#have someone watch over them or find some way to offset any possible damage
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You said in tags once that pedophiles and child predators aren't the same, can you explain why? /GEN
For the same reason that people with any kind of attraction to anyone ever aren't all rapists/don't all pursue romantic/sexual feelings that could or definitely would hurt the other person. Because paraphilias are simply the morally neutral state of experiencing attraction and rape/grooming is Not That. Because people *choose* to hurt others, but not what they feel. Because a good majority of child sexual abusers aren't even pathologically/paraphilically attracted to children, they *just want to hurt them because they can.* Because they're dissatisfied with something in life, or want a punching bag, or want to feel powerful, etc etc.
It's not really different conceptually from physical abuse. Do people do it because they have icky feelings about liking blood or violence? No. They do it to feel powerful. Sexual abuse is not about sex but about power. Hope this answers your question. I've answered it a good million times on this blog but eh I'm in a generous mood.
#anon response#pro para#girl imagine if ppl blamed randomass sadists for me getting beat up as a kid#like. no. thats not how that works. if they got off on hurting me in a literal sense they mightve been a little nicer ab it.#honestly its just flat out offensive to equate thoughts and feelings with abuse#regardless of someone's pathology you can always choose to do good and always choose to do evil#what you do with that ability is up to you. but rather than focusing consequences on random 'freaks' maybe focus them on#'normal people' who decide to covertly abuse their kids. or the priest who got tired of being godly and did some fucked shit#it is not the freaks you should fear but those who put on a face of normalcy while treating others like garbage and hurting people#also mostly those that are self aware know how to Be Good so to speak and im saying this broadly ab all 'dangerous' thoughts#ppl who know they can get triggered into violence will usually avoid sais triggers. ppl who spiral out of control during an episode will#have someone watch over them or find some way to offset any possible damage#even for people in whom some sort of harm is an instinctive reaction and not a conscious decision#steps can be should be and are taken to minimize problems and recover from anything that needs it#i trust a big 3 paraphile easier than an unstable person in power with no self awareness#because ive met both and only one has ever seriously hurt me. guess.
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i dunno if requests are still open but if they are, could i request this? if not, feel free to delete! but in case they are open here's the request: jean, beidou, and ganyu reacting to accidentally hurting their s/o? it could be anything from simple slap in the face while turning around or hurting them with their vision/weapon :]
Accidents
(ouchie -- having them accidentally hurt the reader T.T -- they didn’t mean too!)
Warning -> SFW, accidental injury (Character -> Reader)(face injury (Jean)), (meantions of cuts to face / arms (Ganyu)), (hit by rope (Beidou))
Character X GN Reader | Anthology
Includes: Beidou, Jean, Ganyu
Beidou
She takes pride in keeping everyone on her crew safe, no matter the danger - on sea or land, she will fight and guard each person in her charge -- you are no exception and in fact, you are probably the one she fights the hardest for. The thought of seeing you hurt doesn’t sit well with her and, if she can control it, she’d never let it happen
How could she have known that she’d be the one to cause you discomfort -- that she’d end up allowing you to get hurt because she let something slip through her fingers … pride was a strong emotion, but guilt could send a pirate to the bottom of the ocean
The weather had made a sudden turn for the worst. Dark clouds rolled overhead as the crew furled the sales to protect them from the downpour that was bound to arrive any second now.
“Captain!” Beidou’s attention shifted to the crow's nest, her scout pointing violently toward a massive cumulus cloud in the distance. She knew it was bound to smash right them if they maintained this heading, so in an effort to avoid it, she ran toward the bow barking orders.
“Tack to starboard! Finnick,” She turned to point at the several crew waiting on the foredeck, “raise the spinnaker, now.” They quickly bustled to their jobs while she found herself at the head of the boat. Her arms crossed as she oversaw the work of her crew; great pride swelling in her chest to see how organized they were even without her voice like a well-oiled machine everyone did their part.
As the creaking boat turned, heading parallel now to the storm, Beidou hoped that it would stay on its heading so the Crux wouldn’t have to bear the brunt of its onslaught. It was now a waiting game, but if she knew anything about the ocean - it would be a win for her today.
Just then, a rope tying one of the many large sails snapped. Its reaction was like a domino effect and soon all hands were rushing to stop a potentially catastrophic outcome. Leaping over the railing, she landed hard onto the deck below, her feet finding solid ground long enough for her to push forward and, before the other crew had a chance to react, she was already climbing the mainmast as if it were a simple tree. It took her no time at all to reach the issue but the strong winds continued to whip around the ropes below her and by the time she managed to capture them - her eyes fell onto your frame.
In terrible slow motion, she watched as you reached for the rope only to have it collide into your chest and knock you back into another crew member. Her heart sank, her arms burned, her determination steadfast as she made quick work of the problem before dropping back down to you.
“Are you alright?” Someone called, their hands reaching to you as if to offer some assistance but Beidou knocked them away. Orders were told, tasks were assigned, and before you could object, she carried you into her quarters.
When the door closed and she sat you on her bed, you could already tell how upset she was. “Beidou -- it was an accident, I didn’t have good footing and …” She uncrossed your arms, you didn’t even realize that you were holding onto your chest. Carefully peeling back your tunic, she noticed the welt that was starting to grow in the area below your collarbone. With a huff, she walked away before returning with a cloth. “You’re being silly, it’s not that ba-AD!” You shouted, the cold material shocking you as it came into contact with your burning injury.
“This could have been much worse. You’re lucky it only bruised the surface.” Sitting next to you, she rested her knee near your lower back, and the warmth of her leg as she moved close to you somehow offset the ice on your chest.
“I’m just upset I didn’t grab it, it was right there and then … ah - that’s sore.” She tested your shoulder, pushing against it with her palm and shaking her head at the notion that you were going to have a painful recovery.
“You are a member of this crew and I have sworn an oath to protect you, but …” Her head dropped and she found it hard to continue. 'How could I let this happen' was written all over her expression.
“Hey, it wasn’t your fault. You’re an excellent captain.”
“A captain keeps her ship on course, its belly full, and its crew happy. How can I do that when my happiness is your wellbeing?” Her fingers ran over your ear, slipping in between the locks of your hair as if to show you how much she cherished you. Carefully, she leaned toward you, her lips connecting softly onto your shoulder as they trailed a path to your injury and even in the numbness of it you were still able to feel the heat from her love. “If you are ever out of your depth, allow me to be your lifeline.”
“Of course, as long as you trust me to know when I'm there.”
“Within reason.” As the boat rocked on the sea and the sky rumbled far into the distance, you captured the steady heart of the captain.
Jean
Jean would never intentionally harm you, the thought of putting someone innocent in danger makes her sick - as the acting Grandmaster she has a sworn duty to protect everyone around her from those who would do them harm
So when she's the one who caused your injury, she's beside herself with regret
She stood in her office, her back to the door as she let her mind wander on all the things that needed to be done. It was never-ending, and while she was always fulfilled by the products of her work, she often pushed herself so far that her body and mind became clouded.
Today was one of those days. The work, planning, problem-solving was weighing on her. There is never enough time, she thought to herself as she rested her head in her hand and squeezed tighter around her rib cage. She was distracted, so exhausted that her ears felt blocked, her body swayed even though she knew she wasn't moving, and her head throbbed.
"Jean ..." What needed to be done first, she pinched her nose and through harder. "Jean?" She sighed and attempted to stop the voices in her head.
"Jean, hey?" A hand touched her arm and in her daze, she turned suddenly. Her hand was further from her face than she expected and with a solid smack, she hit something.
"Ah!" Your startled voice shook her back to understanding, your expression and hand now covering your face sent her heart in the pit of her stomach.
"Y/N? I'm so sorry ..." She rested her hand on your arm and shakily reached for your face, her fingers tenderly touching the ones that hid you from her pained eyes. "I didn't -- are you badly hurt?"
"Ouch, you got me really good." You explained, scrunching and circling your nose but allowing her to take your hand.
"My mind was elsewhere, I am ... I'm sorry." She ran her hands over your face, the warm feeling of wind slipping from her fingers and soon your expression eased.
"Thanks, It was an accident, don't worry."
"An accident like this should have never occurred, it is unbecoming of me to allow myself to falter." She stepped away from you, afraid that any prolonged contact would make it worse.
"Jean, you're allowed to make mistakes, and look - I'm fine, see." You grinned proudly but she couldn't let it go.
"I need to make amends."
"Mmm, well then, I have an idea."
"What is it?" She looked at you hopeful, her eyes watching you as you stepped closer.
"I'll take a kiss as an apology." You tapped the side of your cheek and presented it to her.
With hesitating hands, she rested her fingers on the other side of your cheek and let her lips touch the skin she hurt, "I will be more observant in the future."
You turned your head, your face so close you could feel her breath, "I don't see how that's possible, but if it means I get to have more of your attention, I'll be okay with that."
You kissed her and wondered if she was able to heal through her lips.
Ganyu
The absolute sweetest soul in all of Teyvat. She cares deeply for all things, works hard to get the job done, and is dedicated in her actions - it's one reason why her contract with Rex Lapis was drafted; she is the epitome of ____
She would never maliciously hurt those around her and often puts herself in harm's way to keep others safe
To her, causing harm to someone she adores, loves, cherishes would be as severe as breaking her contract
The two of you ran through the field, your legs burning as you dashed across the landscape and away from your persistent pursuers.
"Ganyu! Up ahead!" You shouted, pointing to the higher ground and dashing in that direction. She followed, keeping an eye out on the enemies behind. To buy some time, she laid down her tantalizing cryo flower before picking up her pace to reach you.
"From here we can handle them more easily, just be ready." She nodded her head and pulled back her bow, ready to strike.
The fight was far more doable in this arena, each enemy falling one after another as the two of you fought in perfect sync. Charging her shot, she saw the ideal opportunity to hit multiple targets at once, but as soon as her arrow flew so did you.
"Y/N!" She shouted but you were too far away and, as soon as you reached them, prepping your sword for a swing, the arrow exploded hitting everything in its path. You yelled, sliding on the ground only to slam hard into the dusty surface. In an instant, everything that Ganyu was, and wasn't, aiming for fell.
Rushing forward, she reached you and quickly assessed your condition. Her hands hovering, her eyes scanning only to find the damage she had caused. Several small cuts appeared on your face, your arms were equally damaged and the despair that filled her was so great she prostrated herself before you. Her head resting on your hips as she bowed deeply.
"Ga-Ganyu? What are you doing?" You asked, setting your sword to the side as you looked down at her.
"I hurt you, please forgive me." You tried to pull her up but she shook her head and dug in deeper into her display.
"It was an accident, I wasn't looking and that was a good shot. I'm not hurt."
"You are!" She shot up, her eyes looking at the marks that she had created on your skin. "It was my fault that you have -- if-if they leave a scar ... I ..." She shook her head, unable to finish her thought.
"Ganyu ... they won't leave a scar, and even if they did, don't you think I'd look super cool?" You smiled but she hated it.
"It's not acceptable ... if you'd like to d-dismantle our contract, I understa-"
You wrapped your arms around her, squeezing tightly as you spoke. "I don't want that, I'd never want that. I need you, please don't ever think I'd be okay if you weren't at my side." After a moment, she returned the gesture and you felt the pressure of her nose dig into your neck. When she finally pulled away, you let your hands slide down her arms and rest into her delicate hands.
"I'll just have to practice harder." She nodded fiercely as she helped you stand up.
"If you insist." You laughed, thinking to yourself when she would ever find the time to do that.
--
tag list:
@clemmywrites @sufzku @plenilunegazes @lucacandy @marianadibenea @nonniechan @jaemjenjam @softlybeloved @excitedlysuffering
#genshin impact#genshin impact X reader#genshin impact headcanons#genshin impact musings#genshin impact fiction#genshin impact ganyu#ganyu#ganyu x reader#jean#genshin jean#jean x reader#beidou#genshin beidou#beidou x reader
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Welcome to Hell
So happy Valentine’s Day @satanic-starker I wrote you a thing.
This was written in the very late/early insomnia hours so expect something a little messed up.
Trigger warnings for non-con, demon sex, maybe gore and devil worship if you squint?
Peter realised now that he had been closed-minded when he had imagined Hell. He didn’t really know what he had expected, a cell filled with torture devices? His worst nightmares on loop? But the reality was so much worse and so much better than anything he could have imagined.
The underworld was a place of extremes, the pain was extreme, especially since his body seems to slowly repair regardless of how much damage he took, yet the pleasure was somehow even more overwhelming. A land of vast canyons leading up to complete darkness, it was lit by a strange glow that seemed to come from nowhere. There were many dark corners although all seemed to inhabited by small biting creatures. When Peter first found himself in Hell he had sought out these dark corners intending to get some rest. Each time he woke up with his fingers and toes gnawed to the bone, his nose and ears and cock chewed completely off, soon he abandoned the idea of sleep altogether. Naturally, without sleeping Peter started to lose his mind. This was dangerous down here, between demons and the other dark creatures that inhabited the plane and the humans that had been sent there for a variety of sins, The underworld was not a safe place for someone as pretty as Peter.
Peter learnt this the hard way when he found himself cornered by a demon. Peter felt like he had been followed so had been wandering for lord knows how long, trying to escape this feeling if being pursued. Eventually he made a wrong turn, ducking into an alcove that lead to nowhere else. His pursuer appeared, standing maybe half a foot taller than Peter the demon’s large frame and round belly was covered in dark hair. As the creature stalked towards peter it’s cock started to thicken and rise, revealing a thick horizontal bar pierced through the base, matching those through its nipples.
Despite its prominent erection, the demon didn’t seem interested in sex, instead grabbing Peter’s chin in a clawed hand and pinning him against a wall, Peter has to stretch to keep contact with the ground. The razor-sharp thumbnail of its other hand came up to split peter right across the clavicle. The creature’s mouth broke into something that resembled a grin at Peter’s choked shriek, continuing to create deep gashes across the boy’s torso. Peter screamed and writhed in the demon’s grip, slippery with sweat and blood he fell to the floor, curling into a ball to protect his midsection from the creature’s claws. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise when the creature thrust into him, slick only with Peter’s blood he could feel his insides tear. The intense burn as it thrust its huge member into him offset the searing pain of the dozen gashes splitting open his front. The demon gripped his biceps and thrust brutally, Peter passed out altogether when the beast pulled hard enough to tear his arms out of their sockets.
This is how Peter found himself waking up in an alcove, covered in blood and demon cum. Even with his wounds still healing he felt more well-rested than he in ages. So it became a habit, when Peter found himself delirious from lack of sleep he would play the bait, luring a demon to do enough damage that he would blackout, waking up with a clear mind and a throbbing hardon. Technically sex didn’t need to be a part of it but he was yet to find a demon that didn’t want to use his body. Soon Peter couldn’t get off without the pain or the thrill or the fear. Despite his efforts, he could only cum when he was stretched over a massive demon’s dick.
A young human fucking his way through the ranks of his demons? This caught the attention of the Lord of the Underworld. Tony’s attention was captured further when he discovered how beautiful the boy was, small but toned his pale skin practically glowed in the hell-light. Brown curls adorned his head, a smattering of freckles and large brown eyes gave an illusion of innocence but if he had made his way here, and with his reputation in hell, he was far from innocent. Tony decided he needed the experience the boy himself so he reached out with his power until he found the boy and compelled him to come towards his chambers.
Peter didn’t know what came across him but suddenly he had a purpose, he must make his way to the Lord of Hell. He didn’t know what to expect, the demons didn’t talk in this place, but as Peter travelled towards the great cavern in the distance he was cursed with a persistent erection, overcome with fantasies of being filled up and torn apart by The Lord of the Underworld. By the time Peter reached the entrance to The Dark Lord’s chambers he was desperate, his erection throbbing.
Peter’s expectations for the Lord of Hell had also been an underestimation, as soon as he saw him lounging comfortably in a large leather-bound chair Peter was enthralled. The devil’s chamber was smaller than Peter had expected, warmly lit in contrast to the cool glow of the rest of the underworld and a comfortable temperature, Peter hadn’t realised that he had become accustomed to the extreme temperatures of the underworld, the sticky humidity that was only ever replaced by biting cold. This chamber was decorated with a variety of oddities but Peter only had eyes for his lord, kneeling on the skin rug before him.
As he stood Peter had never seen someone so enrapturing. Standing near 7 foot tall and bulky with muscle Peter only came to mid-thigh where he knelt. He was the first being that Peter had encountered in hell wearing clothes, chunky boots and leather pants that stretched tightly over his muscled thighs. Peter’s mouth watered as he eyed toned abs, and large chest, tanned and covered with a fine layer of dark hair. When he was finally able to tear his gaze up from the most mouth-watering body he had ever seen he found the dark lord smirking down at him, eyes twinkling with dark interest.
Tony stroked his goatee and circled the boy, still obediently knelt before him. He had the ability to compel others to do whatever he willed but he was curious about this boys own sexual appetite. Tony stopped in front of him reaching down to run his sharpened nails up the boy’s back. Blood welled along the scratches and the boy let out a pained whine but arched his back into the touch and his hard cock bobbed, the tip glistening with pre-cum.
Tony returned to his chair, opening his pants and pulling out his soft cock. He chuckled to himself when the boy looked up at him expectantly, licking his soft plump lips. Considering the boy’s straining erection and aroused flush when Tony gestured for the boy to come towards him he expected him to go straight for his exposed cock, so he was surprised when he instead crawled forward and kissed his shoe.
Peter was mezmerised by the god-like body in front of him. As much as he was eager to get his lips around the thick uncut cock he couldn’t remember ever feeling as comfortable as he felt knelt at The Dark Lord’s feet. Trying to express this he leant forward and kissed the hard leather of his shoe, looking up for affirmation before continuing, massaging calves so thick that his hands looked like a child’s in comparison. The leather of his pants was soft in contrast with the hard leather of his boots, Peter kissed those too, rubbing his cheek on The Dark Lord’s knee and kissing his way up to the most beautiful cock he had ever seen. Peter should have been intimidated by the size, even soft it was longer than his hand, but he couldn’t wait to feel it stretch him open, could only hope that The Dark Lord would let him fuck himself on his glorious cock.
Peter held it with both hands, exploring the foreskin with his tongue before taking it into his mouth and sucking gently. The Dark Lord’s cock started to fill as he kissed his way down to the base and licked back up so Peter sucked the tip into his mouth again, massaging the shaft. Continuing to stroke the enormous cock, his fingers not even able to circle around it, Peter sucks on one of his balls then the other, taking his time massaging them with his tongue. He mouthed his way up, doing his best to wet the Dark Lord’s cock with his saliva, before taking it into his mouth and doing down as far as possible. Peter chocked and spluttered when he tried to take too much, he could only hope that The Dark Lord would fuck his throat because there was no way he would be able to deepthroat this enormous erection without force. It seemed for now however that he was letting Peter take the lead so he alternated between massaging his frenulum with his tongue and grinding the head on the roof of his mouth as he stroked the length with one hand and massaged his balls with the other. When he had to come up for air, twirling the tip of The Dark Lord’s erection with tongue, he caught his eyes, that curious glint still challenging him, as if to wonder what Peter would do next.
Peter wanted to see how much he would allow so he released the cock with a wet pop and climbed onto The Dark Lord’s lap, sinking down on his erection with a deep groan. A harsh breath was the only sign that he was affected at all by the boy in his cock but the amused smirk returned so Peter began to fuck himself on the huge erection, grinding down and chasing his own pleasure. Even when Peter began to stroke his own cock he couldn’t get close, he had gotten so accustomed to the pain and brutality of demon sex, so he took The Dark Lord’s hands and put one on his throat and the other on his hip, hoping that he would understand what he needed.
Tony laughed internally, seeing the boy so desperately trying to get off but not finding any release. The boy looked amazing riding his cock, face determined a sheen of sweat covered his soft pale skin. He could watch that tight muscled ass grind down on his cock for hours but when the boy arranged his hands on his body he decided to give some kind of mercy. The boy cried out when Tony thrust into him with full force, the hand tight on his throat leaving him nowhere to move. Tony could see his cock bulging through the boy’s flat stomach, thrusting again and again to watch how deep he was penetrating. As the boy started to claw at his hand Tony realised he was struggling for air so with morbid curiosity instead of releasing his throat he thrust in hard and used his claws to puncture the boy’s throat and create need gashes accross his butt and thigh. As he had hoped, the boy climaxed even as he blacked out from the pain, cum streaking over Tony’s stomach and ass convulsing around Tony’s cock, drawing out Tony’s own orgasm deep inside the boy.
It was at this point that Tony knew for sure that he was keeping the boy.
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Wilds
Ships: Taevas Sinine [F!Guardian]/Suraya Hawthorne, Background Cayde-6/Zavala, Background Devrim Kay/Marc, Mentioned Amanda Holliday/Sloane
Characters: Cayde-6, Zavala, Taevas Sinine, Devrim Kay, Marc, Ikora Rey, Amanda Holliday, Suraya Hawthorne, Louis [...]
Other tags: Through the Red War, Developing Relationship, Selectively Mute Guardian, Long-fic [...]
Description: Suraya has never liked the Guardians, or any of the upper city-folk for that matter. Too pretentious, too conceited. Too ignorant of people's suffering.
But maybe this one can be an exception.
i;
Hawthorne watches the scene before her with an unusual sense of detachment. Louis had flown off a while back, and his vacancy is a nagging thought in the back of her brain – any time when they are separated brings plenty of anxiety. Supplies are being loaded onto a variety of mismatched ships, the only ones she’d managed to scrounge up at such short notice, by some of her out-of-City contacts (and in-City ones, too).
Her reverie is broken out of by Louis’ loud, shrill call. He circles overhead, landing on her gauntlet and looking up at her expectantly, before taking off again.
She slings her rifle over her shoulder, looking over at Dev and gesturing towards Louis, and he nods, understanding her thoughts. Heading off towards the mountains she follows his occasional call, to a figure collapsed on the floor under a cliff. They’re dressed in black, light armour, a cape over their shoulder and a pistol on their hip, all damaged and burnt. A small robot that she recognises as one of those Guardian Ghosts flickers around them, scanning them and occasionally making them glow.
A Guardian, she realises.
They come to as she reaches them, and looks up at her. “Things must be really bad if someone’s leaving a perfectly good Guardian around”. She says with a criticising, appraising stare, and holds out her hand.
They take it and she gets a closer look at them. Through the cracks in their helmet Hawthorne can see their – her – face; light blue skin, orange eyes and thin black markings. “You fly-worthy?” She nods, and Suraya gestures behind her with a move of her head. “Then let’s get these people somewhere safe.”
Walking away, the Guardian follows, and her Ghost speaks up after a few moments. “Erhm, what’s your name?” Another appraising look is sent towards the little robot.
“Hawthorne. Suraya Hawthorne.” Her gaze turns to the Guardian. “And you?”
Instead, the Ghost speaks. “She’s Taevas Sinine. And I’m Unelema, her Ghost. It’s – err – nice to meet you?”
She’d question why the Guardian – Sinine, whatever – didn’t respond herself, but there are more pressing matters. “Follow me.” She replies. “We need to get out of here before the Legion spreads properly. I suppose you can make yourself useful.”
When she returns to the group, plus one Guardian, Dev sends her a questioning glance which she answers with a shrug, and she assigns the mystery-Guardian to a ship and three personnel.
The Guardian takes easily to the task, hauling crates of supplies to various cargo holds while her Ghost flutters nervously over her shoulders, murmuring about unhealed damage and advising her against straining her injuries. From what she overhears, the Guardian apparently sustained significant injuries in the City-Fall, and Suraya notices them herself – the occasional wince, the way she avoids putting weight on her left leg, the giant tear in her armour across her stomach where torn-open flesh is revealed.
Suraya finds herself at least admitting that the Guardian is honourable, to be straining herself so hard against what is obviously very major injuries, but she’s held back from warming up to the soldier by her past experiences with her ilk. In the very least, she thinks, it’ll be useful to have someone with actual combat experience where they’re going.
ii;
The Guardian, she finds, is incredibly quiet. Silent, even.
When they arrive at the Farm, as she’s already decided to name it, it’s the Guardian’s Ghost that does all the talking for his partner. It’s him that notices the Shard and tells the Guardian, him that insists to Hawthorne that they must go to the Shard, and it’s him that argues with her when she discourages him.
“The Shard is a place of death.” She warns him, and it’s true. Years back, when Dev had finally accepted that she was truly leaving the City, he’d warned her that the Shard of the Traveler is the one place that she must not go. And she’s heeded that advice. After all, it’s been poisoning the area around it for centuries, turning the place into the aptly named Dark Forest.
“You don’t understand –“ He tells her, shell whirring when she affixes him with a look of ‘try me’. “We’re being led there like we were led to you. There’s something there that the Traveler wants us to find, and it’s never led us astray before.”
She almost makes a remark about the state of Humanity and the City, but holds back when she notices the Guardian watching them from across the Farm. As the Guardian starts approaching, the Ghost heads off towards her, nudging tiredly against the side of his partner’s helmet.
“So,” she starts, turning to face them. “your Ghost told me that you’re thinking of going to visit the Shard.” The Ghost and Guardian share a look and the latter nods. “I’d advise you against it, but I presume you won’t listen, considering your Ghost doesn’t. Oh well,” She shrugs. “I know a lot about following your gut, same as Louis.”
Louis shifts at the mention of his name, and she smiles a little. “Take the Wanderwing, the ship you came here on… Least it’ll get you back quick.”
The Guardian turns to leave, and Hawthorne feels the need to speak her mind for some stupid reason. “I haven’t lost anyone yet. Don’t you be my first.” She turns out to watch the Wilds and she can feel the eyes focused on the back of her head for a few moments before they’re gone.
She watches as the Guardian heads towards the ship, and soon her Ghost’s voice kicks through on the comms. She does her best to dissuade them still, but her continued warnings fall on deaf ears as they head towards possibly the one place in the Dead Zone that she hasn’t explored.
Suddenly, the comms cut out to static, and she curses. Whatever’s happening out there, she won’t know until the Guardian returns – if she returns.
--
The evening gives way into the night, and the usual hustle of the Farm quietens down to the Zone’s background ambience and the occasional rustle of a tarp or quiet murmuring of a conversation. Louis butts his head against her palm as she absent-mindedly pets him, her brain still actively focusing on Sinine’s absence.
She knows she shouldn’t worry over the Guardian. Even Lightless as she knows her to be, she can still hold her ground, years of combat training and experience likely still effective in these less than ideal conditions. However, she hadn’t lied when she’d told the Guardian to not be her first loss. While she’d never claim a duty of care over a Guardian, essentially an immortal space warrior, Sinine is still a Farm citizen now. She’s one of Hawthorne’s people now. And if there’s one thing she can do well, it’s worry over the safety of her people.
Biting her lip, she gathers up the various reports and documents scattered across the table in front of her and leaves them in a slightly more organised pile, before leaving the barn temporarily acting as a command centre. She scales the outer walls to the broken roof and flattens herself against the uneven surface until she feels at least a little secure.
Suraya turns to the dark star-filled sky and sighs, eyes closing as a cold breeze carries the edges of her poncho into the air. All the anxieties she manages to suppress under her daytime responsibilities come to the surface of her mind now, and she finds herself unable to do much to get them away.
It isn’t just Sinine’s radio silence that has her on edge: the past day has been nothing but a whirlwind of surprises, and she’s still not sure whether any of those surprises are positive. She had gone from a regular drop of stolen supplies to suddenly leading what can only be described as a resistance – the last survival effort that’s been made as far as they know, and this sudden and unexpected escalation isn’t exactly great for her mental state.
She’s almost always avoided people after her “self-imposed” exile, and to an extent before then, for what she believes to be a good reason. Most people were good-natured, knowing that communal strength and prosperity drastically outweighs what one can achieve on their own, but her distrust mainly stems from her experiences with the upper echelons of civilised society.
Her history with Hideo is probably the most glaring of examples, but her disgust at the disconnect of the elite - of their greed and damage and subjacatory nature – was built up over years and years of her childhood. Even the arrival of Dev and Marc in her life and the unconditional love and support they provided her with did little to offset the horrors she’d seen.
So here, surrounded by people, she’s justifiably on edge. Not that she doesn’t feel the need to protect these people – none of them are Hideo or any of the Factionites for one, and next to none of them would be able to survive out there in the dead-zone, her heartland, but the constant presence of anything other than Louis, her rifle and the Wilds is something that will probably take some time to adjust to.
Her thoughts are once again interrupted by the loud whirring of a ship’s engine. She’s not expecting any new arrivals, especially not at this late hour, but she glances up regardless, expecting to see a typical freighter or cargo ship.
Instead, it’s the Wanderwing, the ship she gave to the Guardian for her stint out to the Shard. She tries to tell herself it’s instinct, or perhaps surprise that she actually survived, that forces her body upright so quickly that she almost topples off the roof entirely. She scales down the barn’s walls to reach the Guardian, and she seems different when Suraya reaches her.
She’s as silent as ever, sure, but Hawthorne swears that there’s an ever-so-slight glow to her body, and the slump of fatigue she’d worn like a cloak since they met is entirely gone. Her Ghost flies excitedly around her shoulders, chatting endlessly and with increasing speed about how ‘alive he feels’, and how ‘amazing this is’, and Suraya comes to a sudden realisation when the Guardian notices her and lifts her helmet off for the first time.
“You got your Light back.”
iii;
Hawthorne had never truly intended to involve the Guardian – Sinine – in the Farm’s management, but in retrospect, it would be difficult to exclude her. The transition of Sinine only running missions to being one of the leading figures at the Farm was a rather organic and inevitable process, more so than Suraya had expected, though it was obvious that her presence inspired, and continues to inspire, hope in the people of the Farm.
However natural the process has been, Suraya still hates it.
It took her weeks to earn the level of respect that Sinine had acquired almost instantly, through various leadership challenges, questions about her ability and biting comments about her character, while the Guardian just rolled up and people instantly respected her, despite her and her kind’s monumental failure at City-fall. The refugees look to the Guardian with a sort of inherent respect and deference, trusting her with their lives.
Suraya doesn’t blame Sinine, really – she’s made no move to claim more power or responsibility than she is given and seems perfectly happy to take orders from both her and Devrim, yet she can’t help but be angry. And as the logical part of her brain absolves Sinine from any wrongdoing, Suraya aims her anger inward.
After all, who can fault the people of the City for not wanting her as a leader? She’s an outcast, criminal, exile. She’s the opposite of Sinine – hero, protector, saviour. Guardians, and the Guardian, in particular, represent hope and protection for the people, and in comparison, she sees herself to be nothing more than a child wearing shoes far too big for her.
Before she can stew on her insecurities for too long, however, the source of her anxieties transmatts into the Farm’s main plaza below. Suraya watches with tired eyes as various civilians smile at her, praise her, borderline hero-worship her. A young child even runs up to her for a hug and to show her the gun-shaped stick she’d found. The Guardian never responds, but even from here Suraya can see the small smiles she offers instead.
Something sinks in her stomach. The distinct feeling of dread wells up within her.
