#i am thinking about my trade partner who i never spoke with who stopped showing up

[fan-written]

The Mission

Day 28, Distress

Warnings: Angst, discussion of cheating, and a breakup.

Seriously, there is no happy ending, so if that’s what you want don’t read!!!!! Also, forgive me if it isn’t quite that good. This was my angst practice that I decided to tie into Daminette December. @daminette-december2019-2020

"No."

"Mari, really." Damian sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "It's just a mission. It will be over before you know it. I should even get time off afterwards to go on that vacation you wanted." He reached for her, trying to reassure her that it was fine.

She grimaced and leaned away from his touch. "Sure, just a mission. One where you pretend to cheat on me, then we publicly break up, only for you to begin formally dating your mistress." She stood and began pacing. Her hands waved through the air punctuating each word. "All the while I'll be hiding out in a safe house where you'll come and visit me whenever you can get away. Oh and let's not forget this mark is one Lila Rossi. The same Lila Rossi that tried to ruin my life and almost got me killed."

Marinette spun towards him and smiled stiffly. "Did I misunderstand anything, Dear?"

If he'd had less control over his body, Damian would have flinched at her sneer.

"Habiti," she frowned, "please. It shouldn't last long. We just need to know who has been smuggling the artifacts into the country. Some of them are magical in nature so we need to be proactive about it. Rossi is their public face and we need to get close to her."

“And it couldn’t be one of the unattached men on your team? Or elsewhere within the Justice League? You know, someone who isn’t living with their partner? Who hasn’t had several long conversations about marriage!? I thought you were going to propose, Wayne, not break up with me!”

Damian jumped to his feet at the use of his last name. Marinette hadn’t called him that since they’d started dating. “Pretend. Pretend to break up, Marinette. We would still be together, just not in public.”

Marinette walked around their coffee table as she spoke, making sure to keep it between them. It wouldn’t help much if this fight became physical, but it would leave enough time for her to transform. Damian could see a red Kwami floating nearby and he knew the others would be on standby as well.

“So I’d become the Mistress in hiding? You'd have me waiting patiently for you to return to me whenever you have a free moment to spare. Nothing more than a trinket for your amusement. All while watching you gallivant around with a harpy and manipulator who holds a grudge against me.” He scowled and clenched his fists. She wasn’t listening to him. “That hit last night must have scrambled your brain if you think for one second I’d be-”

“ENOUGH!”

She flinched and Damian regretted yelling at her for half a second. Adrien hadn’t been the most kind to her near the end of their relationship. But he needed her to understand that this was important. These artifacts in the wrong hands would be devastating. They needed to get to Rossi, and quickly, and he was the best one for the job.

“I am the one doing this mission because of your history with her!” His voice was quieter than before, but he struggled keeping it that way. Then again, Marinette always brought his emotions to the surface. “We know she would do almost anything to try and ruin you so I am the perfect candidate. She is more likely to bring me into her confidence quicker than anyone else because she will believe she can cause damage to you through me.”

"Lila would have you put me in a tower just to keep me out of sight. If she had access to gloat over me, even better!" Her voice matched his intensity, "But I've already saved myself from one tower. Another wouldn't stop me." She paused, defiance in every line of her body, asking him to hear her.

Damian searched her face, trying to understand what she was thinking. Instead her normally open gaze was shuttered and her face blank. He could only find a sliver of icy anger in her blue eyes. Finally she scoffed and turned away to look at the ground. Tikki landed on her shoulder and patted her cheek. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. When she looked back up he still couldn’t tell what her thoughts were, but she was calm.

“I can’t stop you from taking this case.” She spoke softly. She wasn’t pleading, but it was a close thing. “I’ve never tried because I know what they mean to you. But just this once I’m going to ask you to not do this. You’ve only read about her, but I know her. She will use you and your resources to get further ahead. She will worm her way into the deepest recesses of your mind and make you believe things you know aren’t true. And if she doesn’t then she will twist you back into a version Ra's would be proud of. I don’t want to see you become a shell of yourself. I’m not sure I could. Please don’t take this case.” 

The silence was deafening. They stared at each other until Marinette looked away. She had pleaded her case even though she already knew the answer.

"I am heading to the Watchtower to let them know I accept the mission. I'll see you when I get back."

Damian turned and picked up his jacket from the back of the couch. He figured she wouldn't say anything else and began to walk swiftly towards the door.

"I won't be here when you get back." He cast a glance back to find her watching him. Her voice rang with promise, almost too loud after the fight. "If you walk through that door now, there won't be anything pretend about our break up."

He sighed and shook his head. "You're just upset. We both are. We can talk about it later when we both have clearer heads." And with that, he left her standing in their living room listening to the click of the door shutting behind him.

---

She hadn't been there, but he expected as much. 

The visit to the Tower had taken longer than he'd expected and he'd come home far too early in the morning for any sensible person.

He noticed immediately that some of her things were missing, but nothing extreme. Just a bag of clothes, necessities, and the miracle box. Her sketchbooks were still in the bookcase and her most recent commission was still on the mannequin. She would be back and they would figure it out.

Two weeks later and Damian was beyond frustrated with her and her refusal to return to the apartment. He knew she was still seen entering it since there had been no scandal in the paper, but never when he was there. They'd only met in public, with other people around, making it impossible for them to discuss anything related to his mission or their relationship.

He was in the middle of sparring with Dick, struggling to pull his punches for such a friendly spar. He was angry, but he didn't want to let on that something was bothering him. He hadn't told his family about the mission yet, but he knew he'd have to before he and Marinette staged their break up.

Not to mention he'd officially met Rossi that morning. She felt just as slimy and greasy as Marinette had made her sound. 

"What's up Little D? You seem distracted today," Dick asked when they stopped for water. 

He took a long draw from his bottle to buy extra time to answer. He probably should have expected Dick to pick up on his distress. "Nothing much." He sighed and looked away. He should tell them, but, not now. Later. "Marinette and I are having a disagreement is all. You know how busy this time of year is for her so we haven't had a chance to actually discuss it yet."

It wasn't quite a lie. She always had an off season fashion show to showcase her students work and give them the feel of managing their own line. But she had always made time to spend a meal with him at least. And they had. However, instead of home cooked meals they hadn't had anything more private than lunch at a busy restaurant since he left the house that day.

"That's tough." Damian couldn't stand the sympathy on Dick's face and scowled. He wasn't going to feel guilty for taking this mission. "Do you want to trade patrol shifts? I have tomorrow off at the precinct so I don't mind working tonight so you can talk to Nettie."

It wasn't a bad idea. Marinette knew his shifts so she would likely avoid him until the next time Oracle made up the patrol schedule.

"Sure," he said with a short nod. "Thanks Richard."

---

Damian had expected to surprise Marinette and finally make her talk to him. Instead he was shocked to find the apartment empty and an envelope with his name sitting on the counter.

Damian,

I love you.

I expected to spend the rest of my life with you, but this is something I draw the line at. I have spent the last two weeks trying to understand why you have to be the one doing this, and while you may get results faster, it's at the cost of my emotions and trust. The cost of our relationship.

You left me, Damian, in the middle of our home to go accept a mission asking you to cheat on me. I tried to get over it, but I like to think I am worth more than that. 

