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sxfik · 2 years

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peace is not known to man (III)

part I | part II | part III | part IV (coming soon)

read on ao3 • main masterlist • law school masterlist

fic summary: after turning his back on the prosecutor's office, lawyer han joon hwi attempts at a clean slate, starting his own private firm. but, there was no way for him to move forward without clearing his former suspect, his current coworker, lawyer kang sol. with lee man ho, their main suspect, escaped and an empty apartment, can they prove her innocence?

suspicious partner au, fake dating, roommates au of solhwi :)

chapter summary: the news of ji ho's state pushes the team to a standstill, but it's the news that will follow that will truly test the breaking point.

a/n: after 7 months, this is the third chapter of peace is not known to man. it's been an incredibly long time since i've updated and i sincerely apologize for that. in this time, quite a lot has happened in my life! i'm now in college, in second semester, and holy shit it's a brand new year! this chapter took a lot of time for me to write, writers block combined with a busy schedule and zero focusing ability! but without further adieu...

There are moments in life when time seems to be going too slow. Each moment feels like you're wading through an ocean of molasses, your movements lethargic and slow. Every second stretches out, the future not coming fast enough. Yet, your mind is still sharp and bright, willing your body to propel itself forward against the waves crashing against you.

This was one of those moments, as Joon hwi watched as Ji ho's chest rise and fall, his breathing in tandem with the assortment of beeps and noises filling the hospital room. His vision felt sluggish and it felt like the day his former roommate could gain conscious wouldn't come soon enough. Everywhere he looked, there wires and tubes attached to the man lying on the bed, the red and blue colors flashing on the monitors monitoring every second of Ji ho's condition.

"It's a good thing you brought him in as soon as possible," the doctor had said to them, the group almost clinging onto each other in front of the ER. "He experienced a lot of blood loss. If you were a few more minutes late, the operation would have been much harder. He's in a more stable condition now, but might take a while to gain consciousness."

It's been two days since then, as they all took shifts, watching their dear coworker and friend as he lay in the hospital. Each of them would shuffle in, their suit crinkled and hair disheveled as they took turns watching over him.

Despite their firm still being swamped with cases, none of them could focus on anything except Ji ho's condition. More often than not, they would all bring their stacks of case files to the private room, working as they monitored his condition. Everywhere you looked you could see papers and case files, the room as much of a mess as they were. It was only on Joon Hwi's instance that any of them showered or went home to take a break.

Of course, none of this would get through to Kang Sol B. She insisted on staying by his side, snapping at anyone who suggested she leave to take a break. After Sol's incessant pestering, she'd go home but soon enough, the girl would be back, ready to stay by Ji ho's side. Eventually they just gave up, letting the girl sit by her side.

To any outsider, the calm, cold demeanored girl didn't look any different but they all knew better. Her eyes were red rimmed, shifting to the man laying in the bed at any shift in breathing or any discomfort. Her voice didn't hold the same strength anymore, her words had no bite to it. Her hands trembled in her lap, constantly scrubbing at each other, trying to clean themselves off despite not a speck of dust in sight.

Ji ho had left Sol late at the office that fateful day, after getting an apparent phone call that Lee Man Ho was spotted in an abandoned corner of the city. There was construction everywhere in the area, so it was a plausible hiding site for their culprit. Despite her insistence to wait for someone else to go with him or at least take her with him, he wouldn't relent, insisting that he had to follow this lead to prove some hunch he had, before it ended up in a dead end. Stil, he promised her he would call as soon as he was at the site, or at least after he’d checked the place out.

An hour passed, then two. Sol B had patiently waited but after not receiving a phone call from him, she took matters into her own hands, driving herself towards the construction site. After searching every alleyway and street, she found him, lying against the corner of an unfinished wall.

By the time Joon hwi and Sol A reached the hospital, Sol B was still sitting against the wall of the ER, her gaze blank as blood soaked up to her elbows. Her white shirt was smeared with his blood, and she was completely unresponsive to any of their calls.

Sol had refused to tell them how he was when she found him, her lips pursed and her eyebrows furrowed. The moment any one asked her about the events that happened between finding him and landing up in the hospital, her gaze would go blank and she wouldn't speak for the rest of the hour until someone changed the subject.

Understanding that she wouldn't speak until she was ready, they had let her be, each of them taking turns to make sure she was taking care of herself instead. Sol A and Ye Seul would occasionally bring her clothes and food, tried to ensure that she would eat and take care of herself.

"Ji ho, if you wake up, I promise you I'll give you all my candy that you've asked for over the years." Ye-beom said, sitting at the seat across from Joon hwi and Sol B. The aloof and cheery guy who always had candy at hand, now has a pile of candy he laid out in a small bag labeled 'for Ji Ho.'

"I'll even give you the orange lollipops that you always asked for," he looked down to the floor, sighing.

"Give me the cherry ones, the orange ones are too sour," a weak voice murmured out.

"Sure, anything you want," Ye-beom replied mindlessly, before his head shot up looking up at Ji Ho’s faint smile, his eyes finally open, on the bed.

"God finally!" Bok-gi shot to his bedside, his curly hair frizzier than ever. The only thing that kept it back was black hairband with "Ye-Seul" embroidered on it in gold thread. They'd all slowly gathered around Ji ho, standing at the sides of his bed, the cheers of glee and laughter scattering across the room.

Ji ho scanned the room, looking at the shock and glee on everyone's face before landing on a certain girl who stayed quiet, her eyes narrowed at him. He squinted. "Kang Sol? God, I can't even see you properly because I don't have my glasses. Next time I get shot and I'm in the hospital, please keep my glasses on my face," he joked, everyone letting out scattered bits of laughter.

"Next time?" She stared him down, looking square at his face, her face emotionless as everyone quieted down looking between the two. "There better not be a next time," she said firmly. And it would have been effective, if not for the slight wavering in her voice. If not for the slight tremble in her hands as she looked at him, fully taking him in. Ji ho only grinned at her response, possibly one of the biggest grins he's ever had on his face.

The rest of the afternoon had passed by quickly, with Joon hwi ushering in the doctors letting them know he had woken up and the next two hours spent checking his condition and making sure he was okay. By the time he was able to relax, it was late into the evening.

"Guys, go home, I'll take care of Ji ho for the night," Joon hwi reassured the group, looking specifically at Sol B. Before she could protest, Ji ho grabbed her hand, squeezing it tight. Her lips pressed into a thin line and finally, she relented. Sol A and Ye-Seul came to her side, gently lifting the girl up to her feet as the rest of the group shuffled out, Sol B leaning onto the girls.

"I was right," Ji ho murmured to him, his eyes still glued to the door their friends had shuffled out of.

"I think your uncle and Assemblyman Ko was involved in Lee Man Ho's hit-and-run case," he sighed out, his voice clearer now as he looked up at Joon hwi. Joon hwi turned to him, finally looking at his best friend, but before he could jump to his uncle’s defense, Ji ho held both his hands out.

"When I left the office that night, it wasn't because of Lee Man Ho. I actually found someone that had the footage of the hit-and-run case he had witnessed."

"What?"

"Your uncle. It was your uncle Joon hwi," Ji ho softly said, hesitation coating his voice, "Your uncle was the one in the hit-and-run case.”

Joon hwi felt the same lethargic feeling climb up his body as he looked down at the man, his best friend telling him that the man he had idolized and loved, was the cause of all his pain. The cause of everything Sol A had been through. He could only blink back at Ji ho, his body frozen in shock, his mind too slow to process. The silence in the room stretched out as the tension was thick as ever.

“Look hear me out, okay? You don’t need to say anything right now, let me just,” Ji ho paused, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “Let me just explain.”

Joon hwi could only nod, as he took a seat, lest his body fail him more than it already has.

“For the past week, I’ve been going through your uncle’s older case files. I had to do quite a lot of digging for them, because for some reason these weren’t in the stacks that we could gather when we originally investigated. When I reached files around the time of the hit and run, there was a major gap. Not to mention, that your uncle struck up a friendship with Assemblyman Ko in that same period,” he paused, trying to catch his breath as his eyes scanned Joon hwi’s rigid face.

“After doing a little bit more detailed tracking of his locations and that days events I found that both your uncle and Assemblyman Ko was in the car together as they left the dinner. It’s the only reason why Lee Man Ho has been so elusive with you, because he knows your uncle was in the car with the Assemblyman. So, I tracked his steps back, and I found someone with the footage.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because,” Ji ho paused, looking into Joon hwi’s eyes. He bit his lip slightly, almost hesitating. “Because I needed to be sure it was him. I couldn’t tell you this news because I didn’t want you to re-live the pain of your uncle’s death and now, the death of who you thought your uncle to be.”

The room was dead quiet then, Joon hwi’s body and mind unable to process the death of what his uncle was to him. There was nothing said, because there’s nothing Ji ho could say to make this digestible for him. Nothing he could say to take back the truth of who Joon hwi’s uncle was.

“I need air. I’m going to all Ye-beom and Bok-gi to take over for me,” Joon hwi said as he abruptly stood up, his eyes not meeting Ji ho’s.

“Joon hwi—” Ji ho started, but it was of no use. The man had already stormed out, the hospital door slamming.

Joon hwi stood in the aisle of the corner store, his hands crumpled into fists at his side as he stared into the walls and walls of ramen. He had just called Ye-beom and Bok-gi, ensuring they took guard of Ji ho’s room before he marched out. Even though his whole world had crumbled in one conversation, he couldn’t bare it if something happened to Ji Ho. Joon hwi passed on the job without much fanfare, attempting at a thin veiled excuse of I’m a lot more tired than I thought I was.

Now, in front of him were rows and rows of colorful packets of ramen. The colors of the packaging blurred as Joon hwi stared intently at the packets, his body unable to move as his mind was still stunned from his best friend’s news.

When he was a kid, his uncle would take him to a convenience store, one that looked exactly like the one he was standing in right now. His uncle, laughing, would place him on his shoulders, making sure he could see every choice before making it.

Giggling, Joon hwi would choose the brightest one possible, and together, his uncle and him, would go home and make it together. Joon hwi would be placed on the kitchen counter, his young legs swinging into the cabinets as he watched his uncle do all the hard and dangerous steps, steps he wasn’t quite old enough to do by himself.

Sharing the sacred process of making and eating ramen together, his uncle making sure to ask Joon hwi about his studies, his days at school, learning everything that went on his life.

And when he would go to sleep on those weekends, he’d dream of wearing the mahogany robes of a prosecutor, just like his uncle. He would dream of laughing and appreciating his life, just like his uncle. And he’d dream that one day he’d be old enough to make the ramen by himself, at his uncle’s side rather than watching him do the steps.

But now he was tall enough to see all the colors of the packages. He was old enough to make the ramen without getting burned, without needing help. But in this moment, all he wished was to return to the blissful ignorance of a child. To have his uncle hold his hand, as he stirred the ramen and teach him every step.

He wished to have his uncle here, to hold his hand through every step. To tell him how to grapple with the fact that the man he idolized, the man he formed his ideals after, was human after all. To help him accept that his uncle was not the man he thought he was.

Joon hwi could only stand, looking into the aisles, as he felt like he was both five and thirty at the same time, looking into the same ramen packets but now from a completely different perspective.

The small chime of the store door rang, as another customer walked into the store, but it was only background noise to Joon hwi, his body still frozen in place. Still, he could make out the black cap of the customer move across the aisles into the one opposing his. His brain still slow, he couldn’t make the connection between the man’s face and his own memory until his eyes met the man’s eyes. The familiar sneering, kniving eyes. The eyes of Lee Man Ho.

As if his mind was jolted into reality, his body reacted, moving from his aisle. But he was a beat too late as Lee Man Ho had already taken off, running out the door of the convenience store and into the street.

Joon hwi ran after him into the street, adrenaline pumping through his veins. His legs couldn’t move fast enough, his body severely constrained by his office wear, but it didn’t matter. Despite the rounded alleyways and narrow streets, Joon hwi followed him, running as fast as his legs could carry him.

Lee Man ho twisted into the alleyway, the walls closing in on the both of them, until it led out into an street, leading all the way to some tunnel. With a new burst of energy, Joon hwi picked up his speed, his hands reaching out to push the rough material of the culprit. Lee Man ho stumbled, his pace ruined for long enough for Joon hwi to reach and swing, his fist connecting sickeningly against the body of this man. Lee Man ho twisted, now facing Joon hwi was he went in for a punch but Joon hwi ducked, stumbling back.

A calm rage washed over him as he sprung forward and swung again, this time his fist connecting with Lee Man Ho’s face. He recoiled, but sprung back to land a punch into Joon hwi’s gut, almost kneeling him over.

“Finally abandoned the law for this, huh Prosecutor?” Lee Man ho’s eyes narrowed as he flashed him a sickening smile, the dim street light glinting off of the metal in his teeth.

Joon hwi could only grunt in response, a hand going up to press into his gut as he stood up once again. He raced forward blindly, attempting for another hit, only for the man to dodge.

“Oh sorry, you’re a lawyer now, aren’t you,” Lee Man Ho sneered, and Joon hwi attempted again, just time kicking up at him. His foot connected with his body as Lee Man ho crumpled into the pavement.

Taking this opportunity, Joon hwi once again surged forward, caging Lee Man ho to the concrete road as he swung, his fist connecting to the man’s face. There was only adrenaline and anger, betrayal and rage, that flooded Joon hwi’s mind, the rationality leaving his body as he kept going. His knuckles screamed at the repeated contact, and his hands were now covered with the red, sticky blood of the man laying on the ground. There was no end to what he wanted to do to the man laying here, all the pain and rage and mistakes and hurt pouring out of him.

“Like uncle, like nephew,” Lee Man Ho laughed up at him, the taunting face now covered in blood and bruises. Tears blurred in his eyes as he slowed down, his punches becoming less frequent. Like uncle, like nephew.

Suddenly, a bright light tracks down the street, the sound of a car’s tires against the asphalt fills the empty night. Joon hwi turns, his mind suddenly distracted and Lee Man Ho takes his opportunity to push him off, stumbling up. His body was dragging, as he ran off, away from Joon hwi, away from the car.

Still, with bloodied hands, Joon hwi could only stumble back to the side of the road, away from the path of the car as he collapsed once more, his body crumpling down. The pain of his uncle’s betrayal was nothing compared to the guilt and pain of what he had just done. It only came crawling back into his soul, the pit in his stomach only deeper than ever.

The car rushed down the street, but oddly, it started slowing down, nearing where he sat against the side of the road before stopping fully. The bright light of the car shone into his eyes, only able to squint as someone got out of the driver’s seat, a figure approaching him. On instinct, Joon hwi crawled back, danger and warning bells ringing in his mind.

“Joon hwi?” an alarmed voice rang out, and Joon hwi jerked his head up to see Kang Sol tower over him, concern etched in her face. His Kang Sol. He could only blink at her, his mouth unable to form any words to greet her, to tell her what he’d done, to tell her what he is.

“Are you alright?” she asked him, her voice soothing as she knelt in front of him, her hands carefully placed around his jaw and his face, turning it in her hands to face her. Still, he blinked back.

Her gaze was so gentle, as if she knew. Her touch was so soft, her nimble hands cupping his face as if he deserved the kindness. Here was the woman he had wrongfully convicted, the woman he had almost put in jail, then taken back in as a lawyer to undo his own wrongdoing.

Like uncle, like nephew.

The thought raced through his mind as the tears fell from his eyes, his body shuddering with the withheld pain and anger. They only fell faster, as her hands moved against his waist to pull him to her, wrapping her arms around his exhausted form.

“I was– I was wrong, I was always wrong." he shuddered out the words, the tears choking him. His body shuddered again as he cried into her shoulder, the tears and pain wracking his body.

“My uncle. He was–” he started, but his mouth paused, unable to finish the sentence.

“Shh, I know, I know,” she soothed him, dragging him closer into her embrace.

“You know?” his voice cracked asking her, as he pulled away slightly to look at him.

“Bok-gi told me. Well, Ji ho told the both of them, concerned for you and Bok-gi called me to go look for you. I had to track your location through your phone,” Sol explained, her voice especially soft as she nervously shifted his hair out his eyes.

The pain only grew inside him, the tears still falling as he struggled to apologize, to explain, to say something to the woman in front of him.

“If I had based everything off of my uncle’s morals, the tenants of the law that he had taught me...” he paused, looking up at her, his eyes pleading her to tell him he’s wrong. “Then what if I’m wrong? What if I had been wrong this whole time, and... and every arrest and argument I made as a prosecutor was wrong?”

There was a silence that enveloped him, as he cried harder, his body shuddering at the thought that everything leading him was wrong. Everything he used as a guidance was wrong.

“You’re not your uncle, Joon hwi,” Sol told him, her voice firm as she looked at him. He peered into her eyes then, as she repeated the phrase to him, almost soothingly. “You’re acknowledging it, apologizing for it. Something your uncle never did. You’re not your uncle.”

Still, it wasn’t enough to override his mind as he lay there, in her embrace, the exhaustion preventing him from moving. And she stayed there, by his side, drawing him in as she repeated the soothing words. Until he was all run out of tears. Until his sadness gave into exhaustion.

#user: sxfik #kang sol a #kang sol b #seo ji ho #han joon hwi #ryu hye young #kim beom #lee david #lee sookyung #law school #law school jtbc #jtbc law school #law school kdrama #law school netflix #solhwi #jisolB #my writing #kang sol a x han joon hwi

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early2000smovieimagines · 3 years

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Meeting and Dating Tim Sullivan

(My gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(This movie was genuinely amazing. Thank you for bringing it to my attention.)

- There isn’t an exact memory that you can recall when explaining how you met Tim. It was probably some time around the first grade; you knew you’d gone to the same school since then. You also knew that you’d drifted in and out of each other’s lives; through being placed in the same classes, after that.

- Regardless, you and him weren’t close, not for a long time at least. You were aware of each other’s existence sure, but only as peers, passing faces on the classroom or hallway.

- It wasn’t until around the seventh grade that you actually became acquainted. It was around that time that you started using your allowance to visit the comic stand after school. That was where Tim first became interested in you, him and the other; at the time, two boys.

- You’d just finished buying an issue and were beginning to walk home when him and his friends rolled up on their bikes. You glanced at them for a moment as you continued to walk, noticing that their eyes moved from the comic in your hands to your face in surprise. You paid it no mind.

- You were the topic of conversation for nearly an hour. They voiced their disbelief, then made some raunchy comments, and then, they trailed off with an earnest “maybe we should, I don’t know, ask if she wants to hang out or something.”.

- They were kind of at a loss; a pretty girl who likes comics was a weeks worth of soapy rag material. They all just stopped mentioning you and moved onto a different topic after that.

- The next day, the boys lingered at the front entrance, pretending like they weren’t watching you as you walked towards the school, pausing as you waited for the first bell to ring.

“Well, is anybody gonna go talk to her?” Tim had been the first one to speak. Everyone remained silent and he scoffed. “Fine you pansies, I’ll do it.”

- As you can imagine, you were a bit surprised to be approached by the boy as you leaned against the school gate. You politely returned his greeting before glancing back at the school awkwardly.

“So...swamp thing, huh?”

-The comment threw you for a loop until you remembered the previous day. Nodding, you expressed your interest in the comic and asked if he was a fan as well, prompting a mini conversation that was interrupted by the bell ringing.

- Just before the two of you said goodbye, he invited you to hang out with him and his friends after school, an offer you awkwardly; somewhat, accepted as you began to walk inside.

“Yeah, I mean that should be fine. …See ya.”

- They waited for you in front of the school after classes let out, debating with each other on whether they should just go as you were a bit late. Thankfully though, you showed up at just the right time, apologizing and explaining that Assumpta had kept you late to help her after class.

- They all sweetly assured you that it was fine, as though half of them weren’t just planning on ditching you. And thus, you began your journey to their usual hangout and your subsequent friendship with the group of boys.

- Fast forward a year or so, you’re a certified member of the group, contributor to the comic, and Tim's “secret” crush. Everyone in the group besides you knows that he has a thing for you and it’s one of the few things they can actually make fun of him for.

- It’s around that time that you realize you like him too and; unable to deal with your sudden feelings, start acting all quiet and sort of weird around him. He takes notice of your hesitance to be alone with him and your odd behavior and the next time you wind up alone together, he asks you about it. You insist that nothing is wrong and he starts to badger you.

- One thing leads to another and soon enough you’re wrestling each other around the room. After a bit of struggling, you manage to pin him down, angrily telling him to shut up as you straddle his torso. Both your chests are heaving as you stare down at him and he stares up at you. You stay like that for a long, quiet moment before you climb off of him, grabbing your things and booking it out of your gangs little hideout.

- He lays on the floor for a while before he leaves as well, showing up at your house later that day and acting like nothing happened, convincing you to come do something with him. In an effort to forget about what happened and just smooth things over, you agree.

- Soon enough, everything is back to normal, but after a while of the two of you busying yourselves with whatever it is you were doing, silence falls upon you and he asks if you “want to talk about it”.

- You tell him you like a guy and he nods, his heart clenching in his chest as he teases you lightly. He asks you who it is and you remain quiet. He nudges you with his shoulder and begins to teasingly pester you until you tell him it’s someone in your group. You cant even begin to imagine how shitty that makes him feel.

“Francis?” He asks, almost as though he already knows the answer. Your denying it genuinely surprises him. “Wade?” Wrong again.“...Joey?” he asks as though it’s the most unbelievable thing he’s ever heard. You shake your head without looking at him.

“Then...,” The two of you sit in silence as it dawns on him. You remain silent when he finally, tentatively asks “Me?”

“Can I kiss you?” You turn your head to look at him before slowly nodding, a small smile threatens to pull at his lips as he leans in.

- His hand hovers at the side of your face as he softly presses his lips to yours. When you break apart, you look into each others eyes for a long moment before his hand finally touches your skin and he kisses you again; this time with more confidence.

- The two of you spend the rest of the day stealing kisses and wandering around the overgrown and abandoned parts of town. You suppose you could consider this your first date, mainly because it’s so similar to what you usually do for “dates”.

- And thus, you begin your relationship with the rebellious alter boy.

- Not a lot of Pda happens in your relationship. You’re both sorta young and inexperienced so there’s that constant “should I, shouldn’t I” internal debate when it comes to affection. Most of the time, he leans towards the “wait until you’re alone” side of things.

- That being said, when you are alone, he’s much more willing to be affectionate; albeit it with a bit of juvenile hesitance.

- While he certainly wouldn’t mind feeling you up, he’s sort of more interested in the innocent aspects of romance. He isn’t really in a huge rush to “make it” with you; he likes kissing and hugging just fine.

- Shoulder kisses.

- Soft, sorta slow kisses. When you first got together, you hadn’t expected him to be so ...sweet when he kissed you. You expected hard and quick but you were pleasantly surprised.

- Makeout sessions.

- Kissing you is therapeutic for him. Whenever he just wants to get away from the world, he likes to lean over and press his lips to yours.

- He likes to be the big spoon and nuzzle his forehead into your hair/back of your neck. With that being said, he can cuddle in just about any position the place you’re in will allow.

- He likes your odd quirks, he thinks they make you cool. You’re out of the ordinary and so is he; you make a good couple.

- Constant teasing.

- As much as he likes to tease you, he likes to compliment you just as much. He’s always eager to tell you when you do something well, insisting that you do or that it’s true when you try to brush off his praise.

- He gives you a specific nickname, something that only he would ever call you. He likes having that special little connection.

- Getting notes sent to you. Excuse me, poems with notes at the end.

- He’s obviously got a pretty rough home life and has dealt with some tough shit over the past few years. He doesn’t really like talking about it so you just have to be there for him when he wants to hang out and get away from it all; though he’s sort of used to it by now.

- He doesn’t invite you over a lot, for obvious reasons.

- Sneaking out at night to go hang out with him.

- Spending hours together. The two of you are out of your houses from early in the morning to late at night whenever you can be.

- You act like really close friends more than you do a couple at times, most people at your school sort of assume you’re just friends because of it.

- The two of you sort of just hang out together rather than go out on typical dates.

- Reading comics. He likes either lying his head on your shoulder or having you lay your head on his.

- Riding your bikes together.

- Dates at abandoned buildings.

- Walking through the woods and marshes together.

- Skinny dipping/swimming in the lakes of your town.

- Cloud gazing. You lay together and just stare at the sky.

- You’ve significantly lowered his need to make trouble since you’re always there when he’s bored. Does he want to go destroy something or kiss you? Its a hard decision.

- Deep, sometimes dark conversations. He’s been forced to grow up sort of quickly and because of that he knows just how cruel the world can be. Sometimes, he just can’t help but talk to you about it and, sometimes without even realizing it, ruin your wall of innocence and naivety.

- Dark humor and morbid jokes. He’s a sick monkey.

- Whenever he gets a cut, scrape or bruise, he’ll always teasingly ask you to kiss it. He tells himself that he’s just messing with you but whenever you actually do do it, he’s both flustered and pleased.

- I feel like Tim would use any injury he gets to draw your attention to him, even if it really doesnt hurt that much. It would be especially common before the two of you started dating. He just likes having you focused on him and touching him gently.

- Drawing and writing on his cast.

- Helping him with his pranks. He always tells you that he can’t do it without you; he knows that it breaks your resolve.

- He’s an adrenaline junkie; he likes dangerous stunts and getting his heart racing so expect to be involved in a few scenarios that would give your parents a heart attack.

- Getting high/drunk with him or just dealing with him while he’s high/drunk. Don’t worry, he’s usually pretty mellow, especially when he gets high.

- He can notice when something’s wrong and will always ask “whats the matter with you”. He’s usually pretty good at making you feel better, even if it’s just by saying something stupid and not judging you.