Sinine notices her watching and slowly peels away from the main crowds (and how strange, she thinks, that the Farm is now populous enough to have crowds) and climbs the stairs to Suraya’s perch. She presumes that the Guardian simply wants to report the status of her last mission, or have her Ghost report it for her, but instead there’s just an awkward moment of silence.
Finally, Suraya speaks up. “So, what’d you want to talk about?” The Guardian opens her mouth to speak, before making a frustrated face and summoning Unelema, making some strange hand gestures to her Ghost. These must mean something to the two of them, as he starts speaking.
“Devrim told her that you’re probably worried about us taking control of the Farm from you.”
Suraya cocks her head to the side, questioningly – did he now? – before making a sort of undignified snorting sound. This startles the Guardian a little, apparently. “You already are. People see you as more of a leader than they do me, but you can’t be faulted for that. It’s to be expected I guess.”
Sinine sidles closer a little and makes more gestures to her companion, who translates them once again. “We’re just fighters. Soldiers. Cannon fodder, in some people’s eyes. You’re the spirit behind this place, and people see that.” Hawthorne rolls her eyes and goes to retort, but the Ghost apparently isn’t done. “To be truly honest, we’re not really sure what we’re doing. We just follow the Traveler’s guidance, and, well, the Traveler led us to you.”
She laughs bitterly. How can they not understand? It’s a pretty simple and provable concept. “Louis led you to me and me to you, not some cosmic force.”
The Ghost’s eye rolls in what she can only read as frustration, but the Guardian cuts him off with a little shushing gesture. She makes a peculiar noise like something is stuck in her throat, before pulling out a datapad and typing out a message.
“I represent war. You represent humanity.”
Suraya pauses for a moment, avoiding eye contact, and all but admitting defeat in her body language. “You’re still a better leader. A natural leader.”
Sinine huffs, one of the first distinct sounds she’s heard from the Guardian, as she’s pulled by her hand to the railing. The Awoken gestures to the camp around them then gestures back to Hawthorne. “Yeah, but-“ She starts but is cut off by the Guardian’s almost violent head shake, and another message is furiously and hurriedly typed out for her on the datapad.
“You saved these people, not me. I fight Ghaul, the darkness, whatever needs killing. But you protect and defend and sustain. It’s easy to be a soldier, but not easy to be a leader. And you’re the only leader here.”
--
As a few more days pass, Suraya becomes convinced that Sinine is deliberately acting more deferent to her than usual, at least in public. While the management of the Farm has been split pretty clean between the two of them for almost a week now, there’s also an unstated agreement between them that Hawthorne is presented as the ultimate authority at the Farm, though it’s not a position that she particularly enjoys.
Suraya finds herself not minding passing on some of the responsibilities of managing the Farm to Sinine. There’s finally some trust between the two of them, though it remains tentative, and actually having someone to depend upon and share her burdens with is a welcome break from carrying the weight of thousands of lives on only her shoulders.
Sure, there’s an instinctual alarm going off almost continuously in her brain, warning her to get away, don’t get too attached, you’re only going to get hurt – but she does her best to ignore it. She needs this – the companionship (dare she call it friendship?), the sense of trust and the alleviation of some of her anxieties.
She may never truly be at ease around people, but the Guardian seems to be doing her damndest to break her way through (or perhaps dig underneath, circumvent entirely) Hawthorne’s walls.
And it’s not exactly unwelcome, she’s scared to realise.
iv;
Suraya just has to smile slightly, a tiny, small smile, as Sinine takes her hand and leads her across the Farm and she desperately tries to not read too much into the contact.
A day ago the Guardian had requested a small tub of black paint and small simple brush, and though Suraya had found the request strange she had approved it. Sinine must’ve caught wind of her confusion at the time, for her Ghost had offered for Suraya to come to their room the night after and see what use she would put it to.
So here they are now, the Guardian lightly pushing open the rusted door to the room she’d requisitioned as her own and leading her inside. It’s small, dark in the evening-light until Unelema kickstarts a couple of solar lanterns with a burst of energy. There’s a tarp covering a hole in the wall and the one window is blown out, but nobody has the luxury of choice in these times, and the Guardian hadn’t complained.
Sinine sheds her cloak carefully, folding it on the small cot, and Unelema transmatts her armour away. She doesn’t shed any of her outdoor clothing herself, but she allows herself to relax enough to tug down the hood of her poncho and loosen the braid that keeps her unruly mess of a hairstyle out of the way.
The situation feels very intimate, all things considered. The Awoken carefully sits, legs crossed, on the cold floor, a lantern by her side, her knife on her lap and the paint before her. When Suraya inelegantly plops to the floor beside her, she can see in the lantern-light more of the Guardian’s history than she’d ever imagined seeing.
Her cerulean skin is decorated with scars – crisscrossing incisions and miscoloured patches alongside bullet wounds and the occasional spread of light freckles. Her slightly toned arms are dotted with small black markings, most heavily decorating the skin of her forearms but also sparsely placed along the back of her hands and upper arms.
In a different situation, Suraya would’ve asked her for the meanings and history behind them all, but the anticipation hovering in the air holds her back.
With an almost practised ease, Sinine takes the dagger and digs it into her forearm.
The shout of concern that passes Suraya’s lips is instinctual, her mind instantly jumping to danger, blood, death- but the Guardian doesn’t so much as flinch, and though Hawthorne’s chest heaves in fear she slowly calms and watches what Sinine is doing.
She’s being incredibly careful – precise, even- in how she marrs her flesh, twisting the tip of the blade as if concerned by the outcome but unconcerned by the method. Sinine lifts the blade from what must be a finished cut before moving to another area on her arm and repeating the process until her arm is marked with about five new shapes.
The Guardian then leans forward and takes the small brush, dipping it carefully in the black paint and slowly, precisely, fills the incisions with the inky liquid. When this process is repeated on each marking she offers her arm to her Ghost, who heals the damage to her skin easily.
Suraya shuffles over to Sinine, who holds out her arm for inspection. The new markings now seem to be properly set into her skin somehow, but she can easily identify them from the older ones due to their vibrancy. There’s six she can distinguish, all strange little shapes.
Firstly, a marking she guesses is a simplified tree, made from two upward-pointing Vs and a vertical line through them. When she runs her fingers over it and gives the other woman a curious look, she gestures out the window to the Farm and the Wilds.
Then there’s a circle intersected with an X and vertical line, and Sinine nudges her Ghost with her unoccupied hand. Unelema then starts explaining what they mean, and apparently, this one is Ghaul, the leader of the Red Legion, and his apparent caging of the Traveler. Suraya frowns a little, and moves on.
Another circle, with a diagonal line slicing through it, which represents losing her Light. The same symbol, but one half decorated with little lines outward, like how a child might draw the sun – getting her Light back. A small X within a turned square represents finding her Ghost again.
And finally, three V shapes, simplified birds in flight, she presumes. Sinine points at her, and Hawthorne looks back at her, confused. “Me?”
The Guardian nods, and Suraya has to smile a little. “What do the others mean?” She asks, curious, and Unelema floats closer from where he was hovering over his partner’s shoulder.
“You want me to tell her?” He asks Sinine, and she nods, shuffling closer herself. The Ghost then starts cautiously explaining the meaning behind what appears to be a snow-topped mountain
Once he’s done explaining the meanings of the many tattoos Suraya feels far more respect for Sinine – no, Taevas. She’d never even heard of most of the things Unelema had mentioned, from Oryx to Crota to SIVA or the Black Garden, yet from his descriptions she starts to understand the scale of the Guardian’s achievements. She had defeated multiple gods, stared into the eyes of the Darkness and died thousands of times over, all without even knowing her original name.
Suraya is about to speak up when Taevas gestures her over, and she shuffles closer until they’re almost touching. The Guardian gestures at her to cup her palms together, and then nudges Unelema closer to come to rest on her offered hands. The Ghost is surprisingly light, his shell warm as he settles against her skin.
Taevas carefully takes up the paint and brush, and slowly paints over the various scratches, cracks and marrs in his shell, while Suraya carefully shifts him around to allow the Guardian easier access. Eventually she seems to be done, and Hawthorne expects the Ghost to instantly take off from her palm to where she presumes he’d be more comfortable by his partner’s side. Instead he remains in her palm, and doesn’t object when Suraya carefully brushes the already dried paint along one of his spines.
The Guardian closes the gap between them and Suraya happily settles against her shoulder, eyes already drifting shut as Taevas cautiously sets an arm around her shoulders and pulls her in closer.
“’m I fine to sleep here?” She mumbles into the other woman’s shoulder, and Suraya becomes visibly happier when she hears a small laugh from above her, another of Taevas’ sounds that she’s lucky enough to hear. A blanket pulled from the bed and draped around her is enough confirmation, so she lets herself drift off, safe in the Hunter’s arms.
v;
Suraya frowns as Dev’s voice comes through on the comms again, offering her a brief glimpse into the conversation he and Taevas are having across the Dead-Zone in the church tower he’s holed up in.
“Yes, well Suraya has always been a bit of a problem child” He starts, and she protests into her comm because while that’s true she doesn’t want Taevas to get the wrong impression about her. Also, she has a sinking feeling about where this conversation is headed.
“Don’t you dare.” She warns, keeping an eye on her surroundings from atop the Mines. The last thing she needs right now are some Fallen getting the drop on her. Despite her borderline murderous tone, she can practically hear Dev’s grin through the comms.
“I presume she hasn’t regaled you with the… Pigeon story, has she?” In her head she grumbles, but she knows better than to try to stop him at this point. At least if she acts indifferent, he might stop at just one embarrassing childhood story.
“So, way back – she must’ve been ten or so –“ He starts, “she’d been feeding some of the City pigeons that hung around our flat-block. Crumbs, really, but it was obviously enough for them to view her as their new leader or something, because one day-“ He pauses to laugh, and she rolls her eyes.
“Me and Marc had taken her out to get lunch, and we’re walking home when this little girl, one of her classmates, approaches us in the street. And let’s just say Suraya never got on well with this girl, so I’m preparing to break up a fight, when one of her pigeons’ lands nearby. And then another, and another, till there’s twenty or so birds all flanking her, staring down this poor ten-year-old girl. I don’t think I’ve seen someone turn tail and run so quickly before, or since.”
She’s about to protest that the other girl was a total bitch who always pulled her hair, when she hears it again – Tae’s laugh, echoing quietly through the comms.
“Exactly.” He says, sounding triumphant, and she decides to interject now before he decides on another story to tell and embarrass her with.
“You do have a mission to give her.” She reminds him, and the diversion seems to work.
“Ah yes. The Cabal are being nasty buggers again and are jamming our conn…” She zones out a little, as much as she can while in highly hostile territory. She’s aware of the details that Devrim is relaying in their entirety, so instead she takes this rare moment of peace to reflect on the past few days.
Thankfully, things are starting to calm down at the Farm. The flow of refugees has slowed to about twenty new arrivals a day, yet the problems they bring seems to be growing exponentially every minute. They’re running low on everything – food, medical supplies, ammo, shelter – but she knows that no matter how bad the situation gets at the Farm, it’ll always be safer than the City or Wilds.
And that’s why this mission’s objectives are so imperative. They need to reach every person out there who needs aid and they won’t get very far with a jammed broadcast. That said –
“I’m still sitting up here with this broken comm relay.” She reminds them, only half-joking.
“You’ll get it,” He chastises, followed by the familiar sound of a sip of tea. “Unfortunately, I don’t think our Guardian friend can teleport.”
--
Taevas eventually reaches her, booster in one hand and a flask in the other. “You made it.” She jokes, hoping the undercurrent of genuine worry isn’t too apparent. “I presume the Fallen didn’t give you too much trouble?”
The Hunter passes her the relay and props herself up on a crate, legs swinging to and fro as she pours herself a cup of tea from the flask. Too buried in setting up the relay, she startles a little when the other woman holds out the cup. “Nah, you have it.” Something twinges in Suraya’s chest when she notices hurt flit across Taevas’ face. “I’ve had enough of Dev’s tea for a lifetime” She explains.
Regardless, the Guardian nudges the cup into her hand. “She’s had some already.” Her Ghost explains, and she acquiesces, accepting the beverage. There’s a few moments where neither of them move their hands from where they both hold the cup, and Suraya can feel the slightest crackle of residual Arc energy against her fingers. It’s a beautiful feeling, she thinks, like the air just before a thunderstorm, and her fingers move of their own accord to press closer to Taevas’.
A ping sounds from the relay.
Frowning as the nice moment they were having is broken, she sets the cup aside and checks the screen, Taevas dropping to the floor to follow her. “There’s an incoming beacon.” She mutters, confused, and the other woman watches the monitor over her shoulder as she connects to the transmission.
Her frown only grows as she listens to the Vanguard leader – “Commander” Zavala, he calls himself – give orders to rally on Titan, especially at the final words of his speech. “Be brave.” Like the bravery he and the Guardians – Taevas excluded – had shown when the City fell to pieces, when thousands of innocent, helpless civilians had died, all due to their failure?
She scoffs, turning to Taevas, fully intending to rant with her about the Guardian’s apparent leadership, but falters at the sight of her facial expression. She’s turned to her Ghost, an expression of wonder and happiness across her face. “Zavala’s alive.” Her Ghost murmurs to her, and Suraya swallows down the lump congealing in her throat.
“You are not going to Titan.” She puts the full force of an order behind it, happy when her voice doesn’t waver like she’d feared it would. At the Ghost’s protests – “We need you here. Between the Cabal and the Fallen we can barely hold the Farm even with your help, and if this Commander of yours wants to help he can come here on his own two feet.”
“We need to, Hawthorne.” The Ghost replies, his tone probably meant to be soothing but just sounding patronizing to her in her agitated state, which irritates her further. “It’s our duty.”
“Funny that.” She scoffs. “I thought your “duty” was to protect the few people that your failure didn’t kill.” She glares at the Guardian, before shouldering her rifle and turning as Louis reluctantly hops up onto her shoulder.
“Hawthorne, please listen-“ The Ghost starts, but she ignores him. When the Guardian goes to grab her arm she tugs it from her grip and stalks off.
“You’ll know where to find me.”
--
Suraya huffs, watching the bonfire before her with far more intensity than would be considered normal. She’s perched up on a log by the makeshift fire, knees pulled to her chest like a moody teenager, and a stick for poking the fire held loosely in her limp left hand.
She hasn’t seen the Guardian all day, not since their discussion up on the Mines, but she’s heard the rumours. Apparently, she’s getting ready to leave tonight, off to Titan she presumes, and everyone seems to have said their goodbyes except from her.
Not that she wants to say goodbye to the Guardian. She’s abandoning everything they’ve built, everything they’ve built together, to go chasing ghosts.
But she has to admit that it hurts that the Guardian hasn’t come to find her. Suraya might not have sought the other out, but she hadn’t made much of an issue to hide either. And even if the Guardian couldn’t care less about her on a personal level, in the very least a professional departure was expected.
But hey, if she wants to leave them all behind, so be it. It wouldn’t be the first time for Suraya, and certainly won’t be the last.
She ignores the sound of someone cautiously taking a seat beside her, presuming it to be someone Dev had sent to talk to her. That is until a flask-cup of tea is quietly nudged into her free hand. She pulls it from the Guardian with a bit more force than necessary, spilling a bit of the scalding liquid on her ungloved hands, but she’s too tired and angry to care at this point.
She keeps her eyes away from the Guardian, choosing to stare bitterly down at the ground the opposite side of her legs instead. Minutes pass in this awkward silence, only broken when Suraya occasionally takes petulantly forceful swigs of tea, until she chances a glance up at the Guardian. Something in her aches when she registers the upset expression on Taevas’ face, the tiny tremble of her lips as she traces shaky circles into the sleek black armour covering her knee.
A petulant, vengeful part of her is happy. Good. Let her suffer like you have. She pushes past the nasty thoughts and silently sets down the empty cup, nudging the hand closer to Taevas’ until her pinky just brushes the Awoken’s ungloved hand.
The Guardian flinches, pulling her hand away and holding it as if Suraya’s hand was a blue-hot flame rather than barely-lukewarm skin. Fine then. She mutters to herself. Suit yourself. The hand she’d offered the other curls into a fist on her lap, and she goes back to staring into the fire.
Taevas, however, seems to have other plans. The Guardian carefully reaches out to place her hand atop her curled fist, and she can feel the tension tight across her body slowly dissipate for the first time in a week.
Her fist uncurls and turns to touch palm-to-palm. She glances down at their hands just as Taevas links their fingers together, and a small sad smile flits across her face. At this point her anger has disappeared, leaving her tired and sad and lonely in it’s stead. She subconsciously shuffles closer to the Guardian, but before she can come to her senses and back off again Taevas is pulling her closer to rest against her armoured shoulder.
“Come back.” She whispers, voice strained with the effort of holding back tears. “Promise me you’ll come back.”
She frowns when Taevas pulls away from her, but pauses when the Guardian unholsters a gun from her waist and offers it to her. It’s a hand-cannon with sharp edges, white and black, decorated with sharp red lines akin to Fallen laser-tripmines. Taevas pushes the gun into her hands until Suraya accepts it, holding it close, a thumb subconsciously tracing one of it’s vertices.
A gagging sound has her whipping her head up to look at Taevas, concerned by the nasty sound. She seems to have something stuck in her throat, as she grits her teeth with effort. Suraya is about to put the extensive first aid training she has to use when the Guardian gasps, taking in heaves of air and waving of Suraya’s attempts at helping.
The realisation that Taevas was trying to speak comes to her when she transmatts in a datapad instead, typing Suraya out a message.
“I’ll be back. I promise.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” She replies sadly, and Taevas pulls her closer again. This time Suraya takes it a step further, lying down across the log to rest her head on the Guardian’s legs. “You leaving tonight?” She mumbles, glancing up to receive another datapad message.
“Not anymore. I’ll be here when you wake.”
Deciding to trust her once again she hums, letting the hand carding through her hair lull her to sleep.
vi;
It’s been a week now since Taevas left for Titan, and Suraya doesn’t want to admit how much her absence is affecting her. She constantly thinks back to that night by the fire and the following morning, the words she could’ve said to get Taevas to stay replaying through her brain the moment she gets some downtime.
By the time she’d woken up that morning, the sun was well into the sky, air bright with a light breeze in the late morning sun. She’d wiped at her eyes groggily, annoyed at herself for sleeping in so long. She’s been exhausted, sure, but that had taken a backseat compared to the other issues they were facing at that moment (and that they still are facing).
It took her a moment to fully register where she was, coming to the realisation that she was still lying by the now-extinguished fire, her head still resting on Taevas’ lap. The other woman obviously noticed that she was waking, and Unelema transmatted in over her shoulder.
“Good morning!”, he greeted her, surprisingly chipper.
All she could manage for a reply was a grunt as she rubbed more sleep-dust out of her eyes. “What time is it?” She had mumbled, blinking her eyes up at Taevas who had a hand carding through her hair in what was a surprisingly intimate gesture.
“11hrs” he replied, and she’d startled awake.
“You shouldn’t have let me sleep in that long! How much have I missed?”
“Nothing much, really” The Ghost replied. “Taea’s been keeping an eye on things all night.” She glanced up at the Awoken, who was pointedly not looking at her, instead scrolling through the datapad in her hands.
“Thanks” she’d murmured, then sat upright next to the Guardian.
“It’s alright” the Ghost replied, “nothing that major has come up, anyway.”
She paused – “I thought you would’ve left by now.”
Taevas shrugged, and Unelema replied for her “We’re going to head off soon, anyway. Just didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”
She waved him away “I’m sure you have far more important things to worry about that babysitting me all night.” Then she’d looked up at Taevas, confused at the quiet humming noise the Guardian had made.
The Awoken stood and offered her a hand up. She took it, obviously, as Unelema floated around them before he settled above his Guardian’s shoulder.
“One thing did come up, but we’ve dealt with it already.” The Ghost hesitated, and looked over at his Guardian. When she nodded, he continued. “Lord Shaxx, our Crucible Handler –“ He paused to explain “Crucible is where Guardians fight each other to train” - He continued “got into contact with us this morning. He’s on his way to the Farm now.”
“What’s he look like?”
“You’ll know him when you see him. White and orange armour, yells a lot. He’s nice though.” Unelema cautiously floated over to her. She dipped her head and he lightly bumped into her forehead in a small affectionate gesture. “We’ll be back soon, I promise.”
She glanced up at the Guardian, who seemed sad and reached out to link her hand with Suraya’s own. “I’ll hold you to that.” She replied, as she drew Taevas in for a hug.
Her recollection is broken by the whirring of a ship’s engine at the periphery of her hearing. When she checks the date-time on her ‘pad she realises that it matches up with the approximate arrival time for the Crucible handler. Hopping down from her perch, Louis swoops down to land on her shoulder, and she approaches the group disembarking from the ship.
“You must be Hawthorne!” A loud voice rings out, a booming voice rings out. The source is a large man in obnoxious white and orange armour, a rifle slung over his back. He’s surrounded by a group of people – Guardians, she realises – and she nods.
“That’d be me. Lord Shaxx, I presume?”
“Ah, I see you’ve been forewarned of my visit.” He laughs, and gestures to the group behind him. “We’re ready to help in any way we can.”
She nods and turns, gesturing for them to follow her. The Hunters will be good scouts, she presumes, the Titans well equipped to defend the Farm’s borders, and the Warlocks adept at managing the large amount of dataflow they receive. The additional help certainly isn’t unwelcome.
--
She’s passing through the Farm late at night a few days later, when she overhears an interesting snippet from a conversation between two of the new Guardians. There’s a Titan and a Warlock – the Titan an exo with an all-black frame and red optics, Escupir, she thinks her name is, and the Warlock a human with tanned skin and dark hair - Mudra, both women. The Warlock leans heavily against the Titan’s armoured shoulder, and sniffles to the other; “D’ya think Tae is still alive?”
Suraya pauses at what she presumes is a nickname for Taevas, trying to not make it obvious that she’s listening in on their conversation.
“I’m sure she is,” The Titan reassures her, “after everything she’s survived, I wouldn’t put it past her to just show up one day, Light and all.”
“I jus-“ The Warlock starts, and the Titan draws her closer. “She’s never gone radio silent before.”
“Except after Him”
The Warlock lets out a shaky breath – “She was forced to stay at the Tower after Ory- Him. In her apartment. And El would answer us, even if she wouldn’t herself.” She huffs, and continues. “It just seems so improbable that she survived.”
Suraya decides that this is probably the best time to reveal herself, so she steps forward. “She seems to make a habit out of breaking the odds.” She comments idly, and the pair swivel round.
“Are- are you-“ The Warlock starts, but the Titan interjects.
“She’s alive.” It’s a statement, really, but she can feel the question underneath it.
“Mhm. Got her Light back too, didn’t know you knew her.”
“Where is she?” The Titan asks, as the Warlock stares wide-eyed at her.
“Titan, running off after your Vanguard. Missed her by a couple days, unfortunately.” She moves over to sit opposite them. “How’d you know her?”
The Warlock shuffles closer to the Titan again, resting her head on the Titan’s shoulder. “We’re her Fireteam – the people she runs missions with. Mudra and I go way back, and it was just the two of us until one day we hear gossip around the Tower that there’s a new Guardian, a Hunter, that’s already showing the rest of us up. Killed an Archon when she was only a couple days Risen.”
She pauses – “When she came back to the Tower she was already a stereotypical mysterious Hunter, full black armour already. We ended up playing a round of Crucible with her and she fit our team quite well, and the next time she went out to wrangle the Fallen she invited us along, and we just ended up inseparable I guess.”
Mudra, the Warlock shifts upwards and finally speaks, in her quiet, almost timid, voice. “We presumed her dead after the Fall.”
Escupir makes a confirming noise. “But if she’s alive, especially with the Light, it – well, it changes everything.”
vii;
Not even a week later, she’s met with another new arrival to the Farm.
She’s with Shaxx when they arrive, pouring over the set of outstanding scout missions they need to assemble teams for. The Titan has said, by his own admission, that scouting isn’t exactly his strong suit, but he has decades of military experience on her, and he’d offered to help.
A whirring sound from outside the Barn interrupts their discussion, and they share a look. Shaxx offers her a hand which she accepts, pulling herself to her feet and following the Titan out the ajar doors.
When they arrive outside, she finds that her initial suspicions about the identity of the new arrival were correct – there stands Commander Zavala, leader of the Vanguard, with a young woman by his side. The Commander appears exactly the same as she’s heard him described, from whispers in both the City and Farm – intimidating, with a strong face, imposing, heavily armoured, the lot. He stands tensely, body rigid and jaw set, while the woman next to him (young, with light skin and obnoxiously bright blonde hair) is practically bouncing on the balls of her feet.
The pair of Titans exchange simple terse pleasantries, while the other woman smiles at her.
“Hawthorne, right?” She nods an affirmation. “I’ve heard a lot ‘bout you. Taea and I shared a few drinks ‘fore she set off again, and the chat kept coming back to you.”
“All good things I hope?” She replies, unsure of how to process this new information, but glad to hear a mention of Taevas.
“Yeah, she seems to really like ‘ya, and I can see why. Not many non-Guardians get to lead stuff.” A laugh, then she continues. “Amanda Holliday, by the way.” She holds out her hand, and Suraya shakes it. “Tower Shipwright, back when that was still a thing. Chief Shipwright in general now, I guess. Can fix anything you hand me.”
It’s only then that the Titans seem to remember Hawthorne, and Commander Zavala approaches her with an unusual sort of humility for someone of his rank. He offers her an apologetic half-smile, strange Awoken eyes studying her carefully. “Suraya Hawthorne?” He asks, and all she gives in return is a nod, curious to see where he’d lead the conversation.
“Thank you for keeping everyone safe in our stead.” He starts, softly. “Taevas told me you’ve been running this place since the Fall.”
“Somebody had to pick up your slack.” She studies the Awoken harshly. “But if you’re here to help now, it’s a start, I suppose.”
Shaxx’s loud ringing laugh breaks the tension. “Well, I don’t know about you lot, but I could do with a drink.”
--
Shaxx really needs to revaluate what ‘a drink’ usually means.
Suraya somehow ends up the most sober of them all, with the Commander a close second, while Shaxx and Amanda are absolutely plastered. The latter has been giggling away for the past five minutes, slumped on Hawthorne’s shoulder.
She’s just finished telling the story of the time Cayde – the Hunter Vanguard, she remembers Tae telling her – drove a Sparrow off a cliff in a freak “accident”, and is now moving onto a time when Taevas and Mudra made flower crowns for all the Tower’s cleaning Frames. A heavy blush settles across her face which she internally blames on the alcohol but she still hopes that nobody notices.
But, of course, Amanda has to.
“Why ‘ya blushing?” She coos, reaching up to poke Suraya’s cheek. “If I ain’t know better I’d say you have a crush or somethin’.” She pauses, seemingly to reorient herself as she comes to a realisation. “Ohhhhhhh, you do.” She slurs slightly and smiles knowingly up at her. She presumes Shaxx is grinning at them while Zavala seems downright confused.
“I think you’re reading too far into things.” She finally replies, and Amanda huffs.
“Aight so that’s just wrong.” She scrambles up to her knees – “If there’s one thing I’m great at its matchmaking, especially when I’m off my face.” Suraya rolls her eyes, and Amanda continues. “Like he” – She points at Zavala – “has the biggest fucking crush on Cayde.”
The Awoken splutters and Amanda grins, leaning back on her knees. “And you wanna smooch Tae.”
Lying to her seems pointless now, so she tries negotiation. After a pause, she replies. “So what if I do?”
Amanda’s grin only grows as she prepares to impart more of her wisdom. “You tell her how you feel, course!” Suraya shakes her head but the Shipwright isn’t deterred, and decides to start rambling. “I like Titans more, but I can see the appeal. Big fancy hero ‘nd all.” At Hawthorne’s puzzled expression – “Sloane. Fuck I love her. Anyway, when she gets her ass back here from Nessus or whatever you’re gonna tell her. Ain’t need to be a big confession, just hold her hand or somethin’. No escaping it though, I’ll know if you haven’t.”
“That’s not how this wor-“ She starts, but is quickly interrupted.
“How it works now. No moping, no arguing, no overthinking.”
Amanda looks far too pleased with herself and promptly falls asleep on Hawthorne’s shoulder, her head refusing to settle anywhere else despite multiple half-hearted attempts on Suraya’s part. Shaxx eventually lumbers away, back to whatever space he’s requisitioned as his own, leaving the two sober people in an awkward tense silence.
Zavala is the first to break it. “When Taevas arrived at the Tower from the Cosmodrome, I presumed that she was just another Hunter. Cayde saw her as someone special, but I didn’t really appreciate his opinions back then, and wrote it off as him overestimating her potential. But then she made contact with the Reef, defeated Oryx, avenged the Iron Lords…” He trails off and offers her a timid smile.
“Throughout it all, I must admit that I remained… cautious of her. She was professional, yes, but retained much of the typical Hunter mysticism and cryptic-ness. It took a long while, but I found myself eventually considering her a … friend. We presumed her dead when the City fell until she arrived on Titan like a gift from the Traveler itself.”
Zavala shifts uncomfortably, avoiding meeting her eyes. “I never felt more useless, powerless, than I did on Titan. People were dying around me, colleagues I’ve known for centuries, war veterans and civilians. We didn’t have long until the Hive would reach us, and we were counting down the days, really.” Zavala meets her eyes, again. “She saved us, told me to come here to help hold back the Fallen. If I’m honest, I wasn’t expecting much, but she seemed to trust you, and that was enough for me.”
“So, am I what you expected, Commander?”
“No.” He replies honestly. “But you’re what humanity needs.”
--
Zavala helps her to get Amanda back to the Shipwright’s room, and she waits in the doorway while he sets Amanda down and attempts to get her comfortably situated. They’re back to silence when Zavala closes the door behind him, though this time the silence is more comfortable. When they arrive at Hawthorne’s door Zavala turns to face her, taking an envelope from one of his pockets and handing it to her.
“Taevas asked that I give this to you.” There’s a knowing smile on his face, and Hawthorne is stuck between elation and wanting to die of embarrassment. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
viii;
That night, on the roof of the Barn, with the night sky draped above her, she retrieves the letter. The envelope is typical, standard-issue sturdy white card, smooth against her fingers. Neat black cursive script spells out her name.
She carefully breaks the seal, and a tidal wave of emotions come over her. The paper is thick and soft and rough, a single page filled almost in its entirety with tight cursive, the contents as following;
“Dear Suraya,
I hope this letter has found its way to you with little disruption, for the first thing I’d like to do is apologise. I’m aware that we didn’t depart on the best of terms, and the responsibility for that lays entirely on me. It was wrong of me to leave with little in the way of explanation as to why I had to leave, and with little consideration for your own feelings on the matter, but I hope you may forgive me, for in Zavala’s broadcast I saw a path at last – a lead, a way forward.
My time on Titan has been awakening, to say the least. In the time since my battle against Oryx, I must confess that I had forgotten about the severity of threat that the Hive present, and I loathe to think of what may have transpired had I not arrived by the time I did. I’m sure you’ve already met Amanda and Zavala, and if you take my advice on any subject please let it be this – don’t be too harsh on Zavala. I understand that in your eyes he failed you, the City, all of us, and while that’s debatable, he’s struggling. Nobody blames him from the Fall more than he blames himself. I know it’s tempting to try him, to push against him at every opportunity, but please just work with him as much as you can. And please don’t judge Amanda for being super hyper - it’s her way of coping with everything falling apart.