I'll make appearances, be a dutiful girlfriend until the breakup, but that's it. That's all I'm doing for this mission of yours. 

Lila Rossi has taken so much from me, but I refuse to let her take my dignity and self worth. Even if you and I are the only ones who know it.

Goodbye Damian al Ghul-Wayne. I wish you all the luck in the world.

Marinette

Damian reread her letter. And again.

A third time had him rushing to their bedroom. The sound of paper being crushed faint behind the beat of his heart.

Gone. Everything was gone. Her plants, half the pictures, even the cat pillow she refused to give up.

Gone.

Only a handful of clothes and toiletries were left. Enough that when the official breakup happened she would look like she was moving out.

She was gone and he knew she wasn't coming back. Even if he stepped away from this mission now, she wouldn't return to him. 

There was one thing she'd always told him she had trouble fixing once broken. And he had promised her he wouldn't forget. Promised he wouldn't shatter her the same way they had. But he'd forgotten.

He'd forgotten how fragile her trust was.

---

It had taken longer than he thought, but it was over. Lila, no she was Rossi once again, had been more paranoid than they had thought. 

But they had been correct in assuming she would take to Damian the quickest. Whether it was because he was a Wayne, or because he had been dating Marinette they couldn't be sure. But eventually she chose him.

Damian scrubbed his skin raw for hopefully the last time. Rossi had just been taken in by the Justice League and he planned on never seeing her again. He was sure he would feel her hands on him for far longer.

His apartment was too quiet, he thought as he climbed out of the scalding water. It always was these days. No Marinette sewing or baking. No Kwami fighting over the remote. Not even himself lately, flipping through a book in all the chaos.

He missed her. Her passion. Her fierceness. Her sense of justice. Occasionally he had the chance to watch her take down a thug three times her size while wearing whatever gem she chose that night. Occasionally he lost his breath in awe and gained a new bruise for it.

He missed her quiet. Her peace. Her strength. The papers weren't kind to either of them when they staged the breakup. It had happened earlier than he wanted, but all of Gotham could tell something was wearing on their Sunshine. They were even more invasive when she moved out. But Marinette had simply strut out as a modern version of Princess Diana, with her head high. The crowds parted before her without a single question asked. 

He had walked out a week later with Lila on his arm and a glare in his eye. They failed to make the front page much to Lila's ire and his secret glee. Marinette had, in her gorgeous dress and new haircut. Damian would have begged to run his hand through the shiny strands if they had seen each other in that first week.

He missed her nervousness. Her dramatics. Her chaos. She had held her student show two weeks after their breakup and he knew exactly what had been happening backstage. Only this time her usual panic attack would be handled by her students. The freakout at the sound booth would be calmed only after listening to the technician give her another rundown of the show.

And when she walked down the runway in her traditional, single contribution to the show he was blown away. A whirlwind of fabrics and color left the entire audience gaping. She had created a wedding dress out of scraps from all of her students' lines. She was forests of greens and blues, mountains of grays and browns, and sunsets of pinks and oranges. She was hurricanes, tsunamis, and earthquakes. It was creation and destruction, a beginning and end. A power. And yet it was delicate and oh so feminine, even with the torn edges of a runaway bride. She had been chaos and order and the world loved it.

Papers were arguing if it had been inspired by her recent breakup. The elite were whispering about who she'd been seen with. Any unattached bachelor or bachelorette were vying for her attention at every charity and gala. She merely floated through leaving a broken heart in every chest.

But what Damian really missed was her kindness. Her friendship. Her love. The way she smiled when he walked in the door. The blanket she used to drape over their laps while they watched a movie. How she looked for him first after a round with the Rogues. 

She didn't do that anymore. Her smile became a nod in his direction. That blanket was now shared with Cass, or Tim, or Duke. Even Jason would get to share with her on the few times he showed up to family movie night. He still caught her looking for him first, but it was only out of habit now.

Damian almost resented his family. She was good friends with all of them. She ran patrols with them. She trusted them, more than him. But he couldn't. They were his only chance to be near her. To see her relaxed, away from the public eye. The way she used to be with him.

---

"Your partner should be here any minute, Black Cardinal."

Damian nodded at Wonder Woman and leaned back in his seat. He pondered over who it could be. It had been over a year since the end of the Rossi case and some of his family still hadn't fully forgiven him for taking it. He understood. He couldn't quite forgive himself either.

They may have caused more than one problem for the Justice League. It often led to fights when they were paired. If not, then it was miscommunication problems between them. One unwilling to fully trust the other. 

He knew it couldn't be Red Robin. Last time they both ended up in the hospital for injuries they gave to each other. That happened when Damian learned that Tim had actually been working up the courage to ask Marinette out the same night he had. A small part of Tim hated Damian for taking that chance first and then throwing it away.

Red Hood was a hard no when it would be just the two of them. Jason apparently took Marinette in for the first few weeks of The Mission. He saw the aftermath of Damian's decision and Damian couldn't help the bitter jealousy he felt when he saw the other. Their meetings were never pretty. Or quiet.

Maybe it was Spoiler? Stephanie may have raged at him when she first found out, but she always put it aside when they had work.

A flash of red in his peripheral pulled him out of his thoughts. He quickly stood to look fully at the newcomer walking in and couldn't help but gape.

Her style had changed since he had last seen her. She was darker now, finally matching the shadows of her city. Beautiful embroidery detailed the red spots on the black Hanfu robe top. The sash at her waist was a dark red that matched her leggings. It wasn't traditional, but it was practical. He knew she must have felt some pride in showing a part of her heritage. 

In the end he could only think one thing. Ladybug was beautiful.

Damian continued to stare and was shocked to notice the bottom of the robe split in half and fluttered like wings. He could faintly remember reading that that only happened when beetles were agitated, but that wasn't important. 

She was in front of him, in uniform. She was going to be his partner for this mission. She was here.

"-ill you be okay working with him?"

They had been talking. She had spoken and he wasn't paying attention. What did Diana ask? Oh, that.

Damian tried not to hold his breath while she studied him. He had changed too. She had been right that Rossi would twist him; He was deadlier, less caring about accidental casualties.

But she was blank faced again, just like that night. In fact it was better than before. He realized then that he didn't know her anymore. That he would never know her that way again. It twisted his stomach and made his chest ache in a now familiar pain.

And then she spoke and his heart split again.

"It's fine, Wonder Woman. I know I can always trust Black Cardinal to complete a mission."

#maribat #daminette #daminette december #angst #no happy ending #my try at angst #Co's one shot works

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “A little Race.”

So this is a little story setting up for some stuff in the future.

A few of you on the discord server mentioned an interest in learning more about the criminal element within my universe as well as a couple other ideas which I would love to incorporate, so I hope you like where this is going :)

Adam turned heads as he walked through the station. Glowing, grungy neon lights lit him up from either side though the forest of bodies parted before him like a sea. Everyone here looked more than a little unnerved at his presence, and hurriedly scampered away into the dark allies upon the station.

It wasn’t a big place, A trading hub  not so far from the metallic belt, so many of these people probably weren't here for illegal reasons, but based on his time getting to know the criminal underbelly of the universe, he also knew the station’s real reputation. And he knew the man he was looking for was likely to be here. 

