#having a support system and a solid friend to lean on that allows her to not close herself off or lash out as harshly at the world

[starstaiined]

thinking of a childhood friends au where it's nat and jackie, not shauna and jackie, that become the it duo

#soft warm child nat having somewhere safe to hide away and someone who nurtures and values her heart #having a support system and a solid friend to lean on that allows her to not close herself off or lash out as harshly at the world #the little girl who cried shooting a turkey knowing that there's nothing wrong with crying #and then jackie having someone who's always honest with her #someone who she feels the need to protect in equal measure #jackie growing more of an edge and standing her ground while also adjusting her thinking when honest conversations crop up #them feeding into a healthy nurturing understanding #makes me feral actually #yellowjackets #jackie taylor #natalie scatorccio #jackienat

[morbidlycuriousabigail]

Trust Me || Milo, Metzli, and Abigail

Timing: Before “Drowning Lessons” Parties: @wickedmilo @deathisanartmetzli @morbidlycuriousabigail​ Summary: Abigail tries to stop Milo from making a choice he might regret. The two then head to Metzli’s apartment to rest for the night. Content Warning: Addiction, Alcohol, Drug Abuse

Milo threw an arm out to catch himself against a nearby wall, the rough brick cutting into the palm of his hand as he struggled to right himself. Even though he knew which way was up, even though he could feel the ground, solid, and stable beneath his feet, his body was finding it increasingly difficult to balance, no doubt due to the dangerous levels of alcohol filtering into his system. The night had started like any other, but with Sylvain’s threat still echoing in his mind, and thoughts of his Sire plaguing him like they used to, he needed to face what he had been working so hard to avoid. He couldn’t do it sober, he couldn’t do it if he allowed himself to build expectation, or suspense. So feeling spontaneous, and arguably a little reckless, he spent the evening choking down a bottle of vodka, gathering courage that would inevitably allow him to confront the man responsible for his death. 

He was all too aware of Eilidh’s address, the plot of land where she liked to keep her trailer parked. That was where he needed to go, if only he could get his body to cooperate. One conversation. If he could make it through one conversation, if he could say what he needed to say, then it would be over. In his state of intoxication he genuinely believed it was simple. In fact, the simplicity of it all was quickly becoming his motivation to continue, to push away from the wall and stagger towards the centre of town. The dark cloud that had been looming over him would dissipate, and by the morning he would be free. If only he could successfully make it to his destination. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t stand upright, it didn’t matter that he kept stumbling, tripping over the shoelaces he had absentmindedly forgotten to tie. What mattered was getting to his friend’s trailer, looking the man who had killed him in the eye, and telling him to go fuck himself. So preoccupied by thoughts of his pending satisfaction, he didn’t register the fact that somebody was walking towards him until they reached out to catch him. Until their arms were open, and he fell heavily into them. Leaning against their weight, he hadn’t even realised he was beginning to fall, and it took him a moment to collect himself. “Sorry- ‘m sorry…” He murmured, trying to pull away, unable to feel even a hint of embarrassment. “Y’can let me go… ‘m okay.” 

Abigail hadn’t expected that she’d run into Milo while walking around town, but she was certainly glad she did. He looked rough, and that was saying something. She reached out as she saw him starting to lose his balance, managing hold him up after he fell against her. “Hey, take it easy for a second kid.” She supported his weight until he tried to stand up and pull away, allowing him to do so, but clearly carrying her posture in a way that showed she was ready for him to wobble over again. “Is everything alright? You look far too intoxicated to be out on the town.” Abigail was clearly concerned, as was portrayed by the hint of worry in her single-toned voice. She couldn’t even conceptualize the amount of alcohol Milo would’ve had to drink to be at this level, but she knew something had to have happened to cause it, or at least some prevailing thought must’ve troubled him. Either way, Milo was in no state to be heading somewhere.

Reaching into her bag, Abigail rifled through it, clinking metal and rustling papers coming from within until she pulled out a plastic water bottle, offering it to Milo. “Drink and sit down for a second, then you can tell me what you’re doing out here in this state.” Her voice carried a stern, protective tone with the concern. She hadn’t known him for very long, so she couldn’t say whether or not this was normal, but she certainly hoped for his sake that it wasn’t. It seemed that Milo wasn’t trying to escape something, it more seemed that he was heading towards something, and that was arguably more dangerous. “And don’t give me that ‘I’m fine’ bullshit that everybody loves to hear, give me a real answer.” Abigail took a moment to look around for a second, spotting a bench and starting to lead Milo over to it for him to sit down. 

Milo only recognised Abigail when his face was pressed against her shoulder. Her scent washed over him as he straightened back up again, and he remembered the unusual specifics of her blood. She definitely didn’t smell human, but there was something so unique about her physiology. He could probably pick her out in a room filled with a hundred people, which was impressive considering he had done nothing to hone that particular skill. Even through his haze he could hear the concern in her voice, but as she distracted him from thoughts of her moose form, he did what he could to brush it off. He had more important things to focus on, and Abigail wasn’t going to stand in his way. What if she stopped him, and his resolve just never returned? What if she told him no, and he found it impossible to reclaim the courage it had taken to even leave the apartment? He had done so knowing he was planning on facing down his murderer. He couldn’t do that again. He wouldn’t do that again. He had been through too much already. “Kid?” He echoed, unable to help himself. His ironically childish dislike of being treated like somebody young, and incompant, caused him to glare at Abigail, though there was no real disdain behind the expression. “I’m not a kid…” He insisted, absentmindedly straightening his glasses. “...’m ‘n adult. I can make my own choices.” A laugh escaping him when he realised Abigail had reasonably assumed he was walking to frequent a club, or a bar, he shook his head, silently attempting to correct her. “That’s not why ‘m out.” He admitted, finding himself entirely incapable of lying. Rolling his eyes as she pulled a bottle of water from her purse, he pointedly pushed it away. He didn’t need water. He didn’t need her help.

“I don’t want your water… I have things…” He trailed off. He had things to do, it was true. But finishing his sentences didn’t feel important. He was wasting time. Abigail was wasting time. He took a step, trying to walk away from her with confidence, and purpose, but even he knew he was putting on a poor display. “But I am fine.” He called over his shoulder, the distance between them both steadily increasing, though apparently not quickly enough. Within seconds he felt Abigail take a firm grip of his wrist, and she began tugging him towards a nearby bench. He struggled to free himself, but he couldn’t find the energy to utilise his strength, and eventually decided to cooperate. Sitting down did sound incredibly appealing. Maybe he could rest for a while. He had hours before the sun was due to rise, after all. “I jus’ need to talk to him… jus’ talk.” He explained, hoping if he told her what he was doing she would realise how important the situation was, and let him go. Maybe she would even accompany him. He couldn’t say he was against the idea. “Jus’ talk, and then it’ll be over…” He added, as though it offered any extra clarity on his mission. “Look- jus’ let me do this, and then- and then you c’n call Metzli… they’re used to comin’ and findin’ me… draggin’ home, y’know? Call them after and I’ll go with them…”

“You’re right, you’re a grown adult, but you’re also a kid to me, at least I think. I don’t know how old you really are.” Abigail crossed one leg over the other while looking over at Milo, listening intently, though it didn’t seem like she’d get too much of an answer yet. At least Milo was telling the truth, not that he had much of a choice right now. Abigail only had more questions, but it didn’t matter, if Milo was planning on doing something important, it’d be best to do it sober. “If you were fine, you wouldn’t be as drunk as you are. Now, drink some water and talk to me.” She offered Milo the water once again, her expression once again growing stern as she held it in front of him. Abigail had no idea what he was going through, but she remembered seeing somebody on TV get drunk after a breakup because they got so upset, maybe this was that? “Who are you going to talk to and why? Is it a relationship thing, or is it a vampire thing?” Luckily the surrounding area was pretty empty, both of people and animals, so Abigail wasn’t too worried about being less veiled about the supernatural side of the conversation.

“Whatever you’re going to do, if it’s bad enough to make you want to be this intoxicated to do it, you should do it sober.” Abigail was painfully awful at offering words of advice or even sympathy, but she’d make an attempt for Milo. “My dad was a piece of shit back in the day, hell, I killed him for it… but to this day, I still wish I’d waited and composed myself for one last confrontation.” She reached out awkwardly, pausing in mid air for a moment, before patting Milo’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. “So, whatever it is, don’t do something you regret by doing it like this.” Abigail turned away for a moment, hearing the sound of distant thunder approaching, but it’d be a while before it arrived. That explained why nobody was out, not even the occasional jogger. In Abigail’s opinion it was better than the weather being plain and boring. Returning her gaze to Milo, Abigail was calm, composed, and tried to be as helpful as she could. “Just something to think about, that’s all.”

Milo laughed, unable to remember whether he had ever given Abigail the details of his death. “My body is 22…” He admitted, before reaching up to tap at his head, accidentally knocking his glasses askew again. “M’brain is 23…” Dropping unceremoniously down onto the bench, he let out a shaky breath, his chest rising and falling visibly with the motion. “Isn’t it weird how there’s like… air inside of you?” He asked her, a hand moving to rest directly over his heart. Even now he felt as though there should be a heartbeat, some evidence of life for him to feel beneath his fingertips. But the muscle remained still, and cold. It was never going to beat again. “M’ybe I’m fine because of how drunk I am.” He pointed out, proud of himself for being able to counter her argument. “I don’t want your water.” He added, crossing his arms so that she couldn’t force him to take the bottle. “What?” He turned to look at her as she asked him whether plans somehow involved his relationship. “No. Gross.” He slouched further down into his seat, resting his head against the back of the bench. Abigail didn’t realise it, but her question was complicated. He took a moment to think about what ‘relationship’ meant. About the implications, and connotations that came alongside the word. He technically did have a relationship with his Sire. It wasn’t physical, or even emotional, but it had been forged by a ridiculous, supernatural connection. It was a connection he didn’t want. A connection he was determined to untangle himself from. A newfound rush of urgency hitting him, he scrambled to stand up again, nearly falling over in the process. 

Catching himself on the ground, he pushed himself back up onto the bench, attempting to hide how difficult he found the task. Gravel cut into his palms, and when he begrudgingly returned to his precious position, he was forced to wipe away the mud, and sweat that was coating them. A few droplets on black blood soaked into the material of his jeans. “It’s a vampire thing.” He confirmed, unfazed by his now broken skin. “And I don’t have t’do anything sober. Not if I don’t want to… pfft, you sound like Metzli.” Falling silent as he registered Abigail’s words, he was shocked to hear she had killed her father. Even more shocked to hear her speak about his murder with such a casual tone of voice. But he was too intoxicated to fully process the importance of the admission, and had a vague suspicion he wouldn’t remember it come morning. “Look-” He started, trying to sound as reasonable. “That was your thing… I don’t need t’be composed to tell the guy who did this t’me that he’s an asshole.” Frowning to himself as she patted his shoulder, he refused to accept the spark of affection the gesture managed to ignite within him. She wasn’t going to win him over. She wasn’t going to talk him out of this by being nice. How easy did she think he was to manipulate? “You don’t know what I regret.” He insisted. “...’m not you, ‘nd I’ve had a year t’think… a year is long… and now Macleod has him, you don’t understand. This is- this is my chance.” Trying once again to push away from the bench, this time he successfully stumbled to his feet. As he began to walk away from her again, his movements clumsy, and slow, he continued to respond as though she was still sitting beside him. “...I just gotta do this one thing- that’s all. Just one thing- come with me if you care so much.” 

“You’re younger than I am, so kid will do.” Abigail could sympathize with Milo, it wasn’t an easy situation and it probably hurt greatly to have to confront something so serious, but she didn’t want him to make a decision that he might regret while impaired. “Very weird, Milo. Very weird indeed.” She took a moment to think, staring off while arranging her words as best she could, preparing them and rehearsing them mentally. It made it easier for her to not doubt herself after speaking. “That may be true. Maybe you’re fine because you’re drunk, you probably are, but do you think you’ll be in the right mindset to say what you need to say and do what needs to be done? Will you properly remember the moment and receive the closure you’re seeking? These are questions you should consider, even if you don’t want to sober up right now.” She chuckled at the ‘gross’ comment, especially after Milo insisted that he wasn’t a child. As Milo slipped and fell onto the ground, Abigail moved to catch him too late, allowing him to pick himself up. She figured he probably wouldn’t enjoy the help, but she’d still offer it. 

Abigail assisted Milo in sitting back down, searching through her bag to pull out a small first aid kit. She quickly opened it and offered him some adhesive bandages for the blood. “I’ve got black blood too, remember? It’s not just a vampire thing now that you know me.” She didn’t seem too worried about the injury, she was moreso worried about making sure Milo had fully thought this through. “True, you don’t have to do it sober, but I’m advising you against doing it drunk. Don’t deprive yourself of the clarity needed for what is to come. Metzli’s smart, if I sound like them I’m probably right here, kid.” With her free hand, she slid the water bottle back into her bag. “It was my thing, but I regret it every day, and I don’t want you to have to regret this.” Abigail’s attention wavered for a moment as she slipped back into the memory. It wasn’t pleasant, and it was much easier to focus on Milo than it was for her to actually confront those thoughts right now. Maybe it made her a hypocrite, but she didn’t care right now. Abigail snapped back into the moment once Milo had stood and started walking away, quickly moving to follow next to him. “You’re right, but you won’t just have to live with the regret for a few decades, whatever you do right now will live in your memory for centuries. Why don’t you return home to Metzli, sober up, and then confront this person. I’ll walk you home.” Abigail considered reaching out, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Physical touch was not something she wanted to do in any way right now, so she hoped her caring voice would be enough to convince Milo. “Trust me, you will wish that you did this in your right mind forever.”

Milo pouted, too lazy to argue his case for a second time. Instead he fell silent, nodding thoughtfully when Abigail agreed it was strange to think about the air being held in their lungs. Utilising the brief break in conversation, he clumsily pulled a carton of cigarettes from his pocket, lighting one after struggling to catch the flame. “Now there’s smoke in my lungs…” He murmured, watching the cherry burn red. “Also weird...” Taking a long, uninterrupted toke, he waited until his chest began to burn before finally exhaling, his expression darkening as he registered what his friend was trying to say. He felt a sudden rush of anger, but even in his current state he was able to understand he was angry because she was right. He didn’t see any other way to have a conversation with his Sire, but he imagined facing the man in his head, tried to conjure a sentence that adequately explained not only how he felt, but what he was hoping to gain from the experience, and he was met with static. A painful, undeniable lack of coherency. “Jus’ stop… stop talking.” He insisted, waving off her question, the cigarette in his hand leaving a trail of smoke in its wake. “S’not about not wanting to be sober…” He admitted, still staring down at his hands. “...s’not knowing how else I’m gonna do this. I have to be- you don’t understand…” Swallowing the emotion that welled up within him, he focused on making his next statement sound casual, and unimportant. “I don’t like my brain when it’s sober… I jus’ don’t, it’s… whatever.” Leaning into her as she helped him back onto the bench, he couldn’t bring himself to insist he didn’t need her help. And as she pulled a first aid kit from her purse, he held his tongue instead of reminding her the grazes would be healed over within the hour. He enjoyed being taken care of, he enjoyed knowing somebody was there for him. It allowed him to relax, to relinquish what little control he had over his body, and his actions. 

“I know you have.” He mumbled, taking the bandaids with an absentminded curiosity. Fumbling with them in an attempt to expose the adhesive, he only managed to get one stuck to his sleeve. “Evrything and everyone in this town is fuckin’ batshit…” Taking another drag on his cigarette, he tapped ash from the end of it, watching it fall into his lap. He didn’t want to think about what she was saying, didn’t want to unpick the meaning behind her words, and apply them to his life, to what was happening, and what he was planning to do. But he felt heavy with defeat. His energy was rapidly depleting. Part of him recognised her wisdom. Maybe he had always known he wasn’t going to make it to Eilidh’s. Part of him also wanted to jump at the chance of delaying the encounter. If only for another day, another week. Maybe even a month… He wasn’t ready, but he was never going to be ready. Sniffling, he only realised tears were forming in his eyes when he was forced to cuff at his nose. Abigail was asking him to confront things he would never confront if he had any say in the matter. But he was incapable of truly escaping her. Even as he stood to continue making his way down the street, he was dragging his feet. Making a show of leaving without actually committing to the act. “What if I can’t do it sober?” He begged her for an answer as she fell into step beside him. For an indication that he was strong enough, that closure was waiting for him on the other side of this conversation. “...’m not a strong person, Abigail- ‘m not. People know ‘m not… s’why they always work so hard to protect me.” Accidentally dropping his cigarette while he gestured, he knew if he bent to retrieve it the world would tilt on its axis, so he left it where it was, burning steadily against the dirty asphalt. “I can’t do it…” Looking back up at his friend, he caught her gaze, letting his despair shine through him. Letting her see how hopeless, and broken he truly felt. “I need to do it, but I can’t… what ‘m I supposed to do?” 

Watching as Milo began to smoke a cigarette, Abigail simply sat and watched, giving him the time he needed, taking the moment of silence to think. She knew only a small part of the situation, but she knew it was clearly a lot on Milo, so she did her best to assist and lessen the stress on Milo. She opened her mouth to speak, but when she was told to stop, she shrugged and did just that, at least until she couldn’t help herself. “Milo, I get that you feel like you have to be on them to be the version of yourself that you can tolerate, but have you considered that they affect how you emotionally and mentally process things? When was the last time you were fully sober? How do you know who that version of you is without having recently experienced it?” Abigail pulled her phone out and sent a quick message to Metzli, letting them know she would probably be at their place soon with Milo in tow. “I don’t believe you shouldn’t deprive yourself of the moment by being in this state during it, and deep down I think you know that I’m right. You can do whatever you want right after, but when you say whatever you plan on saying to that asshole, you should be fully cognizant of the situation and able to remember that feeling.” Watching as Milo fumbled around with the bandage and got it stuck to his sleeve, it only cemented Abigail’s conviction in this. “At the very least, talk through it with Metzli. They know a lot more than I do about this sort of thing.” She felt like she was doing the right thing for once in stopping Milo. Abigail genuinely cared for the kid, and would feel greatly responsible if she didn’t try her best to keep him from doing something he’d regret. “Yes, I agree. We’re all batshit here, and we’ve all got a shit ton of problems. That’s why it helps to have a group you can trust.”

Abigail slowly stood after watching Milo start walking, easily catching up with his slow speed. It was clear some part of him wanted to be stopped. She placed a firm hand on his shoulder, patting lightly once he’d stopped moving. “You can, Milo, and you’re stronger than you think. Not to mention, you’ve got people who have your back when you falter.” Watching the cigarette fall to the ground, she lifted her boot and used it to snuff out the burning end on the ground, firmly grinding it into the ground. “People don’t work to keep you safe because you’re weak, they do it because you’re strong, and because they know you’d do the same for them. It’s that heart you’ve got, kid.” Abigail registered the expression on Milo’s face. She knew that feeling better than she knew all others, it was her least favorite. Placing her other hand on Milo’s shoulder as well. She usually hated physical contact, but it felt important to let Milo know that he was safe and okay right now. “You can, I know you can, and you do too, today’s simply not the day. It will be okay.” Abigail’s tone carried sincerity and honesty while she met Milo’s broken gaze, gently nodding in understanding at him.

“I didn’t say anything ‘bout my pills.” Milo muttered, wondering how obvious his drug abuse was to somebody who knew to look out for it. “I don’t feel like I have to…” He added, frustrated by the implication. “S’not like that… everyone thinks I have this problem, but I don’t.” He frowned to himself, doing his best to show how little he appreciated people assuming he ‘needed’ his substances. They were recreational. He wanted them. That was very different to being out of control. “...’nd I process things just fine, so you c’n stop with the- with the concern.” He couldn’t convince his parents, or Metzli, but maybe he could convince Abigail. Show her there was nothing bad about indulging in what made you feel good. Faltering at her question, it was something he had never been asked before. Something he had never even really considered. Taking a moment, he counted on his fingers, thinking back to the very first Oxy. The very moment his world had started to expand. “Like… on nothing?” He echoed. “Nine years… or somethin’ like that.” It was a shocking number, even he was surprised by the revelation. But he did what he could to mask his reaction, playing such a large amount of time off as something that didn’t warrant any kind of concern. So what if he knew who he was? So what if he knew what he liked, and wasn’t afraid to admit it? “I’m me.” He insisted. “...’ve always been me… I was no more me back then than now… jus’ Milo Summers, y’know? I’m jus’ Milo.” At the mention of his roommate, he stopped walking, thinking about how good it would feel to be with Metzli after psyching himself up to see his Sire. He was on edge, antsy. With them he felt safe, and he undeniably yearned for that comfort. “I don’t have anything t’ say to them…” He muttered, though it was clear his resolve was beginning to waver. 

Feeling something inside him crack when Abigail placed her hand on his shoulder, he momentarily let his eyes fall shut. Though the lack of vision made it far more difficult to balance, the darkness was welcome. It allowed him to concentrate on her presence. Tears broke free, leaving tear tracks as they ran down his cheeks, but he barely noticed them. He did nothing to swipe them away. He didn’t believe his friend, he couldn’t believe her, because he wasn’t strong. But she was right about having people to support him. Metzli was always waiting for him when he needed them, so maybe he didn’t need to see his Sire tonight. Maybe he needed to go home. Maybe he needed to feel safe, and secure, and enjoy the fact that he had found such a loving supernatural family. Opening his eyes at the sound of Abigail’s boot grinding the cigarette, he quietly mourned the loss of his nicotine. “I don’t know that…” He argued, though there was no fight left in his voice. “I don’t… ‘nd you don’t either.” He tried to ignore how tired he felt, how emotionally spent the brief adventure had left him. Thoughts of his apartment were overwhelming him now, all he wanted was to curl up on the couch with a blanket. “But maybe… maybe it’s not the day. I miss Metzli…” The statement escaped him before he could filter himself. It was true, after all. And if he was honest then Abigail might help him home. It was beginning to seem like a monumentos journey, even though he couldn’t be sure just how far he was from the apartment building. “Will you take me back to them?” He asked, his voice small, and vulnerable as he gave in to what he truly desired. “Please?” 

“I do know that, but I won’t argue with you about it.” Abigail offered a small nod, before gesturing towards the path back towards his apartment. “I agree, let’s get you home, alright? I’ll be right next to you.” She let go and turned to start walking slowly, the sky starting to lightly rain, not enough to be inconvenient but enough that it didn’t help the overall feeling of the moment. She listened as Milo followed and walked up beside her, their footsteps syncing up in a rhythm quickly. For a while, Abigail thought it best to stay silent, leaving only the sound of their walking and the drizzling rain around them to fill the silence, but eventually, she spoke up. “Father figures usually suck in my experience, if it’s any consolation. I think wanting to confront him is a good idea.” She walked with her head down and her hands in her pockets, mostly because the water tapping her over and over felt very overwhelming, so she avoided it if she could. It was times like these that her long hair was a blessing. Abigail occasionally glanced over at Milo, just to check in on him. Normally she’d feel weak for worrying about other people, but some part of herself justified it by the fact that this was a young adult who was dealing with some difficult stuff. There wasn’t exactly a written tutorial on how to do what he was doing, so she’d help when she could. “I hope you get whatever you’re hoping to get from talking to him, I could-” Abigail thought about it for a moment, deciding after the fact that offering to commit a crime wasn’t exactly the best thing to do in the moment. “-nevermind. Just know that I’ve got your back, and don’t forget that you still owe me a drink.” She lightly elbowed Milo’s arm, hoping to lighten the mood. She was awful at lightening moods.

