's one of the main characters (despite never really showing that he has literally any interest in acting or theater, but yaknow whatever) in a Cinderella play, with Cinderella herself being played as Hanajima! This has already been brought up in the last book, but I'm just reiterating for fun or something idk

Tohru's having a hard time fitting into the role of an evil stepsister, to the point that she's worried about slowing others down because she just,,, can't,,, make,, herself,,,,, be,, meannnnn omigod it's so hard ;-; Additionally, Kyo's just not showing up for rehearsals and stuff, he's not even bothering. Probably bc it's embarrassing for him. And with these two main problems (the show can't go on if Prince Charming doesn't know his lines, after all), the play is altered, ever so slightly, so that it becomes "Sorta Cinderella". What a marvelous title.

Let's go back to that pin I mentioned earlier, with Yuki wishing he could have had a family that loved and cared for him.

So, before some of this stuff with the play, Yuki brought up The Hat, of the "It was first owned by Kyo but he later abandoned it after seeing that Yuki picked it up, and later wore that hat when he led Tohru back to her mom" fame, in a very off-handed manner. I think he just said that Tohru still has the hat, in her room, that's she's kept it all this time. This throws some unpleasant memories for Kyo into the air, and leaves him rather bitter.

Leading back to the main scene at hand, Kyo kinda goes off on Yuki, saying that Yuki was lucky: he had a mom and dad, he was needed, he was involved in the family matters. He's had it easy, had the world handed to him on a silver platter, and that he'll never understand what it's like to hope for something despite knowing he'll never get it. (and both times i've read that so far, i just want to yoink kyo into the beginning of this book, like, no dude. your childhood was fucked up, but so was his.) He stops mid-rant, however, when he sees that Yuki is not fighting back, at all, and when he remembers something that (probably) Akito said, that Kyo just uses Yuki as something he can hate. Naturally, why would you ever want to feed into something that Akito would say, so he stops, but not before punching a hole in a window. Ow.

Finally, we've gotten to the play, the main event! Hiro, Kisa, Momiji, and Haru (among others) are there to witness the,, the sight? (Idk man it's 12:30am) Hiro is acting strangled, as per usual, trying to keep Kisa away from all the creeps, but also trying his small-child most to not Mess Things Up, as he has a slight history of doing throughout the series thus far.

The play in of itself is pretty funny, personally I think the narrator was doing the heavy lifting in this one. But more importantly, there's a point where "Cinderella" asks "Prince Charming" if all he ever wants out of life is to hide away from people, locked away in his own space, dying alone, (which I heavily doubt was part of the script, because,, whoa) and partway through telling her that he wouldn't affect anyone if he did do that, the "Stepsister" (Tohru) interrupts him, saying that would make her... she stops herself, but one can assume that the end of that statement would likely be that, if "Prince Charming" (psh nah this isn't about the play anymore) Kyo were to do that, she would get very upset, and generally not have a good time. And he had the audacity to be surprised about that like wtf man.

After the play, Yuki runs into a group of girls that are harrassing Machi, because she said that Yuki isn't like a prince. She didn't explain herself after saying it, and so I suppose the Yuki Fan Club (or whatever it's called idk I'd be surprised but also not if it wasn't called that) took offense to her disagreeing with her. After being pushed around (literally), Machi says that Yuki just seems too lonely of a person to be a prince, that despite being surrounded by people, he just kinda seems out of it most of the time. Now, is that true? It kinda seems so, so, props to Machi for seeing that, hopefully she's not going to be kidnapped and tortured (idk stuff happens). Hearing Machi say all that does kinda startle Yuki, but the fight itself stops after Kakeru makes a fake announcement about a photoshoot with Yuki that makes the bullies scatter away.

And that's basically the end of it. Although the flashback thing with Yuki probably didn't even take up a third of the book, it was still some pretty heavy stuff, so it's nice that it was offset slightly with the play. I don't really have much else to say about that.

#i'll probably just go straight into the tags tbh #now it's 1am which is ridiculous why do i make these so long #agh #anyway #fruits basket #furuba #tohru honda #kyo sohma #yuki sohma #akito sohma #hanajima saki #fruits basket volume 15 #fruits basket vol 15

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theliberaltony · 4 years

Link

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

Welcome to an emergency edition of FiveThirtyEight’s politics chat. The transcript below has been lightly edited.

sarah (Sarah Frostenson, politics editor): Very early Friday morning, President Trump tweeted that he and First Lady Melania Trump had tested positive for COVID-19. That news came just after reports on Thursday that White House senior advisor Hope Hicks had tested positive.

There’s a lot we still don’t know at this point, including the extent of White House staff affected or the severity of the president’s symptoms, but with about a month until Election Day, this is … an October surprise, to say the least.

Let’s start with one of the big questions: What does this mean for the election?

natesilver (Nate Silver, editor in chief): So for some reason I’m finding it hard to think through the electoral implications this morning. Maybe I need even more coffee. My thoughts right now are mostly some combination of:

Seriously how the F*CK does this happen? Shouldn’t everybody in the president’s orbit have been tested constantly?

And, OF COURSE this happened because 2020 and because the president clearly was not taking that many precautions

perry (Perry Bacon Jr., senior writer): My overall answer is, “I have no idea how this affects the election.” This is truly unprecedented, as far as I know, in American elections — the president getting a serious virus weeks before the election. I can’t think of any leader abroad who has gotten a virus like this weeks before the election either (though I am not an expert on elections outside of the United States).

So while I have some general thoughts, I wanted to lay that out first. I truly have no idea what to expect, how voters will react to Trump’s positive test, how the media will cover it or how other candidates will react.

Don’t.

Know.

ameliatd (Amelia Thomson-DeVeaux, senior writer): Yeah — it’s such a black box and honestly so dependent on what happens next. Does Trump get really sick? Does he stay mostly asymptomatic? How far did the virus spread in the White House? All questions we can’t answer right now, of course. But hugely important for how people respond.

natesilver: Yeah. We’re going to be saying “I don’t know” a lot in this chat. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with thinking through the electoral implications. There’s an election happening literally NOW — millions of people have already voted. So Americans are wrestling with this stuff. We just don’t have a lot of good answers.

ameliatd: And, of course, there’s an open question about whether Joe Biden will test positive, after he and Trump were at the debate together on Tuesday.

natesilver: Right, and one thing I’m not sure people realize is that there can be several days between exposure and a positive test. So we won’t know for sure which people have or don’t have COVID-19 for a bit here.

ameliatd: In the meantime, though, this does mean that Trump can’t campaign for at a while, right? And what about the debates, which were supposed to be on Oct. 15 and 22? Do those still happen?

How much does it matter if Trump can’t campaign, though? This was already a deeply bizarre year and I’m not sure his rallies were going to put him over the edge.

natesilver: Zoom debates?

ameliatd: Everyone wanted that automatic mute last time!

natesilver: At a very basic, square-one level, COVID-19 is a huge liability for the president, and so placing more focus on COVID-19 probably isn’t great for him. But I don’t know how useful that is as a prior. Could Trump getting COVID-19 change his messaging around the virus and pandemic? Maybe. But this is Donald Trump we’re talking about. He’s not inclined to be overly disciplined or deferential to scientists, etc. He’s pretty unpredictable, and we don’t yet know a lot about how serious his symptoms are. And this is a bad disease that can have cognitive effects in addition to physical ones.

Also in terms of very, basic, non-debatable priors: the president’s re-election bid was in DEEP trouble going into this, at least by conventional measures. And the smattering of post-debate polls we’d gotten had been particularly bad for him. So just worth keeping that in mind.

sarah: Absolutely. But on the question of how this happened … The Trump campaign has not taken precautions seriously. They’ve continued to hold large, in-person events. And they’ve even mocked the Biden campaign for wearing masks.

Is one possible scenario from this that Americans take the coronavirus more seriously? Views on COVID-19 and Trump’s response to it are polarized by party, but how could Trump’s positive test change public opinion?

ameliatd: I think what happens with public opinion really depends on how sick Trump gets. As I wrote over the summer, a big part of the reason Republicans are not as into COVID-19 restrictions is that they are much, much less likely to view the virus as a personal health threat to them.

And research has indicated that Trump downplaying the virus is probably a significant driver of that. So I could see this playing out at least two ways …

Trump gets moderately or very sick and this does prompt Republicans to think, “Oh geez, this actually is serious and if it could happen to Trump it could happen to me”;

Trump remains mostly asymptomatic and it bolsters the idea that this is actually not such a big deal.

perry: So, writing this on Friday morning, here’s what I expect …

The overwhelming majority of people, even those who are older, don’t die from COVID-19. So the most likely outcome is that Trump and some of his staffers have COVID-19, stay somewhat distanced from everyone for two weeks and then Trump returns to campaigning for reelection (I am not sure if he has the big rallies, but I wouldn’t rule that out.) I am not even sure the next two debates have to be canceled — particularly the Oct 22 one. And basically nothing has shaken Trump’s job approval ratings or really the race overall. I don’t really expect this to shift things either.

The president testing positive for COVID-19 is obviously hugely significant, but it’s not revelatory. We already knew Trump was not taking the virus seriously enough. Now, we have a much more obvious manifestation of that fact, but nothing is really different. Biden may not be able to attack Trump as bluntly on COVID now, for decorum reasons, but this positive test reinforces Biden’s message that Trump has let this crisis get out of hand. So this matters, but I’m not sure it matters electorally in terms of shifting a lot of people’s votes.

ameliatd: I know we’re thinking way down the line now, but is it possible that battling and surviving COVID-19 could actually make Trump more popular in some corners? Especially if he doesn’t get very sick?

natesilver: Amelia, I’m not sure I really buy that. I mean, somehow if it made the president into a more empathetic person, maybe, I suppose? But (i) I’m not sure that’s how he’s likely to react as opposed to sending 6,000 tweets about the “China Virus” or something; and (ii) he’s been trying to project a lot of macho-ness/dominance and to portray Biden as old and feeble and I’m not sure how contracting a serious disease himself fits into that.

ameliatd: Well, but if he contracts a serious disease and doesn’t get very sick and recovers fairly quickly — that certainly doesn’t seem as bad for him.

natesilver: I guess if he recovers in a couple of weeks, which is still what happens for most people, maybe he’ll say he kicked COVID’s ass and/or it wasn’t that serious. But I don’t think that necessarily affects anything electorally.

ameliatd: So, is the main impact potentially less about politics and more about the way Americans think about the virus? Either prompting Republicans to take it more seriously or reinforcing their sense that this really isn’t a big deal?

There was research back in March indicating that COVID-19 spreading at CPAC helped drive a brief moment when Republicans and Democrats were on the same page about the seriousness of the virus.

perry: So I don’t buy this idea that Trump will get COVID-19, be fine and then start calling it “Fake News.” We just learned Ronna McDaneil, the RNC chair, has also tested positive. So has Hope Hicks, a top Trump adviser. I think enough people in Trump’s circle may have the virus that THOSE PEOPLE start taking this more seriously, basically forcing him to as well.

natesilver: This is one sort of message we might hear, I guess:

Remember: China gave this virus to our President @realDonaldTrump and First Lady @FLOTUS.

WE MUST HOLD THEM ACCOUNTABLE.

— Kelly Loeffler (@KLoeffler) October 2, 2020

sarah: But this question of whether it will change how seriously people perceive the coronavirus is an interesting one. Americans overall, as we saw in our debate polling with Ipsos, listed the coronavirus as their No. 1 issue:

COVID-19 and the economy are Americans’ top two issues

Share of respondents who named each issue as the top one facing the U.S., according to a FiveThirtyEight/Ipsos poll

issue share of all Respondents COVID-19 31.7%

–

The economy 21.6

–

Health care 7.9

–

Racial inequality 7.4

–

Climate change 5.2

–

Violent crime 4.8

–

The Supreme Court 4.5

–

Economic inequality 3.0

–

Immigration 2.8

–

Education 2.6

–

Abortion 2.3

–

Gun policy 1.9

–

Other 1.6

–

Data comes from polling done by Ipsos for FiveThirtyEight, using Ipsos’s KnowledgePanel, a probability-based online panel that is recruited to be representative of the U.S. population. The poll was conducted Sept. 21-28 among a general population sample of adults, with 3,133 respondents and a margin of error of +/- 1.9 percentage points.

However, among potential Trump supporters a much smaller share (15.5 percent) said the coronavirus was their most important issue, many more were concerned about the economy:

Potential Trump voters care most about the economy

Among respondents who were more likely to vote for Trump than Biden, share who named each issue as the top one facing the U.S., according to a FiveThirtyEight/Ipsos poll

issue share of trump supporters The economy 38.4%

–

COVID-19 15.5

–

Violent crime 9.5

–

The Supreme Court 6.2

–

Abortion 5.4

–

Health care 4.9

–

Immigration 4.8

–

Education 3.9

–

Gun policy 3.4

–

Other 2.4

–

Racial inequality 1.8

–

Economic inequality 1.6

–

Climate change 0.5

–

Respondents were asked to rate how likely they were to vote for each candidate on a scale of 0-10. Respondents were deemed more likely to vote for whichever candidate they gave a higher score. Respondents who gave both candidates the same score are not included.