He would have disguised himself as Kell, but thought better of it. He wanted to keep that disguise in his arsenal if he ever had to go undercover again, and this wasn’t a moment  he needed to be undercover.

Behind him Sunny walked at his shoulder, holding her pearlescent spear in one hand.

She really made an impression on people these days, and he found it more than useful to have a saint on his side.

He walked down the hallway through a set of doors and then into a wide cargo bay. Someone was playing rap music somewhere, and he could hear it echoing  off the rough metal. Graffiti tagged the walls on almost every surface, including the floor, and the rattle of metal on metal drowned out whatever lyrics there might have been. He stepped further into the room as out of place as he had ever been.

Adam had never been involved in criminal affairs. Beside his brief stint as Kell and his  accidental time in the Turma Prison, he had been a straight arrow all his life. He had never done drugs, never stolen anything, never been arrested. And it certainly didn’t help that he had to run here from an appointment with Admiral kelly, and so was still wearing his UNSC uniform, which was pristinely pressed, light grey  and caused him to stand out like a drop of white paint against a black background.

The music crew louder as he stepped inside.

The room was full of shuttles, or some of them were shuttles and others were more accurately jets. Some of them were old, held together by paint and duct tape, while others glowed sleek with outlandish new paint jobs that included skulls and flames and chains. A group of men and women sat off to one side. The women wore very little, just string bikini tops and cut off jean shorts. One of the women, with long dark hair tied back in a ponytail was wearing jeans and a spoked leather jacket.

A lot of the men wore baggy pants tank tops, with lines of tattoos crawling up their arms and necks.

Similar looking people loitered around the ships tinkering with the engines and polishing surfaces already too shiny to need polishing.

The  woman was the first to see him, sitting up straight with the rattle of leather and spikes, “You don’t have any business here, Get out.”

That caused the others to turn and look, and the group of people bristled like an angry dog, forming into a tight group shoulders wide, arms out chests puffed up.

Adam stopped a few feet away.

“I want to speak with the man called Donovan Red.”

“Ol Donni ain’t here.” One of the men said, spitting onto the floor, “New git!”

“I know he’s here. His ship is parked in the hanger on deck E.”

A couple more men had wandered up to join, and he spotted the tell tale sign of weapons shoved hastily into their pants.

He held his hands out to the sides, “Listen, I just want to talk.”

“Then come  back with a warrant, pig.” ONe of them snapped. The guy was an ugly looking thug with a completely shaved head and bare chest. He had a pot belly from drinking, but he still had one of the girls hanging off his arm shying behind him from for protection.:

He sighed, “I’m not here to talk with him about any of his activities as legal or illegal as they may be. I’m not interested in what he does or who he does it with. I am here to ask him a favor.”

There was a shift about the room, and the woman from before stood up resting a hand on her hip, “The golden boy of the UNSC wants a favor from old Donni.” She barked a laugh and the men and women behind her laughed too.

“”In your dreams, boy.”

The group turned laughing and he felt his insides churn a bit with rage. He went to take a step forward but took a deep breath and stopped, “He will want to reconsider.” they ignored him, “If he does me a favor that means I owe him, Think about that, one of the most powerful men in the GA or the UNSC and I will owe him a favor.” he raised his voice, “Your boss would have to be pretty stupid to avoid an offer like that.”

There was a pause around the room, and then Adam felt something cold press up against his temple, “And you have to be pretty stupid to call him stupid.”

Adam turned his head just slightly feeling the barrel of the gun pressed below his ear.

As he moved the gun moved. Sunny hadn’t bothered to deal with the guy, and he knew why almost immediately.

WIth one lightning fast move he reached up and slapped the gun out of the man's sloppy grip. It clattered to the floor and went spinning away under one of the shuttles. Adam then stepped back and elbowed the man in the face. The man staggered back and Adam finished him off with a kick to the sternum that sent him flying back into  a barrel, which tipped over with an echoing thud and rolled slowly away.

He turned back to the others who were hastily reaching for their weapons, “The next person who points a gun at me is getting a spear through the throat.” Sunny stepped forward with a hungry look on her face.

The group paused, “You’re UNSC, you can’t do that.”

HE crossed his arms, “I won't be doing anything, but I can’t guarantee that my partner here won’t.” 

There was a pause in  the room as everyone nervously looked between each other.

“Why don’t we all just calm down.” The voice echoed in from the back, and the entire group turned to see a man walk up through the isel.

Donovan Red was shorter than Adam had expected, but still fit. He wore a tight black T shirt that bulged around his biceps, and when he walked he walked with the confidence of a man not used to being out of control.

The man walked right up to him, unperturbed by their height difference  slowly looking him up and then down. 

“You shouldn’t have come here, Cinderella.”

Adam raised an eyebrow, “Cinderella/”

The man shrugged, “Yeah, you got that vibe, all dressed up like a princess.” He nodded to Sunny, “And hanging out with woodland creatures.”

Sunny did not look amused, 

“Actually that would be snow white, or sleeping beauty, as I recall Cinderella only talked to mice.”

The man snorted, “My apologies for now knowing my princesses better, Cinder-ellla.”

Adam didn’t respond, didn’t back up. Instead he inched forward so he was towering over the man, “Look I’m not here to bother you or your men-”

“Too late for that don’t you think, princess.”

The men and women behind him laughed.

Adam sighed, “If you will let me finish. I assume that you got off your ass and came over here because you heard what I was saying to your cronies?”

Adam stood his ground as the entire group inched in. It was partly out of show, and partly because he knew sunny and him together could take this crowd easy.

Red looked up at him with his head tilted to one side, “Tell you what.”

He stepped back and turned to look at his men, “I’ll talk to you about your little favor, but-” He held up a finger, “Only if you prove yourself worthy of my time.”

Adam sighed. This was going to be good.

“And how, exactly do I do that.”

“Simple,” The man said with a smirk, “You just have to win a little race.”

***

Eris looked up at the pictures on the wall. There were a lot of them to choose from, and she spent some time wandering around the living room looking up at all the images. She knew these people, or at least it felt like she did.. Through Adam’s memories she knew Martha: intelligent and protective, Jim: strong and loyal, Maya: sweet and adventurous, Jeremy: friendly and changeable, Davide: perfect and charming, Thomas: a general hot mess, but someone who cared deeply about things.

She remembered all of them, but at the same time that felt like invading their privacy. 

They didn’t know her, so it wasn’t fair of her to claim to know them.

She sensed someone behind her and turned to find Martha looking up at the pictures with her. She pointed up at one and Eris followed, “that was last christmas together before Adam went to space.” She sighed and shook her head, “A lot has changed since then.”

Jim followed behind and held out a cup, “Can you eat human food? Sorry if you can’t I just assumed.”

She took the cup, “No its ok, myst of my  insides are human.” She had taken off her hoodie and now let it rest on the back of Martha’s rocking chair.

Jim went to stand next to his wife and looked Eris over with his head slightly tilted.

Eris hid behind her long dark hair, hair that reached past her butt. She wore it long, not only to hid behind, but because she thought it might help to cover the starborn ribbons which trailed from her back.

“You know what Martha, she looks a lot like Maya doesn’t she.”

Martha turned to look and Eris shuffled her feet, “You know what, I didn’t see it before but she does. She elbowed him, definitely has the Vir family nose.”