It wasn’t lost on Milo that Abigail didn’t respond to his admission, but he didn’t make an effort to file away that information. He didn’t care whether she was surprised, or saddened, or worried. None of it mattered because he readily planned on forgetting the more serious aspects of their conversation, and with the help of the alcohol in his system, doing so was going to be all too easy. “You don’t know…” He countered again, too stubborn to hold his tongue. Turning to face the way she was telling him to walk, he began to stumble vaguely in the direction of his home. A silence fell, punctuated by the distant sound of traffic, and an occasional fox rummaging through any trash cans that happened to be nearby. He let it wash over him, allowing Abigail to decide when to break it. Kicking at the gravel beneath his feet, staying upright was requiring the majority of his focus, and it took him a moment too long to process her voice when she finally spoke. “He’s not a father figure.” He muttered. “...asshole killed me.” Setting his jaw, he tried not to react to the validation, but it was refreshing, and welcome, and it made him feel good. Even if he had failed to confront his Sire tonight, he had friends in his corner. Friends who believed he was making a decent decision. Only noticing the rain when he was forced to clean his glasses, he nearly dropped them, catching them clumsily before they could hit the floor. Zeroing in on his task, as the conversation faded for the second time, he worked to ignore the feeling of failure looming over him. The voice in his head telling him he had officially missed his chance. He had been ready, and determined. Now he was walking back to a Milo who was terrified, and indecisive. There wasn’t much he could do about it now, though. With Abigail beside him he knew she wouldn’t rest until he was safely at home with his roommate. 

As they began to approach his building, his surroundings becoming more familiar, and easier to navigate, he looked up at the windows to his apartment, his brain telling him it was important to let Metzli know he was home “Metzli!” He shouted, his voice echoing in the night. “It’s Milo!” A couple of lights flickered on in response to his voice and he wondered briefly what time it was. But he didn’t dwell on the question for very long. Letting himself into the lobby, instinctively calling the lift, it wasn’t long before both he and Abigail were approaching his apartment. I could… nevermind. He was curious to know what Abigail had considered. What it was she thought she could do to help him with his situation. But the hall was empty, the lights bright, and warm compared to outside, and suddenly everything felt real again. The past hour or two may as well have been a dream, or some incredibly uneventful hallucination. He thought back on being found by Abigail, his memories of their conversation beginning to slip away from him, and tripped over his shoelace, catching himself on a nearby wall. He was already running through excuses, thinking about what he could say to Metzli, oblivious to the fact that Abigail was in a far better state to offer an explanation, but he wasn’t given the chance to fully prepare himself. Hearing the sound of a door, he looked up from where he was supporting himself, his gaze landing on his roommate who had obviously been waiting for him to appear. “Hey, roomie…” He did what he could to sound casual. As though the wall to his right wasn’t the only thing keeping him standing. “I owe Abigail a drink… m’ybe we could crack open your liquor cabinet?” 

Metzli sighed as they read Abigail’s message, a little surprised and a little worried. Milo returning home inebriated wasn’t unusual, hell, it was a habit they were used to. They wished they weren’t. Knowing they had never really seen Milo sober always made their gut wrench a little. While they wanted to help, they knew there wasn’t much to do but be there for him and use subtlety when possible to eventually guide him towards the realization that being drug and alcohol free, for him, had less to do with addiction and more to do with sanity. It was an excuse. A used up bandaid on a problem that was long infected, but he was blissfully unaware while others watched in fear. Metzli was just relieved to know that he wouldn’t be able to die from his use, not anymore. What a fucked up and shitty thing, they thought, but it was the truth. 

Milo’s scent registered first, alcohol and all, then Abigail’s scent, and then the loud proclamation of arrival. An amused chuckle escaped Metzli as they got to the door and propped it open so they could wait. “Hey Milo. Hey Abigail.” Milo looked like he’d been crying. Brows creased together in concern, and they wanted to fight whatever caused it. With a deep breath, they settled, gesturing for the two of them to walk in. Macleod was rubbing off on them for sure. “If you owe her a drink, you buy her one, idiot. Not give her my alcohol. Sit down. You know the drill.” The mug of blood was already on the coffee table, warm and waiting to be consumed. “Thanks for getting him home, Abs.”

“Hey, if you ever want me to repay the favor on your behalf, let me know. I can make him disappear.” Abigail craned her neck upwards to look at the building, standing by silently while Milo called out to Metzli inside. “I am also here!” She yelled, well, it moreso just raising her voice. Yelling was a bit too much effort. Abigail then followed alongside Milo into the elevator, riding it up to the proper floor. “Lead the way.” She proceed to follow Milo, jolting to try to help Milo when he tripped, but she luckily didn’t need to. Her gaze followed his over to the opening door, spotting Metzli and feeling relief immediately wash over her. She had no idea how to help Milo, but it seemed like they would have it under control due to their experience. “Hello.” She offered a small wave, before heading in at Metzli’s gesture. 

“It’s fine, he doesn’t owe me a drink any time soon. That can wait.” Abigail turned to face the door after entering, standing by to help Milo in if he needed it. She had the feeling that it was inevitable that he stumble again. “No need to thank me, he’s a good kid. I just didn’t want him making a decision he’d regret while in this state.” Abigail took off her hoodie, using it to dry her hair off before tying it around her waist, taking a moment to look around idly for a moment, mostly to look like she was doing something instead of staring off at the wall or the floor. People didn’t seem to like that. It was very light, but the scent of blood caught her attention, prompting her to look over at the mug. It was an extremely unusual sight for her, but it seemed completely normal to the other two in the room. 

Milo pouted when Metzli batted away his request to drink from their liquor cabinet. It felt like a twisted punishment sometimes, being able to see it, and touch it, without being able to open it. However he had come to take their denial as a playful challenge. Even though he knew the answer was going to be a resounding no, teasing Metzli by consistently pushing his luck had become a part of their daily routine. “...’s worth a shot.” He muttered, following the wall, one hand running along the smooth, and steady surface as he made his way towards the apartment. He could already smell the blood, and it was deliciously tempting. It made returning home feel less like a failure, and more like another well earned break from the realities of his life. You know the drill. He almost heard the phrase in his dad’s voice, could almost see the man standing in the entryway of his family home, waiting for him to take a drug test in the downstairs bathroom. But Metzli didn’t say it with judgement, or frustration. They said it with a tired affection. One that showed they were not only used to taking care of him, but willing to continue doing so. Abigail’s offer weighed heavily on his mind, he added her to the list of people eager to make his Sire pay. But he couldn’t take her up on it, not without talking to him first. The idea of threatening somebody, of causing them harm, or allowing somebody else to on his behalf, was so alien. It didn’t come naturally to him. Crossing the threshold, immediately swiping the mug of blood from the coffee table, he allowed the two adults to talk among themselves as he dropped unceremoniously down onto the couch.

The moment he was seated the rain clinging to his clothes became obvious. The material pressed against his skin, cold, and damp, but not uncomfortable enough for him to do anything about it. Instead he sipped at his blood, catching his fangs on the rim of the ceramic. “You’re s’posed to back me up.” He told Abigail, eyeing the liquor cabinet from where he was sitting. “They never let me into their cabinet… ‘s mean.” Narrowing his eyes, still red from his meal, he made it clear he wanted to stand by his decision, leaning into the pretence that he was home because he was missing his roommate. It wasn’t difficult considering Metzli was part of the reason he had eventually given in. “...’nd ‘m not in a state.” He added, unable to help himself. He could feel his wet hair curling at his temples, feel how dry his eyes were after crying. His clothes were dripping water, he could barely lift his arms, and yet something in him told him to continue denying he was anything other than fine. “You both worry too much…”

“Still, I really appreciate you helping him home. I’m usually driving to go pick him up.” Metzli gave Abigail a quick side hug before going back to Milo. Had it been anyone else with him, like Emilio, they probably would have been a grumpy mess given that they were in their lounge attire. Which consisted of only a pair of joggers and their sports bra. They were in good company though, so they remained as they were and walked about the apartment to find everything they needed. “Here,” They threw a towel onto Milo’s head and circled back to his bedroom to fetch a clean sweater. “Take this too and put it on instead.” The sweater landed next to him swiftly as Metzli rounded the couch and took off Milo’s shoes and socks. Sometimes it felt like they had a toddler as a roommate, but they didn’t mind. If they couldn’t convince him he had a problem, they would wait and stay by his side for as long as he needed until he could look in the mirror and accept his condition.

Metzli sighed, rising to their feet to place the shoes on the rack by the door. A solemn look took over their features as they placed the sneakers down. They knew Milo was hurting, but there wasn’t much to do but take care of his physical self. Unlike them, his story was written into his bones like braille, etching every word. Each from every line, every pill, and every puff. But he wouldn’t dare read that book because doing so would mean taking that leap without a parachute and feeling the truth with such velocity that survival couldn’t be seen. So he sat back, never daring to walk up to the edge of faith. Faith that people were on his side and didn’t see him as the problem, but the demon that resided inside. They would wait, and when he was ready, they’d take his hand, along with the many others that love him. Jump with him. And then he’d finally understand that every time they reached out, what they were really doing was saying, ‘I love you.’ 

“Why don’t you stay here, Abs? It’s coming down pretty hard and it’s late. You can take my bed. I don’t sleep anyway.”

“I wish I’d been driving, but I think it was still beneficial for both of us to talk.” Abigail’s wet boots made small tracks in the floor. She’d only taken a few steps before noticing, prompting her to remove her boots and moved to hang them in the rack next to the door so she wouldn’t drag more water inside. Her current choice in clothing made it apparent that she’d probably been out on a run before conveniently bumping into Milo. Abigail then pulled up her pant leg for a moment, removing a harness attached to her lower calf that held one of her knives, setting it inside one of her shoes. “I get why, there’s probably some really nice alcohol in that cabinet. If you want backup you should discuss the plan with me before we walk inside.” She let out a light chuckle while moving to sit down on the couch, stretching her legs out. Abigail looked over her shoulder to watch Metzli help Milo get cleaned up and settled in. It almost appeared to be some sort of unspoken routine that the two had.

Abigail almost couldn’t fathom their relationship, the two of them seemed content in the messiness that was the life they had, and there was something heartwarming in the root of the friendship there. She didn’t fully understand why they did it, or why she’d probably do the same. Abigail just knew that if the time arose, she wouldn’t be helping out of kindness or love, she’d be doing it with the knowledge that the other would do the same, and because she enjoyed seeing those she cared about safe and happy. Maybe that was what it really was after all, or maybe that was just a pessimistic way to think about it. Abigail blinked and left her thoughts behind once she heard Metzli speaking to her, returning her attention to the both of them. “I’d love to stay for the night Metz, thank you. I’ll stay on the couch if that’s okay, I’d feel more comfortable here anyways, closer to my things in the event of an emergency.” A small appreciative smile met Abigail’s cheeks as she gave a small nod, moving to lay down with her head on the armrest of the couch. 

Milo groaned in protest as a towel was thrown at his head. He only became aware of it when it hit him, and he pulled the material away from his face. Unaware of the passing of time, it felt as though only seconds later a sweater was also being forced upon him, but he was too tired, and too comfortable to put it on. He draped it lazily over his body, sinking further down into the cushions as Metzli tugged off his shoes. It was a gesture of affection he was more than used to. Even if his memories of being doted upon were hazy, he understood, and appreciated the time that his roommate spent taking care of him when he was unable to take care of himself. “...’m fine.” He insisted. “I’m jus’ gonna stay here like this…” Letting his eyes fall shut, he took a moment to enjoy the warmth that washed over him when his feet were freed from his waterlogged socks. The temperature of the apartment finally registered, and a shudder ran the length of his body. The darkness that encompassed him made it easier to focus on Metzli’s voice, and he smiled, all of the fight draining from his body. What was left of his tension, and fear fizzled away into nothing. “Hmm…” He hummed in agreement, needing Metzli to know Abigail had talked him into returning to the apartment. “Abigail didn’t want me t’ see my Sire t’night… thought it was a bad idea… I was going to though… I was going to do it…” 

Shifting his position, using his sweater as a blanket, he rested his cheek against the back of the sofa. The frames of his glasses were pressing awkwardly against his face, but he didn’t take them off. Doing so required far more effort than he was willing to expend. “There’s a lot of nice alcohol in the cabinet…” He confirmed. “They let me in it once…” Hearing Abigail move to take a seat, it made him happy to know she was going to spend the night. It was a reminder of just how much good there was in his life. Enough to counter the bad, at least. Maybe even enough to make the bad worth it. “You c’n take my bed, if you want…” He murmured, missing her comment on feeling more at home in the living room. “The mice are quiet… ‘nd the sheets are clean… probably.” The empty mug he had been clutching to his chest slipped out of his hand, landing on the cushion beside him, and he used the following freedom to curl more tightly in on himself, protecting himself from the outside world, from intrusive thoughts of the night that could have been. What would his Sire have said to him? What would he have said to his Sire? He didn’t need to dwell on questions that were impossible to answer. He could sleep soundly, secure in the knowledge that his Sire would be waiting for him whenever he was ready. And he wasn’t ready. But he had friends willing to support him when he decided he was.

Metzli’s brows furrowed in confusion at the mention of Milo’s sire. They knew, all too well, what a sire meant to those turned violently. While it wasn’t bloody and gruesome like theirs, Milo’s siring was violent all the same. Being left for dead, left alone to discover you were no longer human was a different kind of horror. Salivating at the smell of your own human blood was a jarring experience that Metzli would never forget. The very thought sent a chill down their spine as they covered both Abigail and Milo with blankets. “It was a bad idea, cariñito. But it’s okay. We’ll deal with it soon.” With a kiss to his wet and moppy hair, they sighed, bidding both their friends a good night, before they sat at their gaming desk and waited for morning to arrive.  

#writings #public #Metzli #Abigail #Milo #addiction #drug abuse #alcohol #Trust Me

[alchemabotana]

Horoscopes for New Moon in Cancer July 9th 2021

Horoscopes for the New Moon in Cancer

July 9th 2021

By Antonina “Little Thunder” Whaples

@whaplesantonina 

If you find these horoscopes useful, please consider voting for me in the Muscle and Fitness Hers front cover competition for 2021′s Ms. Health and Fitness: https://mshealthandfitness.com/2021/antonina

Digital painting by Antonina Whaples

Still steaming in the energy of the overarching solstice sun rays, this New Moon in cancer will have you blissfully forgetting any of the struggles of the very conflicted Capricorn dominated conversations of the last Full Moon. In the wake and bake of the solstice, our Yang energy gets an overdrive that manifests in contrasting ways. Looking at your focuses on this way down the epic landslide of energy will open up gates of knowledge to understandings about your true identity. With Saturn coming into center with Aquarius soon, and Jupiter hitting retrograde in Aquarius on July 28th, your inner databanks are getting a major makeover Queer Eye style.

Much of this reorganization will center around how we collectively feel about ourselves individually, our responsibilities for our words and actions in our communities, and how we plan to make real-time changes to our “Ways” in order to contribute to grand legacies. Legacies themselves will undergo a transformation of definition. We can thank good old Venus opposing Saturn in Aquarius for this. But, unlike the “tower of babble” moment, the scenarios brought up by this New Moon will have your communication systems recalibrating towards epic achievements of the mind/body/spirit varieties. It’s all about Love, your memories of it, the ways you’ve embodied it, and the sacrifices made for it. Some of those sacrifices are coming full circle, and in the New Moon, this will be mostly felt by the Yin collective consciousness as a major relief. If you’re feeling unbalanced on the 10th, try to focus on activities that bring you comfort and ease your mind. This act may feel like a true moment of spiritual rebellion. 

There’s a lot of hope in this moon, cradled by Cancers’ warm and loving waters. The “Home” is pivotal to this Moon’s inherent cleansing cycle, which may bring up dust and twigs swept under the rug. The idea of responsibility for our actions is heightened. We will all be challenged to face our own idiosyncrasies and dualities. This appears to be a long standing theme we’re all checking in and out of repeatedly until Neptune stations direct in Pisces on December 1st 2021. This very slow moving energy feels like a drum out of rhythm with our daily lives. Individually we are learning to tune into deeper vibrations of our own, and tune out wavelengths disruptive to our growth. This moon is a good time to move your body to healing sounds that help you manifest the emotional experiences attached to your not yet manifested dreams, hopes, prayers, and altar work.

Aries:

My fiery frequencies have been running too hot. I find places to release my steam that are quiet, dark, and all my own. Whether in the outside world, or my inner mind palace, I find slices of shade are my delight. I desire a type of self-synergy that can only be activated in the realms of the subconscious, and I make time to rest in the ways that make these new synapses happen. I want to learn and grow, and I’m giving myself the space to honor the eternal internal scholar within myself.

Taurus:

I’ve been typecasting my own archetype for some time, and I’ve realized those imprints have become outdated. I do not fear the revelation of my Cosmic Face to my own self, but rather look forward to the introduction of myself to Myself. I find ways to greet my emerging identity by balancing my time with friends and family. I take the time to meditate on what I am agreeing to when I go along with the herds. I respect my self sovereignty enough to reject projections on my personhood. I take responsibility for my own reflections on others, and these actions allow me to accept myself in any situation. I release all concepts of my empathic or psychic nature as negative, and allow the gifts I have been given to garnish me with life’s abundances.

Gemini:

I’m preparing for my mic drop moment. I’ve been writing bars and aiming for the stars, and I feel it coming. Not sure what, not sure when, but this moon is bringing mojo. I sense the message I was meant to embody is being written deeply inside me by a host of ghosts and ancestors ready to protect my destiny. Things are feeling extra cosmic, and I can almost feel my future touching me from time to time. I let myself enjoy my dreaming time, and this New Moon gives me a place to hide my secret poems and self reflections. There’s a softness coming over me, and I feel comfortable allowing myself to relax into the knowledge that my creative genius isn’t just valuable, it’s real.

Cancer:

The cycle of filling and emptying feels extra powerful under this New Moon. Elevated by this lunation, I use this dark moon to focus on the moments in-between. In this meditation, the world opens up a new concept of Time to me. In this knowledge I am able to reconstruct my psychological leanings away from worst-case-scenario and anxiety -laden secret self conversations. I don’t need to look outside myself for cues from the pack, and I am comfortable asserting my authoritative genius when applicable. This acknowledgement of my self-worth and efficacy gives me awareness that assists my community and gives others much needed moments of Hope & Joy.

Leo:

Things feel saucy in the right ways this new moon. Yin and Yang are focused on balancing my section of the sky’s influences this lunation cycle. Sometimes I feel the tug of my shadow side urging me to use my head AND my heart. Although I feel driven by the power of my heart center, and the emotions of my inner oceans, I find time to stop and ask myself “is this what I really want?”. When I allow myself to acknowledge the influences beckoning me to overspend my creative and sexual resources, I am able to find my personal zen. I discover new secret distractions in the everyday experience of relating and existing in community and friendship. I’m learning to tune my volume to the right settings, and this allows my audience to hear me clearly. Clarity has become increasingly important to me, as discernment makes me feel centered. This moon I use the dark hours to clear my mind, and calm my heart.

Virgo:

The quiet emptying of this New Moon secretly invites me to advocate for my silent needs in ways that feel safe to me. I practice self loyalty regularly, and renew my vows to my internal compass under the protection of the current skies. I know that moments like this aren’t always accessible, so when they are, I congratulate myself for my good luck. Spending time with private projects makes me feel centered and focused in ways that empower me. I use this darkened moon to look at my private world with a gentle eye. I know that my goals are just an echo of desires I’m learning to advocate for. Finding words for my journey helps me understand myself the way I wish to be understood.

Libra:

I am allowing myself to be seen and appreciated by myself. When I take the time to be in relationship with myself, my moods, and my memories, I find a special center. I’m manifesting a reality where my sense of self is solidified and appreciated by myself first and foremost. Through my self manifestation work, I am becoming aware and knowledgeable of the long history and sacrifices of those who came before me. I use this awareness to build gratitude within my heart center for myself and anyone else who shares in my archetype. My focus on self-healing is a radical step in my generational efforts in this timeline. I am an important person, and I tell myself so often.

Scorpio:

I am quietly waiting for new moments to try out my newfound knowledge. I’ve been watching and observing, but now it is my time to act. I take the reins of my destiny, and I do not apologize to the previous carriage driver. I know the power of an apology, which is why I know when one is owed or not. I do not need to struggle with power games that play in the psychopomp of the collective, and am my own sovereign spiritual space. I trust that my future is held in love & beauty and is supported by the generations of ancestors present on all planes. I am using this dark moon to get in touch with my essence and knowledge of my true self. 

Sagittarius:

This New Moon I am shedding responsibilities that have become recognizably not-mine. With this awareness has come the revelation of what is mine to control, and what is mine to let go. I accept the blessings of my responsibilities as the reason I am able to hold space for myself in my own life. I do not allow others to speak on my behalf, and use my voice to set the story straight. I use my energy for higher purposes and don’t have space this lunation to be dragged into any conflicts. I use my arrow to draw solid lines in the sand about which energetics I’m willing to play with. I promise myself to treat myself with compassion daily, especially as I outgrow scenarios and scenes that just ain’t me.

Capricorn:

I’m learning how to define karma for myself, and this New Moon is giving me a lot to think about. I understand that if I wish to heal, I must practice kindness towards myself. When I notice the mean monsters arrive in the darkness of night, I use my practical wisdom to ward them off. I’m noticing that fear doesn’t have as much power as I once imagined, and I’ve been slaying small demons like candycrush. This lunation I allow a space for the internal/external conflicts to find a cease-fire, and I find myself enjoying new mental quiet. I’m learning to trust the process of letting go, and this small cycle feels like the period at the end of a sentence.

Aquarius:

The labyrinths of my inner circuit board are asking me if I’ve tried turning it off and turning it back on again. When I consider my own off/on switch, I contemplate who I give access to it. When my triggers are alarming, I respect myself enough to take the time to respond carefully to my own messages. I acknowledge the wiring of the ancient ones, and use the ancient technology of this Moon to allow my power centers to upgrade. My dreamtime is especially sacred to me in these moments, and I use this lunation to discern important inner truths. I do not need to fear when I have premonitions, but instead, refocus that awareness on trusting my own intuition first and foremost. 

Pisces:

This New Moon I let out a deep sigh of relief. In the feelings of stuckness and frustration, I’ve discovered hidden patterns of life. As I discover which patterns benefit me the most, I learn to recalibrate my channels to an easier stream. This work opens me to timelines I may not have previously considered when vision-boarding and manifesting dreams. I thank the spiritual abbacus for working out ancient calculations this New Moon. I give gratitude when my supplies are distributed exactly how, where, and when they will make the greatest impact for my ultimate visionings. 

#horoscope #newmoon #moonhoroscope #aires #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #saggitarius #Capricorn #aquarius #pisces #shaman #shamanism #northcarolina #zodiac #zodiacsigns #psychic #premonitions #insight #wellness #meditation #affirmation #moonmagic

[teaplease1717]

Cheer for Me

Title: Cheer for Me

Chapter: 1 of 3

Relationship: Todoroki Shouto x Yaoyorozu Momo

Rating: E

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/chapters/73715034?show_comments=true&view_full_work=false#comment_403042800

Kudos to @flourchildwrites for betaing.

Summary:

When Shouto entered the quirk induced hallucination, he was prepared to find the motivation he would need to train to defeat Dabi. What he didn't expect was to end-up back at the U.A. sports festival nor to run into his seatmate who was conveniently or inconveniently dressed in the cheerleading outfit he so vividly remembered.