I think you could argue that the economy is probably linked to coronavirus among Trump supporters, but this could be a moment that has public health repercussions, yes?

ameliatd: Well, there was a jobs report this morning — one that I suspect is now going to get a LOT less attention. It was kinda positive — if you can consider the unemployment rate falling just under 8 percent positive.

perry: I think there could be a bunch of real, important health outcomes from this …

GOP governors and mayors may be a bit more hesitant to lift COVID restrictions;

Democratic mayors and governors may cite Trump’s positive test as part of their messaging on keeping restrictions in place;

Republican voters may become a bit less dismissive of COVID, in part because GOP elites take it more seriously;

Overall, this news could be important and have a positive impact in terms of Americans taking the virus more seriously.

ameliatd: Yeah, I’m also wondering if this will change the way Republican governors approach restrictions, which are all but completely lifted in some states.

Although I do think it’s important to note that the vast majority of Americans say they’ve been complying with public health guidelines like mask-wearing, even if Republicans are much less likely to agree with government restrictions on businesses.

perry: To take an example: Georgia Gov. Brian Kemp, a Republican, is never going to give a press conference and say something like, “I was downplaying COVID-19 but then Trump got it and it reinforced how serious this was.” At least, I think that will never happen?

natesilver: I suppose I’m skeptical that this will necessarily change all that much. As you can see from the Kelly Loeffler tweet above, there are lots of partisan responses that don’t necessarily involve taking the disease more seriously per se.

Now, if Trump said something like what Perry just layed out, i.e. “I wasn’t taking this seriously enough, and I now understand the error of my ways…” then OK! That could make a difference! But I’m not sure that’s necessarily the most likely outcome.

ameliatd: But for regular people, I think a lot of this is about the gut-level fear that this might happen to them. Trump downplaying it, not wearing a mask, and not getting sick almost certainly helped reinforce the feeling among Republicans that it’s not a big deal. So I also think the way this is presented in conservative media, how visible Trump’s illness is — all of that matters for how people respond.

It’s true that the partisan response is pretty baked in at this point. But if Trump gets really sick, I could see that changing. Of course, if Republican governors start being more cautious with restrictions again and more people lose their jobs — that raises questions for whether a new stimulus package might actually get off the ground, too. I remain skeptical that will happen! But maybe there’s more pressure to break the stalemate in Congress?

sarah: There are a number of possibilities here, the most pressing one, of course, is that Trump can’t campaign — not to mention if Vice President Mike Pence has to step in. What should we be looking for as this story develops?

ameliatd: Trump’s symptoms are obviously a big one. And if they’re serious, there might be calls to take him off the ballot.

Also, Biden’s testing status — which we should know sooner than Trump’s symptoms, I would think.

natesilver: Right, part of what makes this tough to predict — and I’m not against prediction! — is that we don’t yet know if Trump will have a mild or severe case, how many people in his orbit are also infected, whether Biden is infected, etc.

perry: Assuming Trump recovers, what does his campaign look like on Oct. 16? Is he still holding big rallies? Is he wearing a mask? Are his staffers? Does the Oct. 22 debate take place, and in person? What about the Oct. 15 one? Is he further dismissing the virus because he survived it?

natesilver: Let’s also keep in mind that the recovery process isn’t quick for some people. It can take months, or longer — long-term COVID symptoms are scary.

#IFTTT #Politics – FiveThirtyEight #politics #538 #A FiveThirtyEight Chat

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letsgetsinfulbaby · 5 years

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Could we talk about the body types in AD for a moment? Despite the characters being based off of different shapes (like diamonds, stars, squares, etc), theres not really any diversity to them and sometimes the body types don't make any sense at all. With Wrathia as an example, for someone who represents wrath and is a literal alien demon goddess of fire and war you would think she would have more scars from previous battles or be more muscular but no. She just looks like a skinny chick. 1/2

Or with Gil whose supposed to be this religious cult member who tries to act nice or help people that he would be more slim/lean but NOPE! He’s just a hunk like Odin despite him being isolated on a planet b/c of TITAN for all those years for his training as a doctor! Maybe with Nevy element is related to water that she would have more of a pear body type (since pear-shapes are the closest things to tear-drops) but no she has the same body type as with everyone else. Sorry for the rant 2/2

it can be kind of hard to talk about this as three of the hosts are minor so I’m more or less going to skip over them.

Wrathia with her unique biology we have literally no clue as to things such as to how cuts and bruises affect her or how they may show up on her. On her reference sheet and in earlier panels of when she was alive it showed her to be of an average build with a small chest, but recently and even when Nevy had a flashback with Wrathia’s previous husband she had a much larger chest then previous. It’s valid in Ava’s mind but not in flashbacks to when she was alive, also I think Michelle once stated that between Wrathia and Pedri that wrathia was the strategos which would explain the slim build. Her face was always that angular triangle shape but she had virtually no nose which I liked and really fit in with the “evolved from dinosaurs” trivia. But throughout the comic, she slowly developed a nose which once again makes all the female characters look the same.

I COMPLETELY AGREE WITH NEVY. I feel as though nevy is meant to come off as soft and id even go as far as to say motherly. In her reference sheet, her face is slightly round almost an in-between face of Avas and Maggie with her round cheeks and pointy chin. With the Nevy centered chapter and her recent reappearance, her face has begun to look the same as Avas and Maggies but in the negative same face syndrome sense. Her nose is still pretty round and she has the plump lips so it’s not as bad as the others.

I don’t have much to say on Tuls or Pedri other then maybe Pedri should be a little bit more buff just cause. Gil I feel has been made to look much older than the other three hosts like to the point where he looks like he’s in his early to mid-20s even though he’s only 19.

I don’t have much to say on Pedri or Tuls, but I will say that the fact that Odin has stated in a vague way that he knows what starving feels like so I think his clothes should hang off of him more. unless he has been at the TITAN reeducation planet long enough to eat and fill out he should still be pretty much skin and bones.

#AD asks #anonymous #wrathia bellarmina #Nevy Nervine #Michelle Fus #pedri nanezgani #tuls tenebrose #odin arrow #Gil Marverde #titan inc.

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carryonmywaywardwriters · 5 years

Text

Taphophobia - Dean x Reader (One Shot)

A/N: Okay, this is going a little slow. But, seems to be going still. I have this edited piece, and then at least one drabble to post before I crash. As usual, feedback is always incredible. I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Warnings: Mentions of abuse. Phobias. Being buried alive. Reader death. Nothing but angst.

Word Count: Roughly 2,700

“What's your biggest fear?” The air chilled around you and Dean. Fogging up the breath you let out into the night. Sixteen years old, and too many cares in the world.

Hunting did that to a person. Aged them young. You both felt as if you were forty. Weighed down by the weight of others' lives.

“My biggest fear?” He passed over the whiskey, and leaned back against the tree behind him. Humming a bit as he thought. Looking up at the moon as you rolled up the sleeves to his jacket over your own arms. “I don't know...I guess...” The Winchester inhaled deeply, trying to settle on one as you took a swig. “I guess being alone.” His lips tightened as he dwelled on it for a moment. “Yeah, I think that's it. Sammy...he's already talkin' college. And being left with dad...”

“Being alone sounds less scary than being left alone with John,” You shuddered at the very idea. Thinking of the bruises that had been known to line Dean's body.

He told everyone it was monsters. Always had. Yet, you knew better. A drunk, angry John Winchester was a force to be reckoned with. Dean rarely came out on top. But, he took it so you and Sam never had to. Always had been, and always would be, your hero.

“At least he's familiar,” The green eyes turned towards you. Trying to see the positive.

However, he must not have been able to. They widened as he imagined life alone with his father. Silently asking that you didn't leave him to face the reality. Didn't force him to make the choice between facing the emptiness he was so scared of, and the harsh life he'd live with only John by his side.

“Yeah...I get that.” The words seemed to relax him a little more. Letting a deep, heavy sigh leave the boy that carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Your own parents had been killed six years prior. You'd just been a kid. So had Dean. The only reason John had allowed you to join the crew was so that Sam was never left on his own. Unfair? Perhaps, but that's how things were.

The Winchesters were all you had. If it came down to choosing John over nothing? You'd choose the abuse. As sad and lonely as it would be. Anything to be close to the memories of Sam and Dean.

“Now, what about you?” Dean's brow rose. Asking you to dig deep. You took another large swig in response. Letting the burn down your throat give you strength. “That bad?”

“It just freaks me out,” You shuddered, passing over the bottle for Dean to finish. Wincing a bit at the after taste. “You know I don't like small spaces?” An easy nod was his answer.

It was no secret. Hiding away, in the back of a closet was the first thing you were able to remember. Listening to the screams of your family. Hearing the roar of the wolf that had tore their beating hearts from their bodies. That kind of thing left scars.

Maybe even more than holding a baby brother while everything burned had impacted Dean. At least he hadn't been able to see Mary on the ceiling. You could see the flash of blood through the panel's cracks. See the bodies being thrown.

John had tossed you in a coat closet, once. His version of a fitting punishment. For simply grabbing his fist before it could hit the squared jaw of the oldest boy.

While you were in there, you could hear John raving. Words slurring as he tore Dean a new one verbally. Not even caring that Sam would be witness for once. Too deep in the drink and grief to care, anymore.

When Dean had opened up the door, the damage had been done. Eleven years old, and mentally broken. Tears trailed down your face as the heavy panting left your parted lips. Too trapped in the memories to move.

The older brother had to crawl in next to you. Drained and all, he'd helped you ground yourself enough to walk away. To plaster a smile on your face to tell the youngest that everything would be okay.

“Just small spaces?” His brow furrowed at that. Remembering it all. Wondering, not for the first time, just how damaged his father had left you.

“Almost,” You shrugged, tugging Dean's leather jacket closer around your body. Needing that sense of security as you faced what haunted your dreams. “Being buried alive.” His head tilted a bit as you explained. “There's the small space, for one. The lack of control that comes with it. You can't escape...it isn't slow, either. You have time to panic. To try and claw your way to safety...but, in the end? There's not a thing you can do.”

Every nightmare you'd ever had stared back at you. There wasn't a thing you hadn't imagined. The terror that came with it sank into your bones.

“Come here,” Dean tugged you closer, holding you under his strong grasp. His chin rested along your scalp. “Let's think about something more positive, alright? I'm kinda sick of all the doom and gloom.” Sick of seeing your unease. He wanted you happy. Safe.

As you nodded, his lips dropped to press against your temple. Telling you how much you meant to him without words. A gentle squeeze pulled some of the tension from your body. Trusting him to keep you secure. After all, he always had.

–

“Where is she?” Dean growled out, stalking forward with fury in his green eyes. The male witch was shoved backwards by his throat.

There was no fear present in his face. No remorse. Simply amusement. As if he got off on causing pain.

“You aren't going to make it in time,” The being bit out gleefully. Looking up at the hunter with a smug grin. It didn't fade when the solid fist slammed into his head. If anything, it only grew stronger despite the blood dripping down his chin. “She had six hours...if she's lucky.”

“You better hope you're wrong.” Magic stalling cuffs held him captive. Leaving Dean time to play. Time he didn't have.

Every minute ticked by faster and faster. Making the Winchester more desperate with each click from the clock. Torture was a trick he'd learned to keep under wraps. However, he had no problem placing each cut into the unmarred skin of the witch. Ensuring that his pain would be too much to bear. Sure enough, it worked. “She's buried,” The bloodied being hissed out, arching against his restraints. “But, that's all you're getting from me, Winchester.”

“You did what?” The hunter roared, grabbing the man by his collar. His stomach twisting at the thought. He could hear your voice from all those years ago. Echoing in his head as his fist slammed into the smug face. Over and over again. Not caring if the witch was dead, or just unconscious. It was only the thought of time running low that pulled him away. “Sammy?” Dean was on the move as he called his brother. “We need to get some shovels. Start looking for any disturbed ground.”

“Why?” The younger man's voice cracked in fear. He had reason to be terrified. There was only minutes left. If you were lucky.

“The bastard threw her in the dirt,” Dean bit out, already on the prowl. Needing to fix everything. To save you. “We've got two acres to cover. He figured six hours, Sam...”

“Dean...what if-”

“Don't say it.” The biting tone ended the thought before it could escape. Terror squeezed at his heart. It was if he was feeling what you were. Suddenly his lungs burned. “We're going to make it in time. We have to, Sammy.”

“I'll meet you around back,” Sam stated softly. Almost as though he felt it was hopeless. Dean ended the call with a slam. Refusing to buy into the negativity.

It would be okay. You would be fine. You had to be.

Ten minutes. Twenty. By thirty, Dean was coated in sweat. His heart raced as he desperately searched over the ground.

Then, he saw it. The disturbed dirt was nestled beside a tree. At the very end of the property.

“Sam!” He shouted, already on the move. By the time his brother made it to his side, the flannel had been discarded. A large dent in the top started.

“Holy shit,” Sam muttered, taking in the size of the hole. There was little mistaking what rested underneath the dirt.