He grunted, “Be glad she got the nose and not the ears.”

Martha motioned her to take a seat, “Why don’t you sit down and tel lus what brings you all across the galaxy.”

Eris sat shyly on the edge of her seat nervously running her hands through her hair.

“Well….. um , nothing really it’s jus that. I had been taking care of the other hybrids and…. And well I kind of got burnt out and couldn’t do it anymore, so I…. wanted to start living for myself you know?”

The two humans nodded sagely

“But I didn’t know where to start. So I thought I would get to know my roots a bit better. I am half human….. Well DNA says a little bit more than half human, so I thought I might start with you.  Iwanted ;to see Adam, but he seems to be gone, and I can’t reach him.”

Martha nodded, “It has been harder and harder lately especially after.”

Eris’s eyes widened as she read the thoughts forming in the woman’s mind, “Someone is trying to kill him!”

The two paused, but then got back into stride without so much as a look between each other. Eris kicked herself. People always hated being around her when they knew she could read minds. 

Here she was driving people away again.

“Yes…. someone has attempted to kill him in the past. We aren’t sure if it will happen again, but we dor worry about him.”

Eris felt her insides go cold, she could feel it through the mental link to his parents, and she could feel it inside herself as well.

Adam Vir couldn’t die, not before she got to know him better, and certainly not if it was going to hurt his parents, who were some f the nicest people she had ever met.

She had to do something.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: A line not to be crossed

( Don’t forget to come see my on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord ) Deep in the Vergo cluster was the world of Hypress. A serene world of forests, exotic wildlife, and most importantly the central headquarters of the Zoomboian Trade Organization.

Unlike other trade conglomerates who have their headquarters on busy trade worlds filled with never ending streams of shuttles and ships transporting untold billions worth of cargo, the ZTO had placed their headquarters on one of the most remote locations in the galaxy. In fact it was well known that despite owning Hypress outright the only standing structure on the entire planet was the headquarters building itself and a nearby landing pad.

Some would consider this level of distance from major trading hubs and routes to be a hinderance but it was in fact a power move by the ZTO showing that they were so assured of their success that they did not need to be in the center of trade networks to know their investments were sound. This level of assurance and confidence was often enough to saw potential clients to go through the ZTO rather than other organizations, but for those requiring more they were often flown to the world itself to conduct their negotiations in person in the shadow of the ZTO's grandeur. Thus Hiplin found himself sitting across from his latest and possibly most important client. Markus Flint was the founder and current president of the outer rings mining guild. He was well built for a human which was unsurprising considering  having started out as a lowly miner himself. Markus had risen through the ranks and come to manage entire asteroid belt mining operations before breaking away to form the mining guild. His popularity among the laborers drew many miners to him until the guild was the only source of professional miners in the outer systems forcing mining companies to pay the guild to lease their members.

The ZTO had been trying for decades now to enter into the lucrative mineral trade but had been stone walled so to say by the mining companies seeking to keep their competitors at a minimum. It was only the creation of the mining guild that the ZTO decided to approach the matter from a different perspective.

If they could strike a deal with Mr. Flint then they would be partners with the sole source of skilled labor miners in the outer systems allowing them the leverage needed to pry the death grip the established mining companies had on the industry.

They had invited Mr. Flint to Hypress to negotiate just that and had sent their top negotiators Hiplin and Glom to facilitate the deal.

"Does the meal to your liking?" asked Hiplin.

"Aye," Markus began before cutting off a large piece of meat and biting into it, "if this were any fresher than I would think me self back on terra itself."

From the corner of his blackened eye Hiplin could see glom nodding. It had been his idea to procure the favored meat of humans called "steak". He had originally purchase an entire cargo hauler of the food for their chefs to practice on until they could cook it perfectly. A seemingly needless expenditure that now was bearing fruit.

"That is most satisfactory to hear."

Hiplin returned to his meal as well which was equally as carefully planned out as had been the accusation of the meat. Research had shown that humans are somewhat uncomfortable with alien features, such as his vertical mouth and oddly shaped teeth. Therefore his meal consisted of foods that would require him to chew longer before swallowing leading to fewer bites and fewer visual displays of his mouth opening to put the human at ease. Even the table itself had been hand picked for its circular nature giving all those present a feeling of equality.

Inwardly Hiplin had been frustrated with the level of subtext human culture had established over their few thousand years of existence that surpassed even the oldest species of the universe. Humans, though outwardly simple in nature, had developed a seemingly sixth sense to detect underlining messages that made them shrewd traders.

"I must say I was quite surprised to hear the all mighty Zoomboian's wanted to talk with me."

Hiplin looked from his meal to see Markus carefully examining his cup. "With all this wealth and power you have it's hard to believe what you would need me for."

As Hiplin was still chewing his food it was glom's que to speak. "We are not all money grubbers here you know, Mr. Flint." Glom put down his fork and pointed to himself. "I started out as nothing more than an accountant when I first joined the ZTO and I have never forgotten my origins in the back rows of my accounting hall."

Markus grunted and set the cup down and regarded Glom, his clear blue eyes sizing up the negotiator. "I can respect that as a made man myself, but even I don't own an entire planet."

"Yet." Hiplin finished chewing and chimed in while pointing his own fork at Markus. Not capable of producing a facial expression of a smile, it was deemed the motion would be the equivalent of the friendly expression.

Markus let out a loud deep laugh and slapped the table before raising his cup again. "I will drink to that!" He downed the contents in a single gulp before resting the cup down and swatting his stomach.

"I best step away before I make myself as big as a planet; lord knows I can't help myself when I'm around good food."

"Surely you jest." Hiplin said, putting down his own fork. "You appear no larger than any other of your species."

Markus raised and eyebrow and stood up from the table. "Are you joking? If I was any bigger  I would be hauled off to the slaughter house and sold as discount Sunday diner."

Hiplin did not reply as his mind raced. He was unsure if he should continue to compliment Mr. Flint or acknowledge his statement. His training dictated that he should never insult a clients appearance, but with humans the rules were never set in stone. If he continued complimenting him after such a statement he may suspect that his statements are needless flattery and think negatively; but if he confirmed Flint's statement he risked taking what was meant as humor and turning it into fact risking the possibility of anger.

While Hiplin continued debating internally it was Glom who spoke.

"If you were any bigger you would not be able to fit through the door rather than get all the way to the slaughter house."

Hiplin's eyes went wide at glom's remark and he shot a deathly stare at him which Glom met in turn and with a slight nod gestured for patience.

"This one gets it!"   Markus slapped the table again and laughed. "If me wife ever learned I couldn't fit through a door she'd starve me for weeks to make sure I could fit through grate!"

Markus continued laughing as Hiplin let out a deep sigh of relief. Glom was smirking as he had correctly guessed which tactic would most prevail against a human like Flint. After careful study Glom had determined that Mr. Flint was the human type to despise flattery and favored the simple direct approach in speech patterns.

 Hiplin stood himself now and gestured to the adjoining room. "Perhaps we can continue our negotiations now in more formal settings."

Markus nodded as Glom stood as well and the three made their way to the next room over. As they reached the doorway Glom turned to the still smiling flint and said "If your wife is as plum as you are than I am sure we can send you some larger doors when you return home."