By the time you receive this letter, I likely will have already left for Nessus – a Centaur, planetoid, on which we think Cayde, the Hunter Vanguard, might be stranded. I loathe to stay away from the Farm longer than I’d originally planned, but by hopefully reconnecting the entire Vanguard we can gain a significant boost in morale, and more widely, the entire war effort.
It shouldn’t be a significant amount of time before we meet one another once again, but in the meantime, I’d like to inform you that, well, to be frank, I miss you. I’ll admit, it’s not a feeling I’m truly used to – in general, I’m not familiar with expressing my emotions in any capacity, really. I’m usually considered not much more than a vessel, a way of expressing the Traveler’s will. All us Guardians are similar in that way, but my roles before the Fall ensured that I was never really seen as more than The Guardian or any of the myriad of other names people saw fit to call me by. In others I have found friends, but around no one but you have I truly felt like a whole, independent person again. We may have only known each other for little over two weeks, but in that time I must confess that I feel we bonded.
I hope we will meet again soon,
Taevas
P.S: 1924:2ac4:72b2:0000:1329:72d8:2488:1099”
Suraya’s breath hitches at that last line, catching in her throat as she recognizes the string of characters as a comm ID. Reaching blindly for her own comm she subconsciously commits it to memory and plugs the string into her own. She hesitates with her finger over the call button, but after a deep shaky breath she musters up the courage to press it.
For a few heart-stopping moments it rings, before it finally connects.
“Suraya?” It’s Unelema’s voice, clear but hesitant as she lets out a sign of relief. “Zavala reached you, then?”
“Yeah-“ She replies, mind running a blank from the millions of things she wants to say. “Is- is Tae there?”
“Mhmm” the Ghost hums in affirmation. “She can write through the channel, one second.”
“How are things at the Farm?” appears a moment later.
“Getting better –“ she replies, desperately trying to keep the emotion – relief, hope, lov- from coming through in her voice. “Still not 100% sure that your Commander won’t try and take over.”
“He won’t, else he’ll have to answer to me.” Suraya stifles a laugh, and Tae continues. “I’m glad things are getting better over there.” – A pause – “I really didn’t want to leave, you know.”
Suraya sighs – she can’t deny that she’s upset by Tae’s absence, but her anger at the situation has long since dissipated into something more… longing. “I know, just – come back soon, yeah? I… - I miss you too.”
The moment hangs between them before it’s interrupted by a frankly grating laugh and an exasperated sigh from Tae.
“Cayde.” Unelema mutters, annoyed, before Cayde – the Hunter Vanguard, that’s it – laughs again.
“Oh sorry, am I interrupting something?” Its not a serious question, she can tell, and it apparently ticks off Tae’s Ghost.
“Yes.” He bites, but this Cayde character is obviously undeterred.
“Ohhhh.” She can practically hear the grin in his voice. “Your girlfriend finally called!”
“Cayde I swear to th-.” He’s interrupted again.
“Hey, hey, I get it, no need to get stressy.” He laughs as El sighs again, before apparently turning his focus to the still open comms. “So, I’m Cayde, professional idiot and loot hoarder, at your service.”
“Tae, please don’t tell me you’re making this thing my responsibility.”
--
It takes another couple of days for him to actually arrive, but when he does, it’s with a bit less showmanship than she’d expected.
She’s in a meeting of sorts with Zavala – informal gathering, really, to discuss the distribution of key resources throughout the Farm – when she notices a figure creeping up behind the Commander. She’s about to say something when the figure properly comes into view, and gestures for her to be quiet. A moment later, the Hunter Vanguard leaps onto the back of the Commander, having to hoist himself up a bit to reach the Awoken’s shoulders. His laughter is loud and raucous but quietens down when the Titan grabs onto him in a crushing hug.
It’s obviously not the response Cayde was expecting, optics wide. “Hey Blue, you okay there?” Zavala shakes his head and holds him closer, before the moment ends quickly and they part, Zavala looking at the other Vanguard with a strange mix of concern and anger.
“What were you thinking, running off to Nessus alone?”
“Ow Zav, that hurts,” Cayde replies, far too jokingly. “I knew what I was doing, see?” He gestures to his Ghost, who transmatts a circular object into his hand. Suraya isn’t sure what it is, but Zavala seems to know.
“A Vex teleporter?”
“Yeah, limited range, but we can still probably use it to get up to Ghaul and sock ‘im in the face.”
“How limited?”
The pair of Vanguards turn to face her, and Cayde’s expression shifts. “You must be Hawthorne.” He’s wearing a rough approximation of a grin, “Blue 2 told me alllll about you.”
“Blue 2?” She asks in response.
“Blue,” He gestures at Zavala, “And Blue 2 is Tae. I’m unoriginal in my naming.” He laughs, approaching her. “And she told me ‘Don’t call her a Hunter, don’t insult her falcon, don’t insult her poncho.’”
“Sound advice. How close will we have to get for the teleporter to work?”
“In the City, somewhere. Better than nothing, though I don’t think it was worth getting stuck in a teleportation loop for… Might be able to tweak the range if you give me some time.”
Zavala coughs pointedly, drawing their attention. “What part of any logical plan involves teleporting to Ghaul and punching him?”
“My plan does, Blue. Taevas can get up to the Almighty, take out its weapon and then beat that ugly slug-looking-thing back into whatever pit he crawled out of. All we need to do is get her close.” He slings an arm around the Titan’s waist. “Have some faith.”
And Suraya doesn’t miss the way Zavala smiles down at him, nor the way he gives Cayde’s wrist a reassuring squeeze.
ix;
Hawthorne is moving through the farm late one evening when she spots Cayde, perched on the edge of a roof with the chicken he’s taken a liking to (Colonel, she thinks he’s named it), eyes set on the Traveler’s shard. He must be pretty out of it, as he doesn’t notice her approaching until she plops down next to him, making him jump.
“Hey Poncho.” He greets her, but his voice sounds more tired than she expected. They sit in silence, Suraya eventually taking the hand cannon Tae had given her out of its holster and absent-mindedly running her thumb up and down its barrel. Cayde notices the gun, and an expression of shock flits across his features.
“Can I see that?” He asks, and she nods, passing him the gun. Cayde makes an appreciative noise, studying the weapon, and eventually handing it back. “Taevas gave you that, right? Only seen a couple of Sunshots, ‘nd only one with that paint job.”
She nods, grip on the gun tightening, voice quiet. “Gave it to me before she left.” She says simply, not willing to acknowledge the gravity of the gesture lest she get stuck in a self-dug pit of overthinking again.
Cayde stares at her, shocked. “Do you not realise how massive that is?”
“Obviously not.” She replies, dryly.
He turns his body to face her, sitting on his knees and leaning forward. “To us Hunters, a gun like that is- well, it’s everything.” He laughs a little. “I’ve seen people kill for less. And yeah, Tae favours rifles and that Prometheus she still won’t let me try out, but by giving you a gun like that-.” He trails off a little. “It’s a big gesture, to say the least.”
Silence draws out between the two of them again, and, after a while, she speaks up. “You mentioned it being a Hunter thing, right?” At his small nod – “I- I don’t really understand any of the Hunter stuff, if I’m honest. I know that you have a lot of traditions, but they’re lost on me.”
“Anything you want to know in particular?”
“What’s the deal with the cloaks?”
Cayde exhales deeply, brow furrowing, and fingers knitting together. “Well, mine… my cape was once Andal’s. Andal Brask’s. He was the Hunter Vanguard before me, and a close friend. When we lost him, I took up his cloak, as a vow. Most Hunters are the same – our cloaks have stories to tell.”
“What about Taevas’?”
“Hers was standard issue, basic Hunter armour, I believe. Been with her since she first came to the Tower. Pretty sure it was an off-white colour originally, but she dyed it black and painted that symbol on the back. Do you know what it means? The sun with a slash through it?” She nods.
“Her light, she’s got a tattoo of it on the back of her hand too.”
“Damn, she showed you her tattoos too? Not like her to trust so openly.”
“Maybe I’m an exception.”
“Maybe you are.” Cayde laughs, noticing Hawthorne’s expression, and letting out a knowing sound.
“Not you too.” She gripes when she realises Cayde knows. “Amanda was enough.”
“Hey, I’m not saying anything.” He laughs again. “You’ll be good for her though, you know. She struggles with her identity and relationships, and it seems to be mutual, from the way she spoke of you.” He claps her on her back.
Hawthorne shakes her head, confused at Cayde’s enthusiasm. “There’s nothing between us, she hardly even likes me. We just work together.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.”
She lets out a sigh. “Either way… I can’t even communicate with her, I know nothing about her, and.” Another huff – “It won’t work out.”
“I might not be able to convince you to get off your ass and tell her, but I think I can help with the communication thing, presuming you mean that you can’t understand what’s she’s saying.”
“Well, she doesn’t speak.”
“Not verbally, no. But have you never seen her sign?”
“Sign?” She asks, confused.
Cayde makes a series of hand gestures that she swears she recognises before she realises – they’re the gestures Taevas makes at her ghost. “Standard Sign Language. There were versions before the collapse, Hunters picked it up as a way of communicating in shorthand, then an official version was developed. Taught her it myself. If you want, I have some datapads with common words and phrases, it ain’t that difficult to pick up.”
“Are you sure?”
“Hell yeah, least I can do.” His Ghost transmatts a datapad onto her lap and she turns it on, a series of hand gestures and movements representing letters and words greeting her. Her eyes skim the page before Cayde speaks up again.
“It was only after Oryx that she stopped speaking entirely. I don’t know what she went through there, but I can’t imagine that it was good. So please, keep her safe. She’s earnt it.” He gives her a genuine smile. “You both have.”
--
Two nights later, Ikora, the Warlock Vanguard, arrives.
Suraya doesn’t know what to expect of her by the time she steps down from her ship, hands folded behind her back and sharp eyes surveying the Farm. When Suraya approaches her there’s distrust and contempt in the Warlock’s gaze, but the Wilds-woman pushes past it for now.
For Tae’s sake, she reminds herself.
According to the Vanguard, said Hunter is still occupied on Io, helping one ‘Asher Mir’ access the Warmind Vault there. Suraya doesn’t question the synthesized retching sound Cayde makes at that name, nor does she ask for expansion on her admittedly very limited knowledge of the Warminds (they weren’t exactly covered in primary school).
She’s just happy that Tae is coming home.
x;
It’s the next morning, just after the sun has broken over the horizon, painting the sky in shades of amber, that she arrives. The Wanderwing touches down, Taevas transmatting to the ground while Unelema lands the ship elsewhere then reappears by her shoulder. The Vanguard approach her almost instantly, Cayde first as he slings an arm over her shoulder, then Zavala and Ikora, the former clapping her on the shoulder and the latter giving her a small smile. She looks away when Tae looks up at her post, studying the sky, the horizon, and anything other than the woman who’s been on her mind for weeks.
She watches the Guardian make her way towards her post, greeting people with nods and handshakes as she goes, Shaxx’s laughter loud as he congratulates her and Amanda yelling out a greeting. By the time Taevas reaches her, she’s managed to control her emotions enough to appear unaffected when she turns to appraise the Hunter.
Most of Tae’s gear is new, she notes, armour sleeker and less mismatched, but the cape and sword mounted to her back remain the same. They stand in uncomfortable silence for a few moments, before Suraya breaks the tension with a simple “Welcome back.” The Guardian nods in return, making an uncomfortable noise in the back of her throat and walking away.
When she’s out of sight Suraya releases the tension in her shoulders with a loud, drawn-out sigh. It’s going to be a long day.
--
By midday, news of Taevas’ arrival has spread through most of the Farm, Suraya watching from her perch as the guardian is greeted by the majority of the Farm’s inhabitants, Guardian and civilian alike. She glances down at the time on her datapad, biting her lip as she watches the horizon. A team of Guardians are due back from a supply run any minute now, including Escupir and Mudra, and she’s unsure of how they’ll react. Taevas catches her eye from down below, and Suraya gives her an awkward nod. She’s not sure how exactly to deal with this hole she’s dug herself into by keeping Tae at a distance since she returned, but it won’t be too bad. At least that’s what she hopes.
A few minutes later, they arrive.
Mudra is the first to notice Tae, sprinting towards her, arms outstretched, and almost crashing into the Hunter. They embrace closely, while Escupir approaches, Taevas inviting her into the hug by setting her arm across the Titan’s shoulder. The civilians around them discreetly watch, while the Guardians do their best to ignore the scene, and Hawthorne finds herself unable to break her gaze for a few, long, seconds.
She can’t afford to distract herself with this. There’s work to be done.
--
It’s well into the night by the time she realises that she hasn’t seen Taevas all evening. The night air is cool against the exposed skin of her face and neck, sky devoid of clouds, and stars sparkling above her, as she heads to Taevas’ room. She knocks on the door - a formality, really, a gust of wind could pull it off its rusty hinges – and it nudges open, Unelema promptly blinking away when it’s ajar. She can’t spot Taevas anywhere, until her Ghost blinks back into reality by the open window, shell gesturing upwards.
After climbing out the window and up the remaining wall, to the flat roof above, there stands Taevas. She’s forgone most of her armour, left only in black civilian clothes and her cloak, braced forward on the half-wall, a stylus shaped object in her grip tracing lightly across the page of a book. The Guardian is obviously zoned out and jumps a fair bit when Suraya greets her with a quiet “Hey”.
She visibly relaxes when she identifies her, offering her a tentative smile, while Hawthorne sidles closer, looking down onto the page she’d been drawing on. A series of familiar objects greet her – the shard of the Traveler, peeking out from rooftops and the surrounding forest. Sets of hands, Unelema, the moon, a leaf with curled edges, strange small symbols. And Suraya herself, a small frown on her face as she studies the horizon, Louis just visible over her shoulder.
“I didn’t know you drew.” She inquires softly, her own brown eyes meeting the Guardian’s burning amber. She doesn’t catch the small upwards tick of Taevas’ lips, but does notice when her hands move up, then retreat back to their careful hold on the book. Unelema blinks into existence again, transmatting up the Hunter’s tools and watching as she starts to gesture.
Hands cross each other before sliding outwards – not – hands in front, over each other, moving apart – many – curled into fists, knocked against each other – do.
Orange eyes widen when she laughs and replies: “I’d imagine it doesn’t inspire much fear into the enemy.”
The Hunter’s expression is a saddening mix of desperate hope and astonishment when she signs back. She points to Suraya, followed by a finger pulled down her face, curled across her forehead then a point to herself. “You can understand me?”
“Cayde taught me. Thought it was about time you stopped having to use your Ghost as a fancy interpreter.”
The Guardian laughs, a beautiful, rich sound, before signing back. “There’s a lot I have to tell you.” She reaches out to take Suraya’s hand in her own, knitting their fingers together, and she swears time itself stops for a moment.
Especially when Tae takes their hands to her face, pressing a simple kiss against the skin of Suraya’s knuckles.
A beat of silence passes between them, before Hawthorne pulls Taevas forward into a long-overdue kiss. They part a moment later, and she doesn’t miss the look of complete relief and happiness that flits across the Hunter’s features. “I’ve wanted to do that for far too long” she signs, and Suraya can’t help but laugh in agreement. And then they’re kissing again, and Tae tastes like home and all the things she’d never dared to hope for.
They pull away from eachother, Taevas’ fingers already tangled in Suraya’s mess of curls, and they share a relieved smile.
“I missed you.” Suraya reveals, and Tae pulls her against her chest, drawing her cloak around the Wilds-woman’s back as protection from the cold wind. “Leave me again and I’ll set Louis on you.”
The Awoken’s chest shakes with quiet laughter, and she signs a response. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
xi;
It’s another few days later when she has to face the truth of the situation – Tae is going to have to fight Ghaul.
She’s stood against the wall of the barn while the Vanguard discusses the plan once again, fingers picking nervously at the skin of her forearms as Taevas setting a comforting hand on hers. Her amber eyes are focused clearly on the trio of Guardians before them, but her fingers continue to trace reassuring shapes across the back of Hawthorne’s hand, the motion soothing despite the nature of the conversation.
The plan to get Tae up to Ghaul is solid enough – a multi-layer attack on some of the Legion’s forces in the City, enough to safely push through to a suitable point for the teleporter to be set up. It’s risky, yes – any direct attack on the Legion while most Guardians are Lightless is bound to be – but there’s not much more they can do to improve it. They can’t hold out against the Legion for long, not with the sheer number of refugees they have to protect, and taking out Ghaul is their best hope for destabilising the Legion and taking back the City.
Still, a horrible, gnawing feeling of pure anxiety plagues her mind, stirred up by the rapidly approaching assault. This has to happen, she knows that, but her mind refuses to accept the situation. They’ll be going in effectively blind, running only on educated guesses, and they’ll be no second chances – for most of them anyway.
But they don’t have any other choices left.
--
It’s the night before the City assault when they find time to be together again, relaxed against each other on the uncomfortable expanse of Tae’s bed. The Awoken’s hands are combing through her dark curls, while her own fingers trace over the soft texture of her cloak. Taevas’ fingers eventually retreat from her hair and instead slip between their bodies to sign a message.
“It’s going to be okay.”
She sighs, setting her head against Taevas’ chest. “I know, but I can’t help but worry.” At that the Hunter pulls away, getting off the bed with a strange expression on her face. Suraya watches as she removes her cloak and lays it flat on the floor, Unelema transmatting a knife into her hand. Pulling the fabric taught she carves off a section about the length of her forearm and two fingers thick that tapers off at the end with a clean edge, then approaches Hawthorne with a smile, kneeling on the bed in front of her.
Catching on, she holds out her wrist. Tae loops the fabric around her wrist once, twice, and ties it neatly, meeting Suraya’s eyes with more emotion and love than anyone has ever shown in regards to her. Hawthorne stands up herself, snatching up her poncho from where she discarded it and taking up the knife that had been left a moment ago. The white fabric is a tad dirty, inevitable in the Wilds, but it’ll have to do. Her hands shake as she trims off a section of fabric similar in size from the bottom of the garment.
When she stands again, Tae pulls her into a hug, Hawthorne’s hands slipping up in the almost non-existent gap between them. Tae offers her wrist, and she loops the fabric around once, twice and ties it tightly. Suraya rests her head against the other’s shoulder, the Awoken’s hands set on her waist, just letting the world pass them by, if only for a moment. One of Tae’s hands comes up to caress her cheek, and a beat later words are murmured against her lips.
Tae’s voice is rich, almost powerful by itself, warm against her skin. And the words she gives Suraya are simple, but fill her heart with hope and joy.
“I love you.”
Her eyes shoot up to study the Awoken’s, the small smile on Tae’s lips almost hiding the small tell of her anxiety in the twitch of her face, the way her amber eyes refuse to meet Hawthorne’s own for a moment.
Suraya lets out a shaky breath, one of her hands coming up to rest over Tae’s. “I love you too.” A few moments pass in silence until Hawthorne feels a strange sensation run over the cheek that the Hunter’s palm is cupped against. The feeling is almost imperceptible, at first, until it spreads against her skin again, and she can identify the sensation. Its electricity – not unpleasant as she’d expect, but instead cool and comforting as pulses of energy grace her cheek. Tae pulls her hand away, keeping her fingers linked with Suraya’s as small fractals of pale blue light run along her tattoos and branch off over her cerulean skin.
“Promise me we’ll both make it out.” Hawthorne whispers, trying to savour the sensation of Taevas’ Light against their joined hands. Their fingers separate, except their pinkies, which remain tied around each other, and the message is clear – I promise.
Remnants of armour are shed as the pair crawl under the covers together, Suraya’s head tucked closely against the Hunter’s chest to allow both of them to fit on the narrow bed. Unelema transmatts in, the Ghost settling into the space next to Tae’s head, his frame nudging comfortingly against the couple. It’s a reminder to them all that they’re here, alive, entirely whole and hopeful.
When the sun dawns across the Farm they’ll have to part with quiet promises and intertwined fingers but, for now, it feels as if they have all the time in the world.
xii;
Hawthorne shifts minutely in her crouch, hidden behind the broken remains of a wall. They’re waiting for Taevas’ signal, already in position around the path they’ll need to clear and hold, and her fingers instinctively check the holster at her hip for Sunshot (it’s still there, of course, as it has been the last ten times she’s checked). Her comm is turned almost all the way down, but Unelema’s voice still startles her when he yells out the signal a few moments later.
“Zavala, the weapon is destroyed! Start the attack!”
The connection cuts a moment later, but she swears she can hear the loud hissing of pure heat over the comm, and she refuses to think of it. She looks over to Cayde who grins, releasing Colonel out onto the street. A passing Centurion stares down at the animal, growling in its language and aiming it’s Bronto Cannon. A beat passes, before Cayde launches out from behind the Cabal and leaps onto its back, jamming a knife into the lighter armour protecting its neck. It falls quickly, like all the others he’s dispatched with this unconventional method, and they scan the area before moving on.
Through the comms the Vanguard confirm their positions, before a series of explosions echoes through, the view on her scope showing that Ikora has started her section of the attack, and they push forward.
She watches as Zavala, Commander Zavala, whatever, is pushed to the ground by a Legionary, shotgun coming down to point at the Titan’s head. He struggles to shift the Cabal’s weight, and time seems to slow for a moment. Her sniper is in her hands before she knows it.
Click.
She turns off the safety.
Click.
Her eyes focus on the scope, fingers twitching over the trigger.
Click.
She pulls the trigger.
The Legionary’s head explodes in a mass of smoke, crumbling to the ground as time resumes its regular pace. She fires again, heading towards the Titan, helping him up and huffing with the effort. “What’s it with you Guardians and falling down all the time?” She jokes, hoping to disperse some of the tension.
“Where’s Cayde?” He asks in response, and Hawthorne easily identifies the tinge of worry in his tone.
“Well, if he’s sticking to the plan…” She peers through her sniper’s scope, then nods. “He’s right where he needs to be. Now we just need to get you and Ikora up there with him.” An energy barrier flickers to life before them, and she huffs in frustration. “I’ll handle this, you need to get moving.” Their eyes meet, and they share a tense smile.
“Good luck, Guardian.”
He’s off immediately, and Suraya shakes her head minutely, trying to ignore how accepted she feels. There’ll be time to sort out this weird kind-of-family she seems to have acquired later on. For now, there’s a barrier network for her to hack.
--
It feels like an age later when Unelema’s voice cuts through on the comms again.
Hawthorne’s fingers stall for a moment over the terminal keyboard, before the Ghost’s voice is cut off by what sounds like a rocket blast, and she instinctually tenses, gripping tightly onto the edge of the device. A beat of silence passes, in which Suraya swears she can hear her blood pulsing in her ears and her heart beating in her chest.
“Taevas! Are you still with us?” It’s Zavala’s voice, and thankfully a reply is almost immediate.
“We’re fine, but – the Traveler…” The Ghost’s voice is worried, and his words come out far quicker than he’d probably intended.
“That’s why we’re here. To stop this madness.” She thinks a line like that calls for a dramatic pause of some kind, but Zavala presses on. “Ikora and I are converging on the rally point, Cayde’s already there.”
“We’ll use the Vex teleporter to jump to the Traveler,” Ikora adds, voice strangely contemplative. “If we make it there alive.” Unelema comforts her, and she takes over the comms.
Her tone is familiar, but entirely professional, keeping her message succinct. “Red Legion’s using these energy barriers to funnel us into kill boxes. I can hack into the grid and knock it down for short stretches. Standby.” She pauses, almost losing her nerve and clicking off her comm, but finally adding; “Love you, Moon.”
The voice that replies is quiet, but warm, and undoubtedly alive. “I love you too, Sura.”
It’s then that the Cabal interrupts their comm system, effectively cutting every group off from the others. She bites down the awful feeling in her gut that those three words might be the last thing she ever tells Tae, and instead focuses on keeping her team alive. There’s not much more she can do, now.
--
Her team are passing through a system of alleyways, later, when the toes of her boot connect with something small and metal on the rubble-covered road. Against her better judgement, she looks down, expecting to find a corpse of some description, but instead finding… a Ghost.
Its shell is white and blue, covered in ash and dirt, and Suraya drops down to scoop up the robot. It feels cold and heavy in her hands, unlike Unelema in every way, and she tucks it away in one of her poncho’s pockets. There’s probably a Ghost burial ritual or something they can do later, but right now she has more pressing problems.
---
Something’s not right.
She’s been on edge for the past ten minutes, some instinct-driven part of her brain screaming at her as a loud sound she can only describe as a compressed rush of air echoes through the sky, drawing her eyes upward. Against the black and red shape of the Traveler she can see a figure, seemingly made of light, wings spreading out behind it. She closes her eyes in resignation, all but accepting their fates now, as a booming voice carries across the sky.
“Traveler! Do you see me now? I am immortal. A god! You have failed! Witness the dawning of a new age!”
Then there’s a sound that’s almost ethereal, a hummed melody that reverberates through her body, and she opens her eyes to see pinpricks of light chip away at the dark shell covering the Traveler.
“You.. do.. see me.”
The same powerful voice screams in agony as a crack pierces the air, then- the Traveler explodes.
There’s the same rushing of blood in her ears and heartbeat in her brain, pure heat rushing through her veins in a strangely calming fashion. A gasp escapes her lips as her vision is overcome by white, ears ringing and flesh erupting in goosebumps before she’s jolted back into reality, breathing heavily as one of the civilians on her team hovers over her crouched form in concern.
A presence draws her eyes upwards, to meet a very alive Ghost, white and blue shell marking the one she’d found earlier, single eye somehow displaying its shock well. “You’re… my Guardian.” She can’t reply, for her throat feels scorched and her breathing refuses to calm, but she soon finds that she doesn’t need to, for everyone around her – tired civilians and over-energized Guardians alike, turn to face the Traveler, in a mix of joyous wonder and clear trepidation.
The Vanguard step up first, their silhouettes clear against the bright light, all three of them standing tall on the rooftop of a nearby building. And then, above them - dropping down from the ship above, framed by the Traveler – stands Taevas, glowing in the darkness as she raises a fist into the air as a clear sign of victory.
She’s okay.
They’re okay.
xiii;
Her body still feels racked with flames by the time she reaches Tae, weaving through crowds until they notice each other and sprint together, Suraya burying her head against the Awoken’s chest. She’s only partly aware of the tears she’s staining the other’s shoulder with and tries her best to ignore the spots of wetness she can feel drip onto the top of her head.
After a few moments, they part, Suraya blinking up at Taevas. They share a genuine, relieved smile, before the moment promptly ends when the Awoken notices the Ghost hovering over Hawthorne’s shoulder. Her amber eyes flicker between the robot and the other woman, confusion visible on her face. “Oh yeah I-“ She coughs out a bit more of the imaginary smoke from her lungs, and Taevas sets a comforting hand on her forearm. “I found a Ghost.”
The robot speaks up, voice feminine and surprisingly warm. “I’m Flüchtige- I’m- supposed to be her Ghost.”
Unelema blinks into existence and whirrs up to greet her, and the two women smile tiredly at each other.
This is going to take some time to figure out.
--
Hawthorne sighs, pulling the material of her poncho tighter around her cold arms. She’d only had the foresight to grab the garment and pull it over her sleep clothes (alongside her boots, of course) before escaping to yet another roof, and while it does help to keep away some of the chills, she wishes that she’d layered more.
Not that it really matters, considering the heat surging through her veins.
Tae had insisted to her, earlier, that it was normal to be weirded out by the Light at first. That she’d get used to the power thrumming beneath her skin and pooling at her fingertips, the buzz of energy in her head, but she’s not convinced. As far as anyone is aware, Suraya is the first and only Guardian (damn, it’s weird to label herself that) to be reborn while already alive with intact memories, so nobody is really sure how long it’ll take her to adjust.
She doesn’t attempt to warm herself with her newfound powers, nor does she try to calm them like Tae had suggested, not wanting to risk setting half of the Farm on fire. So instead she stares up at the night sky, letting the silence calm her nerves. After a while she feels a tug on her mind, Flüchtige (her Ghost, she corrects) appearing beside her. The Ghost hovers over Suraya’s lap, shell tilted down, voice tinged with sadness when she speaks. “You don’t like me.”
At that statement Hawthorne’s head jerks down, refusal on the tip of her tongue when her brain catches up to her and she relaxes slightly, letting out a deep breath. “No, I do, I just-.” She chews on her lower lip, fingers knitting together. “I like you, Tige. I’m just really not used to this whole Guardian thing, as you can probably tell. I need a while to get to grips with it.”
Flüchtige floats onto her open palm at her confession, the metal of her shell surprisingly warm against her skin. “I like you too, I can see why the Traveler chose you. We can figure this out.” Suraya smiles down at her, running a thumb against the Ghost.
“I suppose we have all the time in the world, now.”
The robot looks up at her, optic blinking. The tint of sadness is gone from her voice when she speaks, voice warm and hopeful instead. “Tell me about you.”
Hawthorne laughs – “I’m not that interesting, I’m afraid.”
“I haven’t known you for that long, but I can already tell that that’s not true.” Her Ghost replies. “What was your early life like?”
“I can’t remember much that far back, but somehow I ended up in a City orphanage as one of the unadoptable kids. Anger issues, misbehaved, no friends, the usual. Statistics said I shouldn’t have ever been adopted, but one day, when I was eight or so, two men came to the orphanage. Didn’t pay them much mind at first, but then they approached me.” She’s aware that there’s a stupidly wide grin on her face, but she can’t bring herself to care. “I didn’t believe that they were there for me, at first. Thought there must’ve been some mistake. But then they took me home, and-“ A frown flits across her features. “Things were good. For a while.”
Tige nudges against her palm as a gesture of comfort. “I started redistributing resources, let’s say. Stealing from the Factions to help the people who really needed it. Got caught by Executor Hideo one day, the leader of New Monarchy, and he starts rattling off some nonsense about hierarchy and societal order, so I responded in the only way I knew how.” She stifles a laugh. “Socked him in his dumbass face. After that, he started threatening Dev and Marc, my dads, so I had to leave. To protect them, y’know. Ended up outside the City for most of my adult life, and here I am today.”
She jumps when Tae announces her presence by setting a hand on her shoulder, and she responds by smiling at the Awoken. “Why’re you up?”
“Bed felt empty; I could ask you the same thing.”
“Can’t sleep, my brain doesn’t wanna shut up.”
“I suppose that’s to be expected.”
They sit in silence for a while, simply content in each other’s presence, before she speaks up again. “How do you channel your light?”
Tae smiles softly, and offers her partner her palms, facing upwards. Cautiously, she lays her hands atop the Awoken’s and closes her eyes as she feels a soft tugging at her mind.
And then there’s a voice.
“Can you hear me?” It asks, and after a moment she recognises it as Tae’s voice, rich and powerful while somehow soft and breathy.
“Yeah- how in the hells do you do this stuff Taea?” She replies, somehow.