Neither brother said a word from that point on. Too afraid to do more than shovel. And pray that everything would be fine. Miracles happened every day. If anyone was due for one, it was you. Holding onto that thought, the dug until their muscles ached.

They'd ripped open a million graves in their life time. But this time? They were digging up yours. And it made all of the difference. What would usually take hours, and breaks only took them a fraction of the time.

You were down to seconds as Dean threw the final layer of dirt out with his bare hands. Exposing the shiny coffin that had been reported missing eight hours before. The witch had planned on nabbing one of them. You'd just happened to be in the way.

“Y/N!” He yelled out, yanking it open. There was no sound outside of their harsh breathing. You didn't move- didn't react- as the light hit your face. The color was leeched from your skin. “Y/N?” The broken crack left Dean as he stared. Trying to see movement. Anything to tell him you were okay. There was no fluttering of your eyelashes. No twitch in your limbs. Not even the rise and fall of your chest. “No,” He whispered; his eyes filling with the water he'd been fighting so hard to repress. “No...god, please...no.” He was lunging at you, then. Checking for your pulse. Even knowing that there would be none. “Damn it, Y/N...” Dean bit out, moving his hands to yours to begin chest compressions. “You can't leave me, okay? Not like this.” You didn't answer as he slammed his hands over your sternum rapidly. He bent over, pinching your nose before breathing into your parted lips.

Sam watched as his brother lost it. The tears slipped down the dirt covered skin only to land on your body. Cracking filled the air as the force of his will broke your ribs. But, there was no in drawn breath.

Fifteen minutes passed before the younger brother couldn't take anymore, “Dean...” Yet, the older brother didn't stop. Begging you quietly through gritted teeth to open those E/C eyes inside that coffin. “I...I think she's gone.” Sam's voice cracked, watching the scene unfold helplessly.

“She can't be,” Dean hissed out, starting to slow. His arms burned. The breath leaving his lips was ragged. Sweat trailed lines across his grey t-shirt and dirt coated skin. But, none of that mattered. Not so long as your chest didn't rise on its own.

“Dean-”

“No!” He shouted back. Voice hard and filled with threats of violence if anything got between him and you. “She's alive, damn it. She has to be...I have...I have to save her.” But that time, his movements ceased. It was beginning to sink in. “I...” His words ended as he looked down at the blue tint to your skin. There was no coming back. Your nails were ripped to shreds. Hands raw and bloody from your attempts to dig the coffin open. The material above your head was shredded. You'd fought til the end, he was sure. “Y/N?” The finality of it sunk in when you didn't respond. He lost it in earnest, then. “I...I...I'm...I'm so...so s...sorry, sweetheart.” His fingers ran through your hair, gently. Shaking as a broken sob left him. Sam could only sit back and watch as his brother mourned the love of his life.

It was daylight by the time he managed to pull himself away to begin building a pyre. The younger brother had it over half done. Preparing to give you a hunter's funeral. It felt more right. You had never been scared of fire.

Dean carried your body to the pile; kissing the cold forehead as he'd set you up on the wooden stand. When he'd pulled away, he willed you to move. Anything to tell him it was all a bad dream. That he was making a mistake.

There was nothing. With a defeated sigh, he stepped back. A small crack sounded, making him jerk down to the noise. Your phone rested on the ground, underneath his boot.

You'd never felt the need for that kind of privacy a password offered. He swiped the screen. Preparing to shut it off. Only, the sight of a sending message caught his attention.

An audio file glared up at him. Daring him to listen. Slowly, he pressed play. Raising it to his ear.

“Dean...I don't know if I have much time left,” Your voice shook into the phone's speaker. Dean looked over to the pile your covered body rested in. Forcing himself to remember that he wasn't hearing you in that moment. “I shouldn't be talking... It uses the air faster...I...I know that.” The broken edge that followed let him know that you were crying. “But, I'm getting tired...” He swallowed tightly; his eyes beginning to water at the anguish he was hearing. Dean had thought he'd been out of tears. He'd never been more wrong. “And I'm scared...” He'd known you would have been. But, hearing the words tore through him even more. “So...so scared.” A sniffle followed, “It's okay, though...” You swallowed tightly, trying to compose yourself. “Because...I know...I know this means...means that you're safe. He didn't get to you, first.” A weak laugh left your lips. As if that made everything alright, again. “And I know you won't be alone.” A thud sounded as your elbow hit the lid. He could picture you trying to wipe away the tears. His heart squeezed at the message. “Sammy's home, now.” The shakiness as you fought to remain strong was apparent. Not for yourself. But, for him. “He'll stay with you...If...If he doesn't, I'll haunt him. Burned body be damned.” You coughed, then. The air thickening the more you talked. There must have been some fight left in you. The beating of your fists could be heard before another sob, and a broken cry escaped. He hated the sound of it, but clung to the fact that you hadn't been completely resigned to your fate. You had been strong. If only it had been enough. “I just...I love you, okay?” You came back to your senses, for a moment. Remembering your mission. “I know...I know I say it a lot...but, I needed you to hear it right...right now.” Another sniff left you as you repressed the tears for a moment longer. “This isn't your fault, Dean...this...I'm...I'm okay with...with this being it...if..if it is.” Your final, gasping words that he'd ever hear had him dropping to his knees, “You're not alone, Dean...You're not...not gonna be all alone. I promise...That's what matters, alright? You're...you're not alone.”

The message ended, then. Leaving him to realize that your biggest fear hadn't truly been being buried alive, after all. You'd been trapped in that coffin. Facing the thing that you had claimed to be the one thing you couldn't handle. But, in the end? It had been something much deeper.

Your biggest fear had been that Dean would be, or feel, all alone. And have to face what you'd both been terrified of with it. The thing that he hadn't realized? His biggest fear hadn't truly been being alone. It had simply been being without you...

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon @supernaturalginger

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charlieswan-squad · 4 years

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Twilight Rewrite First Sight (ii)

Thick fog was all I could see out my window in the morning, and I could feel the claustrophobia creeping up on me. You could never see the sky here; it was like a prison cage, that after sixteen years was finally locking me in.

Breakfast with Charlie was a quiet event. He wished me good luck at school. I thanked him, knowing his hope was wasted optimism. Good luck tended to avoid me. Charlie left first, off to the police station that was his wife and family. After he left, I sat at the old square oak table in one of the three unmatching chairs and examined the familiar kitchen, with its dark paneled walls, bright yellow cabinets, and white linoleum floor. Nothing had changed. My mother had painted the cabinets eighteen years ago in an attempt to bring some sunshine into the house.

Over the small fireplace in the adjoining handkerchief-sized family room was a row of pictures. First a wedding picture of Charlie and my mom in Las Vegas, then one of the three of us in the hospital after I was born, taken by a helpful nurse, followed by the procession of my school pictures up to last year's. Those were embarrassing to look at; missing front teeth, the horrendous haircuts, the braces - I would have to see what I could do to get Charlie to put them somewhere else, at least while I was living here. It was impossible, being in this house, not to realise that Charlie had never gotten over my mom. It made me uncomfortable.

I didn't want to be too early to school, but I couldn't stay in the house anymore. I donned my jacket - thick and unbreathing like a biohazard suit - and headed out into the rain.

It was just drizzling still, not enough to soak me through immediately as I reached for the house key that was always hidden under the eaves by the door, and locked up. Only in a town like Forks, would it be normal for the chief of police to keep his house key in such an obvious place. The sloshing of my new waterproof boots was unnerving. I missed the normal crunch of gravel as I walked. I couldn't pause and admire my truck again as I wanted; I was in a hurry to get out of the misty wet that swirled around my head and clung to my hair under my hood.

Inside the truck, it was nice and dry. Either Billy or Charlie had obviously cleaned it up, but the tan upholstered seats still smelled faintly of tobacco, gasoline, and peppermint. It was a strange combination, but not totally unpleasant. The engine started quickly, to my relief, but loudly, roaring to life and then idling at top volume. Well, a truck this old was bound to have a flaw. The antique radio worked, a bonus that I hadn't expected.

Finding the school wasn't difficult, though I'd never been there before. The school was, like most other things, just off the highway. It was not obvious that it was a school; only the sign, which declared it to be the Forks High School, made me stop. It looked like a collection of matching houses, built with maroon-coloured bricks. There were so many trees and shrubs I couldn't see its size at first. Where was the feel of the institution? I wondered nostalgically. Where were the chain-link fences, the metal

detectors? You know, all the homely aspects of a school in a city like Phoenix.

I parked in front of the first building, which had a small sign over the door reading Front Office. No one else was parked there, so I was sure it was off limits, but I decided I would get directions inside instead of circling around in the rain like an idiot. I stepped unwillingly out of the toasty truck cab and walked down a little stone path lined with dark hedges. I took a deep breath before opening the door.

Inside, it was brightly lit, and warmer than I'd hoped. The office was small; a little waiting area with padded folding chairs, orange-flecked commercial carpet, notices and awards cluttering the walls, a big clock ticking loudly. Plants grew everywhere in large plastic pots, as if there wasn't enough greenery outside. The room was cut in half by a long counter, cluttered with wire baskets full of papers and brightly colored flyers taped to its front. There were three desks behind the counter, one of which was manned by a large, friendly-looking woman wearing glasses. She was wearing an orange t-shirt, which immediately made me feel overdressed.

The woman looked up. "Can I help you?"

"I'm Bella Swan," I informed her, and saw the immediate awareness light her eyes. I was expected, a topic of gossip no doubt. The Chief's daughter, the one with the unstable mom, come home at last.

"Of course," she said. She dug through a precariously stacked pile of documents on her desk till she found the ones she was looking for. "I have your schedule right here, and a map of the school, Isabella." She brought several sheets to the counter to show me.

“Um, it’s Bella, please.”

“Oh, sure, Bella.”

She went through my classes for me, highlighting the best route to each on the map, and gave me a slip to have each teacher sign, which I was to bring back at the end of the day. She smiled at me and hoped, like Charlie, that I would like it here in Forks. I smiled back as convincingly as I could.

When I went back out to my truck, other students were starting to arrive. I drove around the school, following the line of traffic. I was glad to see that most of the cars were older like mine, nothing flashy. At home I'd lived in one of the few lower-income neighborhoods that were included in the Paradise Valley District. It was a common thing to see a new Mercedes or Porsche in the student lot. The nicest car here was a shiny Volvo, and it stood out. Still, I cut the engine as soon as I was in a spot, so that the thunderous volume wouldn't draw attention to me.

I looked at the map in the truck, trying to memorise it now; determined I wouldn't have to walk around with it stuck in front of my nose all day. I stuffed everything in my bag, slung the strap over my shoulder, and sucked in a huge breath. It won’t be that bad, I lied to myself feebly. Seriously Bella, it’s just high school, it wasn’t like anyone was going to bite me. I finally exhaled and stepped out of the truck.

I kept my face pulled back into my hood as I walked to the sidewalk, crowded with teenagers. My plain black jacket didn't stand out, I noticed with relief.

Once I got around the cafeteria, building three was easy to spot. A large black "3" was painted on a white square on the east corner. I felt my breathing gradually creeping toward hyperventilation as I approached the door. I tried holding my breath as I followed two unisex raincoats through the door.

The classroom was small. The people in front of me stopped just inside the door to hang up their coats on a long row of hooks. I copied them. They were two girls, one a porcelain-colored blonde, the other also pale, with light brown hair. At least my skin wouldn't be a standout here.

I took the slip up to the teacher, a tall, balding man whose desk had a nameplate identifying him as Mr. Mason. He gawked at me when he saw my name - not a particularly encouraging response - and of course I felt blood rush to my cheeks. But at least he sent me to an empty desk at the back without introducing me to the class. It was harder for my new classmates to stare at me in the back, but somehow, they managed.

I kept my eyes down on the reading list the teacher had given me. It was fairly basic: Bronte, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Faulkner. I'd already read everything. That was comforting… and boring. I wondered if my mom would send me my folder of old essays, or if she would think that was cheating. I went through different arguments with her in my head while the teacher droned on.

When the bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound, a gangly boy with skin problems and hair black as an oil slick leaned across the aisle to talk to me.

"You're Isabella Swan, aren't you?" He looked like the overly helpful, chess club type.

"Bella," I corrected. Everyone within a three-seat radius turned to look at me.

"Where's your next class?" he asked.

I had to check in my bag. "Um, Government, with Jefferson, in building six."

There was nowhere to look without meeting curious eyes. I wondered if this is how animals felt in the zoo.

"I'm headed toward building four, I could show you the way…" Definitely over-helpful. "I'm Eric," he added.

I forced a smile. "Thanks Eric."

We got our jackets and headed out into the rain, which had picked up. Several people seemed to be walking too close behind us - like they were trying to eavesdrop or something. I hoped I wasn’t becoming paranoid.

"So, this is a lot different than Phoenix, huh?" he asked.

"Very.”

"It doesn't rain much there, does it?”

"Three or four times a year."

"Wow, what must that be like?" he wondered.

"Sunny," I told him.