- Just a fair warning, you shouldn’t trust him with secrets that involve people he knows or involves something that he might just so happen to leak into a conversation.

- Tim hates being ignored, mainly because hes so ignored at home. He always gets sorta angry/upset when you don’t give him attention.

- He can get really jealous in certain situations though he’s just a jealous person in general. It’s primarily because he cares about you so much and doesnt want to take a chance on having the one real good thing in his life leaving him.

- He’s not necessarily protective but he is caring. He’s always looking after you, even when you’re fighting or angry with each other. He doesn’t ever want anything happening to you.

- Aren’t you even gonna ask me if I’m pissed? I wouldn’t say Tim has a short temper but certain things do make him really angry and will cause the two of you to fight. He doesn’t yell, he hates yelling, but he will say the occasional insulting thing or tell you; very seriously, not to do something ever again.

- That being said, he calms down very quickly and remains calm if you’re the one who’s upset. He earnestly asks if you want to talk about it when you seem to just be upset because of something else, even if you just tore into him.

- He always tries to just ignore the fact that you’ve been fighting and move on, smoothing things over like they never happened. He doesn’t need an apology but if he thinks you deserve one, he’ll give it to you.

- He doesn’t tell you he loves you very often but he’ll occasionally surprise you with one, usually when you least expect it or when he’s really thinking about how much you mean to him and how well you treat him.

- Tim doesn’t talk about the future with you very often, sometimes he’ll mention something he wants to do in life or jokingly talk about what you’re gonna do together but that’s about it.

- As awful as his parents marriage is, it surprisingly hasn’t ruined his view on the matter. He; very maturely, tells himself that he’ll never be like them and that when; not if, the two of you get married, you’ll be so much better.

#Tim Sullivan imagine #Tim Sullivan headcanons #Tim Sullivan imagines #Tim Sullivan headcanon #the dangerous lives of alter boys imagine #the dangerous lives of alter boys headcanons #the dangerous lives of alter boys headcanon #the dangerous lives of alter boys imagines #early 2000s movie headcanon #early 2000s movie headcanons #early 2000s movie imagine #2000s movie headcanon #2000s movie headcanons #2000s movie imagine #the dangerous lives of alter boys

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lungsareforlove · 3 years

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HI I LOVE YOU EVEN IF YOU DONT LOVE YOU RIGHT NOW

anyways that’s probably not helpful in distracting you. So:

1. What is the best thing you’ve read so far today?

2. If you are a hero going on a quest, what would the quest be, where would it take you in the world (or fantasy world), who would be your companions, and how would you get there?

3. Do you ever journal- does it work for you? What do you write if you journal? Do you have the same prompts, or do you sit down and just write whatever’s on your mind? I’m not great at journaling, and I think I want to be better at it.

hello 🥺😭 mx I don't even know your name but I absolutely love and adore you 😞 I miss you so much but if you're not in this hellsite that means things are better for you irl and that makes me happy 💟 warning this is reaaaallly long. maybe the onceler ass edit long

1. What is the best thing you’ve read so far today?

I was searching through my gallery for something to cheer me up, and I saw this pic from The Time Traveller's Wife:

I didn't read much today :(( costs too much energy. I have like, 4 books and 10 pdfs that I haven't read. and I want to, but I can't :((

2. If you are a hero going on a quest, what would the quest be, where would it take you in the world (or fantasy world), who would be your companions, and how would you get there?

THIS IS SUCH A FUN ASK!?!

Hero: I resonate so much with paladins. I'm more of a fighter type that uses some magic but doesn't wholly rely on it. I'll be the short but explosive trope. (also. righteous anger. FUCKK)

Quest: Preventing the barriers that blocks the Otherworld (working on the name) from this reality. It needs to be resealed every ten years or so from both sides at the same time. The time for resealing will become apparent bc humans would pop up in random places (they were driving/cycling/walking then got lost. too many wrong turns and they ended up in there). And in turn, flora, fauna, and other sentient creatures end up here. These humans, when found, would be manhandled to the city and forced to go to this quest. Also these humans are like. running away from their lives and have a sense of adventure. It's different this time, though. The barriers tear with time naturally, but now there seems to be someone or something destroying them on purpose.

Where It Takes Us: travelling a LOT. I would want to see everything, exposed to their cultures and such! (plus the Tears are also the way back home) Including but not limited to: wading through a beautiful swamp and meeting swamp creatures, sailing a fucking ETHEREAL ocean and swimming down an underwater cave, trekking a mountain range to kill a dragon but end up befriending her and her kids, climbing a huge tree to save a little kid that's stuck on the top, hunting creatures that blend into the shadows, etc.

Companions: with the narrative, I honestly won't have a choice. I could say that elias, paul, justin, and I were walking somewhere together and got lost. coincidentally (wink) you, ren, and kat are there too 😌💟 and other random people. I also would love a murder of crows as animal companions 🥺 and also we would have people from that world travelling along with us, to help with the seals and as guides.

How would we get there: like I said, we have to get lost first, then found, then get back home through the tear. that's the only time we'll ever be there though, since it doesn't call the same humans twice.

I came up with this on the spot don't judge me for how childish it sounds 😞🙏🏽 fun ask tho 💟💟

i've tried in the past. nope it hasn't worked for me but i'm stubborn. i'll keep trying. if you're talking about a daily journal. I have a "bad times" journal for when I'm overflowing with negative emotions again (like earlier)

here's some photos of my failed attempts:

on the left is what was supposed to be a fun kind of journal, then things stopped being fun in my life. on the right is a journal mom gave to me in 2020. it's the best paper. I was so excited about This Savage Song 😌💟 it's very dear to me. no I don't look at it objectively I allow myself to have happy things.

but! your ask reminded me that I do have an ongoing project of sorts!

I take quotes that I like from books and paste them together. they may or may not form a narrative. this was before I knew what web weaving was.

a problem that I had before is comparing what I did to others. theirs were pretty and aesthetic and organized. I had a talk with myself and said, "the reason why we can't make a proper journal is that we try so hard to be pretty and perfect. we rip out pages when we spell something wrong or colored past the lines. we're not them. we're not pretty. or perfect. or aesthetic. we're messy. we make mistakes. stop trying to be pretty and just be yourself."

so yeah I love that weird little notebook. I also rip out weird drawings I do when I feel horrible and stick them:

and I also put words that I think are pretty and spill my problems out! I'd give a pic but I think I hit the picture limit. oh wait I didn't. here:

oh I did. sad. i'll give the words one instead of the sad one.

thank you for this ask! it helped me a lot more than you might think! I hope you're doing well in your side of the world. stay safe!

#thank you for the ask 🥺💟💟💟#about hiwaga #hiwaga.txt

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newstfionline · 3 years

Text

Monday, September 20, 2021

Biden’s Entire Presidential Agenda Rests on Expansive Spending Bill (NYT) Biden’s entire presidential agenda is riding on the reconciliation bill being crafted in Congress right now. No president has ever packed as much of his agenda, domestic and foreign, into a single piece of legislation as President Biden has with the $3.5 trillion spending plan that Democrats are trying to wrangle through Congress over the next six weeks,” Tankersley writes. “It is almost as if President Franklin D. Roosevelt had stuffed his entire New Deal into one piece of legislation, or if President Lyndon B. Johnson had done the same with his Great Society, instead of pushing through individual components over several years. If he succeeds, Biden’s far-reaching attempt could result in a presidency-defining victory that delivers on a decades-long campaign by Democrats to expand the federal government to combat social problems and spread the gains of a growing economy to workers. If he fails, he could end up with nothing. As Democrats are increasingly seeing, the sheer weight of Mr. Biden’s progressive push could cause it to collapse, leaving the party empty-handed, with the president’s top priorities going unfulfilled. … If Mr. Biden’s party cannot find consensus on those issues and the bill dies, the president will have little immediate recourse to advance almost any of those priorities.

Child care in the US is a ‘broken market,’ Treasury report finds (Yahoo Money) A Treasury Department report this week characterized the U.S. child care system as “unworkable” as Democrats push reform that experts say is an “overdue and critical investment.” The average American family with at least one child under age 5 uses 13% of their income to pay for child care, according to the report, nearly double the 7% that the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services considers affordable. Additionally, less than 20% of the children eligible for the Child Care and Development Fund—a federal assistance program for low-income families—are getting that funding. “Child care is a textbook example of a broken market, and one reason is that when you pay for it, the price does not account for all the positive things it confers on our society,” Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen said in a statement on Wednesday. “When we underinvest in child care, we forgo that; we give up a happier, healthier, more prosperous labor force in the future.”

Inspiration4 Astronauts Beam After Return From 3-Day Journey to Orbit (NYT) After three days in orbit, a physician assistant, a community college professor, a data engineer and the billionaire who financed their trip arrived back on Earth, heralding a new era of space travel with a dramatic and successful Saturday evening landing in the Atlantic Ocean. The mission, which is known as Inspiration4, splashed down off the Florida coast at 7:06 p.m. on Saturday. Each step of the return unfolded on schedule, without problems. Within an hour, all four crew members walked out of the spacecraft, one at a time, each beaming with excitement as recovery crews assisted them.

Haitians on Texas border undeterred by US plan to expel them (AP) Haitian migrants seeking to escape poverty, hunger and a feeling of hopelessness in their home country said they will not be deterred by U.S. plans to speedily send them back, as thousands of people remained encamped on the Texas border Saturday after crossing from Mexico. Scores of people waded back and forth across the Rio Grande on Saturday afternoon, re-entering Mexico to purchase water, food and diapers in Ciudad Acuña before returning to the Texas encampment under and near a bridge in the border city of Del Rio. Junior Jean, a 32-year-old man from Haiti, watched as people cautiously carried cases of water or bags of food through the knee-high river water. Jean said he lived on the streets in Chile the past four years, resigned to searching for food in garbage cans. “We are all looking for a better life,” he said.

Three Weeks After Hurricane Ida, Parts of Southeast Louisiana Are Still Dark (NYT) For Tiffany Brown, the drive home from New Orleans begins as usual: She can see the lights on in the city’s central business district and people gathering in bars and restaurants. But as she drives west along Interstate 10, signs of Hurricane Ida’s destruction emerge. Trees with missing limbs fill the swamp on either side of the highway. With each passing mile, more blue tarps appear on rooftops, and more electric poles lay fallen by the road, some snapped in half. By the time Ms. Brown gets to her exit in Destrehan 30 minutes later, the lights illuminating the highway have disappeared, and another night of total darkness has fallen on her suburban subdivision. For Ms. Brown, who works as an office manager at a pediatric clinic, life at work can feel nearly normal. But at home, with no electricity, it is anything but. “I keep hoping every day that I’m going to go home and it’ll be on,” she said. Three weeks have passed since Hurricane Ida knocked down electric wires, poles and transmission towers serving more than one million people in southeast Louisiana. In New Orleans, power was almost entirely restored by Sept. 10, and businesses and schools have reopened. But outside the city, more than 100,000 customers were without lights through Sept. 13. As of Friday evening there were still about 38,000 customers without power, and many people remained displaced from damaged homes.

Favela centennial shows Brazil communities’ endurance (AP) Dozens of children lined up at a community center in Sao Paulo for a slice of creamy, blue cake. None was celebrating a birthday; their poor neighborhood, the favela of Paraisopolis, was commemorating 100 years of existence. “People started coming (to the city) for construction jobs and settled in,” community leader Gilson Rodrigues said. “There was no planning, not even streets. People started growing crops. It was all disorganized. Authorities didn’t do much, so we learned to organize ourselves.” The favela’s centennial, which was marked on Thursday, underscores the permanence of its roots and of other communities like it, even as Brazilians in wealthier parts of town often view them as temporary and precarious. Favelas struggle to shed that stigma as they defy simple definition, not least because they evolved over decades. Paraisopolis is Sao Paulo’s second-biggest favela, home to 43,000 people, according to the most-recent census, in 2010. Recent, unofficial counts put its population around 100,000.

The barbecue king: British royals praise Philip’s deft touch (AP) When Prince Philip died nearly six months ago at 99, the tributes poured in from far and wide, praising him for his supportive role at the side of Queen Elizabeth II over her near 70-year reign. Now, it has emerged that Philip had another crucial role within the royal family. He was the family’s barbecue king—perhaps testament to his Greek heritage. “He adored barbecuing and he turned that into an interesting art form,” his oldest son Prince Charles said in a BBC tribute program that will be broadcast on Wednesday. “And if I ever tried to do it he ... I could never get the fire to light or something ghastly, so (he’d say): ‘Go away!’” In excerpts of ‘Prince Philip: The Royal Family Remembers’ released late Saturday, members of the royal family spoke admiringly of the late Duke of Edinburgh’s barbecuing skills. “Every barbecue that I’ve ever been on, the Duke of Edinburgh has been there cooking,” said Prince William, Philip’s oldest grandson. “He’s definitely a dab hand at the barbecue ... I can safely say there’s never been a case of food poisoning in the family that’s attributed to the Duke of Edinburgh.” The program, which was filmed before and after Philip’s death on April 9, was originally conceived to mark his 100th birthday in June.

Relations between France and the U.S. have sunk to their lowest level in decades. (NYT) The U.S. and Australia went to extraordinary lengths to keep Paris in the dark as they secretly negotiated a plan to build nuclear submarines, scuttling a defense contract worth at least $60 billion. President Emmanuel Macron of France was so enraged that he recalled the country’s ambassadors to both nations. Australia approached the new administration soon after President Biden’s inauguration. The conventionally powered French subs, the Australians feared, would be obsolete by the time they were delivered. The Biden administration, bent on containing China, saw the deal as a way to cement ties with a Pacific ally. But the unlikely winner is Britain, who played an early role in brokering the alliance. For its prime minister, Boris Johnson, who will meet this coming week with Biden at the White House and speak at the U.N., it is his first tangible victory in a campaign to make post-Brexit Britain a player on the global stage.

Hong Kong’s first ‘patriots-only’ election kicks off (Reuters) Fewer than 5,000 Hong Kong people from mostly pro-establishment circles began voting on Sunday for candidates to an election committee, vetted as loyal to Beijing, who will pick the city’s next China-backed leader and some of its legislature. Pro-democracy candidates are nearly absent from Hong Kong’s first election since Beijing overhauled the city’s electoral system to ensure that “only patriots” rule China’s freest city. The election committee will select 40 seats in the revamped Legislative Council in December, and choose a chief executive in March. Changes to the political system are the latest in a string of moves—including a national security law that punishes anything Beijing deems as subversion, secession, terrorism or collusion with foreign forces—that have placed the international financial hub on an authoritarian path. Most prominent democratic activists and politicians are now in jail or have fled abroad.

The Remote-Control Killing Machine (Politico/NYT) For 14 years, Israel wanted to kill Iran’s top nuclear scientist. Then they came up with a way to do it while using a trained sniper who was more than 1,000 miles away—and fired remotely. It was also the debut test of a high-tech, computerized sharpshooter kitted out with artificial intelligence and multiple-camera eyes, operated via satellite and capable of firing 600 rounds a minute. The souped-up, remote-controlled machine gun now joins the combat drone in the arsenal of high-tech weapons for remote targeted killing. But unlike a drone, the robotic machine gun draws no attention in the sky, where a drone could be shot down, and can be situated anywhere, qualities likely to reshape the worlds of security and espionage.

Israeli army arrests last 2 of 6 Palestinian prison escapees (AP) Israeli forces on Sunday arrested the last two of six Palestinian prisoners who escaped a maximum-security Israeli prison two weeks ago, closing an intense, embarrassing episode that exposed deep security flaws in Israel and turned the fugitives into Palestinian heroes. The Israeli military said the two men surrendered in Jenin, their hometown in the occupied West Bank, after they were surrounded at a hideout that had been located with the help of “accurate intelligence.” The prisoners all managed to tunnel out of a maximum-security prison in northern Israel on Sept. 6. The bold escape dominated newscasts for days and sparked heavy criticism of Israel’s prison service. According to various reports, the men dug a hole in the floor of their shared cell undetected over several months and managed to slip past a sleeping prison guard after emerging through a hole outside the facility. Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza Strip have celebrated the escape and held demonstrations in support of the prisoners. Taking part in attacks against the Israeli military or even civilians is a source of pride for many Palestinians, who view it as legitimate resistance to military occupation.

Jaw-dropping moments in WSJ's bombshell Facebook investigation (CNN Business) This week the Wall Street Journal released a series of scathing articles about Facebook, citing leaked internal documents that detail in remarkably frank terms how the company is not only well aware of its platforms’ negative effects on users but also how it has repeatedly failed to address them. Here are some of the more jaw-dropping moments from the Journal’s series. In the Journal’s report on Instagram’s impact on teens, it cites Facebook’s own researchers’ slide deck, stating the app harms mental health. “We make body image issues worse for one in three teen girls,” said one slide from 2019, according to the WSJ. Another reads: “Teens blame Instagram for increases in the rate of anxiety and depression ... This reaction was unprompted and consistent across all groups.” In 2018, Facebook CEO Mark Zuckerberg said a change in Facebook’s algorithm was intended to improve interactions among friends and family and reduce the amount of professionally produced content in their feeds. But according to the documents published by the Journal, staffers warned the change was having the opposite effect: Facebook was becoming an angrier place. A team of data scientists put it bluntly: “Misinformation, toxicity and violent content are inordinately prevalent among reshares,” they said, according to the Journal’s report.

#headlines #news

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thewritewolf · 5 years

Text

Clap of Thunder Chapter 25: Protect

Back home from their honeymoon, Marinette and Adrien adjust back to life in Paris.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30

@adrinetteapril

Read on Ao3

Their honeymoon passed by in absolute bliss and the two of them returned to their home feeling refreshed and renewed, ready to take on anything that their lives could throw at them.

Which turned out to be quite a lot.

The moment Marinette got back into Paris she was buried in a sea of people trying to contact her for one thing or another, not to mention the numerous side projects and commissions she had already placed on the back burner. But she didn’t get this far by being easily dissuaded by overwhelming odds. She simply rolled up her sleeves and got to work wading through the quagmire and trying to at least get a list of everything she needed to do.

While she was working on just such a list, she was tugged backwards, letting out a squawk of protest as she fell into Adrien’s arms. “Hey! What’re you doing?”

He tapped the table she had almost walked right into while distracted. “You’re welcome, Bugaboo. Why don’t you sit down while writing that?”

“Pacing helps me think… Besides, I’m full of energy right now. I need to burn some of it off somehow.”

Letting her go, he returned to the kitchen. “Well, how about after we make lunch, we go out for a walk in the park? I know that really gets your creativity flowing.”

“Sounds great!” Marinette sat down at their kitchen table while Adrien did most of the cooking. It had been an… interesting couple months when they first moved in together since he didn’t have any domestic experience. There had been lots of take out ordered over the burned remains of a dinner, but he had gotten there eventually.

She had almost completely zoned out when she heard Adrien say, “Hey, can you get the vegetables? I think they’re done, or pretty close to it.”

Still paying more attention to her list than the world around her, she reached out for the pan and-

Adrien caught her by the wrist. “Mari. Love of my life. Sun in my sky. The pan is hot.” He put on an oven mitt and transferred the steaming vegetables onto a plate with the rest of the meal. Smiling, he shook his head and asked, “So is this what I’m going to be looking forward to in this marriage? Keeping an eye on you while we’re together to make sure we don’t have any unplanned hospital visits?”

Marinette snorted. “You knew I was clumsy when you signed up, kitty, and you’ve been my protector ever since you put on your miraculous.” She shivered as she remembered the many close calls they’d had over the years, running a hand along his spine as she did so. How many times had he nearly lost him? “No matter how much I sometimes wish you weren’t.”

He turned around and brushed the hair out of her face. “Princess... you don’t have to worry about that any more. We’re safe now.”

“Well, safe as you can be,” Plagg said around the cheese in his mouth from his place near the ceiling. “Plenty of dangers just in the mundane world.”

“Plagg!” She heard the comforting sound of Tikki swatting Plagg’s arm. “Don’t worry them!”

“Yeah yeah, whatever…”

Eyes sparkling with mirth, Adrien added, “What can go wrong with two immortal guardians watching over us?”

“I know, I know.” She sat down and got to work on eating her lunch, eyes still on her list.

“So is that your work schedule you’re figuring out?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Will you, uh, have be free around this time next week?”

Marinette looked up at Adrien, and the witty retort died in her throat when she saw how he was resolutely staring down at his food morosely.

“Kitty, what’s wrong?”

“So I was invited to a charity event and I… didn’t want to go alone.” He looked up and rubbed the back of his neck. “I completely get if you are swamped with work and can’t go! I just don’t like when they catch me by myself.”

He didn’t need to explain who - while the worst of it had died down, some reporters still liked taking shots at Adrien when they got the chance. Her lips pursed into a thin line and she reached over to take Adrien’s hand in her own.

“It’s my turn to help protect you. We’ll go together.”

He looked at her with tender affection as he relaxed, tension leaving his shoulders. “Thank you, bugaboo. It means the world to me.” They shared a long moment of smiling at each other before he suddenly got up and reached into the refrigerator. He returned with two salads. “Now, lettuce eat!”

“Nope, no I take it back. Is it too early for a divorce?”

Adrien simply cackled.

#Miraculous Ladybug #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Adrien Agreste #AdrinetteApril2019 #Adrienette #ml fanfiction #my writing #Clap of Thunder

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slashthedice · 5 years

Note

Hey I absolutely love your work! Could you possibly write a nsfw with the Hag and a male reader? A million bonus points if the reader ends up dying in the end! Thank you so much!

Oh my, anon! (/ε＼*) You certainly like it dangerous! Our dear anon would like to remain anonymous, but they contacted me privately to request some specifics in this one. Lisa needs more love. NSFW below :3

You had always been adventurous. Even when you were young, your mother had warned that your penchant for curious exploration would get you into trouble. As you grew older, that adventurous streak became more of an addiction. You sought the biggest thrills and the greatest risks, but it was never enough. You and danger became scandalously, unconscionably intimate.

However, this had to be the most reckless thing you had ever done.

She herself seemed to be made of the very swamp she called home, molded from the mud and clay. Her hair was more vines and vegetation than anything else, and a small part of you wondered what it had looked and felt like before all this. She was lean and lithe, stalking through the swamp completely unaffected by the grasp and pull of the mud that weighed you down and slowed your steps.

You had been enthralled since the first moment you saw her, elongated talons carving through the back of your fellow survivor. She stood over them and let their drip into her open mouth, the crimson painting her tongue and fingers. A wave of heat flowed through you, unbidden, to settle in your groin. She was lethal, a predator unlike any you had ever encountered. You fell under her spell immediately.

You never expected to get up close and personal with the killer that the other survivors referred to as The Hag, at least not in the way you wanted. Imagine your delight when you finally did.

You weren’t entirely sure how it happened. One after another, your fellow survivors fell and were sacrificed, their last breaths leaving them as shrieks into the night when the Entity took them into its dark embrace. Silence overtook the swamp when the final spectral form was lifted from the trial area. You were alone with her, but she had the home field advantage.

You crept slowly through the cattails, trying to disturb them as little as possible all while maintaining a close eye on the crows perched a scant few meters away. Should they take flight now, your position would be revealed and you would have next to no chance of escaping. Your feet and calves were caked in mud, and with every step you felt like you were being sucked down, down into the swamp as if it were hungry for you, body and soul, anxious to make you part of it. You wondered idly if that was what had happened to her.

Your nose and lungs were filled with the pungent, musky scent of the swamp. That ever present and overpowering smell of stagnant water and decay combined with the underlying scent of gasoline from a nearby generator assaulted your senses, causing your eyes to water. You listened to the puttering of machinery and the occasional squawk of the crows that watched you with unnerving black eyes, but you did not hear the Hag.

You glanced over your shoulder for just a moment too long, not watching where you were going and not paying attention to the anxious shuffling of talons and feathers upon the nearby rock. You realized your mistake when the disturbed avians took flight, announcing your presence with their shrill cries and beating wings. You froze, waiting for the telltale rapid beat of your heart or the gurgling hiss of her breathing down your neck. Waiting was a mistake.

Sooner than you could react, you heard the slap of her feet against the mucky ground and your heart was in your throat just as suddenly. She wasn’t as fast as some of the other killers, but she was faster than you, especially when you were wading through mud and foliage. You caught a glimpse of her before you propelled yourself forward, moonlight streaming through the tree limbs and hanging spanish moss dappled upon the root-like texture and pattern of her greyed skin. You realized with a sort of reverence that she was a true force of nature.

The rake of her clawed fingers down your back came much sooner than expected. She sliced through the fabric of your shirt and jacket, and your skin and muscle tore just as easily. You cried out at the pain, but it was numbed by the adrenaline coursing through you. You pushed on, and tried not to imagine her tasting your blood as you knew she would be. Such thoughts were more distracting than you could afford.

She was on you again before you could run more than a couple meters, but this time instead of the bite of claws against your skin you were shoved to the ground by the full force of her weight against your back. Your mouth was full of mud, the taste of stagnant water and silt making you gag. She was crouched on top of you, boney extremities digging into your back and causing the wounds there to burn.

Her arm that wasn’t elongated and clawed reached towards you, fingers wrapping around your shoulder. She shuffled around so that she could flip you onto your back, now looking down at you whilst straddling your hips. The muck seeped through your ruined shirt to intermingle with the blood oozing from the slashes on your back, causing you to hiss in pain. It hurt, and when you arched up away from the ground, she sat more firmly against you and pushed your chest down, claws drumming threateningly against your chest.

Despite the pain, you couldn’t help but to look up at her with nothing short of awe. Even the slightest movement from you prompted her to grind her emaciated hips down into yours and you were keenly aware of the pressure and heat that burned between your legs. A particularly rough grind against your clothed sex had you seeing stars and gasping your pleasure.