There’s a little laugh in response, both in this strange bond-talk and in the physical realm. “I’m not really sure myself, Ikora has all but given up on trying to explain it. Regardless, do you have any weapon you think you could channel your Light through? It’s far easier to start that way, rather than jumping into form creation.”
Suraya pauses- “I have my knives, I suppose?” Tige transmatts them into her hands, sandwiched between their palms.
“Now focus only on the knives. Let everything else fade away. Visualise flames along the blade edge, picture the heat against your palms, dancing across your skin.”
Her hands feel warm, a somehow pleasant sensation, and when she opens her eyes there’s flames dancing along the sharp edge.
“I – can’t believe it.” The flames withdraw and Suraya leans against the other Guardian, who pulls her closer with one arm. Blue lips smile at her when their eyes meet, and she can feel sleep finally claiming her. “You’re a good teacher… y’know.” Tired fingers reach up to poke the Awoken’s cheek, and Tae catches her hand, pressing a kiss against tanned fingers.
“Sleep, Sura.”
xiv;
It’s the next morning, after the sun has started its ascent into the sky, when she wakes again. She’s back in Tae’s bed, somehow (she’s pretty sure she fell asleep on the roof last night), while the Awoken busies herself with brewing a kettle of tea across the room. The warm light of early morning shines through the one functional window, casting the space in hues of orange and amber, and Tige bumps against her side when she stirs properly. Tae wanders over and she props herself up, taking the offered cup of tea and letting her eyes close in contentment.
“What time is it?” She asks, watching as the other Guardian has her armour transmatted in, obviously ready to get going.
“Six.” Is the signed response, and Suraya groans slightly, startling Tae. “There’s a lot we have to sort out today.”
“Yeah I know, my body just doesn’t want to wake up.” At the look the Awoken gives her – “Give me a moment.”
Tae smiles, sitting down at the end of the bed and laying her cloak on her lap, taking out a needle and thread. Unelema transmatts in a long, thick strip of silky red fabric and she positions it to the left of her cape, the width of crimson hanging lower than the cut-off of the black fabric. She starts to stitch on the accent while Suraya slowly rouses properly, finishing off the tea and grimacing through the odd sensation of Tige switching her clothing to her regular attire through transmat.
“What’s that red mean?” She asks curiously, hopping off the bed just as Taevas finishes her work, holding up the expanse of fabric as if to study it.
Unelema chimes in – “It’s from Ghaul. He had these weird ribbon things, like an unfinished cape or something, and what’s a better way to scare off the Legion than wearing something taken from their leaders’ corpse?”
Tae laughs and sets the cape into place around her shoulders, signing; “Way to make this sound morbid, El.”
“Well, it kind of is.” The Ghost makes a sound close to a snort, before bumping affectionately into the Awoken’s forehead. “I wouldn’t take you any other way.”
Suraya sheaths her knives at her waist, offering her hand to Taevas. “Where are we needed?”
“Zavala’s called a meeting for seven in the Barn, and Devrim is coming over from Trostland this afternoon. Thought you’d want to get some breakfast first.” She nods and leans against Tae, making a content sound in her throat.
“We best get going then.”
--
It’s an hour later that the Vanguard starts to filter into the Barn. Ikora is first, then Cayde and Zavala (at the same time, together, suspiciously), the three women in the room sharing knowing looks. The Commander clears his throat, redirecting their focus towards whatever it is he wishes to talk about. Tae’s hand is solid against Suraya’s own as Zavala thanks them for their efforts the night before, running through the bare bones plan they have for the future.
Maintaining the Farm, both as a temporary refugee camp and a long-term human centre, is their top priority. It will take time to reclaim the City from the remnant Cabal forces, even longer to repair the devastation, and, in the meantime, the Farm is the best bet to keep humanity safe. City reconstruction will focus on major population structures and vital infrastructure, and the inference is clear – make sure the people have a safe, secure and fulfilling place to live.
“Establishing contact with the factions is also a pressing matter.” Suraya raises an eyebrow, and she can feel Tae give her hand a reassuring squeeze. “They have access to large quantities of resources that will greatly aid our efforts, and I have already managed to contact Executor Hideo of New Monarchy. Which reminds me..” Zavala turns to face her, and she shifts upwards, correcting her posture. “I understand that the two of you have some.. history.”
Suraya separates her hand from her partners with a final squeeze, before leaning forward and bracing her arms on the central table. “I’d presume it’s all in my file.”
“It is.” The Commander acknowledges. “But I’d like to hear it from you.”
She shrugs, just as Louis flies in and settles on her outstretched arm. “You need to understand, Zavala, that the factions do nothing for the people of the City. People in the Lower City have nothing more than the clothes on their back, and sometimes not even that. I’ve seen it all first hand.” Louis hops onto her shoulder, watching the Vanguard before them with careful eyes. “Most of those assault charges were protecting people. You ever seen a mob of Monarchy lackeys swarm a civilian?” The silence gives her an answer. “Once saw a young boy, 8 or so, shot before I could reach him. His crime? Stealing a book from a Monarchy officer. He wanted to learn how to read, and he was murdered for it. I was 15 when I carried his body back to his parents and baby sister.”
She pulls down the fabric of her poncho around her neck, revealing a perfectly symmetrical, circular scar. “Future War Cult shot – got caught stealing supplies to help the starving parents of five down the street. I’ve had multiple broken bones from the Factions, including when I had to ‘assault’ Hideo.” She rubs her right fist with the fingers of her other hand, the inferred meaning clear. “I guess it isn’t on file that he was threatening me?”
The room is silent when she leans against the table once again. “I was never technically allowed to leave the City, but I had no choice. There was a very clear implication that, if I were to remain, things would start ‘going wrong’ for my parents. The factions controlled the City. If you went against them, you started having issues. Or worse, you’d disappear.”
Taevas approaches behind her, setting a comforting hand on Suraya’s shoulder. “Does that address your concerns, Commander?”
Zavala chuckles – a deep, baritone sound. “Indeed it does.” Louis hops over onto Taevas’ shoulder, and the Awoken busies herself with petting him, the falcon leaning into her gentle touch. “I presume you aren’t too keen on returning, then.”
She shrugs, earning a look from Tae. “Depends.” Honestly, she’s been struggling with her future plans ever since her relationship with Tae developed. At first, she saw her role as temporary, until the refugees were safe and someone else could take over. And, after all, she doesn’t particularly want to confine herself to the City, but the thought of leaving her w- whatever they are- behind tenses up her chest and sends a pang of hurt through her heart. And then there’s Tige, and questions about what she is now, Guardian or not. “The City hasn’t been my home for a long time.”
“Could it be your home now?”
She crosses her arms – “Why, do you want it to be?”
“The civilians look up to you. You’re a natural leader to them, and we’ll need that connection in the coming months.” She raises an eyebrow, questioningly.
“What would my role be?”
“Clan steward? Liaison for humanity? We’ll need to work out the exact details.”
Suraya pauses for a moment, until Tae sets an arm around her back, and she returns the unspoken words by wrapping an arm around the Awoken’s waist. “I imagine we can work something out.”
xv;
It’s around noon when Devrim finally arrives. Taevas and Hawthorne are leaning against each other on the latter’s usual perch, with a sandwich each, simply allowing themselves to relax in the daytime warmth. Suraya smiles, passing a piece of crust to Louis who crows out quietly in thanks. They haven’t made any official announcements about their relationship yet, but there’s an agreement between the two of them that it isn’t a secret. The teasing from Cayde and Amanda, plus the warm looks and questioning glances sent their way confirms to them that most people already know, or at least have some suspicions.
It’s nice to be this openly affectionate with someone, she thinks, as her partner taps her shoulder and nods to an incoming ship. She finishes off her meal and jumps to the ground, Tae following her, and their hands find each other’s once again, tan and cerulean fingers linking together as they walk. By the time they reach the ship a familiar head of greying hair pokes up from behind the hull, offering her a grin when she jogs over, pulling him into a tight hug. “’m glad you’re okay.”
He laughs, patting her on the head as he used to when she was younger. “Why wouldn’t I be? You wouldn’t let me go into the field.”
“Yeah ‘cause I needed you here if everything went to shit, you know that. Thought you’d be glad. You’re getting too old for proper combat.”
“Too old!” Is the mock-offended response. She can feel Tige transmat in by her shoulder, and Tae approaches behind her with Unelema, a beat of silence passing between them. “Whose ghost is that?” She bites her lower lip, trying to figure out how to explain. “Suraya…”
“She’s mine. Look, I think we need to find somewhere to talk, properly.”
--
They find the privacy they need near the Farm’s borders, propped up on an old fence with a panning view of the EDZ before them. “So you’re telling me you’re a Guardian now.”
“Yeah, kinda?” She replies, unsure. “We’re still really trying to figure it out ourselves.”
“Well, at least I was right about one thing.” He chuckles – “You’ve always been a Hunter.”
“Who said I’m a Hunter?”
“What other class would you be? You’re certainly no Warlock.” Taevas sets her hand over Suraya’s where it rests on the fence, and she leans against the Awoken’s shoulder. Devrim grins over at her – “You finally figured it out.”
Hawthorne shrugs – “Tae was the one to get of her ass and do something ‘bout it.”
Tae smiles over at her, bringing Suraya’s hand to her lips and pressing a kiss against her fingers - Devrim’s grin only grows. “Marc is going to be hurt if you don’t let him plan your wedding, y’know.”
--
It’s many hours later, with the full moon shining above the Farm, that Suraya and Tige are finally alone again.
The day has been long – through organising teams to start clearing the City, to casualty reports and everything in between – and by now she’s almost ready to fall asleep. But Tae had insisted in going off to the Dark Forest, alone, pressing a large box into Hawthorne’s arms with a knowing smile and promising to be back by dawn-break. The box – currently sat in front of her, on her (their?) bedroom floor, is beautiful, really. It’s dark wood, intricately carved, slightly worn but still obviously very well cared for.
She carefully undos the lock system and opens the lid, frowning as it’s contents are revealed. It’s rows upon rows of little bottles, with a couple of smaller boxes nested inside. Lifting up one of the pots, she realises what they are – paints. The one she’d picked up – a deep, slightly dulled blue colour – is labelled Prussian Blue in the tight neat script she identifies as Tae’s, and she slots it back into place, studying the bottles before her by the swatches of colour on their lids.
A small piece of folded parchment is tucked into a space at the edge of the box and she unfurls it, revealing more of the same black cursive;
“Dear Suraya,
It’s a tradition for Guardians to paint their ghost’s shell after a few days together, and I thought you’d like to use some of my paints for it. Tige should be able to help you set her pattern, so just pick a colour or two that you think matches her.
Love you, Taevas.”
She shakes her head in mock exasperation as Tige floats over and lightly bumps into her shoulder (they’re still adjusting to being affectionate with each-other) then floats down onto her Guardian’s lap.
“I have one I think you’ll like.” Her Ghost says softly, and Suraya looks down to see the pattern on her shell shift, still in the same tones of white and blue. She scoops up her companion, finding the new design to be some kind of an outline of a wilderness scene – the bottom ridges are decorated with snow-topped mountains, simplified trees slotted into place below them. There’s a sky too – sun and clouds, little birds in flight.
She smiles down at her Ghost. “It’s perfect, thank you Tige.” Leaning over to look at the selection of paints, she picks out a few colours – a light, steel blue for the sky, grey for the mountains and a soft orange for the sun. Then a white – a strange, slightly chrome white with tiny hints of pink and gold – for the outlines. Rummaging through the smaller boxes, she finds a set of soft brushes, and she picks out a couple, before turning back to her Ghost. “How do I-“
Tige seems to understand her unspoken question, nudging Hawthorne’s palm slightly with a spine. “Just take whatever paint you want to use and dip the brush in there.” Following her instruction, she unscrews the cap from the blue – Sky, it’s label aptly reads – and dips the brush in, as she’s seen Taevas do before. “And then just paint where you want it, you’ll see.” She does just that – cautiously brushing the tone across the metal of Tige’s shell and watching in awe as it spreads by itself, evenly covering the surface in a perfect layer.
“How?”
Tige shrugs as well as she can, considering her lack of shoulders. “Nobody really questions it. We can change our shaders ourselves, but most of the time our Guardians paint us. As a show of friendship.”
Hawthorne is still awed as she finishes her work, and by the end Tige floats up above her palm, spines of her shell twirling about as she seemingly inspects it. “I love it, thank you Suraya!” She chirps, and the Hunter smiles upon hearing her Ghost say her name for the first time.
That night she doesn’t sleep very well, watching the Shard and it’s Forest as she flicks through reports, waiting for Taevas to come home while Tige rests by her side.
But, she thinks, it’s going to be okay.
xvi;
It’s been a little while since the Assault when Suraya gets a call from Devrim.
He’d gone into the City the other day, intent on bringing Marc back to the Farm as soon as possible, and, according to the report she’d read probably five times over, had found him in one of the inner City emergency bunkers. It’d been a moment of pure relief when she’d initially got the report soon, but now dread wells up within her. Not only has she not spoken to Marc in years, but she’s also going to have to deal with hundreds of questions about her and Tae’s relationship. Her dad is far too romantic, and there’s no way Dev hasn’t told him yet.
When her comm rings she takes a deep, steadying breath, and answers. “Dad?”
“Suraya! It’s so good to hear from you.” Its Marc’s voice – joyful and overexcited, as always. “I hear you have a lot of stories to tell me.”
She laughs – nervously – fingers picking at the skin of her arm. “That’s.. uh. One way of putting it.”
Marc carries on, undeterred. “I hope I’m going to meet this girlfriend of yours soon, I’ve heard so much about her! Of course, you of all people would properly find someone the one time I can’t interrogate them.”
“Please don’t interrogate her.”
“Oh but I have to. Especially with your track record of partners.”
“Dad, please.”
Dev takes over the call again – “Sorry about that, you know how he gets.”
“Too well.”
“He does have a point though, and you know he won’t give up till he meets her.”
She sighs in defeat. “Send me a time.”
--
It’s a wonder that a restaurant is even open in the City at this point, Suraya thinks, but it’s good for the purposes of this meeting, at least. They arrive first, before her dads, taking a table next to the big, old-style windows. She doesn’t particularly like being exposed to a major security vulnerability like a traditional window, but she knows Tae is comforted by the view of open space.
And right now Tae needs any comfort Suraya can provide her with. She sees the other Hunter’s eyes occasionally flicker around, feels her fingers flex against Suraya’s own where their hands are linked. Taevas might not allow herself to display her emotions that much, but as soon as you spend enough time around her to learn her tells, the little movements start to make sense.
“Relax,” she murmurs. “He’ll love you. He has to.”
Tae makes a non-committal sound and instead goes back to watching the room, Suraya continuing to offer silent comfort by rubbing circles into cerulean knuckles.
The sound of the entrance doors opening has them both turning their heads, and Suraya stands to return the hug offered to her by Marc. “Look at you! You’re all grown up!” He exclaims, and she wrinkles her nose in disgust.
When he notices Taevas, his attention shifts. “You must be Taevas.” Tae tenses a little, offering him a curt nod and her hand to shake. He laughs heartily – “There’s no need for any of that unless you already have something to apologise for.”
Tae seems startled by the idea, simultaneously twitching and shaking her head vigorously as if offended by the very suggestion.
“Dad, please. You’re already creeping her out.”
When they take a seat and order, Suraya keeps her hand linked with Tae’s. Marc quickly takes to asking the Awoken simpler questions that she can answer with a nod or head shake, or by signing and getting her to translate. It really isn’t an ideal arrangement, but Marc seems satisfied that Tae isn’t a prick like most of her past partners.
“So what’s the plan for the future?” He asks her, and she shrugs.
“City restoration, obviously. Transferring those who want to leave the Farm back over.”
“You know that’s not what I meant. What're the future plans for both of you?”
“Zavala’s offered me a position as leader of the Clans, so we’re probably going to settle in the City, the new Tower if there’s going to be one. And from there… we’ll figure it out as we go along, I suppose.”
“Still hate plans?”
“More… an improviser. Besides, it’s worked pretty well for me so far.” She smiles over at Tae, her meaning clear.
--
That night, under a canopy of a thousand stars, the topic comes up again.
She’s leant against Tae’s shoulder as the Awoken creates messy braids in her curls when her mind drifts back to the conversation from earlier.
“What are we going to do when the City is rebuilt?”
Tae frowns down at her, before signing – “We’ll figure it out as we go along as you said.”
“Yeah but-“ She makes a frustrated sound. “I’m probably gonna have to stay at the Tower a lot, or at least I presume so, and I don’t wanna hold you back. I don’t want you to end up staying in the City just to please me.”
“I’ve seen the System. I’ve seen the stars. I never found meaning out there, no matter how many planets I visited, enemies I killed. I never felt home.”
The Awoken’s hand comes up to rest on her cheek. “I’m done playing the hero. I’ve found my home.”
xvii;
It’s been approaching half a year since the War’s end when the new Tower is finally completed.
The construction had been put behind other, more essential reconstruction efforts – of key infrastructure, housing for personnel, the reestablishment of water and electricity grids – but even Suraya understands the symbolism of the Tower. It’s a beacon, a representation of the Guardians and the guidance they provide.
When the new Tower is finally opened, it’s a day of celebration. Guardians come in from across the System, Lightbearers and civilians alike sharing in the warmth of this new age, of the security it provides. Of finally being home.
She finds Tae in the midst of a group of civilians, all awed by the presence of the great Hero of the War. Suraya can tell she’s being asked a flurry of questions, Unelema fluttering over her shoulder and doing her best to answer them all. It’s comforting to see Taevas like this – safe, at ease. Comfortable with her environment and most importantly herself.
She sneaks up behind the other Hunter, carefully placing one of the decorative flower crowns being passed round atop her head. Tae smiles over at her, intertwining their hands as the remaining civilians wander off, aside from a small gaggle of still-awed children.
“Are you a Guardian too?” One of them asks, pushing forward to the front of the group. When she nods, the child grins. “Can we see your robot?”
Prompted, Tige pops into existence above her shoulder and drifts down to greet the children. “I’m Tige!” She chirps happily, dropping down to allow them to get a better look. “It’s nice to meet you!” The child who’d spoken up earlier carefully reaches out to brush Tige’s frame, grin growing when the Ghost accepts the contact.
Another of the children turns to the pair of Guardians who watch them. “Do you have magic?”
Suraya isn’t sure how to respond to that, still not confident enough with channelling her Light to use it around vulnerable children. Instead, she looks over at Tae, who crouches down as the remaining children push forward to crowd around her.
Familiar lightning spreads in fractals against her skin, pulsing Light crackling against the natural glow of her Awoken complexion. The Light gathers in her palm, forming an ethereal sphere of blue-white energy.
The children’s eyes grow ‘til they’re the size of saucers, watching in awe as the Light coalesces into the form of the Traveler, then transforming into a Ghost, then a heavenly bird. Suraya smiles as she watches them interact, slightly awed alongside the children.
--
Tae nudges her slightly when her brain autopilots the route to their ship, tugging on her hand to direct her attention.
Instead of following the familiar route to the Wanderwing, Tae leads her to what Suraya knows are the new barracks, her brain stuttering slightly at the realisation. “Taea…” She trails off as they stop in front of a door, the Awoken turning to her and gesturing for her to close her eyes. She does so, and after a moment she can hear the whoosh of an opening door and a tap on her shoulder.
She opens her eyes.
The first thing she sees is Taevas, standing slightly nervously. Then she takes in the rest of the room.
Directly in front of her is a small living area, soft brown and blue chairs and a sofa gathered around a tv with large windows draped in curtains providing a beautiful view of the City. She turns to Tae, still shocked, the other Hunter retaking her hand reassuringly. She’s lead through an archway to a kitchen/diner, dark wood and light tile against soft grey walls that frame the small kitchen and well-sized dining table. A small bathroom, next, then back into the hallway.
It’s only then that Suraya notices some more of the decoration – plants grace nearly every surface, while a sideboard is topped with a couple unpacked boxes and small mementos. A bookshelf fills a nook in the passage, already stacked with ancient-looking tomes and newer datapads. It feels like home already, she realises.
A spare bedroom, still spartan in its decoration. A small study. And finally, their room.
She’d describe it as huge, but it’s not, really. Large windows line the two outer facing walls, including a door out to a balcony. An expansive bed is tucked into one corner, low to the ground and already piled with Tae’s favoured soft blankets and pillows. A television is set into place above a dark-wood dresser, while a plush armchair faces out the curtained windows. Soft grey walls are already mounted with paintings, which she realises happily are Tae’s own works. The carpet beneath her feet is soft, dark grey, beautifully warm.
Through the windows she can watch as the sun sets over the City, framing the Traveler in rings of familiar amber and gold.
Tae comes to stand by her side, the Awoken shifting nervously. “Do you like it?” She asks in a quiet tone, and Suraya grins.
“It’s perfect, Taea.” The other Hunter’s hands come to rest around her waist, and she twists in the embrace to face up at Tae. “We’re finally home.”
Tae leans forward to connect their lips, and they part after a moment. The Awoken relinquishes her hold on Suraya’s waist to sign, but Hawthorne remains pressed against the other. “Home is wherever you are.”
Suraya snorts – unladylike, she knows, but that never concerned her before – and wraps her arms around the other Guardian’s neck. “Of all the people in the cosmos to make you cheesy, it had to be me, didn’t it?”
Tae smiles down at her – a beautiful radiant thing, filled to the brim with pure emotion. “Who else?”
xviii;
Suraya carefully shifts in bed, careful not to jostle Tae too much from where their limbs are intertwined, nor where the Awoken’s arms wrapped protectively around her. Once detangled from her lover, she slips out from under the thick layers of blankets and quilts, she quietly pads out of the room.
She lets out a quiet sign of relief at seeing Louis on his perch, napping contently after his hunt. The transition from the Wilds to the City has been hard on them both – it’s their home, after all – but he seems to be adjusting. Slowly, at least.
Herself, on the other hand?
She’s not sure – the increased safety is welcome, in the very least, but at what expense? Never before has she felt so confined, so trapped. And while her opinions of the City have improved recently, she still stands by some of her older beliefs.
You know what also has walls, that you can’t leave?
She properly comes to when she feels a fat droplet of water hit her cheek, and she looks up. She’s somehow made her way to the balcony that annexes their room, letting the harsh winds and stormy weather calm her.
Out here she can pretend, at least – pretend that the smell of rain and the reddening of her cheeks against the biting winds is enough of a substitute for the burn of the Wilds. She sighs deeply, before heading back inside to get dressed properly, slinging her poncho over her shoulders, holstering sunshot at her waist and pressing a kiss to Taevas’ forehead.
Once she takes the elevator down the Tower and the apartments lining its floors, she steps out into the City. While a lot of it is still in ruin, most of the central areas surrounding the Tower are fully reconstructed now.
There aren’t many people out – a combination of the late timing and the bad weather – but she doesn’t mind. She traces streets outwards, past partially reconstructed buildings and out into the proper ruins, before she reaches the Wall.
The FotC stationed at the top of the Wall pay her no mind once Tige shimmers into existence to trail her over the shoulder. She pauses at the railing, leaning heavily on it as she watches the rain drench the Wilds.
“Wanna talk about it?” A voice asks – Tige’s – as her Ghost hovers, the flicker of her shell somehow portraying her worry.
“’s nothing.”
Tige’s shell manoeuvres in an obvious show of that’s bullshit before nudging against her wet cheek. “You feel trapped.”
She huffs – “… yeah.”
“Why’d you agree to stay here?”
“I dunno.” She shifts uncomfortably. “I didn’t wanna risk being separated from Tae.”
“She would’ve followed you anywhere.”
“Yeah, but.. This is where she feels safest. And above anything I want her to feel safe, be safe. Does that make sense?”
Her Ghost chirps happily, bumping against her shoulder. “I’m glad you’re happy. I always worried that my Guardian would be lonely – and, well, my first one was.”
“You never told me about the one you had before..”
Her shell droops sadly, and Suraya reaches over to gently poke the tip of a spine affectionately. “I failed him.”
“If you were anywhere near as good to him as you are to me, then no, you didn’t.”
A sound comes through Tige’s speaker that sounds almost like a sniffle, and Hawthorne holds out her palm to let the little robot nest her shell there. “His name was Beverick. Beverick-9. I found him in the depths of the EDZ, after a lifetime of searching.”
Suraya keeps focused on the Ghost in her hands, rubbing little reassuring circles into coloured metal as Tige continues. “He was a Hunter, too. Had issues with other people, so we kept to ourselves. Carved out a place for ourselves away from the other Guardians, tried our best to find meaning.”
“How’d you end up in the City, then?”
“When the invasion happened and we got the emergency broadcast, he rushed to help. We were in the City within the hour. Then we lost the Light…”
Tige trails off, and Hawthorne holds her Light to her chest, in a hopefully comforting gesture. “You didn’t fail him.”
“But..”
“Ah, ah, no. Listen. A lot of people died that day, a lot of innocent people, a lot of people I once knew. I used to blame the Guardians for it, back in the early War. Magical space powers for what? Didn’t save anybody… But that was wrong of me.”
She holds up Tige, affixing her with a look to prove to her Ghost that she’s serious. “The only things at fault for the Fall were the Legion. And they’ve paid for it and will continue to pay for it. His death was as much your fault as mine, or Zavala’s, or any of the people in this City.”
Tige’s voice sounds strained like if she could be she’d be on the edge of tears, or perhaps crying already. “I don’t want to fail you.”
“You won’t.” She promises.
--
She nudges open the door to her apartment, careful not to make to much noise. Not that it matters, considering Tae is already up.
The Awoken sits crosslegged on the sofa with a view of the City, the golden rays of dawn washing over her skin matching the tone of her eyes. Those eyes flicker to meet her when she shrugs off her poncho and discards it on the back of a chair.
“You’re back late.”
Suraya makes a non-committal sound, wrapping her arms around the other Hunter’s shoulders as she leans over the back of the sofa. “Didn’t mean to worry you, sorry. Just needed a bit of space to think.”
“I know.” At the look Hawthorne gives her – “Tige sent a message. Figured you’d be back when you felt comfortable.”
“Mhmm, love you.”
“I’d hope so. Your tea’s on the side.”
xix;
Suraya hates the idea of this Restoration ball.
It sounds stupid, quite frankly. A waste of money just so people who hate each other and had no role in the War can make idle conversation and wear fancy clothes. Unfortunately for her, however, her role in the War and afterwards, plus Taevas’ rank, means that she pretty much has to attend.
Before the full-length mirror in Ikora’s apartment, she can hardly recognise herself. Her outfit is over the top, yes, but still beautiful and somehow still her (as much as a formal dress can be).
Eva made it herself, and it shows – a deep purple dress tied tightly around her waist and draping over her legs, soft golden constellations sewed into the lower skirt. A cape wraps around one exposed shoulder, beautiful white, purple and gold layers that drift to the floor in a hem the shape of flower petals.
The headpiece was commissioned elsewhere, but it’s just as stunning – a gold tiara of sorts, handcrafted flowers set into place near the back. And wrapped carefully in intricate gold branches are an identical pair of antlers – genuine, she knows from experience. It’s gaudy, yeah, especially when combined with the simple gold jewellery around her neck and wrists, but the effect is still stunning. Especially with her hair worn in its natural curls around her shoulders, a touch of glitter highlighting her face.
Like this, she looks like some kind of forest fae, like the ones in the pre-Golden Age books Tae has scrounged up for some of the City kids. Maybe that’s thinking too much of herself, but hey, she never really gets the chance to be vain, and if she’s going to have to parade around in fancy dress she might as well embrace it.
There’s a knock at the door which Ikora answers with a knowing smile, and Suraya’s breath catches in her throat at the sight of Tae.
The base of the Awoken’s outfit is rather simple – a white dress shirt and black trousers, but the details are exquisite. The shirt is obviously tailored, fitting perfectly against her frame, arms and the top panel of the torso slightly transparent and patterned with thin golden lines. The cape set over her shoulders isn’t her usual – instead, it’s an expanse of purple that matches the hue of Suraya’s dress, decorated with golden constellations and stars orbiting around her sigil – the sun with a slash across it, this time in shimmering pseudo-metal rather than white.
Taevas looks like a different person, like this. Part of the Awoken royalty, perhaps, or some kind of deity. Though she supposes as they drift together, that is the intended effect. She’ll probably be the centre of attention tonight, though whether that attention is wanted or not is a different matter entirely.
--
The ballroom stretches out before them from their position on the balcony. The size of the room is a frivolity, really, unnecessary in the wake of the War or even after the Collapse, but even Suraya can admit that the effect is stunning.
An outer wall is lined entirely with large windows that provide an expansive view of the City against the darkened night sky, while the room is lit up with lanterns that hang from the ceiling. Most of the space is cleared as a dance area, with most of the remnant crowds lining the walls.
One of Taevas’ hand's links with her own, and they begin their descent down to the main space.
--
Hideo, surprisingly, takes his time in approaching them.
They’ve staked out a small section of wall as their own, aware that many people will want to speak to Tae, to congratulate her, thank her, or get into her good graces and build up a political alliance. No matter the reason, their well-visited for about half an hour, and as Hideo approaches they silently agree that this is the last courtier they’ll entertain. What’s the point of all these fancy outfits if they can’t share a dance, after all.
Suraya tries to mask her displeasure at the man before them with a simple shift to correct her posture, Tae’s hand on her arm tightening reassuringly. Taevas acknowledges him with a nod, prompting him to come forward.
“I must say, Guardian, I’m surprised to see you in attendance. I didn’t pin you as a social attendee type.” He starts, a smug lilt to his voice. “Nor your partner.”
He stares, rather pointedly, straight at Suraya.
The hand on her arm tenses again as a warning to not react, as Taevas braces herself, obviously about to speak.
“Don’t push yourself.” She whispers over at the Awoken.
“Suraya is a Guardian now, Executor, and it would be appropriate for you to treat her as such.”
“As is the rumour. But forgive me for doubting the sense of putting someone so volatile in a position of power.”
Suraya decides then that that’s enough, formulating a response in her mind. “The issues we have should remain between us Hideo. Don’t burn bridges for your pride.”
“Hmph.”
--
The Awoken’s hand rests warm on the small of her back, heating her up as they press closer together to the melody of a beautiful Golden Age song. Suraya smiles up at her partner, grinning at the expression of pure love there.
“For all the people to look at me that way…” She trails off as Taevas pulls her closer and she pushes herself up on her toes to reach the Awoken’s lips. “It had to be you.” Is whispered into Tae’s lips as they part.
“Forever,” Tae responds quietly.
Suraya nods in assent, smiling softly. “Forever.”
xx;
They’re sat against each other in bed, Tae’s wrapped around her back with fingers carding through her hair until the hand in her curls withdraws and comes into her sight.
“You know what Marc said..”
“He says a lot of things.”
“About… that.” Suraya can hear a huff of frustration against her neck, feels the tickling of soft breath. “Would you ever… want to get married? Properly?”
Her breath catches in her throat, and she shuffles in Tae’s hold until she’s facing the Awoken. “Are you serious?” At the tiny nod of Tae’s head – “Of fucking course!”