"You don't particularly look like you grew up in the sunshine." he laughed; most likely referring to the fact that I don’t even have freckles, or that, despite the rain, I wasn’t in shorts and flipflops with a baseball cap or something. I never did fit any of the Arizona-stereotypes.

"Well, you know what they say about vampires."

He studied my face apprehensively, and I stifled a groan. It looked like clouds and a sense of humour didn't mix. A few months of this and I'd forget how to use sarcasm.

“I’m joking, Eric.”

He began to laugh too loudly and forcefully to be real. I could still read the confusion in his eyes, suggesting he didn’t understand my joke, but at least he hadn’t run away screaming that the new girl is a freak. Just give it time.

We walked back around the cafeteria, to the south buildings by the gym. Eric walked me right to the door, though it was clearly marked.

"Well, good luck," he said as I touched the handle. "Maybe we'll have some other classes together." He sounded hopeful.

I smiled at him, in what I hoped was not an encouraging way and went inside.

The rest of the morning passed in much the same way. My Trigonometry teacher, Mr. Varner, who I would have hated anyway just because of the subject he taught, was the only one who made me stand in front of the class and introduce myself. I stammered, blushed, and tripped over my own feet on the way to my seat.

“Nailed it.” I thought snarkily.

After two classes, I started to recognise several of the faces in each class. There was always someone braver than the others who would introduce themselves and ask me questions about how I was liking Forks. I tried to be diplomatic, but mostly I just lied a lot. At least I never needed the map.

Every one of my teachers called me Isabella, and though I corrected them immediately, it was depressing. I had decided at the age of three that I was Bella, and had refused to answer to anything else until Mom and Charlie got the message. At home, no one remembered that Bella was just a nickname; but now I had to start over again.

One girl sat next to me in both Trig and Spanish, and she walked with me to the canteen for lunch. She was tiny, several inches shorter than my average height, but her hair was pulled into a very tight ponytail on the top of her head which made up a lot of the difference between our heights. I couldn't remember her name, so I smiled and nodded as she rattled about teachers and classes and what gossip I had to catch up on. I barely listened let alone try to keep up.

We sat at the end of a full table with several of her friends, who she introduced to me. I forgot all their names as soon as she spoke them. At least I couldn’t complain about the manners here. They all seemed to think it was really cool and brave of her to invite me. Eric, the boy from English, waved at me from across the room, and my neighbours all laughed. I thought it must be a new record for me, already the butt of a joke. But none of them seemed nasty about it. That was something at least.

It was there, sitting in the canteen, attempting to make conversation with a bunch of strangers, that I first saw them. I was surprised it had taken me so long to notice them.

#twilight rewrite #charlieswan-squad #first sight #first sight part two #twilight #new moon #eclipse #breaking dawn

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hearteyes-for-killmonger · 5 years

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Open Auditions

It's time for Kiwonna to lose her virginity (an outdated concept, but regardless). She must choose between a handful of prescreened guys chosen by her friends. One of them will get the job done. LIGHT Smut included.

🍒

In the rented hotel conference room, Kiwonna East sat front and center on a panel consisting of the most precious and valued opinions in her life. Four women surrounded her in a semicircle: Tera, Nikki, Gericka, and Ash, each dressed immaculately to their own taste and aesthetic. Kiwonna, herself, sat casually in a black tube top, tight leather leggings and Nike SF Air Force 1’s.. black and green. She slouched in her chair, elbows resting on her thighs. Her anxiety as the center of attention was cautiously hidden in a facade of disinterest.

“You'll be fine, Ki,” Tera soothed with an earnest expression. She sat at the right hand, close enough to rub the relaxed tension from Kiwonna's back. “It's not like you're auditioning a husband, just a guy to lose your virginity to. We've done the screening and the health tests, you just say yes if he's cute or no if he's ugly.”

“If I see a cute one and we make eyes, I'm taking him.. If you pass. Just so everyone knows,” Nikki added from Kiwonna's left hand before waving to her door, her golden bangles clinking together. “Tiff! Send in the penis parade.” The door opened and a sixth woman with a tall mass of bountiful curls opened the door letting in the first man.

Bosso

He was about 6'2 with deep and clear skin, close cut hair, and striking high cheekbones. His septum piercing added to his appeal. "This is my choice," Nikki announced proudly.

“What’s your name, where are you from, and are you a model,” Gericka asked clicking her pen, clipboard in hand.

“Bosso from Canada and yes, I am,” he spoke with confidence.

“Why should we choose you,” Tera glared, her own clipboard in hand.

“Why not? I'm a decent guy, respectful and honest. I wouldn't dip Immediately after and I'm actually very interesting.”

“None of what you said relates to our precious Kiwonna, but let us deliberate.” Tera turned toward the panel who leaned in closer together.

“What do you think," Gericka whispered looking to Kiwonna. She shook her head, no. That was all the deliberation they needed. Bosso had to go.

"NEXT," Ash yelled pointing to the door as Tiff escorted Bosso out, ushering in man #2.

Glory

"Oh hell no," Nikki deadpanned when the older gentleman strolled in. He was attractive for a man his age, but he must've been on the tail-end of his 50s... at least. "Who let this nigga in.. Tiff? Sis?"

"Don't blame me, blame Ash," Tiff flailed pointing at the the shifty-eyed woman with the wavy high ponytail.

"WHAT? An older guy will know what he's doing and make sure she gets hers! It's ONE TIME! Besides, he's cute. I don't care 'bout no salt n' pepper." Ash crossed her arms in a pout causing the others to sigh.

Kiwonna cackled. "What's your name, sir," she asked the older man who stood patiently, confident and unphased by the jokes.

"They call me many names, sweetheart, but Glory is what I prefer. My lovemaking might make you shed a tear. Get ready because King Kong ain't got shit on me." His lip quivered when Ash winked in his direction with a lustful eye. Kiwonna was nearly on the floor, her features twisted in heaving laughter. Nikki and Gericka weren't much better, slapping their knees obnoxiously. "Tick tock, tick tock," the man said. "I'm putting dick into all. you. bitches." The room was sputtering chaos.

"No deliberation necessary, issa NO," Tera spoke over the laughter. "He goes to Ash. Take him out! Tiff. NEXT," she yelled.

T'Challa

A tall 6'0 man entered the room with facial hair, a black and white striped shirt, and black pants tucked into clunky black boots. There was a subtle flash from the studs in his ears and the small diamond bracelet on his arm. There was also a dip in his walk that only the realest of niggas possessed. He stood in the center of the room with relaxed shoulders and a quiet cockiness. His posture read arrogance and pride, but his gentle eyes moved over each woman in humble greeting. "Greetings, I am T'Challa and I'd be honored to assist your friend in her sexual debut.. I have much experience and I've yet to disappoint..," he smiled. "I assure you, she will be in sturdy hands."

Gericka swooned, her clipboard forgotten. "This is my choice. He'd be perfect. I mean.. look at him. And that accent! Please pick him. T'Challa, if she doesn't pick you, I'll pick you myself!" He shrugged with a humble grin.

"Let's deliberate," Tera said leaning in closer to the group. "Best one so far. I like him," she whispered.

"Yeah, I like him," Nikki agreed.

Ash pursed her lips. "I don't know, I don't think he's Ki's type. He's way too cleancut. I wanna slip him a dibba-dab of cocaine and maybe--"

"NO," Tera and Nikki yelled in unison causing Ash to pout again.

"..It's like Ash said, he's just missing something," Kiwonna shrugged.

"We'll hold on to you, T'Challa. You definitely have one admirer," Tera spoke and Tiff escorted him out. "Tiffany?... Bring my guy," Tera smiled suspiciously causing the other women to carefully watch her and the door.

Erik

A 6'0 dread-headed man sauntered into the room with a dip intriguingly similar the previous bachelor. He wore retro Jordan 12s with grey sweatpants, a white tee, and a lightwash denim jacket. He also held a red solo cup that he sipped from, his wild locs pointing in every direction, standing as if starched. A low-swinging print pressing through the sweats drew every eye in the room.

"HEEELLL NO THE FUCK NOT! NOT HIM, HE'LL KILL HER! SEND HIM BACK," Ash screeched standing to walk toward the man and push him back to the door herself.

"SO! MAYBE SHE NEED HER SPINE BROKE," Tiff combated blocking the exit. As Ash pushed Erik with all her might, Tiff pushed back. The man easily turned, sliding Ash to the side before he walked back to the center of the room and drained his cup with a finishing belch, holding the cup out for anyone to take. Tiff stepped forward, giving it a tentative sniff before taking it to a trash can outside of the room. Straight Hennessy. Kiwonna shifted in her seat, her eyes glued to the man before her. She sat up straight, adjusting her posture to something she hoped was more appealing.

"Uh oh," Tera grinned. This was the one.

"What's your name, where are you from, and why should we choose you," Nikki grilled, her eyes intense. He was undoubtedly handsome, but that didn't impress her.

He looked at an imaginary presence as if there was a joke that no one else was comprehending. His sharp eyes penetrated directly through Nikki's venom. "You ain't gotta choose me. She already chose."

"That doesn't tell us what your name is and where you're from," Nikki pressed.

"Yeah! Buff ass.. plantain dick nigga! Answer the question," Ash snapped pushing up on him. He scoffed, not budging a centimeter despite Ash's energy.

"Fuck that shit," he said speaking directly to Kiwonna as she sat enamored. "You. Come here," he pointed to the empty spot in front of him. Kiwonna moved without a second thought causing Tera to clap and cackle.

"Yes, Ki! See, I know my baby," she bragged sticking her tongue out gleefully at the others.

Erik's arm snapped around Kiwonna's waist pulling her nearer as he examined her more closely, his forehead lowering to hers to search her dark orbs for answers. "What you like? You into specific shit or you want me to handle it how I see fit?"

"It's all you, just be easy because I haven't done this before," she said simply, leaving it open and in his hands. His arm moved around her shoulder as he began walking her to the door, eyes on Tiff. She stepped aside. "We got a room," Kiwonna said leading Erik to the elevator. He followed her lead silently. She couldn't keep her eyes off of him and he was definitely eye-fucking her as the elevator rose to the 12th floor. Leading him by the hand to the door, she appreciated his rough hands with her fingertips. Finally, they crossed the threshold into the room and door clicked closed. Erik didn't move, waiting for Kiwonna to initiate. "Sooo," she drawled stepping closer to him.

"Just making sure you still with the shits," she shrugged meeting her action. He stripped off his shirt exposing the pattern of small dotted keloids covering his entire torso and toed off his Jordans leaving them and his sweats on the floor, squaring his broad shoulders in wait. He'd came with no draws, just free-hanging dick. When Ki didn't get the memo, he pointed. "You not gone fuck me with clothes on."

Snapped from her daze of admiration, she sat on the bed pulling off her Nike boots before standing to wriggle out of her skintight leather leggings. The tube top was next, followed by her socks and underwear. "I'm ready," she perked.

"You one of them goofy bitches ain't you," he smiled raising a brow. "Lay down on your back and get comfortable."

"You just got a bigass dick and I'm nervous," she admitted, settling on the bed with her legs parted. He immediately began stroking himself to the sight of her body, moving to the foot of the bed.

"I know what I'm doing... Alright?... Let me do me." Wrapping his hands around her ankles, he yanked her ass to the foot of the bed where his pelvis was. "Hold your legs back.. higher. That's as far back as they go? Aight, we'll work with that." He dropped to his knees and separated her lower lips to peer inside and study his target. The air and manipulation stimulated her. His fingers started getting wet and sticky just from the inspection and he trailed his index through her wetness, collecting it and briefly sniffing it before plopping it into his mouth.

The sniff test didn't bother Ki because she was good.. and as she felt his long tongue sliding over her folds, she could attest that his tongue was just as good. She could hear Tera's voice in her mind cheering her on as she laid on the bed, legs splayed wide. His head bobbed, his tongue dipping in and out of her entrance before flattening and dragging up to her clit where he sucked a soft moan out it. She was already slipping under the spell of his tongue.

🍒

"Y'all think she's okay," Gericka asked waking up her phone. It'd been an hour and no one had gone to check on her.. yet.

"Give them another ten minutes and we'll check," Tiff said biting a hot wing from one of the boxes they were sharing."

"Then I'll go check," Tera stressed territorially. No one argued.

🍒

"Ki, you okay hun," Tera asked rapping at the door. When she didn't answer, Tera grabbed her room key seconds away from sliding it. The door popped open before she could and it was Erik, still butt naked, his dick semi-hard. "Shh," he mouthed and Tera treaded slowly to the bed when she saw the sleeping Kiwonna, passed out on her stomach with her bare rear still in the air. To be safe, Tera checked her pulse. It was normal, but the girl didn't move. "Poor baby tuckered out. What happened?"

"Watchu mean what happened? I fucked her to sleep," he whispered.

"How many rounds did y'all go? Did she cu--" Tera stopped short noticing the large puddle on the bed and the slight muscle spasm in Kiwonna's thigh.