XXXXX

Chapter 1:

“Yaoyorozu—we can’t...”

Shouto bit back a low groan as Yaoyorozu kissed the side of his mouth. Her lips traveled up his jawline, and she ran her tongue along the sensitive patch of skin underneath his ear, making him tremble.

He closed his eyes. Shouto’s blood pounded in his veins as Yaoyorozu pressed closer, molding her curves into the hard plains of his. Her tongue flicked against his skin before sucking, and Shouto gasped, his eyes closing in pleasure.

He dropped his head against her shoulder. “Yaoyorozu…”

His hands rose to skim over the exposed skin of her waist that the orange cheerleading uniform failed to cover, unsure whether he wanted to push her away or drag her closer.

Kami, did she feel good.

Shouto couldn’t deny that he wanted this. More than anything, he wanted to touch and be touched by Yaoyorozu. Wanted to feel her flesh as he slid his hands under the short cheerleading skirt to grasp her ass or for her long legs to wrap around his waist as he picked her up but-

Sometimes what one desired wasn’t what one needed. And if he was going to defeat Dabi, Shouto needed to become a true hero—a hero like All Might.

And true heroes didn't dream about their friends this way.  

XXXXXX

When the quirk hit him, Shouto wasn’t prepared for how real everything would look.

Shouto blinked, assessing his surroundings.

The room was unremarkable yet vaguely familiar. Four large tables sat in the center, surrounded by green folding chairs. Stacked along the back were a few metal lockers. And the purple and white walls were bare except for a clock and black PA box.

Shouto turned around slowly. Behind him, two collapsible tables topped with water bottles and fresh towels sat next to the room’s only exit.

A sudden realization dawned on him. Shouto looked down, eyes widening. His hero uniform had been replaced by the standard blue and white fabric of U.A.’s gym uniform.

He was back at the sports festival.

Shouto’s stomach twisted. Aizawa and the 88th ranked pro hero, Ms. Motivation had informed them that her quirk created dream-like hallucinations based on their subconscious’ wishes. The dreams were supposed to provide motivation for their upcoming training but…

Why was Shouto here?

Behind him, the PA system crackled to life. Shouto looked up as Present Mic’s voice rang through the room.

“Laaaaadies and Gentlemeeeeen, we will be back after an hour break for the next match! The school’s most popular first year, Todoroki Shouto against–” His loud, obnoxious voice was drowned out by the roar of the crowd. “Make sure you check out the food stalls in the quad and stock up before this exciting showdown!”

The floor rumbled as the crowd cheered.

Shouto stared at the PA box as it fell silent, eyebrows rising. He knew quirks were powerful. Yaoyorozu could create non-living things using lipids from her body, and Eri had the ability to rewind time, but creating a world based purely on his memories was something new, even to him.

Walking over to the nearest table, Shouto lightly rapped his knuckles against the top. The material was solid under his fist. If he didn’t know any better, Shouto would’ve never guessed this was a hallucination.

Utsushimi would be jealous.

Shaking his head, Shouto pushed away his astonishment. He could think about it later. First, he needed to figure out why his subconscious had brought him here. How would coming back to the sports festival help him train to defeat Dabi?

Realistically, the answer was simple. This was the first time he’d accepted his power and used his left side. The first time he’d stepped out of the shadow his father cast over him.

This was his starting line.

Shouto’s lips thinned, and he turned towards the door.

Ms. Motivation never said how they would find their incentive, but Shouto figured the waiting room was probably a starting location, like in a game. A safe zone that he’d have to leave in order to find what he was looking for.

He slid his hands into the pockets of his sweats and glanced back at the clock. From Present Mic's announcement, he had an hour to figure out his motivation—that was unless his inspiration was linked to one of his fights?

Shouto frowned. Participating in the sports festival again hardly seemed like adequate encouragement to keep training, but was he really one to judge? Midoriya had been the person who'd forced Shouto to realize that he could still be a hero. Perhaps, if he talked to him, Shouto would figure out what he needed to defeat his brother.

“The future coming down the pipeline is one where all the schmaltz and lip service is gonna get blow away.”

Shouto stilled. His chest clenched as Dabi’s raspy voice echoed through his mind, squeezing his heart like fingers wrapping around the muscle.

He pulled his left hand out of his pocket and reached up to touch his throat. The burns had healed, but the memory of Dabi's hatred still lingered. Shouto could still feel his brother's blue flames as they scorched his skin and razed the life that Shouto and his family had painstakingly begun to rebuild.

Dabi needed to be stopped.

There was no way around that. Though, after the last battle, it was evident that his father wouldn’t be able to do it. Which meant the responsibility of stopping his brother was Shouto’s to carry.

He glanced down at his left hand.

Everything had changed since the last sports festival; Shouto had been making progress to become a hero he could be proud of, but was that enough? Dabi had been crafted from the fake hero society that only cared about the strong. To defeat him, Shouto would need to go beyond and become a true hero.

A hero like All Might.

Could he do it? He’d have to. That was what this training was supposed to prepare him for.

Plus Ultra.

Shouto’s lips thinned. He dropped his hand and reached out. His fingers curled around the metal door handle. He could think about it later. Standing there wouldn’t solve anything. Whatever he was supposed to find in this dream world, it wasn’t going to be in this room.

He pulled the door open and froze as all his thoughts about heroes and his brother came crashing to an abrupt halt.

“Yaoyorozu...”

“Todoroki-san!”

Standing before him, yellow pom-poms half raised as if to knock was Yaoyorozu Momo. She was dressed in the orange cheerleading outfit Mineta had tricked her into creating during their last sports festival. And her hair was pulled up into the style Shouto vividly remembered.  

Shit.

She even had the green choker around her slender neck.

Yaoyorozu pulled her hand back.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” she said, her cheeks reddening. “But I desired to wish you good luck before your next match.”

Shouto blinked. “What?” he asked, stupidly.

Yaoyorozu’s eyes widened fractionally.

“Not that I think you will require my support!” she added quickly, taking a step closer. Shouto swallowed and forced himself not to notice the low ‘v’ cut of her cropped top. “You’re the most capable, level-headed student of our grade, but Mineta-san was saying …” she trailed off, shoulders slumping. She avoided his gaze.

It was like a cold bucket of water had been poured over his head.

“Mineta,” Shouto repeated darkly, his mood immediately souring.

Despite knowing Yaoyorozu could take care of herself, Shouto found himself strangely protective of her. And something dark within him disliked the thought of his classmate talking to Yaoyorozu, much less tricking her into walking around in her cheerleading outfit for other men to see. “What did he say? Did he tell you to come here?”

She brought her pom-poms to her chest in a self-conscious manner as her blush deepened. “Well… he was trying to get me to visit some of the other participants. But…” Yaoyorozu hesitated. Then shook her head as if ridding herself of a thought before taking a deep breath and tipping her chin up to meet his gaze again.

“But don’t worry, Todoroki-san,” she said firmly. Yaoyorozu straightened, pulling her shoulders back. Her expression morphed into one of confidence. “I wasn’t going to let myself be tricked twice by Mineta-san. That’s why I’m here.”

She smiled brightly and leaned closer. “Because obviously, I'd only wish the one I believe should win the match good luck.”

A look of determination shone in her dark eyes, sending a strange warmth throughout Shouto's body and quickening his heartbeat. Yaoyorozu tilted her head to look up at him from underneath her long lashes. “So, I’m sorry to be a bother, but may I intrude?”

Shouto’s breath caught, and he stared.

What was going on?

This wasn’t what had occurred at the last sports festival. This dream world was rapidly going off track and into territory Shouto had only ever allowed himself to imagine in the dark of night. Alone.

Yet, Shouto couldn’t deny that a part of him was excited by that.

Yaoyorozu fidgeted and bit her bottom lip. “If now’s not an appropriate time, I can come back?”

Shouto started, snapping out of his stupor. “No, it's fine,” he said, stepping aside to allow her to enter.

Yaoyorozu’s dark eyes searched his face for a short moment before lowering her gaze and brushing past him and into the room. Her perfume smelled faintly of roses and chamomile, just as in the real world.

Shouto’s blood pounded faster in his veins.

Yaoyorozu walked over to the folding table and placed her pom-poms down. Her skirt swished around her long legs, and Shouto had to force himself to not stare at the low waistband of her skirt where the soft swell of her hips disappeared.

Stray thoughts Shouto had been attempting to ignore since she first appeared floated to the forefront of his mind. And he couldn’t help but wonder what she’d feel like if he touched her. If he kissed her. If he tasted her.

Shouto swallowed thickly, and flexed his hand.

He needed to calm down. These weren’t the thoughts of a hero.

It was the situation. Seeing her in the cheerleading uniform again brought back memories of the first time he thought of her as more than a classmate—when he jerked himself off behind the stadium during the break at the last sports festival.

The realization struck him like a punch to the gut. Shouto’s stomach twisted viciously.

Was this a cruel joke? Was Yaoyorozu dressed as a cheerleader supposed to be his inspiration? If it was, it was 100% the wrong kind of inspiration he needed.

'My quirk pulls on your subconscious desires to create whatever it is you need to see or experience to get you in the right mindset.'

The right mindset to do what, exactly? Not defeat Dabi, that’s for sure.

Shouto’s mind reeled. Was this his fault? No. It couldn't be it. Shouto thought back to the moments before Ms. Motivation had used her quirk and was fairly positive he hadn’t been thinking about Yaoyorozu. So then, was this a test?

Ms. Motivation and Aizawa never said finding their incentive to fight would be straightforward. Shouto’s mouth went dry.

But that didn’t make sense. Even in a dream world Yaoyorozu was the smartest person he knew. A true hero, the same as Midoriya. Was it wrong to at least hear her out? Perhaps she could give him a clue on figuring out his motivation. The cheerleading uniform must be some sort of fringe benefit.

“Todoroki-san, is everything alright?” Yaoyorozu asked, turning to face him.

Shouto started, realizing that he was staring. “Yeah.” He took a deep breath to calm his racing heart and turned to close the door. "What did you want to talk about? Is it about what Mineta said?"

“Well, sort of.” Yaoyorozu’s hand moved up to the loose pieces of hair framing her face and tucked the strands behind her ear. “Like I said before, I want to wish you good luck before your next match.” Wetting her lips, she inhaled unsteadily. Before glancing back up at him from underneath her long lashes, and Shouto forgot how to breathe.

A blush was coloring her cheeks, but her onyx eyes were dark and glittering with fiery resolve. Shouto couldn’t bring himself to back away as she stepped closer.

“And...” Yaoyorozu gave him a small bashful smile. He could feel the heat of her body through the thin material of his jacket. “I’ve heard that the best luck is through a kiss. So, please excuse me.”

Before Shouto could comprehend what was happening, she placed her hands on his chest and leaned forward, touching her lips to his.

#todomomo #todoroki x yaoyorozu #todoroki shouto #Yaoyorozu Momo #My writing #My Story #Cheer for Me

[livebloggingmydescentintomadness]

ashley every time i see your queued posts about parents and abuse and all i burst into tears on the spot. my parents are so emotionally reliant on me and i keep finding myself wanting to escape at any given moment. i'm a parent to my own parents and it just feels so incredibly exhausting and lonely, without any support system.....thank you for all the posts and resources you have on your blog. it gives me a boost when i need it the most.

oh darling, i’m so fucking sorry. your emotions are completely valid and make sense, and what you’re being forced to carry is wrong. you shouldn’t have to go through this, and it’s terrible that you are. of course it’s exhausting and overwhelming, because this isn’t how things are supposed to be, and you’re not made to carry this much.

someday you will escape, i promise. this isn’t forever. one day you’ll be an adult and you’ll get away and you’ll build your own life and your own family of choice and love. it will be hard, you’ll have trauma and shit to work through, but you’re going to get there and you’re going to find people who love you for you and don’t expect you to carry the weight of the world.

i’m sure it hasn’t been nearly as hard for me as it is for you, but my mom has often been emotionally reliant on me. it’s not entirely her fault and i don’t hate her for it, but it can be really, really difficult to have to hold up the person who’s supposed to be supporting you, and to love them but not be able to help resenting them for it. 

something i’ve learned is that it’s okay to gently but firmly institute some boundaries, as much as you’re able to do it safely. i don’t know how abusive your parents are so forgive me if this is out of the question, but as long as you don’t fear for your physical safety, consider telling your parent(s) something along the lines of, “i’m sorry, but i can’t handle this right now” when you’re at your limit and they’re trying to dump more on you. 

contemplate if you can turn being your parent’s parent to your advantage in any way, such as using it to claim a certain level of authority. i don’t know if that’s something that can work for you, but sometimes i can use my mom’s reliance on me to get her to do what i tell her to do - not in an unkind way, but in a “go do these other things that are good for you and you’ll feel better” way. 

of course that in of itself is more of a burden than you should have to carry, but it can at least make the situation more bearable if you can leverage some power out of the situation. if you feel safe trying it, you don’t need to just sit there and silently let them dump all their baggage on you. 

and ultimately, when you have a solid venue of escape, you are allowed to cut your ties and get out of there. you are not obligated to be your parents’ entire support system. you don’t owe them your live-in psychiatric services. in the meantime, try to talk to some other people, okay? you desperately need some friends to vent to. and it is okay for you to vent to people who care about you, i promise. people care about you and they won’t stop caring if you lean on them a little more.

you might already know about my resources masterpost, but please go through the abuse and trauma section anyway, particularly tags such as abuse tips and abuse resources. 

as you’re able to process it without breaking down, i want you to read about emotional abuse and parental abuse so that you fully understand what you’re going through, and i also want you to look at my therapy resources tag, because there are some free resources that might be able to help you right while you’re stuck in this house. i know it’s overwhelming, but it might be beneficial for you to learn about things like c-ptsd, parentification, and emotional incest, and to connect with other people who’ve had to go through these things.

if you need it, please don’t hesitate to contact someone through my hotlines tag. you deserve love and support, and it doesn’t matter that someone else might have it “worse” than you. it’s okay to need to talk to someone who is just there to help you, i promise. it’s okay to ask for attention, to have needs. you are a worthy, valuable person as you are, i promise.

maybe you just wanted to vent to me and didn’t want all this extra stuff, but i wanted to make sure you had all these options in case they’re helpful. feel free to vent to me any time you need it, and remember that it’s okay to cry. all your emotions are okay. please take care of yourself as best as you can, okay?

#abuse #parental abuse #emotional abuse #abuse tw #anonymous #ask

[tiredassmage]

5 and 14 :3c

Fanfic Writer Asks!

I know right off the top I'm gonna ramble, so this is all just gonna go under a read more cut so I'm not drowning people in my after-work-posted-next-morning... whatever's about to come out of my brain. xD

5. What makes your main ship so compatible? Or what makes them so incompatible? What do they see in each other?

So, I'm nothing if not incredibly indecisive and also incredibly attached to basically all of them, so let me answer this for three whole ships because they're all my mains and I love them all very much.

I'll start with Gaius x Astor because it's, admittedly, the one I've overthought how to "justify" using a starting point like this. I put off actually leaning into them being a pair at all because all I'd really known was there was a very notable distaste for him and gods, don't bring conflict into my little happy zone, please, it really was as simple as he showed up in the STB afterstory and I thought he was hot, that was IT, it really did start that way, let me have this.

But, anyway, the TLDR of why they get to me so much is because I'm very set on them having a level of intimate understanding of one another that a lot of others can't or won't for them because of their previous accomplishments, their titles, their history, their past. Through the course of the story, Astor feels the weight of all of these expectations and hopes he carries as a Warrior of Light weighing on him more and more and more to the point where, sometimes, it feels like it's just impossible to ever truly find peace for himself. He's not quite sure if he's really in touch with who he is or what he wants, when he stops to think about it, as being the hero doesn't exactly allow for a lot of time for it.

And Gaius is a man with two whole decades on him. Twenty plus years of more life experience. And an intimate, just as unsettling familiarity with the idea of trying to find a new way forward. Realizing your previous path isn't working, for one reason or another, yet possessed of the fortitude and resolve to carry on, anyway. To find a new way forward. Astor would be an absolute liar if he tried to say that wasn't appealing, that it isn't a part of the massive comfort being with Gaius has provided. And because of this mutual understanding foundation, they've been able to trust each other with a lot in a relatively short period of time. Astor is comfortable expressing his doubts to Gaius, how the praise and the commendations all feel almost sickening sometimes, how "you've done the impossible before" has started to become so exhaustively draining rather than a warm sentiment from a caring friend and coworker, and, in his own ways, Gaius has been able to do the same, though he's not exactly the same brutally bleeding heart Astor is. Where Astor might more easily be able to collapse unto words, finally putting sound to the myriad struggles that have plagued his mind for years now, Gaius is still a seasoned soldier and commander, and settled comfortably and almost without thought into this more protective role in the relationship - he's the unyielding rock, ready to catch his Warrior when he stumbles, reassure him that there is a way through this all. I think he's used to this sort of... take command of the situation kind of role, so Astor's comfort tends to be more of the being physically present, knowing what little tells and ticks the Garlean has that says more than words ever would. The way his eyes drop when there's more on his mind than he'll say. The way the muscles feather in his jaw when he's upset or angered by something, but holding back. The careful way he folds his hands together when considering something, or mulling over his next words. The subtle shifts in his eyes.

Really, they just have an understanding of one another, and they're two people that are struggling to find something new and solid to hold onto and plant their feet on while they feel out new, unstable territory, and they're doing it together, and that's what makes them a good support system for one another! And... I've already prattled on WAY longer than I should have, oh boy.

Somewhat related, kinda, then, is the reason why I fucking love Astor x Eden (@fatewalker-phoenix). They're our wholesomely good domestic couple that Are Just GOOD and they're just sO GOOD FOR EACH OTHER OKAY sobbing noises. Again, I'd really boil it down to them knowing each other well enough to know each other. They know what kind of support the other needs and when they need it. They also benefitted from starting off as friends and fellow adventurers, and the slow, steady progression from friends to lovers is definitely a part of their appeal to both of us involved. They're so good for each other, in fact, that Astor has clear desires for what kind of future he wants with her and for them. He knew he wanted to marry her, and he did!! And he wants to have a family with her one day!! And he believes that's possible! Because they're together! And they've got this! They've been through so much of everything together, so they have already seen each other in the highest highs and lowest lows. They get it, and they know it's okay! They know they fuck up sometimes, and most of the times... it's because they love one another. They so clearly take care of one another and it's just... It's the kind of good relationship I think everyone should have. Get you a fuckin' man that loves you as much as Astor loves Eden, okay.

It's a long running joke turned canon that, like, Astor knew he wanted to marry Eden going into Shadowbringers, but, y'know, the whole First thing happened, so he... didn't exactly have time to bring it up with her, and then the Lightwardens happen, and, basically, tldr, by the end of Shadowbringers, an exhausted by fighting multiple Lightwardens and containing all of that nasty aether Astor is toddling around telling people how he needs to find his WIFE and they're. They're not married yet. He hasn't fucking proposed to her yet. Hasn't even mentioned it to her. But she's wife. She's totally Wife. Have you seen how cool his wife is??? Yeah, she's fantastic. Incredible. So skilled.

Of course, he then actually gets to wife the girl, and he could not have possibly been happier than when she said yes. Except for maybe y'know... Just every time he gets to look over at her and realize... they did that. They're here. Them. This.

They did this. They're... them.

#answered #dot talk #to be continued #bc tumblr is dying #ch: astor caulfield #ch: eden azalea #astor x gaius #astoren

[swtorpadawan]

It Could Always Be Worse

Author’s Notes: The following story takes place sometime between Chapters 9 and 15 of Knights of the Fallen Empire.

It could always be worse. Gann thought to himself grudgingly.

Gann Vondern, a section head of Balmorran Arms, experienced the feeling as he stepped out of the hover-taxi, paid the driver, then turned to make his way back to his apartment complex after what had been a long day at the office.

If he were honest with himself, most of his days at the office had been running long for quite some time, now.

As he made his way up the walkway, he couldn’t help but look up at the horizon, his eyes inevitably drawn to what seemed to be the primary source of most of his problems these days.

The Zakuulan Star Fortress hung in low orbit over Balmorra, where it had been hovering for the past four years. With its looming presence, it was nearly impossible to transport anything of significant size either on or off the planet without the Eternal Empire’s official approval. That hadn’t stopped the corporate executives from trying, of course. But their overall sales these days – both their ‘approved’ shipments to the Republic and their black-market trade – were a fraction of what they once were. The Fortress periodically repositioned itself to center its attention (and its advanced observation capabilities) on the heart of Balmorran industrial might, the Sundari Flatlands. Sundari was the home to the famous Balmorran Arms Factory as well as more than a dozen other production and research facilities. Gann hadn’t been there at the time, but he’d heard that the battles for the flatlands – the most defensible position on all Balmorra with its trenches and natural fortifications – fought between the Sith Empire and the Galactic Republic had once represented the decisive clashes not only for the planet, but for the entire galaxy.

The Star Fortress could have annihilated the entire valley along with all of its vaunted defenses and all of its inhabitants with a single blast of its main cannon.  

Under the threat of that sort of pressure, all Balmorra had suffered. Economically and otherwise.

It hadn’t always been such. This world had once seemed a golden land of opportunity to Gann.

After years of suffering under Imperial rule, Balmorra had been liberated during the last war and had enjoyed a few precious years of prosperity with Republic credits pouring in and Balmorra’s weapons factories working almost non-stop to produce as much material as possible for the war effort, with everything from battle droids to blaster rifles to capital ship weapons coming off the assembly line. The devastated planet had been rebuilding rapidly; indeed, the ultra-modern apartment complex where Gann, his wife and daughter lived at the edge of the Flatlands was one such legacy of that ‘golden’ era. They had moved to Balmorra during these prosperous times, with Gann’s obvious talent in the fields of robotics and cybernetics quickly netting him a plum position at Balmorran Arms. Within two years, despite being an émigré – and possessing a slightly nervous social demeanor – he’d been promoted to section head of Research and Development of Cybernetic Projects. Talera, his wife and a skilled biochemist in her own right, soon gained a position advising the planetary government in the restoration of Balmorra’s devastated agriculture. His daughter Darial began attending a prestigious local school and was soon earning top marks. The rest of the galaxy may have been at war, but here on Balmorra, with their thriving military industry and newfound optimism, times had been good.

Then the Eternal Empire had attacked.

More war should have been good for a planet where the primary export was military weaponry, but that simple economic model depended upon the war being ‘ongoing’. Balmorra may have been spared another invasion, but it had nevertheless been subjugated by the blockade of ships from the Eternal Fleet.

Within a year of the initial attacks, both the Galactic Republic and the Sith Empire had effectively surrendered, forced to sign unfavorable treaties. Worse still for Balmorra, they had been forced to accept crippling restrictions to their respective militaries. Orders of equipment had been slashed dramatically. Times had grown lean for Balmorra and its illustrious defense industries as the planet had depended upon military exports for much of its gross domestic product. Even accounting for the Republic discreetly ‘cheating’ the system where it could get away with it, and the various black-market projects the company was engaging in, there had been budget cuts. Two of the younger engineers on Gann’s staff had already been laid off despite his protests. He knew that he was lucky to have kept his own position after everything that had happened, but the stress had been getting to him as of late. Talera, supportive as always, had always complained that he worked too much, but these days it was even worse. Even when he was at home, he could be listless and distracted. He was even starting to fear that his wife would leave him.