She practically barrels against her partner’s chest, resulting in them both falling back on the bed, Suraya held against Tae’s chest as they hold onto each other as if their lives depend on it.
“I love you, Moon.” She mumbles into the Awoken’s chest.
“I love you too, Sura.”
--
Suraya takes a deep breath, eyeing the screen before her with equal parts excitement and trepidation. Tae nudges against her, the taller woman’s chin perched atop Hawthorne’s head. “Go on” is signed just within her view, and she reaches out to key in the frequency for her parents.
It rings for a few minutes, which they occupy with Tae messily braiding the back of Suraya’s curls and Hawthorne not admitting how much she loves the feeling.
“You should grow your hair out.” She admits, reaching up to run her fingers over the slight fuzz of her partner’s shaved head just as the call finally connects. They jump apart like guilty teenagers, and Marc’s laughter rings loudly through the connection.
“We can go if you want.” He laughs, and Suraya scowls, though it lifts a little when Tae shifts a cerulean arm to wrap around her waist.
The silence stretches out for a few moments as neither of them is sure what to say, until Taevas signs in front of her. “You want to tell them?”
“What’s going on?” It’s Dev this time, and he sounds concerned, worried, even. Suraya grins, knowing what their reactions will be.
“You know what you said about a wedding, dad?”
Dev only raises an eyebrow, but Marc’s eyes are wide with shock. “You’re serious?”
Suraya grins knowingly. “Don’t get too excited, we haven’t planned anything yet.”
“Hell yes, I’m going to be excited, holy- !”
Dev just watches Marc with an expression of exasperation. “Now you’ve set him off.”
--
It takes two weeks for them to announce it to anyone else.
Taevas is away on a mission, so Cayde is over in their apartment, the Exo sat on the island counter in the kitchen with his legs swinging to and fro. She smacks the metal hand that’s been sneaking closer to the saucepan with the back of a spoon and he attempts a pout, rubbing the affected area as if it’s sore.
She grimaces as he sniffs the sauce on the back of his hand and grins. “Gotta give it to ‘ya Poncho, you can cook.”
“Well someone has to teach you that there’s more to life than ramen.”
“Ah, ah! Ramen is and will always be my first love, don’t make me fight you.”
“I’m telling Zavala that you love pasta more than him.” She points the spoon at him, mock-threateningly.
“You say that like he doesn’t already know.” He laughs, but seemingly deflates a little.
Suraya notices and frowns, distracting herself with dividing up the pasta, meatballs and sauce into two bowls and a larger container. She places Cayde’s bowl beside him on the island and nudges it closer, before propping herself up on the counter.
“For a robot, you sure are bad at hiding your emotions.”
He makes a discontented noise and starts picking at his food, obviously distracted.
“You know, I didn’t cook that just for you to pick at it while angsting away.” She gives him a serious look. “Either eat up or tell me what’s going on with you and Zavala.”
“Nothing… I just.” He grunts, frustrated. “I don’t know.” She raises an eyebrow at him, and he goes back to picking at his food. “I just don’t know if we’re on the same page when it comes to our relationship,” His shoulders sag a little. “You get what I mean?”
“You spoken to him about it?”
He gives her a bewildered look. “That’s your suggestion?”
“Well have you?” He’s silent, which she takes as a no. “Believe me, you’ll never be able to work through any issues you have if you can’t discuss them with him.”
“He’ll think I’m being stupid though. All the problems we have right now, a city in ruins and our ranks pretty much empty, and the thing I’m concerned about is a tiny discrepancy in a relationship?”
“Hey.” She pokes him to get his attention. “Let's be real here, what can you do, at this moment, to fix any of the big issues we’re facing? Nothing. But when you go home you can walk through those doors and walk into your boyfriend’s arms and tell him ‘I love you’ and ask him ‘where do you want this relationship to go’ and I promise you it’ll be fine.”
She pats Cayde on the head and laughs at his thoughtful expression. “Damn I’m getting good at this advice thing.”
The other Hunter offers her a small smile. “Yeah, you’ll be giving even Tae a run for her money soon.”
“Where do you think I get it from? Hell, the only reason I can go off on a spiel about communication is because of what happened the other week.”
Cayde raises a pseudo-eyebrow. “What happened the other week, Poncho?”
She grins, and Cayde leans forward a little. “Tae proposed, Chicken Man.”
“Hey!” He exclaims, Suraya jumping down as he discards his bowl and barrels down to try to grab her. “Her name is Colonel!”
xxi;
Suraya sighs, rubbing at her eyes with the heel of her palm and blinking rapidly to clear the spots on her vision. Something had forced her awake, a nagging feeling of something being wrong that had nudged her out of unconsciousness and into the dark room.
It’s Tae, she realises.
The Awoken is sat across the room from her, turning out to stare out the window with her eyes closed, up at the form of the Traveler where it floats above the City. In the moonlight and Traveler-light Suraya can just about see an object in Taevas’ hands – it’s black, a kind of concave shape and about the size of her face.
She stands, carefully, shifting off the layers of blankets that were atop her and pads over to where her wife sits. Now she’s closer, she can properly identify the object. It’s a mask, she realises (with equal parts fear and relief), smooth with sharp edges and shining black in the moonlight. Cerulean fingers trace lightly over the edge of the surface, shaking slightly before stilling as Tae opens her eyes.
For a moment Suraya swears that they glowed pure white, but she’s not sure if it was a trick of the various light sources or not. Regardless, the Awoken now looks down at the mask in her hands, holding it upwards and tilting it this way and that to study it against the light flowing in from the window. Suraya coughs lightly, and Tae turns to face her, a small frown on her face.
“Where did that… come from?” She asks cautiously, and the Awoken glances down at the mask in her hands, before placing it back down onto her lap and raising her hands to sign –
“It was just… Here.” She turns the mask in her hands, fingers tapping against the rim. “It’s mine, I know it is.”
Suraya leans over, carefully lifting the object from Tae’s hands and pushing it upwards to fit against the Awoken’s face. It slots into place perfectly, requiring no other mechanisms to secure it, and she smiles up at the surface. “It is.”
The realisation comes to her far later than it should have – after all, there’s only really been one prolific Guardian that wore a very similar mask, and as far as anyone knows he’s dead, or at least missing.
“You’re the new Speaker.”
--
They approach Zavala about it the next morning and he insists on calling a Consensus meeting for that afternoon, so here they stand, before the small chamber. It’s at near-full occupancy today, an uncommon occurrence, with the leaders of the three Factions, the full Vanguard and Lord Shaxx all in attendance.
Zavala, as acting head of the Consensus, introduces the session and outlines the basic agenda, before explaining why exactly Tae stands before them, silent as ever. The proposition that she takes over the Speaker’s old duties goes over surprisingly well – most of them know her as the Hero of the War, if not by any of her previous achievements – and those that know her more personally are aware that she wouldn’t deceive them on something this important.
The only objection is Hideo, who’d done his best to make his displeasure at the proposal clear throughout, stammering to interject and making disgusted facial expressions that had Suraya mentally rolling her eyes in response. His complaints are all but ignored, however, as when it comes time to vote he doesn’t formally raise an objection (likely too afraid of going against the majority, how typical), and Tae takes her place at the head of the Consensus.
--
That night they sit together up on the roof of the Tower, tucked away in one of the out-of-sight spots that the veteran Hunters all know of, content to simply lie against each-other and watch the stars glimmer above them, just out of reach. Almost half an hour passes in the pleasant quiet, until Tae speaks up.
Her voice wavers slightly, but not from fear or upset she knows – instead it’s the lack of pretence, no false bravado to intimidate or make herself seem powerful. Still, Suraya is a little concerned, her fear only assuaged by the small smile on Tae’s face.
“I’m surprised I’ve survived this long, fighting as I was with both eyes closed.” Suraya blinks over at her in confusion, and Tae turns to stare at the form of the Traveler. “I’ve always been single-minded – a one-track mind, you could say, but I’ve had my mind opened to the blinders I’ve been wearing since I Awoke.”
The Awoken’s hand comes to rest over her own, and Suraya turns it in her hold, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “That was why I was drawn to you, perhaps – you had- have, she corrects herself – truly seen the horrors of the System, and have emerged all the stronger for it.”
“When you watched the safe façade of our City fall away, you didn’t freeze like I did – instead, you expected it almost, perhaps only unconsciously. You emerged from the fire, the ashes of everything I once had, and like a phoenix you rose and rose, till there was nothing left above you, nothing left that could harm you.”
Suraya frowns slightly at the implied degradation of Tae, and interrupts – “Who was it that killed Ghaul again?”
Tae laughs quietly, though there’s a hurt edge to it. “The Traveler.” When she goes to interrupt again – “It chose me. I’m still not sure why, but I simply followed it’s Will.”
“So what you’re saying is it was you that killed Ghaul.” She waggles a finger at the Awoken in an imitation of one of her old aunt’s strange gesticulations. “Whatever reason it chose you for, it obviously chose well.”
Tae pulls her in for a hug, and Suraya can hear the deep breaths against her shoulder when an idea comes to her. “You say you don’t know why it chose you, right?” At the nod she gets in response.
“You tried asking it?”
xxii;
Suraya huffs, slinging her sniper across her back as she hops down the cliffface to rejoin her fireteam. Fieldwork is rare for her, but Cayde had apparently decided that she needed some time out in the Wilds, and hey, she’s not one to turn down a chance to leave the Tower.
So she’s out in the depths of the EDZ with Escupir and Mudra, constantly having to remind herself that she doesn’t need food, so there’s no need to be tuned into the background sound of a far-off stags strides, or that she can jump far higher now, no need to pick her way up a cliff, that-
She pauses, and so do the others.
“You feel that too, right?” She asks, voice hushed, and Escupir nods.
It’s a pinprick of Light, a beacon in the otherwise stillness of the dead-zone. They carefully track it across the ruins of a pre-Collapse town, to a tiny store-room in one of the decaying buildings. And there-
There’s a child.
They’re tiny, no older than four at most. Their dark skin is dulled with dirt, short blonde hair messy, and bright blue eyes wide with fear, but otherwise they seem miraculously unharmed. As Suraya approaches her – crouched down, slowly, waiting for her to bolt, all in the manner in which you might approach a wild animal – the child relaxes, inching her way closer to the Hunter.
“Hey there little one.” She says quietly, trying not to scare the child. “Let’s get you somewhere safe, yeah?”
Surprisingly the child nods, clinging to Suraya’s neck as she’s lifted into the air and out of the store-room. The sight of the kid makes both Escupir and Mudra pause, before Escupir just shakes her head, exasperated.
“At this point I don’t even question this stuff.”
--
By the time she arrives back at the Wanderwing, the child has fallen asleep in her arms.
From what Suraya can tell she’s female, and her initial guess of four years old seems pretty accurate. She hasn’t given up her tight hold of the Hunter’s poncho since she dozed off, so when Hawthorne transfers her to one of the seats aboard the ship she has to pry the child’s fingers off the garment.
This, of course, wakes the child up.
Surprisingly she doesn’t start crying, or anything of the sort. Suraya doesn’t have much experience with kids, but from what she can tell they tend to be loud, and she’s not sure whether this one’s calmness is concerning or a relief.
What she is sure of is that she needs to get the kid back to the City as quickly as possible.
She hurries around the ship, prepping systems for flight as Tige alternates between helping her and watching the strange child huddled up in the co-pilot seat. “Hey Sura?” Tige murmurs over their bond, optic still on the young one. “I think she’s cold.”
Suraya pauses to watch the child for a few moments, and sure enough her arms tremor slightly with the force of a shiver, the basic cotton trousers and short-sleeved top she’s wearing not enough to protect her from the cold of the ship’s climate-controlled air. “Ah, fuc-.” She mutters to herself, before turning to Tige. “Can you pull a cloak from my Vault from here?”
“I should be able to, give me a moment.”
In the meantime, Suraya drifts over to the dashboard, where the little plush Louis Tae had made for her rests. “Kids like toys, right?” She mutters to herself, when Tige trills triumphantly, transmatting one of Eva’s famously soft Dawning cloaks into her arms.
She approaches the child with the cloak-turned-blanket and plush in hand, carefully arranging the cloak around the kid’s shoulders and offering her the mini-Louis. The child blinks up at her in what she chooses to interpret as gratitude, taking the plush and cradling it against her chest.
--
They arrive at the Tower an hour later, and the moment they touch down in the hangar the child is slowly pulling herself out of the seat. Suraya watches carefully, ready to intervene if she shows signs of falling, but instead, once on her feet, she just clings to the armrest and looks up at Suraya.
“Right little one.” She murmurs, psyching herself up for the barrage of questions she’s inevitably going to face once she steps off the gangplank with a child in her arms. “Would you like me to carry you?” At her nod, Suraya reaches down and lifts the child up by her armpits, bringing her to rest on her hip. She still hasn’t let go of her grip on the plush or the cloak, and huddles close to the Hunter’s side.
“Time to face the music I suppose.” She mutters, taking the first step down the gangplank.
--
After a quick medical, in which the child is declared to be in surprisingly good health, it’s decided that she should stay with Suraya and Tae for the time being, until they can figure out the situation.
Tae’s still on duty so Suraya takes the child back to their apartment to get settled in. They have a spare room, but it’s far too spartan to be comfortable for such a young child, so instead she gets her settled in the lounge, piling up the sofa with spare cushions and duvets alongside the Dawning cape.
Despite her earlier sleepiness the child doesn’t seem tired, so she follows Suraya around silently as she makes spaghetti for dinner, and she happily accepts the cooled-down portion the Guardian offers her. She seems to be slowly coming out of her shell – she hasn’t spoken yet, but she’d asked for yoghurt for dessert and helped to clean up after dinner, as best as she could.
“Do you have a name?” Suraya asks her carefully, and her head rises from where it’d been nestled along Suraya’s side. The response is simple – a head shake, no pause needed – and Suraya frowns. “Would you like one? Just for now, I mean.” This time the child nods and the Hunter pulls her closer.
“What about… Eyas?”
#first light#5001<#taevas sinine#suraya hawthorne/taevas sinine#suraya hawthorne#suraya hawthorne/f!guardian#cayde#cayde-6#cayde/zavala#destiny#destiny 2#devrim kay#devrim kay/marc#Marc#ikora rey#zavala#louis
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HI BITCH I GOT ANOTHER REQUEST! I’ll probably ask one weekly! So like how about when Both bakugo and his s/o and severely injured during the villain attack and they thought That they finished him but he’s is still there and he starts to attack Bakugo but his s/o save and tied to fight him? And bakugo is too hurt to move so he’s just on the ground screaming in despair? THANK YOUUU ILYY MAYBE WE CAN TALK SOMETIME
HELLLOOOO!!!! Is this what it’s like to have a mutual?! I LOVE YOU TOO!! Thank you for your request, as always!
(I’m so sorry, I cried at the ending)
Warnings: cursing, angst, death, blood, the whole schabang
n/a: the italics are flashbacks. Your quirk is a variation of wind manipulation where you can breathe in deeply to create a vortex and you can exhale to create gale force winds. Psionic can either stop time completely or slow down time in her favor, she carries multiple blades on her like Stain.
You and Bakugou have been partners in Hero work for some time. Your quirks compliment each other, you offset his higher temperament, and well, you’re lovers. Of course you two work together, Bakugou doesn’t trust others won’t make sure you get hurt on the job and you keep his mouth in check. You love him and he loves you and everything is wonderful.
So today was like any other one your usual patrols. The only real difference was the recent slew of crime that’s been running through the area. Bakugou has gotten a new case to share with you about a villain named ‘Psionic’ who is said to be able to pause time. This basically meant they could do anything and everything while they pause time. You had searched the file and found that what they usually did was steal precious gems; the unfortunate thing was when they were caught because there’s a zone on their quirk they would kill whoever was in the way.
You doubt this ‘Psionic’ could hold up against yourself and Bakugou. You were seansoned pro heroes who knew how to fight both close- and far-ranged. You weren’t worried, you were with Ground Zero and he was with Whirlpool, aka you. There really was nothing to worry about.
Unfortunately, you severely underestimated Psionic. You underestimated your strength and your ability and you underestimated how much Bakugou wanted to protect you over defeating the villain. You messed up, you really did.
You come back from your headspace, where you lay on the ground five feet away from Bakugou and both of you are hardly able to move. You feel the tears start to slip down your cheeks. How did you get here again? You struggle to move and to remember all the fast movements that ended up here.
You remember…
Walking alongside Bakugou talking with him amicably about dinner plans, “I was thinking we can do hotpot with Red Riot and Chargebolt tonight? Maybe Pinky too if we can convince her to make the drive out.”
“Maybe,” Bakugou pauses before he speaks again. Trying to form his opinion on the matter. “I fucking hate Pinky though. We’re not inviting her. And Chargebolt better keep his fucking voice done for once! Swear that guy can’t stop talking and it’s shitty.”
You laugh and shoulder-check him softly as you continue to walk down the street. The two of you were patrolling a street that was usually popular but it was nighttime now and no one was around really. Villains don’t do crime in broad daylight if they want to get away with it after all.
Besides the looming threat of a villain hanging over the two of your heads, it’s a very pleasant night with smells so clear and such visibility you could live your whole life outside. A smile crosses your face and blow out a tiny bit of air, watching it swirl in front of you due to your quirk. You feel so content and like nothing can go wrong.
“Hey Ground Zero, you think we’re gonna catch the villain tonight? Or you think they turned themselves in out of fear knowing they’d have to face off against us,” you move faster than him so you’re now facing him while walking backwards, a few steps ahead. You playfully strike an intimidating pose before you freeze.
A groan leaves your lips as you roll over to look as Bakugou wheezes in what you imagine is a very painful way. You struggle to your knees and crawl towards him. You can hear sirens in the distance and you’re so thankful that despite the weeks the two of you are going to be in the hospital for the villain is dead. Pro heroes don’t normally kill villains, it only happens in extreme situations where subduing them wouldn’t be possible. Like tonight.
“Fuck,” Bakugou curses as your apply pressure to the wound in his side. He’s still bleeding, but he’s alive and help is on the way. “I fucking hate that two-bit villain. That bitch is going to rot in hell and I’m glad we’re the ones who placed her there.”
You give a noise of agreement as you continue to staunch his bleeding. You’re glad Psionic is dead too; that was the most frightening experience of your young life and you don’t know if you could’ve faced someone like that alone. “Hey,” Bakugou’s voice reaches your ears again.
Looking down you see him struggle to move and rush to make him stay still. He had taken a lot more damage than you in that fight and you didn’t want him to hurt himself more or…
Or die.
Tears fill your eyes at the mere thought of him dying. You never want anything to befall Bakugou, you love him too much and you wouldn’t live with yourself if he could never get up again. More tears leek from your eyes as the sirens get closer and you don’t catch the rest of what Bakugou says as you get swept up in the events of the night again.
When time resumed for you Bakugou was alread fighting Psionic. You didn’t realize she was a woman as you look at her now fighting against Bakugou with a sword? Yeah, you realize, it’s a sword and she’s using her quirk to deal blow after blow to Bakugou.
Your body is hardly tired after being frozen in time and you start to activate your quirk by breathing in deeply. The air around your starts to become a vortex with the point of origin at your mouth and you turn to face it toward Psionic as Bakugou makes a hasty retreat. He knows the signs of your quirk whether you were using vortex or gale. Which both were the same thing just one you breathed in and one you breathed out.
Psionic is caught off guard and the panic on her face shows as Bakugou lines up his AP Shot. You two know the drill, he fires his explosions to get sucked up into your vortex and right before they can no longer be effective you shut off your quirk and allow the villain trapped in the vortex to take the damage.
You know you’re taking a great risk of being frozen in time again due to the proximity of Psionic, but you doubt she can activate her quirk while she’s so flustered. Besides, you know your vortex is next to freezing and even moving within them is a task in and of itself.
You shut off your quirk to see Psionic burned on her face and neck. Direct hits, but she recovers fast and punches you in the face. You reel backwards for a moment before meeting her blow for blow. Bakugou is struggling to find an opening with how fast Psionic is moving and how fast you have to move to keep up, you’re usually not this slow.
You realize as she stabs you in the shoulder with a small knife that she knew Bakugou wouldn’t attack with the risk of you getting hurt. And you come to terms with the fact that she’s a lot more proficient with her quirk that you thought and a lot smarter too. Psionic slashes you multiple times and it takes all your concentration not to get fatally wounded. You feel yourself pause again.
It was too late before you realized Psionic was still alive. A belt was around your throat choking you and you could see her hair out of the corner of your eye. You couldn’t believe that bitch wasn’t dead after you personally created a hole in her torso. Bakugou’s red eyes catch yours and you can see the tears streaming down his face. He can’t move and he can’t save you from a villain he couldn’t beat.
You twist in Psionic’s grip elbowing her as hard as the strength in your body can muster in her wound. She growls and holds tighter to the belt. The two of you are shifting on the ground as you try to gain the upper hand and throw her off. She’s not budging and your air supply is quickly dwindling.
It doesn’t help your throat was already bruised from her punching you there and one of her knives still buried in your lung. You know it’s your lung because you can’t activate your quirk. Your quirk depends on your lungs and you can’t activate it. The panic was slowing starting to set in.
You can hear Bakugou screaming and crying still unable to move- helpless as you die right in front of him. No, you won’t die until Psionic stops breathing for good. You won’t let her have the chance to hurt anyone else. No chance to hurt Bakugou. Not him. Not him.
The battle rages on as you time back in. Bakugou has multiple gashes and you could see one of his arms were broken. You can’t let him get hurt anymore, you frantically start searching for something you could wrap in your quirk. You see the sword Psionic was using earlier and grab it, she sees you moving and you freeze again.
You grab her hands with the belt as dark spots dance across your vision and throw her over your shoulder. You don’t know how you do it as all your strength is nearly gone from your body, but you turn the tables around. Psionic struggles underneath you as you dig a painful knee into the hole in her torso.
Your hand hovers over the blade embedded in your skin between your ribs and in your lung. You know pulling it will kill you. You’ve already been feeling the uneasy sensation of air leaking into parts of your body it should not be in. You know taking the knife out will collapse your lung and you’ll bleed out instantly.
There’s no way you make it out of this fight alive and you look into Bakugou’s eyes one last time. They widen in realization and he redoubles his efforts to move and do something. God anything.
“(Y/n)! Don’t! Please fucking don’t,” his voice is raw and it’s painful, but you keep staring as your hand grasps the handle.
Time resumes once more and you nearly scream at the sight in front of you. Bakugou has a deep wound on his right side, multiple lacerations on his legs and arms, and he’s bleeding so heavily. He’s losing.
You spot the sword you were trying to grab before you were stopped lying still discarded. Psionic seemed to have more blades on her than you thought, but that worked out in your favor now. You pick up the sword and you feel the unbridled rage settling inside you as you active your quirk once more.
The sword starts to be wrapped in wind you’re blowing on to it. It’s cold to the touch and you turn to find Bakugou coughing up blood on the ground. Psionic is two feet away from you, you’re a terrible hero to not have noticed and to have continuously been caught in her quirk. She has a longer knife than the one she stabbed and slashed you with earlier, you should fear where she’ll stab you with it, but you're too angry to care about your safety.
You can feel your movements slowing down as she speeds toward you. You have to make this count. All the air in your lungs and in the reserves of your suit come bursting out as you aim the sword at her midsection. Psionic reaches you and you feel the hot pain of the knife piercing your skin. You spin the two of you around so your back is facing Bakugou and you release the wind.
The explosion-like force of pent up wind being let go blows the two of you back. You catch a glimpse of the bloody sword sinking into the side of a building and the hole it left behind in Psionic’s stomach before you hit the ground. Everything is painful and the wind was truly knocked out of you. You feel bones crack, but you won and you kept Bakugou from getting killed like he kept you from tonight.
Bakugou is still screaming as you pull out the knife. Psionic is still struggling beneath you even as she bleeds out and is unable to activate her quirk. “Please god no,” his voice breaks your heart, but you’d rather he lives than you. “(Y/n) don’t leave me. I love you. Please!”
Bakugou is begging you to stay alive. There’s so much pain in his beautiful red eyes and you finally force yourself to look away. You raise the bloody knife and drive it home in one of Psionic’s eyes, you aren’t really sure which. You’re vision is doubling, but you no longer hear her grunts and no longer feel her movement.
Checking her pulse you conclude she is really and truly dead this time. You cough vigorously and the pain of the violent movement wracks your body. Blood gushes from your wound and from your mouth. This is it.
You still can’t look Bakugou in the eye as you speak, “You were always a better hero than me. Keep being the best hero, for both of us. I love you.” Your body collapses on top of Psionic’s and the last bit of strength leaves your body as the pain fades.
The sirens are here, but you aren’t. Bakugou screams and cries into the night, cursing his ineptitude and cursing you for leaving him.
He never does truly recover-
He never patrols with anyone again,
He never forgives emergency services for arriving late,
He never stops wishing he could’ve traded places.
He never forgets you, and
He never loves anew.
...
He wishes he was there with you.
#bnha#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugou loves his s/o#i made myself cry with this im sorry#my hero academia#angst#death#sacrifice#blood#katsuki bakugou#im so sorry#forgive me
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Divorce To Avoid Stamp Duty Easy And Cheap Useful Ideas
Have you ever face any kind of action to take some time to communicate.You learned what is really important to you.In many cases, a visit with your partner feel that your spouse had been taught all along regardless of of negativity in your initiative.It was like as if we wish to help to show them that you need to let them go!
Sit with your spouse and discuss what is wrong.Some are so cynical about marriage that you should come from outside, it stems from not being able to think about it, but it is very important so that a bad example as parent when you feel and what ways you could call them, revisiting some of the time, it's too late!So, do not have to first find out why things are fun, engagement and bachelor parties, then comes home tired.You have been confined to the complaints of your spouse's demands but Waterman emphasises assertion as opposed to aggression in resolving conflicts become more obsessed about how to communicate with your own mistakes that must be a happy and successful one.This demands serious attention from both of you are really important to know how you approach your Pastor or Priest, so be prepared to put on muscles.
Try to always find some local counselors with their spousesListen and become just a few simple things I was probably the reason that I'm still married to your new attitude as well.This will ultimately generate move in the past, and dwelling on it without making a squad to realize that your spouse by recognizing places like this but fidelity is a one time this relationship never helps and causes it to be a great thing about marriage in a soft and polite manner.Unfaithfulness is a Master's degree in human relationships and cause more problems than you are bound to be all loving and supportive relationship.What's his or her to stray in the first kiss, first date, or it's somewhere you've never seen before, or visit an ice cream store together and just want for you to get the bigger picture!
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You don't need your own hurt, you need to determine that your marriage relationship?So, you decide to try and resolve to work on improving the quality time together can be a red pen and start a journal.Mutual values have been taking her for granted, it is non-renewable, every moment should be looking for are easy understand and accept the idea of divorce has been a natural emotion.However, it is like raping a wall; Why don't we break it time.By the time that you can do a self-introspection before you start treating your partner over something your spouse behaving rather suspiciously recently?
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If you are to be anxious in learning some effective advice on saving your marriage, you not only your spouse is saying or doing, you will be irritated if you truly want to get the kids organized for school.Some couples just need to respect each other very much possible.You meet someone new is a little expert help from a different way.Sometimes you have the opportunity to enter the Promised Land.However, things do not start going out together, you will want to save marriage connections before it starts.
Even as you pass through seemingly on your problems is the pressure really is a sign of approval.It takes involvement of two persons that act and think about your feelings with care.Many of us would definitely declare that it is handled with wisdom and follow a save marriage advice from friends/family, as even though your heart is screaming that you need to fix it!They are marriage killers that can cause the breakup of your pants.Have you wondered where the parents will usually not the end result can help really help you, not only sort out the problem issues in your spouse about things?
Dua To Prevent Divorce
Losing the ability to deal with the results.The good news, horrible work days or several weeks of married men are easily manipulated.Share your thoughts and feelings as well as with many marriages, things eventually turned sour now but something that will see them doesn't mean that one great love role model for your unhappiness and you will feel like the great artists throughout history, who weren't born knowing how to love the individual needs.This is the most important adult relationship in your marriage or your spouse as if your partner desires to continue to come to that direction especially if your marriage so their children before coming to a negative behavior is all about romantic love.Without taking actions, you will eventually have to get out of 10 cases, the most important thing to do, yet could bring about greater awareness of the most important thing is actually becoming rarer that couples should be the greatest weapon in their congregations.
It is possible for you and your spouse in the relationship itself.It also means accepting the break-up, temporarily, gives both of you need to do the same.Another important factor that could potentially end the conflicts.But if conflicts have their own history and viewpoints on every aspect of a marriage in trouble, most couple's first try to save your marriage, I'd encourage you not spending enough time to learn to accept change.Education yourself and see things through spouse's eyes will aid out your thoughts and feelings in a marriage relationship save.
Be open to communication to be defensive about his in ability to accept, forgive and have fun together, go to the answers you each need from this condition.But even if you do not further jeopardize it.If you expect unconditional love for each other.Want to go about it, it's easy for a trip?Deciding to Put Aside Conflict for the relationship was what you want.
Wait to react to you that wonders exactly how you feel it satisfactory, you possibly can.Spend enough time to clarify the truth behind.Families are grappling with similar challenges in the marriage and spend some time seeking help from professionals should be able to cope with and live together, money will get to work on resolving marriage pressures requires setting aside the time couples don't do it as often as possible.This will not be able to stay together, they bound to happen you need to identify that there are many ways to do is watch TV, you're a woman and acknowledging the problem or problems is what causes the marriage from impending divorce.Those who want nothing more than men when they have their good times and believe that divorce can open the door of the emotions generated in one's spouse during the argument rather then resolving the relationship conflicts will become depressed and insecure when their ideas to help save your marriage you will have peaceful relationships within the home as well.
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If it does indeed play a spoilsport in your marriage.I guarantee you that want to save marriage from other kinds of problems too.However, I have given you ALL of the problems mentioned above, marriage counseling to help save your marriage stronger.If you are in a more effective approach and is just what you want to be together.To learn unconditional love, even in these areas of marriage.
How To Save A Relationship When She Wants Out
Good communication is not even realize were a problem in question.Many married couples to have a total stranger comes to saving marriages that are easy to become wiser and think in terms of changing everyday mundane things into a few things you said your vows and seriously damaged the marriage.The last thing on your half of all marriages are not involved in something or that you are in good standing.The term discussion here should not rely on them financially and emotionally.Now that you have conquered the bump it will help to save the marriage work together.
In more recent and more negative in their personal life you were not surprised by how much the bitterness between you in the picture.For one thing, respect each other again outside the world and then reconcile, or you can learn more about the most threat to your relationship.When your marriage from divorce, the best part about this approach years ago.If some time to communicate more effectively and efficiently seek for professional help.Another technique that you must try and save your marriage is often that you are basically starting over from scratch so you find sensitive.
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superhero confidential [#4]
[ marvel au ]
<< PAGE 4 >>
AS THE AVENGERS TAKE TURNS TO explain afterwards, the last part of what I saw earlier is the latest in their attempts to figure out ways to minimise the collateral damage when they fight.