The first sign something was wrong was when Hiplin noticed had stopped walking. Markus turned slowly and to Hiplin's surprise the previous smiling face was gone, now replaced with one of underlining hatred and anger.

"What did you just say about me wife?"

The words came slowly but were as sharp as diamonds.

Glom's own expression appeared surprised and worried so hiplin spoke to try and defuse the situation.

"What I believe my cohort meant to say was-"

"Was I talking to you!?" Markus rounded on Hiplin as a few droplets of spit sprayed from his mouth at the outburst.

Markus turned around again and walked towards glom. "I asked you, what did you just say about me wife?" He stabbed his finger into glom's chest with each syllable.

"I..I..What I meant to say was.." Glom was stammering now as his mind raced.

Markus was now standing in front of Glom and though he was only a few inches taller than Glom it felt as if he was towering over him now. Markus leaned down slightly so he was face to face.

"Did you just call me wife fat?"

Glom's mouth opened and closed several times while he looked toward Hiplin for help but nothing came.

Markus fixed Glom with his coldest stare yet and spoke slowly. "You don't eve'a talk about me wife."

Before Glom could respond Markus turned to Hiplin with disgust written all over his face. "We're done here." he said and then strode off to the exit with his boots beating heavily against the fine wood.

Glom and Hiplin panicked and quickly followed after Mr. flint.

"Mr flint, please accept my humblest apologies for my cohorts behavior." Hiplin spoke huffingly while trying to keep pace with Markus. "He is terrible with human customs of humor."

"Terribly so!" Glom chipped in now moving to the opposite side of Markus.

"You don't call a man's wife fat to 'is face and expect him to act like everything is fine an dandy!" Markus huffed loudly and pushed open the thick doors to the hallway leading to the landing pad. "You're lucky I don't have me mining hammer right now or else they'd be washing you out of the carpet for months!"

glom was about to say something when Hiplin grabbed him by the shoulder and motioned him to be quiet.

Before they knew it the group was on the landing pad with Markus making his way back to the mining guild's shuttle with the two negotiators in toe.

"Please!" Hiplin begged as Markus began ascending the boarding ramp, "Let us forget these last few minutes and resume our negotiations; it will greatly benefit us both in the end."

Markus turned and looked down at Hiplin with nothing but disgust across his face.

"I've seen ye true colors now and there ain't no way I or me guild would ever do business with the likes of you!"

With that he went up the boarding ramp and the shuttle ascending back into the stars leaving the two negotiators dumbstruck on where things had gone so wrong.

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #scifi #story

[anon-e-miss]

Barbarian continues - Straxuse's Henchmen is up to no good!

The job of settling the younger sparklings down was taking Prowl some work. Before he could return, Bluestreak woke and started fussing. Smokescreen lifted him from the basket and rocked him gently. He sucked on his own fist and whimpered around it. His older brother cooed at him. Bluestreak watched his brother as he made silly faces and the bitlet quieted his whimpering and focused on his face. Prowl reappeared before the silly faces lost their magic for the newling and as soon as his originator sat on his cushion, Bluestreak was taken into his arms and offered a fuel line. Bluestreak was not long alone, “Yellow” woke and grumbled when he rooted along Jazz’s chassis and did not find the line he was after.

Though his arms were full, Prowl returned to Smokescreen’s lesson. Of course, he was used to this. With questions circling through his helm, Jazz lingered in the harem. Though Straxis private chambers had been purged, Jazz continued to use the alcove next to Prowl’s. It was a bit of a conflict for him. The urge to be close to his creations and the desire to be aloof from Staxis prize. Ori would be angry with him for thinking of Prowl like that and Jazz would not be able to fault his originator. He was not proud of this thought process and he was less proud with how consciously he was clinging to it.

As Jazz lay awake and stared at the ceiling, Jazz heard the whimper of a bitlet. There was a barely audible sigh and the weariness of it only made Prowl a little more relatable to Jazz. It was not welcome. While he argued with himself, Prowl moved. Jazz paused mid thought as Prowl crossed the floor of his alcove and out into the empty, abandoned harem. Jazz waited a bream before he rose. He did not have to look far for the Praxian. Prowl was sitting on the balcony, overlooking the garden, staring out into the darkness. How did he feel about the cavern? Could it have felt claustrophobic? Even if Prowl had spent the last twenty some vorns in some nursery, that did not mean a big cave might not be intimidating.

Jazz heard the suckling of newlings and he wondered if Prowl had come out here to avoid the newlings waking the sparklings, or if he had also been restless and unable to recharge. He made sure to stand within visual range of the mech’s doorwings before he quietly approached. The Twins were fuelling. Their energon brother was dozing between against their wetnurse’s chassis. Prowl inclined his helm to Jazz as he took a seat to his left.

“Havin’ trouble rechargin’?” Jazz asked. The mech looked tired. It was different than the weariness that otherwise hung over him.

“My processor will not cycle down,” Prowl confessed. “Same.” “You need not worry, I am not going to runaway.”

“I wouldn’t stop ya if ya wanted to,” Jazz said. Prowl doorwings dipped lower. It was not a matter of want, was it?

“Smokescreen told me ya got away for a while.” “We stayed with Tumbler,” Prowl said. He stared ahead, Jazz did not think he was seeing anything, however. “He had been my partner when I had been an enforcer.”

“That how ya ended up savin’ the mech?”

“The Senator was arrogant. There was a fuel contamination issue in the district surrounding the dockyards. It lingered on for vorns and vorns despite all the promises. There was a protest. I was on hand with dozens of other enforcers to keep the peace. Apparently there had been a traffic accident a few streets over and despite being aware of the protest, Crosscut and his bodyguard decided they would avoid the traffic jam by trying through the protest. They were mobbed and very nearly killed. I was shot by an errant blaster when I pushed the mob back. I did not realize the extend of my injuries until I had gotten them to safety and given them a piece of my processor for being so reckless and stupid. I collapsed. My spark chamber had been cracked, my spark exposed. When I came online I was shackled to the berth. I was under arrest for theft and deception.”

“Theft?”

“For robbing Praxus of the fertility of my frame. Mech guilty of my crime were either assigned to broodhouses or placed in the custody of a sponsor. Sometimes, but rarely they get bonded off. My uncle sold the right to breed me to Crosscut.”

“Ya must regret savin’em.” “Every mega-cycle since,” Prowl looked down at the newling recharging on his chassis.

“Crosscut was humiliated he had been rescued by a receptive mech. His colleagues mocked him endlessly for it. He avenged his honour on me and put me in my place.”

“He had no honour,” Jazz replied. Prowl looked at him through the corner of his optic.

“He left me be after I kindled with Smokescreen. I was locked in the nursery he had prepared and thought of nothing but escaping. It took me until Smokescreen was nine vorns old to break the encryption on the door. We ran that dark-cycle. I had no credits. My T-cog had been removed. I went to Tumbler’s habsuite. I could think of nowhere else to go.” “He sold ya out.” “He wait two vorns as the ransom rose and rose. In the meantime I paid my way on my back. He did not want me to kindle. He bought an implant and installed it in my chamber to insure there were no accidents. When the reward reached two billion shanix he gave Road Rage his address and went out for the mega-cycle.”

“Fraggin’ Pit.”