It could always be worse. Gann reminded himself again.

When it came down to it, it was a miracle that he was even alive and living here with his family in relative comfort. After all, if the Balmorrans ever discovered who Gann really was, they would lynch him and his family on the spot.

Once upon a time, years ago and in another life, Gann had been a talented cyberneticist on Dromund Kaas, the capital of the Sith Empire. Between designing enhancements for the Sith and producing prosthetics for injured Imperial soldiers, his future had appeared secured. Then he’d been abducted and enslaved by one Sith Lord only to catch the eye of a second Sith who had then sent a third Sith to extort him for one of his creations all so they could assassinate a fourth Sith. After that, he’d become a loose end. A liability in Sith internal politics. He’d grabbed his wife and daughter at the first chance and had fled the Empire.

All four Sith he’d encountered had proven to have been powerful individuals and highly placed within their Order. Gann even heard that the Twi’lek apprentice who’d taken his device had eventually ascended to a seat on the Dark Council. That apprentice – the future Darth Nox – may have spared him from a grisly execution on the spot, but he held no illusions beyond that. She’d outright told him he’d be dead if he ever re-emerged. Years later, word had trickled to him that Nox herself had ultimately been killed during some battle or another on Yavin, but Gann knew he could never be too safe. Regardless of his official legal status with the Sith Empire, his name would always be on someone’s list. They said that a Sith could hold a grudge forever, and having witnessed Lord Grathan’s cruelty first-hand, he believed it.

(To this day, what Grathan had forced Gann to do to those captured Imperial soldiers during the siege of Grathan’s estate gave him nightmares more than anything else he had ever experienced.)

Now, he’d been living on Balmorra for eight years. The identities of Gann and his family – secured years ago with the assistance of a skilled Anomid forger he’d contacted on Nar Shaddaa – had proven as solid as money could buy. The whole family had long since disguised their Kaasi accents, even while speaking alone at their apartment. Talera and Darial had ultimately thrived, acclimating to Balmorra even more fully than Gann himself. They had made only a few friends, but nevertheless, it had still been enough.

They had made Balmorra a home.

It hadn’t been a life without challenges, of course. As an off-worlder living on a planet that had been occupied for so long, a certain level of suspicion from Gann’s peers was natural, but by and large, his obvious talents – combined with his passion and dedication to his work – had convinced his colleagues of his veracity. Gann’s only recent concern was having drawn the attention of Balmorran Arms’ new director of security, Zenith. A local Twi’lek and a former leader in the planetary resistance, Zenith went about his work with great zeal, and had already managed to rub most of the firm’s employees the wrong way. As a transplant who had risen to the rank of section head, Gann had naturally drawn the security chief’s interest. Gann’s only consolation was that the paranoid Zenith seemed to suspect almost everyone of being an Imperial spy, so his concerns had thus far been undercut with their respective superiors, much to the engineer’s relief.

Gann knew he could never go back to the Empire, even if he had wanted to. And his dedication and commitment to Balmorra was completely sincere. If the planet were ever conquered by the Sith again, they would surely discover him. What they’d do to Gann and his family didn’t bare thinking about.

He couldn’t allow that.

Balmorra had to remain free from that fate, even if that freedom was a lie in light of Zakuul’s oppressive grip over their off-world trade.

For the moment, however, Gann’s more immediate concern was making apologies to Talera for coming home late… for the third time this week. Between Zenith’s security interviews and Gann’s quarreling with the other department heads over dwindling resources, his hours were getting worse all the time. He was dreading having to disappoint his wife again.

“I don’t know why she puts up with me.” He murmured, finally reaching the gate to his apartment complex.  

Just as Gann was about to insert his security key card to enter the facility, he suddenly felt an object pressed to the back of his neck.

“Don’t move.” A brusque voice demanded.

Gann’s blood froze as he recognized the sensation of a blaster barrel pointed against his skin. Before he could react, a hand reached out and snatched away the key card from Gann’s outstretched fingers. Whether out of fear or simple self-preservation, he forced himself not to move.

“Please don’t hurt me.” He stammered nervously. “I’m low on credits, but it’s all in my jacket. Just take whatever you want.”

“I’m not here to rob you, Mister Dorotsech.” The voice answered. It was masculine, firm, and Gann’s sharp ears could pick up just a faint trace of an Imperial accent. “I’m here to talk to you.”

The usage of his old name – Dorotsech – a name that he hadn’t heard, much less answered to in years –caused all of Gann’s anxiety to come flooding back with a vengeance, the memories of that past life coming to the fore.

A bizarre sensation of acceptance came over Gann in that moment, and his breath caught in his throat.

“If you’re going to kill me, do it quick.” Gann said quietly in resignation. “Just… please spare my family. They didn’t ask for this. They don’t have anything to do with this.”

The man behind him – Gann hoped it was just one – seemed to cluck his tongue reproachingly.

“Quite the fatalist, aren’t you?” a free hand reached out and ran up and down the shoulders of his corporate jacket – adorned with the Balmorran Arms logo - and trousers, briskly frisking him. Gann and his family lived in a safe neighborhood. He carried no weapons; just a portable holopad and a wrist communicator. These were quickly (and professionally) confiscated. The strong hand grasped his shoulder firmly. “Take a breath. We’re stepping around the corner. For privacy, you understand.”

Gann felt the barrel of the weapon behind him withdraw from the back of his neck, only to then press against his back. His shoulders sagged in defeat, his body acquiescing. He knew the security monitors at his complex should have picked up the intruder by now. In theory, a pair of guards should now be rushing to his aid, with law enforcement alerted and on the way. No doubt his captor had anticipated and accounted for all of that. As they turned the corner of the building, a realization dawned on him; this was all to avoid eyewitnesses. The pit of his stomach continued to build. He just knew he was doomed. His captor was clearly not Sith themselves – Sith had little use for blasters, and most didn’t care about privacy for their executions – but there could be no doubt that this individual was in service to a Sith. Most likely this was an assassin from Sith Intelligence, the successor to the feared Imperial Intelligence service Gann had avoided since escaping Grathan.

Gann and the unknown man came to a sudden stop.

“Good. Now turn around. Nice and slow.” His captor said.

Gann took some solace in the fact that he would at least see the face of his killer before he died. Taking a deep breath, he turned.

The man he faced was human; no surprise there. His face was fairly nondescript by Gann’s estimation, aside from some heavy scarring on the left side of his right cheek, clearly the result of an old injury from an explosion. Gann was immediately drawn to the cybernetic cranial implant around his eye just above the scars; by his estimation, it appeared to be a modified version of the standard Imperial device used by operatives of the Sith Empire. The man wore tactical body armor over an athletic build, and with a glance Gann could recognize numerous enhancements and modifications had been made. He carried a broken-down sniper rifle on his back, a model that could snap to the ready in a single motion.

Gann had feared this moment. He’d dreaded it for years. He’d even had nightmares about it. He’d spent the first forty-five years of his life terrified that he would somehow displease the wrong Sith and be killed on a whim, and had spent the last nine years since then terrified that either the Sith would find him for what he had done on Dromund Kaas or that someone on Balmorra would discover his identity and his entire life would come apart.

And with the realization that this moment had finally come, he had a crystal moment of clarity.

Talera and Darial… were his life. Not his position at Balmorran Arms. Not all his troubles and worries. Not even his cybernetic creations, which had been his passion for as long as he could remember.

His wife and daughter were all that mattered.

Exhaling the breath he had taken, Gann finally nodded. He’d dreaded this moment for years, but now that it had finally come, he didn’t care. His life was over. He knew that. The Sith Empire had found him. Zenith’s suspicions, the budget cuts at work, the constant threat of both the Sith and the Eternal Empires, Talera’s protestations that he worked too much… all his troubles seemed to melt away. None of them mattered, anymore.

It was strangely liberating. For the first time in years, he felt free of his troubles. All he felt was blissful acceptance.

“I’m ready.” Gann said to the assassin.

The operative, showing no change of expression, merely holstered his weapon.

“Good. Because someone wants a word with you.”

He reached down to his belt and pulled out a portable holo-transmitter, holding it out towards Gann. The device activated and a moment later an image appeared hovering above it.

It was a human female of medium height, clad in a dark tunic and body armor with durasteel shoulder pauldrons. She held herself with an impressive posture despite standing at ease with her hands tucked behind her confidently. Her blonde hair was cut short, and even without the lightsaber clipped to her belt, Gann would have marked her as an experienced combatant. Most important, when he studied her eyes, he could tell even through the blue tint of the projection that the irises were yellow; a tell-tale trait of the Sith.

Whatever faint hope of survival Gann had built back up at the operative’s apparent hesitation quickly faded.

“Mister Dorotsech, I presume.” The Sith gave him a cool and professional smile. Her accent was Imperial; Kaasi even. “I apologize if we’ve alarmed you. My associate and I have gone to a great deal of trouble to arrange for this meeting.” Her tone, like her expression, was crisp and professional. Authoritative, but not overbearing.

A velvet glove concealing an iron fist. Gann thought to himself, cynically. Having expected an immediate order of execution, he eyed the woman with suspicion.

“You needn’t be coy, my lord.” There was a bitter acceptance in his voice as he stood up straight. He could at least die on his feet. “I know full well how the Empire deals with ‘loose ends’ like myself.”

The Sith merely raised a withering eyebrow at that.

“Please, Mister Dorotsech. Neither I, nor my associate here, serve the Sith Empire any longer. Yes, we do know who you are and what you’ve done. And to be completely candid with you, no one has cared about the details of Darth Skotia’s death in years.”

Gann blinked. He’d heard that some Sith liked to ‘play with their food’, so to speak, and after his experiences with Grathan, he found those tales most credible. But for just a moment, he entertained the notion that he might somehow survive all of this.

“Please… call me Gann Vondern.” The cyberneticist spoke in a low voice, surprising himself at his own boldness. Sith could be vicious in the face of anything resembling impertinence. But he’d been afraid for so long, it felt good to say something asserting himself. “My name is not just a mask I wear. It is the existence – the life – I’ve made for myself.”

“Mister Vondern, then.” The Sith acquiesced, giving him a slight nod. “We require your assistance with a matter you seem to be uniquely well-suited for.”

Gann felt his body relax just a bit but wondered if his talents were again about to be ‘co-opted’ by yet another Sith.

“Several years ago, you produced a device called a ‘cyber neutralizer’ for Lord Zu'fanda, the future Darth Nox.” The Sith Lord began speaking matter-of-factly. “A device capable of crippling individuals who were equipped with cybernetic enhancements. We are interested in whether you could produce a similar device now, assuming that it fits our needs. Lord Grathan’s records mention you designing the neutralizer, and we know about what happened to Skotia, but there were no schematics included in the files we recovered.”

Gann swallowed in contemplation, licking his lips. Almost against his will, his mind, honed by his years of experience as an engineer, was already trying to tackle the problem. He’d always been like that – if only all the problems in his life were as easy to solve as an engineering challenge.

“Well. That would depend on how much of the target were still human.”

The Sith frowned in consideration.

“To the best of our knowledge, the target’s sole cybernetic enhancement is a prosthetic left arm, apparently severed above the elbow but beneath the shoulder.” she answered precisely. “He may have other hidden enhancements, but nothing visible to the eye.”  

Gann shook his head.

“Nowhere near enough. The neutralizer I designed works on most droids… and cyborgs who are at least fifty percent machine.”

Gann stopped himself as he finished, remembering how most Sith tended to react to bad news.

The woman in the projection merely furrowed her brow as her frown deepened.

“Why hasn’t Balmorran Arms been producing your device? You surely could have recreated it with their resources.”

“It’s cost-prohibitive.” Gann sighed. The realities of developing cost-effective technologies had always frustrated him. “It’s a one-time use device. After that, the circuits burn out. Producing even a single unit costs a fortune in time, money and power. The Republic wouldn’t have been interested in such a weapon, and it wouldn’t have been worth the company’s trouble marketing it to its… less savory clientele.”

The Sith turned to the operative, who had been standing silently through all of this.

“Your thoughts… agent?”

The cyberneticist noted the hesitation in the Sith’s question. He realized she didn’t want to give the engineer anything that would allow him to identify either of them. That was good. It made it much more likely that they hadn’t made the decision to eliminate him yet.

“Unfortunately, this seems like a dead end, Minister.” The operative answered, brusquely. “Even if we could re-produce the device, it wouldn’t work on our primary target.”

Gann’s ears perked up at the title of ‘Minister’ directed towards the Sith. Had they been deceiving him about their connection to the Sith Empire?

The woman’s eyes flickered in irritation, but she quickly pressed on.

“I agree. Pity. It could have given the Commander an edge against Arcann.”

Realization dawn on Gann at the mention of the name ‘Arcann’.  

“Wait. Arcann? As in Emperor Arcann??? You’re opposing the Zakuulans?” He was incredulous. The Eternal Empire had completely run over every enemy that had dared resist them in the past five years, commanded by their despotic Emperor. “Are you mad?”

The Sith turned towards the engineer again, once again with a raised eyebrow.

“I trust that isn’t something you plan on repeating to anyone, Mister Vondern?”

Gann could sense the implied threat in her voice. He wondered if she could Force-choke him by holo?

“Its not that.” He started to tremble. “I just…”  

“What, then?”

Gann’s mind was in turmoil. He couldn’t offer these people his neutralizer design. But they were actually willing to stand up to the Eternal Empire. If they’d found him – while the Sith Empire hadn’t – maybe they were capable enough to do what they dared?  

“Take me with you.” Gann said the words before he knew what he was doing.

The Sith in the projection blinked in surprise. The operative merely chuckled.

“Why would you want to join us?” the woman said after a moment. “You don’t even know who we are.”

Gann struggled to regain his footing, taking in a deep breath and trying to find his compass. He’d hardly taken a brave move in his life, aside from proposing to Talera. But today he felt different.

“I know enough.” He said. “I know you’re challenging the Eternal Empire. I know no one else has had the courage to even think about doing that in years. I know the Zakuulans are slowly choking the spirit out of Balmorra, and they could simply wipe us out at any moment. I know they’ve done exactly that elsewhere.”

“I want to be a part of stopping that.”

The Sith took it in slowly, then turned to her operative, who looked back at her but said nothing. She finally turned to Gann again.

“What about your life here? Our reports said you had a family.”

Was this how my life works, now? Gann wondered. I have to leave the things I care most about in order to protect them?

He found his answer.

“My wife has her own career.” he swallowed. “My daughter is about to start attending the University in Sobrik. They don’t need me anymore. Not as I am. Who knows, maybe I’ve been holding them back all this time. I just… I know I can’t continue with what I’ve been doing. I don’t want to live in fear anymore.”

The Sith seemed impressed by his declaration.

“Where you’ll be operating, it might be some time before you can contact your family.” The Sith warned him. “We can probably arrange something eventually, but I can’t promise that.”

Gann swallowed sadly.

“I understand.”

The Sith eyed him severely. He was reminded of a particularly harsh schoolteacher he had had as a child.

“Your assessment, agent?”

“Well.” The unnamed man regarded Gann for a moment. “He’s held up reasonably well for an engineer, and there’s nothing I imagine he’ll face with us that he hasn’t already faced in the last five minutes. And it would mean I hadn’t made this trip for nothing. Plus, our science division is always recruiting, and I’m sure Oggurobb will find something productive for him to do.”

That was another name Gann recognized.

“Doctor Juvard Illip Oggurobb is working with you?” he was even more impressed. The Hutt was renowned throughout the galaxy for his accomplishments in droid engineering and was the only five-time recipient of the Bao-Dur Science Prize. Gann had been an admirer of his work for decades.

“He does.” The Sith answered, scrutinizing Gann again.

After a long moment, she finally nodded.

“Very well. Mister Vondern, my name is Lana Beniko. On behalf of the Alliance, I welcome you into our ranks. Our agent here will see to your transportation and orientation.”

She concluded with a somewhat reassuring smile.

“We hope to see you here soon.”

With that, the transmission ended, the holoprojection vanishing.  

The operative turned to Gann with a grim smile.

“Our window is short, I’m afraid. We’ll remain undetected by the Star Fortress for only so long. Ah.” The operative – Beniko had merely called him agent – paused. “Here are your things, by the way.” He handed Gann back his keycard, datapad and communicator.

“Uhm. Thank you.” Gann stammered, fumbling a bit as he took back his possessions. “But what do I call you?”

“Oh, you can just call me Cipher Nine.”

Gann felt his face to turn pale in shock. The Cipher agents had been the top operatives of the old Imperial Intelligence. In an Empire of powerful Force-users and super soldiers, they had been ghosts; assassinating dissidents and disappearing into the shadows. He had always assumed that if the Empire ever did find him, it would be a Cipher agent.  

The operative’s grin just widened.

“Like you, my name represents the life I’ve built for myself.” He spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. “Docking Bay 94 at the Sobrik Spaceport. We lift off in one hour. Don’t be late.”

Without another word to Gann, the man turned and started walking off. He observed him as the cipher agent raised his own wrist communicator to his lips.

“Kaliyo, we’re green. Be back at the Phantom in forty-five minutes. We’ll have one passenger joining us…”

Even as he spoke, a personal stealth field activated. The man flickered and suddenly disappeared from sight, seemingly without a trace of having ever been there in the first place.

Gann checked his chrono. The entire encounter had lasted less than five minutes. Five minutes that had changed his life forever. He exhaled slowly, overwhelmed by what had just taken place.

There was so much to do. He could transmit his resignation to his bosses at B.A. for all he cared about his career at this point, but far more important, he would have to tell Talera. He doubted she’d be thrilled with this turn of events. His daughter… she would miss him, but he was confident she would be fine. His little girl had grown up. He’d be able to leave them with more than enough money and Talera’s position with the government should ensure they would not face significant scrutiny.

She would be angry. She might even leave him. He wouldn’t blame her if she did.

But maybe he’d be able to look at himself in the mirror again. Maybe his wife would understand.

As he used his key card to enter his complex, he felt a renewed sense of hope. Like a new dawn.

He’d been right. It could be worse.

Only now, it could eventually get better.

Author’s Notes: For the record, Talera winds up being supportive of Gann’s decision in the end. She will worry, and she absolutely isn’t thrilled that it is all last minute. But in the end, she understands.  

I have a fondness for taking very minor characters from the game and writing stories from their perspective. Dorotsech appears in the Sith Inquisitor story on Dromund Kaas, with the ‘default’ choice being to kill him. Zu'fanda was a dark-sider, but she wound up sparing him, since she thought she might need him later. That doesn’t come to pass, but I brought him back here.

Cipher Nine, the former Gahraath Vaiken, is the Imperial Agent in my Halcyon Legacy. He called Lana ‘Minister’ in front of Gann just to annoy her. The two respect each other but aren’t exactly friendly. See if you can figure out why he gave different times to Gann that he did to Kaliyo. Gahraath is technically a sniper, not an operative, but… meh. I can give him the abilities that i like in my head-canon.

I know Balmorra isn’t one of the Star Fortress planets in the actual game, but since its implied that most major planets have one, I feel comfortable saying that one is there. (It does get taken out, however, much to Gann’s relief.)

Zenith gets a cameo mention here because he fits the role of the over-zealous security officer too well. (A paranoid clock is right twice a day.) I also threw in a reference to Dretcher, that ‘old friend’ of Gault’s you meet during Knights of the Fallen Empire.

#swtor #swtor fanfiction #swtor fanfic #Tales from the Eternal Alliance #oc: corellan halcyon #oc: gahraath #oc: Gahraath Vaiken #lana beniko #Dorotsech #zenith #eternal alliance #the eternal alliance #the halcyon legacy #halcyon legacy #balmorra #balmorran arms factory #darth nox #sith inquisitor #oc: zu'fanda #imperial agent #cipher nine #Sundari Flatlands #star fortress #dretcher #doctor oggurobb

[g0dtier]

tw for domestic violence i guess

sooooo i was raised by a mom who has worked in CPS longer than ive been alive, worked in a retirement home for a few years and i was in therapy from 14-23 and my therapists always joked about me being In On It because my experiences in being always surrounded by people working in (mental or physical) health care kind of rubbed off on me and formed me as a person

i dont know how to say this without sounding conceited and wholly unethical but i have a Knack for that sort of thing and its biting me in the ass because i work for a lot of old people who do not understand anything about the health care system and who notice very quickly that i do. i do not mind helping my clients with forms, talking to them about their frustrations etc but i am not educated nor trained enough to be in the situation i am in right now

im currently sort of involved in a domestic violence situation regarding one of my clients. since i live very close to her and see her once a week for work and she is able to see me on her own (as opposed to her contact person who she has to call because she lives further away and she doesnt really see her without her husband, aka abuser, being present) shes been leaning on me too much for me to be comfortable with it

so last wednesday she made it REALLY clear she needed to talk about something important. we dont talk about the situation when im there, usually i hint at needing to go to the supermarket (which she lives next to) after and she offers to join and we talk on the way there. but last wednesday she actually really, panickingly, pushed for me to let her bring some christmas decorations to my house. she does that because she needs to talk obviously, but she needed an excuse bc her husband was there. so i could not get it over my heart to say no, and also obviously i was worried as shit

the good news is that experts ARE looking at the case right now, in the sense that an actual psych eval is being done and her husband might end up being put in a retirement home as the abuse is coming from dementia. the bad news is that shes old as balls and does not understand anything about it. she does not understand that convincing me to take a picture of a trash bag which she swears is full of letters he stole from her does not in fact proof that there are letters in that bag nor that he stole them from her to the police. she does not understand why they cant just drag him out of their home without any solid proof or experts looking at the case

so at the moment i am juggling helping her in the ways i CAN ethically do (i am a carer, not a friend, so that puts me in a healthcare position, yet im not educated enough to actually be able to give her any therapy or anything so i have to really watch what i say. friends are allowed to try and influence her, i am not because i am still in a position of authority for her and also i realize how it would work against her) , explaining to her how the system works and trying to make it clear to her that she cannot lean on me as a primary support system. so saturday she called me to ask if i knew about the forms she needed to fill in yet, and also just because she wanted to inform me that her husband kicked the shit out of her and that she was in contact with the police. will hear more on wednesday

i genuinely think she just wants help and to cover all the possible bases where she thinks she can get it, so im gonna explain to her exactly how the system works and try to reassure her because shes so scared itll have to get to the point where he beats her within an inch of her life before the authorities do something. but ive also told her that i cannot in good conscience be her primary support system and that id find orgs or crisis help for her where she COULD get the support needed and that id explain how the system works to her in a way she could understand

im stressed, man. i neither have the training to be able to fully help her nor do i have the training to compartmentalize this whole situation for myself. im talking about it with the people i know in healthcare that are close to me and its being a big help but im thinking of maybe getting back into therapy. but finding a new therapist is gonna be rough

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

Plus One

a wedding guest blurb about that time you and Harry showed up to a wedding without dates

or: you like champagne and Harry likes you.

wc: 2k

AN: this is my first reader insert so let me know what you think!!!! 

_______

You weren’t exactly a fan of weddings. The last one you went to was six months earlier--the bride was your ex-boyfriend’s cousin and you spent most of the night making small talk with his grandmother about how great the weather was and how beautiful the ceremony had been.

Which was true--it just wasn’t your idea of a perfect evening. 

And maybe you were a little bitter about this wedding. No one really enjoyed watching two people promise to spend their lives together only a week after you threw the towel in on your last relationship, right? 