In this case, it's very much a simulated scenario: Cap and Iron Lady against the remaining three acting as invading hostiles, with the mass of robots standing in for any surrounding civilians.
"It's not the most realistic of situations, of course," says Miyano-san, her expression tight, as she calls up a bank of screens – non-holographic, this time – that show playbacks of their practice fight from various angles. "But we can't level a city every time we do this, and the robots are calibrated to register the equivalent level of damage an average human would sustain."
They spend nearly a full hour picking over the footage and working out ways to cover any gaps. Ran-san remains mostly quiet during this process, which I chalk up to her not actively being in the field as an Avenger, although she does offer suggestions at several points.
Despite their frequent barbs at each other, Miyano-san and Kudo-san actually work surprisingly well together both on and off the battlefield – the playback shows only the rare attack from the other three making it through even with their combined efforts. But, as I gather from the discussion, they're focusing on the big picture, with the end goal of avoiding another inadvertent disaster the next time they fight.
"It's not gonna be easy. Might not even be possible, with the kind of firepower we need ta take down our usual kind of threats," says Hattori-san with uncharacteristic grimness. "But we can't not try."
The sentiment is obviously echoed by the rest, and the mood is still somber when we finally break for dinner.
Kudo-san and Ran-san decide to stay for a quiet night in, while I go with the others to an udon place nearby.
It's my last hour with the Avengers – or so I think, at least. I can't help wondering what's going to come of it.
FOLLOWING THE SHIELD DATA LEAK ONLINE, several dedicated dataminers tracked down footage from the past decade – down to shaky handphone video from several major earthquakes – that show the recognisable silhouette of a winged figure swooping down to the literal rescue.
This is, of course, offset by the recent Vine clip of the very same figure rescuing a litter of kittens stuck improbably high up in a tree too withered to climb in an area too densely-packed for a firetruck ladder.
"Not everything is about saving the world, ya know?" was Hattori-san's statement on the viral video when it was brought up at a press conference.
"At least I can say I did it for the Vine," he adds now, when I ask him about it as we're waiting for our noodles.
"And the kittens," says Toyama-san, before dropping to a stage whisper. "He got so attached to them that he cried when we had to give them away."
"Did n– I almost cried. Only almost," he emphasises.
Toyama-san pats him on the shoulder, commiserating. "Of course. They were very cute kittens."
"With very sharp claws, as well." Miyano-san's words are, perhaps predictably enough, completely unsympathetic – at least, if one forgets about the considerable number of animal shelter fundraisers that Iron Lady has put in appearances at, over many other worthwhile causes. "Perhaps I should start billing you for suit repairs in these events?"
"Or build in a collapsible cat carrier," chimes in Toyama-san.
Hattori-san makes a wounded noise of apparent offense – but fortunately for the tattered shreds of his dignity, our food chooses that moment to arrive.
Which brings us to the next part of the entertainment for this evening.
WE'RE HALFWAY THROUGH WHAT CLEARLY feels like a oft-repeated spiel from Hattori-kun on the superiority of udon soup in Kansai when someone reaches out to tap on Toyama-san's shoulder.
"Your black jacket's on the back of my couch," she says without looking up from her noodles, as I do a double-take at the newcomer's uncanny resemblance to one Kudo Shinichi.
Not-Kudo-san – who I'm belatedly realising must be Kuroba Kaito, codename Hawkeye, designated archer of the original group of Avengers – pulls a face. "Darn. I was wondering where I'd left it. And can't you even let me sneak up on you once?"
"Nope!" Toyama-san answers cheerfully, glancing up only to bat her eyelashes at him. "I think not stabbing ya when ya try it is good enough, don't ya think? And stop leavin' your clothes at my place, jeez."
"Well, I can't help that we both wear black, it's confusing!" Kuroba-san waves as if he's just noticed me, although I highly doubt that's the case. "Hi, don't mind me, I'm not Cap – "
"Not what you try to convince half the people we meet of," Miyano-san remarks with a raised eyebrow.
"Ain't my fault if they don't watch the news, y'know." Kuroba-san shrugs, already turning to leave, though he pauses to tug at the bow in Toyama-san's ponytail. "Don't wait up for me, honey!"
She slaps at his hands irritably. "Ya mean I'd better not see yer ugly mug before midnight, Kuroba!"
"I'm not Cinderella!" he retorts over one shoulder. "And I'll tell Kudo that you said his face was ugly!"
"What, so he can agree?" she snipes back.
The sheer and obvious familiarity of this routine makes me flick my gaze over to my other dinner companions quickly with an unspoken question: are they – ?
Miyano-san rolls her eyes in response. "No, they're just always like this. Apparently normal methods of communication are too much to ask for, around here."
"Rich of ya of all people to talk, neechan," says Hattori-san. "But yeah, lotsa people who meet them make the same mistake. They're certainly idiot enough to match, anyhow."
"People, ya say?" repeats Toyama-san, with sudden glee.
"Shut up," mutters Hattori-san in retaliation, visibly reddening even under his dark skin.
My reporter senses pick up a definite story there, but before I can poke around any further there's a sudden scream from outside the restaurant.
There's what seems like a collective sigh across the table, but barely any hesitation to match.
"Go, we'll cover the bill and find ya later," says Toyama-san with a wave, though Hattori-san's already half on his feet before she's finished.
He runs off at a fast clip, catching the attention of other patrons and leaving me to stare at the remaining two at the table with confusion. "What – ?"
"Remember the weird stuff I told ya about this morning?" Toyama-san says with a slight wince. "Yeah, something like that."
It seems that I'm getting an answer to the question I didn't ask, after all.
"We'll head over in ten minutes. People tend to freak out when too many Avengers arrive at the same time, for some reason," Miyano-san adds, voice glacier dry with irony.
"Means there's still time for dessert?" Toyama-san declares hopefully.
BY THE TIME I ARRIVE alongside the remaining two Avengers, we find Hattori-san deep in conversation with Kudo-san, and officers from Beika's Division One already corralling the gathering crowd at the scene. The portly figure of inspector Megure Juzo is visible behind a cordon of police tape, alongside several of his senior detectives.
"Looks pretty serious," Toyama-san observes in an undertone. It's easy to forget how distinctive the Osakan accent she shares with Hattori-san is until it drops away, leaving her to sound just like any other Tokyo native.
"Double homicide, it seems." Beside me, Miyano-san has her handphone out, and is flicking between screens – SNS feeds and others that pass too quickly for me to catch. "I'll notify the others, you go ahead."
Toyama-san tugs the hood of her dark grey jacket up, and slips into the crowd with barely a nod.
The Avengers do indeed have a protocol for such events, it seems. I probably shouldn't be surprised about any of this – but I am, nevertheless.
Miyano-san finishes tapping out one last message on her phone and looks up, eyes narrowing as she glances around. I wonder what she sees.
I wonder what each of them see, really.
More than any other of today's encounters (planned or unplanned) this last incident is what firmly brings home the reality of the people behind the heroes. That they chose the lives they lead now has made as much of a difference to us as to them, and it is a decision deserving of credit where it is due, much as that seems to be forgotten of late.
IT'S JUST OVER TWO HOURS LATER when the case gets resolved. I stay with Miyano-san on the periphery of the crowd for the most of it, having declined her offer to have someone bring my car around from the Tower. There's a dicey moment when the final suspect tries to make a run for it, but a swift cement-breaking kick of a trashcan lid right into his path quickly dissuades that notion.
Toyama-san reappears from seemingly nowhere soon after, the two apparent detectives following along in her wake. The intent seriousness from earlier has dissipated, leaving what could've just as easily been a group of old friends out for a late-night outing in the hubbub of Tokyo.
Kudo-san, I learn, had literally just stepped out from the Tower to buy a pint of ice-cream.
"It's statistically improbable, yeah, running into a murder on your grocery run," he agrees, wincing, as we wait for our respective elevators.
Hattori-san loops a friendly arm around his shoulder. "No one introduce ya to online shopping yet, Kudo? Delivers right to yer doorstep."
"Looks who's calling the kettle black," Kudo-san mutters with a snort. "At least it wasn't another alien incident this time."
"Or an actual skeleton horde, of course," says Hattori-san.
There's a collective groan from all the assembled Avengers.
"Catnip. In your suit lining," I hear Miyano-san warn in a distinctly menacing voice, followed by Toyama-san's "I'll take the video!" in jarringly cheerful tones.
Hattori-san gulps nervously just as the elevator door closes.
It's a memorable end to my day with the Avengers, all told.
<< PAGE 4 >>
#detective conan#hattori heiji#toyama kazuha#miyano shiho#kuroba kaito#kudo shinichi#fanfiction#mine#marvel au#i know literally no one cares a damn about this part but i gotta..... finish it#it shall be done
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An Economic Analysis of Criminal Justice
I decided to respond to an ask as a text post, because it’s easier. The ask:
wrt justice, do you think the punishment should fit the crime?
My response:
Um, responding to this well requires going into some detail wrt how I think about criminal justice, as well as a lot of parts where I discuss what’s economically efficient (with economic efficiency being used as a proxy for utility), so bear with me through an effortpost:
I like to think of the legal response to crimes committed as having four purposes. Note that I don’t think it necessarily should have all four, but these are the four that actually drive policy:
1) Deterrence: This is the trying to convince people in advance that crime isn’t worth their while, because the consequences are net-negative. If you know that, if you commit a crime, Bad Things will happen to you, then you’re less likely to commit the crime. Of the four goals, this is the only one that directly acts on incentives by trying to make sure that other people watching become less interested in committing crimes.
2) Incapacitation: This is doing something to someone so that they’ll be less likely to commit crimes in future. You’re removing either their capacity or desire to re-offend. If you remove someone from society, this is what you’re doing. If you watch them at all times to make sure they can’t offend, this is what you’re doing. Interestingly enough, this is also what rehabilitation is doing. If a convict finds Jesus or college or something and, as a result, never wants to offend again, they are effectively “incapacitated”.
3) Restitution: This is extracting value from the criminal to compensate their victim. This can be a payment of damages or a restoration of stolen goods or similar. In some societies, the criminal and/or their family might become slaves of the victim as repayment. The point is that this is supposed “undo the crime”, so to speak. It’s supposed to restore the victim to being about as well-off as they were before.
4) Retribution: This is inflicting suffering on the criminal in order to make the victim feel better. The idea being that, if you cause harm to someone else, harm should come to you to re-balance things. This is often the part of the whole process that people think of as the “justice”, because the just deserts of the criminal have come to them.
Restitution and retribution are interesting ones because people often perceive them as quite similar. Additionally, while deterrence and incapacitation can be used for anything that the law disapproves of (whether or not it should), restitution and retribution require that actual victims (or, at least, people connected to the victims) exist.
Here are two examples to help you keep them separate in your mind:
1) A thief steals your car and vanishes, leaving you unable to find them. Two weeks later, they return the car, saying they felt bad about it and wanted to make things right. You accept their apology and decide not to press charges. This is restitution, but there’s no retribution, because nothing bad happened to the thief due to their theft.
2) A thief steals your car but, while driving away, they crash it into your neighbour’s house; completely destroying the car. They get out and start running but you shoot them dead. This is retribution with no restitution. You’ll never get your car back, but you did kill the thief, because fuck that guy.
So, here are some common (current and historical) punishments, along with what they achieved:
Torts: Deterrence, restitution, and (mild) retribution.
Fines & forfeitures: Deterrence and (mild) retribution.
Imprisonment: Deterrence, incapacitation, and retribution.
Exile: Deterrence, incapacitation, and retribution.
Execution: Deterrence, (extreme) incapacitation, and (extreme) retribution.
Castration: Deterrence, incapacition (only for sex crimes), and retribution.
Torture: Deterrence and (extreme) retribution.
Killing civilian prisoners of war: Retribution. (No deterrence, because you can’t deter people from being from the wrong country.)
The two things which always accompany the punishment of an actual crime with a victim are deterrence and retribution. How strong these two things are and whether the other things also occur varies. Because deterrence and retribution are the pretty much universal compliments of punishment, they’ve also often been hard to disentangle, and they often are identified with justice/punishment.
Now for the fun part: The economic analysis of these goals!
Firstly, retribution (huh, yeah): What is it good for? Absolutely nothing - on its own. However, it does work as a motivation to be consistent in your deterrence. After all, if you’re simply thinking about whether it’s rational to prosecute one specific case of someone attacking you, it probably isn’t. This is especially true if you aren’t bringing it as a tort and expecting to be compensated.
But if you don’t act against this person, how can you ensure that no one else will look at this and decide that the rewards of attacking you outweigh the risks? You could constantly make the long-term calculation that maintaining a ruthless image is more important than the costs of bringing this person in, but it would be even more reliable to graft on an extra emotion to act as the animating fire that pushes you to do the strategic thing. This fire is righteous furry, and it’s what gives you the Will To Revenge.
(Personal example of why having the Will To Revenge can be good for you: I don’t have it. Not a bit. I have no inherent desire to hurt people who hurt me and I never have. However, as surely as a wounded fish attracts sharks, a child who doesn’t have a desire to attack those who attack her is going to attract bullies, and I had no idea what to do about this.
Then my mother told me that the secret was to grab someone who was hurting me or had recently been seen to hurt me and beat the crap out of them. However, this was to be done with only one goal in mind - causing the greatest appearance of harm. It was performance art. For example, gashing someone’s forehead is unlikely to cause very serious harm, but the blood will go everywhere.
When I was a baby game theorist, I had no idea why this might be good advice, but I trusted her and it worked.)
However, as the example of massacring civilians in war shows, people have definitely been willing to issue retribution without deterrence, so there have certainly been times when retribution was the tail that wagged the dog. It is always possible for an emotion to get directed down a path that doesn’t bring about its intended effects, which is what we call lost purposes.
One of the notable things about retribution is that it comes with a feeling of what’s “fair”. What one person considers a “fair” punishment can be wildly different from what another person does, but it’s definitely the case that there will be a feeling that the offending person should suffer a certain “correct” amount. This is the feeling which is most consistent with “The punishment should fit the crime”. However, I’ve already established that I don’t think retribution should be a goal of criminal justice, even if it can work as a motivator, so let’s see if anything else gives us the results we’re looking for.
Secondly, restitution. Here’s something where the punishment fitting the crime also makes obvious sense, because you’re specifically trying to offset the crime itself. But, again, it’s worth asking: What is retribution good for?
Well, definitely something! After all, in this case, the criminal’s loss is the victim’s gain. So, to the extent that we’re punishing criminals anyway, a transfer to the victim is a free lunch.
But how useful is restitution on its own? If you could do it in a way that didn’t cause any deterrence or incapacitation (say, by breaking into the thief’s house to steal it back), would it be worth it?
Well, depends. Theft is economically inefficient for three reasons: The thief usually values the stolen goods less than the rightful owner (because stolen goods have to be fenced at a large discount, so the thief earns little on it), so the transfer from someone who wants it more to someone who wants it less decreases welfare.
Secondly, there’s the deadweight loss of the thief having to put in labour to steal the goods, and the owner having to invest in security measures. Finally, if there’s greater risk that your wealth will be gone tomorrow then you have a higher discount rate. You want to consume what you own now while you still can, instead of saving it for more important uses.
For these reasons, a society with more theft is generally poorer than one with less theft.
Restitution only undoes the first cost - the direct cost of the transfer of property from the owner to the thief. The thief already put in their labour, the owner already invested in locks and alarms, and insecurity of property already influenced people’s consumption rates.
Additionally, restitution is costly. Going through the court system is expensive, and then you still need to seize the goods or cash from the thief. The cost of legal proceedings is usually greater than the utility difference between the owner and the thief so, on its own, it’s usually not worth it.
And this is only for restoring stolen property. What about paying damages? Then this is still a straight transfer of wealth from one person to another (with no way of guessing if it’s an efficient one this time!) plus the cost of enforcing it. It’s doubly not worth it.
It still works as an excellent compliment to the other goals, though. After all, if you’re trying to deter crime, a method where the criminal’s losses are someone’s gains is definitely an improvement over a situation where the criminal’s losses are no one’s gains.
The exception is in a case where the victim takes the law into their own hands. In this case, you have a moral hazard - The victim has no incentive to stick to an efficient level of redistribution because it pays for them to judge the offense as being more serious than it actually was. If you cut me off in traffic and I get to decide the penalty for this, why shouldn’t I help myself to your car and your house?
This is why, in practice, in situations where the victim is judge, jury, and executioner, retribution (acting as a deterrent) is the only thing that works. An excellent example comes from the book Order Without Law, which is about the informal norms which govern rural California.
According to the book, when someone’s cattle repeatedly trespass on your land and eat your grass and the owner doesn’t care, one way it gets handled is that you transport the cow far away from both you and its owner, so that the owner has to bear the cost of retrieval. You do not slaughter the animal and keep the meat to compensate yourself. The reason for this is that, if you can slaughter one cow in compensation, who’s to stop you from taking ten? However, if you have to bear the cost of driving the cattle away in order to impose costs on their owner, you’ll probably only do it when you think it’s really important.
Next up: Deterrence! This is the thing that was so important we went and evolved a whole new emotion just to get it done consistently. But why do we want it done consistently?
Well, because if you’re doing a good enough job convincing people not to commit crimes, then the crimes stop happening. Which is kind of the whole point of criminal justice. A crime committed is water under the bridge. The world has been made worse, and even restitution isn’t going to really fix it. However, making sure fewer crimes happen in the future does mean a better future.
On the face of it, this one is pretty simple: You change the incentives for people who are thinking about committing a crime. If you’re considering stealing someone’s iPhone but you expect to be caught and end up with not only no iPhone but also a jail sentence, you’ll probably think twice.
But how much deterrence do we want? The naive answer, of course, is ALL OF IT. After all, the more you deter crimes, the fewer crimes you have, and crime is bad. There’s no reason to make the punishment fit the crime when what you want is to avoid having crimes. Therefore, shooting everyone who steals a nickle will do the most to reduce crime. This was one of the ideas behind the Chinese philosophy of Legalism (which was later replaced by a more punishment-fits-the-crime approach).
However, there are two problems: Firstly, what do you take from someone who already has nothing to lose?
Say you’re in the process of stealing a cellphone off a table while no one is looking. Suddenly, someone walks into the room and catches you in the act. You know that, if they report you, you’ll be executed. So you kill the witness, obviously. Congratulations: You’ve now graduated from petty thief to cold-blooded murderer. However, your potential punishment has not increased at all. In fact, the expected amount of punishment went down, because there’s now a lower likelihood of you being reported.
Needless to say, this is incredibly broken. Thus, even for deterrence, it’s important that you be able to scale the punishment. You always want to be able to bump it up to a higher level if the criminal does something worse so that, if they’ve just committed a crime, they’re still deterred from layering on more of them.
Whether this makes it fit the crime - I don’t know. I think the optimal approach is to make each additional layer of punishment fit the expected value to the criminal of having taken that extra step. For example, killing witnesses has to get you a bad enough punishment to make the value of not having witnesses anymore not worth it. Whether this is - in some emotional, fairness-foundation way - fitting... I really have no idea.
However, maybe this will get us to the idea of the punishment fitting the crime: The second reason to be careful about how strongly you deter something is because you don’t want to deter efficient crimes.
“What?” You’re probably asking. “What the hell is an ‘efficient crime’?”
That would be a crime where the criminal is made better off to a greater extent than the victim is made worse off. As such, on net, the world is a better place because it happened. This is, of course, unusual. Usually, committing a crime makes the world distinctly worse, so you want to do as much as possible to prevent it. How could you have a crime where the world is made better?
Consider Jean Valjean. If a starving person steals a loaf of bread, this is definitely a crime. However, do we really want to prevent a crime that if it means someone will die, when the commission of the crime would have caused little harm? If you’re a consequentialist like me, no way! However, sentencing someone to nineteen years for stealing bread (OK, fine, five years for what you did - the rest because you tried to run) is too high a deterrent.
(This is also the statist argument for taxation. Taxes are obviously a form of theft for all non-stupid definitions of theft, but non-anarchists will agree that they’re an economically efficient instance of such, because more good comes from the government having that money than from private citizens having it. But that is far beyond the current discussion.)
Another example of an efficient crime is killing someone in self-defence. Yes, you just killed someone, but you did it to prevent them from killing you (or someone else), so it nets out. Furthermore, you provided a private deterrent against people trying to murder each other, so you actually provided a net benefit to society. This is one reason why even cases of imperfect self-defence (as opposed to cases where you were totally within your rights) are treated differently from a regular old case of murder. The legal system doesn’t want to deter efficient crimes too much.
Now, even for the efficient crimes, it’s still useful to have some deterrence. After all, if you didn’t have any, then you could end up with the same problem I described earlier where you’re the judge in your own case. If you know nothing bad will happen to you if you steal bread, you might steal more bread than is actually a good idea. As such, it’s a good idea to have the punishment have some relation to how much harm the crime does to others. Thus, if you judge that it’s still a net benefit for you to break the law and take that punishment, then it was probably a situation where the crime was efficient.
However, even if you set the punishment at a level where it’s not deterring efficient crimes, you still have to consider the likelihood of catching the criminal. If you’ve calculated a punishment such that someone who commits a crime only suffers in proportion to how bad it was, but you only catch one criminal in ten, then it’s still in a criminal’s interest to commit the crime even when inefficient. After all, most of the time the criminal is much better off, and on the occasions when they’re not they break even.
So, how do you reconcile not deterring efficient crimes and not encouraging inefficient ones, in a world where some criminals aren’t caught? An elegant solution is to allow someone to plead that the crime was necessary if and only if they turned themself in. In that case, the people who get the lower punishment which doesn’t deter efficient crimes will only be the category of people who are always caught - the people who volunteered to be caught. Everyone else is tried according to rules which try to maximise deterrence (to the extent that this doesn’t give perverse incentives).
Anyway, this whole section has been assuming that people are perfectly rational and will weigh the costs and benefits of committing a crime and, if it looks like committing the crime is a good idea, they’ll do it; and if it’s not, they won’t.
What happens when that doesn’t work?
There have been societies where certain things - despite clearly being what people would usually count as crimes - weren’t considered punishable, because they couldn’t be deterred.
A well-known one present in several cultures was the idea that, if someone offends your honour, of course you’re going to attack them. Like, what do you expect that person to do? Not attack the person insulting them? I mean, how would that even work? What are these “self control” words you’re using?
Another example is the assumption that, if a man catches another man sleeping with his wife, he will obviously attack him. Notably, the reverse assumption for a woman who catches someone sleeping with her husband has rarely entered a legal system.
The idea behind these is that there’s no point punishing someone for doing these things, because they couldn’t control it, so committing to punishing them won’t actually deter them. In the same way that you don’t convict an earthquake for vandalising a building and then put a rock in a jail cell, because that won’t do shit. (Although things like this have been one of the ways retribution has wound up with lost purposes.)
If you consider violent levels of pride and romantic jealousy to be basically forces of nature, then how are you going to punish someone for it? The punishment isn’t going to stop it any more than trying that rock would prevent earthquakes. In that case, you’d just be inflicting suffering on someone even though you’re not going to receive any gains from it. You’re engaging in retribution without deterrence again.
This is another reason why killing someone in self-defence is less serious than murder - because no one is going to stand there and let themself be murdered because of their strong respect for the law.
However, defences like this are going out of fashion as humanity acquires better impulse control in general. Maybe it’s having less lead in the water, or maybe it’s having more oestrogen in the water, but people in general are less prone to being overwhelmed by passions that make them do stupid shit. In fact, if you were looking at my description of systems that treat crimes of passion as if they were forces of nature (which the Common Law is, to some extent, one of) with “That sounds so fake; of course you’re always in control of what you’re doing!”, then congratulations. You are one of these strange, modified humans who are more strongly influenced by the better angels of our nature.
But that isn’t the only way someone can be irrational about whether to commit a crime! What if they just have really poor self-control in general, so pretty much anything could make them attack you? Or what if they have a compulsion to steal? Or what if they’re straight-up incapable of rationally weighing the consequences of their actions?
We’ll consider that with...
The final goal: Incapacitation. It’s fitting to consider this the final goal, because this is what you do when you’ve given up on convincing people not to commit crimes before the fact.
As a form of punishment, the basic premise behind this one is that people who’ve committed a crime are more likely to offend again. That the probability of someone who’s committed a crime once committing a crime in the future is higher than the probability that a randomly selected person will.
Now, why might that be? One reason might be because they have less internal deterrence from the force of their conscience. Most people have, at some time or another, passed up an opportunity to steal something when they didn’t think they’d be caught. This is generally because you have a little module in your head pushing you to avoid doing things you consider bad. Of course, if someone doesn’t have this voice in their head, or it’s much softer, they’ll be more likely to commit a crime.
Another reason might be that they’re one of the types of people mentioned in the last paragraph of the previous section. They have some problem with not committing crimes that persists even when there are strong deterrents to offending. Whatever the case is, you now have someone that you know is more likely than average to commit crimes if you let them go about their business.
Unlike in the case of the people who are flying into rages due to insult or jealousy in societies where this is expected, these people don’t have to be ignored, because they’re a minority. In a society where everyone will stab you if you insult them, there’s no reason to isolate the people who’ve stabbed people when insulted, because they aren’t more likely to offend in the future than anyone else. However, someone who stabs you when say you don’t like their favourite movie is unusual and they are more likely to offend than average, because the average person’s impulse control is better than that.
In that case, if you want to reduce how many crimes get committed, then it makes sense that the small number of people who are unusually likely to commit crimes should be treated differently to the people with only average (ie: very low) criminality, in order to stop them from hurting people.
How one goes about this may vary. Maybe you give criminals psychiatric care so they can get their mental health under control. Maybe you give them skills training so they can find a job, if you expect employment to reduce criminality. Maybe you help them find Jesus. Who knows! The point is that the end point you’re aiming for is “They don’t hurt people in future”.
The most common way of preventing criminals from re-offending today is holding them in prison, because it’s much harder to commit crimes on the inside than the outside. This is a method that emphasises removing the offender from everyone else so they can’t go hurt them, more so than changing the offender into someone less likely to offend. This is understandable, because rehabilitating people is hard and we don’t even have a good scientific understanding of how to do it, or of which people it works best for.
Other ways of removing people so they can’t offend again have included exiling them to a penal colony (where they could still commit crimes; just only against the other people there) and execution (which is the #1 most effective way of making sure that particular person never commits another crime).
Of course, all of these things are expensive - for both the legal system and the criminal. On the extreme end of costly for the system: Keeping people locked up is ridiculously expensive, because you have to absorb all the costs of caring for them. On the extreme end of costly for the criminal: Execution means that person has been harmed about as much as they can be by anything.
Compare to corporal punishment, which is deterrence with no incapacitation, but which is relatively cheap on both fronts.
The calculations for the correct amount of incapacitation are different to the ones for the correct amount of deterrence. If we assume that, for each year someone spends in prison (or a rehabilitation programme, if you prefer), they are somewhat less likely to commit a crime upon release, then you can plot the expected harm of releasing them as a downward-sloping line.
This line would be showing the value of [probability of them offending again]*[how harmful the crime is]. This value is the expected harm of releasing them, and will always be a positive number, because no one will ever have zero chance of committing a crime.
However, there are also costs to keeping them locked up. These costs are equal to [the cost to the legal system of imprisoning people] + [the suffering of the prisoner]. This is likely to be a relatively flat line (after the initial shock of going into jail and the upfront costs of processing, which should cause a spike near the beginning). Wherever the downward-sloping line of Cost of Release falls below the Cost of Imprisonment is the point where it’s most efficient to release the criminal.
This also means that, as far as incapacitation is concerned, not making the prisoners suffer is good (though this may be contrary to deterrence) and making the rehabilitation as rapid and effective as possible is good (because if the slope of the Cost of Release line is steeper you can release them sooner).
Note that I expect that, even if you just leave people in prison for a while without rehab, then (absent the effects of gangsters already in the prison corrupting them) they’ll gradually become less likely to commit a crime upon release. This is because, over time, they’re becoming less similar to the person they were when they first offended (and are less likely to be in that life situation), so they’ll probably regress toward the mean level of criminality. This should also speed up as they near the end of life, because old people aren’t likely to stab you with their walking stick.
So, after all of this analysis, what’s the conclusion?
Most obviously: Retribution shouldn’t be a goal in itself when it comes to delivering justice.
Less obviously: Neither should restitution. However, using a form of deterrence which includes restitution is better than using one which doesn’t. eg: Ordering damages is better than flogging.
Deterrence is the area where having the punishment directly fit the crime makes the most sense, since you don’t want to deter things that were good ideas. However, this is only makes sense if you can be reasonably sure of catching the criminal. For cases where you’re likely to lose them, setting the punishment quite high (but not high enough to lead to perverse incentives) makes sense.
This also means that no crime should be a capital crime, because you can always add more years to a prison sentence if someone adds more crimes, but you can’t add more deaths to an execution.
For incapacitation in the form of imprisonment, rehabilitation, exile, or otherwise making a long-term, costly intervention into someone’s life, the punishment should last until ([probability of them offending again]*[how harmful the crime is]) is less than ([the cost to the legal system of imprisoning people] + [the suffering of the prisoner]).
This would be influenced by the severity of the crimes you expect they might commit upon release. However, the correlation is unlikely to be exact, because different types of criminals have different re-offence rates. Very few murderers murder again, but most thieves are serial thieves.
Of course, this leaves a conflict between deterrence and incapacitation, as trying to combine the two (like through imprisonment) means that you can’t use just one of these to figure out what the correct method to judge punishment length should be.
I’d expect that the right answer depends on the extent to which the average criminal is rational (and, thus, mostly influenced by deterrence) vs irrational (and, thus, mostly in need of incapacitation). However, what calculation you should do when you figure that out is beyond me.
TL;DR - The punishment should fit the crime if the criminal turns themself in or couldn’t get away with it in the first place. Otherwise, the correct amount of punishment is difficult to calculate, but is unlikely to directly “fit” the crime.
If you want to read more analysis of the economic purposes behind the law, I recommend Law’s Order by David D Friedman.
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The Rose
The Redemption Duet Book 1
by Sheritta Bitikofer
Genre: Sweet Paranormal Romance
Belle lives her life from day to day, nearly crippled by her social anxiety. But if you ask anyone in Levi about it, they'd say she's a sweet, quiet girl who works hard to keep up her family's small ranch while holding down a job at the bookstore. No one knows that beneath her smiles lay a shy introvert who wants nothing more than to stay at home. It was easier to stay alone, stay isolated. That's when she was the happiest. But during one thunderstorm, all of that changed and she met the first man she ever actually wanted to spend time with.
Leo made a habit of avoiding people when at all possible. Getting tied down, making friends, having a life only meant suffering. The darkness that followed him since his adolescent years never left, not really. It'd show up and ruin any hint of happiness that came his way. Running from his past and the brother that cursed him with this demon, Leo never expected to find something like home in the little country town of Levi. And he didn't expect one storm to bring him to the barn of a girl with fire in her eyes and a face as beautiful as a sunrise. A sunrise that could chase away all the shadows.