Her head snapped to look at you. You watched her take in your dazed, heated expression and tilt her head just the slightest to one side. She repeated the motion and you bit down against the inside of your cheek to quiet what would have been a moan in earnest. This seemed to thrill her, causing her to rock against you with more of a rhythm. She sought to pull more of those needy sounds from between your mud-caked lips, and it did not take all that much convincing on her part before they flowed from you.

You were achingly hard and oversensitive from the friction of her grinding against you through the material of your pants. You reached for the clasp, but she swatted your hand away, making a sound somewhere between a growl and a hiss. Her meaning was clear though: you weren’t allowed to touch yourself. You dug your fingers into the mud, shuddering at the feeling of it squishing in your hands.

She leaned over you, hips still rolling and undulating against you. Her sharp teeth grazed your neck, and you grunted against the pinpricks of pain. The knowledge that at any moment she could bite down and rip out your throat had your already labored breathing coming harsher until you were nearly panting. Her tongue felt like sandpaper against your skin when she licked a trail following where her teeth had scraped.

You whined and huffed when she pulled back and snaked her way down your body, biting down as gently as her razor sharp teeth would allow on any exposed skin she came across. You grit your teeth against the pain, but couldn’t deny the pleasurable tremors running through your entire form. When she came to the clasp on your muddied pants, she looked up at you with those black eyes that were both familiar and completely other from your own. You gazed back down at her through half-lidded eyes, cheeks burning and body sensitive to her attentions. You threw your head back when you felt the release of pressure at your groin as her non-clawed hand freed you from your pants and undergarments.

You felt a bolt of anxiety shoot through you. As wonderful as her teeth had felt elsewhere on your body, you really didn’t want them anywhere near your cock. Thankfully, she simply gave it a couple of experimental licks that prompted a garbled string of moans from you. She sat back to watch your reactions, hand wrapping around the base of your shaft and slowly stroking upwards. The leathery texture of her palm and fingers was a completely foreign sensation against your soft skin and hardened flesh.

Once she had you a shaking, whining mess, she crawled back up your body. She placed both hands on your shoulders, holding you in place. You soon discovered that beneath the tattered remains of what might have once been a dress, her sex was uncovered. She had apparently been enjoying working you up nearly as much as you had, the slickness left behind on your cock as she dragged her folds across your hardened length providing more than enough evidence of her arousal.

The entire situation seemed like a dream, a fantasy you played through in your mind as you stroked yourself in secret while hidden in the shadows surrounding the campfire. It was hard to believe this was really happening. God, how you wanted to touch her. You wanted to feel the raised knobs of her spin, and the tough skin drawn tight over her protruding hip bones. You would have loved to twine your fingers with yours and close your lips around the peak of her exposed breast. But every time you tried to raise a hand, she halted you with a snarled flash of her teeth and growled warning. This would be on her terms.

When finally she lowered herself onto you, you groaned loudly and thrashed your head causing more and more mud to mat in your sweat and blood painted hair. You almost missed the pleasured hiss that escaped her, focused only on the velvet heat wrapped tight around your cock. She tortured you with the slow rise and fall of her hips, slickened walls dragging against your sensitive head. You looked down at where you were joined and groaned at the sight of yourself disappearing inside of her. It looked almost as good as it felt.

Your peak built up quickly as she increased her pace. She had apparently tired of toying with you and was seeking out her own release. The cuts on your back still burned, but the sensation was something to focus on so that you could hold out against the tidal wave of your release that was bearing down on you. You felt that familiar tightening and knew that you were getting close.

You were finally pushed over the edge of your pleasure when she made a satisfied sound and slammed down on your hips, sheathing your length fully inside her. You cried out as you spilled into her, digging your nails into your palms so hard that you surely drew blood. She rode you through your orgasm until you were trembling and moaning from oversensitivity. She sat back against you with a light huff, staring down at your reddened face and considering your ravished expression.

In the glowing aftermath of your release, you were putty beneath her. You felt weak and boneless as the orgasmic aftershocks shook your limbs. You were helpless and pliant, softening member still trapped within her heat. You realized what would come next when she raised the elongated, clawed arm above her head.

Talons burrowed through your flesh and bone with a deadly accuracy. You choked on your own blood as it filled your throat and spilled from your mouth while the sharpened points of her fingers were still buried in your chest. The pain was excruciating and maddening, albeit brief. As you bled out and choked on the warmth of your life source, you watched with awe and disbelief as she pulled your heart from your chest cavity. The last thing you saw before darkness overtook you was her razorblade teeth carving through the organ in her grasp, crimson liquid dripping down her chin.

#the hag #lisa sherwood #the hag x reader #lisa sherwood x reader #slasher imagines #slashers x reader #dead by daylight #dbd #dbd imagines #asks #anon #male reader #smut

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madscientistjournal · 4 years

Text

Fiction: Jehovah's Feathers

An essay by Mary Magdalene Farconi, as provided by K. Kitts Art by Leigh Legler

Strapped in his bouncy seat, my son Tyler went off at the exact same moment as the kitchen timer and the doorbell. I verified that nothing was actually gnawing on him and rushed to the brownies. Paul would have to get the door.

From the living room, Cissie yelled, “It’s the bird people.” Being a good girl, she knew not to open the door to strangers, especially those from another planet.

I yelled, “Paul, get the door,” while I yanked the brownies from the oven.

The Home Owners Association bake sale started at 10 AM, and it was already 10:10. In my head, Mrs. Topher, the HOA president, admonished, “In my day, people respected each other and were on time.”

As I dashed toward Tyler, I mumbled, “Yeah, back when Moses parted the Red Sea, most mothers of young children didn’t have to analyze a 270-page watershed impact statement by Monday.”

Before I unbuckled Tyler from his seat, I smelled his problem. The doorbell rang again. “Paul! Get the door!”

From the living room, Cissie yelled, “The bird people are still here.”

I hustled down the hall with Tyler at arm’s length. His room also served as Paul’s home office. Sure enough. Paul had his earbuds in and was playing some computer game. I hip-butted the back of his chair.

Startled, he yelled, “What the–” but stopped in time. We try not to cuss like muleskinners in front of the kids. I handed Tyler over.

“I’m working, Maggie. You do it.” He tried to pass Tyler back.

The doorbell rang a third time. Cissie called, “The bird people are still still here.”

I said, “One, since when is slaying boss monsters a part of your job? And two, it’s Saturday. We agreed on Saturdays you have to help. No questions asked.” As I stomped to the front door, I muttered, “That is if you ever want to have sex again.”

Hand on the knob, I breathed in deeply and exhaled. Bird people are sensitive. I didn’t want to frighten them because they’d take off in a flurry of feathers and shrieks and dump whatever they had in their cloacas. I didn’t have time to hose off the front porch.

I’d worked with several bird people when I’d served as an analyst for the newly established Alien Affairs Bureau. That was until the AAB’s work rules changed and became intolerable for nursing moms. Two months after Tyler was born, I moved to a clean water non-profit with a short commute. The work wasn’t as important, but my hair had stopped falling out. However, when I opened the door, I wondered whether I’d been out of the loop a little too long.

Instead of a group of sleek greenish-blue peacock-cranes, there stood two bedraggled and dull office drones dressed in modified white button-downs and khakis. Their tails were clipped and their wings pressed tightly against their backs. Even the frills on the tops of their heads drooped. They were both so dull in color, I couldn’t tell whether they were male or female, but given the office casual, I guessed males.

Clutched in one of the T-Rex arms that protruded from beneath his breast, the left bird person held a black book. His colleague grasped a plastic sheet upon which text flickered.

I asked, “May I help you?”

Book bird bobbed his head and pressed the first icon on the squawk box on a chain around his neck. In a mellifluous voice, the box intoned, “Good morning! We are in your neighborhood seeking to expand our flock.”

I frowned. If they were looking for females, they were out of luck. Our HOA categorically refused all building permits for aviaries. And with such poor color, I doubted any female would give them the time of day.

He cocked his head and pressed the second icon. The box asked, “Have you been saved by Jesus?”

I face-palmed. Flocking was extremely important to them. It made sense they’d become a target of some strip mall prophet, but where was their female, and why would she allow this to happen? “To which home nest do you belong?”

“Reverend Vernon P. Hogg,” said the plastic paper bird. He passed the flickering sheet over.

The title read: The Watch Perch. The address running along the top was the old non-denominational church that had sold its parking lot to the highway extension.

Articles flitted past on how Jesus could save the faithful from obesity, drunkenness, and bird lice. “No, I mean your mother bird. Who is she?” I tried to return the plastic paper, but the bird refused to take it.

“Our Most Supreme Singing Heart,” he said.

The book bird squawked and his box translated, “She who laid us has asked us to go into the world and find a new flock.”

That was odd. I’d worked with Singing Heart when they set up the reservation. Alpha females never let go of their sons until they could find another female to take them in. Things had to be bad on the Rez for her to cut them loose.

“Where do you sleep?”

The book bird’s box said, “At the church.”

“Except on bingo night, knitter’s club night, and days with AA meetings.”

“Then we sleep in the park.”

“But that’s more difficult now. They cut down the bushes to keep the homeless out.”

These two were definitely nest-mates.

The phone rang and Paul yelled, “It’s Mrs. Topher. She wants to know where you are.”

“Listen, I’ve got to go. Good luck in finding new flock members.” I shut the door before the bird people could object.

I dumped The Watch Perch into the electronics recycle bin and changed from my mommy clothes–puke-stained shirt and yoga pants–to my work clothes of white shirt and blue pants. My resemblance to the male drones was not lost on me. I grabbed a not too stinky towel from the clothes hamper and nestled the hot pan of brownies on the front floorboards of the van. After fetching Cissie and buckling her into the child seat, Paul strolled out with my purse and Tyler.

He asked, “Aren’t you going to take him with you?”

I tucked my purse behind my seat. “Did you clean out and refill the diaper bag like you promised?”

He made a Homer Simpson d’oh face.

I smiled sweetly. “Then, there’s your answer.”

As I backed out of the driveway, Paul came running from the front door, waving the plastic paper. I powered down the window.

“Take this with you. It keeps crawling out of the recycle bin. It beeps and says you owe at least a five-dollar donation.”

Making a face, I took the paper. “I’ll drop it off at the church on the way back.” I shoved it under the brownies. They were no longer hot enough to melt it. Too bad.

Mrs. Topher was a sturdy woman with a toad-like mouth: thin-lipped and broad. This week her hair was an auburn color on the orange side. She lived on the biggest property with a pool deck the size of our entire house. I would’ve thought a competent stylist was within her budget.

Cissie joined the other kids playing tag outside the HOA’s clubhouse, and I settled in the folding chair next to Mrs. Topher. As I cut and bagged the brownies, she added the label and the price.

“Are these boxed or homemade?”

“I baked them myself.”

She marked them two for a dollar and tossed them in the boxed section. “Because you were forty-five minutes late, I assume you’ll work the table until 12:45?”

It wasn’t a question, but I didn’t mind. There were activities for Cissie, and Mrs. Topher pounced on any poor victim who wandered within ten feet of the table, giving me time to wade through the impact statement. An hour in, Mrs. Topher became agitated after receiving a series of texts and calls.

I tried to ignore her harrumphing and heavy sighs, but it was a losing battle. “You seem upset, Mrs. Topher. Is there anything–”

“The cretin bailed on us.”

I could see Mr. Topher in a cluster of men near the parking lot. So it wasn’t a marital issue.

“This is the third investor. Third! They say they’re interested, but once they see the engineer’s report, they lose my phone number.”

Now I understood. The HOA had been trying to get an investor to take over and finish up the subdivision. The bake sale was to help with attorney’s fees. The original builder had gone belly up when he discovered it was harder to drain a swamp than he’d imagined.

“This idiot is suggesting we donate the land to the state as a designated wetlands.”

“That would take care of–”

Her penciled-in eyebrows arched. “If you’d attended the last meeting, you’d know that the tax write-off will not offset the loss in fees. We’ll have to raise the rates again. If there were only some way we could squash that stupid report.”

“Cuz that wouldn’t be illegal or anything,” I said.

Mrs. Topher stared daggers at me.

By 1:15, Cissie and I were at the church. Vernon P. Hogg himself was setting up chairs for the 2 PM book club. Vern looked forty, despite being much younger. From his teeth, I suspected his drug of choice had been meth.

I handed him the plastic paper. “If this thing finds its way back to my house, I’ll report you for littering.”

He sighed and punched in a code. He dropped it in a pile on an old piano with chipped keys. It calmly sat there no longer flashing or inching toward me like a possessed credit card bill.

“Let’s talk about the two bird people,” I said.

“No, let’s not. I was just trying to help them out, and all they’ve brought me is trouble.” He opened a side door and yelled, “Hey, Larry and Curly! Get your feathered asses in here.”

Cissie hid behind me, staring at the scary man. I folded my arms. “If they’re Larry and Curly, who are you? Moe or Shemp?”

“Very funny. I didn’t pick the names, they did.”

The two bedraggled bird people hustled in, bowing and bobbing their long necks. In unison, they clicked an icon on their boxes. “How may we serve you, Father Hogg?”

I raised an eyebrow. Vernon said quickly, “I tol’ you boys. You’re supposed to say, ‘How may we serve Jesus, Father Hogg?'”

The two bird people looked confused and corrected the text associated with that icon.

“It doesn’t matter.” He waved his fingers as if to shoo chickens. “You two are fired. Get out of my church and go darken someone else’s doorstep.” He turned to me. “Are you happy now?”

The two bird people screeched and flapped their clipped wings. “What have we done wrong? How can we make amends?”

They kept tapping the icons repeating those two sentences until Vernon grabbed a mop handle and threatened to beat them. Cissie burst into tears and threw herself in front of the bird people. Her little arms out wide, she yelled, “I won’t let you hurt them!”

Cissie’s action shocked Vernon. He sighed. “I told you all they do is get me in trouble.”

I rested my hand on Cissie’s head. She melted into my leg, wiping snot and tears on the back of her hand. The bird people clustered behind me and froze, as if that made them invisible.

“Jesus!” Vernon shouted. One of them had dumped his cloaca. “Look what I have to clean up!” He spun around twice on the broken-down heel of his faux alligator boots. “I got people comin’! Payin’ people!”

Good thing he didn’t have a cloaca.

“I don’t want them fired,” I said. “I just don’t want anyone to take advantage of them.”

“Taking advantage, hell. I’m helping them out!”

I pointed to the pile of The Watch Perch. I would’ve waved one in his face, but I feared touching them.

He whined, “I paid their vagrancy tickets for sleeping in the park.”

Hands on hips, I asked, “Did you clip their wings?”

He shook his head. “They have to be clipped to get off the Rez. Some new regulation ‘cuz people claimed they were peeking in windows and messing with security.”

I’d heard about no-fly zones, but I hadn’t thought through all the implications. “Can you keep them for a couple more days while I figure something out?”

“Not those two. They’re dumber than pigeons. I’ll keep the other three.”

“Five? You’re housing five bird people?”

“There’re a dozen under the bridges near the river. They’re pouring off the Rez, and they’re all looking as sad as these two. I think they’re starving.”

I looked at my phone. If I ignored the speed limit, I could get to Singing Heart’s compound in two hours. I called to Cissie, “Sweetheart, help the bird people into the van.”

Cissie’s entire being lit up. “I knew you would save them, mommy. I knew you would!” She herded them like ducks outside. I felt a flicker of pride before reality hit. I hadn’t saved anyone.

Larry and Curly strutted through the backyard, eating insects, while I told Paul what happened. He squatted to Cissie’s level. “Did you really do that? Protect those bird people?” She nodded fiercely. He gave her a bear hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

My heart swelled. I kissed Paul on his neck. “You’re a good man.”

Cissie ran off to tell her dollies about her adventures. I fetched the car keys.

Paul shook his head. “It’s late.”

“I’ve got to see for myself. Something’s up.”

He looped his arm around my neck. “Sweetie, you can’t save the world.”

“No, but I simply walked away, and that’s not working for me either.” The emotion made my voice crack.

“You were burned out. With the commute and Tyler–”

“Yeah, but if I don’t do anything at all, then I’m part of the problem. I don’t want that to be the lesson I teach Cissie.”

He met my eye. “After what Cissie did today, are you seriously worried?”

I smiled but hung my head. Paul got out his wallet and handed me cash.

“What’s this for?”

“Gas. But I’m keeping the rest ‘cuz I’m not making dinner. I’m ordering pizza.”

I entered Reservation land at 4:40. It bordered the river in a swampy valley that produced mostly mosquitoes. Singing Heart’s high status had afforded her first choice in picking her home nest site. It was the closest to the blacktop. The climate was hot and humid, but the birds liked it that way. I kept my windows up and the AC on. Singing Heart’s people on average looked better than the two drones, but there were no children in the crèche and even the females were out in the river working.

The two male guards at the entrance of Singing Heart’s aviary were still resplendent with long tails, elegant wings, and piercing black eyes. They sported the sharpened beak spikes and leg spurs of their class. One recognized me and asked me to wait. He sent a small messenger male inside. After a few minutes, I was ushered into the geodesic dome that functioned as Singing Heart’s main dormitory.

Inside resembled a rain forest arboretum. Industrial fans created a slight breeze and made it easier for me to breathe. I walked slowly to keep from sweating too much. Designed for visitors and fledglings, the path wound upward. The adults glided from perches set along the struts two-thirds of the way up the sides. The top of the curved path opened onto a platform for meetings. Above that sat Singing Heart’s nest. One of her daughters roosted in it. The other nests lay empty.

Singing Heart’s frill was up and her feathers fluffed. On the platform, her brown and green plumage shone brightly in the late afternoon sun, but in the dappled places among the plants, she’d have blended in perfectly. Her neck extended, she stood tall. My eye met her beak. For the first time in her presence, I felt the flutter of discomfort and fear, as if the trouble–whatever it may be–was somehow my fault. I asked, “Did you release two males?”

Singing Heart’s wings came away from her body, and all the other birds in the dome came to attention. “Yes. Why?”

Out of nowhere one of the male guards landed with a thump next to me.

I put my hand out in a placating motion. “They’re at my house.”

Singing Heart lifted her knees one at a time and shook out her feathers. The other birds relaxed, and the guard bird moved to the edge of the platform but did not fly off.

“They are good men, but we have no room for them.”

“May I ask why?”

“Come. Walk with me.”

Singing Heart could’ve glided to the exit in a heartbeat, but she walked slowly, one long stride after another, so I could keep up. Once outside of the dome, Singing Heart flicked her tail feathers. The guard remained behind.

“Children can be impetuous and impatient,” she said.

“Are you talking about these two males?” I asked.

“No. My eldest daughter. She couldn’t control herself and fertilized two eggs. I’m sure you saw her nesting.”

“Are resources so tight that you don’t have room for two more?”

“It’s a matter of leadership. If my home nest doesn’t control its population, I can’t ask that of others.”

“The valley looks lush, is there a shortage of food?”

“Your government insists that unless we put in a water treatment plant, we can have no population growth. They say we’re putting too much nitrogen into the water, but they won’t allow us to sell our technology, or use it to back a security you call municipal bonds.”

I pretended to examine the foliage to hide my chagrin. Singing Heart could read facial expressions, and her sight was superior to humans. Like most avians, she had an extra protein in the back of her eye and could see into the ultraviolet range. Her home star was very active and produced a lot of UV. In fact, it had become so active, it was eroding their planet’s atmosphere. That’s why they’d come to Earth, refugees from a natural disaster.

It was my fault. The clean water non-profit I worked for had been responsible for some of those clean water laws. Talk about unintended consequences. Now I understood why the state hadn’t fought the legislation. It was never about clean water. It was about population control. The non-profit and I had been suckered.

“How about making a home nest in town where there are sewers?” I asked.

“None of my daughters can get building permits.”

My own damn HOA had contributed to that problem.

We continued to the river. The water was clean but the banks boggy. Singing Heart waded out into the dark mud. She stretched her neck. It ballooned and she made a whooping roar that ended in a bellowing meow. All the females stopped what they were doing and responded. She called and they repeated for several rounds. The tone and pattern changed but not the volume. From downstream came a second set of calls and responses. When it did, Singing Heart shook her feathers and rejoined me on hard ground. The call would wind its way down the river to the end of the valley.

I didn’t need the translator. It was a gratitude psalm. A tear dripped down my cheek.

“Magdalene? What distresses you?”

My chin quivered. “How can you sing of gratitude considering how we treat you?”

“You’ve taken in my two sons. You cannot imagine my relief.”

It had been a sheer accident. And for how long could I keep them? An aspirin for a brain tumor.

Singing Heart asked, “You left the AAB because you were having difficulties with a fledgling? Is he well?”

“I left because it was too much stress to deal with a toddler, a nursing infant, a sexist boss, and an hour commute each way.” I blushed, ashamed of my pitiful problems. “I can’t imagine how you handle the stress of this place.”

Singing Heart bobbed her head. “I don’t do it alone. I have my flock. Your culture of complete independence is foolish.” She clucked and the box intoned, “You will do better now that you have my two sons. We have more to teach you than technology.”

“Technology!” I pointed to the birds in the river. “Your daughters all have equivalents of Ph.D.s, and they are reduced to stringing nets in a river.”

“Do you feel reduced when you take care of your fledglings?”

I remained silent. There were seasons in life, but my boss and my culture didn’t understand that, so I did feel less than no matter how wrong it was. I lifted my chin. “I make no promises, but now that I understand the issues, I can work on solutions.”

Singing Heart brushed me with a wing a sign of gratitude. But in this case, I took it as a gesture of forgiveness.

On Monday, instead of summarizing that 270-page impact statement, I presented the plight of the bird people. The staff members were divided as to what to do, but they agreed to an emergency board meeting to discuss the possible realignment of the mission of the non-profit. We were small and disorganized, but it was a start.

Moving on to the second prong of my master plan, I cornered Kendra–our one and only lawyer–before she could slip away to pick up her kids from school.

I handed her a flash drive with the HOA covenant rules. “My question is simple. Can I force the HOA to accept an application to build an aviary?”

“You are taking this personally,” said Kendra.

“I want to change the narrative from NIMBY to YIMBY.”

“YIMBY?”

“Yes, In My Back Yard.”

Kendra smiled. “I’ll go over this tonight and get back to you.”

A week later, I was sitting in Mrs. Topher’s living room with the finished proposal. Mrs. Topher’s décor was 1970s day-glo. It explained the clown hair. I wanted to get down to business, but Mrs. Topher wanted to play hostess. She provided fat-free, taste-free cookies and iced tea so sweetened the sugar had precipitated into the bottom of the glass. My fillings ached.

“I hear there are two avians living in your home,” said Mrs. Topher.

I’d read the rules so many times I knew that unrelated folk were frowned upon, but not live-in help. I smiled. “They provide childcare and cleaning services.”

I expected Mrs. Topher to warn me of the dangers of salmonella or something, but instead she nodded slyly. “Yes, I’ve heard the labor laws don’t apply. You don’t have to pay unemployment or match social security.” She patted me on the knee. “How smart of you. It must be nice to finally be able to afford help.”

Ripping off Mrs. Topher’s arm and beating her to death with it would not advance my agenda. Instead, I asked, “So you have no issues with bird people?”

“Not if they have a job, know their place. Of course not. I’m not a racist.”

“Excellent. I have a buyer for the rest of the subdivision.”

Mrs. Topher lit up, and not just from her spray tan.

I explained the details of how Singing Heart’s daughter would buy into the subdivision and build an aviary. “And here’s the best part, because they’ll be part of the community, they’ll pay yearly fees. It’s a win-win.”

Mrs. Topher’s face darkened like a summer thunderstorm. “It won’t pass.”

“Why not?”

“I’ll vote against it. This is a human community.”

My time at the non-profit taught me not to argue. I’d just have to go grassroots.

Mrs. Topher opened a leather slipcase and produced a typed list. “I’ll save you time. These people will vote with me no matter what. I engender loyalty that way.”

Was she bluffing? I reminded myself not to engage. I thanked her for the list and tried to let myself out, but Hercules and Atlas were loose. I had to wait until Mr. Topher corralled the two guard dogs. They were well muscled, but a little too lean. I wondered if they were actually vicious or just hungry.

After dinner, I made some phone calls. Mrs. Topher hadn’t bluffed. She had a solid thirty-five percent. The vote would fail. I wailed in frustration and flopped facedown into all the maps and papers I’d spread out on the table. Larry tapped the floor with one foot. I rested my chin in my hand. “Need help getting Cissie to bed?”

He typed on his controller, and the box said, “You are distressed. It is our role as men of the house to relieve that distress. How may we help?”

Just being asked made me smile. I hadn’t explained about the proposal to shield them from disappointment, but the worst had come to pass so there was no point in hiding it. I explained the situation. While doing so, Curly joined us with Cissie padding right behind, her Disney toothbrush in hand.

I pointed on the map. “The woman who lives here will vote against the proposal, and all the people on this list,” I held up the paper, “will vote with her.”

Larry touched my shoulder with a beak, a very personal gesture. “Then all is not lost. All you have to do is change one person’s mind instead of thirty. We have faith in you.”

“Of course we do, mommy.” Cissie hugged me.

Yeah. Only one.

After the kids were in bed and the bird people asleep, I gathered the covenant rules and binder clipped them. I found a loose page under the map of the subdivision. It outlined the rules governing utility easements. Something caught my eye. I compared the Google satellite view with the subdivision map. The original map didn’t have Mrs. Topher’s giant pool and deck. I checked the property lines, the easements, and compared it to the satellite view.

“Son of a–” I fished out two steaks from the deep freezer and shoved them into the microwave to defrost.