So as you trudged into the reception hall and took in the sight of all of the name cards, you realized that this one wasn’t shaping out to be any better. Your name was written in pinterest-worthy script, and beside yours was his. You’d RSVP’ed long before the break up, and you weren’t about to throw a fit days before your co-workers wedding demanding that she remove the evidence of his existence from the decorations she’d been prepping for months. 

So instead of stomping out and mourning the relationship you were sure was the one, you made your way over to Table 13. You weren’t surprised to see that it was in the back of the room--hidden in a corner near the bathroom and far, far away from the dance floor. 

Your co-worker Nicole had begged you to come. And you loved her, of course you wanted to support her on her big day. The only catch was that you were the only one from the office in attendance and you didn’t know a single person aside from Nicole and her new husband, Josh. 

But it was a beautiful spot. A big tent on the grass of a beautiful mansion--one that was old and covered in ivory and you were going to make the best of it. The weather was warm for mid-August and seeing as your plus one recently decided he wanted to see other people, you only felt mildly awkward flying solo. 

So you dug through your purse until your fingers blindly found the sharpie that you knew was buried somewhere inside. You pulled it out, yanked off the cap, and crossed out the 15 letters that were printed below your name. 

“Should I ask?” A voice sounded beside you. A hand pulled out a chair from the table and dropped his name card above his plate. He left an empty seat between you as he sat down and let his eyes scan over the paper in your hands. 

“Oh, he just couldn’t come,” you let out a laugh--embarrassed to have been caught doing something so childish. 

“So you’re crossing him off altogether?” His accent let you know he was far from home, his green eyes and dark hair let you know that he was definitely not someone you’d met at the engagement party a year earlier. 

“He also said he wants to see other people. So, there’s that, too.”

He laughed at his, leaning back in his seat and letting his eyes scan over your face. “I’m Harry,” he said, extending a hand to shake yours. “Josh’s roommate from his study abroad in London.”

“Y/N,” you said, giving your hand in return. “Nicole’s co-worker. Glad to see I’m not the only one shoved to the back table.”

He laughed at this, leaning to the side when a server filled your glasses with water. “Whoa, I personally think we have the best seat in the house. Close to the loo, far enough from the dance floor that we hopefully won’t suffer from second-hand embarrassment when someone gets too drunk,” he shrugged his shoulders, still keeping a steady gaze on you. 

A couple joined the table, talking amongst themselves as you replied. “Yeah, well, I’m glad to be here. Even if he’s not,” you pointed down to the empty seat between you and Harry. 

“He sounds like an idiot, in all honesty,” he looked down at the fabric of the chair. “He’s missing out on free food and alcohol,” he paused for a second, bringing his eyes back up to yours. “And you--so the joke’s on him.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks as you pulled your gaze down to your hands. The simple gold ring he’d given you for your birthday was still on your right hand. You twisted it out of habit and wondered where he was. 

Harry turned to greet someone he knew--another man his age with a woman on his arm. You sed the moment to check your phone. No new messages. Barely two hours into the whole event of the night and you’d only had two drinks. Something needed to change fast. 

The rest of the guests seemed to filter in to the hall--the DJ started talking into the mic and before you knew it, your table was full. Ten seats in total, making it a solid nine minus your plus one. When Harry stood from his seat with his eyes on the bar, you followed his lead. 

“Waited long enough, right?”

“Absolutely,” he laughed, offering a hand in front of him to allow you to lead the way. 

“So you’ve known Josh for a while,” you fell into step beside him, watching as he let his thumb and pointer finger pluck at his lower lip. 

“Met in 2014 and lived together for a few months. Dirtiest flat I’ve ever inhabited, to be honest.”

You laughed at that--you’d heard countless stories from Nicole about how messy Josh could be.  “London, you said?”

He nodded as you came to a stop at the end of the line. “S’where I’m from, s’where he came for a semester.”

“Long way to travel for a wedding,” you remarked, shifting your weight to save your feet the pain of your wedges. 

“I live here now,” he explained, shoving a hand in the pocket of his trousers. “Josh and I had kept in touch and I came to visit the year after his time abroad and fell in love. Moved over about a year ago now.”

“That’s about when I started working with Nicole.”

“She’s in,” he trailed off, clearly wanting you to remind him of what your firm did.  

“Commercial real estate marketing,” you spit out the phrase like second nature. People could never seem to remember what you did for a living, but Harry nodded thoughtfully like he was interested.

You stepped a ways forward when the line in front of you moved. Only two people separated you from the bartenders as Harry replied. “Right--he’s told me that before.”

You smiled politely in an attempt to pretend it wasn’t awkward that you barely knew each other. Harry was cute and friendly and at least there was someone that made you feel like you weren’t totally out of place. Knowing your luck, though, he likely had a date who was in the bathroom or home sick or something of the sort. 

“Did your date back out last minute, too?” You forced the question out, probably sounding awkwardly and frantic. 

The side of his mouth pulled upward as if he was somewhat smug. “No--also flying solo. But, by choice.”

“You chose to come to a wedding by yourself?” You widened your eyes playfully--but also seriously wondering how someone as handsome and outgoing as he was could wind up here alone. 

He nodded and lifted his shoulders as if to downplay the decision. “Are you implying that I need someone to keep me company?”

“No,” you laughed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Not at all. Just--wish I had the confidence to show up at an event like this and not worry what everyone thinks about the lack of man beside me.”

He laughed and tilted his head to the side. “Well, you’ve got a man beside you now, and they’re paying attention--whoever they are--they’ll just think we’re together.”

He stepped up the open bar and rested his elbow on the wooden surface before you could reply. “Two of whatever she’s having,” he threw his chin in your direction as he removed two folded bills from his wallet and placed them in the tip jar. 

“Uh, just prosecco, please,” you stepped forward and waited--somewhat awkwardly--as the bartender turned her back to you both. 

The over-dramatic voice of the DJ floated over the air as he introduced the wedding party, prompting you to clap your hands together as the bartender filled your glasses. Once you both  had your drinks in hand, Harry made a move for the table.

“So you’re here alone by choice--do you know anyone else here?”

His eyes scanned the room as you settled back into your seats--this time he occupied the chair directly beside yours. He pursed his lips together, shook his head side to side, and then brought his eyes back to you. “No--just the happy couple.”

“And me,” you reminded, a small smile creeping over your lips. 

He raised his glass between you and clinked it against yours. “And you.”

“And for a living you…” your voice drifted, allowing him to pick up the sentence where you left off.

“User experience at a software company. Heard of Brinmoore?” His lips threatened to pull into a smirk, as if he knew your answer before the word left your mouth. 

“Never.”

“Me neither until I got here,” he laughed, leaning back in his chair again now and shrugging. “Pretty good, though. Quite like it, actually. Decent pay, decent benefits. Still don’t understand the whole American healthcare system, though.” He frowned and seemed to zone in on his place card that was now right next to yours. 

“Don’t get your hopes up,” you teased, suddenly enthralled with the way he brought his eyes back up to meet yours. 

You were interrupted momentarily by the couple across from you--they asked something about the dinner menu and made appropriate small talk as Harry seemed to sip as his champagne between stolen glances in your direction. 

A woman at your table--Shayna, who introduced herself as Nicole’s friend from high school--motioned between the two of you when Harry was in the middle of a conversation with her husband. 

“How long have you two been together?” She smiled politely, forking into the salad that was now being served. 

“We’re not,” you said quickly, letting your hand flutter in the air between you. “Just met tonight. Both here solo.”

Your words were choppy and forced--hopefully the blush on your cheeks was less evident in the dim lighting. 

“Oh--well, good timing then, huh?”

**

The cutting of the cake found you at the bar again--this time hoping to drown out the anxious voice in your head that worried about never finding your soulmate. The same bartender poured you the same drink, and when she offered it to you over the counter, you felt a hand on the small of your back. 

“Dipped out?”

Harry--whose tie was now loose around his neck after another three drinks--had red cheeks that you imagined were warm to the touch. 

“Needed a refill,” you raised the glass between you, watching as his eyes trailed down to your hand. He fell into step beside you as you headed back to the table

The music--which had been moderately upbeat all night--suddenly slowed. Shayna and Kevin were still seated side by side, laughing as they spoke with Nicole’s mother. 

You placed your champagne flute down on the table, and when you looked up, Harry’s hand was waiting expectantly, mid-air. 

“What?” You asked, looking down at his open palm. You could see some calluses at the base of his fingers--the rings he wore had left their mark on his otherwise smooth skin. 

“Dance?”

“Dance?” You repeated the word back at him, your eyes flickering over the parquet dance floor--as if you must have misheard him. 

“Dance,” he nodded, smiling again as you brought your eyes back to his. He bounced his hand in the air--as if to prompt a response from you--but you soon lifted your hand to find his. 

He pulled you in the direction of bride and groom--both of whom swayed in the center of a larger group of people. You looked around the room, certain that you looked like a fool dancing with a man you hardly knew and even more sure of the fact that you looked embarrassed and nervous and awkward. 

But the feeling didn’t last long. Harry pulled you up against him, his right arm snaking around your waist and his left lifting your hand to rest by your shoulders--which were now nearly touching in the midst of the crowd. 

He seemed to step into the song seamlessly, his body swaying and dipping with each beat as if he’d danced to the song a thousand times. He was warm--but the heat of his body next to yours was soothing and reassuring. 

By the end of the song he hummed into your ear--a quick glance in your direction was all he needed to know that you were more than content with the current arrangement. And when the song ended and Nicole and Josh were left staring at you in awe, Harry simply shrugged and nodded his head in the direction of the bar. 

“I’ll grab us another glass.”

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles fiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fan fic #1dff #one direction fanfic #1d fanfic #one direction fic #one direction imagine #harry styles one shot

[xxx-cat-xxx]

ghosts

Here are some post-Civil War team feelings and a bit of whump. Thanks to @whumphoarder for beta reading ❤

__________________________

Sometimes, Tony remembers.

Tonight he lies awake in his bed after Rhodey forced him out of the workshop at 3am, away from the prototype for his leg braces. Tony didn’t put up a fight because the guilt was still fresh and sharp and seeing his best friend navigate his wheelchair through the messy workshop was making him pliant, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to be able to rest. 

Sleep evades him, but the memories are there. Pepper, every night, making his heart ache in rhythm with his fractured sternum. His parents, dead in the car with smoke still rising from the broken engine. Siberia and the wormhole and Rhodey dropping out of the sky, falling and falling and falling until Tony’s body hits the mattress and he opens his eyes with a gasp. 

And then there’s the team. Sometimes, the ghosts come back to keep him company.

*

The plan was for Natasha to infiltrate an NSA division suspected to be running an undercover espionage programme with illegally obtained citizens’ data. She was supposed to go in, disguised with a photostatic veil as the lead technology officer, copy the evidence, and leave after the shift was over. Tony and Steve would be waiting outside with her ride home, ready to interfere in case something went wrong. 

Which it did, because, unbeknownst to their intel and definitely against the rules of the department she worked for, said technology officer was having an affair with one of her colleagues, who’d realised something was off when she tried to slide her hand into Nat’s pants in a storage room and in turn got punched in the face.

Nat was held, drugged, and interrogated. She didn’t spill, of course. Her cover didn’t get blown until half a day later, when Tony and Steve burst through the door to rescue her. She even managed to transfer enough of the evidence to Tony’s servers to build a solid case against the NSA division before she got blasted, so from that perspective, the mission was a success.

A success that came with a price, however, Tony thought as he leaned back in the pilot seat, having just maneuvered them out of the danger zone. The adrenaline was fading away to leave behind exhaustion and a pulsing pain in his hand. 

“Not again...” he muttered as he carefully removed the armour on his right arm to reveal a swollen, possibly broken wrist. He’d had to retract his gauntlet to open the digitally coded lock to the facility and he’d paid the price for forgetting to put it back on five minutes later when an overzealous security guard kicked him in the arm. He should really look into cloning again—an extra arm would definitely come in handy.

Behind him, Nat was throwing up into a basin, so quietly and efficiently that it almost looked like she was in control of what was happening. She was pale and sweaty, the stuff they’d drugged her with clearly not agreeing with her system. But the real sign she was still a bit out of it was that she didn’t protest at all when Steve sat close beside her and placed a hand on her back while she heaved.

“Don’t redecorate my quinjet, Romanov,” Tony said flippantly, swiverling his chair around. “I just finally got the blood out of the upholstery from your run-in with the Frankfurt cartel.” 

Still retching into the bowl, Nat flipped him off without even looking up. Tony noticed she was trembling slightly.

He got up and moved over to the lockers, limping a bit―(when did that happen?)―as he went, and fetched the threadbare blanket Bruce used to wrap around himself after de-hulking. Steve bit his lip when Tony draped the tattered thing over Nat’s shoulders and he knew they were all thinking the same thing.

The absence of Bruce and Clint was almost tangible. Steve tended to be the one to get their spirits up before the missions, and Tony would chatter continuously during the fight, but afterwards it had usually been Clint who’d take care of them all in his own, inscrutable way. He was especially good at building the team up again after things went wrong, taking the blame off each of their individual shoulders and distributing it evenly across all of them. 

“Not your fault, Cap. Can’t save ‘em all,” he’d remind the soldier after a particularly rough mission. Or he’d thrust a jammed weapon into Tony’s hands and tell him to stop brooding and make himself useful. “Don’t give me that emo look,” he’d tell Nat whenever she was sulking. “We talked about this.” And nobody would ever know what it was that the two had talked about, but a bit of tension would fall off her shoulders.

Tony wonders, sometimes, whether they’d instinctively known that Bruce’s departure and Clint’s retirement would mark the beginning of the end of the Avengers. Whether somewhere deep inside, all of them were counting the days they had left.

“What happened to your wrist?” Steve broke the silence.

“He frac’ured it again,” Nat said hoarsely, slurring her words just a little. “Will never learn to put that glove back on.”

Tony laughed.

*

Their first stop was at the compound’s medical bay where they were told that Nat couldn’t do anything more than sleep off the effects of the drug and make sure to stay hydrated. Tony’s wrist, to everyone’s surprise, was only badly sprained this time, and they let him go after bandaging it. 

He was starting to feel the effects of the fight by then, the beginning soreness of his muscles and annoying pain from all his bruises. Exhaustion was clinging heavily to his limbs; he hadn’t slept the previous night, busy going through the intel and testing the comms to make sure the mission would be successful before leaving at daybreak.

Nat also looked like she could use a bed, unsteady on her feet and even less talkative than usual, but there was a silent understanding between Steve and Tony not to leave her alone in a dark room while the drugs were still messing with her mind. They all had their own ghosts, and even if she didn’t talk about them, they weren’t about to let Nat fight hers on her own.

They gathered in the common room where JARVIS had already ordered Thai and pizza, as well as ginger lemonade to combat the nausea. Bruce would have made a fresh jug himself if he were here, Tony caught himself thinking, and quickly shook his head to get rid of the melancholic feelings that threatened to overtake him.

He helped himself to rice and curry and sat down heavily in the armchair, switching on the TV and flipping through the channels as he ate. Nat held her head tipped back against the sofa, still pale, eyes half-closed. She was alternating between taking small bites from a piece of Margherita and sipping on her lemonade. Next to her, Steve was devouring the pizza like his life depended on it, but Tony was long past joking about the man’s increased need for calories.

“Who wants a drink?” Tony asked over the background noise of a news anchor announcing breaking news on the NSA data leak.

“Daiquiri,” Nat ordered, and it was a testimony to what they’d all been through together that no one questioned her ability to stomach rum a mere hour and a half after puking her guts up into a plastic bowl.

Tony pushed himself up from the chair and made it about two seconds on his feet before the headrush made him stumble blindly into the table. 

"Whoa..." he breathed out at the same moment that Steve said "Steady" and jumped up to help. 

“Think I really need that drink,” Tony commented, leaning on the larger man for support and rubbing his eyes with a groan until the haze cleared. 

“I think you really need to sleep,” Steve scolded in his best worried-dad voice. Tony snorted and gazed up at the other man until he sighed and gave in. “Okay, I’ll get them. Sit down before you fall over.” 

Tony gave him the prettiest smile he could muster. “That’s what I like to hear. Scotch for me, please.”

And so it ended. Nat had fallen asleep against Steve’s shoulder (or, having allowed herself to fall, to be precise; they all knew it was a gesture of trust and nothing that happened accidentally. Tony was stretched out in the armchair, idly swirling the ice in his scotch glass. Pink Floyd was playing in the background, and Steve was subconsciously tapping his foot along with the rhythm while finishing off the Thai leftovers.

The two men shared a smile across the coffee table—briefly, casually—and then Steve gently shifted Nat to lie down on the couch where she immediately curled up like a cat between the pillows, her dark red curls falling loosely over her face. He covered her with a blanket and threw another one over to Tony, who set down his glass just in time to catch it. 

Steve left for a bit and returned with a novel and a cup of tea. Tony turned up the music a few notches and slowly let his eyes slip shut. He already knew that they’d all still be there come morning. 

*

Tony isn’t sure why it’s this mission that comes back to him that night. It’s nothing special, nothing even particularly successful—just a bunch of injuries and comfort food, typical for how they used to operate. 

He wonders whether Steve knew, back then. Whether Nat had already picked her side.

If anyone were to ask him now, he’d say he’s angry—furious, even—because that’s easier to deal with than the sadness that comes along with betrayal. And what he’d never say is that he misses them. 

He doesn’t. 

He really doesn’t.

(He’s always been such a good liar.)

Tony blinks into the darkness and their faces disappear. The memories might fade by morning, but the ghosts are here to stay.

#avengers team fic #tony stark #natasha romanov #steve rogers #whump

[dungeons-and-dragons-and-whump]

lately ive been into epithet erased (which is REALLY GOOD you should watch it if u havent) and been lookin all over for whump but have found none so. did it myself.

_____

Percival King is Not Afraid of Pain / Rated PG for violence / angst/hurt/comfort / feat. finger whump, fire whump (is there a name for that? I don’t know)

Percival King was not afraid of pain.

Pain was nothing more than a natural response of the body, often following an action that caused physical harm. An alarm system, if you will, to ensure that one ceased the dangerous activity as soon as possible to avoid further damage.

Percival King was not afraid of pain.

Or, at least, that is what she told herself, as she was backhanded across the face for the fifth time since she had woken up fifteen minutes before.

“Do you think I’m playin’?!” The masked figure shouted, leaning uncomfortably close to her face. “I’m not afraid to kill you! I’ve killed before!”

“Regardless of their criminal record, anyone is capable of taking a life.” Was the officer’s nonchalant response. “Admitting to having committed such a heinous crime in the past only digs your grave deeper, my friend.”

“I am no friend of a cop!!” The young man slammed his fist down on the table beside her - which, seemed to be its’ only purpose, as the surface was bare. “And I’m not getting caught!! Tell me where the amulet is, now!!”

“That information is classified.” Percy replied firmly, shifting her wrists where they were locked in the cuffs behind her back. “You may as well give up. I am not going to give in.”

“We’ll see about that.” Fuming, the boy turned and stomped away into the darkness. Blinking into the bright light aimed at her face, Percy twisted her wrists once more, trying to get a better view of her surroundings.

She wasn’t entirely sure how, but approximately seventeen minutes ago now she had awoken in a dark room, chained to a chair with Eraser cuffs and very disoriented. Her captor - face hidden by a ski mask - had soon discovered she was awake, and had set to interrogating her in the hopes of finding a lead on the Arsene Amulet.

It was pitch-black other than the light in her eyes, so she had no clue as to what time of day it was, but the detective was confident that she would soon be found and rescued. Otherwise… she wasn’t sure how to get out. Her epithet was as good as gone, and her sword was nowhere to be found. Unless her captor slipped up, she was, unfortunately, rather helpless.

Speak of the devil, her captor appeared once more from the darkness, brandishing a lighter in one hand.

“Fire?” Percy questioned in amusement. “An amateur move, to be sure.”

“Maybe so, but I’ll take it if it gets you to talk.” He spat. She caught another voice in the darkness to her right - he wasn’t alone. Reaching out, the young man grabbed a shock of her hair, yanking her head to the right as he flicked the lighter open. Percy didn’t fight him, only tracked the dancing flame with her eyes as he held it close to her cheek.

“Where is the Arsene Amulet?” He demanded once more. Percy did not respond. “Tell me!” Nothing. “Now!” He edged the lighter closer. The heat on her face wasn’t painful, not yet, but it was getting to be quite uncomfortable. Still, she didn’t speak. “You really don’t want me to do this, cop!” He yelled, getting in her face once more. Her only response was to raise one corner of her mouth in a grimace.

He pressed the lighter against her cheek.

Percy was disappointed to hear a pained sound come from her mouth, her face scrunching up into a wince as she tried to jerk away. Unfortunately, though, the hand in her hair was strong, and all she accomplished was additional pain from the tugging of her hair from her scalp before the lighter flicked off.

“You see?!” Before she could recover, his hand struck her across the face again. “I’m not playing!!”

“I can see that.” She responded through gritted teeth.

“Then talk!!”

“No.” He hit her again, then whirled around, retreating into the darkness once more.

Rolling one shoulder, Percy craned her neck to press her burned cheek against the fabric of her jacket. While she obviously couldn’t see the damage, the wound felt raw and open. Most likely second-degree.

Returning once more, her masked captor set a pair of pliers down on the table beside her before coming around behind her and beginning to work at her cuffs. Percy waited with bated breath as one wrist was freed- her left. The now-empty cuff was then locked to a leg of her chair before the young man crossed into her field of vision again, her limp wrist held firmly in his grasp.

Snatching up the pliers, the man slammed her hand down onto the arm of the chair, positioning the pliers around her pinky finger - bare and unprotected, her gloves were missing. Percy winced in apprehension, but didn’t fight it.

“Talk.” His voice was low, and his eyes through the mask burned with intensity and rage. Percy shook her head once. He squeezed.

Percy let out a pained grunt as an audible crunch came from her pinky finger, pain shooting up her arm and into her body. The man released her for a moment, and she clutched her hand to her chest, bending over her shattered finger as pained tears threatened to flood her vision.

The next moment, she was on her feet, kicking her chair backwards and causing the other cuff to slip free before hurling a fist into her captor’s face.

The young man let out a startled yell as her punch landed straight on his nose, and she was already throwing another by the time he opened his eyes. Her second punch sent him crashing to the ground, but the next moment she found herself tackled to the ground by a second figure in a ski mask.

“Pin ‘er!!” The first voice snarled, and she twisted, trying to get a leg underneath her to unbalance her opponent. Abruptly, she was cut off by her own yelp of pain as one of her captor’s hands landed squarely on her broken finger, grinding it into the concrete floor. 

Her right hand flew to her left, trying to protect her damaged hand, but this only alerted her captor to her pain and caused him to press harder. A pained wail escaping her throat, Percy scrabbled at the hand pinning her down, desperately trying to stop the pain that blinded her senses. A second hand seized her right wrist, slamming it onto the cold floor, and she looked up with wide eyes as the first man aligned the pliers with her right little finger.

“No-!” The single syllable escaped her before she could stop it, but it was no use as it was cut off by another yell, accompanied by the sound of her bone shattering. She struggled, fighting against both of the men holding her down, but her stamina was too low, she was just too weak-

A loud crash of metal on metal rang out through the cavernous room, and Percy looked up with tear-filled eyes to see a new light source illuminating the room behind her captors.

“None o’ that now. Folks are tryin’a work.” The next moment, something cracked against the head of the first man, and he slumped forward on top of her. Percy began to scramble away as the second jerked up, spinning around to try and defend himself from this new contender. Unfortunately for him, he was no match against the force that took out his partner, and a solid force slammed into his head which sent him crashing to the ground.