“She dragged me back to Crosscut. I was restrained. I fought when he tried to reinstate his claim. It angered him. He promised I would never see Smokescreen again. I begged him. I begged him.”

“What’d he make ya do?”

“He removed my restraints and told me to get on my servos and knees and to present myself. He kindled Camshaft in my that dark-cycle. After that dark-cycle he made careful certain to never leave my forge open for long. He stopped locking the nursery when I was heavy with Downshift. He knew I could not run. He knew it would humiliate me knowing the door was open. Just as he knew I would not leave them.”

“‘M glad he’s dead. ‘M glad she’s dead. If I find out they were given a decent burial, I’ll dig ‘em up ‘n toss ‘em to the sands.”

“Thank you.” Jazz wondered what had happened to his partner, the mech who had used him as an interfacial slave before selling him out.

Had he gotten the pay out, or had he gotten himself into deep slag for revealing he had been warming his berth with the Senator’s prize? There would have been a little justice in it if Tumbler had found himself in chains after selling Prowl back into them. Unfortunately, Jazz knew the world was anything but just. He did not need to leave justice to fate, did he? Praxus was more enemy than ally but they did still trade back and forth. If Jazz put an operative in one of the caravans, he could potential track that Tumbler down and give him the death he deserved. Jazz could do that. That would be a good show of gratitude.

“Mm!” Yellow whined when Red’s enthusiastic wriggling knocked him off his line. “Hush, Sunshine,” Prowl crooned softly and he righted the mechling and got him latched again.

“Sunshine...” Jazz hummed.

“I do not mean offence,” Prowl said, not meeting his optics. “I felt... odd addressing him as Yellow.”

“He shines like the sun,” Jazz said, stroking his creation's helm reverently as he nursed on Prowl's line.

“How did ya do it? Designate all those bitties just right?”

“I would not say I am good at picking designations,” Prowl replied. “It took me an orn to designate Bluestreak.”

“It suits ‘m. He even coos in his recharge,” Jazz said.

“He does,” Prowl said. He looked down at his newling who lay cooing in his little basket, an expression Jazz could not decipher on his faceplates. “I... gave them the designations that came to me. It is traditional to give mechlings infantile or unpleasant designations when they are small. An old superstition. But I wanted to, I hope I gave them good designations. They were the only things I could give them. Something to tie to their memories of me once they left the nursery.”

“Smokey doesn’t want to leave ya.”

“I know.”

“We don’t pass our younglings off to mentors. We don’t bond them off when their interface drive’s ‘ve just engaged ‘cause their sparks turned out receptive. Y’re their origin. If ya want a mentor for Smokey, that can be arranged, but his place is wit ya ‘til he’s ready ‘n grown.”

“I would prefer he stay with me,” Prowl said, tentative. “Unless finds someone he would want for a mentor.”

“Mechling’s devoted to ya,” Jazz said. “Can’t picture’m findin’ a mentor he wanted more than ya.”

“I need him,” Prowl replied and the shame was a bit of a surprise. “I need his help with his brothers and sister. I need his understanding. It is an unfair burden for a mechling his age.”

“Bein’ used as a broodcarrier was an unfair burden to ya,” Jazz said. “Bein’ wetnurse of my twins is another burden. ‘M askin’ a lot o’ ya, on top o’ what ya already got goin’ on.”

“I have the fuel in me to sustain them,” Prowl replied. “As long as you have need of me, I will provide.”

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. The designations came to Jazz as he lingered late into the dark-cycle with Prowl. It pleased him when Prowl approved. Jazz escorted Prowl back to his nook when the three newlings had all drunk their fill and settled into recharge. He only realized how pleased he was by Prowl’s approval until he was laying down in his own berth and he grimaced. The more time he spent with Prowl, the more he spoke with Prowl, the more Jazz liked him. When he looked at Prowl, when he spoke to Prowl, Jazz saw Straxis spectre less and less.

He felt a hideous hatred and a guilt that twisted his spark. An image of Free flashed across his processor and Jazz felt sick. Jazz tossed and turned throughout what remained of the dark-cycle. The solace he had found with Prowl felt like a betrayal. He needed the mech to go. Guilt twisted in Jazz’s spark again, the source different, and he fought to push it down. The clans were gathering. Amongst those coming to Staniz were mechs his kin had considered friends, before their clan had been outlawed, before not a one had spoke out against Straxis’ botnapping of Free Wheeler and his attacks on their clan.

It was easier to swallow the silence of those clans who had long been allies of Straxis than it was to swallow the silence of mechs he would have personally risked his own life to help in the same circumstances. Those old friends would be jockeying for places of favour around him. It made Jazz sick to think about it, but he set it aside. He would listen to them, maybe they would have glyphs that might start him on the path to forgiveness. Those who had directly aided Straxis in his crimes might have come hoping they could talk or bribe their way into Jazz's good graces but they would fail.

Straxis henchmechs had been chased to every corner of the desert. They were no longer a threat. That only left the allies. Jazz would need little encouragement to stamp them out. He knew there were good mechanisms within those clans even if his view of them all had been tainted. If Prowl struck an accord with one... Guilt made Jazz nauseous.

“Jazzy.” Only one mechanism called him that.

“Ricochet!”

#anon-e-miss writes #maccadams #barbarian au #sad!momma prowl #sad!poppa jazz #tf prowl #tf jazz #ficlet

[raendown]

Another follower milestone gift fic, this one for someone who asked to be identified as anon. ^_^ The prompt word for this is woolage!

Pairing: KakashiSakura Word count: 2273 Rated: T+ Summary: Sakura could really use a taste of her own medicine. No, really, she needed some healing before this concussion made her do something that stopped Kakashi's heart entirely.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

A Rock and a Hard Place

Swaying gently on the rock that served as her stool, Sakura blinked up at him owlishly as though her dazed expression could in any way be half as terrifying as the full force of her usual ire. When he failed to look properly cowed she narrowed her eyes but doing so only seemed to rob her of what little balance was left. Kakashi didn’t bother trying not to laugh when she careened sideways off her perch. 

“Not supposed to laugh at me,” she grumbled. “So rude.” 

“Maa, and you weren’t supposed to leap straight in to the radius of my paper bomb. I think that makes us about even.”

Sakura gave an indelicate snort only to break out in a coughing fit when it sent up a small cloud of dust around her face, mashed in to the dirt as she was now. For a good handful of seconds Kakashi seriously considered being a good person and helping her sit upright. Then he discarded the idea. Watching her deal with the early effects of a concussion while her depleted chakra recovered enough for a bit of healing was so much more entertaining. It wasn’t like she had any other injuries from getting tossed back in to a tree, just a routine bump on the noggin, nothing that any shinobi who’d been on the field for longer than two missions hadn’t suffered through before. 

“It tastes really bad down here,” Sakura told him. 

“Probably because you’re practically eating dirt,” he pointed out helpfully. 

“Oh. Yeah. Hey what happened to my rock?” 

“You must have misplaced it.” Kakashi flopped down on to the rock himself and leaned over his mission partner with one eye turned up in a friendly smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you look for it.” 