Twenty minutes later, dressed all in black with a measuring tape in one hand and a bag ‘o steaks in the other, I stood at the Tophers’ fence. Hercules and Atlas barreled up barking and snarling.

“Hey, boys.” I waved the steaks. “Let’s find out. Are you vicious or hungry?”

The next day I again sat in Mrs. Topher’s living room, suffering another glass of sludge tea.

She smiled unctuously. “You said you needed a change to the agenda?”

I’d used that as the excuse. There was no way this woman would forfeit an opportunity to gloat. “Yes.”

“Do you want to cancel the vote?”

“No. I have discovered a violation.” I leaned in. “A serious violation. The board needs to know so they can act.”

Mrs. Topher licked her lips. “Do tell.”

I handed her a manila folder. Eagerly, she flipped it open. She scowled. “This is my address.”

I grinned. “Yes, and your pool crosses into the easement by nine inches. You’ll have to rip it out.”

“I’ll get a variance.”

“That’ll take 2/3rds too. Do you think you’ll have that many friends after they find out you could’ve solved both the swamp problem and reduced their fees by allowing the aviary?”

She tossed the folder onto the coffee table. “That’s blackmail.”

“May I count on your vote and those of your friends?”

As I rounded the van to the driver’s side, Mrs. Topher released Hercules and Atlas. They bolted straight for me, but instead of mauling me, they tried to lick me to death. Disgusted, Mrs. Topher slammed her front door. Such bad doggies.

Two months later, the subdivision threw a party for the groundbreaking. Larry and Curly’s flight feathers had filled in and their tails were elongating. Their crests stood high and their eyes shone. By Christmas, they might be ready for their own set of leg spurs.

They followed Tyler, as he stumbled across the lawn. He’d grown into a mobile terror, squealing and clapping his hands. Seeing the three of them walk across the lawn, my heart warmed. Flocks were nice.

The ceremony had called all the displaced birds from miles around. They would all apply to become a part of the newest home nest. All but Larry and Curly, of course. First, she was their sister, and second, they’d become fully integrated into our household. I had become their mother bird.

Paul strolled over with Cissie on his shoulders. Behind them stood Mrs. Topher, her hair now a yellow-orange. She preened for a local news team. “Yes. We are a progressive neighborhood. I was instrumental in getting the permits.”

Paul nodded towards Larry and Curly. “Boy howdy, are those two working out, especially now that you’re back at the AAB.”

“Don’t get too used to it,” I said. “Soon, we might not be able to afford them.”

Paul frowned. “Why?”

“My next project is to get the bird people labor protections.”

Cissie said in her father’s ear, “Yes, daddy. Do you know what labor protections are?”

As he bee-lined to the food table, he said, “Yes, I do, Cissie. But please explain them to me anyway.”

My attention turned to three clipped birds in white button-downs and khakis who rushed toward Larry, Curly, and Tyler. The leader of the three clutched a black book. The other two clutched plastic papers, which flickered with text.

The leader squawked and the box translated, “Good day, gentle birds. We are seeking to increase our flock. Have you been saved by Jesus?”

Larry and Curly stood tall, their necks extended. In unison, they said, “Thank you, but we have already been saved, saved by Mary Magdalene.”

Ms. Mary Magdalene Farconi, a working mother, is a G-11 in the Labor Protections Department of the Alien Affairs Bureau. She supervises a governmental hotline for reporting labor abuse of Avian Nationals and is currently working with cities all over the US to design and develop aviaries within human communities.

Dr. Kathy Kitts, a former geology professor, served as a science team member on the NASA Genesis Discovery Mission. Before that, she directed a planetarium for nine years. Her latest speculative short fiction has appeared in Amazing, James Gunn’s Ad Astra, and Mad Scientist Journal. Her latest short story collection, Getting What You Need, is now available on Amazon. Born and raised in the southwest, she is currently living in the high desert of New Mexico.

Leigh’s professional title is “illustrator,” but that’s just a nice word for “monster-maker,” in this case. More information about them can be found at http://leighlegler.carbonmade.com/.

Fiction: Jehovah’s Feathers was originally published on Mad Scientist Journal

#HOA #K. Kitts #Leigh Legler #Mary Magdalene Farconi #Xenobiology

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sierrabinondo · 5 years

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woodland creatures - day 4 (orlando pt. 2)

was i excited to be on tour? yes. was i also super nervous about going on tour before leaving? also yes.

was i excited to go to disney springs? Y E S. was it the one thing i knew i could look forward to even if i sucked at every fucking show???

B I G Y E S.

my poor bandmates. i said the night before, “hey, i just realized, we never actually really discussed going to disney springs.” and they were like, “yeah.”

but! we went anyway!!! bless their hearts!!!

the morning after staying up and partying was rough. i had the NASTIEST hangover. my headache was so severe that i couldn’t even fall back asleep following 5 hours of rest. i popped some advil and tried to get a couple more hours in but it was impossible, so i just got up and showered. the guys brought back panera for lunch, and then once everyone was ready we were off to disney springs. i could tell everyone was worried it was gonna be lame, i felt it in the air lmao. i was also worried i was leading them to a miserable afternoon in the hot florida weather. but i figured if they hated it we could always leave.

we pull up to disney springs and there is some semblance of what i remembered from the last time i was there but also a lot that i DID NOT recognize. the parking garages were definitely new. they had sensors over each parking spot that could indicate whether or not a car was in the spot, and it would update an LED screen outside the entrance with how many spots were available on each floor. i thought that was really cool. there were gardens on the sides of the garages too. we then go up some stairs and down an escalator to get in, and hooooly shit i was blown away. there was a brand new area that had a fountain and all of the shops looked reminiscent of spanish architecture. it was so beautiful.

we got group pictures in front of the fountain, and then i decided to get a happy birthday pin from guest relations lmfao. i wanted to see if i could get any free shit by just waltzing around with a birthday pin on. i was unsuccessful but i had never been in or near disney on my birthday anyways so i just rolled with it. we started to the right and went to world of disney, marketplace co-op, the lego store and the pin trading shop.

i was completely overwhelmed by how big all of the stores were. there was so much cool shit. i really thought i would have an easy time abstaining from spending money, since my sister was literally just there and got me the one thing i wanted, but i did NOT. at world of disney i bought ANOTHER pair of minnie ears, the rose gold sparkly ones lmfao. not usually my style, but there weren’t any others i was crazy about. joe got a shirt and ryan bought some stuff for his girlfriend christina. i wanted clothes but i decided to wait to see if there might be better merchandise elsewhere.

we moved on to marketplace co-op and i immediately found a disney world long sleeve shirt i loved so i grabbed that. i alsoooo balled out and got a print of the most beautiful mulan painting i have ever seen. it was a depiction of one of my favorite parts in the movie, when she is singing reflection and chops off her fuckin hair, but in the garden instead of the shrine. that movie means very very much to me as an asian american!!! besides that i got emperor’s new groove patches later on in the afternoon and that was all i spent my money on. $138 later. yeesh.

my friends eton and jeri who came to the show the night before wanted to meet up for food and drinks, so i walked over to frontera cucina. i thought maybe my bandmates might join us but they weren’t hungry and it was more of a sit down place, so we parted ways for an hour. i hadn’t seen eton and jeri since they moved down to orlando in january, holy shit. it was so good to hang out with them. we caught up and enjoyed some really good lunch. i ordered a gin and tonic that had a whole ass cucumber peel wrapped around the glass and pork belly tacos. i bugged out bad because eton wouldn’t let me pay nor could i get his venmo from jeremiah to cover my portion. it was so sweet of them to treat me. i met them through jeremiah, i always tell him how much i love his friends and how they’ve become my friends the more we all hang out together. it sucks our time was so damn brief but i’m just glad i got to see them.

after late lunch i met back up with everyone and we walked around a little longer, but i mistakenly let us stay a little later and lost track of time. it was just about time to start heading over to hail the sun. i felt really bad because people mentioned wanting to go swimming or take a nap and i effectively robbed everyone of any allotted leisure activity time by wanting to gallavant around more. i was definitely just as wiped as everyone, but i hadn’t been back to disney in forever. we hurried back to the van and drove back to kissimmee.

pulses. had been grilling and chillin at the airbnb all day, so they were ready for the gig when we got back. we got back just in time to leave when they did, like 15 minutes before. we both hopped in our respective vehicles and we were off. they always dropped snails in the tour chat and called us with snails ahead because we were slow with the van lmfao but it’s not MY FAULT the shit is SO HUGE damnit. i drove the van to the gig with josef, jaime and kris while ryan and santino stayed home.

it’s interesting to go to a show in another state, it does feel pretty weird to go somewhere unfamiliar, but it really does feel the same as attending a show at home. people really are pretty much the same everywhere else, just different geographical locations and climates. the gig was really good but the venue was SO SMALL. too small. i like the soundbar but i might like it better if you didn’t have to wade your way through a crowd of swamp ass to get to the bathrooms alllll the way on the other side of the venue opposite of the entrance. plus, it got so packed that it was really difficult to be near the stage, let alone inside the building. for most of the show the 10 of us camped out in a really great spot near the bathrooms that wasn’t getting too much traffic and had its own bar so we stayed there.

we were at the show where sergio broke his headstock. i don’t think i’ve ever seen a show where sergio stands still the entire time, in the dozens of times i’ve seen him play. he was so close to that monitor/the ceiling but i didn’t suspect his guitar was going to break. i completely missed it because i was looking down at my phone (womp) but i heard everyone audibly gasp. that sucks dude. i think that was the only bummer the whole show though besides the heat and some sloppy drunks. pulses. are friends with zach garren so he was hanging out near us here and there throughout the night. daisy came to the gig so she came and found us, we hung out for a good portion of the show, too! it was a really good chance to talk more too after the gig the night before. she told us a lot about what the florida scene is like. we told her it’s infinitely better than the tri-state area LMAO. at least like, people show up to shows and STAY on a monday night which is insane. and then joseph arrington is a friend of ours so he said hi a couple times during the gig, afterwards him and i talked more when it was quieter.

it is one of the greatest honors in my entire life that joseph arrington sees me as a homie. writing this under the presumption he’s never gonna see this lmao, but i have to pinch myself sometimes. we’ve been friends since we played the last ALLB tour september 2017. i introduced myself and mentioned that we had opened for sianvar’s 2016 tour at webster hall and he actually remembered us. ryan also introduced himself as one of his patreon donors and they talked for like 45 minutes. that show he asked for a CD (and it was years in waiting our older album too yikes lol there’s bangers on there but it doesn’t sound like us anymore) and he messaged me later that night like, “we’re listening in the van right now, you’re a great singer”. we’ve hung out at gigs a couple more times, whether we played together or either ryan or i went to go see him play. the fact he considers us peers is one of the most validating things i have. i’ve learned a lot of helpful insight from him. i have tremendous respect for him and couldn’t be more grateful that he actually likes us as musicians and as people.

all of the bands of course were awesome, i couldn’t stand the heat enough to be inside for every single hail the sun song but i caught most of their set. it’s pretty insane to see them blow up like they have. they deserve it. and i think donovan is one of the best vocalists i’ve ever heard. that whole camp of blue swan musicians are just so talented.

josef, jaime and kris graciously waited outside for me to finish talking to joe arrington, and during that time josef actually caught will swan outside. he said he had the chance to tell will swan deathstar is the reason he plays music and it made him very happy to do so. it had happened like a little bit before i came back outside. we then got lost trying to find the van and hilariously passed the actual entrance to the parking garage like 3 times. it was literally across the street and i led them around the block twice.

we went back to the airbnb for one more swim and we almost had another super late night legit just talking to pulses. kris sat outside editing photos while some of the guys swam, some of us just sat with our feet in the pool. when we got back ryan and santino had been sleeping and i think i maybe saw santino get up once to go to the bathroom. i did really want to go to sleep but ughhhhh i also thought to myself, i can sleep when i get home from tour. i get really bad FOMO every day of my life. so we stayed up and we talked about all things dance gavin dance, blue swan, our local scene, and bein in a band. it’s insane how alike we all are in our way of thinking. i also find it hard to open up to other bands though because it seems like no one else sees playing music and trying to grow a band the way we do. i just wanted to eat up any time i could bonding with pulses., taylor and tyler. thankfully we weren’t up until 4 am again but legit any time up spending time with all of my friends was worth it.

#woodland creatures tour

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black-rose-writings · 5 years

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Enemy of my enemy

Something a little longer inspire by a prompt by @atlawritingprompts

This can also work as a first chapter for a full-fledged fic. If people will like it, I might actually write it - even though I have like four other open projects. I really like this idea, though. I might do it regardless. There is now a full fic based on this.

Ao3 links: One-shots & Full fic

Zuko looked at the swords on the wall. The message came in just minutes before. If the captain didn’t take it, he probably would have burned it before reaching the signature.

That smug…

But it was obvious, wasn’t it? He should have known Zhao would be the one to win their little personal competition.

He left the command deck immediately and headed for his room. There still was a chance…

He never even stood a chance.

Where was the honor in sneaking around masked, stealing what he couldn’t get on his own?

Where was the honor in trying to appease someone, who marked him for life as unworthy?

He wanted to punch something.

He heard the door open and someone stepping in.

“Prince Zuko, you can’t lose hope,” his uncle tried to encourage him.

“I’ve been thinking uncle… my father never really cared, had he?” His voice was silent, betraying him as he spoke the treacherous words. “It was pointless.”

“I don’t think he did.” His uncle replied. He couldn’t force himself to turn around. “Are you going to give up?”

“I’m not.” he shook his head. The light blue stone with blue ribbon was heavy on his wrist. “But I’m not sure I can continue either.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

Something stupid.

“I don’t know.” he sighed. “Something. Anything.”

“You have a plan?”

“Maybe…” Could he tell him?

“I want you to know… I won’t stand in your way. Whatever you decide to do.”

“Even if it was technically treason?”

“Especially.” Iroh walked into the room and closed the door. “But don’t tell that to anyone.”

“My father won’t ever have me back – and the only person worse than him… in any way… is Azula.” Zuko continued. “I can’t leave the world to them.”

“That’s a wise choice.” Iroh nodded. Zuko finally turned around, clutching the blue necklace. “Be careful. What you’ll be doing is dangerous. And you know my brother is far from the most forgiving person around.”

Zuko nodded, thoughtlessly touching the scar on his face.

“It’s not like I have much more to lose, is it?”

“You may not. But I do.” Iroh smiled and hugged him. “I don’t think I could handle losing you, too.”

“Uncle… you don’t have to say it…” Zuko muttered, knowing way too well, what his uncle meant to say.

“I do.” Iroh smiled, as he let him go. “Ever since I lost my son… I though of you as my own.

“I know.” Zuko nodded. “Thank you. For everything.”

***

The forest was close. Just a little further.

The Avatar was shaking slightly from fear.

Just a little further and they would disappear in the forest.

But they didn’t make it.

The birds were singing. And someone was talking – the Avatar. He only caught last few sentences of whatever the boy was saying.

“You know what the worst part of being born over a hundred years ago is? I miss all the friends I used to hang out with. Before the war started, I used to always visit my friend Kuzon. The two of us, we'd get in and out of so much trouble together. He was one of the best friends I ever had, and he was from the Fire Nation, just like you. If we knew each other back then, do you think we could have been friends, too?”

Zuko blinked. His head still hurt – something must have hit him really hard. Or fast. Or both.

“Maybe.” he replied, sitting up, massaging the side of his head. “What happened?”

“You got hit in the head by an arrow.” Aang replied. “It broke the mask.”

Zuko looked next to himself, where his swords and pieces of the mask laid.

“And you dragged me away?” he asked in surprise.

“And waited for you to wake up.” Aang nodded. “You saved my life. I owed you that much.”

“From what I know about Zhao, death would be the last thing to happen to you.” he mentioned, sheathing the swords.

“He mentioned something like that, yes.” Aang nodded.

“Where are we?” Zuko asked.

“In the forest. I couldn’t get that far.”

“They’ll look for us here soon.”

“Us?”

“Well… what I did does consider high treason.” Zuko explained. “I want to help you.”

“Why?”

“Because once it turned out I actually had a chance of capturing you, my father gave Zhao everything he asked for and then some to do it first.” Zuko replied. “It’s clear he doesn’t want me to come back. So, why try?”

“So, you join us?” Aang asked him in surprise.

He finally stood up, looking around. His bag wasn’t far.

“Yes.” he replied, heading for the place where he hid it. Aang followed, curious look on his face. “It’s the only way I can change anything.”

He found his bag, covered hastily by leaves and sticks and pulled it over his shoulder.

“I’d be glad to have you on the team. But I’m not sure how Katara and Sokka are gonna feel about it.”

“I’ll do my best.” Zuko smirked a bit. The kid’s positivity seemed to be contagious.

***

“I’ll starts a fire.” Zuko offered and looked at the boy. Aang nodded and walked to his friends with the frogs.

Zuko pulled down the hood of his clothes and put more wood into the now-cold firepit. With a single movement, he lit the wood on fire.

The couple begun coughing and spat out the frogs.

“Thanks for the help Aang, but I think I still have hallucinations.” Sokka muttered, wiping his eyes, crawling out of the sleeping bag.

“No, I see him too.” Katara assured him. “Aang… what happened?”

“It’s… a long story. I went to the nearby monastery to find a cure. And this old lady sent me down to the swamp for the frozen frogs – but I got caught my these super precise archers.”

“Yuayn archers.” Zuko added, looking through his bad. His hair was out of his ponytail, so it would fit under the hood and he was pretty sure it must have looked positively ridiculous.

“Whatever they’re called.” Aang waved his hand. After wading in the cold water, it wasn’t the worst thing to have around. “They caught me and dragged me into Zhao’s fortress.”

Katara and Sokka looked at each other.

“That’s why you took so long…” Katara looked outside. The sky was dark gray, the morning sun gone. Aang was gone for almost a whole day. “I shouldn’t have been so angry.”

“And what about him? How is he involved?” Sokka asked. Zuko finally found the hair tie and pulled his hair back again. He didn’t seem to mind them.

“He saved me.” Aang explained. “We escaped Zhao’s fortress and almost got into the forest. Before those archers took him out. So I dragged him into the woods, before they could get to us.”

“I think I forgot to say thank you for that.” Zuko finally spoke up again. “So, thank you.”

“No problem.” Aang assured him. “When he woke up, he said he wanted to join us.”

“You got hit into the head pretty hard, didn’t you?” Sokka looked at him, reaching for his boomerang.

“It was the plan all along.” Zuko assured him. “I promised Aang an explanation, so I will tell it to all of you.”

“What explanation could there be?” Katara asked, taking a sip of water from the pouch, before passing it to Sokka.

“I think I should start from the beginning. I’m not telling you this to make you feel sorry for me. I don’t want that.” he shook his head. “I just want you to understand, why I’m doing this.”

“Just say it.” Sokka sighed, taking the water pouch from Katara.

“Fine. About three years ago, I went to a war meeting for the first time. I was about thirteen, and I hoped to prove myself to my father – and learn about running the country, since I was the primary heir.” Zuko looked into the flames. “I was just supposed to sit there and listen, but I heavily disagreed with one of the generals and said so… a little too vocally. The general took offence to what I said and honor demanded it was settled by Agni-Kai. A firebending duel. I thought I was going to fight some old general, who didn’t have to bend in a fight for longer than I was alive… but I was wrong.”

Katara noticed Zuko clutched his fist, but he didn’t his anger show otherwise. The flames seemed to feel it, too, as they have risen a bit. Their heat reached much further.

“An insult in Fire Lord’s war room is an insult to Fire Lord himself,” he said, almost like he repeated something once told to him. “And I couldn’t fight my own father. Backing out of Agni-Kai, or refusing to fight in it, is considered a great dishonor and cowardice.”

Almost thoughtlessly, he touched the scar on his face.

“My father burned me and banished me. Only way I could ever return was by bringing the Avatar with me.” Aang flinched away. “Which was seen as an impossible task. And until recently, it was.”

Zuko sighed.

“And once it proven possible, he sent Zhao with everything he could need and want for the hunt. Because it’s highest priority task, that can’t just be given to a unreliable teenager.” Zuko almost spat out the last sentence.

“You’re doing this to spite your dad?” Sokka looked at him in surprise.

“You can say it that way.” Zuko admitted.

“Your father made you that scar?” Katara asked. She seemed angry and somewhat… pitying at the same time.

Zuko nodded. “I told you I don’t want your sympathy.”

“That’s messed up.” Katara shook her head. “Next level messed up.”

“That’s not even a level.” Sokka nodded. “That’s thousand feet over the highest level.”

Zuko just looked at them. Just a minute ago, they were staring at him in contempt and mistrust. But now… they were angry. About what his father did to him.

He turned to his bag, looking through the things he brought. From the few pieces of clothing and a bag of food stuck out a blueish tube, tied around with a dark blue ribbon.

“I believe this is yours.” he said, as he untied it and handed Katara the necklace. She stared at it. “I know it means a lot to you. I’m sorry I took it.”

Katara didn’t say anything, just tied it around her neck.

“Thanks.” she smiled a bit.

“And… I brought you this. I thought you might find it useful.” he said, as he handed her the light blue scroll. “My uncle studied waterbending. He had several, but I only had time to take this one.”

“Waterbending scroll?” she carefully took it and opened it. It was definitely a different one than the one they were using. “This is really great.”

“Right. Great.” Aang nodded. “I should get some sleep before we take off. I didn’t get much tonight.”

“We’ll keep an eye on him.” Sokka assure Aang, as the boy jumped up on Appa’s back.

***

Katara fell asleep, soon, too. The two guys remained awake by the campfire. Zuko pulled out his swords and started cleaning them.

“Hey… Just so you know, I still don’t like you. And I don’t trust you. Aang is naïve, that he does.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else.” Zuko shrugged his shoulders. “I was surprised by the way you reacted.”

“It’s horrible. You know, in the Water Tribe, family is the most important thing you have – your family and your Tribe. Hurting one’s family… that’s unthinkable. Especially like that. I can’t imagine not being able to trust my own family.”

“It sounds great.”

“In that way, definitely.” Sokka nodded. “Our father, and most of the other men, left the Tribe two years ago – to join the war. I was the oldest guy left in the village. Only one left to defend it.”

“I saw that.” Zuko couldn’t help but smirk, before putting his swords away again.

“I tried, okay.”

“I’m not denying that.” Zuko assured him. “Actually, I wanted to ask you about something.”

“Okay. About what?”

“I happen to know a bit about Water tribe culture – from my uncle. And I know that that necklace is a betrothal necklace. If you were the only man our age left in your tribe…”

“What? I didn’t even know that.” Sokka shook his head. “It belonged to our Grandma once. Our Tribe isn’t much in terms of tradition, ever since the war. Maybe not even before that.”

“Oh… I thought…” Zuko blushed a bit and scratched his neck. Sokka almost burst out laughing, but tried to still himself, so he wouldn’t wake up the sleeping couple.

“You have a lot to learn.”

#zuko #blue spirit #sokka #aang #katara #au #writing prompt #prompt fill #prompt fic #canon divergent au #maybe zutara later?#zuko&sokka bromance #no actual ships in this episode #chapter 1 #maybe #maybe not

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halochim · 5 years

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matters of court || park jimin

(the gif is not mine! credit to rightful owner)

― pairing: ethereal!park jimin x reader

― summary: stuck between two worlds, Jimin is tasked with helping you with the transition. (sorry I’m really bad at these)

― word count: 1,5k+

― warnings: angst, like a lot sorry hehe. Very minor mention of death, like you kinda have to squint. Mention of physical and astral planes, idk if that’s actually a warning but I just want to be thorough :)

― note: hi :) first off, I just wanted to say that this is my first time ever writing, let alone posting, anything like this so I would really appreciate constructive criticism and yeah if you do read this I am really grateful and send lots of love your way. thank you xo :)

The slow clicks of your steps wafted in the air, however the sound did not linger long as it melted among the golden-tinted clouds, the air seemingly unable to retain any sound. The surface beneath your feet itself was a sight to behold. The crystalline slab, no more than 4 metres wide, seemed to stretch on forever before you, cirrus clouds shrouding your view further along. Your eyes sparkled with the reflection of the golden streaks that vertically shot through the slab continually, subtly pushing you in the direction of your destination, almost as if they knew you would lose track of your senses. Breathing no longer came easy, not because of the lack of oxygen, but rather the purity of the air, you were too tainted.

You approached the thick shroud of cloud that prohibited you from seeing any further along the path. Having been lulled into a sense of tranquillity and safety within a few mere minutes, you stepped into the cloud without hesitation.

Dew drops kissed your skin and settled on your eyelashes as you waded through. After a few moments of walking, you wondered if the cloud ever stopped. Your only guide being the blurred streaks of gold illuminating your path. Just you finished your thought, the cloud seemed to lift as you ambled further along, you let out a sigh, feeling a pressure that you weren’t even aware of lift.

Your eyes scrunched slightly as a twinkling started to seep through the cirrus, becoming gradually more vibrant. After four more steps, not a trace of cloud tainted the view in front of you, almost like it had evaporated in the small space of those four steps. The fresh air is cool against your dewy face as a gentle, golden light falls upon it.

The 3-metre wide crystalline path has now branched into a large circular floor. Your head slowly drifted up to be met with the sight of a being you could only describe as utterly ethereal. Almost effortlessly, yet perfectly, poised on a throne, sat a man with honey skin and golden blonde hair, a few rogue strands falling into his eyes. His pillowy lips resembled the cloud that enveloped the space and the golden glow of his skin akin to the light sparkle of gold that the thick wall of cloud radiated behind his throne. Cloud encased his throne along the back and sides in a protective manner. The wall of cloud tapered as it rounded the circle until it seemed to just be lightly flowing off the edge of the slab into the tinted abyss. He practically radiated as his head perched lightly on his left hand, leaning against the armrest of the throne.