Pushing herself up into a sitting position, Percy grimaced, holding her injured hands tightly to her chest. A silhouette appeared against the new light, and she blinked up at them as they approached.

“Percy King.” Howie Honeyglow squatted down beside her, casting a disdainful glance at her broken and bruised pinky fingers. “Should’a guessed it was you causin’ all that racket.”

“Believe me, it was not my intent.” Her voice was raised in pitch, and she swallowed to force it back down to normal. “I am- not sure how I ended up in this situation, but-” She flinched away as he reached for her hands, and he stopped. “Those two were attempting to wrest from me any information I would give them on the Arsene Amulet.”

“That the magical doo-hickey everyone been fightin’ over?” Howie rumbled. “Waste of time, ‘ask me.”

“Hmm.” Slowly, painstakingly, Percy got to her feet, Howie keeping a watchful eye trained on her should she stumble and fall. “I need to get back to the station. Those two- I need to restrain them. They cannot be allowed to escape.”

“You need a doctor.” Howie corrected sternly. “They’ll be out for long enough, you get those bones set. Ya didn’t win the fight, ya didn’t get healed.”

“I’m aware.” Percy gave in, guarding her broken hands as she began to make her way towards the door. Barely a moment passed before she heard the shuffle of leather on concrete, Howie catching up to her with ease as she limped towards the exit. He eyed her for a moment, then slipped an arm under hers, supporting her as she made her way towards the street.

“Did you tell ‘em?” He asked, his voice low. She shook her head.

“No.”

“Good.” His tone left no room for argument. “Y’did yer job.”

He walked her all the way to the hospital.

#tw fingore #whump #tw burning #epithet erased #whumpblr #percival king #howie honeyglow

[ask-de-writer]

DARING DO and the ADVENTURE of the X'IBIAN VASE! : MLP Fan Fiction : Part 19 of 21

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to MLP Fan Fiction

Daring Do

and the Adventure of the X'ibian Vase!

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

And

Carmen Pondiego

Cover Art by

Doctor Dimension

52630 words

© 2015 by Glen Ten-Eyck

Writing begun 08/26/15

All rights reserved.  This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

//////////////

Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may reblog the story.  They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions, provided that such things are done without charge.  I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images.  

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fictions is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

Sharp bronze blades shot out from the wall!  One sliced lightly across the skin of Tyranny’s neck and cut the top of his extended foreleg, causing him to squall in pain!

“I can’t get away from this!  Somepony help me!”

A little further down the causeway, Daring Do was struggling!  A blade driven through, high up, lifting her from the pave!

~~ ~~ ~~

In the deeply hidden control room of VILE’s floating island headquarters, Carmen was shaking Marehem like he was a rag doll!  Dropping him, she pointed to the Mirror of Distant Sight where Daring Do could be seen struggling, supported by the antique bronze blade.

“I told you to KEEP HER SAFE!  Do you call that SAFE?”

Marehem picked himself up and studied the image showing in the Mirror. Nodding in his cheerfully annoying way, he snarked back, “Yes!”

Carmen stopped like she’d hit a brick wall.  “How?”

Pointing carefully, Marehem suggested, “Take a CLOSE look.”

Carmen examined the scene carefully and nodded slowly.  The scene in the mirror shifted to the darkened interior of a vault.  “Let’s see, the Ruby Rose of the West is guarded by …”

The notes for her next heist, er, exploit, grew.

~~ ~~ ~~

While the others were still staring in shock at the apparent disaster that Tyranny had triggered, Jeremy called out, “Stay still, Doctor Do!  I am on my way!”

Daring Do ceased her struggles, hanging limply from the extended blade of the trap.  Jeremy took a grapnel from his saddle pack and twirled the multi pronged hook, letting it fly expertly to the top of the wall that concealed the deadly mechanism.  After assuring himself that it was securely hooked, Jeremy pulled himself up and traversed the blades by carefully stepping on them.  At the end of the trap, he let himself down to the pave.  He gave the grapnel rope a flip that freed the hook.

Coiling the rope, he asked Daring Do, “Do you know how to reset this trap?  If the blade can simply pull back into the wall, that will be the safest way to get it out of your pack.”

Daring Do pointed to a tall stone.  “I think that hides the reset for the blade mechanism.”

Nodding, Jeremy checked the stone over with care.  There was a quiet click and it pulled open like a cabinet, revealing a long lever.  He cautiously pulled it back.  As he did, the blades slid silently back into the wall, hidden as before.  The blade carrying Daring Do retreated into the ancient stone, sliding out of her pack, as it went into the wall to await its next victim.

She leaned against the wall and asked in a shaken voice, “How did it go off?  I thought that I marked all the triggers with the chalk dust.  Did I miss one?”

Grimly Sang He pointed to Tyranny, who was trying to stanch the blood from his cut foreleg.  “That one.  He deliberately hit one of the triggers.  The only reason that he lives is that the one called Robber tried to stop his idiocy by pulling him back.”

`Robber literally sat on Tyranny and said gently but with absolute conviction, “You asked how likely it was that such ancient traps could work.  You have your answer.  If you do one more thing that you are not supposed to do, I will push you off this causeway myself.  I want to stay alive. That is even more important than any ritual, no matter what reward it may give.”

He got up and left Tyranny to limp to his feet.  “At least bandage up my cuts!”

Overthrow responded, “No.  The pain and occasional bleeding will remind you that you are in a very dangerous place and MUST do exactly as told.

”Sehang Shu suggested with a grin, “That unworthy dung beetle has showed us his talent!  Let him go ahead of us down the causeway.  He is sure to set off EVERY trap, greatly simplifying our task of getting to the bottom safely!  Of course, after the next one that he springs, we will have to roll his corpse the rest of the way down.”

Sang He, joining in, suggested, “Perhaps we should not do that.  If something hit his head a valuable antique could be seriously damaged!”

Daring Do was inventorying her damaged pack.  She sadly examined her shredded notes and drawings.  Jeremy leaned over her shoulder to see.  “I believe that I can fix those, Doctor Do.  Will you let me try?”

She looked up at him.  “Jeremy, I thought that your talent lay in restoring antiquities.”

Glancing over at Robber, Overthrow and Tyranny, Jeremy nodded, “That is primarily what it is good for, Doctor Do.  It can also restore that which is damaged, if it has to do with antiques.  That is what all of your notes here are about.”

To be sure that no breeze stole any precious fragment, Daring Do gave Jeremy her whole pack.  To the displeasure of Tyranny, Jeremy sat where he could shield the contents of the pack and set to work, sorting torn and sliced parts.  As fast as he found any two that fit together, he ran a skilled hoof across the fitted edges.  Each page that he did it to was restored as if it had never had an ancient bronze blade driven forcefully through it.

Without a word, he handed the entire batch of repaired notes and drawings back to Daring Do, both the precious papers and her pack were perfectly restored.

Daring Do shouldered her pack with a smile of thanks to Jeremy.  She worked her way slowly down the the causeway, her loosely woven bag of fine chalk dust leaving many marked stones on both the road and the cliff wall!

They came to one place where she stopped cold. Very carefully, watching each foot placement, she slowly backed away.

She was almost back to the others when there was the tiniest of clicking sounds.  Sang He lunged forward, hitting the pave with her body spreadeagled.  Kanya Ama and Sehang Shu leaped forward and grabbed their herd leader’s hind legs as Sang He wrapped Daring Do in a solid grip. The paving under both of them fell away!

With Daring Do held securely in her grip, Sang He lay bent down at the waist, kept from falling by her two herdmates.  The rest of the herd moved almost as one to lower ropes and secure them about their friends.  The sheer power and strength of the dromedaries was easily apparent as they heaved, lifting the two to the relative safety of the causeway with its known traps!

Soree, knowing exactly what was expected of her, also leaped forward and stared down into the trap.  She began to sketch rapidly, concentrating on her work.  Soon, done with her drawing, she made swift notes in her native Saddle Arabian.

Jeremy asked the still shaking Daring Do, “Is it safe to use the grapnel in that iron loop up there on the wall about half way across?”

It was Sehang Shu who answered, “No, Jeremy.  That is, as you suspected, just another way land on those spikes, one hundred meters down there at the bottom.”

He nodded, “It has been used enough that I noticed that there are movement marks under it.  I was not sure, though.  This is my first expedition into the field.”

Soree held out her sketchbook and pointed.  “These four of the eighteen skeletons down there tried to swing across.  They all landed in that one place, indicating that they were all released at the exact same point in their swing.”

Robber joined them quietly and respectfully asked, “How do you know that those four tried to swing across?  For that matter, how do you know that there are eighteen of them down there?  I only see a big tangled mass of bones.”

Jeremy, still examining Soree’s excellent sketch, replied, “Those four, all landing in the same place, are a simple trajectory solution.

“For the total, if you look at the drawing, she counted the skulls.  Those are big enough to see and unique to each single individual.”

“I see.  Thank you.”  Robber returned to the others, watching his steps with care.

Jeremy swung his grapnel and released it with precision.  The hook sailed up over the top of the old stonework and clattered on the opposite side. He gave several experimental tugs on the line.

Turning to Sehang Shu, he gave her a hug.  “I will see you on the other side, Shu.”

With some humor, she replied, “Of the trap, Jeremy.  Not the other Other Side!”

Jeremy wrapped the line securely about his hoof and swung out, over the yawning abyss.

He had to lift his hooves some to clear the stones on the other edge of the ancient trap.  Expertly, he set his hooves and caught himself. Searching about a little, he found a loose stone that had dropped to the causeway surface sometime in the last three thousand years.

Knotting the stone into a secure cage of rope, Jeremy swung it back across the abyss.  Daring Do caught the pendulum of rope and stone.  She gave a tug to be sure that it was still secure and, with the confidence of long experience, she leaped out over the yawning pit of death.

Her landing was assisted by Jeremy.  Soree came next, calling, “Whee!” as if the rope swing was a fair thrill ride!

Sang He caught the swinging stone and called across the gap, “Jeremy, will this be safe for us of herd?”

He called back, “Yes!  It has working load of three tonnes.  That is with a safety factor of two.”  

The big dromedary simply nodded, secured her grip and leaped.  The rest of the herd followed, one by one.  Finally, all that were left was Robber, Overthrow and Tyranny.

Tyranny petulantly demanded, “I want a safety line in case this one breaks!”

Sang He called back derisively, “What?  You weigh over three tonnes?  The way that you eat, I could almost believe that!”

Sehang Shu grinned as she pointed out, “Even if your whole brain was igneous stone, and I am not sure that it is not, you would not weigh that much. Perhaps it is your fear that you cannot grip the rope properly?  It will not be a loss to us if you do fall!”

Robber had been watching how the other ponies and the dromedaries had wrapped the rope about their forelegs.  He grabbed Tyranny by the foreleg and cast two quick overlapping loops about it.  Tyranny was about to shake off the rope when Robber and Overthrow shoved him forcefully off the safety of stone.

Screaming, Tyranny swung out over the spikes at the pit’s bottom!

The whole herd stood back aloof and offered no assistance.  Daring Do and Jeremy caught his flailing hind legs and pulled Tyranny to safety.

Robber showed Overthrow how the loops were properly done.  With some trepidation, he swung across to safety, assisted in his landing by Daring Do and Jeremy.

As Robber made his swing, Sehang Shu led Kanya Ama in helping to catch him.  As she set him safely onto solid stone, Sehang Shu said, “You keep poor company but have earned our respect. YOU have welcome in our camp.”

Robber bowed the bow of an inferior to a person of importance and replied, “This one is most grateful for your respect.  I shall try to uphold your good opinion.”

Tyranny, looking back saw the impossible.  The causeway was fully intact again. He pointed and exclaimed, “We had no need of that deadly risk!  All we had to do was wait!”

Daring Do actually rolled on the stone, laughing.  When she got herself under control, she said, “It would have stayed down as long as we were there!  It is a trap operated by magic!”

Tyranny scoffed, “True magic dies with the pony that cast it!  This is thousands of years old!”

Wearing the most condescending expression possible, Sehang Shu crouched to his level to look Tyranny in the eye.  Patting him on the top of he head, she said, “Dung Beetle, trivial pony cast magic, it is true, dies with the pony.  This was cast by OUR ancestors.  It appears to have slipped your notice that WE ARE NOT PONIES.  Our magic WORKS.”

Chuckling, she turned her back on the fuming Tyranny.

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#DARING DO AND THE ADVENTURE OF THE X'IBIAN VASE #Part 19 of 21 #MLP Fan Fiction #Written by De Writer and Carmen Pondiego

[acerosu]

Day 4: Family

Oh here we go.

---------------

Yellow stood off to the side with her arms crossed. With nothing to do but wait, her mind wandered. She gave an unimpressed glare at the navigation screen as solar systems streamed by.

 “Why do we have to travel there again?”

 Blue sat in her control chair using only a fraction of her mental energy to guide her ship. Yellow’s had been too damaged in the life changing skirmish with White back on Homeworld.

 “There’s been an energy disturbance at the Moon base.” Blue glanced over, a calm smile on her face at the thought of getting to visit everyone again. “We are coming down to assist.”

 Yellow was staring at the floor. Her only answer was a grunt.

 “Your arm ship will be repaired soon, do not fret.” Blue reached out and patted the grumpy Diamond on the shoulder. “But for now, we have to share.”

 Knowing her cheeks betrayed her, Yellow turned away in hopes her blush was not caught by Blue.  “It’s not that. We are needed more on Homeworld, what with the shift in our entire society. Not to mention leaving White alone.”

 Blue gave a long exhale. “Trust her. She needs to grow into her own again.”

 Cold eyes narrowed.

 “We’re here.”

 Blue guided her ship down in a low arch. The surface of Earth’s moon was far from useful to the Empire so only a small control base had been built.

 “Pink.”

 Yellow waited for the emotions to push Blue into a crying session with her along for the ride. To her surprise, only a few tears were shed. Blue rose and walked over to the teleport pad to beam down the surface.

 “You guys made it!”

 Steven greeted them with a happy leap. At once Blue picked him up, eager to give a hug to her dearly missed Diamond. Yellow stayed in the background, arms crossed. Of course the rebels were also here, from the overcooked Amethyst to the fusion.

 “Hi.” She allowed them one word and a curt wave of her hand.

 Steven waved back. The other gems stood around with a nervous air. Still wary in the presence of a Diamond. So much for everything suddenly being fine and happy. While waiting for Blue to cease her full update on everything that had happened on Homeworld, Yellow let her gaze wander.

 Every surface had a fine coating of dust and shadow. Having not been used in centuries, the base was in poor repair and far too dirty for her liking. The old mosaics still stood untouched: murals of Pink and her armies and their grand deeds. Yellow closed her eyes, recalling all the frantic messages sent asking to spare the organics, the begging to change years of power and tradition. Her gaze fell on Steven and his wayward friends. If only she had listened. Maybe it wouldn’t have turned into this.

 “What do you think, Yellow?” Blue looked over with Steven in her hand. Both had a hopeful smile.

 “Hmm?” Her day dream interrupted, Yellow blinked a few times. “About what? The base? It’s in dreadful condition.”

 “Yes, and that is the problem.” Steven spoke up. Yellow had to admit even though Pink had changed so much, he still commanded the air and force of a Diamond. “There’s something deep underground putting off a bunch of energy. Garnet and Pearl fear it might explode.”

 “Ah, the geothermal reactors.” Yellow walked about the room, explaining. “This moon didn’t have sufficient power so we had a reactor installed to gather core heat.”

 Pink’s Pearl stepped forward. “I know that already. But what would cause it to be damaged like this?”

 A glare. Yet the Pearl did not flinch. Yellow sighed, knowing she still had a lot to get used to. “Age. Reactors are upgraded regularly as new technology is discovered. This one is old and still probably running on some kind of singularity. Unstable but useful.”

 “A singularity?” Pearl brought her hands up to her face. “Steven! We have to stop it now!”

 “Why?” Steven frowned. “How bad is it?”

 “If it blows up, whatever side of the Earth is facing the moon will be, um.” Pearl faltered, unable to speak any more.

 “We’ll stop it. Let’s go.” Garnet spoke up and led the team to a control panel on the far side of the room.

 Yellow and Blue followed after, exchanging looks. Though concerned about the loss of the base, Yellow still wondered why both Diamonds were needed for such a task.

 “Ok, this says that the reactor is cracked and unstable, but solid enough that we should be able to teleport in there and contain it. The radiation is mainly from heat and gamma rays.

 Steven tilted his head. “And that means?”

 Amethyst crossed her arms. “It means Gems ain’t affected. But organics are. It’s hot and zappy down there.”

 “Well put, Amethyst.” Pearl rolled her eyes and continued to bring up more information on the screen. “Steven, you can stay here while we enter the chamber. It looks like it shouldn’t take long. Garnet will stay and monitor our progress.”

 “And what about us?” Yellow was leaning down, reading each line of data as it was displayed. “We’re not exactly the maintenance crew, in case you didn’t notice.”

 “Yellow…” Blue shot a glare.

 Garnet let out a long sigh. “The radiation doesn’t harm gems but it will still make us lose form, and fast. You are Diamonds. Powerful and able to withstand what’s down there.”

 “Mmm.” Yellow nodded. This is why they kept reactors in top condition.

 “We will do all we can.” Blue answered, giving a reassuring pat to Steven before setting him down next to Garnet.

 Pearl left the monitoring program on the screen and headed toward the teleport pad with Amethyst. The Diamonds followed behind.

 “What is with you today?” Blue hissed a low whisper to Yellow. “This is Pink. This is Steven. We are here to help him.”

 A sigh. “And this is also a trivial manner. What’s next? He invites us to hang at the beach? We are Diamonds, Blue.”

 Blue frowned, halting her walk. “We are also family, Yellow.”

 With that, she stepped onto the pad and her form glowed, shifting her atoms down into the core. Yellow snorted, angry more at herself than Blue. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore.

 “Good luck, Yellow!” Steven cheered from the control panel.

 Yellow glanced over her shoulder before she too glowed and teleported. Heat rushed her as soon as she rematerialized. Already, Pearl and Amethyst were bracing against the leaking energy. Blue’s hair was whipping from the wind. Ahead, the main chamber stood in ruin. Metal and gemtech had been fused by the high temperatures and the control panels were ruined. At the center, a large, brightly growing crack spewed plasma from the heart of the reactor.

 “It’s worse than I thought, the sensors must be damaged.” Pearl shouted over the roar of the reactor.

 Amethyst took a few strained steps forward. “What do we do then?”

 Blue knelt down, trying to get a better look. “If this is old technology, we just need to contain the core. Yellow and I can do it with our bubbles.”

 Yellow met Blue’s eyes and they nodded in agreement.

 “Let me go first.” Yellow flinched from a blast of radiation. “I can get close and you can finish the containment.”

 They walked forward, barely affected by the stark conditions. Pearl and Amethyst clung to a far wall, eyes peering through the heat as they watched. Yellow reached the crack and held out a hand. Energy pulsed between her fingers, pushing back against the core. Gradually it spread out, enveloping the glowing mass. Blue stood behind her, ready to add to the containment bubble.

 With an ear splitting crack, the core breached further. More splits glowed and threw out heat as molten metal dropped from the ceiling. It sizzled off Yellow’s shoulder pad, the new wave of energy causing her focus to wane for a moment. She focused, keeping herself still while channeling force through her hand. It was too late. Blue tried to supplement the bubble but it easily broke from the stronger radiation.

 “It’s too much! We need to pull back.” Yellow shouted over the din.

 Blue stopped besides her. “No! We can do this, just focus together.”

 “Blue, this moon is done for! We need more power.”

 Pearl and Amethyst’s gems clicked on the ground, their forms already lost.

 “We have to help them!” Steven looked wide-eyed at the screen miles above, seeing the energy grow so high it was off the charts.

 “No. The radiation would render me useless. And you are part organic.” Garnet gave a solemn bow of her head. “The Diamonds will bring them back up.”

 “I don’t care!” Steven jumped off the platform and ran toward the teleport pad. “They need me!”

 Garnet rushed forward, but was too late. The pad flashed and Steven was gone. “Steven! No!”

 The reactor chamber was in chaos. Walls had now melted way to solid rock as the moon was being burned away from the inside. Steven felt his skin fry and immediately summoned his shield. It held fast against the growing rage of energy.

 “Steven?” Blue had been blasted back against the side wall, right behind the teleport pad. “What are you doing?”

 “We have to get out of here!” Yellow struggled to fight against the radiation. She made her way towards Blue and tried to support her. Another jolt as the chamber cracked further. “Can you stand?”

 “Yellow! Steven teleported down! We have to help him!”

 “There’s no time! We’ll gather his gem on the way out!”

 Steven was slowly making his way toward the reactor core, stopping only to pick up Pearl and Amethyst. With them safe in his pockets, he pushed closer toward the blinding light. The glowing shield in front of him began to flicker as he forced every step.

 Blue’s eyes went wide. She lunged forward, only to be pushed back by another wave of energy. “He’s part organic! He won’t just lose form, he will die!”

 Yellow shook her head. “He’s also half Diamond! He’ll be fine.”

 “Earth will be roasted by a wave of radiation!” Blue struggled to reach Steven again. Now on her hands and knees, she crawled forward. “Pink’s Planet! Steven’s home!”

 Yellow reached out and grabbed onto Blue. “There’s nothing we can do!”

 Blue pushed Yellow’s hold away, turning to glance over her shoulder. Her eyes were focused and glowing. “Yes there is.”

 She moved forward, each new meter an agony. Yellow at last realized her plan.

 “NO! Blue, you can’t! Not even a Diamond can-“ Her plea was interrupted by another powerful wave of energy.

 Blue reached Steven at last and contained him in a bubble, shield and all. With a last turn back, she gently tossed him to Yellow.

 “He’s family, Yellow. I have to.”

 Yellow’s eyes were filled with tears. They dissolved away as soon as she shed them, steaming into mist in the heat. Holding the protected Steven, she met Blue’s determined gaze on last time. “So are you.”

 The teleport pad glowed at Yellow’s command, taking both her and Steven to safety.

 “What happened?!” Steven’s yells were muffled by the bubble. “What’s Blue doing?”

 Without a word, Yellow set the bubble down and released Steven. She stared at the floor, shoulders drooped.

 “Yellow! We have to go back for Blue! Yellow?”

 Garnet stood silent as well, watching the Diamond give a long exhale.

 “We have to get to Blue’s ship. We’ll all be safe from the implosion in orbit.”

 “What? But Blue-“

 “Steven.” Garnet took his hand. “Follow Yellow to the ship.”

 They made their way to the arm ship with only Yellow’s steady footsteps breaking the silence. She sat in the control chair were Blue had just been. It still felt warm. Raising a hand, she forced the engines to accept her input. With reluctance the arm rose and took a position outside of the Moon’s gravity.

 From the view screen, the damage was apparent. Slits of light shown through the dusty surface as ridges and craters crumbled from quakes. For a moment, the Moon glowed, its entire form engulfed in a hot stream of plasma. But as soon as the explosion began, it fell in on itself, collapsing until a fraction of the size. Only a small fire roared out at the end, sending shockwaves through the ship that quickly dissipated. Nothing but a flash of light hit the Earth.

 “It didn’t blow up? Well it did I mean.” Steven stared at the small bits of debris that was once the Moon. He turned to Yellow, gaze dire. “What happened?”