The gratitude in her eyes when she thanked him for being so nice set him to laughing again. Amazingly, Sakura didn’t even seem to mind. Infamous for her temper as she was, it was a rare opportunity indeed that she let someone laugh at her misfortune without answering their mockery with a swift punch. Kakashi was pretty sure if she tried to throw a punch right now she would be just as likely to find her own face with it.

Shading his eye with a hand, Kakashi made a show of scouring the landscape around them in search of the rock he was currently sitting on. When his search yielded no results he relayed as much to his companion and chuckled as Sakura rolled over to stretch out on her back. 

“It’s not fair,” she grumbled. “Rocks don’t just get up and walk away!” 

“Well, not most of them.”

“Oh! Maybe it was a doton!” 

“Maybe,” Kakashi agreed. 

Did it make him a bad person to wish he got to see her in this kind of state more often? It probably did. He would never wish more harm on her, of course, it was just that seeing her with absolutely no walls around her heart and all inhibitions gone was a very rare treat. Even on the rare occasion she joined her friends for a night of indulging she wasn’t quite this open. Where most people seemed to loosen up with alcohol, Sakura only seemed to make a trade of good balance for more energy without falling victim to the loss of self that led Naruto to confess his love for several different trees in the park near his apartment. 

Really it was good that there was no one else around for Kakashi to justify his actions to. He was fairly sure any of their mutual friends would call him all sorts of unflattering things for enjoying this. 

But really, he would challenge anyone in the world not to be amused at the way Sakura, so famous for her competence and independence, struggled valiantly with the simple task of getting her body upright again. When they made it back to the village he was going to enjoy taking every opportunity possible to laugh about this - where she couldn’t hear him, of course. Kakashi enjoyed a good joke as much as the next man but he also enjoyed keeping his spine inside his body where it belonged and Sakura was more than capable of removing that for him if she was angry enough. 

“Hey, hey, come here.” Waving one hand, Sakura beckoned him with her eyes set somewhere vaguely over his left shoulder. It seemed not only her good sense had been affected by the concussion but her good vision as well. Not an unusual symptom. Kakashi moved to crouch down in front of her as bidden. 

“You called, my lady?”

She laughed a little before nodding. “I think the ground is trying to keep me.”

“Well I certainly can’t blame it for that.”

“Huh?”

“I would try to keep you too if I had you.” 

The way her eyes widened made him chuckle but it was a nervous sound, hopeful that she wouldn’t remember any of this once she was able to heal herself. Sakura hummed thoughtfully. 

“Help me up,” she demanded. 

“Someone’s feeling bossy.” Despite his words he was already holding out one hand even as he spoke. 

It very quickly became clear that more than one hand would be needed to keep her steady as Kakashi hauled her up on to her feet, quite happy but just as ashamed to stand there holding all of her fingers entwined with his own while she swayed dangerously back and forth. He could see the trajectory of her fall when it finally came but watching her face plant against the buckles on his vest was so much funnier than doing anything to catch her. With the careful distance that had always existed between them before he expected her to push away immediately. Maybe to giggle a little considering her almost inebriated state. He certainly didn’t expect her to just stay there and wriggle about until she had freed her face to look up at him with a smile. 

He should have known right there that something was about to happen but even if he’d tried to brace he never would have been able to prepare himself for two hands suddenly winding themselves about his neck as Sakura pulled her face right up close to his own. Kakashi was abruptly extra grateful to his mask for covering any traces of what was surely a very deep blush on his cheeks. 

“I am the boss,” Sakura declared. 

“Maa, if you want to be,” was all he could think to say. His agreement seemed to please her, which she showed by pulling even closer until she was up on her tippy toes. 

“What I say goes!”

Kakashi swallowed, imagining all the things she could say and how eagerly he would do them. “Right. And what are your orders, Sakura-sama?”

The tinkling giggle she made at being addressed so formally was like the ringing of little silver bells. 

“I order you”-her fingers were already moving even as she spoke, giving no quarter and no time for protest-“to let me play with your hair! I’ve always wanted to know!”

“A-ah. Kn- oh my. Know what, exactly?” 

Breathing, he discovered, was incredibly difficult with such a pretty face so close to his own. Add to that the warmth of Sakura’s body seeping through his clothing plus the heavy weight of guilt knowing that she was not in her right mind and Kakashi found that he simply didn’t know what to do. Obviously the right thing to do would be to push her away but it was possible he was over-interpreting this. In this state Sakura might not even realize the implications of their position.

Her actions certainly supported that theory. Despite the intimacy she had pressed herself in to she seemed interested only in the spiky rough hair she’d gotten her hands on. Another tinkling giggle escaped and while it was indeed a very pretty giggle Kakashi absently noted that he preferred her usual brash laugh. It suited her so much more. 

“I’ve always wanted to know what it felt like! And if you might like it when I pull on it.” With a beguilingly empty smile Sakura tugged ever so gently on the small fistful she was holding, her eyes very carefully watching the spot just next to his own. 

“Why...would you want to pull my hair?” Kakashi asked. 

“Duh, to see if you like it.”

Frowning, he was almost distracted as he asked, “Why would I like it?”

“Oh I dunno. Some people like it when you pull their hair in bed, y’know? I like it.” Sakura’s face morphed in to a heated expression as if she hadn’t just floored him with a couple of boldly spoken sentences. “Do you wanna pull my hair, Kakashi?”

“I found your rock! Let’s get you back on the rock, okay!?” 

“Mou, but I wasn’t done!”

Kakashi ignored her protests, slipping away from the grip on his hair and trying not to be too obvious about the panic attack he was currently having. As he settled his mission partner back on to the rock she’d fallen off before he made the mistake of looking away for a crucial few seconds. It was all the time she needed. Before he could even get his eyes back on her Sakura was lunging forward to bury her fingers in his hair again, trapping him in place, leaving him utterly helpless to do anything but listen as she murmured excitedly to herself.

Obviously it wasn’t the first time he’d been this close to a woman. It wasn’t even the first time he’d been this close to Sakura herself. The problem was that it was the first time that didn’t involve fighting for their lives together or sparring or even medical attention. Kakashi knew he should find an excuse to move away before his poor depraved mind could start feeding him images from the last time he’d dreamt of something disturbingly close to this. And he really would have, honest, if not for the fact that even concussed Sakura had a very strong grip and Kakashi wasn’t the most vain man in the world but he didn’t really want to walk around with several chunks of his hair missing.

“It’s always so messy,” Sakura breathed. “How...how does it stand up on it’s own!?”

“Natural talent,” was all Kakashi managed to wheeze in return.

“Does it smell nice?” 

With an oddly gentle pull she dragged him in close enough to bury her face in the very top of his head, breathing deeply while Kakashi did his best not to take advantage of the angle he suddenly found himself in. He might appreciate her chest in the privacy of his own fantasies but he liked to think he had more tact than to do so now. Despite his many other flaws he wasn’t a total creep. Just a little bit of a creep. A little wasn’t too bad.

“Maa…” he managed to choke out eventually after the silence began to stretch on. “Does it?” 

“Smells like dirt. And sweat. And just a little bit of citrus. Why do you have lemons in your hair?”

“That would be my shampoo,” Kakashi told her in a strained voice. 