“Welcome.” His spoke, his familiar voice melting and lingering in the air, seemingly it was the only sound the air resolved to retain. He stood to greet you before making his way down the few steps from his elevated throne.

“My name is Jimin. I hope you found us alright, I know the scenery can be distracting,” he continued with a gentle smile, his eyes lightly scrunching as his lips turned up as he strolled towards you.

“Us?” You questioned, no one else other than the two of you anywhere in sight.

“I sent the others away for the time being, I have come to learn that this can be quite overwhelming as it is, I didn’t want to swamp you. Although you are already doing remarkably better than the majority of the people who pass through here, but that’s as to be expected.” He chuckled, hazel eyes glazing over for a second as he recalled the humorous memories.

“Where is here?” You queried.

“My court in the astral plane.” He specified, his tone as casual as though he were talking about the weather. He looked at you intensely, eyes studying your every move and facial expressions. He shifted his weight onto one leg and grasped his hands behind his back, gazing at you with almost a child-like innocence.

“You mean the ‘angelic and ethereal beings’ kind of astral plane?” Your eyes bulged.

“Something along those lines.” His plush lips spread into another softening smile.

“Why am I here then…” you asked hesitantly, a thick haze that had been hovering over your brain ha started to clear and you were starting to piece two and two together.

“Because you have a choice.” He explained simply.

“What’s that?” You asked in a small voice, sensing the tone shift.

“To stay or go.” He answered, the smile no longer adorning his lips and his eyes filled with concern as he watched you piece it together.

After a few more moments of silence, he spoke, “Right now you are in what we call the golden phase. You are lingering in both the astral and physical plane, which is dangerous, that is why you need to decide.”

Your head began to spin, this was too much. This whole situation was too much for you at once.

“I-I can’t” you paused, eyes drilling into the ground and your voice heavy with emotion as you tried to process this. Your head snapped up to find his eyeline, “You decide.” You irrationally pleaded, “Please, you know this stuff better than I do, please decide for me.”

A sad, yet beautiful smile stretched across his face as his eyes pooled with hurt.

“I can’t do that, trust me I wish I could, but I can’t.” his voice filled with compassion yet edged with sorrow.

Your head began to feel heavy. You brought a hand up to massage your temple as you stared at Jimin. Breathing once again became a battle, however this time it was not because of the air, it was because if yourself. The overwhelming sense that was familiarity and warmth morphed into a dizzying pressure as it spread through you and you began to struggle to hold yourself upright.

Strange images started flashing through your head, staying for no longer than a second, too fast for you to even try and comprehend, but slow enough for you to grasp a face. A face that was in almost every one of those memories.

Your throat constricted as you struggled to inhale, a cough violently splurging from your lips as you heaved forward. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jimin lurch towards you, as though he had been held back and suddenly broke free.

However, as you lifted your gaze to meet his pained one, he stopped dead in his tracks.

“Why do I know you?” you asked in a broken voice, a single tear finally escaping your eye.

He opened his mouth to respond, but as he did so you felt your leaden limbs fall numb as your body buckled.

Jimin’s eyes widened in fear as he once again lurched towards you, this time scooping you up in his arms. His body moulded protectively around yours as he tucked your head underneath his and he cooed in your ear, arms wrapped tightly around your body, a hand cradling your head, as though he were the one needing support. He gently lowered both of you to the ground as you curled into him.

“It’s okay, please. I'm right here.” He whispered brokenly, placing soft kisses into your hair.

“Please help me,” you cried, the pain shooting through you and the numbing pounding in your head intensifying.

“Shh baby, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I can’t help you.” he stammered over his words as you felt a single wet tear drop from his glassy eyes.

After a few moments of hushed please from Jimin and silent sobs from you, the calm before the storm began to settle in. You shifted from your curled position weakly, positioning yourself so that you could try and memorise his golden features. With silent tears streaking his face and a harrowing pain embellishing his eyes, he was still singlehandedly the most beautiful person you had laid eyes on.

Your convulsions had settled to pulses as you lay in his arms, your pleading had ceased, knowing that it was inevitable.

“Are you coming with me?” you asked quietly, careful not to let too much hope seep through, but your tears betrayed you.

“I can’t,” he croaked, throat thick with regret. “I didn’t get a choice, I’m sorry. I would one thousand times over if I could.” His stressed.

“It’s okay.” You whispered with a weak smile, trying to calm him. “I understand.”

Instead of saying anything further he hugged you closer once more, you melted into his arms. The golden hour had set in and was drawing to a close. The last, yet most vibrant rays of sunshine settled over you and Jimin, accentuating his otherworldly presence.

You watched through heavy eyelids as golden rays illuminated his tears. They sparkled under the basking glow of the sun. His valuable tears once bottled as an elixir when people believed they could heal, now flowing freely as he heard your breathing gradually slow and your eyelids droop further and further.

“I love you.” You whispered, barely loud enough.

“I love you. You know I’ll always be with you, right?” he pleaded, knowing your time was drawing near.

You turned your head from him to glance at the horizon quickly before turning back to face him as you watched the last sliver of the sun melt away. Jimin’s hazel eyes and honey skin sparkling in the golden aftermath.

You exhaled.

“I know,” you assured him.

again, i just wanted to say that this is my first time writing so please take it easy on me im a sensitive softie sorry anyway lots of love xoxo

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xaz-fr · 6 years

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three months later I finally have the lore I wanted to write since I joined FR lols. The start of Cypress Hall when there was no one, just Johanna, Layali, and her fish of a brother Rahab.

Oh, Take Me Back to the Start

The old skydancer was tired. Defeated even. Her armor wasn’t so shining, her feathers askew, one antenna bent a way it probably shouldn’t. Johanna had served loyally for so many years she wasn’t used to being treated with scorn and distrust. But that is what had happened. The Dragonlord had no use for her, and didn’t trust her. After that last fight with the Crumbled she’d decided to just ‘die’. It was easy to fake your death when those traitorous oath breakers, egg breaking, scoundrels had made sure everyone they could get ahold of had been ripped apart before they’d made their retreat. Johanna had been injured during it and had just laid down. Her flank still hurt. Her healing magic wasn’t as strong as it once had been. When the Crumbled forces had given chase, leaving her behind she’d waited for someone to come back. No one did. Either they’d killed each other or were still chasing her paladins.

As it often did in the dense jungles of the Labyrinth it had started to rain and a sprinkling of rain had broken through the thick canopy to splash across her face. No one would come back for her unless they had time to come bury her or the others’ corpses. She’d gotten to her feet with a groan and limped the opposite direction, away from the heart of the Labyrinth, away from the Clan. Away from her duty. Away from her old life.

She hadn’t looked back.

She was far from the Labyrinth now and she meant to get even further. She wanted to return home, to the Plateau. Her young aunt would welcome her home, surely? But to return home having forsaken her duty? To abandon the Dragonlord and the war? Anastasia might not be forgiving but Johanna had to hope. She had entered the Sunbeam Ruins a few days ago after skirting the coast of the Tangled Wood and was making her slow way along the edge of the Dusk Break where a nearly sheer cliff of tectonic might mad fallen away to separate the Ruins from the Wood. The flight across the Twilight Straits had taken it out of her and the wound in her flank was greatly aggravated and she’d found a heavy sprain in her wing. The transformation back into a dragon had nearly taken all of her strength and she’d had to leave her armor behind and she had to walk along the ground. She made a truly pathetic sight.

At least the Ruins was, for the most part, flatland along its western border once you made it past the Climb, the precariously steep staircase that allowed for foot traffic between the two regions and had different names depending on which god’s domain you were in. In the distance she could see the thick conifer forest that much of the ruins that gave the Sunbeam Ruins their name resided in. She was much too far to see any of the buildings but the forest covered nearly the entire upper half of the territory so it was impossible to miss.

She did not meet many clans on her walk along the rim of cliffs. Light clans wanted nothing to do with being so close to the Wood and Shadow clans found the searing light that came from over the Dusk Break much too harsh for their eyes. So she was alone with her thoughts for days on her slow, limping, walk. She grazed on tender grasses and she went and when she could snapped up a cricket or butterfly. Eating raw food wasn’t her favorite thing but she made do with what she had available. Before she slept she tended to her flank wound as best she could and slept with dreams full of her failures.

Over a week since she entered the Ruins she came across her first obstacle. The brackish river that cut through the Ruins. So close to the Lightweaver’s Laugh- the name of the falls, called thus for it was said the sound of its cascade reminded Light dragons of the Lightweaver’s laugh- the river ran swift and deep, scoring the land deeply. Johanna wasn’t strong enough to fly even this gap and there was no way she could swim across such a current. To even do so was ludicrous. She’d only heard of some of the oldest Water dragons even attempting to swim around the mouth of Lightweaver’s Laugh. All others were swept along with the tide and tossed out into open air for a nearly mile long plunge down into the Sea below. Plenty of time to get your wings under you but Johanna didn’t have the strength for either.

That led to one option. She’d have to go up the river until it mellowed out and became calmer and hopefully a bit more shallow so she could more easily cross it. With a heavy sigh she headed east, towards the sun. Her going was slow enough that it took her several days to reach a part in the river where the river was nearly level with the ground. She knew she was nowhere near the rim and she’d have to cut across the rest of the Ruins diagonally before reaching the Shifting Expanse. It was unwise for dragons to travel the desert without the aid of a Lightning clan’s dragon.

But the river was wider now but she could tell not much deeper. She didn’t want to go too much further east. She could see the haze of the Hewn City in the distance and she didn’t fancy getting caught up in that. The only problem with this wide, slow, river was that it had turned into a swamp and Johanna stood on some of the only dry land she could see. She’d have to walk and swim through this muck. There was nothing for it. If she wanted to make it to the Plateau she’d have to cross the river and do so while also avoiding the Hewn City. Of course if she thought about it for a moment the Hewn City was probably a better place to go since Light clans often set up their lairs around the Hewn City to explore and study the strange phenomena, not to mention investigate all the rumors of monsters and such that dwelled within it. But she didn’t. She was focused on getting back to the Plateau and the ancestral home of House Gold Feather.

She waded into the water. At first it only came up to her belly. Then it grew deeper as she went and she had to swim. She was exhausted by the time she’d crossed the main river. The water had looked so calm but its currents had still been rather brisk and it had been a workout to not get swept away. Coming out of the water she startled a nest of psyworms that hissed at her but she managed to flap her wings at them and kick up enough wind to fling them backwards. They raced away squeaking in rage. That dealt with she collapsed just beyond the swamp bank. Her wound ached. It no longer bled but it still hurt deeply.

Exhausted she passed out under a dogwood tree.

She was woken with a start by the most anguished wail. Her head shot up and she looked around, trying to find the source of the noise. A pang gripped her heart. It sounded like the youngest children of the old Dragonlord before those Crumbled scum had butchered them. She pushed herself to her feet and stumbled through the island’s underbrush towards the noise. She cross the island, which was larger than she anticipated, and came upon a greater body of water. The sun was starting to set by now and the light fading but not even that could hide the sight before her. Out in the water was a truly massive bald cypress tree. Surrounding it were a ring of smaller but still large cypress trees and then a forest of mangroves and smaller cypress trees and saplings. Johanna couldn’t see past the canopy but the fact that there were trees there meant the water wasn’t too deep and she needed to get over there. The wails were coming from beyond the tree-line.

With a surprising amount of energy she splashed into the water and found it came up only to the base of her neck so she could walk through the murky water. She kicked up a fair amount of sediment on her way and if she cared to look back she’d see it shift in a way that belayed there was more there than just water. Once at the main tree-line of mangroves that extended east she grabbed the branches and hauled herself up onto the canopy with a tired groan. The mud tried to hold onto her feet but she was insistent. The canopy was easier going than the water and she clambered through the branches with only a bit of strain. More than one pair of eyes watched her from the water’s surface.

“Oh Windsinger’s gale,” she huffed when she saw what lay on the other side of the ring of trees. It was a great, sandy bowl in the water where at the center was a large rocky opening from which fresh water poured. Rising up from the sand on one side and sort of cupping the spring was the roots and trunk of the massive bald cypress. It from within she could hear the pitiful sounds which were now much softer but still were like a fist around her heart. She hadn’t been able to help those Rhodes children but she could help this one! She didn’t fancy a swim in the spring water. Usually swamp springs like this were icy.

Johanna tested her wings. Could she make the short flight? It was only a hundred or so feet. She could make it. She could do it. She steadied herself on the highest branches of one of the shorter cypress trees and launched herself into the air. She grunted in pain as her not fully healed wing strained to catch the wind but she did. She only needed three flaps before she could glide the rest of the way and landed as best she could on the great trunk, clinging to the side like a gecko. Now where was that baby? She looked around and her antenna twitched. She couldn’t feel anything. That was impossible.

Clambering around the trunk Johanna looked for the source the continued whimpering. She could pick up nothing empathetically from her gem even when she tried very hard and it infuriated her. She climbed down towards the roots and found a part of the tree that had been dug out by some animal to make a natural little den with access to the water and the spring. Johanna had to get a bit wet to gain access to it and she was right! The spring water was freezing! Ignoring the chill she clambered into the den which was several times larger than her and came face to face with the source of the noise.

She’d been expecting a whimpering child. Instead she found a young adult Guardian, easily twice her size, with big pale green eyes and salty tear tracks partially dried on her face and hanging as little droplets off her facial fins. Her brown hide was covered in rosette patterns and her green wings carried the rare butterfly motif. But the oddest of all was her belly and stomach spine. It seemed almost hollow and filled with a pastel nebula. Johanna had never seen a genetic mutation like that before and she had seen many. But none of that mattered. What mattered was this poor thing seemed to be in great pain.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?” Johanna asked, moving closer to her. The guardian jerked away, pulling back and away from Johanna fearfully, to press up against the back of the small hollow of a den they’d found. Made? “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you,” Johanna said gently as her gem started glowing gently to offer soothing feelings. It either didn’t help or had no effect because it didn’t seem to make the Guardian any less distressed. “Don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you,” she reached out a claw and gently put it on the Guardian’s arm.

She expected it to be snatched away or for them to lash out. Instead they just looked down at Johanna’s claw and then up at her with wide eyes. “Y-you’re real?” she asked in a small voice.

“Yes. I’m real,” Johanna said gently. “I’m very real. Are you alright? I heard you.”

The Guardian looked away, shaking her head, blinking hard, looking at the wall. It looked like she saw something here but made no mention of it. “No,” she said and looked at Johanna with wide eyes, her pupils little pricks in her eyes. She looked very scared.

“I’m Johanna,” she said and hopped a bit closer, taking the Guardian’s claw in both of hers. “What’s your name?”

“Name?” She got a far off look in her eyes like she needed to remember. “Layali,” she said. “Are you sure you’re real?” she asked nervously.

“Yes. I’m real, you don’t have to be afraid. You aren’t alone now,” she said soothingly and tried to project some soothing empathetic feelings. Layali didn’t seem affected by them.

“I’m not?”

“No. I’m here now,” she found herself saying. What was she saying? She was supposed to be crossing the swamp to get back to the rim and eventually the Plateau. But looking into Layali’s Wind green eyes she knew that wouldn’t be happening. Her House didn’t need her; Anastasia ran it just fine without her. The Clan didn’t need her; there were other, younger, generals to lead their paladins into battle. The Dragonlord didn’t need her… didn’t want her. This poor young thing needed her, needed a kind soul in an empty swamp where she was alone.

“You are?” Layali asked, afraid still but more in disbelief than anything.

“Yes,” Johanna said kindly. “Now why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?” Layali just shook her head, her neck swaying back and forth. “Alright, then we can just sit here, together. Whatever had you screaming won’t hurt you while I’m here.”

“You don’t know that,” Layali whispered.

“I’m a paladin,” Johanna said, lifting her head regally. “Nothing gets by me.”

Layali’s lips curled up a bit. She nodded. “Okay. That sounds good.” She lifted her off side wing. “This is my brother, Rahab,” she said. Johanna looked at the thing and wasn’t sure what to make of it. It didn’t look like a dragon really. It looked almost like a brilliant tropical fish with legs and huge draconic eyes in a little head. Then their head frills moved and she realized with shock that it was a fae. But it didn’t have any wings. Rather they’d become decorative fins that could be used to propel them through water but were flimsy out of the water and useless for flight. “We’ve been here alone a long time.”

Johanna tore her eyes away from the wretch of a fae. What was wrong with it? “Well you aren’t alone now. Now you have me,” she said firmly.

Layali dipped her head low. “Thank you,” she whispered so softly, almost a whimper. “Thank you for coming to us, Johanna,” and she started crying again. Johanna just took her head in her arms and held it, shushing her gently and petting her along the top of the head. She stayed like that well after night fell and darkness gathered around them.

#flight rising #fr lore #fr lore share #lore share #a share if you liked it would be muy beuno!#cypress hall

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vide0-nasties · 6 years

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the rivalry is with ourselves

Pairings: Lucio/MC

Content Warnings: Very strong language, sexual come-on’s, alcohol and hashish consumption

Word Count: 2675

Author’s Note: I really just wanted to write something where a Court Magician!MC and Lucio irk the living hell out of each other with lots of references.

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When Lucio had ‘discovered’ the magician, she was a wild-eyed thing with cockleburs in her matted hair descending on a battlefield with twenty of her other black-clad Banshee Sisters, and he had no idea what an enormous pain in his ass she was going to become.

She’s impossible to live around. Insolent, belligerent, petty. If he told her to jump off a bridge, she would sprout wings and fly.

“I told you not to wear your tall boots.”

“These aren’t my tall boots,” she hums. They are her tall boots. He’s in his tallest boots, and he told her not to wear her tall boots, because he does not want to be towered over all day.

He bends and pulls on the back of her ankle, pinching the tendon as if she’s a bullheaded horse refusing to give hoof. But, like the horse, she gives. “Don’t dare lie to me. These heels are six inches.”

“Oh, aye, they are,” she laughs, jiggling the foot in his grasp. “I have a pair of eight inch heels with platforms on the toes. Brand new. Those are my tall boots.”

He drops her ankle and glares up into her masked face. She is his Court Magician, and she doesn’t like her odd face being seen. Because of this, he had masks and veils and scarves made for her, but did she ever thank him? No, of course not.

He smooths his hair back into place and bares his teeth in a facsimile of a smile. “If you insist on looking like an ogress, Eustacia, who am I to stop you?”

“Lucio—my dear, dear count. If the little donkey can’t stand the ogress,” she purrs, dropping her hands on his shoulders and her cheek against his to growl in his ear, “they should stay out of my fucking swamp.”

He hates her smug tone. He hates this his throat is suddenly clicking-dry. He hates that she called him a little donkey.

When Eustacia ‘discovered’ the count, he was a mercenary with one pathetic little shoulder pauldron and a dagger driven into his lungs whom she dragged back behind frontlines, and she had no idea what an enormous pain in the ass he was going to become.

He’s impossible to live around. Insolent, belligerent, petty. If she said the sky was blue, he would set fire to an entire village just to turn it black.

Something was so urgent, he’d sent a servant to her quarters before the crack of noon, disturbing her fitful hangover sleep. So urgent was it, in fact, she had no time to dress. She arrives in Lucio’s bawdy brothel of a bedroom in a dressing robe, and is slapped in the face by the smell of wet dog and body odor. “It reeks of Valerius in here,” she seethes, “Valerius and sweated-out wine.”

With Mercedes sprawled in his lap on the floor, fresh from the bath and having her claws filed, Lucio doesn’t deign to look up at Eustacia. “That’s probably because Valerius was in here, sweating out wine last night.”

Disgusting. She drops on the bed, petting Melchior’s stumpy ear when he drops his head in her lap. “I can’t believe you’re clipping their nails. You have servants that would die to do that bidding for you.”

“They wouldn’t get it right. And they keep getting themselves bitten because they’re idiots. Isn’t that right, Mercedes?! Ahhh, good girl!” he baby-talks the dog, clapping and scritching her upturned pale belly until she kicks a leg and yowls in her throat.

A red tongue lolls out between her teeth, and Lucio looks so pleased. He doesn’t stop looking that way when he finally concedes to look at Eustacia. ��Besides, there are servants that should be polishing your boots, yet you start pissing your pants the second they’re too close to your wardrobe.”

Ooh, she doesn’t like that—son of a bitch almost got her to use his argument for her own, they wouldn’t do it right. “They’re dogs. Their nails don’t need buffing,” she argues instead, trying to ignore how her blood pressure rises and her head thumps.

“They only deserve the best. Give daddy a kiss, Mercie. Mercie, kiss daddy. Gooood girl, what a good girl!” he laughs, heedless of Mercedes’ snapping teeth as she licks all over his face. Eustacia likes the dogs alright, but they’re so poorly trained that she draws the line at kisses. Because of this, she pushes Melchior’s head down when he starts whining and reaching for her face with his chops peeled back over his teeth.

Lucio whistles for Melchior, and the dogs trade places. “Right, anyway, why I called you here,” he starts, flipping the long dog over in his lap. “I’m hungover. I figured we’ll fuck the hangovers out of each other and brunch on the veranda.”

Vulgar, but appealing. “You’re on top.”

“If you sit around like a dead fish, I’m not doing any either,” he warns, but it’s not a hard and fast ‘no,’ so she stretches out on the bed and lets her mind flicker between brunch tartlets and Lucio’s mouth going places the holy texts say it shouldn’t.

Sir Mulverhampton’s birthday party is dull as dirt. Nadia’s made her appearance and escaped for the evening, and Lucio had already forbidden Eustacia ditching him just so he doesn’t have to face down the droning, monotonous man’s saltine-cracker-conversation on his own.

He’s monologuing about his fucking chandelier again. The enormous, tacky brass-and-glass structure that belonged to Count Dickhead Hornblower two hundred years ago, given to his family as a token of whatever. “Didn’t you kill his daughter or something?” Lucio whispers out the side of his mouth, clicking his fingers on his champagne glass.

“His niece, but I’m considering the kindness of reuniting them,” Eustacia whispers back. “You’re a rude little bastard to make me endure this. Maybe it’s you I should be reuniting with his niece.”

“Tough tits, Eustacia,” he seethes, nodding his head, forcing a smile, and raising his glass when Sir Mulverhampton looks back to make sure they’re rapt. “His family outfits the entire mounted guard with the best tack on this coast for free, and you’re not making me suffer this alone.”

“I don’t know why Nadia puts up with you,” she snorts into her champagne. Lucio narrows his eyes at her and keeps grinning as he sneers, “I don’t know how your right hand puts up with you.”

The rest of Sir Mulverhampton’s history lecture is worth sitting through, if only because Lucio gets to watch Eustacia’s indignation and offense skin her alive.

Two hours later, Sir Mulverhampton’s wife has dragged him off by the ear to read him the riot act about the awful way he’s allowing himself to be treated by his guests, and Lucio’s escaped with Eustacia to the overly-tended gardens and hired hookah bar behind the man’s stodgy home.

She stalks off to hunt down a carafe of wine, still having her panties in a bunch over his little comment earlier, and Lucio gets good and familiar with the hashish loaded in the bowl. Sir Mulverhampton’s sons must’ve had something to do with this. If they weren’t pig-faced twats, Lucio might invite them on a hunting trip.

But they are, and he won’t.

He’s completely boneless and giggly when Eustacia returns, necking straight from the bottle and prowling. “Damn. Look at you, such a mean, tough girl, drinking her drink like a big, scary sailor,” he chortles, stretching out on the white divan under him.

“My right hand might not stand me, but you’re always eager to fuck me,” she snaps, her accent obscenely thick because of the many glasses of champagne she’s already consumed, pointing an accusatory finger at him. Really, she’s still on that?

“C’mere,” he leers, patting his chest. He bites his lip, darting his tongue out between teeth and lip, waggling his brows. “I want you to ride my face.”

“Ohh, fuck you, Lucio. You little shite-arsed tit. Rude fuck. With your creepy little corpse eyes and shitey, fuck-arsed eyeliner,” she scowls, shoving the carafe in his hands and pulling on the hookah like it owes her a blood debt. That’s definitely doing something for him. His pants feel amazingly restrictive.

“Pleeaase, Eustacia, ride my face,” he wheedles, brushing a hand down her thigh. “I’ll make the most interesting noises come out of you. Make you squirt. Then you’ll take care of me.”

“Like hell, arrogant, rude shit, should’ve been drowned at birth,” she grumbles, and blows smoke in his face, but she’s already undoing her belt buckles. The sound makes Lucio’s hair stand on end.

It was supposed to be a nice little hunting trip. Ducks are in season, and Eustacia hasn’t hunted her own dinner in years. She would’ve loved to have gone on her own, but Lucio caught wind of it and turned a small, one-man hunt into a gilded march on the banks of a big lake.

A full retinue of footservants and guards have set up glaring, blood-red tents on the shore. A dozen horses and two carriages wait in the woods behind them. Cooks wait around grills, sorting fresh forage, and Eustacia is beyond offended by the display. She wanted to braid her hair up, sleep on a crappy bedroll, and slow cook greasy duck over a campfire.

And Lucio’s made it into a production.

At least he didn’t send guards out ahead to flush out game, and at least he actually waded into the shallows and thrushes instead of complaining. He’s good at keeping his mouth shut during a hunt. During dinner—a full, six-course spread that gives Eustacia the beginnings of a migraine—he refuses to shut up or keep to himself.

They take their meal on an overly glamorous bed that overlooks the glass-smooth lake, light by torches and serenaded by a violinist outside the flap. Magnanimously, he pours her a draught of wine in a thick cut-crystal goblet, and holds it to her lips. He pulls it back when she tries to drink. “No,” he chastises her, “you’re not going to act like an uncultured swine. I’m going to teach you to appreciate good wine.”