 Yellow raised a hand to her face, unable to watch the aftermath. “She gave her form, all her energy to contain the blast. There was no damage, other than the loss of the planet’s satellite.” She leaned back in her chair, staring at the screen but not seeing anything displayed there. “We can construct a new moon for Earth so your tidal patterns are not interrupted. Don’t worry.”

 Steven nodded, barely able to think let alone speak. Though he realized what had happened, his mind refused to fall into the same hole Yellow’s was now in.

 “But she’s a Diamond. So Blue is-“

 “Gem form detected in the rubble.” Garnet had been checking the consoles in the background, making sure there had been no damage to Earth. “On screen.”

 Floating in the center of view was a pale Blue Diamond. It rotated among left over Moon rocks, the surface dull with a slight crack along the one side.

 Yellow stood up. “Activate teleporter! Get her onboard this instant!”

 She forced she ship closer as the teleporter did its job. Her footsteps thundered as she ran over, picking the gem up gently in her gloved hands.

 “Blue.” Eyes closing, she pressed the gem against her forehead. “Why did you have to go and do that?”

 “Is she alright?” Steven ran up. “Can she reform?”

 “It will take years.” Yellow mumbled, gently stroking the gem while at the same time being wary to avoid the crack. “And she’d been damaged.”

 Yellowed sighed, not wanting to let her tears flow just now. How would she go on into Era 3 without Blue? The Empire needed strong leadership, the touch of all the Diamonds to lead them. And she needed her too, for other, equally important reasons.

 “I can fix that!” Steven grinned up, holding out his hand in solidarity.

 Yellow looked down, confused. “W-what?”

 “I have Pink’s healing powers. Well, it’s in my spit. But I can give it a go and see what happens!”

 Yellow had barely remembered. Without a second thought, she handed over the precious gem, setting it down next to Steven. Her face still hung in dire loss, albeit now with a glint of hope in her eyes.

 “Woah, Forgot how big you guys are.” Steven eyed the crack. It wasn’t too deep, but was still far larger than the small one he had fixed for Lapis. He licked his hand. “Here we go!”

 It took a few applications of saliva to cover the entire crack, but Steven managed it fast. He stood back, waiting beside Yellow in anticipation. After what felt like a century, Yellow watched the dulled azure surface begin to shimmer, the color returning. Then the crack glowed, fusing back together and leaving the Diamond a glittering reprisal of its former beauty, intact and flawless.

 “It worked!” Steven beamed.

 Yellow reached out, hoping she was not imagining the repair she had just witnessed right before her eyes. Blue’s gem sat perfect. She traced her fingers over the facets and managed a smile. It grew along with her tears. They dripped down on Steven in pure happiness.

 “Thank you! Thank you so much!” Yellow took both Blue’s gem and Steven in her arms and hugged them to her chest. After a moment she returned to her normal passive coldness, but with a new ray of warmth on her face.

 “Not a problem! I’m glad she’s ok.” Steven touched the gem. “Will it still take a while for her to reform?”

 Yellow shook her head, whipping a tear from her cheek. “Unsure. I guess I’ll just have to wait.”

 “Well. Thanks for the help with the Moon.” Steven looked around the ship. “I guess you’ll be getting back to Homeworld?”

 Yellow stood holding Blue and Steven, the hum of the ship in the background. The gem in her hand felt warm to the touch after healing. She hadn’t seen it before – from the expression on Blue’s face, the tears shed for Pink, the moment they fought in Yellow’s room back on Homeworld. Yet there it was as clear as a star in the sky. They were all connected; from the misshapen gems to the fusions to the rock they stood on. Be it a fleck of mica or a grand Diamond, it did not matter. Yellow knelt down, setting Steven back on the ground.

 “No. We’ll be staying here.” She smiled, holding Blue’s gem against her chest. “With Family.”

 Steven smiled back. So did Garnet.

#bellowdiamondweek #bellow diamond #yellow diamond #blue diamond #cause we also need angst

[vlogsquadlibrary]

Greatest Adventure - d.d x n.m

He was pacing back and forth on the rooftop , shoulders hunched over, wiping his hands on his pants every two minutes, anxious about what was about to happen.  Jason was peeking around the door watching his best friend freak out. He couldn’t believe that his best friend was about to propose to the love of his life. 

David had told Natalie to meet them at this restaurant in downtown Los Angeles, the same place he had his surprise birthday party, for their second anniversary dinner. The room was decorated in white lights hanging from the ceiling, vases of red roses , and rose petals on the floor. He was dressed in black slacks,a solid white dress shirt, and black dress shoes. He had his hair cut and styled for the occasion.  He pulled out a Tiffany blue box from his slacks, opened it up and stared at the diamond ring. “ Do you think that she will say yes, Jason? “ 

Jason stepped in shutting the door.” You know, that girl loves you so much. I believe she will say yes. “ Erin knocked on the door letting them know that Natalie was there. He quickly shut the box and returned it to his pocket. “I guess it’s showtime. “ Jason set up his camera and quietly escaped the room allowing Natalie to go in. 

Natalie stepped in the room wearing a gorgeous red lace dress and black heels. She glanced around the room  in awe until she spotted David standing off to the side. She walked up to him, throwing her arms around his neck” David, it’s so beautiful. You didn’t have to go to all this trouble. “

“ I know but I love you a lot. “ He kissed her gently. Once they parted he took a shaky breath reaching into his pocket to grab the box. Kneeling down in front of her ,  he opened the box “ Natalie , you have been my best friend since we were children. You’ve supported me since I started making vines and then once I moved to Youtube. You came all the way from Vernon Hills to be my assistant and you put up with my shit and didn’t once quit. You saw me when I got my heart broke and somehow you mended it and I fell in love with you along the way. You have been the greatest support system and the best girlfriend ever. I love you with all my heart. You’ve been my greatest adventure .Will you please do me the honor of marrying me?” 

“Are you fucking serious David?!” Natalie’s hands flew to her mouth in complete shock at David’s speech. “Yes! A thousand times yes!”

She leaned over and threw her arms around him kissing him. He stood up and put the ring on her finger. “I love you David Dobrik”

“And I love you Natalie Mariduena”

#david dborik #david dobrik x natalie mariduena #david x natalie #david dobrik x natalie #david x natalie mariduena #natalie mariduena #david dobrik x natalie mariduena imagine #david dobrik x natalie mariduena fanfiction #david dobrik imagine #david dobrik fanfiction

[starfaring-princelotor]

First Sight

Summary: It has been a year since Emperor Lotor’s disappearance. The Medic has been trying to survive.

★ Disclaimer: I do not ship Lotura and I respectfully ask that this story to not be tagged as Lotura. This is a Lotor x Reader/Self-Insert OC story which is in no way related to Allura at all. Please be respectful of my chosen pairing. ★

Warnings: Blood, light gore, mentions of death.

A/N: Wow, in this blessed year of 2019, I still hate S8 with a burning passion.

Also, a special thank you to @legendofcarl and @fairy-cat-mother for beta reading this long chapter!

Touch Series: Part One___Part Two___Part Three___Part Four___Part Five

Taste Series: Part One___Part Two___Part Three___Part Four___Part Five

Sight Series: Part One ___Part Two___Part Three___Part Four

“Captain Shirogane. Whittaker didn’t make it.”

Another soul lost, another day of war continued. The captain’s back was towards you, but his face was watching the sun rise over the silent, desolate hills. He has been standing guard for most of the night and you took note of this one important detail. Even a captain needed rest, even a doctor needed to put the scalpel down once in a while. Shiro sighed heavily then turned towards you, his expression stoic like a hardened soldier but eyes...his eyes told you everything.

“You stayed with him?” he asked, avoiding the red dotting your coat.

“Until his last breath.”

“They don’t teach you about that in training.”

“No, sir. No, they...they do not,” you crossed your arms, “I don’t think that it is possible to teach something like this, Captain.”

A pregnant pause, a few seconds of Shiro’s gaze studying the restless sunken sockets on your face.

“Takashi. I told you to call me Takashi. We’re well acquainted enough by now. It’s been what? A year since I pulled you out of that ditch?”

“A year and 3 days, exactly,” you cautioned a step closer, heart hurting and hands dirtied with blood, “We make it out of here alive and I’ll start listening to you, friend.”

As a friend. As a comrade. As a pair of fractured misfits trying to cozy up in society again like the war overseas didn’t already kill their souls. We can’t leave this behind us, no matter how many bullets we take. We can’t die, but we can’t live like nothing happened. We can’t be doctor and captain, yet we can’t remember who we really were before all of this. The idea that we made it would be enough for us. It would be enough.

There was a red dot between his brows.

BANG!

BANG!

Jolting from your sleep never felt so real before. You swore, you were back in the barracks with your nerves and hackles raised in defense at...nothing. It was just a dream. A memory, a time that you would have preferred rather than now. Another loud bang made you clutch the scratchy blanket tighter to your chest, moth eaten and too thin to really keep you warm in the cold cell.

The lights flicked on, revealing you and the rest of the prisoners huddled together. Mere foot soldiers to flight fighters to ion cannon engineers from Lotor’s ship. Hostages to Haggar’s will and interrogation. Zarkon’s witch. No, you recall that those who were summoned never once returned. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what happened to them.

“You.” Sendak’s voice alone had you cringing from the sheer resolution behind it, “Your trial has come.”

You narrowed your eyes at him like a mouse trapped in a corner with other scared, meek beings. And they were right to be afraid. By all technicality, you and the Galra under his ward were the last to see Emperor Lotor alive. You specifically saw him leave and you knew this very fact would be held against your case.

When you made no movement, only to delay the inevitable, he approached you with a condescending look, “Come of your own free will or High Priestess Haggar will come here instead.”

He really didn’t like humans. Small, frail, weak. Emotional. And that bite mark on your neck signifying more than you were aware of? Sendak almost sneered at you. Almost.

You stood up and allowed yourself to be cuffed without a fuss. No word, no flinch, not even bothering to meet his challenging gaze. Your eyes were on the ground, trying to calculate how you could use your words and turn the evidence to be on your side. The side that won’t end up with your corpse launched into the vacuum of deep space. Each step down the hall felt as if you were walking to your own death.

The door opened, but this was no court. That was a medical table, those were physical restraints hanging down from the ceiling, and there, standing under the halo of light, was Haggar. This was the first time you saw her.

“State your name.”

You gave it with a bitter taste on your tongue.

“You are hereby being charged with the complicit assassination of the Emperor of the Galra Empire - Emperor Lotor,” she announced, voice throaty yet evident of her power, “We have recorded evidence that you willingly allowed Emperor Lotor to return to the hands of Voltron alongside with his generals. How do you plead?”

How do you plead? What a loaded question. They already had solid evidence against you. Now they just wanted to hear you say it. Hear you say you were guilty. You let him go. In doing so, you unwittingly forfeited your own safety to the fates of Galra Court. Or rather, whoever was next in charge. Whoever was left after the Empire became fractured in civil war.

You trusted Lotor to return. It has been nearly a year. The odds were stacked against him, against you, that either would be staying alive for long.

“Guilty. I plead guilty.”

Honerva narrowed her eyes into thin slits, critically studying your surrendering form. You gave in without her taking what she needed from your mind. You were compliant, too compliant, and yet this fact alone showed her one thing: you were smart. You knew how their system worked and you knew what unfortunate side you were on. Now, only one thing remained.

The crime must fit the punishment. Victory or death, right?

“You are hereby sentenced to a lifetime in prison without parole.” Haggar glanced at Sendak, “Take the inmate away.”

“I know where Lotor is.”

Lie. She knew it was a lie, indicative by the way the corner of her lips dipped lower in a barely contained snarl. Prisoners would say anything to change the outcome of their fate, and Honerva was not one for mercy - not where her rightful son was concerned And yet, those five little words were the perfect ones to make her raise a hand, halting Commander Sendak.

“I know where the Emperor is.”

The thin paper in your hand felt heavier than anything you’ve ever carried before in your life. Your eyes skimmed over familiar writing - your father's words etched out in dark ink, but not nearly as dark as the shadows growing in the corner of your mind.  Prisoners were becoming soldiers. Ultimatums were set and no matter how much you begged your father to change his mind, begged for him to understand that he was being used, he still made the worst possible choice.

It’s funny, now that you think about it. He once told you that he wanted to be a soldier when he was younger. To make sure there was a future for children, for you. Now, he got his wish. But it shouldn’t be like this, never like this.

The tears blurred your sight before you were able to take a hold of yourself. And how could you? Your father, the only family who saw you as a person instead of a physical investment for others, was walking onto the battlefield as live bait. Helpless couldn’t even begin to describe the fateful situation thrust upon your shoulders and a fleeting thought that karma was out to get you passed through your mind. This was wrong. This was wrong and everyone knew it.

Your grip on the paper crinkled it, nearly tearing it where your fingers dug in. Sobbing, you were sobbing so much, chest constricting as the thoughts of being powerless attacked your mind. It’s a system. There’s a system, maybe you could talk to someone, talk to the higher ups about switching camps? Just don’t panic. Your father will be fine, you can save him still. Maybe there was still time to -

“Doc?”

It was Shiro.

“Doc!”

The sight of you crying, choking on your own tears and leaning on the the wall for support, instantly alerted your captain. He has seen you post breakdown, eyes red-rimmed and composure regained like nothing had happened. But this? This was worse. It was worse seeing you crumble to the ground with teeth gritting, lip quivering, and streaks of painful tears dripping down your face. The stuttering breaths, the whimpering, the breaking. It. Was. Much. Worse.

Shiro rushed to you, arms pulling you in to his chest, “Talk to me.”

You couldn’t.

“Please, say something.”

You didn’t.

“We can get through this.”

You can’t.

All you could do was weep for what was to come.

“I worked alongside Emperor Lotor as his private medical officer for the last four years. From his time as a prisoner in Voltron’s hold up until his disappearance, every injury and sickness I assessed are logged in the medical database at the Galra Headquarters.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“I know where he was going.”

Honerva was never one to be impatient. She was calculating, much more than Zarkon ever was. It was how she survived this long, through being poisoned by quintessence, mourning her husband’s death, and withstanding the Empire’s eternal disgust with her. But she also knew when the floor was shrinking around her and soon, her conniving ways would end up with her dead.

She needed allies to find her son and right now? You were as good as any. The witch can torture the information out of you to get what she needed, but logically that wasn’t the most efficient choice. Space was huge, there was a gamble that the your words would lead to a firm dead end, but Honerva was on borrowed time to search for her only child. Limited on necessary resources. Those under her command were spread thin.

“Emperor Lotor managed to pierce the Rift. He succeeded in starting to supply the Empire and the rest of the universe with unlimited quintessence, but there were...complications.” You took a deep breath, “I am already sentenced to a lifetime in prison, but I guarantee you, I’m more useful alive than dying in a cell wall.”

Yes, this seemed almost too perfect to Honerva, but the more the doctor spoke, the more this plan made sense. If - when they find her son, he would no doubt be in critical condition after all this time. Even if he wasn’t, having a medical team attend to him immediately would ensure his survival. Time was wasting, she couldn't assign another druid to read the entirety of Lotor’s medical history when there was someone who already knew it standing right in front of her.

“You will be under Commander Mar’s ward and accompany him on his search for Emperor Lotor,” she approached you then, closer for intimidation, “You are to report any and all information you gain during your mission directly to me. Emperor Lotor must be found.”

Yes, his Empire needed him. The universe needed him to continue working for an era of peace and prosperity. Right now, with the warlords loose and slavery still persisting, you knew all of this would eventually end up in total and complete destruction. You were not excluded from such a fate. Even though you had options, you could run, you could hide, you could corner yourself, but how long until you perish by conflict or by choice?

That is how you found yourself here, standing on the bridge besides Commander Mar. He accepted his mission with honor, accepted your partnership, however temporary it may be. The Commander was no fool, none of the higher-ups were. While some sought power for themselves, the Galra understood power was not only for security, but for survival as well.

He turned to face you, that sullen, empty look reminding him of a tired soldier who fought too long, “Doctor, do we have a heading?”

You stayed silent for a moment before raising your sunken eyes to focus on his scarred expression,   “To the remnants of Daibazaal, Commander Mar. The trans-reality gate is there and that is the last place Voltron was located. That is where Emperor Lotor traveled to.”

He nodded to his subordinate who punched in the coordinates. A few jumps through hyperspace and they would arrive in less than two weeks. Two weeks for you to prepare either the worst or the best outcome. Two weeks for you to plan an escape and flee for your own good. Two weeks…

Before he turned to leave, you asked, “Commander Mar, can I speak to you in private?”

The taller Galra grunted, granting your wish, then led you into the hallway just outside the command center, “What is it, Doctor? You have time to gather supplies we have on the ship, if needed.”

“I appreciate the generosity, Commander. But…” you crossed your arms, “If I may ask, why did you accept this mission?”

“You question my loyalty to the Empire?”

“No, no, not at all. I...apologize for my disrespect.” You glanced to the floor, debating in that mind of yours, “I am not blind. I’m aware of the fractured state the Empire has been in since Lotor’s crowning at the Kral Zera.”

“A human knows of the Kral Zera?”

“While he was working alongside Voltron, yes, Lotor informed me of the Kral Zera.”

His eyes narrowed to slits, “And your team was the one who killed Emperor Zarkon.”

“Yes. Yes, we did. My captain and I gave Lotor the tools needed to take down Zarkon.”

You expected disgust, even fury or an attack, yet all you received was a calculating look from Commander Mar. He had his own thoughts about Voltron working with the Empire and how it was run. At the same time, he had his own grievances when it came to working under Zarkon, as well.

“Voltron has been a smear on the Empire. Now that they have killed not one, but two Emperors, I swear to never align with them again,” there was a certain conviction in his voice, one that held truth with hidden malice, “I am loyal to the Empire and the Empire alone. That is why I took this mission because Lotor is the Emperor. Retrieving his body will bring closure to those in charge and we may finally proceed with another Kral Zera ceremony.”

“And if there is no body? How long will the Empire stand on it’s own two feet? How long until he is officially announced deceased?”

“Five years.”

The Empire did not have five years to last. No leader, no one taking charge until either five years pass or a dead body arrives. The system can only hold as long as the council would allow it, but even that was in shambles. Options were becoming more and more limited. Even after five years, if Lotor comes back, there won't be an Empire for him to run.

“Why did the witch let you live?”

No more. No more standing aside. Lotor made you choose.

“Because I am loyal to the Emperor. And right now, his return means more than just ensuring the future of the Galra Empire. His return ensures the end of war.”

You were tired. Exhausted, like the life was drained out of every pore of your body. You didn’t want to do this anymore. Now, you wonder what drove you to do it in the first place. Be a medic for war. Be a healer. Battle death on a daily basis. Was it for money? For financial security? Or just to prove you were good? Save those who couldn't save themselves? Either way, you couldn’t handle it anymore. Not now. Not for a while or never, if you decide to put the white coat back on again.

“Where will you go?”

Zipping your backpack shut, you placed both hands flat on top of the table. It was the only support you had from collapsing into another painful cry, mourning for the death of your father. No headstone. No body. Hard to find a body when a bomb is dropped. Your eyes drifted up to see Shiro, your captain, your friend, the one who held you so the dark promise of grief didn't get a chance to consume you whole.

“I don’t know.”

“Will you be back?”

“I was discharged. I'm not coming back,” you spoke, emphasizing your dismissal.

“The war is over. Treaties were signed, now we’re just working on bringing soldiers back to their home. Are you sure - “

“Find another medic.”

He paused.

“Find another medic. I’m not doing this - ” your weary voice, once strong and dignified, now whispered, “I can’t do this.

Shiro’s silence spoke volumes, but nothing meant more to you than when he approached you with a soft, understanding gaze. He picked up your bag, the weight more unbearable than he could imagine, before gently handing it to you. And you took it. You took this burden, but he never wanted you to feel like you had to deal with it alone.

“I understand,” he pulled you in for a hug, “Take care of yourself out there. And if you need anything…”

You returned the hug, needing this more than you realized, “I’m sorry, Takashi.”

“Don’t apologize. Never apologize for anything, least of all this. Take your time. You deserve that much.”

You needed time to heal. And before you left through the tent, you turned to look back at  your dearest friend once more.

“Come find me after you’re back.”

“Cease fire! Cease fire! I surrender!”

You huddled behind your shield, barely large enough to defend yourself. Commander Mar was dead, as was most of his crew, and standing across from the battlefield were three people you didn't expect to see again. Three people who left with the Emperor on that fateful day months ago. All of them were equally wounded, exhausted, and still raging with the fiery spirit of battle.

“Zethrid!” Ezor’s pained scream echoed the hangar, gaining her ally’s full attention.

Immediately, the behemoth Galra rushed to her aid, hands out and unsure exactly how to help her friend. There was blood profusely gushing from Ezor’s thigh, entire leg now missing due to the recent battle. Axes were weapons not to be underestimated, a lesson she will ingrain in her mind well if she survived after this. Zethrid snarled as her thoughts became conflicted with worry, with hatred, with the burning will to seek revenge.

“Kill them! Kill them all!” she ordered Acxa, “Do it, now!”

Acxa’s options were limited, too. They always were in the heat of battle. Yes, the three of them managed to take down Commander Mar and his warriors, sans you. She was smart. She knew to leave the medic the last one standing because medics had moral obligations to their crew. You were no Galra doctor, you were human. Humans were susceptible to being compassionate.

“What are you waiting for? We have to get Ezor out of here!”

Take the fleet, hide in the deepest part of the galaxy, find someone who could aid Ezor, but...but she may not have the time. She may not survive. In her critical condition, none of them knew how to properly handle decapitated limbs, and the chances of living after such a fatal blow was already haunting the general. Acxa saw your gaze flicker to their wounded companion then back to her own steely glare.

“I can help her.”

Acxa gripped her gun tighter, barrel pointing directly at you as she pressed the lightest of pressure on the trigger.

“I can save her. You kill me now, she dies. It takes nearly three days to find the nearest planet. She doesn’t even have 30 minutes to live.”

Desperation. Acxa hated feeling desperate. All of them did. Hated leaving the fate of others in the hands of unknown, hated feeling powerless in the face of danger when their friends were concerned. Hated trusting Lotor to protect them and guide them like a good leader. You were on Lotor’s side, but he wasn’t here.

Acxa lowered her gun, signalling her consent for your aid, then you rushed to Ezor’s side while pulling out a syringe. It had an ominous, black liquid in it. You would never consider using this on her, but she was going to die, and the Witigue drug has been proven to bring back those on the brink of death.

You tugged the rope to pull your dingy into port. The wooden pier was nearly desolate of life except the spare few locals. All who initially hesitated at the mere sight of you, but took you in regardless, granting you a place to live among their home. Clear blue waters with equally clear blue skies. It was paradise, the place your father was born, far away from the city life and all it’s deadly toxicity.

No, not really toxic. Just the politics. Just the corruption.

“A fisherman, huh? Never took you for a fishing type.”

At that voice, that one voice you knew so well, your head shot up to see those familiar mirthful grey eyes staring straight at you. And that smirk, that smile that told you everything will be okay, everything is okay. It was infectious, incredibly infectious. You felt your lips and your heart smile at the mere sight of Shiro. He was here, your friend, he was really here.

“Captain - “ “Takashi. Don’t think I forgot that promise.”

You jumped off your boat and stumbled in front of him. His eyes took in all of you, from your humidified hair to your toes fitted in flip-flops. You looked healthy enough if that small laugh after his comment was anything to go by. Not even a second passed before he embraced you in his comforting arms, your own winding around his midsection in a tight hold.

“Takashi! What in blue blazes are you doing here? How did you even - “ you shook your head then took a step back, grinning at him with honest joy splashed over your face, “It’s good to see you, my friend.”