"Like I said," Erik nodded unwilling to give anymore information. He wiped his dick on a washcloth snatched from the bathroom and bent to pick up his clothes to redress. "Ask her if you need to know the details. I don't discuss shit like that," he said adjusting his denim jacket on his shoulders. Walking out into the hall, he looked back catching Tera's attention. "...You... might wanna.. wipe her down... She still got some of my nut dripping out on her leg."

@whoramilaje @panthergoddessbast @thehomierobbstark @itsangeludaku @blackpantherismyish @trevantesbrat @vikkidc @amethyst1993 @allhailnjadaka @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @iamrheaspeaks @thadelightfulone @raysunshine78 @fonville-designs @youreadthatright @drsunshine97 @bakarisangel @bakaris-shorty

#erik killmonger #original #erik stevens #killmonger #erik killmonger fanfiction #erik killmonger imagines #erik killmonger imagine #erik stevens au #erik killmonger smut #killmonger smut

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sabraeal · 5 years

Text

He Who Studies Evil [Part 1/4]

A prequel to Wanting Is More Pleasurable Than Having (And Other Things Vulcans Don’t Know a Damned Thing About), written for @bubblesthemonsterartist for her for birthday. I’m already sorry about how unlivable she’s going to be now since she’s getting a 10K multichapter.

It would be no surprise to any of Haruka’s crew that their captain had placed at the top of his class at the academy. Valedictorian, though he’d declined to speak at graduation. There had been other, more popular options for them to pursue, and even then he had known -- his place wasn’t in the spotlight. It was just to the left, seated with the others graduating with honor, watching the real star burn brightly on the stage.

Ah, well. A man didn’t reach his age without a few regrets.

In all his time at the academy, he’d built a reputation for himself; not as the one with the highest test scores -- though he had those as well -- or the one with the best flight rating, but instead as the youngest cadet to ever memorize the whole of Starfleet’s General Orders and Regulations, able to cite them nearly verbatim by the end of his first year. It had not been a choice that made him popular with his classmates, especially not those who shared his ethics seminars, but it had prepared him well for the rest of his student career. There was no text an instructor could assign that was more dry, more boring than the rules that governed Starfleet, and even when every other cadet struggled with the coursework, he had forged ahead, remembering how many times he had nearly fell asleep when trying to memorize the uniform regulations for species with more than four appendages.

Which is why there is no reason at all for him to be stuck like this, rereading the same three sentences in a work of fiction.

“Captain?”

The book snaps shut; it annoys him to note that it is a satisfying noise, as he’d been told it would be.

“Ensign Sui,” he intones ponderously, enjoying how it makes the boy straighten in his uniform. He’s from a good family, Starfleet for generations, but he’s a bit meeker than the academy usually mills out; one of their many prodigy students that probably graduated a bit too early for their own good.

That’s why he’d taken him in: good stock, plenty of promise, only needing a firm hand to help him up to captainship. In a few decades, of course. The boy’s practically shivering in excitement just from being able to fly the runabout.

“Zakura says we’ll be docking soon. We’re just waiting for the Cardassians to clear us.”

Haruka leans, just slightly, catching the dark head in the runabout’s cockpit. Ensign Shidnote, soon to be Lieutenant Junior Grade if he can keep on the straight and narrow. Which he had, so far as he had seen. Quiet boy, a little older than Sui, but dependable. And his flight scores weren’t anything to sniff at either.

“Well, that will take an age.” He gives the boy a tight smile. “You two best get comfortable up there. This sort of position jockeying is how little dogs show their bite.”

He settles back, bench creaking beneath him, and Haruka casts a wary glance at the novel in his hand. The thing is as thick as three fingers, and he hadn’t bothered to mark his place --

Ah, it can’t matter too much, can it? Not with a story like this.

“Is it good?”

His head jerks up, finding Sui lingering just at the edge of the seating, awkward. “Pardon?”

“The book you’re reading,” the boy clarifies, looking like he might break into a sweat just attempting this conversation. “Is it good, sir?”

He’s been at this job long enough to know that saying the answer just at the tip of his tongue would be a mistake. “It’s very...different,” he settles for, instead. The diplomatic thing would be to lie, he knows, but he’s made his career on being earnest, on saying the thing that needs to be said whether it is politik or no. “Have you ever read a repetitive epic, Ensign?”

His grimace says more about its appeal than words ever could. “Ah, I can’t say I--”

The comm chirps on the runabout’s console, loud even outside the cockpit. Ensign Shidnote is the one to take it, his shaggy head bending, hand pressed to his ear. It’s only because he’s watching that Haruka sees it, that sudden stiffness in his shoulders, as if someone replaced them with a single, metal rod.

“Understood,” he says, terse. “Captain, there’s a call for you. From Starfleet Command.”

Haruka rocks to his feet, hard as if the gravity on the shuttle heavy as the air on Vulcan, and he gives the boy a nod. “Put it through.”

“Yes, sir.” Shidnote throws a surreptitious glance at his copilot. “Hey, Sui, I think it’s time we handled that thing in cargo now.”

The boy blinks, guileless. “The thing in cargo? But there’s nothing in there but--?”

Shidnote huffs out a breath, annoyed. “No, Sui. The thing. Remember?”

Haruka’s heard reports from Security about Ensign Shidnote; he’s a non-traditional recruit, only just joined a few years before and hurried through the courses on his last ship, no time at the academy at all --

And he’s a natural at subtlety. A good thing, since he needs to be subtle for two with Sui around.

The ensign’s gaze flickers over to Haruka, then to Shidnote, and back again before he manages, “Oh yes. The thing. The thing in cargo, which is not here.”

The expression Shidnote wears could only be termed long-suffering. Someone would be earning that promotion to junior grade just from this shuttle ride alone. “Yes. That.”

“Don’t take long,” Haruka tells them, settling into the pilot’s chair. “We’ll be docking whenever the Cardassians see fit to give us clearance, remember.”

“Be sure to let us know when that happens, sir,” Shidnote says, a little more wry than Haruka would call good for his career. Maybe it’s not such a surprise he’s been stuck at ensign for this long, if he’s this well acquainted with sarcasm in front of his superiors. “We’ll come running.”

Left alone, it’s easy to hear the soft creaking of the shuttle, the soft whirring of its systems. It’s both comforting and unsettling, a reminder that for all the Federation’s shine and chrome, only a few access panels and life support keep him from feeling the crushing vacuum of space.

Haruka shakes himself. He’s stalling.

With a flick of his wrist, Kain’s grim face resolves on the screen, his square jaw and precision-cut hair saying Starfleet Command more than any of his pips could. It’s only been weeks since he last saw him, but already there’s more white at his temples, the burnished gold of his hair ceding to time.

“Haruka!” Kain’s face is transformed when he smiles, no longer the grave Commander-in-Chief, but instead the popular, carefree young man he had known at the academy. The one who had so easily winnowed notes out of him after staying up all night, flirting with the female cadets at the bars off-campus; the one who he had so easily given up his speaking spot to, when the faculty had offered it to him. “It’s good to see you’ve reached neutral space intact.”

The camera adjusts, and then a fairer face resolves next to his, her mouth smiling yet tense. It’s been years since the academy, but to his eyes, Haruto Wisteria has hardly aged a day.

His fingers curl tightly around the book, the cover digging sharply into his fingers. If only that speech had been only thing he’d given up for Kain.

“Thus far,” he replies, mouth ticking up into as much of a smile as he ever allows. “We’re still waiting for clearance to dock. Plenty of time for accidents to happen.”

“I wouldn’t expect it.” Haruto’s voice is as clear across the light years as it has ever been, eyes bright as they meet his. “The Obsidian Order has doubtlessly been giving you a...quiet escort since you crossed out of Federation space. To avoid any...misfortune.”

She is right, of course, but he can’t help but add, “Or assure it.”

“The Union doesn’t allow the Order any vessels,” Kain tells them, mouth pulled thin. Haruto glances at him, pointed, but he knows better than to look back, to give any sort of hint of conspiracy or mocking. Kain is cross enough as it is. “And even if they did, they’d be dogging you coattails, trying to keep you from even getting a ding on that hull. The Cardassians have put up a good fight, but they’re stretched thin, not matter what the Union wants to believe. They need this deal to go through.”

He nods. “I’ll keep that in mind, sir.”

“Make no mistake, we need this too, Haruka.” Kain fixes him with a heavy look. He doesn’t know what’s happening back on Earth, but it’s left both Starfleet’s commander and one of the Federation’s most prominent Senators looking tense. Too much so for comfort. “The Federation is eager to end hostilities with Cardassia. We’re by no means as pressed as they are, but there’s no need to be wasting the resources we are on a sector with no strategic advantage.”

And they were willing to sacrifice Bajor to do it. No wonder they weren’t sending Bergatt on this one -- he was the obvious choice for a flex of their military might, the perfect presence to force Cardassia to stand down after the admiral spear-headed the defense at the border, but --

It makes sense now, why they would pick him, a man who had never seen a Cardassian in anything more realistic than a holodeck module. He was supposed to be neutral, unaffected by sentiment. He wasn’t supposed to care what the Cardassians did with the Bajorans, just as long as the Federation got to withdraw their forces.

He looks up, meeting Haruto’s steady gaze, a message heavy in her eyes.

Maybe that’s just what the Federation wants Starfleet to think. “Of course.”

“We have ‘em on the ropes,” Kain pushes, miming the fight with his fists. “You just have to make sure we don’t get screwed in the deal. Just--”

A chime sounds over the link, and all at once the humor falls from Kain’s face, leaving only harsh, forbidding grimness behind.

“Excuse me, Haruka. It seemed something else has come up.” He lets out a long sigh. “Well, I trust my wife can impress the importance of the situation on you, if I haven’t already.”

“I do have a reputation for being quite convincing, when I want to be,” she reminds him, smiling up with a doting expression. Haruka wishes he didn’t know her so well, that he couldn’t tell just how much of this was an act, a performance of appeasement for a man who could suffer no fault.

“I’ve always found that to be so,” he offers, letting his tone take more of a point than he would normally dare. A lesser woman would have looked alarmed, but Haruto only turns her head, just so, so that he may read her reproach on every feature.

Kain’s far too distracted to notice, just as he’d thought. “Good. I’ll leave it to you, then.”

The door swishes shut, and there he is, as alone as a man can be on a runabout with two ensigns valiantly pretending they can’t hear a conversation only one wall away with her. Even after all this time, it still feels too intimate, too dangerous.

She smiles, and it’s too warm, too much. “Hello, Commander. It’s be a while, hasn’t it?”

“I’ll try not to cause any interplanetary incidents while I’m there,” he assures her. “You don’t need to remind me, Councilor.”

“I would never presume,” she hums primly. “How are you enjoying the gift I sent you?”

His eyes dart down, staring at the blue cloth cover, and he tries to estimate how much of this story he could probably guess at, if she asked. “It’s certainly...interesting.”

“The Never-Ending Sacrifice is considered the pinnacle of classic Cardassian literature.” He remembers this tone, the one she would take teaching one of her classes, back when that was what she did, instead of -- this. “It’s the quintessential repetitive epic.”

“It certainly is repetitive.” He must be getting used to all this diplomacy claptrap, if he could say that with a straight face.

Haruto’s mouth breaks into a wide smile, a real one. Ah, how he wishes he couldn’t tell. “I always did prefer the enigma tales, myself.”

He looks at her, taking in the innocence of her face, even now all these years later, as if she’s hardly aged a day since he was nineteen -- and he knows what a cunning mind lays underneath. A secret few do, and none of them her husband. “You don’t say.”

Her mouth curls with the barest amusement, only a hint of the sly woman that lies beneath. “I do hope, at least, that it had given you some perspective on the philosophy of Cardassia.”

“Some,” he agrees, though they cannot possibly be as dull a people as this confounding novel suggests. “It is clear how duty to family was so easily conflated with duty to the state after the Union was formed. You only need to replace every instance of ‘obey the elders’ with ‘obey the state,’ and you have an accurate summary Cardassian current affairs.”

“Mm.” Her mouth tilts, wry. “But I would refrain from such observations while you’re with your most generous hosts.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “I doubt we’ll have much time to exchange philosophy, Councilor.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” she warns him. “Cardassian culture views mealtimes as the perfect opportunity to exchange opinions, and doubtlessly they are interested on your views of them.”

“Of course.” He lets out a bitter laugh. “A bigot is easier to fool than a wise man.”

She inclines her head, pleasure sparking in her eyes. “As you say.”

A silence falls between them, and it’s far too comfortable, too nostalgic to let sit.

“I was, however, surprised about the devotion to children.” His fingers drum on the book’s cover, trying to cover his nerves. “The children are our future. Not something I had expected to see out of the Union.”

“They don’t give off that air of proud parents, do they?” Her mouth tilts with amusement. “It’s funny how you can be fooled by something like...”

She hesitates, and for a moment he sees her unsure, nearly nervous. “Haruka, we must -- we must talk about something else.”

He arches a brow. “Yes, Councilor?”

“No, not as -- not in our professional capacity.” She sends an uncertain glance toward the door. “I must talk to you in confidence.”

His heart pounds. He’s not -- he’s not ready for a conversation like this, for his suspicions to be confirmed when he is so far away, about to undertake a task with such importance.