“Because you’re the crown prince of sommeliers?” she frowns.

He frowns in return, a very ugly look on his buzzed face, but he powers on heedless of her barbs. As if he isn’t from a southern tribe that’s never seen a vineyard in their entire existence, he says, “Start with the bouquet. Try to detect certain fragrances. This is a Bordeaux. You can tell that it’s leaner, more elegant and restrained than a cabernet.”

She sniffs, and all she can smell is alcohol and that it’s an impressively dry wine. She’s going to hate it. She can also tell that he doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about, either. Nadia would, but Eustacia imagines that she’s living her best life with the palace all to herself.

“Tell me what you’re smelling, Eustacia.”

Oh, poor sob, he’s trying to set a mood. He thinks making her sniff wine is a sexy thing. He’s not even aware that he sounds idiotic and she feels like a tit. What’s worse—it’s working. Even if it’s only working because she feels bad about how hard he’s trying, how smooth he thinks he is!

“I think…” she mutters gravely, as if in deep concentration, putting a hand on the back of his wrist and giving him her darkest bedroom eyes, “I think I detect…old grapes. Very old grapes.”

He roars and dumps the glass right her lap, splashing a great deal of it down her chest. She can’t help it, she starts cackling while he rants and raves and stalks the tent. He moves to leave the tent, stops, turns and slashes the air in her direction, yelling, “Nice things are WASTED on you!”

“Yes, they certainly are!” she howls, picking up the goblet and drinking the dregs from the bottom. Driest wine she’s ever consumed, but it doesn’t stop her from pulling her shirt off and throwing it at Lucio’s red face. Grinning so savagely her face might crack, she laughs, “You’ve ruined my hunting trip, my dinner, and my clothes. Might as well come over and ruin my night, too, you pretentious fuck!”

If Eustacia was miserable to deal with on her own, combining her efforts with her new apprentice Asra’s makes her insufferable. What’s worse, they’ve brought Nadia in on it. They’re always laughing and whispering to each other, flicking their eyes toward him and bursting out into cackles.

But it doesn’t matter. His mural is progressing, and he wants to show it off. It’s beautiful, it’s luxurious, and he’s made damn sure that he is the central focus.

Eustacia sways into the ballroom where the massive canvas is being painted with an arm looped through Nadia’s, followed closely by her gaudily-dressed apprentice with his hands clasped loosely behind his back. Lucio’s heels snap over the marble floor as he rushes up the meet them, and for only a moment, he’s distracted by Eustacia’s flat shoes. “No heels today, that’s an interesting change.”

“It pains me to take away from Milady’s radiance, and it pains my apprentice to crane his neck so to meet my face,” she grunts, unreadable behind the veil of diamonds that start at her hairline and disappear beneath the folded collar of her black jacket. Another gift she’s never thanked him for, but it’s not a problem.

“Isn’t there something you wanted to show us, dear?” Nadia queries, cocking a brow. She looks thoroughly bored. Lucio thinks she might’ve had something else to attend to, but he’s her husband and whoever else she needed to meet with doesn’t take precedence.

“I think it’s his animal painting,” Asra supplies, scanning the room from under his hair. “The cannibalistic one, where they’re eating other animals.”

If Eustacia wasn’t so dependent on…whatever it is he does, Lucio would’ve thrown him into the coliseum by now. He might yet do it. See how well he manages to shrug off and quip at lions. Bears, maybe.

Eustacia sighs, “Is that the one where you’re a goat, Lucio?”

“A ram,” he corrects, making a sweeping turn and leading them closer. Throwing his arms wide, he gestures at the piece that occupies a great deal of the lesser ballroom. “It’s magnificent, a masterwork! Have you ever seen such majesty—?!”

“Lucio,” Eustacia deadpans, a hand on her chest. “That bird has tits.”

“What?” He begins searching the painting, feeling heat sear up his shoulders. His blood pressure explodes like a buckled dam wall, making veins stand out on his neck and forehead. There had better not be what he thinks there is, or so help the painter.

Nadia’s hand covers her mouth, her eyes blown mischievously wide. Asra ducks his head, clearing his throat. His shoulders quake, and the quake only worsens when Nadia drops her hand on Eustacia’s shoulder and notes, “Oh, my dear. It’s not so bad. Everyone has breasts, even you. And artists should be allowed some license in their work. I think it’s…creative.”

The painter has suddenly made themselves very scarce, leaving their wide-eyed assistant behind. Lucio feels a migraine begin to drill into the spaces behind his eyes. He finds the bird, and it most certainly has a rack on it that would make a virgin faint. Pert, feathery breasts. They’re heaving.

“They’re very nice breasts,” Asra comments, but his smirk betrays his lack of genuineness.

“Never have I seen a prettier pair of tits outside of a brothel, Lucio,” Eustacia assures him. “And, look, so beatific and gracious are you in the center of it all, I’d wager that few people at all will scarcely notice her…gifts.”

Lucio only ever stops hearing about the bird’s tits when Eustacia is mercifully absent from their lives, and even that only brings him new and interesting ways to be degraded and belittled. Sometimes, he will even think that his misses the insolent witch.

#the arcana #the arcana fanfic #lucio #lucio x mc #OC: Eustacia #this is deliriously self-indulgent and i loved writing it #i mean it's definitely mine there's a shrek reference at the beginning

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starsaboveyouadoption · 4 years

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stars aligning - matching (part 2)

Last blog, we took a pause to consider the very real emotional issues to think about when considering your matching criteria. In this blog, we’ll be taking a look at a step by step guide to what to expect from the practicalities and logistics of the matching process. I was expecting this to be the succinct part, but when I was making notes, I realised just how involved it is! So please forgive me that this will be an epically long entry not for the faint of heart or easily bored! I do want to make sure that I provide as much comprehensive information to help though, as of all the stages of the process, I felt matching was shrouded in a lot of mystery and we felt answers to questions about it were quite vague until we had passed approval panel. I’ll take you up to the point of having (hopefully!) been approved at matching panel for your child, and in the next blog, we’ll look at that gap of time after panel, and the all-important introductions which will likely be the most exhilarating, delirium-inducing part of your journey which definitely warrants its own entry! I’ve chosen not to do a separate blog on matching panel as for me, the experience was very akin to approval panel with some small tweaks – others may feel differently and I’m sure that there are some great entries out there on this side of the process

So, how does it all work?

I’ll start by saying matching is far more formulaic, and far less romantic, than you might expect it to be. I actually find this quite comforting – the idea that there were very concrete, tangible factors that were all being combined to find us a child who was right for our family and vice versa. There is very certainly a particular mindset you need to get into during this phase which can feel very uncomfortable, which is one of more pragmatism than you might imagine, and a huge dollop of resilience. This phase was without doubt, the stage of the process that tested me to my limits. We had a heart-breaking experience during matching that I will write about in another blog, but suffice to say, it is not for the faint of heart. Approval panel passes in a blur of excitement, and it can be hard to be brought down with a thump when you start getting into the actual process of matching. I was expecting matching to feel exciting, but truth be told, if I’m honest, I found it stressful, quite upsetting at times, and frustrating. I’m saying this not to put anybody off, but to be real about some of the feelings you will face. I’ll try to incorporate as many tips as I can remember to help you navigate it as best as you can!

Once you have passed panel, you will either continue with your stage 2 worker, or as with us, be allocated to your very own “family finder”. This is the social worker who will be your advocate, assistant, and guide throughout the matching process, up to finding and meeting your child, bringing them home, and quite possibly post-adoption. As ever, the relationship you hold with this social worker will be vital to the task ahead of you and one of honesty and trust is (once again) key. Throughout the matching panel, they will be the person looking out for your best interests, and not that these are diametrically opposed (in fact they should obviously be aligned), but they will be the counterpart to the child’s social worker, who will likewise be their advocate.

Practically, there are 2 main methods of matching, one which is more social worker led and one more adopter led. Some agencies prefer the longer standing “manual” approach, whereby your family finder will take the lead in searching for profiles for suitable children based on their knowledge of your matching criteria, and will present potential profiles to you once they have done this research themselves. Where I’ve heard about this approach, it usually seems to come hand in hand with attempting to match adopters with a child within their chosen agency’s books first before moving onto a national search should this not be achieved within a few months’ timeframe, but this isn’t necessarily the case.

Much more common now is that adopters will search virtually using a recognised and confidential portal called Linkmaker. Ask most recent adopters and they will tell you this is how they were asked to search for a match. This method is much more adopter-led and the onus is on you as the adopter to be the proactive party in searching for children by viewing online profiles. The best way (and I’m sorry as this is a crude way of putting it!) to think about this site is to think of it a little like a dating site! You have your profile, the children have theirs, and both parties can make searches for each other. Children’s profiles are managed by their family finding social worker, and adopter profiles are managed largely by you, in consultation with your family finder. Either party can express interest in the other, and if both parties are interested from an initial view of each other’s profile, you will be invited into a messaging discussion. Your family finder acts as a middle-man, but the extent of this is determined by your agency’s individual preferences. All adopters’ family finders will ultimately monitor their adopters’ accounts and manage liaison with children’s social workers once initial contact is underway, and be your point of contact in navigating the site and any questions or concerns you may have, but some agencies prefer their family finder to take a more active lead in making enquiries and will ask that you do not do this yourself. Most, I believe, like ours, will allow you to make enquiries yourself and have relatively free reign to manage the initial stages yourself online, make searches yourself, and make preliminary contact with the social workers representing children you find, before the more complex liaison gets underway and your social worker will take over. There will therefore be varying degrees of freedom over what you can and can’t do on the site according to your agency, and it’s worth establishing your agency’s etiquette on this right from the offset, to avoid any crossed wires.

There are advantages to both methods. The manual method may suit people who find the idea of searching such a site uncomfortable. I’ll be clear that nothing prepares you for the stark reality of just how many children in the UK are in care without their own family, and the types of trauma they have experienced. I remember being shocked that I could see at least 5,000 active profiles on logging on (before I filtered down to children who matched our criteria). I just couldn’t visualise that level of need and it was really upsetting to begin with. As I say, unfortunately, you do somewhat get into a mindset of having to detach yourself from these thoughts as much as possible so you can do what needs to be done, but it is an unpleasant thought, and it can be hard to shake the thought that you are “shopping” for a child. To reject or exclude a child from your considerations is a very heart wrenching thing to have to do, and although at this stage, children may seem to be just online profiles on a web page, the gravity of what you are actually doing will hit you in waves. Some adopters simply prefer their social worker, who they trust, to do some of this work for them, and to spare them some of this emotional upheaval which I can more than understand. This way as well, social workers are able to present you with profiles they have hand chosen believing them to be a strong fit for you, and may already have done extensive research and background conversations before approaching you, so may be armed with more intimate knowledge of the child’s case. If the child is from the agency you were assessed through, it’s likely your family finder will have strong working relationships with the parties involved, and so the process may be more expedient for this inside knowledge. It can also be tough emotionally to be rejected as an adopter. When you are putting your heart in such a vulnerable place, and receiving sometimes no reply, or a very minimal one, to interest you have expressed in a child that you’re hoping might someday be yours, it can take its toll. There is also the element with Linkmaker, that you can go from very little activity to suddenly a flurry of interest and it can be overwhelming to try to handle multiple enquiries. You can quite quickly find yourself either swamped or confused by the amount of information to wade through, or feeling uneasy about backing away from a child you realise is not for you after all, when discussions have accelerated quickly. Finally, with a manual approach, your social worker is perhaps more likely to be able to alert you to children who are just about to be granted adoption orders, before their profile is even placed on Linkmaker, giving you first opportunity to consider them.

Similarly, Linkmaker has a number of advantages. We personally found a huge benefit was feeling more in control of our destiny. We could be as proactive as we wanted to be, and make steady steps every week by making enquiries, managing conversations, and scrolling for new profiles. For me, to imagine all of this in our social worker’s hands without active input into it, would have driven us mad! But each to their own. Linkmaker offers access to profiles across the country – our agency allowed us to search nationally from the beginning, so you are not dependent on waiting for a child who fits your matching criteria to arise in your agency. Matches are often encouraged out of borough/county, and Linkmaker makes the likelihood of this greater. This will sound crude and awful, but the site allows you to very clearly search for profiles that match your criteria, to view legal status of children’s adoption orders, and to understand their circumstances at a glance that helps you to decide before you are too emotionally invested, whether this child might be right for you. Photos aren’t everything but I won’t pretend that being able to see photos and videos on Linkmaker didn’t really bring children’s profiles to life and helped us to visualise whether we could see this child becoming part of our family in our mind’s eye. For want of a better word, we found Linkmaker an “efficient” way (most of the time) to search for matches, and it made us feel we were putting ourselves out there. The fact that children’s family finders could find us, meant that we also had the possibility of being approached, which we felt increased our chances of being matched sooner.

As Linkmaker is so prevalently the norm these days, and it’s the story I know, I’ll assume that you are using this, but I’ll also go on to address the stages beyond Linkmaker, which is really just the start of proceedings. I’ll start with some of the “hows” and then move on to my top tips:

Roughly in this order, you can expect the following:

· Upon passing approval panel, your family finder will meet with you to talk through the process in more detail and revisit your matching criteria (it’s quite possible this may have changed). They should help you think about how to build a profile and will provide you with login access to Linkmaker. · Your social worker will activate your account for you, and you will be unlocked to view profiles as an “approved adopter” account. From this point on, your social worker will monitor your activity and will receive emails about key updates such as when you have expressed interest in a child or messaged their social worker. There is also an option to “alert” your social worker to a profile, in the case you may want them to look first before making contact on your behalf. · You will upload your profile – LM has a number of prompts to help you fill in the right info and ideally you’ll add a few photos and if you fancy, a short video. · Your profile will show your blurb, photos, and your matching criteria · You can conduct searches for children’s profiles using LM’s filters. You can initiate contact with a social worker via the child’s profile in the form of a direct message or can ask your social worker to do so on your behalf. Similarly, sometimes you will be the one approached by a social worker for a child. The party being approached can either decline or accept a “discussion”, and if accepted, you can then send direct messages between yourselves, and the various family finders. · As an adopter, you can express interest in and be in active discussions open for up to 5 children at any one time but can “bookmark” profiles for later. Where you make an enquiry and do not receive a response within a week, LM will prompt the other party, or will close after 2 weeks of inactivity. · You will have a LM dashboard which shows your active discussions, any children’s profiles you have “bookmarked”, and the progress of any discussions. · Children’s family finders will shortlist potential profiles from interested adopters, and should they be interested to know more about you, will request your PAR from your social worker. They will then read these in detail and then will shortlist these down further to usually a small number of adopters who they will then send the child’s CPR. We did have simultaneous swaps at times, but more often that not, social workers won’t share the CPR with every adopter they’re in discussions with, only to a handful of adopters they are keen on. · Usually, at this stage your social worker will become more heavily involved and help you to comb through the CPR. If at this stage, you are still serious about the child, your social worker should help you think of any additional information you would like to know, and there may be some back and forth messaging between parties. · Usually, this process will occur between children and adopter’s family finders until usually 2 or 3 adopters are shortlisted again for a home visit from the child’s social workers. At this stage, it is pretty common that a lot of matches are what they call a “competitive match” (eugh, I hate that term, but I guess it describes the reality accurately), i.e. you are not the only adopter(s) being visited and the visits are a chance for all parties to learn more about each other, and for the child’s family finder to decide on a preferred adopter. We were fortunate in that our eventual match was not competitive in that the agency in question only visited us, but we had been involved in a potential competitive match prior to that. · The home visit will usually be around 2-3 hours long, and include you and all the relevant social workers. This is a chance to assess you further. They will want to have a look around your home, to get a sense of how you live, the health and safety, and to check the child’s bedroom. · Usually the meeting will start with the social workers telling you more information about the child – their background, their time in care and any moves, their development since the CPR was written, and basically filling in any gaps or updates. They will also usually show you more up to date photos and videos. · Your social worker will have helped you to prepare a list of questions you’d like to ask and there’ll be an exchange of general Q&A. · Typically, you will hear the outcome of the home visit within a few days – most agencies will usually let you know very swiftly, typically the following day. If you are sadly not chosen, you can ask for feedback as to why.

If you are chosen, then congratulations! At this stage, things start becoming far more real. If you are still in agreement you’d like to move forward with the match, you will be what is referred to as “linked” as you’re not yet formally matched at panel, but understood to be working towards this. Please rest assured that the children’s social workers would not put you forward for panel if they didn’t feel you were a completely awesome match for the child, so although it’s always good not to rest on your laurels, it should feel more or less an assumption that you will be adopting this child, unless something significant happens, or comes to light they didn’t know about you (remember that honesty thing again!). Some agencies are a little more conservative about their approach and don’t like to encourage you to get ahead of yourself, but most these days you will find to be supportive, overjoyed for you, and very much working in the spirit that this match is going ahead. From here, you can expect to be trusted with more confidential information about the child that you wouldn’t have been privy to pre-linking, and you may well be sent a variety of different court and medical papers, all of which are important to read through with a fine-tooth comb, and to address any arising issues. Essentially, you will now all be working towards an agreed date for matching panel and introductions (timeframes really differ but as a very approximate guide, for a lot of people I know a wait of between 3-5 months until move-in was fairly typical without any major speed bumps).

These may happen in a different order, but there are some key things you can expect to happen to keep you busy!:

· Your social worker will be working on completing a bundle for matching panel similar to approval and may need your help in updating aspects of your PAR. You’ll be asked to sign various bits of paper, declarations etc, and to write some statements about why you feel you are a good match for the child.

· You’ll attend a few meetings throughout this time with all social workers to do various bits of planning and to exchange more Q&A

· You will be set up with a meeting with foster carers, who you will be spending time with during introductions, and have the opportunity to ask them all manner of Qs, from practicalities about things to buy, through to how your child is doing and anything about their story or personality. In many instances now, contact is encouraged prior to introductions to help break the ice and you may exchange phone numbers.

· You will be asked to prepare a photo book and/or a video to help your child get to know your face and voice for introductions – this is probably the cringiest aspect of the whole thing and perhaps I will do an entry on this at some point! Usually, you will be asked to provide them with a “transition object” for bonding, especially for babies – so a blanket or comforter with your scent on (yes, really!) that you will probably be asked to sleep with for a few days and will be handed to foster carer to give to the child

· You will be asked to a formal meeting with the child’s adoption doctor to go through any medical/developmental issues and make sure you fully understand any (potential) diagnoses or conditions, or uncertainty in the child’s medical history. You’ll also get as much information as is known about the birth/pregnancy.

· You’ll be asked to make final tweaks for your house to welcome your child – any outstanding health and safety issues, or installing any equipment needed for children with additional needs.

Depending on a number of factors, there are two other possible meetings you may be invited to:

· Some agencies in more recent times have started to offer “bump into” meetings. These are a way for you to physically see your child in person and for them to get familiar with you during the process of waiting for introductions. These are particularly helpful for older children. These may involve “bumping into” the foster carers at a local park or outside space, either watching the child from a distance, or playing with them as a “friend” of the foster carer. This might give your child the opportunity to have played with you or built some base level of trust with you before introductions, or for you to have seen them in person. This is sometimes recommended for children with additional needs or challenging behaviours so that adopters can get a better insight into their day to day experience.

· It is becoming more common to be offered a one-off opportunity to meet with the birth parents. This is only appropriate in circumstances where risk posed is considered to be low, and you will be supported through this. A social worker would facilitate the meeting at a neutral venue, no confidential information would be provided to the birth parent, and it would be relatively formal/short. This often doesn’t materialise even when offered as it depends on birth parents being willing and turning up etc, but it can be an invaluable way to find out information for your child that might prove really important to them when older, and they may gain a lot from knowing you once met their birth parents. You might want to ask about family history, things like why they chose your child’s name, any wishes they have for your child etc. Sadly, we didn’t get this opportunity because of risk but I sometimes really wish we’d have had the chance.

Finally, you will attend matching panel, and almost certainly be approved! In which case, congratulations, the true rollercoaster starts here! I’ve chosen not to do a separate blog about this as it follows a very similar format to the approval panel, but for what it’s worth, many people, myself included, would tell you that matching panel feels a lot less formal, and much more celebratory than approval panel, because to get to this stage, you already have so much support behind you for the match and it really is more or less a formality. Obviously questions are more targeted to the child themselves and the reason for the match, but other than that it is very similar.

Introductions are a whooooole adventure in themselves, which I want to do justice so I’ll go on next time to speak about this!

For now, here are my top tips about the matching process!

Linkmaker/Miscellaneous

· In my experience, there are some unspoken rules about the “etiquette” of matching that can differ from agency to agency which can sometimes cause a bit of crossed wires. Yes, technically, you can express interest in multiple children but either through LM, or other means, it’s worth trying to be as selective as you can. Our agency was supportive of us enquiring about as many as we liked but we did find on occasion this meant nothing would happen for weeks followed by a sudden rush of messages flying backwards and forwards. Irrespective of how confusing this can be on a practical level, it can be testing emotionally – both because you may now find yourself in the position of having to “let down” some children’s family finders, and because of the sheer amount of frankly quite distressing information you will have to be digesting about multiple children at any one time. The times I personally felt better in matching was when we perhaps expressed interest in 2 children we were really keen on – there is a certain emotional investment even at this early stage, and you can find yourself very swept away with it all, which seems inevitable, so it can help to at least keep focused. That said, remember that ultimately it is your call, and remember that the children are none the wiser at this stage, so try your best to reassure yourself that they will not be aware of any decline on your behalf. Far better to decline now than get further into the process. There is certainly an argument that because of how emotionally distressing it can be to get so many hopes up about one child in the very early stages, making multiple enquiries and taking a more pragmatic approach can help you feel one step removed and in more control. Ultimately this decision is down to you. However, by the time you agree to a home visit about a child, it will be expected for you to be taking them seriously and the general unsaid etiquette is that you wouldn’t pursue 2 children to this extent at the same time – social workers put a lot of resource and time into shortlisting adopters and preparing for home visits. Don’t let this pressure you on a final decision though – by all means concentrate on each home visit one by one, but it’s as you’re your opportunity to explore the match as their’s

· Try not to fall into the trap of making your profile too “glossy” – I was consistently told the more appealing profiles to children’s family finders are not those boasting about the excellent array of grammar schools in the area, or with glam selfies, but those with smiley, outdoorsy pictures showing you living your life (and a cute dog/cat never hurts!). Choose photos that reflect the real you, and this will shine through

· It’s maddening to have to accept this, but do expect delays. Understandably, this is life altering for you and it is beyond frustrating to have to wait a couple of several weeks for a response to a message, but do bear in mind that family finders are sifting through likely dozens of enquiries for some children and need to take their time to rake through profiles before choosing which adopters to respond to. Plus, I don’t think I’ve ever come across an adequately staffed social work team! These people are unbelievably busy and may be balancing family finding with aspects of their job like removals and case conferences for immediately vulnerable children, so patience is a virtue! (I know, I know…!)

· With this in mind, it can be good to develop an agreement with yourself/your partner about what you will put your mind to during wait times, and the frequency you will log in. LM can become all consuming, I’d even say addictive. Your emotions will be at a peak and it’ll be so hard to switch off, but one of my biggest regrets is not giving myself enough breathing time. Trust me, you will really, really need some time “off”. Ideally, try to give yourself some adoption free days. It might be time for some self-care, or hobbies…or if you really must, something practical around the house that makes you feel you are doing something proactive without badgering the social workers! (Though in truth sometimes they need to be badgered!!)

· I found that new profiles generally appeared a couple times a week as usually social workers would bulk upload profiles in their area. I’d recommend perhaps logging on twice a week using the “recently added” filter, so you can find the children added on very recently. When you get into a system of doing this it helps you to catch new profiles as early as possible. Annoyingly, many profiles seem to be left active for enquiries only to find out that PARs have already been shortlisted in the background, so the key time to catch many is in their first couple of weeks online (especially for (sorry…) “easier to place” babies).

· Try to consider the less obvious profiles. You’ll come across some profiles which are very minimal with no photo and some ambiguity about legal status. This is usually profiles where children are still at the tail end of the legal proceedings which confirm adoption orders and so social workers are starting to look for potential adopters but there may be a little more uncertainty or waiting involved. Often if you send an enquiry to the social worker for these children, they’ll be glad to hear from you and will be able to divulge a little more information to your social worker.

· Don’t be afraid to ask more about vague profiles – the quality of a profile can be at the mercy of the social worker who has authored them. Some are not very clear and there can be lots of very general statements such as “global development delay” or “missing chromosome” which imply developmental issues but don’t give a lot away and could mean a myriad of things. Ask your social worker to find out more concrete information and similarly, don’t be afraid to push for medical reports. Children with adoption orders are supposed to have regular medical check-ups, but in practice, we found almost all children we enquired about were overdue for theirs and you were trying to piece together information from a newborn medical. Honest transparent social workers should be happy to fill you in on more information.

· Try not to get too put off by this “competitive matching” idea. It’s really hard and we were often put off from enquiring about children we perceived would be very “popular” as we felt we would just be lost in a sea of applicants, but despite that, we still got a fair amount of interest back. Different social workers will be looking for specific qualities in adopters based on the child’s needs and you may just be the ideal people so don’t discount yourself. It is never a good idea to compromise on your matching criteria out of a place of desperation or impatience. The biggest advice I can offer is to try to remain clear on the type of child you visualise joining your family and any lines in the sand. Tempting as it may be, try to notice when you find yourself moving the goalposts or placing pressure on your partner when they are unsure. It can be so hard to keep sight of this when the waiting is agony, but you’ll be so glad you did when you find your little one. And if it’s a no for one of you, it needs to be a no for both.