“Thought I’d travel a bit, check in on you. I have to say, you picked a nice place to hide.”

You scoffed at the situational convenience of it all, knowing damn well he used some resource to seek you out. But he wasn’t wrong. This was a nice place to recover and, although you will never fully heal from the scars that the war left behind, you could say your body felt...better. Your mind, however, was a different thing altogether.

“It's a humble life, y’know. Fishing, selling, adapting to a new place. How about you? Where have you been living at now?”

“The Galaxy Garrison called me a year ago and I’ve been working on becoming a space explorer,” he saw the way your eyes lit up at that, “And sometimes I go to local schools to inspire young minds.”

“A space explorer, hm? What do you think you’ll find out there?”

“Honestly? I don't know. Guess I’ll find it when I go up there.”

You two chuckled at that, the familiar conversation refreshing you like time itself hadn’t even passed since the war. He was still Shiro, and you were still...you were still you. He had a good thing going for him and hearing the excitement in his voice when he spoke about it, well, it left you feeling elated for your friend.

“It really is good to see you again, Takashi. How long are you in town? No friend of mine is going to stay in a hotel when he can stay with me in my straw hut.”

Shiro would love nothing more than to stay and catch up on the recovering years. Share thoughts, share pains, share funny stories that happened while both of you were away from each other. But the twinge in his right hand, the tingling feeling in his fingertips, reminded him of the real reason why he was here.

“I’ll take you up on that hut for a few days. I’ve got to head back by the end of the week,” he explained before his expression slowly became solemn, “There’s...there’s something else, too.”

“Something else?” you asked, now your brows were knit in confusion, in wariness, “Something...good, I hope?”

Shiro sighed before pulling his right hand out of his pocket. At first, you saw nothing out of the ordinary. Then, a twitch, followed shortly by a few uneven shakes, like he was shivering. That was all you needed to see before your wide eyes shot up to stare at him dead in the face. He couldn't possibly -

“I knew you’d hate me if I never told you - ” Shiro took a deep breath, steeling his nerves, “ - I’m sick. It’s...incurable.”

You dabbed a cloth over Zethrid’s eye to stop the bleeding and, to your surprise, she didn't even flinch. Her gaze was stuck on Ezor, her stump bandaged and her breathing stable, but she couldn’t bring herself to find a smidgen of relief. Even with you tending to her wounds, there were internal pains that you could not heal. That was out of your skill range. To comfort a victim of survivor’s guilt.

You grabbed a different cloth and soaked it in a blue liquid, squeezing out the excess medicine, “Keep this over your eye. I can’t save your sight, but this will soothe it and prevent infection until you are fully healed.”

Zethrid obeyed. Still numb, still in shock that you had actually managed to save Ezor. Deciding to leave the room so they could have a moment of silence, you saw Acxa follow you into the hallway. The crew that were still alive were tossed into holding cells and the only people controlling the ship were the three women before you. Acxa watched the way you dried your hands on a towel before you stuffed it back into your pocket.

“Who sent you?” she asked, straightforward and still hesitant on why you were helping them.

You don’t blame her. You would be just as suspicious.

“Haggar. She has sent fleets out in search of Emperor Lotor. I can only assume she wants him back so she can have another puppet to control on the throne.”

And you were not going to let that happen, but there was a sign of confusion flickering behind Acxa’s eyes at your statement. A bit of disbelief, as well. Though, she understands that if she and her generals returned to Haggar, things will not end up well for them. They would be tortured for days on end, or worse, killed. Not a fate she would allow to fall on Ezor and Zethrid.

“Lotor is dead and so is Voltron. Both of them disappeared into the Rift and have not returned after all this time. There is no Emperor anymore.”

“That’s...impossible. Both of them?” you repeated just to make sure the reality of the situation wasn't a lie, “Are you sure? How could you be sure?”

Both of the universe’s defenders were gone? No...no, no, this was worse. This was going to end terribly, not just for you, but for everyone. A thousand scenarios flashed through your head, already thinking about what will happen now. Not just after five years, but the entire future that would be left in ruins.

“We were stranded for a year with no sight of them. They aren’t coming back,” her eyes focused intensely on you, “And I’m not risking our lives by returning to Haggar.”

Ah. The thinly veiled threat.

“We have to find both of them. If not them, then Lotor. Only he could restore the Empire - “

“It is over. Lotor swore to wipe out the entire Galra Empire. All three of us heard it with our own ears,” her expression hardened in betrayal, “Even if he did return by some small miracle, I would not ally with him again. You’re on the wrong side here.”

You ran a hand through your hair, “And what side are you on?”

“Whatever side protects my crew.”

And now, what side were you on?

Part of you argued that there was no happy ending if you returned to Haggar empty handed. Part of you argued that your continued search would be fruitless now that Acxa explained both Lotor and Voltron were finished. And another part...another part of you argued to find another way. Don’t run, there has to be another way, there’s always another way. And if not? You MAKE your own way.

“Acxa,” you interrupted her thoughts, “Do you know where the Alteans are?”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, “You still look to bring him back? He isn’t right for the Empire.”

“Do you or do you not know?”

Silence. After a scrutinizing minute, a single nod.

And that small bit of hope was enough for you to keep trying to find the rightful ruler of the Galra Empire.

“Take me there. Do this, then we can part ways and you’ll never have to see me again.”

Then, Acxa added, “And you never tell Lotor about our survival, if you find him.”

“There was an interesting kid I met today,” Shiro spoke after swallowing his spoonful of cafeteria food.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. He stole my car.”

Shiro always had a weird sense of humor, but it was humor nonetheless. You slowly raised a brow at him, of course expecting him to expand a bit on his story now that he had you hooked. Maybe you should have joined him today, just to get a breath of fresh air and see some new, young faces.

“Well?”

“Hm?” he asked, knowing damn well what you were asking.

“Takashi, you wouldn’t even let me drive that thing. It’s your ‘baby’ and you let an actual baby steal it from underneath your nose?”

Now, he laughed out loud, “Listen, I’m impressed he didn’t crash and injure himself.”

“What’s the little thief’s name?”

“Keith. Keith Kogane,” another scoop of food, “If he joins, I’m going to be his guardian.”

A guardian, huh? Fitting, you suppose, for someone like him. Shiro seemed proud, encouraged even, and a little bit of his light shined on you. Even with his illness, he had more moments of happiness than impending doom. You respected that about him. Part of you wondered if you, too, would one day be rid of your own personal grief.

The Galra ship landed on the docking station, kicking up dust and debris from all around. Acxa’s code given to enter the base went through, but you knew that Lotor was one to have at least two means of security. You knew he wouldn’t put all his trust in one person. He always had a back up plan somewhere, somehow, and years of living as an exiled Prince no doubt ingrained that in him.

Three. There were three Alteans who approached you and Acxa when crossing to the entrance of the mountain. Each of them were equipped with a shield much like your own and a broadsword, one you recall Lotor training with long ago. Shields up, weapons prepared, it put Acxa on edge. It put you on edge, so much so that you summoned your own shield for protection.

“Who are you?”

“How did you find this place?” “Where is Lotor?”

You studied each of them, taking in their marks, their hair, their skin. Warriors, defenders. These were the protectors of the base. It...it was a true sight to behold. Lotor succeeded. He achieved in saving Alteans from extinction, something everyone doubted was even possible considering Zarkon’s wickedness. He saved a part of his history, his culture, when no one else could have. 

He succeeded where the Princess failed.

“We do not wish to fight,” you announced, hoping they obeyed the diplomacy first rule, “I - We need your help. Lotor needs your help.”

At Lotor’s name, they immediately lowered their guard as a grave expression fell upon their faces.

“You have news of Lotor’s disappearance?” one of the men asked as he stepped forward, “Where is our leader? Has...Has he been captured?”

The other two murmured under their breath, dreading the worst. Of course they knew about the Galra Empire. Of course they knew of Zarkon. Of course they knew of the exiled Prince. And of course they knew the danger he was in, they all were in. If their leader was caught, then they would do what they must to ensure his survival. They were not idiots sitting around with twiddling thumbs. 

They know damn well about the war.

Now, your lowered the shield completely, your own face grim at the news you were about to share, “Lotor is missing. I need your help finding him.”

“Captain, how do we know they are not spies? I’ve never seen that one with Lotor before,” the other soldier asked, hinting at Acxa.

“We are not spies. I am a medic that aided in healing Lotor and she is - “ you paused, unsure of the actual relationship between Acxa and Lotor, “She was part of his...crew. What can I do to prove it to you?”

The leader of the trio’s stare bore into your shield. The shape of it was the same and the stance you held was similar to their own. Their battle culture was once lost to time, generations of hiding and fleeing reduced their numbers, and the knowledge was wiped out. Lotor was the one who retaught it to them. Only Lotor knew about them.

“If you aren’t a spy, then you will need to prove it through combat.”

There was a soft knock at your door, followed by a “Hey, it’s me.”

“Me” being Shiro. Of course you let him in your room. It was impeccably clean and equally as bland save for one memento. A picture: old, wrinkled, the edges torn and frayed—showing how long it has stood against the test of time. It was you and Shiro in your old military outfits. Typical soldier uniform for him and a white medic coat for you. Dirtied cheeks and tired eyes, but both of you were smiling. Hopeful for the future.

“Ready for tomorrow’s launch?”

“Are you?”

“Waited all my life for this moment,” he sat on the edge of your bed, elbows on his knees and hands entwined with each other, “I wanted to thank you...again. For coming with us. For all this.”

“You know, the more I thought about it, the more I’m surprised I am even...here. It’s hard to believe, actually. I’m a pilot. I’m back to being a medic. I’m healing and I think...I think that’s what my father would’ve wanted for me in life.”

Shiro raised his eyebrows, surprised to hear you even mention your father after all these years of avoiding the topic. He was careful to talk about your deceased dad, even more so when your mother was involved. You never told him about her and he never pushed to know. To hear you open up, well, it...shocked him. He always hoped to be a good influence to you, a good partner, a good friend.

“I should be the one thanking you, Takashi.”

Oh, he was humbled. You gave him a honest smile, one full of fondness and appreciation. Grateful that he stuck around and helped you start walking again, step by step. Where would you be without him? Fishing, living a humble life, never returning to heal the wounded. Takashi showed you that there was something better out there for you. All you had to do was see it.

“What do you think will be up there?” you gazed out the window, night stars twinkling promises of a new future for you.

“I don’t know - ” Shiro’s eyes reflected the midnight sky, “but it’s going to be amazing.”

#lotor x reader #spacestories #come with me in space #he says #it'll be great #HE #SAYS

[guccisvt]

Pole

Genre: || Romance || Drama ||

Word Count: 2776

Summary: Dance has long since been a passion of yours buried away. When a friend of yours invites you to join them in a dance class, you expected to be taken to a Zumba or a ballroom class. But the poles, sweat, and unnecessarily sexy dance teacher told you otherwise.

A/N: I LOVE TO DANCE. If I could afford it, is would totally take pole dancing classes. They are amazing for your body, just sayin~ *Btw: Beat for the God's - An extremely attractive person. It’s short but lemme tell you, i found this rather...mmm, nice. I may or may not continue. Idk, i’ll think about it.

To say you were nervous was probably an understatement.

"C'mon. You've been cooped up in your flat for weeks and, how could you turn this down, you LOVE dancing!"

You recalled the memory of your good friend who had convinced you to join her in a dance class. Just as she said, you didn't turn her down. Though, as convincing as she was, it wasn't like she had put a gun to your head or anything.

Still...peer pressuring you wasn't very nice.

Regardless of that, you arrived to the dance studio in your car and waited for your friend to arrive as well. It was a little odd, you thought, of the class to be held in the evening. Normally you had heard of Zumba classes being more of a morning class but, it's not like it was FREAKY to have them at night.

You sat in your car for another ten minutes before you saw your friend hop out of their car a few spaces next to you. You watched as she walked up to the studio and noticed their clothes. They looked rather...uh...their clothing looked a bit more loose and covered a lot less than you had been prepared for.

You came dressed in a pair of black shorts and a red tank top With a light, black sweater over it. You looked very...comfortable....compared to your friend. You sighed and ran a hand through your hair before hopping out of your own car, taking your bag with you, and walking into the studio.

As you stepped inside, you found your friend waiting for you, greeting you as you walked in. "I promise, you're gonna love this class. It's super fun."

As they led you in, you found yourself feeling a little alienated by many different things. First thing that caught your eye was the number of feminine presenting people in the room who all looked *beat for the god's. So you instantly felt out of place. Next, the poles protruding out of the wood floor had you all sorts of nervous.

"Uh...what...sorta dancing...do you guys do here?" You asked your friend who went to pull out some water and a towel.

"Baby, this is a pole dancing class." They told you, smiling almost smugly at you. You could feel your palms grow sweaty and your eyes widened. "P-Pole dancing?"

"Hey everyone, sorry I'm a little late." A voice echoed into the room, earning everyone's attention, including yours. He looked tall and thin, and his bleach blonde hair looked a little moist. Maybe he had just freshened up?

He walked over to the front of the room and placed his bag down and removed the jean jacket that shielded him from the cold. He wore a plain oversized black shirt and some black skinny jeans which, among the many other good looking humans in the room, looked fairly normal.

"Alright, I hope everyone is ready to shake off their end of the week stress?" He spoke once again, earning a few woos and hollers from the group. As he turned around, he scanned the room for a moment, taking in everyone's faces.

Until he stopped on you.

"Oh, hello! You look like a new face." He said enthusiastically as he walked over to you. You were quite...distracted by his physique to say the least. He was probably the finest man you had ever laid eyes on.

"Yeah, they're a little nervous to be here." Your friend explained for you. You had found yourself gawking a little but, their smack to your arm was enough to make you pay attention to him again.

"There's no need to be nervous. Everyone in this class is here to better themselves. No one is here to judge. In here, we are all here to work our bodies to their fullest potential and to learn to love ourselves for ourselves. If at any point you don't feel comfortable, you can sit out or leave if you really want to." He explained, his friendly smile really pulling you in.

"I'm Wen Junhui by the way, I'm the dance instructor. I didn't get your name." He asked, placing a hand out to you. You shook it and awkwardly smiled, "(Y/n), ah...I have...never danced in a class before."

Jun nodded, "I see, well I promise you after this class, you'll definitely want to sign up and do it more often. And remember, in here, nothing is sexier than being confident." He made solid eye contact with you, winking casually. You gulped down your nerves and nodded, smiling back at him.

You didn't feel nervous anymore, maybe a little turned on by the teacher, but you generally felt....comfortable.

"Great. Shall we get started?" He asked, this time turning around to the rest of the room and repeating himself, "Shall we get started?" He exclaimed, earning another excited reaction from the room.

You chuckled as he turned away, glancing to your friend who could only snicker and shake their head at you. "You dirty dog." They called you and all you could do was laugh and shrug.

As you finally went to leave your stuff down, the bright lights in the room dimmed and Jun went around the room lighting candles around the room, setting the room into a warm and sensual vibe.

"Now class, let's get ready for our warm ups, any requests on a song?" He asked as the class walked out to their poles. You followed behind, finding a place by your friend. As no one replied, Jun walked over to the front of the room and crossed his arms.

“Cool, I’ll pick today’s warm up then. How about some Ariana? Ladies, I know you guys love Ariana.” He replied, taking out his phone and plugging it to the sound system. As soon as he pressed play, a vibration hit the floor that shook you to your core.

As the music started, you saw everyone begin to move. Some rolled their shoulders back, some rolled their head, some stretched, but everyone seemed to do their own thing without instruction.

You felt a little off by this as you didn’t know what you should be doing. “C’mon, just relax man.” Your friend exclaimed over the music as they began to walk back to you. But, Junhui cut them midway, “Ah. You go warm up, I’ll help our new student.” He told them. She could only smile and nod to him as they turned back to their area near their pole.

Junhui turned around and looked at you, eyeing you up and down, before chuckling. “You feel the vibration in the floor?” He asked, earning a quick nod from you. “Feel it. The music is there to guide you.” He continued, walking over and circling you slowly. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes and as he did, you did. The words, the beat, the atmosphere had you feeling...hot.

“Hands behind you.” He ordered. You kept your eyes closed as you did what he said, placing your hands behind you. As the beat began to build, he grabbed your hands and pulled them gently, carefully pulling them out and closer until you found yourself leaning back into him.

You sighed as you felt him stretch you and as he did so, you gulped hard from the closeness. “Lean forward.” He ordered once again, this time, leaning over you as you did so. He kept your hands in his, lowering them to your back as you leaned forward. You tried not to focus on the fact that he was so...uncomfortably close and instead focused on your stretching. You both held there for a long moment before he straightened up, releasing your hands and moving his other hand on your rhomboid.

“Put your hands out, and when I lean you forward, you’re going to slowly get down.” He instructed, causing you to snap your eyes open.

“I-I’m not-”

“I’m not going to drop you, trust me.” He continued as he slowly leaned you forward. You put your hands out in front of you as he did so, bending your arms to help support you. As you did so, his other hand slipped underneath you, lifting your legs while he also controlled your back. You felt your body roll to the floor along to a riff in the music and for a second, you felt...turned on???

You sighed and laid on the floor for a moment.

“Good job! You just learned your first dance move.” Jun exclaimed, helping you onto your feet again. As he did so, the music silenced and the room was left in it’s erotic echo.

He stepped back momentarily from you glancing around the room, “Everyone, how about we start with some free style today? That way, I can catch (Y/n) up with a few moves.” He explained, allowing for the next song in his playlist to play. Roll Deep.

“So, (Y/n)...dear, you need to relax.” He said as he turned back to you. You nodded firmly again and Jun shook his head sighing softly. “I don’t think you quite get it (Y/n). Pole dancing...dancing in general isn’t supposed to be stressful. It’s not supposed to wrack your brain until you’re imploding.” He explained, walking up to your pole and jumping up, wrapping his legs around it gracefully before sliding down. 

“It’s an extension of your body. It’s expression.” He continued, taking a hand off the pole and taking yours instead. He placed your hand on the pole and gently shifted you close to it. “The very strength that you used to bring yourself down onto the ground is the same kind you’ll be using to hold yourself up. As you advance, moves will move smoothly. For now, I’ll help you step by step.” He explained as he got near you to place your other hand up.

The chill of the pole and the warmth of his hands ran through you, you found yourself ignoring the music and now following his instructions only. “First move I’ll teach you is called The Nothing.”

You raised a brow and turned over your shoulder to look at him. Finding his face closer to your shoulder than you had expected caused you to shoot your attention back forward, starring off in slight shock.

Jun chuckled softly, continuing his lecture, “Your non dominant hand is going to come across your chest, like a seat belt.” He explain, stepping away so that you could adjust yourself.

“Good. Next, just step out with your outside leg.” He continued, watching you intently as you did as instructed. “Next, you’re going to let yourself fall around your pole, keep your knees under you.”

You raised another brow and did as he said, letting yourself sort of fall but instead of looking graceful, you sort of fell onto your side. You chuckled nervously as you pulled yourself up, “Ah...i...I don’t think i did that right.” You commented, but Jun could only smile.

“Then do it again.” He replied, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched you. You huffed a little and did as told, crossed over your chest, stepped out, and let yourself fall. This time, you kept your arms a little straighter and instead of falling onto your side, you bent your knees ever so slightly, allowing your fall to be stopped by the thud of your knees on the floor.

You jolted at the hit to your knee, rubbing them as you stood back up. You positioned yourself again, ready to start again but this time, Jun cut in front of you, grabbing you by your waist. “Keep yourself upright, your hips will swing with your legs and your arms will lower you. Hold tight to the pole but make sure that your hands are loose enough to lower you. You hit the floor when you feel right and make sure you’re holding yourself enough that when you do, you don’t bust your knee on the hardwood.”

You paid close attention to his advice, allowing your hips to move into his hands as he pulled them forward. “Ready to go again?” He asked, stepping away as you nodded.

Who would have thought pole dancing would be so exhausting?

You sighed in relief as the class finished, your friend standing in front of you, a giant smile on her face. “Sooo?” They asked, earning a tired grin from you.

“Alright, Alright...that was fun.” You admitted, chuckling as your friend jumped around in excitement. “I bet! I mean, you had Junhui attached to you like a leech. He’s never so friendly to new students.” She said as she gathered her things. You sat up and began to put your own things away, “Friendly? Really? I thought he was just doing his job, ya know...teaching?” You replied, shaking your head at them.

“Mmmmmhm, I don’t know man. Seems to me like he might be into you.” She teased, gently pushing your arm which tipped you enough to land you on your bottom.

“Oh HA HA. That’s quite the conclusion you’ve jumped to.” You replied, closing your bag before sitting down properly.

“Mmm, it’s not so preposterous when you think about it.�� Another voice replied, turning both your heads. There, with his bag and jacket on, Jun stood with his hands on his hips.

“I love my new students, why are you spreading false rumors?” Jun asked your friend, taking a seat beside her. She could only shrug, acting coy, “Who, me? Why, I would never say bad things about you Junhui.” She replied sarcastically before giggling to themselves.

Jun shook his head and rolled his eyes, “I think (Y/n) did great today for their first class. Do you plan on coming back?” He asked, flashing you a friendly smile. You sighed, thinking hard about it. This would cost money. Probably a lot of money and it was a lot of exercise which, you had never been fond of, but you were rather fond of the teacher. He seemed to know what he was doing.

Yeah, you liked him because he was a great teacher. That’s why.

“I think I just might.” You replied, returning a smile. “Great! Here, take this.” He exclaimed, pulling a black and gold card from his jacket pocket. On it was his full name and contact information. “Just call me whenever you want to come in for a class or a private lesson. I’m sure with a few more classes, you’ll be swiping up men and women like that.” He joked, snapping his fingers.

You could only laugh again, nodding as you read the card. “Thank you Junhui, I’ll make sure to call you.” You replied, finally standing up.

As you walked out of the building, you looked the card over, your friend looking it over as well. “You could call him for other reasons, ya know.” Your friend whispered to you jokingly.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, turning the card over. On the back, writing in white ink shone.

Personal Number.

Your eyes widened like saucers and your jaw dropped. “No fucking way.” You exclaimed a little too loudly, earning your friends attention.

“Jesus, I’m just messing with you.” She replied, but you shook your head before scooting closer to your friend, “Not you ya moron, Look!” You almost cried out, pointing to the number on the back. Your friend gasped before exploding into a fit of laughter.

“Boi, what did I tell you! I told you he likes you! Private lessons my ass, he won’t be teaching you how to pole dance, y’all will be dancing the devil’s tango!” She practically screamed. You smacked them instantly, your face turning a bright red, “Oh my dear g/d, do you WANT him to hear?!” You cried out as you stormed to your car. Your friend impishly laughed as she ran up behind you, “You. Me. My house. Let’s go.”

You glared at them before sighing in defeat, “You. Me. Your House. AFTER i take a shower.” You concluded, earning an excited chirp from your friend who quickly ran to her own car.

You shook your head as you got into your car but, your eyes trailed to the card once again and only a smile could be on your face. For a long second, you looked ahead and smiled to yourself and a weird thought crossed your mind, one that had never even found a place there until then,

“Did he think I was sexy?”

#Wen Junhui #Jun #Seventeen Jun #Neutral pronouns #say the name #non idol au #Admin Jimun #Sfw #pole dancing #dancing #sweat #heat #believe it or not #pole dancing is a great empowerment activity #i recommend everyone try it at least once #swearing