“Of course,” he says even so, too eager. He will always be weak for her. “Whatever you need of me.”

She inches closer to the screen, until all he can see is her face, until all he can see is the worry in her eyes.

“There are rumors,” she breathes, eyes pleading, “that there is a member of the Federation incarcerated on that station.”

He blinks. Of all the things he thought she might tell him... “Terok Nor? It’s just a refinery station, convenient to get to, but not -- not a military installation.”

She nods. “That is what the Federation has heard as well. However, it also seems to have other...duties that it sees to, being so close to Bajor.”

He wouldn’t doubt it; from what he’d read, the Cardassians were pragmatic about such things. No need to ship pesky rebels far from home to torture them, not when an abattoir was in every home.

Haruka shakes his head. It wouldn’t do to think of them in unflattering hyperbole, not when he would be spending the next foreseeable forever ironing out an armistice everyone was eager to have, but reluctant to compromise for.

“I’m not sure what you think I can do,” he says instead. “Prisoners of war are not--”

“No, not a prisoner of war.” She raises a hand to brush back hair that has come loose, and he can see how it shakes. “It is a child.”

There might as well not be air in this runabout. A child. A Federation child. “I’m sure that can’t be true,” he hears himself saying. “Not when they revere children above all else--”

“Cardassian children.” There is something terrifying in her now, ruthless. “And what would you do to an enemy’s child, if you truly believed they were their future?”

He has never heard her be so forthright, so dire, but he cannot deny that her words make a frightening sort of sense. If each child was a priceless treasure to the Union, then to deny them to their enemies was --

Was unthinkable.

“Please, Haruka.” It has been so long since she’s spoken to him in that tone, since they stood outside the academy as she said, please understand. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but only -- only keep your ears open. I don’t know how accurate our intel is in Cardassian space but -- just in case.”

He lets out a long breath, but the tension in his chest stays, choking his lungs, his heart.

“What did I say, Haruto?” The name feels strange in his mouth, and it’s only then he realizes how long it has been since he’s said it, since it’s been safe to. “I will do whatever you need of me.”

#akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #He Who Studies Evil #star trek AU #my fic #ans #this thing ended up being like...almost 10K long in the second draft #so it's been split up into nice bite sized pieces #that i'll post over the next few weeks #it is both haruka and obi backstory fic #and then Zakura and Sui came along for the ride #if you all aren't familiar with the reputation of the Cardassians #please be buckled up for some talk about torture #and occupation politics

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saltylikecrait · 5 years

Text

The Rescue - Finn/Rey

For this week’s @finnreyfridays - a adventure oneshot for you all.

This one is a little long and can also be read on AO3 here.

Maybe it wasn’t the best plan, and Finn would admit it probably wasn’t, but Rey was being held captive by the First Order and while the Resistance assured him that she was a top priority, he just needed to her to be safe.

You could say his panicked mind wasn’t thinking logically; it reminded him a little like how he was feeling and thinking back on Starkiller when he volunteered for the Resistance with a promise to destroy the weapon, only that his real intention was to get Rey out. That mission turned out fine in the end, other than the fact he returned with one less companion and with a lightsaber slash down his back and in a coma. Starkiller had been destroyed, at least, though it brought some of the Resistance to revere Finn as a hero even though he didn't think he deserved the title. Had he thought the mission would be a failure – and a lot had gone wrong – Finn would have found Rey and convince her to abandon ship with him. He did not think she would protest too much after all she went through and she seemed so exhausted after she returned from finding Luke Skywalker.

She told no one for weeks about the detour she made to the Supremacy before she arrived on Crait, least of all, Finn. While he knew Leia seemed to know in her own mysterious way of the gist of what happened and why Rey returned with a broken lightsaber, Finn couldn’t help but feel disappointed in her. She didn’t exactly lie to him, but omitting the details could count as a lie.

Eventually, she fessed up, once the entire Resistance was given alarm over the fact that the First Order announced a bounty on her, their propaganda calling her a murderer for killing their beloved Supreme Leader.

And yet, though he was disappointed in her, Finn couldn’t not care about her. After she revealed to him why she went to Kylo Ren in the first place, Finn realized her ill-fated plan had been a desperate ploy to save the Resistance and end the war quickly. She didn’t really seem keen on being the last Jedi (if she could call herself that) and there were days where Finn saw a look in her eyes that reminded him of his own hesitance to join the Resistance. And a part of him still wanted to offer her a way out, an escape.

So, here he was, going on another risky (unauthorized) mission to rescue her from the clutches of the First Order.

The flight suit didn’t fit him the way he hoped. He wasn’t sure who exactly it belonged to, but it was just a little tight in places he wished it wasn’t. But he looked the part of pilot and he hoped that as long as he looked like he belonged in the hangar and kept the helmet on, no one would recognize him. Poe, at least, was off-world on a mission along with the rest of Black Squadron, so that was one hurdle he didn’t have to face.

One problem was that the starfighters used by the Resistance only had room for one pilot and Finn cringed at the thought of him and Rey sharing a cramped space for hours. Someone would have to sit on someone’s lap and not in a romantic kind of way.

And he also needed a droid to assist him in flying. He knew the basics and passed his flight sims, but Finn was almost a complete newbie to piloting anything that wasn’t a land craft. That crossed out the A-wings, leaving him with the choice of a B-wing and an X-wing.

Right, droid first.

He looked around the hangar for any astromech that might help him. The droids on the base were unusually keen to be helpful and were enthusiastic about it. Finn wondered if it had to do with their treatment; many of the sentients in the Resistance treated the droids with respect, some even thought of them as friends. In the First Order, a friendship like the one Poe and BB-8 shared was unheard of.

Spotting a red and blue BB unit check over the X-wings left in the hangar, Finn approached them first.

“Hey there,” he began.

The droid beeped a greeting. Finn wasn’t fluent in binary yet, but he was having full, if very simple conversations with droids when needed. From the mannerisms of this droid, Finn concluded she had feminine programming.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

The droid replied.

“Ceebee-twenty-three? All right. I was wondering if you could help me? I’m supposed to go on a mission, but I haven’t been assigned a partner yet and I’m looking for someone to fly with me.”

The droid questioned him what the mission would entail.

“Not much,” Finn tried to assure her. “I need help with flying, but I have the basics down. Just doing reconnaissance is all.”

CB-23 did not seem interested in the idea. Finn could not follow her beeps, but she seemed to take being assigned to newbies as a personal offense.

“This might be harder than I thought,” he said to himself. “Maybe I should have asked Poe to introduce me to a droid earlier…”

At the mention of Poe’s name, CB-23 danced around excitedly on her base. She seemed to be interested in the mission now, wondering if Poe was the one to send Finn out.

He got the idea to play along. “Yeah, Poe assigned me on this. So what do you think?”

CB-23 agreed to help right away.

He didn’t tell CB-23 the whole plan because he did not want her to panic and either send her own communications to the Resistance or force them to turn around.

See, the plan was to get captured by the Finalizer, specifically. Or if they were somehow lucky to evade capture... sneak on board somehow. The Resistance had at least gathered enough intel to know now that the Supremacy had fallen, the Star Destroyer had become the preferred residency of the Supreme Leader. And they also knew where it currently was since the First Order didn’t feel the need to hide anymore. Finn felt it was a stroke of luck that Kylo Ren selected Finn’s old stomping grounds to house himself and that also meant it was likely that Rey was there too.

Finn steered the X-wing around the area, baiting the First Order to come after him. By the look of it, CB-23 was nervous, but she hadn’t quite caught on to what he was doing yet.

"Just a little longer, Ceebee,” he promised. “We’re gonna go a little farther and then turn around.” He hoped it wouldn’t come to that but for the time being, Finn would have to stall and come up with good excuses to keep the astromech from becoming weary of him.

Finally, turning past a large, single asteroid in their field of vision, Finn saw a Star Destroyer emerged from the darkness.

CB-23 was panicking now, but there was no telltale sign of a tractor beam. It was almost as if the First Order hadn’t noticed them yet, which was too fortunate.

“Calm down,” he hushed her. “But we’re gonna have to get on that Star Destroyer. Think you can help me land near one of the airlocks?”

The droid was hesitant, but she relented and assisted him in lowering the X-wing to attach to the asteroid to get close without being detected. As it passed by the Star Destroyer, Finn took his chance to cruise up to doors of what would be a small hangar. CB-23 hacked the panel to let them inside to a private hangar that was, to their luck again, empty.

“OK Ceebee,” he began. “This is for an officer’s shuttle. Either a droid will come in and find the X-wing, or a shuttle will try to land here.” He glanced around for something to hide her in, like a trash bin he used with BB-8 on the Supremacy. There was a discarded square top to a larger cleaning droid off to the side, and he picked it up and inspected it.

“This should do,” he said, and he looked around with a frown. “I’m gonna cover you with this, but Ceebee, if anyone shows up, I want you to make your way to the main hangar. We’ll find you there, I promise.”

The droid beeped her anger and demanded him to tell her who we meant.

“Not enough time,” he explained. “But this is my real mission.”

Then he ran out of the hangar and peeked around the corner as he came to the first corridor. He glanced down at his orange flight suit and reminded himself that continuing to wear this would make him stick out like a sore thumb. “Right,” he muttered to himself. “Gotta look for spare uniforms. There should be a supply of them around here…” He tried to remember the layout of the Finalizer, but even he had not come to this side of the Star Destroyer often.

But there should be a room… yes! Here! He opened the door quickly and quietly and, after peeking in to make sure everything was clear, he entered the room and shut the door behind him.

It wasn’t ideal to him, but getting back into stormtrooper armor would be the best way for him to get around. After discarding the flight suit in the laundry bin and hoping none of the droids would pay much attention to the new load, Finn checked each helmet he could find until he came across one that still had a call sign loaded on.

CB-2301

Well, CB might get a kick out of that, if she had a sense of humor. The call sign told him this was a helmet of an older trooper and Finn needed to make sure he played the part well.

He walked down the corridors at a pace that didn’t seem too fast as to make others notice him, but also was sure to not walk too slow to look like he was loitering. He kept his ears open for anything that might tip him off to where Rey was and hoped he had not made a mistake to come here.

“Prisoner duty?” he heard one of the ‘troopers ask another carrying a tray of food.

The other one sighed. “Special guest of the Supreme Leader’s.”

“The murderer?”

“Yeah, her. Hate bringing her meals. She makes the door rattle with her mind just to mess with me.”

“Once the Supreme Leader deals with her, there will be no Jedi left. Just remember that as she is, she’s no threat to you.”

“I keep telling myself that every day. But the way she glares at me…”

Realizing right away who they were talking to, Finn tailed the stormtrooper with the tray. Careful not to be seen and to follow behind the ‘trooper far enough to not lose him and to not make himself known, Finn found himself staring out a corridor to a heavily guarded cell.

This must be it, then.

The ‘trooper went inside and the door shut behind him quickly. Finn cursed under his breath because now he would have to come up with a spectacular plan to get inside.

He waited for another four hours for his chance, but he took the time gathering as much intel as he could without making it obvious that he wasn't supposed to be there. Knowing there would be one more meal Rey would be given that day, his best chance to get into the cell was to be the one to bring it to her. It made him feel guilty to attack the stormtrooper bringing in the meals, but he had no choice.

“Sorry,” he said as he dragged the unconscious ‘trooper into the nearest supply closet and grabbed the meal that fell off the tray and on to the floor. Luckily, it was only a bottle of water and a wrapped protein bar.

He approached the cell. “Meal for the prisoner,” he told the guards.

One of them looked him up and down. “What happened to FN-1890?”

Finn shrugged. “Dunno,” he said. “I was asked to take over tonight.” He held the tray out to prove his point.

They let him in without question.

He sat the tray down on the nearby metal table that reminded him too much of an exam bench and glanced around the room. In the center, Rey was strapped into an interrogation chair. It appeared some guards might have beaten her recently, judging by the fresh blood streaks down the side of her face. It reminded him a little like how he found Poe all that time ago.

She looked like she was asleep, and Finn knew his time was short before a guard would come in wondering what was up.

“Rey?” he whispered.

Her eyes opened, looking a little bloodshot. “Finn?” she mumbled.

He removed the helmet. “We’re getting out of here. Are you hurt?”

“Think they drugged me,” she slurred. Almost to prove her point, her head wobbled to the side.

Well, that wasn’t good.

“Can you still use the Force?”

She nodded. “Think so. Don’t know where my lightsaber is.”

“We have at. They left it in your A-wing.” It seemed a little careless that the First Order dragged Rey off her starfighter and left her lightsaber behind, but Leia had wondered if her son was toying with them. They made it easy for the Resistance to find the abandoned A-wing drifting in space with a message inside. The holo was just taunts by Kylo, sneering at his mother for her hope in the future of the New Republic and to brag that Rey, their greatest asset, was in their captivity.

Finn hit the switch to free her, and she stumbled to the floor as he ran over to catch her. Her legs wobbled.

“OK, my legs feel like jelly, but we’re gonna have to do this. I think Kylo’s patience with me is running thin.”

“You're on a public execution schedule,” Finn informed her. Rey’s face turned sour.