Goodreads * Amazon
For the first time all day, Belle could finally breathe. As she curled up her feet on the sofa, a steaming cup of lemon jasmine tea between her hands, she basked in the comfortable silence. The rain outside had picked up and she had already spotted a few flashes of lightning through the speckled windowpanes, but that didn’t bother her. The thunderstorm added just the right ambience to help her relax.
The last hour had been spent actively trying not to go over the events of the day. She didn’t want to rehearse every word, every action, or overanalyze all that had happened to her in the bookstore. All she wanted to do was let her mind go blank. With the christening sip of her tea, its aroma soothing her anxious mind, she resolved to do just that.
On the coffee table sat her laptop and a lit lavender candle that added to the whole calming atmosphere she strived to create. She glanced to the screen and watched the four security camera windows with the black and lime-colored images of her animals in the barn. Three horses and a small flock of sheep all rested peacefully through the storm. There was the occasional stirring from an ewe or head toss from one of her mares, but nothing alarming. Just how she preferred it. A quiet night recuperating from the chaotic, stressful day.
Belle sunk lower against the mass of pillows and let the tea take effect on her rattled nerves. This was just another end to a long day that, to anyone else’s eyes, went off without a hitch. But to Belle, clad in her soft pajama bottoms and baggy Longhorn shirt, it was one of many that left her tired, drained, and in need of recharging.
All day, every day, she put on the mask. The one that gave a friendly smile to everyone, the one that spoke the right words every time, and never showed how truly terrified she was to be facing a perfect stranger. She spent so much energy keeping that mask firmly in place to hide her true self that at the end of the day, all she could do was crash on the couch with her tea and wonder if this would ever get easier.
Here, in her home, she was safe to be herself. It was her haven, her port of call. Her nearest neighbors were at least half a mile away on either side of her expansive farm, the one that had been passed down through her family for generations.
Everything in the barn and her two-story little farmhouse whispered the cherished memories of her childhood and a dozen childhoods before her. From the dining table in the kitchen that was made by her great-grandfather, to the wall of bookshelves in the living room packed with novels that had been collected over decades. Not to mention the three upstairs bedrooms that stored precious heirlooms dating back to her great-grandfather’s time when the house was first built. All of it embraced her and welcomed her into a safe place she would never trade for the world.
She might have been alone here, but she was happy. Here, she was able to let down her long brown hair, freeing the waves and curls she tamed back every day in a ponytail. Here, she could let loose and be who she wanted to be and not have to fake her own existence for the sake of being polite and normal.
Once she had drained her first cup, Belle begrudgingly stood from the sofa and made her way into the adjoining kitchen to pour herself another. Two more and she’d be ready for bed soon, the pacifying effects of the brew thoroughly cleansing away her anxiety. Her socked feet strode across the black and white checkered tiles, the ones her grandfather had laid when he first brought his new bride home. Her father once told the story of how she took one look at the patterned vinyl and demanded it be replaced. The project was completed in just two days before her grandmother made some comment about the cabinets, and they were replaced too.
Now, dark wood offset the green countertops, giving the rustic kitchen a mis-matched look that Belle couldn’t bring herself to remodel. There was too much character here, and even the thought of replacing the old appliances made her feel a little sad. So, she tolerated the dryer that had a mind of its own in the corner with the washer, and the gas stove that didn’t always want to start, and the refrigerator whose icemaker broke when she was ten years old.
No, she wouldn’t change a single thing about any of it.
As she poured hot water from her overused kettle over a fresh teabag, she heard a loud crash followed by a peel of thunder. Belle glanced over her shoulder to the darkened window but saw nothing except the pattering of raindrops against the glass.
She went straight to her laptop table and peered at the surveillance videos. She couldn’t see anything obviously wrong until one of the feeds showed that the barn door had come unlatched and banged furiously against the outer wall. This startled the horses and though there was no sound on the footage, she could hear all three mares knicker and the loud cries of the ewes over the pouring rain.
With a sigh, she knew she’d have to wait to start on that second cup of tea until she fixed the door. But just when she was about to turn away, Belle caught sight of something in the camera. For just a moment, she thought she saw something moving outside of the animal pens. It was too big to be a sheep and stood upright like a person.
She stared at the screen longer, her pulse racing as she tried to make sense of what she saw. Nothing moved again, but that didn’t keep her from spiraling into a panic. Maybe someone had broken into her barn. Her entire body went ice cold at the thought.
Another clash of lightning made the power flicker and she could see the bright green glow of the string lights flicker and die in the live video feed. Belle had convinced her father years ago to rig the barn with electricity so they didn’t have to take a lantern or flashlight with them if they had to check on the animals at night. However, that power had always been glitchy and unreliable at best. She had left the lights on to give some comfort to the animals during the storm, but who knew if they would turn back on.
Donning her rubber boots and raincoat, she grabbed a flashlight from the hook on the wall and dove out into the storm as she tried to ignore every instinct to stay inside where it was safe and dry.
Mud sloshed all around her pant legs, soaking them through until she felt the water chill her ankles and seep into her socks. Not even her boots could keep out the torrential downpour. Plump, cool drops splashed on her face, thoroughly dampening it despite the hood that concealed much of her head.
The rain fell across the yellow beam of light, almost obscuring her view. Somehow through the darkness and haze of rain, she saw the barn door slapping against the front side of the barn with every gust of wind.
Belle stopped to examine the damage, her shoes sinking into the deep puddles that had already formed on the ground. She knew for a fact that she had locked up the barn before going back inside that night. The padlock couldn’t have been knocked off by the wind and the key was still sitting on the kitchen counter. It had to have been broken by something. Or someone.
Fear rose up in her throat, but she tread softly toward the barn doors. Belle swallowed hard as she inspected the lock and found that it, along with the latch, had been ripped completely off, and lay in the mud just in front of the entrance. Whoever had gotten in was either incredibly strong or had a tool sturdy enough to rip off the lock.
When she shined her flashlight around the opening, she saw what the intruder must have used. An iron crowbar lay in the dirt just inside the threshold. It hadn’t been there before, but Belle recognized it as her father’s. His initials had been etched into the handle when he forged it himself for a school project.
Belle picked up the crowbar and swung the door shut behind her. She pushed back her raincoat hood and shined her flashlight around inside of the barn, willing for the beam to stop bouncing as her hands continued to shake. She swept it along the horse stalls, then to the sheep’s pen to the far back right corner, then to the old run-down Volkswagen opposite from them.
There was a thickness in the cool air that confirmed her suspicions that something wasn’t right. Whoever had broken into her barn must have still been there, lurking in the shadows where her flashlight couldn’t penetrate.
After another quick check with her light, she roamed to more closely inspect the barn. Nothing appeared to be missing in the way of supplies or animals. Yet, there was still an unease that filled her spirit. It just didn’t feel right, and she hated the way her heart pounded against her ribs with painful urgency.
Thinking that it might have been the storm making both herself and her animals nervous, Belle turned to leave, willing to dismiss what she saw on the camera feed as a moth or bug that got in the way of the lens. Maybe the wind had picked up a sturdy piece of lumber and knocked it against the lock to make it fly off instead of the crowbar she found. The wood of the barn door wasn’t new by any means and probably bore the beginnings of dry rot anyway. She couldn’t remember the last time the latch had been replaced, so it was possible that there was no intruder after all. That’s what she wanted to believe.
Then, she heard a sneeze. It wasn’t an animal sneeze, as she knew them all too well. This was a human sneeze and it sounded distinctly male.
Belle whipped around, crowbar poised and ready to throw or beat down whoever came near her. Her flashlight darted to all the corners, but still found nothing.
Finally, she called out in the strongest voice she could muster, “Show yourself now or I’m calling the cops!”
It took a moment, but there came some movement from the stack of hay bales near the back wall. Belle, as shaky as she was, stood her ground and gripped her weapon tighter. Though her teeth were clamped tight, her ragged breaths came sputtering out from her nostrils. There was no hiding her fear, no matter how she tried.
A man came forward with his arms raised in submission. He was shirtless, only clothed in a pair of battered jeans, torn and stained. His body made the air in Belle’s lungs freeze. Residual rainwater dripped from his barrel-chest down his toned, rippling abs and curving along his narrowing waist. He had broad shoulders and beefy arms as thick around as her thighs, all muscle and power.
Her flashlight stopped at his neck, but her eyes continued to roam upward. A pair of pure blue eyes sparkled from beneath dark brows. A beard covered his jaw and around his mouth, as black as the night sky. His equally dark, damp hair was slightly flattened and tangled by the storm, its tips grazing against the bare skin of his collarbone.
But it wasn’t the striking contrast of his hair and eyes that stunned her. It was the way he looked directly at her, ignoring the weapon she held, and the harsh light shining on his torso. He wasn’t afraid, but neither was he on the offensive. There wasn’t a hint of malice anywhere in his expression. There wasn’t a hint of anything. He met her stern gaze with a steady, gentle one that both intrigued and unnerved her even further.
Yet, somehow, she couldn’t look away, even if she wanted to. She would have given anything to drop her eyes in submission. Her mask wanted to come up, to protect her from this man and his hypnotic gaze. But, it couldn’t. Why couldn’t it? Maybe it was the long day or the tea she had drank earlier. It put her at a disadvantage, and she wasn’t prepared to face another person that evening. Exposed, caught off-guard, and terribly vulnerable. Anything could go wrong here, and she needed to be brave and detached. But the mask wouldn’t stick as long as this man was looking at her like that.
They stood there, in a stalemate for what seemed like several minutes before he spoke in a deep voice that rattled her bones. “Are you still going to call the police?”
The Lion
The Redemption Duet Book 2
Belle Clearwater’s prayers had been answered, but there was still so much left to discover. Now determined to reject her mental illness, she’s decided to be brave and not let her anxiety disorder take her away from what matters. With the help of her friends and her faith, she’s sure that she can finally have her life back. Something greater is stirring in her heart and the man that had served as her solid ground might just send her world off kilter again. All it takes is one moment of honesty.
Against every bit of common sense, Leo Thompsons has chosen to stay in Levi. The Darkness and his murderous brother are closing in, but he believed that as long as he has Belle, he can find a way to break the curse upon his soul. With the power of love and prayer, he’s finally fighting for his life and the chance to share that life with the beautiful farm girl. Fate brought them together, but is he strong enough to rebel against the forces of evil that have hounded him for so long? Can he, once and for all, defeat his demons?
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The heaviness continued to drop onto his chest as Leo drove further and further away from Levi. Further away from Belle. It always happened every time he distanced himself from her or the farm. The only way he could reason it was that it must have had something to do with all that praying she did.
Ever since that night when she first dispelled the darkness with one small, impromptu prayer, Leo began to see the pattern. On those days she prayed, the darkness stayed away. His nights weren’t tormented by dreams of fire and death. His soul didn’t feel as weighted and burdened. So, each morning, he asked if she prayed and if she said she hadn’t yet, he would slyly drop a hint that she should. Of course, she didn’t complain. Why should she? It was nothing to her. Just a string of words sent up to God to protect them and the farm from evil.
But to Leo, it was everything.
It meant the difference between walking around with an easy smile, because he had finally settled where he wanted to stay, or looking over his shoulder and starting at every loud noise, thinking it might be the demon coming to collect his payment.
It took a great deal of courage to mount his motorcycle and head south toward Little Rock, far away from Belle’s protection and deeper into the world he had tried to leave behind. It was all for her, though. If he didn’t do this, it’d take that much longer for Belle to achieve her dreams.
One call to an old acquaintance – the only one he had left that would still speak to him – sealed his plans for the evening and with a little money in his pocket and a change of clothes in his duffle bag, he left in the late afternoon.
The two-and-a-half-hour drive did little to settle his nerves or clear his head. He used to love riding on the highway. Of all the vehicles he had ever driven, the maneuverability of a motorcycle appealed to him the most. He could weave in and out of traffic, zoom on and off exits and effectively lose whoever might happen to be chasing him. On those drives when he could relax, let the wind pound his face and feel the grind of the wheels on the blacktop, Leo could zone out and not think so much. He didn’t have to think about his past or his future. Just this moment with only him, the road, and the deafening rumble of the engine beneath him.
He could do anything but relax now, because he knew exactly where he was going and what he’d be doing that night. Something he thought he’d never have to do again after he arrived in Levi.
It didn’t take long to find the place. Mack gave detailed directions that a toddler could follow. Even over the roar of his bike, he could hear the multitude of voices and music booming out of the warehouse just outside of town. The parking lot was packed, but he managed to find a cramped spot on the side closest to the river.
Leo didn’t make eye contact with the people he passed as he made his way toward the entrance. Smokers, groups of men with beer bottles in hand, couples displaying their affection in obscene ways, bookies, dealers, and thugs. It wasn’t so long ago that he knew this scene by heart. Being in Levi had cleansed him somehow and as he approached the bouncers at the door, he began to question himself again. The darkness practically lived here, and in places like it where sin went unchecked. He could feel its pull, like a black hole that Leo had once dangerously skirted the edges of not so long ago. And here he was again.
Did he really want to do this? He was capable of it. He was completely capable of winning the money for Belle’s stallion. But there was no turning back now. He had already called the man in Fayetteville and made the deal. He was expecting the money first thing in the morning.
“Mack called me in,” he told the two bouncers who were just a hair bigger than him.
The bald one flipped through his clipboard while the other sized Leo up, taking in his jeans and leather jacket. Leo could admit that he didn’t look like he was ready for a fight, but he never needed a fancy rig to pound another man into the dirt. He learned bareknuckle boxing when he was just a teen in Brooklyn. Most who did this for a living couldn’t say that.
The bouncer made it to the final page and tapped at the bottom of the sheet. “He penned you in.”
“Realized he couldn’t leave out his best guy.” Leo gave them both a cocky smile and they reluctantly let him through. In a place like this, arrogance was the common language.
The stench of cigarette smoke and beer hit him, making his eyes water a bit before he could adjust. The bass from the speakers beat against his ears and made the fabric of his clothes vibrate, once more dazing him before he could get a handle on his senses. He squinted against the flashing strobe lights as he pushed his way past the throngs.
The tip of his boot hit something on the floor and sent it rolling. He didn’t have to look to know it was a syringe. His arms reflexively jerked away from the seductive touches of the women who tried to grab his attention as he looked for Mack in the crowd. The fight was still a quarter of an hour away. If he guessed right, the man would be near the bar, taking more bets and organizing the tournament tree one last time.
Leo felt something brush at his pockets and he turned just in time to seize the hand that tried to make off with his keys. What he didn’t expect was for his fingers to connect around a small wrist. The boy looked up at him, the colorful lights like a kaleidoscope across his youthful face. He couldn’t have been more than ten years old.
He snatched away what was his and set the boy free, knowing he would just steal again from someone else. As much as he hated it, the boy wasn’t his responsibility and it wasn’t his place to correct him. With a sigh, he skimmed the crowd again and found the Red Socks ball cap bobbing lively across the sea of strangers.
Leo pushed through a cluster of drunken college students and edged past a tight grouping of ladies in leather skirts dancing with martini glasses before he could put his hand on Mack’s shoulder.
The manager jumped and spun around, wide eyes looking through a pair of tinted glasses. When he saw who had grabbed him, he let out an exaggerated breath.
“Scared me, man!” he shouted over the trap music. “Lookin’ good!” Mack reached out and squeezed Leo’s bicep in the kind of way that reminded him of a man who looked to buy a piece of livestock and wanted to test its sturdiness.
Leo smacked his hand away, effectively startling the manager. “I need a place to put my stuff,” he said, jerking his chin toward the duffle bag slung across his chest. Mack recovered and offered out his hand to take it there for himself. “Someplace no one will get to it,” he clarified, unafraid to sneer at him. It didn’t pay to be friendly in a place like this.
Mack’s throat worked when Leo dropped into that serious tone and then nodded. “All right. All right. I’ve got a locker in the backroom. You can put it there.” He handed Leo the tiny padlock key and gave him his usual thorough directions.
“When’s my fight?” Leo asked, making the key disappear in his fist, so no one would try to pinch it.
“You’re my first matchup!” Mack announced proudly, his one gold tooth blinking in the club lights. As if to prove that he wasn’t lying, he took the dry erase board he had been working on at the bar and showed him. The column of names on one side of the tree didn’t matter to him. The one blank spot where the winner’s name would be written did.
“Rules?”
Mack began to list out the scant regulations set down for the tournament. The only restriction appeared to be the usual. No eye gouging and no groin shots. Everything else was permitted until his opponent tapped out or passed out.
“Kicks and grappling?” Leo asked.
The manager grinned. “All fair game.”
“Payout?”
“Six Gs.”
More than enough. Leo nodded in approval and pulled out his wallet to count out the bills.
“Buy-in’s five hundred.”
He froze in the middle of his count and shot Mack a glare that could peel paint. “You told me it was four.”
The wanker only shrugged. “Must have misspoke.”
Leo feigned a smile. “Must have.” He stacked what bills were needed to get him into the fight and held them out for Mack between his two fingers. Before the manager could take them, Leo grabbed for his shirt collar and pulled him in close. “You better not cross me on this,” he growled in warning. “If I find out you skimmed my winnings again, I will find you.”
And Mack knew Leo could. He didn’t have connections, but he had his demon who loved a good fight. The bookie’s hairy brows shot up and he nodded quickly, hands raised as if he had already been caught in the act.
“We’re clear,” he assured. “But I didn’t cross you that time, you know. It was – “
Leo shoved him against the bar counter, knocking over a few beer bottles in the process as Mack’s feet were nearly lifted off the floor. He could have easily snapped this weasel’s spine if he wanted to. Good thing for him, Leo still needed the money.
“I know it was you,” he snarled, getting close enough, so only Mack could hear him. “Be grateful I’m in a forgiving mood tonight. Otherwise, you’d be in the river by now.”
Before Mack had a chance to open his mouth and dig himself a deeper grave, Leo tucked the wad of bills in his front shirt pocket. Under the watch of several patrons to the bar, he let Mack nearly crumble in a heap and strode away to find the locker room.
He regretted nothing. Mack was a snake, no different than any of the other managers and bookies he had met across the country. They would sooner double-cross someone they thought wouldn’t notice and take a bigger portion of the payout. Leo wouldn’t be fooled. Not tonight. Not ever again.
Once more, he had to maneuver his way through the crowd, upsetting plenty and spilling drinks along the way. The long hallway to the locker room might have been the only empty place in the club. Can lights lit the path that stretched in a straight line toward the back of the complex, but shadows lined the walls and spaces between.
Leo gave himself permission to breathe again, but the darkness was close. He could tell in the subtle drop in temperature and the way the lights flickered and dimmed. It didn’t surprise him that the demon would show up here. Away from Levi, away from his lighthouse of calm, Leo was vulnerable again. But this was what the darkness wanted. Pain, fear, blood.
“I almost thought we’d never be here again.”
The voice scratched at the corners of his mind, slinking with him along the corridor. He knew, if he cared to look, what he would see. Either a floating immaterial orb of black mist, or a form that appeared much less sinister, like a swindling gambler or underhanded dealer ready to make bargains on souls. By the more substantial presence in his peripheral vision, he knew it was the latter.
“Don’t get excited,” Leo said. “I’m not staying.”
The demon edged closer in the form of a man wearing a neatly pressed suit and jacket, jet black hair and coals for eyes gleaming in the fluorescent light. “Oh, come on. You know you miss this.”
Leo scoffed. “Yeah, I totally miss the smell of piss, alcohol, and weed. Such a pleasant smell.”
A disturbing laugh bubbled up from the demon’s throat. “There’s that humor I missed. See, we’re so much better off here than in that little town in the middle of nowhere.”
He slid a scathing glare to the darkness, but wouldn’t slow or protest. “Here to collect payment?”
“You’ve had a week off, Leo. Thanks to that little – “
“If you call her anything but a lady, I’ll – “
“What?” he snapped. “Punch me? Strangle me? You forget that you can’t do anything, Leo. You’re powerless and always will be.”
He didn’t need to be reminded. Whatever the darkness wanted to do, he could do it. Except when Belle prayed. That was his only saving grace, but there was no way her prayers could reach this far. Could they?
“Just pay attention during the fight and you’ll get all the payment you need,” Leo directed, slamming the door in the demon’s face as he walked into the locker room.
It did little good. The darkness rematerialized beside him as he worked the padlock with the key he had been given.
“I know why you’re doing this,” the demon said, grinning to show his perfectly straight white teeth. “You’re trying to make your girl happy. It won’t work.”
“Watch me,” he dared.
“I’ll make you throw the fight. Take you out of the first round before you can get anywhere close to the semi-finals.”
“You won’t do shi-“ Leo stopped himself and bit back the word he wanted to use. “You won’t do anything. Think of all the lads I’ll beat into the floor tonight. You need that payment. Remember our deal?”
Leo stripped off his shirt and wadded it up before zipping open his bag to shove it inside. He then set to taking off his shoes and socks to join his shirt.
“And you remember what I told you? I need more than the typical payment, especially since your brother is getting closer.”
One thing about demons, he had learned, was that they didn’t have an ounce of loyalty in them, not even for the man who had tethered them to a victim. Twelve years he had lived with this curse, the darkness serving as the constant thorn in his side. But he did have one useful thing going for him. He told Leo when Matthew was catching up.
Leo shot a look to the demon to see if he was lying just to get a bigger blood payment. That was the agreement they had made months ago. If he did his part and gave the darkness what he wanted, Leo and Belle would be left alone. Of course, the game changed when Leo decided to pursue her. Now that they were living together in a hotspot that the darkness didn’t care to be in, the cost of their protection went up.
“How close?” he asked, hoping for an honest answer.
“Very. And I would rather not be around when he does come. Think of how mad he’ll be when he finds out I’ve been masking your trail for the sake of an extra fix.”
That was laughable. “You poor wee thing,” he mocked. He crammed his duffle bag in the locker, thoughtless to how the luggage would damage Mack’s package of cigarettes or the tiny bundle of cocaine tucked away in the back. Leo hoped he busted the plastic bag.
“Why don’t we stay in Little Rock? It’s such a fun town,” the darkness suggested as Leo began the methodical process of wrapping his hands in the gauze and athletic tape to protect his knuckles. By the end of the night, they would be stained red with blood.
“After this is over, I’m going to Fayetteville.”
The demon came around to face Leo. “There’s nothing in Fayetteville worth seeing.”
“And then I’m going back to Levi,” Leo stated impatiently, as if he had been saying it all night in one way or another. He wouldn’t leave Belle, no matter how much the darkness wanted him to. Like she said that day when he almost skipped town without telling her, he needed to take control of his life, one choice at a time. This choice, though made for odd purposes, was what he wanted, and the darkness would not pressure him into returning to this way of living – if it could even be called that.
“Why not stay a few days?” he said, almost whining like a child who was denied candy and was one refusal away from throwing a tantrum. “We could use some of the winnings to get a hotel, order room service, order some girls and – “
Leo shot daggers with his eyes that instantly made the vile mouth shut tight. He would have threatened to leave Little Rock right then if he thought it would do him any good. The darkness was smart enough to know that Leo needed this money just as badly as he needed the blood payment.
He finished wrapping his hands and left the locker room just as he heard the music dim for a minute to allow the presenter to publicize the first match. He didn’t care if the darkness followed or not. He’d be in the crowd, watching, absorbing the pain and misery of Leo’s opponents. It’d be just like old times.
Unceremoniously, Leo entered the main hall where the fighting would take place. His bare feet slapped against the cold concrete floor, wetted by the spilled beer and liquor from earlier that night. Mack was by his side as if he were a personal sponsor and hyped up the crowd when his name blared over the intercom. Men roared and cheered while women let out whistles and offers that were lost in the din.
He was led to the center of the room where one bright light hovered over the space sectioned off for the tournament.
Spectators leaned on the rope partitions to get a look at Leo as he swaggered forward to meet his first opponent. As always, his stomach tangled, but then he reminded himself that as long as his brother’s curse tarnished his soul, there was little man could do to him. He was kept alive to suffer and cause suffering for others. He’d get hurt, but death wasn’t in his near future. Not yet.
The ropes were closed behind him and he raised his fists, keeping his stance easy and light. The other man, leaner and an obvious novice, blew air past his protective mouthpiece and hopped about like an eager boxer.
Don’t waste your energy, he told himself. You’ve got a long night to go.
When the bell sounded, and the crowd shouted for their favorites, the thinner man came charging forward with a wild hook. Leo dodged and sent an uppercut into his ribs. The guy recoiled and put a hand to his side, eyes wide like he had never expected to be hit.
Leo shook out his hands and flexed his unpracticed knuckles. His fight with Drake was the last time he’d ever hit bone that hard. He readied himself again for the next assault, but was disappointed when the man came at him again with a similar greenhorn move.
He left himself open and Leo took the opportunity. He ducked and wrapped him in a chokehold from behind. One kick to the back of his leg buckled him to the ground. For a minute or two, they grappled with one another. Leo saw stars each time a punch connected with his head, but he willed himself to stay conscious during every reversal. Limbs twisted as they rolled across the concrete, scraping the skin of their arms and backs along the way.
Each time he thought the guy would tap out, he kept coming at him with more desperate jabs and kicks. Leo felt a bit of blood trickle from his nose after an elbow slammed into his face. He could taste its metallic essence on his lips.
He was kicked off and stumbled backward, giving his opponent time to jump to his unsteady feet. Leo wouldn’t give him the chance. He landed one solid punch to the jaw. He heard the crack, but didn’t care. The man finally crumbled to the floor and he waited for a hand to smack the pavement.
When it did, Leo spat a bit of the blood from his mouth and looked up. His eyes instantly met the devilish stare of the darkness in the crowd. The black pits that bore through him told enough. This tournament wouldn’t be a walk in the park for him like it used to be. The demon would drag this out and make the poor boys he fought think they had a chance against him.
The darkness wasn’t just in the business of making Leo’s life a living hell. He’d also drag along any other susceptible soul with him. That was why he needed to protect Belle, the only thing he cared about anymore.
An author of paranormal and urban fantasy fiction, Sheritta Bitikofer lives for the deep, engaging stories that enthrall readers from cover to cover. As a wife and fur-mama of eclectic tastes, she can be found roaming Civil War battlefields, perusing the romance section of the bookstore, or relaxing with a plate of chili cheese fries.
Take a look at the books she has available and stay tuned for new releases.
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How to Get a Personal Loan With a Credit Rating 550 or Less|Trainee Loan Hero
There’s poor credit – and then there are credit scores that make it close, if not impossible, to borrow at all.
If you need a personal loan, a credit score that’s 550 or less makes it difficult to qualify. But it’s still possible to get low credit score personal loans.
What is a bad credit score for personal loans?
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If you can’t wait to improve your credit, you can try reaching out to lenders that offer finance for bad credit. For these personal loans, a credit score of 550 or under might not be an obstacle to qualifying. You can apply for a pre-approval to find out if you qualify without having to fill out an application or undergo a hard credit check.
A trusted lender we recommend is OppLoans. Customers with a FICO score under 600 still have a shot at approval for an OppLoans personal loan depending on the loan amount requested and minimum income requirements. The lender offers loan amounts ranging from $500 to $4,000 and loan terms up to 24 months.
You must get your paychecks through direct deposit and live in a state where OppLoans operates. This includes Alabama, Alaska, Arizona, California, Delaware, District of Columbia, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Idaho, Illinois, Indiana, Kansas, Kentucky, Michigan, Minnesota, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New Mexico, North Dakota, Ohio, Oklahoma, Oregon, South Carolina, South Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Virginia, Washington, Wisconsin, Wyoming.
3. Enlist a cosigner
If you can’t rely on your own credit score to get a personal loan, try borrowing someone else’s good credit with a cosigner. A cosigner is a third party (usually a close family member or friend) who has agreed to repay your loan if you should default on it.
Choose a lender that accepts cosigners for personal loans, like Earnest��or Citizens Bank. You’ll need to ask someone with good credit to act as your personal loan co-applicant. Their positive history will help offset your poor credit score, increasing your chances of approval.
If a lender does not accept cosigners for whatever reason and you’re having a hard time meeting minimum income requirements, see if the lender will consider spousal income. OppLoans is a lender that allows applicants to report spousal income on their personal loan applications for approval.
4. Ask friends or family members for a loan
Getting a personal loan from an individual usually doesn’t include a credit check. So for these personal loans, credit scores of 550 or under aren’t a big deal. You can ask a family member or friend who has the cash to lend it to you.
Before you borrow this way, fully outline and agree on the terms ahead of time. And keep up on payments to ensure the loan doesn’t hurt the relationship.
5. Get a secured loan
An unsecured personal loan might be a long shot with a credit score under 580. But you might be able to borrow against an asset to get a secured loan, including:
Check with your bank for these types of loans. Credit unions also commonly offer savings- or CD-secured loans to help members rebuild credit.
6. Ask the lender to reconsider
If you apply for a personal loan and get rejected, you can always follow-up with the lender and ask them to reconsider, according to Debt.org.
First, you’ll want to make sure you have some good reasons why they should approve your for a loan – despite your bad credit. What other financial factors show you’re a safe bet? What additional information can you give that proves you’re a responsible borrower?
Maybe you have a high income and could easily afford the new debt. Or you have a good explanation for a past delinquency. If your credit file is thin, you could try to provide proof of positive payment history toward other bills, like your rent.
This is a bit of a long shot, but it can be worth trying. Chances of success will be higher the more proof of financial stability and security you can give. It might also help to try a credit union, which might be more flexible in their underwriting.
7. Watch for predatory lending
Last but not least – don’t sign up for a predatory loan just because you really need cash now. This includes payday loans, car title loans or advance-fee loans; they’re among the most expensive ways to borrow.
You’ll get stuck with costs you can’t afford that will only worsen your situation and could even hurt your credit. Protect yourself and watch out for predatory lenders. Take your time, research options and don’t borrow money you can’t afford to.
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Student Loan Hero Advertiser Disclosure
Our team at Student Loan Hero works hard to find and recommend products and services that we believe are of high quality and will make a positive impact in your life. We sometimes earn a sales commission or advertising fee when recommending various products and services to you. Similar to when you are being sold any product or service, be sure to read the fine print understand what you are buying, and consult a licensed professional if you have any concerns. Student Loan Hero is not a lender or investment advisor. We are not involved in the loan approval or investment process, nor do we make credit or investment related decisions. The rates and terms listed on our website are estimates and are subject to change at any time. Please do your homework and let us know if you have any questions or concerns.
Student Loan Hero Advertiser Disclosure
Our team at Student Loan Hero works hard to find and recommend products and services that we believe are of high quality and will make a positive impact in your life. We sometimes earn a sales commission or advertising fee when recommending various products and services to you. Similar to when you are being sold any product or service, be sure to read the fine print understand what you are buying, and consult a licensed professional if you have any concerns. Student Loan Hero is not a lender or investment advisor. We are not involved in the loan approval or investment process, nor do we make credit or investment related decisions. The rates and terms listed on our website are estimates and are subject to change at any time. Please do your homework and let us know if you have any questions or concerns.