· When making enquiries, a personalised message goes a long way. We are talking about finding your future child. Social workers want to know why this child specifically, what appeals to you about them, what do you feel you can offer them? Try to show you have taken in information about their identified needs and how specifically you can support them with these best in your home. Don’t be afraid to be slushy – if you fell in love with the photo of the child, or there was just something about their personality that really shone out to you, their family finder will know you are loving people who aren’t just sending out generic posts to everyone. You can even use the message to ask some specific questions about information you’d like to follow up

Reviewing CPRs

· Look through reports with a fine-tooth comb and try to not dismiss any red flags you see out of denial. If you notice something such as a concerning medical issue or something that worries you about the child’s behaviour or development, make a note of it and ensure to ask more information so you can make an informed decision about whether to pursue the match based on all the facts available. I was really shocked by how threadbare some CPRs were, while others provided everything we needed to know. There really is no such thing as too many questions here.

· CPRs often have the bulk of the information your child will be privy to about their birth family’s history. If this feels patchy, don’t be afraid to ask for more information, and if you see any key red flags, the child’s family finder should be able to fill you in more. Think about how comfortable you are with being able to tell the child about this life story – how would you feel about telling them all the facts however traumatic? If you do not feel able to handle the worst aspects of their story, then this will tell you what you need to know

· When reading CPRs, particularly in preparation for a home visit, in your head start to match identified needs with what you can offer/provide. Social workers will be looking through the lens of what it is about your lifestyle, your family and home that can match the needs this child has for a happy future. Show you have understood and taken in the salient points.

· Pay attention to how many foster moves the child has had – it’s not uncommon for children to be moved several times, even within their first year. Be sure to get a clear sense of the timelines, reasons for moves, and how the child adapted to these changes. Pay super close attention to any views on their current attachment style with their foster carer. Though it can bring up uncomfortable feelings of envy, what you really want is to know this child is capable of making secure, loving attachments, so you would want them to be close and bonded to their foster carer with some separation anxiety which evidences their ability to attach. Problems with forming attachments with foster carers should be viewed as a red flag for potential future difficulties associated with trauma, loss and grief.

Home Visits

· It’s probably futile me saying this, but do just try to be yourself! I learnt fairly quickly during stage 2, that trying to be the “perfect” adopter doesn’t work. Social workers really don’t want the glossy version of you. They just want to know your real personality, get a sense of your lifestyle, see the more casual sides of you that would fit in to how you might parent your potential child, and though it may feel like it, they’re really not there to trip you up! By the time you are being visited at home, this is an endorsement that you are seen as a suitable match for the child, but the social workers want to meet you in the flesh and blood and be sure of that. Yes, if it makes you feel better have a tidy up and clean the loo, but don’t feel you have to present a show home – after all they want to know you’ll be comfortable with a messy house when the time comes, and that you’re flexible around the demands of a child!

· Home visits, even though you’re bound to feel huge pressure, are actually pretty informal. I’ve never met a social worker who doesn’t like a biscuit, so get a fancy M&S box in (you know, the ones with the blue foil!), get the kettle on, and strategically position your cute cat/dog/bunny rabbit in full view for cooing. Subtle ways to show your loving side!

· It can be really difficult but try not to be too swayed by falling in love with photos you are shown. I say this in the full knowledge of hypocrisy that Little Star’s photos made my heart melt, but also by that time, we had raked through his CPR so much that we knew we were the parents for him based on a number of less romantic factors. Who knows, you may even not wish to see photos until you’ve made up your mind about your child. I’ve known some adopters go this route and I have to say, it didn’t change a thing about how they felt about their child once they saw those pics – every one of them felt the same surge in their heart, in the full knowledge they’d made a decision based on compatibility over “cuteness”.

· A tip on something we never really considered until our family finder prompted us..it’s always worth asking in the early stages if the foster carers have expressed an interest in adopting the child. It’s a myth that many foster carers want to…most love the child to bits and have provided them with a fantastic beginning to what could have been a tragic story, but aren’t applying to parent them in the long run. However, foster carers do occasionally decide to, and it saves a lot of heartache if you know this in advance so you can know your realistic prospects.

Foster Carers

· Only one tip here really…as you will find out in introductions, foster carers are your real allies! Make the most of any meeting with them to find out the more realistic story of your child’s day to day development, personality and bond – and any challenging issues you need to know about. They are doing the day to day of looking after your child and will know them much more intimately than anyone else so do come armed with notebooks full of questions if it helps you and leave no stone unturned. Most foster carers will be more than happy to help you with anything you need to know – after all, it’s their job! Push for contact if you can – swapping numbers and messaging can be a great way of being able to fire away all those little Qs that keep you awake at night that no one else would know!

Medicals

· Play close attention to key phrases within the medical reports. Most adoption medicals as a rule take a very conservative, risk-averse view of the known facts so can be very scary. They’ll be full of lots of possibilities linked to the quality of pregnancy and what is known about family genetics and circumstances but especially in the case of infants, these are just that, unknown possibilities. It is very unlikely in my experience that you will receive any definitive answers about potential issues in infants under 18 months old, but a good adoption medical should be identifying any observations linked to key milestones having been/not been reached, any noted physical issues, and any relevant family history, such as admission for mental health sections, use pf psychiatric medicines during pregnancy, hereditary conditions etc. These should, in a suitably thorough medical, add up to an ability to provide you with a well-informed view of the risks associated with the child’s future. You will categorically not find an adoption medical without some potential future concerns given the reasons why children are placed for adoption, but these will usually present the worst-case scenario and you will likely gauge more of an idea of the real view of the Doctor when you meet with them prior to intros. My advice would be to always request a discussion with the Doctor at an earlier stage if there are things troubling you. Medical appointments seem to come inappropriately late in proceedings in my view, but your social worker should be able to support you to speak to someone sooner.

Well, that’s a brain dump if ever I saw one, but I do hope this is helpful in giving you the inside track as to what to expect. As ever, please don’t be afraid to message me with any Qs, through Tumblr or Instagram, and next time, we’ll explore the exciting bit…introductions!

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ourimpavidheroine · 6 years

Note

could you do “Where do you think you’re going” for Mieli and her husband?

Tupilek watched out the window of the cab as the neighborhood gradually changed. He’d been told that the clinic wasn’t in the worst of the city’s neighborhoods; it wasn’t exactly nice, either. He could see the entrance to the bridge looming in the near distance, the one that was just called First Bridge, apparently. He still hadn’t gotten all of them straight yet, and there was another one being built to the south of the city, this one to accommodate the gradual overspill from what used to be the downtown area before the spirit portal had arrived and had wiped most of it out.

The city was very big. Bigger than he’d expected, and he’d expected pretty big.

He’d only arrived the night before, traveling north on Master Iskani’s eldest sister’s ship, The Tiger Seal. Captain Tanka had met up with her other sister Yumi when they docked and she’d taken him with her, telling him he could stay in the back room of her dojo until he found a place of his own. He knew she was the middle Hou-Ting princess’s biological mother; Master Iskani had told him it wasn’t a secret, that the princess and her family acknowledged it. Yumi was a bluff, friendly woman, no-nonsense in a way he’d recognized from Master Iskani as well as Captain Tanka. He’d liked her immediately.

He’d meant to contact Natsiq to tell her that he’d arrived, but no one had answered the phone at the clinic. He figured it might be just as easy to show up in person. He’d brought with him a fair amount of supplies from down south, including the dried seaweed Natsiq had specifically requested. He’d left most of it back at the dojo, though, figuring they’d know better than he how to transport all of it.

“The Bridge Clinic, right? This is it here.” The cabbie jerked his thumb as he pulled over. He fumbled with the unfamiliar money before handing it over, picking up the box he’d brought and getting out. He took in the rather battered looking door, the single small window to the side dirty and cracked. He frowned. Quite a few people were milling outside, most of them poorly dressed; one of them, a young girl, was coughing so hard her entire body was shaking with it. He went to push the door open and a man grabbed at his arm.

“You ain’t takin’ no cuts in line, I been here since it opened!”

“I’m an employee,” he said.

“You a healer?” The man peered suspiciously at him; his traditional clothes in blues and browns, boots to the knee, his dark hair with its severe widow’s peak caught back at his nape before being clubbed into a thick tail that fell to the middle of his shoulders, wrapped with the beaded leather clasp his grandmother had given him for his tenth birthday.

“Not a very good one, I’m afraid.” He smiled. “I’m not really here for that. Excuse me.” He moved past him and pushed open the door, feeling resistance as it shoved into someone who promptly cursed at him. The small lobby beyond was crammed full of people; coughing, bleeding, complaining or silent with suffering, sitting on the floor or standing, unwashed for the most part. He lifted the box above his head and started to wade through to the door at the other end of the lobby, doing his best not to step on anyone. He managed to get through and tried the doorknob; it was locked.

“Where do you think you’re going?” This voice had a completely different accent; he turned to see a tall woman frowning at him. He blinked in surprise; she resembled Master Iskani so much that for a shocked moment he’d thought she’d somehow appeared here. On second look it wasn’t her, of course; this woman was considerably younger, for one thing, and her eyes were the dark blue of gentians instead of the master’s much lighter turquoise. She was dressed in a simple tunic and trousers, covered with some sort of a thick pinafore, her curling hair pinned neatly back, bare of jewelry or any other ornamentation. There was no mistaking her for a patient, however.

“You’re Princess Meili? I’m Tupilek, from the Southern Water Tribe. Natsiq hired me?” He shifted the box as a grimy hand reached for it. “Ah, please don’t touch, these are medical supplies.” He smiled down at the boy who owned the hand. “No food, I’m sorry.” The boy lost interest at that and wandered off.

The princess’s frown cleared. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. We’re swamped,” she gestured around her, “as you can see. Natsiq is with a patient and so is Rohan, you can meet him later. I don’t mean to be rude, but…” She gestured again.

He nodded politely. “Of course. At least let me take this box back for you. It’s got some supplies Natsiq asked for.”

“Thanks. Give me a moment, we have to keep it locked or else they’ll take anything that isn’t nailed down.” She turned from him then, going back to a woman who was holding a sodden cloth to her bleeding arm, speaking to her quietly before motioning her along.

After she let him in he dropped the box off and found Natsiq; a quick hello and a promise she’d talk to him later, and he was waved at by a man about her age, tattooed arrows gleaming a bright blue on his shaved head, hands and forearms. Healer Rohan the airbender, of course. The back room had been transformed into several smaller rooms, separated by tall screens, neat and clean. The storeroom, however, was a disaster, and he blew out a long breath when he contemplated what it would take to get it into good working order.

Natsiq hadn’t been kidding when she said they needed someone to run the clinic for them. He borrowed her key and went back into the lobby just in time to stop a fight between two women, each accusing the other of trying to get in first. Meanwhile, there was an old man he hadn’t seen on the floor, his eyes closed, his breathing irregular, overlooked in all the chaos.

He took a deep breath and got his pen ready, centering a clipboard he’d found in the back in his hands. “Ladies and gentlemen! If I could have your attention, please.” A few people looked at him, but not many. No help for it, then. “OY! Quiet down now,” he bellowed, using the voice his own Dad would use to call all of them in from across the tundra. It worked; the room quieted down. He smiled. “Thanks, folks. Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to come up to me, one at a time, tell me your name and what’s wrong. That way I can tell which healer you need to see and in what order you need to see them. Emergencies need to go first, and so do children.”

“That ain’t fair! I got here first!” One of the women whose fight he’d just broken up shoved her way belligerently to the front.

“Madam, do you know what the fee is for this clinic?” He met her eyes.

“What you sayin’? There ain’t no fee!”

“That is correct. That means that when any of you come here, you are being treated by healers who are doing what they are doing for little or no money. No one is making a profit here. Because of this, the clinic is understaffed. The healers are doing their very best to treat you. In order to do that, they need to know what your complaint is so that they can try to help as many people as possible in the quickest time possible. To facilitate that they need to see patients in order of importance, not in order of who arrived when.”

The woman sniffed at this. “You want to say that in plain words for me to understand?”

“This clinic, going forward, will take patients based on how badly they need treatment instead of first come first served. It will make the queues go quicker and make sure everyone gets the best care possible.” He smiled at her. “I know everyone wants that.”

She grunted at this. “Well, put me first on your list there, then.”

“What’s your name and why are you here today?”

“The name’s Ming and I got me a fierce itch in my lady parts.”

“Yer lucky yer lady parts ain’t fallen off yet!” hollered some wit from near the door, and after Ming sent him a rude sign with her fingers there were widespread snickers from around the room. He caught himself from smiling just in time, writing down her name and complaint before looking up.

“Next, please.”

He got their names and their ailments: a cough that was bringing up blood (that one was next for Master Rohan), a child who’d been feverish for over a week now (Natsiq was good with fevers, he knew), a heavily pregnant woman who, with fear in her eyes, told him that she hadn’t felt the baby move once that day. She he escorted back immediately, taking her straight to the princess, who had her lay down, water already in her hands.

Once he’d gotten all of their names he started in with the things he knew he could handle himself. He cleaned the infection out of a nasty graze and packed it with salve and gauze, telling the man to return in two days to be checked. Next was a toddler, harassed mother in tow, who had a marble up her nose, gently eased out with some water into her delighted brother’s hands. The sudden sound of a baby crying from behind the door hushed the waiting room before people nudged each other and nodded, smiling and even clapping a little. He closed his eyes briefly and let out a relieved breath. “A blessing on the baby and mother,” he murmured, and the old woman sitting next to him nodded her head with approval.

The princess came out about a half hour later, looking slightly weary. She opened her mouth and then closed it, gazing about the room in surprise. People were sitting, for the most part, thanks to a few of the relatively healthy patients whom he’d asked to help fetch some empty crates he’d been informed were sitting abandoned in the back alley. “The baby and mother?” he asked, getting her attention, and she nodded. “Fine. Thankfully. She needs to rest and recover, but I can see someone else in the interim.”

He glanced down at his clipboard. “Wang.” Three people looked up expectantly from around the room. “Ah, I mean Wang with the broken foot.” The Wang in question stood with help from his son, balancing on one leg. “Let me give you a hand.” He turned a stern glance back towards the room. “I’ll be right back. There won’t be any problems, correct?”

“You go on, then.” Ming With The Itch stood up and smacked a fist into her hand. “I’ll keep order out here.”

“Thank you, Ming.”

“You got it, Boss.”

He put his arm around Wang, helping the man to hop back to an empty table. “This is Wang, he fell off a ladder yesterday. I did a quick check; the foot appears to be broken. I did what I could for the swelling but I left the setting of it into your far more capable hands.”

The princess blinked. “Oh. Thank you.” She stared at him for a moment before shaking herself slightly and reaching for the large pitcher of water. He walked around to where the new mother lay, baby in her arms.

“Hello,” he said softly. “Can I bring you anything? Some water?”

“Some water would be good,” she said, not taking her eyes away from her child. He fetched her a glass, helping her to steady it as she drank. “Thank you, sir.”

“You rest,” he replied. “Is there anyone we can fetch for you?”

She met his eyes then. “My husband, he’s working on the bridge. He don’t know where I am.”

“What’s his name?”

“Big Li.”

“Well, I’ve got a bridge worker out there who’s got a knock to the head that needs seeing. I’ll see if he knows your husband. If he does we can ask him to take him a message, how’s that?”

“Thank you sir, thank you.”

He patted her gently on the shoulder. “We’ll figure it out, don’t worry. Your job is to rest now.”

He went back out to the lobby to speak to the bridge worker, who did know Big Li and promised to pass along the message. Taking a deep breath he turned to smile at a man who had just walked in the door, his jaw swollen and discolored. “Well, that looks painful. Can you manage to tell me your name and what happened?”

Towards the end of the day he started to turn away those that could wait until tomorrow; none of them were particularly happy about it but he was firm. “Emergencies only, the clinic is getting ready to close, please return tomorrow,” he repeated, Ming With The Itch standing behind him, turning a baleful glare at those who started to argue. “Ming, are you still here?”

“Figured you might need some help. You ain’t all that big.”

He laughed at that. “Well thanks, Ming. You got everything taken care of?”

“Yeah, that airbender gave me somethin’ to spread around down there, smells like somethin’ died but he says it works.” She shrugged. “Dunno yet, I’ll letcha know.”

“You do that, then.” He nodded, looking around the lobby. “Well, I think we’re done for today. Thanks for your assistance, Ming.” She clapped him on the back, nearly sending him sprawling.

“Take care, Boss. See ya tomorrow, mebbe.” She sucked on her teeth for a minute. “I ain’t got no work at the present, it might be that I could come down and do some cleanin’ here. Make this waitin’ room a little nicer to sit in.” She shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt. Alright, I’m outta here.” Out the door she went, and he locked it behind her, going into the back. Big Li had arrived a few minutes earlier; the princess was giving him some yuan.

“I can’t take it, I just can’t,” he said, holding the baby in his arms.

“She can’t walk home,” the princess said. “She needs to take a cab. I’ve called one. Please take it and put her right to bed. If there is any extra you can keep it.”

“I’ll pay you back,” he said, and the princess opened her mouth to argue, but Tupilek cut her off.

“Big Li, yes?” At the man’s nod he smiled. “It’s not necessary to repay the yuan. What you could do, however, would be to help me in the lobby. I’d like to add some simple benches for people to sit on, something a little sturdier than the crates, maybe add a desk for me to sit at. Is that something you think you could do? When you have time, that is.”

“I could do that,” the man replied eagerly. “You can count on me, sir.” He stuck his hand out and Tupilek shook it.

“It’s settled, then. If you would take your wife, I can take your son here. I believe the cab is waiting.”

The man carefully scooped his wife up and followed him out the door, putting her gently inside the cab before taking the baby from his arms. “Thank you, sir. Thank you.”

He nodded and waved them off before walking back into the door, straight into a hug from Natsiq, who laughed as she thumped his back.

“What did I tell you, Meili? I told you he’d be perfect!”

“It’s very good to meet you,” Rohan said, bowing. “Spirits, but today was quite a day. I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to really say hello earlier.”

“It was a little chaotic here,” he agreed, bowing in return. “I do hope you’ll tell me how I can best help you.”

The princess snorted, an unexpected sound. “I think you’re already off to a good start.”

“Where are you staying?” Natsiq slung an arm around his shoulder.

“Well, Master Iskani’s sister Yumi is letting me stay at her dojo until I find a place.” He laughed. “Which makes it sound like I know where to find a flat. I don’t.”

Rohan put his hands on his hips, looking around the lobby. “You ought to come with me to the Island.” At Tupilek’s puzzled look he clarified. “The Air Nation temple, I mean. We’ve room and plenty. I take my air bison to and from work every day, you could ride with me, save you from a commute. I wouldn’t recommend anywhere in this neighborhood to live in.”

Natsiq shook her head. “No, safe enough for the residents, but you’re not one of them. They’d know you for an outsider and treat you like one.”

“You keep your air bison here?” He tried desperately to figure out where an air bison would be lurking. He understood they were very large.

Rohan grinned. “No, there’s no room. I call him with a special whistle, he can hear it from miles away, he stays on the Island while I’m here. So what do you say?”

He ran a hand across his mouth. “I…well. I’ll admit I wasn’t looking forward to sleeping on a cot in the middle of a storeroom. It’s doable though. You’re sure taking me home wouldn’t be an imposition?”

“It wouldn’t, trust me. My parents have an open door policy, and in any case I’m sure my Dad would love to hear all about the goings on down south. We can swing by Yumi’s, pick up your things, drop off Natsiq and then drop off Meili before heading over.”

“I actually have quite a few boxes at the dojo, supplies and such.”

“We can take those as well, it’s fine. Exit - my air bison - can manage them without a problem.”

“You’re quiet tonight,” Natsiq said, putting a hand to the princess’s shoulder. “You okay?”

“You were a very big help,” the princess said, looking at him. “Thank you. I don’t think I quite realized how much we needed someone like you.”

“I hope I can be of use,” he replied. “It’s why I came.” He smiled at her and she returned it, finally. She had a beautiful smile.

There was a resounding bellow from above the roof; Rohan gestured theatrically. “Our ride is here. Shall we?”

They walked out and he locked the door behind them, doing his best not to cringe in surprise at the enormous beast calmly disrupting traffic as it landed in the middle of the street. He’d need to get another set of keys made and take inventory of the storeroom, find someone to do regular cleaning as well. Maybe Ming would be up for it? What was the budget for that, anyhow? As he hauled himself up to the air bison’s saddle with the leather straps Rohan considerately threw down, he grinned at the marble-wielding brother and his friends who were daring each other to dash forward and pet Exit. “Keep those marbles away from your sister, now,” he called down, and waved.

#imagines writing prompt #my fanfiction #meili #Anonymous #long post

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texanredrose · 7 years

Note

I just read the Freezerburn Arranged Marriage AU in one go, and I. Need. MORE.

Yeah, haha, I got a little distracted with other projects, so part 11 isn’t done yet, but- WAIT. SHIT. AFTER CHECKING, I APPARENTLY DIDN’T POST PART 10 YET. I AM SO SORRY.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 (here)

Yang awoke with a curse caught in her throat and a thickness in her chest that promised to take a week’s worth of coughing to dislodge. Although extremely well versed in using her chi to deter grievous wounds, the blonde had yet to master keeping herself free of illness, which meant her trek through the freezing rain the night before had left her facing the mundane nuisance of a minor cold. Her head felt cloudy, as though she was wading through a swamp just to reach the next thought, and the pressure above the bridge of her nose hinted at built up mucus clogging her sinuses. With a groan, she pushed herself into a sitting position, suddenly aware she was on her back but not quite sure why that set off alarm bells in the back of her mind until she managed to get herself upright. Forcing her bleary eyes open, Yang cast a look around for her wife, an apology replacing the curse as she remembered not only her propensity for snoring but the position which seemed to cause it. Dull lilac searched the immediate area but Weiss was nowhere to be found, though a few things had changed since she’d fallen asleep the night before.

The slim blade had disappeared, likely with its owner, but her gauntlets were laid with care above the orange cloth as always, the fabric looking freshly cleaned rather than simply dried after being peeled off her the night before, and the gleam to the metal spoke of a recent polish applied to it rather than the water spots and mud from when she’d stumbled on her way back home. At first, guilt washed over her, the obvious explanation being that she’d driven the woman from their bed in the wee hours of the morning and the Atlesian had taken to occupying her time with cleaning up after Yang rather than sit idle, but she could see the sliver of bright sunlight peeking past the bottom of the blinds on the window, indicating that it might well be afternoon rather than morning. She’d obviously overslept, which gave her hope that she hadn’t rolled onto her back until sometime after Weiss had awoken naturally, but it didn’t bode well for her; the messengers from the day before had brought with them enough news to nearly bury her, meaning she’d already lost far too much time to slumber. There was too much to do for her to stay in bed, succumbing to a simple cold. She needed to get to her study immediately, pour over her maps and wrack her brain until a solution presented herself, and she only had about two days to do it by her guess, considering the dire situations presented to her.

Honestly, Yang wasn’t even sure if she could find a suitable solution- one that would solve every problem presented to her- but lying in bed certainly wouldn’t help her one way or another.

Throwing off the blanket and swinging her legs over the side of the bed, the curse she’d bitten back earlier slipped from her lips as her chest and throat protested the movement, followed by a coughing fit that shook the frame beneath her.

That was as far as she got.

“Yang?” Her wife called from down the hall, entering the bedroom a moment later and scowling when blue eyes fell on the scene before her. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I- I have- my study-” The blonde fought valiantly to silence her cough, drawing forth the warmth of her chi to try calming her stuttering lungs, but to no avail. Eventually, she stopped trying to speak, hoping that if she allowed the fit to run its course, she might be able to get her point across before receiving an earful for proving the woman right about her reckless actions the night before. The rain and wind certainly hadn’t seemed so bad when she left the tavern’s warmth, but the walk home felt longer than ever as the heat was leeched from her body. She pounded on the center of her chest with one closed fist, hoping to loosen the phlegm she could feel clinging to the inside of her lungs and making every breath a battle, the mucus in her nose starting to leak out instead and making the whole situation that much worse. Before she could think to curse her luck, though, slim hands landed on her shoulders, guiding her to lay back down, the covers pulled up to her chin a moment later. From the brief contact, she could feel Weiss’ cool chi flow into her, just enough to settle her cough and give her much needed time to catch her breath, the cadence quick and labored. Still, she could at least breathe, so she turned a small, grateful smile to the woman now hovering at her bedside. “Thanks.”

“Oh, don’t thank me yet,” her wife said, blue eyes flashing with determination as her jaw set, the hard expression being directed at the warrior Queen promising no easy way out. “You are in no condition to do anything more than lay there and rest. Going out in a storm like that would’ve killed lesser people and I’ll not stand idly by while you work yourself to the bone trying to meet that end yourself.”

Yang opened her mouth to argue but paused. She couldn’t ignore her duties, true, but that didn’t mean she had to start a fight over it either. Another time, perhaps she’d press the issue and test which of them could be more stubborn, but at present she merely wanted to preserve the warmth she’d felt the night before when they laid down together, at peace with each other for the first time in far too long. The affirmation that she could one day hear the woman sing… she didn’t want to push her chances quite yet. “Would you be willing to help me?”

Clearly surprised- either at the lack of rebuttal or the offer, it was tough to say- her wife blinked for a moment before speaking, choosing her words carefully. “What, exactly, do you want help with?”

“The messengers who came yesterday; they need my help.” She sighed, wincing at the wheeze that replaced her normal exhale. “Well, two of them do, and a third requires our presence, but each is pressing. I need the maps from my study, a pen brush, a… lot of scrolls, and enough ink to write out my replies.” The blonde paused, drawing in a deep breath that nearly sent her into another coughing fit, her chest tightening once again. While Weiss’ touch had calmed her before, it hadn’t healed her nearly enough to take away the ache of congestion and the lethargy of her body requesting more sleep and sustenance to combat the illness certainly didn’t help matters in the least. Yet, she managed to offer a small smile, noting the worry on the Atlesian’s face. “I promise, I’ll do nothing but rest after I’ve figured out a way to help them.”