“Right, yeah, let’s go.”

Finn put his helmet on and walked back to the door. “On my signal, you’re gonna have to Force-push the guards or something. Think you can do that?”

She nodded. “I can.”

He opened the door and casually strolled outside. Once slightly away from the guards, he discreetly held his hand behind his back and motioned for her to follow him.

Stumbling out, Rey pushed at the guards with the Force, sending the four of them flying against the wall. A few more guards coming down the hall spotted them.

“Stop her!” Finn heard one of them shout.

There were several blaster bolts flying in their direction, but Rey, using the abilities she already picked up in her research, manipulated the blasts at an angle to the walls of the corridors, leaving smoking and scorched holes in their wake. But she missed one bolt and Finn had to jump out of the way.

They needed to make their escape quick, and he prayed to the Force or any deity out there that the X-wing had not yet been discovered. As he wandered the corridors for those hours, he heard no one discussing anything out of the ordinary and he expected that the entire base would have been called for a lock-down if that had happened. That probably meant Kylo was not on the Finalizer at the moment, for Finn would be hard-pressed to think that he would get in and out so easily if he were on board.

He made sure Rey didn’t fall too far behind. She was a lot more aware than she acted like in the cell, but she was far from her normal self. Every once in a while, she glanced around their surroundings confused until Finn gently grabbed her arm and helped her maneuver to the hangar.

“This way,” he told her and counted his lucky stars again that the X-wing was still there. “Ceebee, load up," he hissed to the droid still under the container.

“An X-wing?” Rey lifted her brow as she hit a button on a nearby console to open up the hangar doors.

“Only thing I got. Sorry. It’s gonna be a tight squeeze.”

“I’ll say.” She looked like she was about to fall asleep standing up again.

“You wanna fly or-”

“I feel like I’m drunk, Finn. No drinking and flying, right?”

While Finn got himself into the cockpit first, helping Rey try to shimmy in, he grinned. “Well, drunk or not, you still might be a better pilot than me.” He looked over at the droid loading up into the astromech slot. “Ceebee? All set?”

The droid rushed a confirmation.

“OK, let’s go.” Finn, with the help of Rey, hit the controls to get the starfighter up and running. Engines ready, he looked to his right viewport to see a group of heavy-artillery ‘troopers rushing in.

Rey saw this too, now seeming to be more awake than ever. “Punch it!” she shouted to the droid, taking the controls for herself.

The X-wing rumbled as it almost blasted out of the hangar, sending shockwaves through the cockpit as Finn hit the back of his seat with Rey’s tangled hair getting into his face.

Rey didn’t ease up on the controls until they were safely out of harm’s way and hit lightspeed. “No TIEs,” she sighed with relief. “Good.” She patted the console. “Thanks… Ceebee?” she raised her voice.

The droid beeped her frustration about the whole matter.

“Must not have had enough notice to catch up to us,” Finn mused over the lack of attack once they got out of the hangar.

She nodded. “Can you fly now?” she slurred. “Tired.”

“Of course.” He smiled, wrapping his arms around her to reach the controls. “We’ll be back to base in a couple of hours.”

There was no other sound from Rey as she slumped up against him, her back to his chest. No sound except a loud snore.

#finnrey #finnreyfridays #my stuff

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parttwoactuallywrites · 5 years

Note

If you're still taking requests for bad things happen bingo, how about Virgil x Mel + natural disaster? - theportalwedeserve

@theportalwedeserve

ahslkdjfhlHLKJASHDLFKJH I was considering reposting that bingo card so people might consider requesting, but this came at a really good time!! Thanks a million for asking!!!!

Some quick notes before I start - This is my first shot at writing both Virgil AND Mel, and honestly? I have no idea how I did, so feedback from those who actually have written these guys/know more about them then I do/ etc. is always appreciated! Sorry if it’s not quite up to snuff! Secondary sorry that this took so long, I wrote this during my study-breaks for my midterms (which start this Thursday and I’m ahsdkfjhsjf). This was also originally gonna be WAY shorter but I’m a mess lmao.

This fic is best enjoyed listening to Gymnopedie No. 1 and Cherche La Rose on loop. Sorry this wasn’t angstier, I wanted to write some comfy stuff ‘cause it’s cold out.

The two of them were always regarded as an oddball couple, woodsy folk who lived a mile or so out of town in a little log-cabin they’d built themselves with the extra hands of whoever wanted to help - which was, evidently, the entirety of the little community of Laurel River.

It made sense, at least to Virgil. Though he couldn’t help but think of himself as the most “other” person there - Hah, I’m calling myself a person, now. - he seemed to fit right in. Hard workers with practical genius and warmth he’d never seen down in the salt mines. He supposed you had to be a certain kind of person to work at Aperture, and those types didn’t have a predisposition to warmth, now did they?

Speaking of, the warmth was only really metaphorical. The weather hadn’t gotten above freezing in weeks, the days got shorter and shorter, and with no real work that could get done with the ground and the river frozen, the town and its inhabitants got rather sleepy.

A cold, cold wind blew over a mostly-empty town square as Virgil stepped into the little general store for the groceries.

“Hey, Lil,” Virgil said, closing the door behind him as softly as he could.

“Hello to you too, Virgil! How’s the weather out there?” Lily asked, without turning around. She was an older woman, soft spoken and gentle. She made lovely bouquets in the summer and spring, with a garden to kill or die for.

“Bad,” He said, pulling his neatly folded list out of his pocket, “Cold, windy, cloudy.”

“Oh dear,” She said, still re-organizing the things behind the counter, “Well that sounds about right. There’s supposed to be a storm coming, a big blizzard. First of the season.”

Blizzard.

Virgil knew what those were, knew that they were big screw-off storms with strong wind and snow that made it so you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. He knew that blizzards took down trees and power lines and covered up solar panels in a foot-and-a-half of snow. Sounded like a recipe for losing power, or worse, their house getting destroyed.

He frowned, one by one grabbing the things off the shelves and putting them into a canvas bag he’d gotten when he first came into town. Flour, sugar, milk, eggs, brussels sprouts, carrots, leek, butternut squash, ‘any herbs you can get your hands on’…

He put the worry out of his mind. The clearing the cabin sat in was far enough away that a few trees coming down wouldn’t be a terrible issue. The house kept the heat well and he’d be willing to trudge a ways into the woods for more firewood if they lost power and ran out. They could camp out in the living room and snuggle to stay warm, or maybe…

Well, that assumed either of them would be willing to get their clothes off. Unlikely, given the predicted circumstances, but a nice thought nonetheless.

Virgil set his things down on the front counter one by one, lost in his unlikely-but-still-nice-thoughts about the days to come, just the two of them, snowed in together.

“Name the kid after me,” Lily said with a pleasant smile.

“Wha- Good lord, Lil!”

She laughed, took the money from the counter and handed him back a few bucks in change. “Seriously, you kids be safe, and don’t you hesitate to come to town if something happens.”

“We’ll be sure of it. Thanks, Lily.” He slowly loaded all his things into his bag.

“Any time, Virgil. Have a nice evening, honey.”

He pushed the door open, waving as he walked out. “You too!”

And then once more he was out in the cold. A gust of wind blew in his face, stinging his eyes and making them water. That might be the only thing he missed about being a core, his fantastic inability to feel most external stimuli, and with that, his inability to feel the cold stiffening his fingers, making him regret not wearing his gloves.

It was gonna be a long trudge home.

Virgil came home a few minutes out from frostbite as the sun was starting to set. He huffed as he gently set down the bag on the floor by the front door, kicked off his shoes carelessly, and wondered how long it’d take before his ears stopped burning and feeling returned to his face.

The smell of bread wafted through their small home, coupled by hot cocoa floating in beside it.

“Making something, Mel?”

She hummed. “You were taking a mighty long time out there,” She said, moving through the kitchen slowly, leisurely. “Thought it might be nice to come home to something hot to drink.”

“You’re my savior, you know that, right?”

Mel giggled. “You’ve said so on more than one occasion.” She set two cups down on their modest kitchen table, filling them with the cocoa. “What’s the news from in town?”

“We’ve got a blizzard coming in,” He said, walking towards her “That’ll be your first snow in over a hundred years!”

“It’ll be your first snow ever.” She handed him a cup of cocoa and leaned back against the kitchen counter to drink the other herself.

He took it in both hands, taking a long sip, letting the sweet drink warm him. “Mmm… This is good.”

“Thank you.”

“But personality cores are based on, well… Personalities. They were all people, once, including me,” Virgil said, “Don’t remember any of it, but I bet you I saw snow back then.”

“I still don’t get how you’re supposed to pour a person into a box, and then have that box… Do things,” She said, flatly.

“Mel, we own a computer.”

“Yeah, and I like it, but that doesn’t mean I understand it. Last I checked, TV’s were the size of our oven and only played blurry and in black and white. It’s just after the apocalypse, and we got color and crystal-clear pictures.”

Virgil shrugged. “Fair point.”

The storm came early that morning, before first light of dawn and well before either of them woke. Virgil vaguely remembered sleepily arguing for Mel to stay in bed, to sleep another hour or two with him, before being given a pillow to hug instead as she went about her morning without him. She only actually woke him up some time later, gently shaking him awake to a dark bedroom.

“Power’s out, Virgil,” Mel said, “Virgil, wake the hell up.”

“Huh?”

“The power’s-” Mel was cut off by a clap of thunder that rattled through the small house, startling Virgil fully awake.

“What the fuck-” Virgil shot up in bed, grabbing Mel’s hands almost instinctively for support.

“Looks like it’s a thundersnow,” Mel said thoughtfully.

“A what?”

Another clap of thunder, accompanied by a flash of lightning. Virgil yelped in surprise, this time, earning him a comforting hand on his shoulder from Mel. “You alright?”

“Fine!” He squeaked, “Just fine.”

“Well, the power’s out,” She said, “So if we’re gonna make breakfast, it’ll have to be over the fireplace.”

“Do you need a hand with that?” He kicked his legs over the edge of bed, planting his feet on the ground and stretching up.

“I can get the fire set up and all that-” Mel cringed as his back cracked.

“Sorry.”

“Not a problem, not a problem,” She said, dismissively. “Could you make that stew of yours, though?”

Oh. The stew. He’d made it over the fireplace, once or twice before, with decent success. Not that it was particularly difficult to make, more or less a “sear some stuff and then leave it alone for three hours” type of situation.

He wanted to say no, anyways. Last time he did it, he burned his wrist on the pot and he still had a little scar from it. It was dangerous and difficult to cook over the fireplace, but Mel looked so hopeful and she loved that stew…

“Yeah, alright,” He said, “I can do that.”

Mel sweeped him up into a hug, pressing kisses to his face indiscriminately. “You’re the best,” She said, after landing one right on his eyelid, “Easily the best.”

“That’s high praise coming from my savior.”

When he actually got a chance to look outside, it was a little astonishing. He could hear the wind whistling almost constantly, or the odd clap of thunder in the distance, but he had no idea just how nasty it was, out there.

The world was covered in a haze of white, he couldn’t see the trees of the backwoods or the river that ran through the area they designated as their backyard. It was almost spooky, like the house itself had been isolated from the rest of the world.

He turned his attention back to the cutting board, back to cutting the vegetables they had on hand. Mel was curled up on the couch in their modest living room, warm and cozy by the fire she’d just started, reading something by the soft light of the window.

Yeah, burning his arm again would be worth it, if it came to that. Definitely. Mel worked too hard, too long, too sustained almost constantly. She had no ‘off’ switch, though, he supposed, that is what got them out of Aperture and into town in the first place.

Virgil dropped the vegetables into the almost cauldron-like cooking pot, letting them sizzle satisfyingly. The browned meat sat in a little bowl next to the pot, along with all the stock anyone could ever need. He absentmindedly stirred things around, more aware of Mel’s contented humming than he was his own hands.

Luckily, he didn’t burn himself, this time.

As if on auto-pilot, he put everything left in the pot, one by one, with the exception of the random assortment of root vegetables he’d throw in towards the end. He poured in the stock, covered the pot, and turned to Mel, who opened her blanket and patted the spot next to her.

“Kept your seat warm for you.” She said, grinning.

“Think I could stand to take a nap?”

“I’ll wake you up in two hours,” She said, “Stew smells great, by the way.”

“Thanks, love,” Virgil said, grabbing an extra blanket and curling himself up next to her, falling asleep in her lap.

Virgil woke up to the smell of stew and the sound of bowls being shifted around in the kitchen.

“Mel?” He called to nowhere in particular. Did I wake up in time to add the parsnip?

“You didn’t wake up, I handled the rest of it,” She said, almost reading his mind, “Stew’s done, if you’re hungry.” She handed him a bowl, as he sat up, complete with a piece of toast with butter. She dug in without waiting, putting a spoonful in her mouth and sighing with pleasure. “Christ, this is good…”

He looked down into his bowl, contemplative.

The world was scary, wasn’t it? Terrifying. There was a blizzard out there that could’ve probably killed him, back when he was a core, that would’ve definitely killed him if he was out there, now.

But he wasn’t.