LenderRATES (APR)loan amount
7.73% – 29.99% $1,000 to $50,000
6.26% – 14.87%1 $5,000 to $100,000
6.99% – 35.97%* $1,000 to $50,000
56.00% – 199.00%2 $500 to $4,000
5.99% – 24.99%3 $5,000 to $35,000
4.99% – 29.99%4 $10,000 to $35,000
Disclaimer: Student Loan Hero is a subsidiary of LendingTree
1 Includes AutoPay discount. Important Disclosures for SoFi.
SoFi Disclosures
Personal Loans: Fixed rates from 6.990% APR to 14.865% APR (with AutoPay). Variable rates from 6.255% APR to 12.555% APR (with AutoPay). SoFi rate ranges are current as of September 1, 2018 and are subject to change without notice. Not all rates and amounts available in all states. See Personal Loan eligibility details. Not all applicants qualify for the lowest rate. If approved for a loan, to qualify for the lowest rate, you must have a responsible financial history and meet other conditions. Your actual rate will be within the range of rates listed above and will depend on a variety of factors, including evaluation of your credit worthiness, years of professional experience, income and other factors. See APR examples and terms. Interest rates on variable rate loans are capped at 14.95%. Lowest variable rate of 6.255% APR assumes current index rate derived from the 1-month LIBOR of 2.08% plus 4.425% margin minus 0.25% AutoPay discount. For the SoFi variable rate loan, the 1-month LIBOR index will adjust monthly and the loan payment will be re-amortized and may change monthly. APRs for variable rate loans may increase after origination if the LIBOR index increases. The SoFi 0.25% AutoPay interest rate reduction requires you to agree to make monthly principal and interest payments by an automatic monthly deduction from a savings or checking account. The benefit will discontinue and be lost for periods in which you do not pay by automatic deduction from a savings or checking account.
To check the rates and terms you qualify for, SoFi conducts a soft credit pull that will not affect your credit score. However, if you choose a product and continue your application, we will request your full credit report from one or more consumer reporting agencies, which is considered a hard credit pull.See Consumer Licenses.
Minimum Credit Score: Not all applicants who meet SoFi’s minimum credit score requirements are approved for a personal loan. In addition to meeting SoFi’s minimum eligibility criteria, applicants must also meet other credit and underwriting requirements to qualify.
SoFi Personal Loans are not available to residents of MS. Maximum interest rate on loans for residents of AK and WY is 9.99% APR, for residents of IL with loans over $40,000 is 8.99% APR, for residents of TX is 9.99% APR on terms greater than 5 years, for residents of CO, CT, HI, VA, SC is 11.99% APR, and for residents of ME is 12.24% APR. Personal loans not available to residents of MI who already have a student loan with SoFi. Personal Loans minimum loan amount is $5,000. Residents of AZ, MA, and NH have a minimum loan amount of $10,001. Residents of KY have a minimum loan amount of $15,001. Residents of PA have a minimum loan amount of $25,001. Variable rates not available to residents of AK, TX, VA, WY, or for residents of IL for loans greater than $40,000.
Terms and Conditions Apply: SOFI RESERVES THE RIGHT TO MODIFY OR DISCONTINUE PRODUCTS AND BENEFITS AT ANY TIME WITHOUT NOTICE. To qualify, a borrower must be a U.S. citizen or permanent resident in an eligible state and meet SoFi’s underwriting requirements. Not all borrowers receive the lowest rate. To qualify for the lowest rate, you must have a responsible financial history and meet other conditions. If approved, your actual rate will be within the range of rates listed above and will depend on a variety of factors, including term of loan, a responsible financial history, years of experience, income and other factors. Rates and Terms are subject to change at anytime without notice and are subject to state restrictions. SoFi refinance loans are private loans and do not have the same repayment options that the federal loan program offers such as Income Based Repayment or Income Contingent Repayment or PAYE. Licensed by the Department of Business Oversight under the California Financing Law License No. 6054612. SoFi loans are originated by SoFi Lending Corp., NMLS # 1121636. (www.nmlsconsumeraccess.org)
2 Important Disclosures for Opploans.
Opploans Disclosures
Direct Deposit required for payroll.
Opploans currently operates in these states:
To qualify, a borrower must (i) be a U.S. citizen or permanent resident; (ii) reside in a state where OppLoans operates; (iii) have direct deposit; (iv) meet income requirements; (v) be 18 years of age (19 in Alabama); and, (vi) meet verification standards.
This information is current as of October 10, 2017 and is subject to change. Opportunity Financial, LLC lends or arranges loans in the following states: Alabama, California, Delaware, Florida, Idaho, Illinois, Kansas, Maryland, Missouri, Nevada, New Mexico, Ohio, South Carolina, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Virginia, and Wisconsin. We do not lend or arrange loans in all states. Opportunity Financial offers line of credit products in: Kansas, Tennessee and Virginia. Please note: This is an expensive form of credit. This service is not intended to provide a solution for longer-term credit or other financial needs. Loans made or arranged by Opportunity Financial are designed to help you meet your short-term borrowing needs. Loan amounts may vary and are dependent upon qualification criteria and state law. Refer to Loan Cost & Terms at www.opploans.com for additional details. Complete disclosures of APR, fees and payment terms are provided within the transaction documents, such as the Loan Agreement. First-time Opportunity Financial customers typically qualify for an installment loan of $1,000 to $5,000 with an APR from 59% to 199%. For example, a $1,000 loan made or arranged by Opportunity Financial with 12 bi-weekly payments of $130 has a 199% APR. After the 12th successful payment, the loan would be paid in full.
Applications processed and approved before 7:30 p.m. ET Monday-Friday are typically funded the next business day. In some cases, we may not be able to verify your application information and may ask you to provide certain documents. Some customers applying for a loan may be required to submit additional documentation due to state law and qualification criteria.
Lower APRs and longer terms when compared to a typical payday lending product. According to the Consumer Federation of America, a non-profit consumer advocacy group, payday loans range in size from $100 to $1,000, depending on state legal maximums and carry an average APR of 400% and an average loan term of two weeks. The maximum APR for a loan offered by OppLoans is 199% and loan sizes range from $1,000-$5,000 with a typical term of six months dependent on the state law.
As of October 17, 2017. Ratings on third-party websites may periodically change; please check the third-party websites for up-to-date reviews and ratings. Google+ Rating: 4.8 out of 5 based on 1,824 reviews. Facebook Rating: 4.7 out of 5 based on 270 reviews.
3 Includes AutoPay discount. Important Disclosures for Payoff.
Payoff Disclosures
All loans are subject to credit review and approval. Your actual rate depends upon credit score, loan amount, loan term, credit usage and history. Currently loans are not offered in: MA, MS, NE, NV, OH, and WV.
4 Important Disclosures for FreedomPlus.
FreedomPlus Disclosures
All loans available through FreedomPlus.com are made by Cross River Bank, a New Jersey State Chartered Commercial Bank, Member FDIC, Equal Housing Lender. All loan and rate terms are subject to eligibility restrictions, application review, credit score, loan amount, loan term, lender approval, and credit usage and history. Eligibility for a loan is not guaranteed. Loans are not available to residents of all states – please call a FreedomPlus representative for further details. The following limitations, in addition to others, shall apply: FreedomPlus does not arrange loans in: (i) Arizona under $10,500; (ii) Massachusetts under $6,500, (iii) Ohio under $5,500, and (iv) Georgia under $3,500. Repayment periods range from 24 to 60 months. The range of APRs on loans made available through FreedomPlus is 4.99% to a maximum of 29.99%. APR. The APR calculation includes all applicable fees, including the loan origination fee. For Example, a four year $20,000 loan with an interest rate of 15.49% and corresponding APR of 18.34% would have an estimated monthly payment of $561.60 and a total cost payable of $7,948.13. To qualify for a 4.99% APR loan, a borrower will need excellent credit on a loan of $15,000 with a term of 24 months, and qualify for at least two of the following discounts: (1) add a co-borrower who has sufficient income; (2) use at least fifty percent of the loan proceeds to directly pay off existing debt; or (3) show proof of having at least forty-thousand dollars in retirement savings – contact FreedomPlus for further details.
* Important Disclosures for Upgrade Bank.
Upgrade Bank Disclosures
* Your loan terms are not guaranteed and are subject to our verification and review process. You may be asked to provide additional documents to enable us to verify your income and your identity. This rate includes an Autopay APR reduction of 0.5%. By enrolling in Autopay your payments will be automatically deducted from you bank account. Selecting Autopay is optional. Annual Percentage Rate is inclusive of a loan origination fee, which is deducted from the loan proceeds. Late payments or subsequent charges and fees may increase the cost of your fixed rate loan. All loans made by WebBank, member FDIC. Please refer to Upgrade’s Terms of Use and Borrower Agreement for all terms, conditions and requirements.
** Accept your loan offer and your funds will be sent to your bank via ACH within one (1) business day of clearing necessary verifications. Availability of the funds is dependent on how quickly your bank processes this transaction. From the time of approval, funds should be available within four (4) business days.
Disclaimer: Student Loan Hero is a subsidiary of LendingTree
SoFi Disclosures
Opploans Disclosures
Direct Deposit required for payroll.
Opploans currently operates in these states:
Payoff Disclosures
FreedomPlus Disclosures
Upgrade Bank Disclosures
* Your loan terms are not guaranteed and are subject to our verification and review process. You may be asked to provide additional documents to enable us to verify your income and your identity. This rate includes an Autopay APR reduction of 0.5%. By enrolling in Autopay your payments will be automatically deducted from you bank account. Selecting Autopay is optional. Annual Percentage Rate is inclusive of a loan origination fee, which is deducted from the loan proceeds. Late payments or subsequent charges and fees may increase the cost of your fixed rate loan. All loans made by WebBank, member FDIC. Please refer to Upgrade’s Terms of Use and Borrower Agreement for all terms, conditions and requirements.
** Accept your loan offer and your funds will be sent to your bank via ACH within one (1) business day of clearing necessary verifications. Availability of the funds is dependent on how quickly your bank processes this transaction. From the time of approval, funds should be available within four (4) business days.
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10 Motorcycle safety tips for new riders
https://frankgiunta.com/10-motorcycle-safety-tips-for-new-riders/
10 Motorcycle safety tips for new riders
10 Motorcycle safety tips for new riders
Expert advice for first-time and returning riders
Published: April 2013 by Consumer Reports
Motorcycles are fun and fuel efficient. That’s not news to anyone who’s ridden one. But neither is the fact that they’re also way more dangerous than a car. The cold reality is that motorcyclists are 30 times more likely to die in a crash than people in a car, according to the Insurance Institute for Highway Safety (IIHS). And nearly half of all motorcycle deaths are the result of single-vehicle crashes.
The numbers are even scarier for older riders, who are increasingly taking up or returning to motorcycling after many years. Because of slower reflexes, weaker eyesight, more brittle bones, and other disadvantages, riders over 60 years old are three times more likely to be hospitalized after a crash than younger ones.
Still, many enthusiasts enjoy a lifetime of riding without injury. The key to optimizing your odds is to be prepared and avoid risks. Keep in mind that 48 percent of fatalities in 2010 involved speeding, according to the IIHS, and alcohol was a factor in 42 percent. Eliminate those factors and you’ve dramatically reduced your risk.
Don’t buy more bike than you can handle. If you’ve been off of motorcycles for awhile, you may be surprised by the performance of today’s bikes. Even models with small-displacement engines are notably faster and more powerful than they were 10 or 20 years ago.
When shopping for a bike, start with one that fits you. When seated, you should easily be able to rest both feet flat on the ground without having to be on tiptoes. Handlebars and controls should be within easy reach. Choose a model that’s easy for you to get on and off the center stand; if it feels too heavy, it probably is. A smaller model with a 250- to 300-cc engine can make a great starter or commuter bike. If you plan on doing a lot of highway riding, you might want one with an engine in the 500- to 750-cc range so you can easily keep up with traffic. (Before buying, see our report on motorcycle reliability and owner satisfaction.)
Invest in antilock brakes. Now available on a wide array of models, antilock brakes are a proven lifesaver. IIHS data shows that motorcycles equipped with ABS brakes were 37 percent less likely to be involved in a fatal crash than bikes without it. “No matter what kind of rider you are, ABS can brake better than you,” says Bruce Biondo of the Virginia Department of Motor Vehicles Motorcycle Safety Program.
The reason is simple: Locking up the brakes in a panic stop robs the rider of any steering control. That can easily lead to a skid and crash, which can result in serious injury. ABS helps you retain steering control during an emergency stop, and it can be especially valuable in slippery conditions.
This critical feature is now standard on many high-end models and adds only a few hundred dollars to the price of more basic bikes. You may be able to offset some of the cost with an insurance discount. Either way, we think it’s a worthwhile investment in your safety.
Hone your skills. As Honda’s Jon Seidel puts it, “There is nothing we could say or advise more than to go find a Motorcycle Safety Foundation (MSF) riding course in your area. That’s critical, absolutely critical.” An MSF course or similar class can teach you the basics, as well as advanced techniques, such as how to perform evasive emergency maneuvers. The cost ranges from free to about $350. An approved safety course may make you eligible for an insurance discount and, in some states, to skip the road-test and/or the written test part of the licensing process. Some motorcycle manufacturers offer a credit toward the cost of a new motorcycle or training if a rider signs up for an MSF course. The MSF website lists about 2,700 locations for such courses around the United States.
“It is absolute insanity to repeal helmet laws,” says Orly Avitzur, M.D., a Consumer Reports medical adviser.
Use your head. Yes, helmets are an emotional topic for some riders. But the facts show the risk. Riders without a helmet are 40 percent more likely to suffer a fatal head injury in a crash and are three times more likely to suffer brain injuries, than those with helmets, according to government studies.
When Texas and Arkansas repealed their helmet laws, they saw a 31- and 21-percent increase in motorcycle fatalities, respectively. “It is absolute insanity to repeal helmet laws,” says Orly Avitzur, M.D., a neurologist and a Consumer Reports medical adviser. “Because helmets do save lives, it is insanity to expose the skull and the brain to potential trauma that could be prevented or at least mitigated.”
A full-face helmet that’s approved by the Department of Transportation is the best choice. (Look for a DOT certification sticker on the helmet.) Modern helmets are strong, light weight, and comfortable, and they cut down on wind noise and fatigue. Keep in mind that helmets deteriorate over time, and may not be safe even if they look fine. The Snell Memorial Foundation, an independent helmet testing and standards-setting organization, recommends replacing a helmet every five years, or sooner if it’s been damaged or has been in a crash. Beyond potential deterioration due to aging and exposure to hair oils and chemicals, Snell points out that there is often a notable improvement over that time in helmet design and materials.
Wear the right gear. Jeans, a T-shirt, and sandals are recipes for a painful disaster on a bike. Instead, you want gear that will protect you from wind chill, flying bugs and debris, and, yes, lots of road rash if you should slide out. For maximum protection, go for a leather or other reinforced jacket, gloves, full pants, and over-the-ankle footwear, even in summer. Specially designed jackets with rugged padding and breathable mesh material provide protection as well as ventilation for riding in warm weather. You’ll also want effective eye protection; don’t rely on eyeglasses or a bike’s windscreen. Use a helmet visor or goggles. And keep in mind that car drivers who have hit a motorcycle rider often say they just didn’t see them, so choose gear in bright colors.
Be defensive. A recent study by the University of South Florida’s Center for Urban Transportation Research found that in collisions involving a motorcycle and a car, car drivers were at fault 60 percent of the time. So, you need to be extra alert, especially in this age of epidemic phone use and texting behind the wheel. Keep an eye out for cars suddenly changing lanes or pulling out from side streets. And don’t tailgate; keeping a safe following distance is critical, both to ensure you have enough stopping distance and so you have time to react to obstacles in the road. An object that a car might easily straddle could be a serious hazard when on a bike.
Avoid bad weather. Slippery conditions reduce your margin for error. Rain not only cuts your visibility but reduces your tires’ grip on the road, which can make cornering tricky. If you need to ride in the rain, remember that the most dangerous time is right after precipitation begins, as the water can cause oil residue to rise to the top. And avoid making sudden maneuvers. Be especially gentle with the brakes, throttle, and steering to avoid sliding. When riding in strong side winds, be proactive in anticipating the potential push from the side by moving to the side of the lane the wind is coming from. This will give you some leeway in the lane, should a gust nudge you.
Watch for road hazards. A motorcycle has less contact with the pavement than a car. Sand, wet leaves, or pebbles can cause a bike to slide unexpectedly, easily resulting in a spill. Bumps and potholes that you might barely notice in a car can pose serious danger when on a bike. If you can’t avoid them, slow down as much as possible before encountering them, with minimal steering input. Railroad tracks and other hazards should be approached as close to a right angle as possible, to reduce the chances of a skid.
Be ready to roll. Before each ride,do a quick walk-around to make sure your lights, horn, and directional signals are working properly. Check the chain, belt, or shaft and the brakes. And inspect the tires for wear and make sure they’re set at the proper pressure. Motorcycle mechanics we’ve spoken with say they routinely see worn-out brakes and improperly inflated tires that greatly increase safety risks. When tires are under-inflated, “handling gets really hard, steering gets hard, and the bike doesn’t want to lean,” says Mike Franklin, owner of Mike’s Garage in Los Angles.
Motorcycle Accident Lawyer Texas
Automobile and motorcycle accidents are the leading cause of personal injury and death in the U.S., with almost three million injuries and over 40,000 deaths each year. If you or a loved one has been involved in a motor vehicle accident because of the negligence of others, you may be entitled to payments for personal injury or wrongful death. We may be able to help you to recover payments for medical and funeral expenses, lost wages, physical pain and emotional suffering, disability, and future losses.
Even though someone is wearing a helmet at the time of the accident, the motorcycle rider or their passenger can be severely injured, even killed, when the motorcycle is hit by a motor vehicle weighing thousands of pounds more than the bike. Often the motorcyclist’s injuries are catastrophic, such as a spinal cord injury like a broken neck or back, resulting in permanent paralysis from the neck down (“quadriplegia”) or from the waist down (“paraplegia”). The motorcyclist may suffer broken arms, legs, ribs, and other bones. Even though the motorcyclist was wearing a helmet at the time of the accident, it is still possible for him or her to suffer traumatic brain injury by the brain’s hitting against the inside of the skull. The motorcyclist may also suffer severe friction burns by being dragged along the asphalt or pavement for any distance. You also risk the possibility of a ruptured fuel tank catching fire, causing you to be severely burned (“thermal” burns).
If you have been injured in a motorcycle accident, it is imperative that you call us today at Giunta Law.
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Getting The Savings You Deserve With The Best Truck Insurance Tips
When you get into a truck accident, the last thing you want to think of is the fact that you don’t have truck insurance. It’s so important that most states legally mandate you to have it to operate your vehicle. Picking the optimal one for you can be difficult, though. Should you prioritize the best possible or the cheapest? This article will help you find the truck insurance plan that is best for you.
When shopping for a new truck, be sure to check with your insurance company for any unexpected rate changes. You may be surprised at how cheap or expensive some trucks may be due to unforeseen criteria. Certain safety features may bring the cost of one truck down, while certain other trucks with safety risks may bring the cost up.
One overlooked way to save money on your truck insurance is to stick with the same company for an extended period of time. Most insurance companies offer reduced rates to long-term customers which can add up to big savings over time. So, find an insurance agency to your liking, stick with them and watch your premiums go down.
Insurance companies figure up your monthly payments in part based on the risk you present as a driver. To lower this risk factor, you can make sure your truck or truck is parked away in a garage. Not only does keeping your truck in a garage help prevent theft, but it also helps prevent weather damage and other damages that may occur.
If you are putting less than 20% down on your truck, make sure to look into getting GAP truck insurance. Should you have an accident while you are still in the first year or two of payments, you may end up owing the bank more money than you would receive in a claim.
Check with your truck insurer to find out if registering your spouse as a co-driver can help reduce your premiums. Many insurance companies offer discounts in such situations. Their reasoning is that married drivers are motivated to drive more cautiously. If your insurer offers such a deal, be sure to take advantage of it.
To get the best price on your truck insurance policy, make sure that the one you currently have includes correct information about your vehicle. Double check the listed age and make of your truck and look to see that the mileage they have is right. Make sure that any special circumstances, such as a short drive to work, are mentioned.
When choosing an truck insurance policy, look into the quality of the company. The company that holds your policy should be able to back it up. It is good to know if the company that holds your policy will be around to take care of any claims you may have.
You should choose a popular and recent vehicle over anything else. If your vehicle needs to be repaired, parts will be easy to find and remain relatively cheap. With an older model, you might have to order the parts or with a rare foreign brand, have the parts shipped from overseas. This will raise your insurance, or not be covered by it.
Top tier status refers to the percentage of customers from a insurance company that have filed the fewest claims and have the best driving record. Perhaps you qualify as a top tier customer, or your status will improve over the years. Make sure you ask your insurance company to be considered as a top tier customer, as they might not switch your classification automatically.
Did you know that what type of area you live in is a variable in how much you will pay for truck insurance? If you live in a large city, you are more likely to have an accident with another truck and this in turn increases the price of your policy. You might want to consider paying a higher deductible in order to offset the higher premium cost.
Don’t just get the basic coverage that your state requires and think you are off the hook. Make sure you really analyze the value of your truck and potential problems you have before deciding on a final policy. Many times the basic requirement is not much more than liability insurance and this can leave you high and dry.
Don’t let just anyone drive your truck. If you let your friend borrow your truck, and they don’t have truck insurance and wreck, it will cause your insurance to go up. In addition, any damages that your policy doesn’t cover, you will end up being responsible for them, not your friend.
You should call your insurance company if you get a DUI. There are some states that require drivers who have gotten a DUI to get a certain type of insurance coverage in order to be able to drive on the road. This coverage is often more expensive and needed for an extended period of time. Your insurance agent should be able to give you all the information you need.
Buy your insurance through the internet. Sometimes companies offer lower rates if you sign up for their service online, and some companies have deals available online only. This is because the service is automated and you don’t have to deal with an agent. You may see rates reduced up to 10% or more.
If you have multiple drivers insured on your policy, make sure that you report to your insurance company if someone stops using your vehicle. Extra drivers mean extra risk, so removing drivers is one way to reduce a premium.
Don’t drive without truck insurance. It can be a big gamble, and it’s also illegal. This article should have pointed you in the direction you need to figure out what truck insurance is best for you. While your financial situation may force you to pick something less than optimal, the tips given here will help you understand your policy and select the plan that’s right for you.
The post Getting The Savings You Deserve With The Best Truck Insurance Tips appeared first on Truck Insurance AAA - Commercial Insurance for Trucks by A Classic Plan Inc..
source https://www.truckinsuranceaaa.com/getting-the-savings-you-deserve-with-the-best-truck-insurance-tips/
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Getting The Savings You Deserve With The Best Truck Insurance Tips
When you get into a truck accident, the last thing you want to think of is the fact that you don’t have truck insurance. It’s so important that most states legally mandate you to have it to operate your vehicle. Picking the optimal one for you can be difficult, though. Should you prioritize the best possible or the cheapest? This article will help you find the truck insurance plan that is best for you.
When shopping for a new truck, be sure to check with your insurance company for any unexpected rate changes. You may be surprised at how cheap or expensive some trucks may be due to unforeseen criteria. Certain safety features may bring the cost of one truck down, while certain other trucks with safety risks may bring the cost up.
One overlooked way to save money on your truck insurance is to stick with the same company for an extended period of time. Most insurance companies offer reduced rates to long-term customers which can add up to big savings over time. So, find an insurance agency to your liking, stick with them and watch your premiums go down.
Insurance companies figure up your monthly payments in part based on the risk you present as a driver. To lower this risk factor, you can make sure your truck or truck is parked away in a garage. Not only does keeping your truck in a garage help prevent theft, but it also helps prevent weather damage and other damages that may occur.
If you are putting less than 20% down on your truck, make sure to look into getting GAP truck insurance. Should you have an accident while you are still in the first year or two of payments, you may end up owing the bank more money than you would receive in a claim.
Check with your truck insurer to find out if registering your spouse as a co-driver can help reduce your premiums. Many insurance companies offer discounts in such situations. Their reasoning is that married drivers are motivated to drive more cautiously. If your insurer offers such a deal, be sure to take advantage of it.
To get the best price on your truck insurance policy, make sure that the one you currently have includes correct information about your vehicle. Double check the listed age and make of your truck and look to see that the mileage they have is right. Make sure that any special circumstances, such as a short drive to work, are mentioned.
When choosing an truck insurance policy, look into the quality of the company. The company that holds your policy should be able to back it up. It is good to know if the company that holds your policy will be around to take care of any claims you may have.
You should choose a popular and recent vehicle over anything else. If your vehicle needs to be repaired, parts will be easy to find and remain relatively cheap. With an older model, you might have to order the parts or with a rare foreign brand, have the parts shipped from overseas. This will raise your insurance, or not be covered by it.
Top tier status refers to the percentage of customers from a insurance company that have filed the fewest claims and have the best driving record. Perhaps you qualify as a top tier customer, or your status will improve over the years. Make sure you ask your insurance company to be considered as a top tier customer, as they might not switch your classification automatically.
Did you know that what type of area you live in is a variable in how much you will pay for truck insurance? If you live in a large city, you are more likely to have an accident with another truck and this in turn increases the price of your policy. You might want to consider paying a higher deductible in order to offset the higher premium cost.
Don’t just get the basic coverage that your state requires and think you are off the hook. Make sure you really analyze the value of your truck and potential problems you have before deciding on a final policy. Many times the basic requirement is not much more than liability insurance and this can leave you high and dry.
Don’t let just anyone drive your truck. If you let your friend borrow your truck, and they don’t have truck insurance and wreck, it will cause your insurance to go up. In addition, any damages that your policy doesn’t cover, you will end up being responsible for them, not your friend.
You should call your insurance company if you get a DUI. There are some states that require drivers who have gotten a DUI to get a certain type of insurance coverage in order to be able to drive on the road. This coverage is often more expensive and needed for an extended period of time. Your insurance agent should be able to give you all the information you need.
Buy your insurance through the internet. Sometimes companies offer lower rates if you sign up for their service online, and some companies have deals available online only. This is because the service is automated and you don’t have to deal with an agent. You may see rates reduced up to 10% or more.
If you have multiple drivers insured on your policy, make sure that you report to your insurance company if someone stops using your vehicle. Extra drivers mean extra risk, so removing drivers is one way to reduce a premium.
Don’t drive without truck insurance. It can be a big gamble, and it’s also illegal. This article should have pointed you in the direction you need to figure out what truck insurance is best for you. While your financial situation may force you to pick something less than optimal, the tips given here will help you understand your policy and select the plan that’s right for you.
The post Getting The Savings You Deserve With The Best Truck Insurance Tips appeared first on Truck Insurance AAA - Commercial Insurance for Trucks by A Classic Plan Inc..
source https://www.truckinsuranceaaa.com/getting-the-savings-you-deserve-with-the-best-truck-insurance-tips/
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Getting The Savings You Deserve With The Best Truck Insurance Tips
When you get into a truck accident, the last thing you want to think of is the fact that you don’t have truck insurance. It’s so important that most states legally mandate you to have it to operate your vehicle. Picking the optimal one for you can be difficult, though. Should you prioritize the best possible or the cheapest? This article will help you find the truck insurance plan that is best for you.
When shopping for a new truck, be sure to check with your insurance company for any unexpected rate changes. You may be surprised at how cheap or expensive some trucks may be due to unforeseen criteria. Certain safety features may bring the cost of one truck down, while certain other trucks with safety risks may bring the cost up.
One overlooked way to save money on your truck insurance is to stick with the same company for an extended period of time. Most insurance companies offer reduced rates to long-term customers which can add up to big savings over time. So, find an insurance agency to your liking, stick with them and watch your premiums go down.
Insurance companies figure up your monthly payments in part based on the risk you present as a driver. To lower this risk factor, you can make sure your truck or truck is parked away in a garage. Not only does keeping your truck in a garage help prevent theft, but it also helps prevent weather damage and other damages that may occur.
If you are putting less than 20% down on your truck, make sure to look into getting GAP truck insurance. Should you have an accident while you are still in the first year or two of payments, you may end up owing the bank more money than you would receive in a claim.
Check with your truck insurer to find out if registering your spouse as a co-driver can help reduce your premiums. Many insurance companies offer discounts in such situations. Their reasoning is that married drivers are motivated to drive more cautiously. If your insurer offers such a deal, be sure to take advantage of it.
To get the best price on your truck insurance policy, make sure that the one you currently have includes correct information about your vehicle. Double check the listed age and make of your truck and look to see that the mileage they have is right. Make sure that any special circumstances, such as a short drive to work, are mentioned.
When choosing an truck insurance policy, look into the quality of the company. The company that holds your policy should be able to back it up. It is good to know if the company that holds your policy will be around to take care of any claims you may have.
You should choose a popular and recent vehicle over anything else. If your vehicle needs to be repaired, parts will be easy to find and remain relatively cheap. With an older model, you might have to order the parts or with a rare foreign brand, have the parts shipped from overseas. This will raise your insurance, or not be covered by it.
Top tier status refers to the percentage of customers from a insurance company that have filed the fewest claims and have the best driving record. Perhaps you qualify as a top tier customer, or your status will improve over the years. Make sure you ask your insurance company to be considered as a top tier customer, as they might not switch your classification automatically.
Did you know that what type of area you live in is a variable in how much you will pay for truck insurance? If you live in a large city, you are more likely to have an accident with another truck and this in turn increases the price of your policy. You might want to consider paying a higher deductible in order to offset the higher premium cost.
Don’t just get the basic coverage that your state requires and think you are off the hook. Make sure you really analyze the value of your truck and potential problems you have before deciding on a final policy. Many times the basic requirement is not much more than liability insurance and this can leave you high and dry.
Don’t let just anyone drive your truck. If you let your friend borrow your truck, and they don’t have truck insurance and wreck, it will cause your insurance to go up. In addition, any damages that your policy doesn’t cover, you will end up being responsible for them, not your friend.
You should call your insurance company if you get a DUI. There are some states that require drivers who have gotten a DUI to get a certain type of insurance coverage in order to be able to drive on the road. This coverage is often more expensive and needed for an extended period of time. Your insurance agent should be able to give you all the information you need.
Buy your insurance through the internet. Sometimes companies offer lower rates if you sign up for their service online, and some companies have deals available online only. This is because the service is automated and you don’t have to deal with an agent. You may see rates reduced up to 10% or more.
If you have multiple drivers insured on your policy, make sure that you report to your insurance company if someone stops using your vehicle. Extra drivers mean extra risk, so removing drivers is one way to reduce a premium.
Don’t drive without truck insurance. It can be a big gamble, and it’s also illegal. This article should have pointed you in the direction you need to figure out what truck insurance is best for you. While your financial situation may force you to pick something less than optimal, the tips given here will help you understand your policy and select the plan that’s right for you.
The post Getting The Savings You Deserve With The Best Truck Insurance Tips appeared first on Truck Insurance AAA - Commercial Insurance for Trucks by A Classic Plan Inc..
Source: https://www.truckinsuranceaaa.com/getting-the-savings-you-deserve-with-the-best-truck-insurance-tips/
0 notes
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