Weiss watched her for a moment, lips pressing into a thin line. “You’re eating breakfast first. Or lunch, whichever you prefer. After that, I’ll bring you whatever you need.”

“Deal.” Settling back against the headboard, Yang gave a passing thought as to her absent appetite before admitting defeat; food rarely seemed appealing when she was sick, and now proved to be the same, but her wife probably wouldn’t accept that explanation as a good enough reason to skip a meal. It seemed better to cede the fight and force down what she could rather than try and talk her way out of it. “It’s about lunchtime, right? What’s Dad cooking?”

“Stirred noodles, with chicken and vegetables, and a side of fried rice. He mentioned that it’s one of your favorite meals and we both thought you could use a pick-me-up considering your health.” Blue eyes darted away briefly, drawing Yang’s full attention. She could see how the Atlesian seemed torn between speaking more plainly and keeping her thoughts to herself, that age old habit she seemed reluctant to break but also put noticeable effort into doing so, like now. “Our cooking lessons have been quite… enlightening, recently. He’s told me more about your favorite foods than you have.”

“Well, he’s been our resident chef for a while now,” she replied, fighting back the tickle in her throat. Swallowing thickly- and handed a cup of warm milk tea that had likely been hot when it was first brought up- Yang fought to keep her cough under control, grimacing as she drew in a slow, steady breath. She found it a tad curious- cooking lessons with Dad, although it brought a smile to the blonde’s lips, hadn’t been something they’d talked about before- but kept that much in check for the time being, opting to address what other enlightening activities the two were getting up to while Yang attended to her duties. She’d hoped the two would get along despite past misgivings and this seemed to be a sign that they were doing just that, but she didn’t want the learning to be entirely one-sided. Perhaps Weiss could teach one of them how to make her favorite dishes from Atlas- but that would be something she’d have to address later. One thing at a time. “Lunch sounds delicious.”

“I’ll bring you some when it’s ready.” Weiss stood, straightening out her dress- this one was an older Valen style, with another robe beneath it, the cool blue hardly showing through the white outer robe- and then helped tuck the blonde in with quick, gentle tugs on the covers. “Would you like another blanket?”

“No.” She wanted to say more, to express her thanks, but she could feel the cough building in her chest and just waiting to burst forth. The last thing she wanted to do was cause the woman to worry further.

“Are you sure?” The skepticism in those blue eyes hinted that no amount of misdirection on the blonde’s part would dissuade Weiss but she tried anyway.

“Yep.” Yang smiled, silently proud she’d managed the single word without devolving into a coughing fit.

Although wary, her wife accepted her response and left the room, allowing the blonde to quickly grab one of the pillows to bury her face in, muffling the sounds as her lungs began the arduous task of breaking up the phlegm within. The last time she got sick like this was during the early days of the clan war, when she’d yet to master her chi and the fighting took them farther north on the mainland. The cold mountain air had nearly frozen her lungs, burning with every breath in a way that brought pain- nothing like the warmth of a fire or even the sometimes overbearing heat of summer. Back then, she’d tried using her chi to heal herself quickly and got even sicker for it; something about her inner fire simply wouldn’t cooperate when it came to illnesses like this.

“I can take an ax to the back and walk away without a scar, but a little cold and I’m suddenly invalid,” she said once the fit passed, wincing at the wet sound in her voice that promised more of the same if she continued pressing her luck. It helped, she thought, taking a moment to acknowledge the irony before turning her attention to the dire problems she needed to solve. Her body would take care of itself in time but she had an obligation to help her people when she could, especially when asked directly for assistance.

The matter of how to accomplish that remained to be seen, though; attending to everyone’s woes herself would be her default option, of course, but it also proved to be the least feasible- at least, as far as she could remember. Organizing the clans would take a bit of bartering on her part, too, seeing as many had their winter harvest coming up the same as Patch, but those who didn’t would likely have the hands to spare. Unless they had a festival devoted to the Winter Maiden pending, which would require extra help to call forth the blessings. She wouldn’t want to impede either event, partly because it would impact whoever remained behind and because those who volunteered to go would still worry after their family and friends back home. A distracted mind would be more help than none at all but she’d seen how a warrior driven to distraction made more mistakes; it wasn’t the ideal option and she’d prefer to avoid it if she could.

On top of all that, she also needed to visit the Fall Maiden’s temple with Weiss to receive their full divination from the Voice. Personally, she didn’t put too much stock in those old rituals, though she maintained a profound respect for the Voices and their duties. In bits and snatches, she could remember her younger days alongside Ruby, listening to Mom’s stories, the ancient legends that spawned each of the complex rituals carried out by everyone who followed the Maidens’ teachings. They’d listened intently, drinking up every word with starry eyes, and feigned sleep at the end of every tale, waiting until their parents went to bed before stirring. Then, the two little girls with dreams of adventure would trade excited whispers about the stories yet to be told, the ones that would chronicle their own journeys across Vale and spawn even more rituals for people to practice, the Voices lifting up their names in song as the Maidens bestowed their blessings. They would slay terrible monsters, rescue beleaguered villagers, and turn the tides of epic battles together to prove themselves worthy heroes in the Maidens’ eyes, with speeches given- often by Yang, holding her nose closed to affect a stranger tone- citing their mother and father as raising them to be such superb warriors. Her sister thought that, one day, she would triumph over an evil so great, she would become the tallest mountain in Vale, or a perpetually blooming cherry blossom tree, or be whisked away into the heavens to streak across the night sky as a shooting star. Yang wasn’t as ambitious with her aims; all she wanted was a song, an epic ballad sung from temple to tavern detailing her last grand battle, the one where she singlehandedly defeated Gelinlong- the horrible dragon that had put their ancient progenitor, Jianhuren, into his deep sleep.

In hindsight, she’d trade her crown and every ounce of ‘glory’ just to have her family back.

That was the part both of them had always somehow forgotten about whenever Mom told the stories, or when they read Ruby’s books. No one ever woke up and decided to go on an epic quest; something always happened to them. Their parents got sick, their sibling died, their spouse disappeared, their village was destroyed- no quest started out by someone just choosing to look for wrongs to right.

She really wish theirs had.

“Yang?” The blonde blinked, snapping out of her dreary trance as her wife started opening the door. Quickly, she reached up and scrubbed at her eyes, just to ensure she’d removed any evidence of tears beginning to form in them. Yesterday was exhausting enough; now that she was sick, she didn’t want to dedicate any more time to becoming mired in her own sorrows, especially not when others were depending on her. “Yang? Is something wrong?”

“Nothing,” she replied, forcing a smile even as she mentally lamented not being able to smell the delicious looking food laid out on the tray Weiss bore. Two full meals plus a steaming kettle; as much as she’d likely struggle through the small talk, she appreciated the company. Being left alone at present didn’t seem to be doing her any good. “That looks delicious.”

For a moment, her wife seemed more than a little skeptical, but she said nothing as she set the tray down across the blonde’s lap and went to fetch a chair for herself. The Atlesian pulled it up to the bedside, allowing them to both use the tray as they ate. Yang considered- briefly, very briefly- that it might be better to pretend she wasn’t hungry and wait for her wife to leave the room before trying, the hot steam from both food and drink threatening to send her into another coughing fit, but she really couldn’t bear it. She enjoyed Weiss’ company and, considering how rough the past few weeks had been, she wanted to take whatever opportunity she could to just… exist, side-by-side. No unspoken tension, no lingering doubts, nothing hidden between them- it was a nice feeling and she wanted to indulge just a bit more.

They began eating in silence, likely because she couldn’t fool the other woman in the slightest; she could probably tell that Yang was a hair’s breadth away from another coughing fit and opted to give her a chance to clear her lungs out through hot food and drink first. Idly, she mourned that she couldn’t properly taste it, because it would be nice to offer a compliment, she thought. An insincere one would do her no favors, though, and it instead opened up a different avenue for conversation.

“Do you-” She cut off, trying to clear her throat a bit before starting again. “Do you miss the food from back home?”

Weiss paused, her chopsticks halfway to her mouth before returning to her bowl as a thoughtful expression crossed her features. “Yes. Some times more than others, but I do.” She stirred the contents of her bowl, brows furrowing just slightly. Yang watched between mouthfuls, the congestion in her chest doing its best to distract her, but she remained focused. “Our spices are different. Valens use more chicken than pork. Rice rather than wheat. But I think I’ve adjusted rather well.”

The blonde frowned slightly, allowing a few more moments to pass where they simply ate before starting again. “You seem sad.”

“Perhaps a little.” Her wife looked up, a small smile on her lips. “I think, sometimes, that I’d like some apple wine or fried pork, or maybe one of our breakfast pastries with the fruit filling- they were some of my favorites.” She shrugged. “But… I never learned how to make them myself. I… know how to cook more Valen food than I ever thought to learn of Atlesian cuisine.” Returning her attention to the bowl in her hands, Weiss continued without a hint of duplicity in her voice. “However, I have no complaints about Valen meals or learning how to cook them. Your father is an excellent teacher.”

“He is,” she replied, offering a small grin when blue eyes darted her way. She allowed it to fall in the next moment, when the woman had looked away to grab a drink- warm milk tea, just like Yang. Mentally, she tried to count off the weeks until the next time Coco would stop by their small port. The Vacuon merchant would likely have an easier time acquiring items from Atlas than her Faunus counterpart, she reasoned, and would cut her a fair deal for the trouble. A few recipes and ingredients would warrant at least two more bags of rice and three bundles of wood in addition to the usual agreement but she’d make sure to handle that portion of the transaction herself. The last thing she wanted to do was overburden her people with her own whims; the moment her wife considered her fit to leave the bed, she would personally gather the resources herself. “I hope this cold passes swiftly. I wish I could taste this.”

“It’s… probably better you can’t.” Weiss’ brow twitched, a frown flashing across her lips. “I… may have added too much salt. Or not enough fen?”

Yang chuckled, regretting it almost immediately when she started to cough, raising her forearm to shield her face and doing her best not to upset the tray over her lap. About halfway through, her wife appeared at her side, rubbing her back and the cool bite of her chi appeared again, surging through cloth to sooth aching lungs. At this point, the constant coughing was more an annoyance than actual pain but it still threatened to sap her strength.

“Your cough will pass swiftly if you take care of yourself.” Blue eyes fell on her half empty bowls, humming softly. “We’ll make you soup or stew for dinner. That should be easier on your throat.”

“Have you gotten sick like this before?” She cleared her throat again, feeling the thick mucus sliding down the back of her throat and grabbing the tea to try and ease its passage with a long pull. “I’m- I’m usually healthy as an ox.”

That comment received a sharp look as Weiss warily made her way back to her seat. “You shouldn’t talk so much; it’s just going to make you cough more.” At the sheepish grin she received, her wife’s expression softened slightly. “I’ve gotten sick myself a few times, yes. Illnesses like this are common during this time of year in Atlas, but we’ve become well versed in overcoming them.” Her gaze hardened again. “Which is why I’ll allow no arguments until you’re back to your normal self. The last thing your people need is their queen bedridden for a month, or worse.”

Although she sincerely doubted things would get that bad- it wasn’t like Valens didn’t get sick, during the winter months especially- Yang nodded her acquiescence all the same. She hated being sick, so if her wife had experience in recovering quickly, who was she to argue?

They returned to their meal, the blonde pausing only to drink more of the soothing tea and pound her chest when the loosened phlegm became annoying. Weiss would occasionally lean over if she carried on too long, offering light touches to her shoulders, the soft bursts of cold chi creeping into her chest and calming the muscles. Before the warrior queen had finished her meal, though, she found herself full, her stomach unwilling to entertain the idea of finishing off the last few bites like she normally would. She apologized to Weiss- needlessly, she was assured, but she still felt bad about it- and the woman collected the tray, presumably heading to the kitchen. Some part of her felt even more guilty for that but she tried to remember that doing anything to help would get her more of a lecture than simply waiting until she was healthy to repay the favor.

It was only a little comforting.

When Weiss returned, she bore all the supplies the blonde had requested from the study, plus a fresh kettle with a different sort of tea this time that soothed the creeping sourness in her throat from coughing so much. The first thing she did, aside from taking a steadying gulp of the hot liquid, was grab the map from among the pile, unrolling it across her lap. Lilac eyes scanned across varied terrain and boundary markings, the characters for each of the ruling clans etched by a steady hand.

Ren had created it himself, in the months after his clan fell during the Xiao Long’s long march to unite Vale under a single clan’s rule. Every mountain and river, every fertile field and the fresh water lakes, and the thick borders separating clan lands- each marked with care and precision that she admired the man for and greatly respected. Very little had changed over the course of the past three years, thankfully, except a name or two as leading families were replaced. Ren’s family formerly ruled the southern lands at the base of the mountain range separating them from Vacuo, but his father had stepped down as the official leader to join the Valen defense against Atlas, not wanting divergent loyalties to erupt within the clan when he wasn’t there. Ren and his mother had followed, never the sort to be bogged down by status when the lives of others were on the line. When the Lie family returned to find their clan running smoothly, they refused to fight for their former position, content to act as proxies for Yang’s edicts now that she was the recognized Queen of Vale, and they’d served that purpose with utmost honor.

She wished Ren was here now and could somehow use his ink to redraw the physical world rather than simply replicate it onto a scroll. Fingers brushed along the space in the middle of the map, across marked forests and a lake and so much space, her shoulders falling in time with the whisper that left her lips.“How am I going to do this?”

“May I ask what the problem is?” Yang looked up, noting the genuine interest and concern in blue eyes as her wife drew closer.

“Two of the messengers from yesterday are from clans requesting my help,” she said, swallowing past the itch in her throat and the urge to growl out in frustration as she traced her fingers along the map. “One is here, on the east side of Dragon Tears Lake, and the other here, on the south side of Forever Fall. They’re about a three weeks’ ride from each other, and from here almost the same; I have to pick one to help first and by the time I get to the other…” She started coughing, covering her mouth again and grimacing as it passed. She put up a hand, trying to ease the concern in Weiss’ eyes. “I’m fine.” She sighed, shaking her head slowly. “Anyway, the Daichi clan is reporting strange beasts harassing their herds and circling their villages. Takes more than a full quiver of arrows to bring them down, or so it’s said. That should be my priority, but they’re supposedly holding the creatures at bay with fire. It’s wearing on them, though, and using up vital stocks. The Ming clan, on the other hand, is dealing with bandits of some sort. It’s a small group, but they’re stealing supplies, and with a potentially harsh winter about to bear down on us, that could be terrible. The clan leader would rather rout them, but they’ve made their hideout in Forever Fall. It’s sacred ground.”

“I’m not sure I understand.” The Atlesian furrowed her brows. “If it’s to protect people, does it really matter where these bandits are hiding?”

Yang ran a hand through her hair, suddenly noticing the texture. Despite their attempts to dry it the night before, it obviously wasn’t the same as when freshly washed, but she ignored the sensation for the moment. “Yes. Forever Fall is home to the Fall Maiden Temple; the clan leaders will not lead their people into the forest for the purpose of bloodshed.”

“And you’re somehow different?”

She nodded, and then sighed heavily. “On top of that, we’re both being called to the Fall Maiden Temple anyway. The Voice wishes to speak with us- nothing bad. It’s just… customary, after unions, to visit the officiator for another blessing.” There was more to it, of course, but she needed to drink more of the soothing tea before she could continue. “So, really, three places to be, and no matter what I do, I get the feeling it’ll be the wrong decision. If I take too many from Patch to ride with me, I put my home at risk. Dedicate to one and the other suffers.”

Her eyes scanned the map again, as if some secret lay within the rice paper to present a solution. Every hour she delayed, the fate of her people could be hanging in the balance.

“Four messengers, three requests…” Weiss spoke softly, as if presenting the option to the blonde whether or not to answer the unspoken question.

“The fourth…” She lifted her gaze, looking towards the door. “Just… let me know that Ruby’s still alive. She sends someone our way when she can.” The letter that the lone man had brought with him, tucked away beneath his orange cloak, lay somewhere in her clothing from the night before. He assured her that her sister was heading north as they spoke, but she couldn’t be so easily fooled; he hailed from the lands far to the south, and this was nothing more than a defense for her to deny anything her little sister might be doing near the Vacuon border. They rarely favored such subtle measures but both of them learned discretion as a matter of course after Yang took the crown. “She’s somewhere in the north. Nothing to be done about that.”

“That makes things marginally easier, then.” The other woman sat beside her on the bed, tracing along the map. “There are two pressing matters, and both of us are needed at the Fall Maiden Temple. It seems most prudent, then, for you to go aid the Ming in launching a counterattack against the bandits, and I can help the Daichi with these beasts of theirs. We can meet at the Temple after both tasks are complete.”

“No,” she said immediately, turning to look at the woman beside her. “It’s too dangerous. What if you get hurt? What if you get separated from the others and then lost?” More and more scenarios popped into her head, each worst than the last, until she could do nothing more than shake her head. “There had to be another way.”

Weiss seemed prepared for a negative rebuke but appeared surprised that it came from a place of worry and not pride, the tilt of her chin and defiance in her eyes shifting to a gentler expression. “I don’t think there is. I understand your concerns, Yang, but I won’t be alone, correct? I can see the task done or at least keep everyone calm until you arrive.”

The warrior queen opened her mouth to reiterate her objection but a sudden coughing fit seized her, stopping the words in her throat as she tried pounding on her chest. It did nothing, of course, except maybe vent some of her frustration, but a moment later Weiss’ touch was there at the base of her throat. The fit lasted a few more seconds, though it didn’t hurt as much as it probably ought to, and the blonde had to concede that her wife seemed to be learning how to utilize her chi more effectively than either of them thought possible.

At the same time, she wasn’t quite ready to be fighting bandits or beasts… but neither was Yang the first time she charged into battle, truth be told. They’d skipped the customary rite of passage due to the clan war and she came of age wiping blood from her brow on the battlefield. Half her life was spent fighting, or riding to a fight, or recovering from one, so it was nothing for her to ride off to yet another one even in the midst of peace. Her wife, on the other hand, grew up in relative safety, with high stone walls and tales of the battles but no true experience as part of them. Yet, Weiss was clever and determined, and she’d somehow kept Blake at bay, though the Faunus wasn’t truly trying… but of the two options, neither was a proper fight to begin with, so perhaps it didn’t matter. The bandits were clever, too, and the beasts strong; anything less and her assistance wouldn’t be needed. Two hard fights lay ahead… and she direly wished there was another way.

Briefly, she considered asking her father for help, but instantly dismissed it. The battle that had nearly claimed his life hadn’t robbed him of his strength entirely, but he would never fight again and they’d found that out the hard way. His chi wasn’t strong enough to protect him anymore, worn down to nothingness in order to save his life, and he only wielded his ax against trees ever since. Plus, with the harvest on the way, every hand that stayed behind would need to pull considerably more weight, and that was exactly the sort of strength he still possessed that Weiss certainly didn’t, though through no fault of her own. In time, it would come, but they didn’t have that at present.

When she could breathe easier, and after finishing off her cup and halfway through the next, she looked at the woman beside her. “Will you promise me you’ll be careful?” She tried to keep the quiver out of her tone but it was there, hinting at all the unspoken worries and concerns. “Retreat the moment things don’t work out. Just your presence may be enough to deter the worst. You don’t have to fight.”

The hand at her clavicle traced up, cupping her cheek softly. “I promise I’ll be careful.” She held her hand there long enough for Yang to lean into the contact before drawing away, taking the map out of the blonde’s lap and beginning to roll it up. “Whatever these beasts are, I’ll do my best to eradicate them.”

“No.” She settled back against the headboard, furrowing her brows slightly. “You’ll go deal with the bandits.” The warrior held up a hand, preempting the argument before it began. “These beasts are too strong to fight with a sword or spear. We have to bring them down or weaken them from afar before even trying up close. Can you shoot a bow?”

“Well… no.” Her wife quirked a brow. “You can?”

“Every Valen learns.” Yang took a deep breath, suddenly feeling weary. Now that the hot meal had settled in her stomach and she at least had a working theory of how to deal with the situation, it seemed her body was rather keen on getting more rest. She couldn’t give into the inclination, though; she still had too much work to do. “Sword, ax, staff, bow, fists- the five core disciplines. I can use a bow… I just don’t like it.”

There were better ways of articulating that, but it escaped the woman at the moment. It wasn’t easy, being locked in mortal combat with others, be they countrymen or foreigners, but being able to see the looks in their eyes, feel their strength matching hers; it made the fights easier to handle, easier to process, granting her the split second decision to take or spare a life just by pulling her punches a little or allowing her full weight to carry her through. Her dad tried to get her to take to the ax- or the staff arts, like Summer and Ruby- but she’d taken the route that suited her. It was for the best, to her mind.

“I suppose that makes sense.” Weiss made a thoughtful noise, looking over at Ember Celica resting peacefully on the dresser. She could see in the woman’s eyes the desire to prod further, ask more questions, but she refrained, instead walking over to the desk and setting down the map so she could bring over the necessary items to write out her responses. Even if she hadn’t gotten sick, the blonde would’ve sent word ahead of them that help would be on the way. She could only hope they wouldn’t arrive too late. “When you’re feeling better, maybe we can talk about that some more.”

“You want to learn?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she chuckled; of course the woman would. Not a single aspect of the blonde’s people or upbringing came up without the Atlesian trying to learn more, and doing an impressive job of it, too. “When we get back. Promise.”

Her wife gave her a small smile before her brows furrowed. “Are you certain no one will object to me entering…” she paused “… Forever Fall?”

“I’m sure.” She winced, trying to pass it off as just discomfort from her illness and not a flicker of doubt on her part. It made perfect sense to her, of course- she carried with her the blessings of the Maidens, or so her people believed, and her life was now entwined with Weiss’ as one- but the Ming clan had remained lukewarm on the topic of her marriage. They might be inclined to reject the woman’s presence once she arrived. “But if anyone gives you trouble, just go to the Temple and I’ll meet you there. Or just stage a defense.”

She’d meant it as honest advice but the flicker of annoyance that passed over her wife’s expression indicate it wasn’t received as such. “I’ll keep that in mind but I’m certain it won’t be necessary.”

“Me too,” she replied with a small, hesitant smile. “I know you can take care of some lowly bandits.”

“Of course I can. I’ve had excellent teachers.” Weiss watched her for a moment before taking back the scrolls and ink, setting them on the bedside table. “You can send out your replies later. Right now, you need to sleep.” The blonde tried to argue but found herself on the receiving end of a forceful glare. “You’re tired, are you not?” She nodded. “It’s your body telling you to rest. Listening will do you and your people more good in the long run.”

“Okay.” Shuffling down slightly, Yang let out a sigh while her eyes slid closed, apparently keen on obeying the woman’s suggestions. “But… just a nap.”

She heard soft footfalls by the door, too heavy to belong to Weiss and their owner revealed himself a few moments later. “How long do colds like this one usually last?”

“Just a few days. If she rests well and doesn’t waste her energy arguing with me.” Yang’s lips twitched into a soft smile, amused by the light teasing the words implied. Even if the whole series of events brought her to this moment of bedridden, annoying agony, it seemed her wife had finally become more comfortable here, enough to return to taking light jabs at each other and earn her a gentle kiss to her forehead. She kept her eyes closed and they seemed content to lower their voices while exiting the room, leaving her to her illness induced slumber.

“Hmmm… I guess there’s no helping it.” The man sighed, heading back out of the room. “We were supposed to start gathering firewood from the north side of the forest today.”

Her brows furrowed. Damnit, he was right; on top of everything else, they still had to gather as much wood to start the tedious process of drying it out before the weather worsened. With winter on the horizon, she’d hate for a shortage to lead to long, cold nights for the residents of Patch.

“Perhaps I can assist you?” Weiss offered, seeming rather confident. “I’ve little experience with an ax, but there surely must be something I can do to assist.”

Forcing her eyes open, Yang started to sit up just as the door closed, the two stepping out into the hall. She almost called out- because like hell her wife was going to spend hours hauling wood thanks to an inconvenient cold- but her father’s thoughtful hum stopped her.

“Now that you mention it, I think we can work something out,” he said with a chuckle. “Go grab a snack from the kitchen and meet me by the door.” Yang had almost sat up when the door opened again, her father peeking his head in with a smile. “Thought that’d get your attention. Don’t worry, I’m not going to take her into the forest.”

“You know she’d do it.” She coughed to clear her throat, grimacing slightly while swallowing down a mouthful of phlegm. “Weiss would find a way.”

“I know, and that’s why I’m going to take her into town.” His eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. “I think it’s about time she met Grandmother.” Yang’s shoulders slumped, mouth opening to object as another coughing fit seized her. Her father chuckled, amused by her concern. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. Get some rest, little dragon; you deserve it.”

“But- wait- stop!” Despite her attempts, she ultimately failed to articulate anything remotely convincing to stop Taiyang before he slipped back out of the room, the sound of the front door echoing up to the second floor. Bonelessly, she collapsed back against the bed, focusing on clearing her throat enough to breathe while running a hand over her face.

Silently, she begged the Winter Maiden to give her wife patience… and Jianhuren to protect anyone foolish enough to try and mediate the impending battle of wills. It might be an empty gesture but it was all she could do, aside from closing her eyes and reaching deep within herself to stoke her chi into hurrying her recovery process.

#TRR writes #Freezerburn Arranged Marriage AU #Queens of Vale fanfic #TRR asks #Freezerburn

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