He was warm and safe, in his own home, just him and Mel. Larger than that, they came off the heels of a war, and they were better for it. Would Laurel River have helped them build their home, been so kind as to open their doors for them before the war?

He didn’t think so. From what Mel said about the world, back then, they’d have had white picket fences up and would’ve judged ‘em both for how they dressed and acted, when things were ‘improper’ - whatever that meant.

He couldn’t help but thank the maker that he was alive, really alive, then. In his home, with the love of his life, safe and warm and eating stew.

He ripped off a small piece of bread and dunked it into the stew, taking his first bite before it went cold.

She was right, it was pretty good.

#portal #portal stories: mel #mel/virgil #i don't know their ship name #so anyone who does #lemme know please!!#bad things happen bingo #parttwoactuallywrites #virmel

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lids-flutter-open · 5 years

Text

James orsino -goth gay YA ch 5

“Hey,” Orsino said. He was smiling at me. “Nice to see you. James, right?”

“And you’re Orsino.”

“I’m Robin,” said a girl with good skin and short hair in a flat-top. She looked like a panel from a 1980s lesbian comic. “I’m Orsino’s sister.”

“Hi,” I said. “Does anyone want weed?”

They did. We smoked and January talked to Ian. I didn’t get all of what they said, but Ian was glowing. Overhead the trees dropped a few leaves and some of the pine needles from the scrubby little pine tree by the house blew over the yard and into the bonfire, sparking as they went. There were at least fifty people at the show. Probably more, inside the house and around in front where they weren’t meant to be. People were slowly trickling back around the edges of the show space in the garage, waiting for the temperature inside to finally get cool enough to repopulate.

“So are you from around here?” I asked Orsino. “Or where?” I had given him a joint I’d rolled earlier and been carrying around in my cigarette case. He coughed a lot as he smoked.

“Down south about an hour,” Orsino said. “Near Centralia, kind of. But most of the time lately I live up in Tacoma with Robin and January. My dad owns some cows and a chicken farm and my mom is always fighting with him and it’s bad to be around. You?”

“I’m from here,” I said. “I’m in high school. One of the ones near the farms. It’s all rednecks. No gays really.”

“You go to that Compton House thing?” Orsino asked. “I know that’s like, a big thing for gay kids here. My therapist was trying to get me to go since I didn’t like the trans group in Tacoma.”

“I go,” I said. “I’m on the Speakers’ Bureau doing sex education at schools and public organizations and stuff.”

“Oh,” Orsino said. He waggled his eyebrows. “You know a lot about sex then?” He exhaled some of the smoke from his joint into my face and smiled.

“In the public health sense, anyway,” I said. “I know where to get condoms and free dental dams.” I paused. I really wanted to say something flirtatious, but wasn’t sure what to start with. “And I know from Delaney and Genet and White for the rest, though who knows what I’m missing in that sense.” I could feel my hands reach up and touch the bad little patch of stubble on my neck. I wished there was a mirror or a dark window around I could glance into to make sure I didn’t look like a fool. I crossed my legs and turned more towards Orsino.

“Don’t know who those guys are,” Orsino smirked. His eyes were really dark brown and the firelight was sort of reflected there. I couldn’t tell if he was making fun of me for the references or making fun of me for doing sex education as a teenager like some kind of Young Democrat. I didn’t know his vibe enough to tell.

“They’re all older. Delaney’s the one you’re supposed to read, I’m pretty sure,” I said. “Or at least, he’s the one most likely to have been read by hot people, from what I can tell.”

“Oh, it’s a book,” said Orsino.

“He’s an author,” I said. “Samuel Delaney. Chip Delaney. Time Square Red, Time Square Blue. Science fiction and sexy gay memoir. Never mind. I’m stoned. I’m sorry.”

“He writes about sex and taught you sex, is what you’re saying.”

“Yeah.”

“Does he write about like specific kinks you were trying to communicate to me or something?”

I felt my face grow hot. “Public bathrooms,” I said. “Is one thing he’s very into. Not that I am. Unless you are. But that’s not—it’s just his prose.”

“Do you always give a … what’s it called. A bibliography. Do you always do that when someone asks you about sex?”

“Do you always ask boys about sex two seconds after meeting them?”

“Only when they’re hot,” Orsino said. “Then yeah, I do. Sorry, I can’t read social cues well. Was that out of line?”

“No.”

“You didn’t answer the question. You go around give out bibliographies about sex? Like that pink hair lady who draws that weird comic about sex toys online?”

“You’re the one named fucking Orsino,” I said. “Literary references are something you signed up for.” I took a hit from my pipe. I was starting to feel slightly more comfortable, but it wasn’t happening fast enough. I glanced at Orsino’s hands. The nails were short. His pinky nail on his left hand was painted black but none of the other fingernails were. There was a little stick-and-poke of a rabbit on the back of his right hand.

“Maybe I should change it,” he said. “To something butch. I can be Harry. Or Brandon.”

“A trade name,” I said.

“A farm boy name.”

“Brandon is a G.O.P candidate name.”

“Now that’s trade.”

“What music do you like, Brandon?”

“Well, I’m here. OVID’s good. January can be a bitch a little bit, but it’s good music. And I like Dyke Drama and G.L.O.S.S, obviously. And LOONE. But also Mitski. And Blood Kennel and Limp Wrist and Dick Binge. But I also like The Shins.”

“My dad likes The Shins,” I said. “I have like a gag reflex about The Shins.” I could hear my voice, catty and faggy. “They’re such a dad band. How old are you, anyway?”

“Eighteen,” Orsino said.

“Okay. Well, for an eighteen-year-old you sure like dad bands.”

“It’s good music,” Orsino said. “You gotta listen to the lyrics. What about you?”

“I only listen to Ariana Grande,” I said, smirking at him stupidly and fluttering my eyelashes. I might have been being dumb, but he was still smiling at me, so I wanted to try being bolder. “And Gaga. I literally only listen to Just Dance by Lady Gaga and Pete Davidson by Ariana Grande every single day of my life. On repeat. I hate punk music.”

“Oh, really,” Orsino said in a flat-affect kind of voice. “You must be having a really interesting time here tonight then.”

“It’s really funny music,” I said. “And nobody is wearing platform boots or a rainbow pin or jewels or teal hair or anything.”

“I saw someone with teal hair,” Orsino said.

“That was me, actually. Earlier. I came with teal hair and an Ariana Grande tour shirt and changed.”

“Oh really,” Orsino said. He made eye contact with me and then slowly reached out and pulled at one of my curls. “I like what you’ve done with your hair since then. Insta-dye job to black. Insta-goth. It’s a really cute haircut on you, actually.”

“Thanks. I did it in the bathroom sink,” I said. “Just now. Using charcoal from the fire. I thought, oh no, everyone has dark hair or bad orangey dry bleach jobs. I have to fit in.”

“You’re doing good and blending in,” Orsino said. He finished the joint and ground out the end in the dirt under the stump. “Wait. Did you just neg me for my bleach job?”

I felt my face fall. “What?”

“You said bad bleach jobs and looked at my hair. Were you making fun of me for my bleach job? You know, negging me? I know it’s all dry forest fire thatch up here.”

“I guess I did,” I said. I looked at his hair and back at his eyes.

“Didn’t expect you to be acting like a straight English major goth at a sorority party over here,” Orsino said. “Calling all the girls ugly cause you think it’ll make them like you.”

I swallowed. “You’re right. That was cruel of me. I made fun of your name, earlier, too, and that was wrong. I shouldn’t be mean to cute boys.”

“And my music taste.”

“That’s just a difference of opinion.”

Orsino looked at me like a cat playing with a mouse, but in a friendly way. “You were very cruel about my hair, though. I feel so small.”

“Sorry. It’s a bad habit. You can do two negs for me now. Tell me I’m ugly so you can hit on me better.”

“Hm,” Orsino said. He swung one hairy leg over the stump so half of him was in shadow under the trees and his right foot was nestled in the ivy and broken glass that lay all along the perimeter of the Goat Mansion yard. “Well, you aren’t ugly, so I can’t do exactly that. Maybe I want to save my negs. Find your weak spots and then go in for the kill.”

“I’m shaking,” I said.

“Okay. I have one. My first one is that your mustache sucks. It’s like really cute that you’re trying it and I know what you’re going for, and the concept is attractive to me, and I like your philtrum, but it’s a bad mustache.”

“Ooh. Ouch. That stings,” I said. “I think it stings more because of all the compliments you threw in with it to cushion it.” But I scooted closer to him.

“I can do more.” He looked at me hard. “If you consent. I can be meaner about it.”

“About my mustache? Okay,” I said. “But I might be hurt and never speak to you again.”

“You’re trying to look like Freddie Mercury or something, right? You look like a summer camp counselor from the 1980s.”

“Ouch! You sure snatched my wig.” I put on a faggy voice. It kind of did sting to hear him say that, though also I knew that my mustache amounted to about twenty-four downy bad little hairs. But I guess I deserved it.

“See how it feels?” Orsino scooted a little closer. I found myself appreciating how broad his shoulders and torso were compared to mine. I looked at his smile. His canines were a little crooked.

“I actually am a summer camp counselor,” I said. “During the summer.”

“I’m Sherlock Holmes.”

“I can give you another weak spot,” I said. “I’m a nerd and I used to be a horse girl. Got any horse related disses?”

“It doesn’t count if you give them to me. That’s a self defense maneuver. Also I don’t know if you’re even telling the truth. It’s gotta be something you’re sensitive about.”

“Are you sensitive about your hair and your name?”

“Yes! I’m a punk. My image is very important to me. Talking shit on my hair was mean. You started this whole battle.”

“Okay, fine. I’m sorry already. But give me time to recover from your first cutting remark before you do any more to me.” I put away my pipe. I glanced briefly over at Ian. Jukebox had left and now he was talking to Opal and Robin a few feet away. I felt like socially I was obligated to join their shit instead of sitting here talking to this boy I didn’t really know yet. At least so I could be up on the whole deal with Miss San Juan and the Dusties or whatever the new band was called. “Do you want to meet my friends?” I asked Orsino, standing.

“Sure,” he said. He pulled himself up. “Hey, you’re not really hurt about the mustache thing, right?” He wasn’t smiling as much any more. “I was just playing around. Your mustache is fine. It looks like every other high school punk’s mustache. Better than some. Better than mine. And you’re cute. You pull it off pretty good.”

I realized he thought he had misstepped and now I’d lost interest. I felt a flutter in my stomach.

“It’s a really sensitive topic for me because of my gender dysphoria,” I said in a deadpan voice. I walked over to Ian and Opal and Robin.

Orsino followed me, squinting a little as if he couldn’t tell if I was joking. He put his thumbs into the belt loops of his pants.“Are you serious?” He asked. "I’m sorry, I…”

“I won’t ever forgive you. Hey, meet my friends. Here are my friends Opal and Ian, who I guess have a band now.”

Ian paused. He had been saying something to Robin about some music stuff. I wasn’t sure what equipment they were talking about but it had hertz. He looked over to Orsino and then me and raised his eyebrows.

“Hey,” he said. “I’m Miss San Juan, otherwise known as Ian. You saw me set up and then saw my set just now. You were jumping. Didn’t get your name.”

“I was indeed jumping,” Orsino said. “It was a pretty good show for how messy it seemed like things were before it started. You did good. You have a great stage presence. I’m Orsino.” He held out his hand, arcing his arm out for a man-handshake.

Ian placed his delicate little hand in Orsino’s big one like a princess greeting her security guard. “Pleased to meet you.”

“I’m Orsino,” Orsino said again to Opal, holding out his hand again. For the first time I realized he was maybe kind of too stoned.

“I’m Opal,” said Opal. “I’m a drummer and use they/them pronouns and I’m really hungry for some trash food right now. Does anyone else want food?” They looked at me and then at Orsino. “You both look like you want some trash food.”

“Fuck yeah,” Orsino said. “Do we know when the next show starts, though?”

“There’s the gas station that doesn’t sell beer around the corner that way,” Opal said. “They have chips and sometimes hot dogs and pizza. We’ll be quick.”

“Let’s go,” Orsino said. He put his arm around my shoulders and set off toward the edge of the yard as if we had been walking together like that everywhere for years, as if he had touched me before.

“I don’t think I want food right now,” Ian said. “I’ll stay here.” He had a sort of quiet, wan tone in his voice that made me pause.

“Oh,” I said, and dug my feet into the ground to stop and pulled away from Orsino’s arm. I looked from Orsino to Ian. I didn’t want to leave Ian standing here alone right after his big set. “Ian, are you sure? You’ll need calories in a little bit.”

“I just feel like standing and smoking for a second in the quiet over here by the fence,” Ian said.

“Quieter out by the gas station,” I said.

“I don’t feel like walking.”

“I’ll stay here too then,” I said.

“I’m still going,” Orsino said. “I’m genuinely hungry.”

“Come on, then, big papa,” Opal said. “Let’s get some cheese fuel.” They turned their chair and wheeled fairly rapidly across the grass.

#james and orsino #long text #long post #writing #goth gay ya #trans #lgbt

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