“No, I’m pretty sure there’s lemons in here. Don’t worry, I’ll find them!” Sakura’s face lifted off the top of his head but there wasn’t much relief to be had when her fingers continued to poke and prod, shift and dig, all but massaging his scalp in a fuzzy-minded search for fruit that wasn’t there. Kakashi prayed for strength when she added in a mumble under her breath, “So much hair, so messy, gonna take a while to find those lemons…”

Feeling rather like his presence had somehow been forgotten, Kakashi very slowly shuffled around until he’d curled his body in to a position that wouldn’t start to ache before he was finally released. Who knew how long this wonderful torture would last? A part of him hoped that Sakura’s chakra levels would recover quickly so he could be free but another very shameful part was more than happy to remain exactly where he was and just let her do as she pleased. It was very possible he should have been thinking of some way to help that first part along. Instead he only settled both hands in his lap and closed his eyes when Sakura’s fingers dragged against the natural grain like she could somehow know how much he liked it. 

Maybe, he thought to himself with a hint of wry humor, he should finally man up and just ask her out. One dinner together wouldn’t hurt anyone, probably wouldn’t wouldn’t ruin their friendship if it didn’t go well. He would have to gather his courage - later. 

A quick peek up even at this angle told him that Sakura was still just as out of it as ever, no closer to returning her own good sense, which meant he would probably need to deal with this odd behavior for a while yet. When she did come back to herself Sakura was no doubt going to be mortified at her own actions and Kakashi very much wanted to be able to tell her with perfect honesty that he hadn’t taken advantage of the situation beyond getting in a few laughs. With any luck his honesty would earn her favor. 

Then with even greater luck he would take his shot and maybe, just maybe, he might have the honor of feeling those deceptively small fingers in his hair again for an entirely different reason. 

#rae writes #follower milestone #kakasaku #sakura #kakashi #fanfiction

[silverwhiteraven]

Borne of the Stars - Chapter 14 - An MLB Kryptonian AU

Tag List:  @eve-valution @weird-pale-blonde-person @kris-pines04 @soulmate-game @abrx2002 @amayakans @vixen-uchiha @heldtogetherbysafetypins @raisuke06 @dorkus-minimus @mopester-is-here @moonlightstar64 @annabellabrookes @toodaloo-kangaroo @the-navistar-carol @elspethshadow @chocolatecatstheron @ivymala07 @maribat-is-lifeblood

[ Summary: Author is Back! The Heroes now meet. They also meet their first Akuma. ]

[ Posted on A03 ] [ Chapter 1 ] [ Chapter 13 ] [ Chapter 15 ]

Marinette was falling.

Well, falling as much one could when holding on for dear life to one end of a magical yo-yo that acted as its own weird grappler mixed with a trapeze. Neither of which she had ever used in her life.

First time for everything she supposed, though she also hoped this wouldn’t end with lasts, either.

Speaking of firsts being lasts, she realized her latest upswing was about to turn into a crash course collision with a black clad figure floating in the open air. As she yelled a terrified “ Look out!! ” at the person she didn't know was friend or foe, she really did wish this would be her one and only time her bad aim with a yo-yo ever turned into this situation. She really doubted it, though, but a girl can dream.

She barely saw a flash of blonde hair and green, green eyes turn towards her in shock before they slammed into each other, and fell several meters to a high rooftop below with mutual ‘ oofs ’ and wire wrapped around them. They rolled to a stop, Marinette resting awkwardly atop the other who had her back to the roof.

“I am so so sorry!” Marinette immediately apologized as soon as breath was back in her lungs. “I’m really new at this, I-” She was interrupted and silenced a moment later by a laugh and green, feline eyes looking into her own from below.

“Don’t worry about it, little lady,” the girl clad in black soothed reassuringly, her French accented. “I know a thing or two about knocking everything over when you first start out. I’d make a great practice dummy if you ever need it. Now, let's get out of this- uh…” She looked down, confused, at the string around them as she gave her arms a tug. “Wow, this stuff is stronger than I thought.”

Marinette could just feel the yo-yo string staying firmly tight with every tug, and realized she still had one end of it in her hand. “Oh! Let me just-” One tug, and the yo-yo came zipping around them and back into her hand. She was up in an instant, backing up with a flush of embarrassment on her face. “S-sorry, again, I’ll get better at this soon.”

The other girl just grinned, revealing pointed canines as she stood up as well. “Take your time, I can carry us both for as long as we need until you’re ready.”

A distant rumble caught their attention, and the blonde girl went tense and turned back to Marinette.

“Let’s make these introductions quick. I’m Oncilla the Black Cat,” The girl in black said, a hand over her heart and the other behind her back, taking a rather formal looking bow. “You must be the Ladybug I was told to expect?”

Marinette gaped like a fish for a moment before nodding quickly. “Oh, yes! Ladybug, yeah, you can call me that, not many other options with this costume, huh?” She joked nervously with a glance at her red and black-spotted hoodie.

“It suits you, Buggy,” Oncilla said with a grin, then walked over to the edge of the roof towards where the noise was coming from. Marinette- Ladybug- followed, fidgeting the yo-yo in her hand. “We should get going,” Oncilla added, squinting into the distance. “If there's anything I know, it’s that the damage only gets worse with time.”

“Experienced?” Ladybug asked, looking out over the edge nervously.

“Very. You?”

Ladybug laughed nervously once more. “Only with classroom bullies. This is…”

“Bigger, yeah. But think of it this way,” Oncilla turned to Ladybug and set a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “In a classroom, you're both on equal footing. Out here with villains? The field is bigger, but being Ladybug means your footing is the same, too. And you know what else you have that they don’t?”

“What?” Ladybug asked curiously.

“Back-up,” Oncilla said confidently through a big grin. “Bullies never have many friends, and villains are nothing more than slightly bigger bullies with even bigger heroes to oppose them. Trust me, your Ladyship, we got this. ”

Ladybug’s shoulders relaxed, and a grateful smile spread on her face. “Thank you. Having friends to back you up is always a good choice. Glad to have you as one of mine.”

Oncilla beamed at her. “Let’s head off. I can fly, but since you can’t, I'll stick with you. I've learned my lesson with going in head-first without my team, I won’t be teaching that to you on our first day together.”

“I appreciate it, considering I’m still not used to this yet at all,” Ladybug showed the yo-yo in her hand. “Catch me if I fall again? I don’t think ladybugs land on their feet…”

“‘Course,” Oncilla answered, then pulled a silver staff from behind her back. Not only did she plan to stay by Ladybug, she also seemed to be planning to forego flying so she could keep the same pace. Ladybug appreciated the gesture, and with a toss of her yo-yo and a step off the edge, she was off towards her first ever in-person super-villain, partner close behind.

Their travel wasn't long, though it felt like forever to the poor Ladybug, who was holding any more panicked yells from escaping. She really hoped she would get used to this soon, she really did.

They found their villain near the Eiffel Tower, the large monument clearly being the Akuma’s goal.

“They're trying to get a higher vantage point,” Oncilla fills in as Ladybug notices the Akuma was only floating so high off the ground. One of the Black Cat hero’s feline ears was flicking, cluing the other into Oncilla’s enhanced hearing as well.

As Ladybug turned back to look at the villain, squinting at them, she could have sworn for just a second she heard the Akuma muttering to themself. Maybe she got her hearing enhanced, too, just not as much? She supposed it went along with the themes, really.

“So how do you usually handle this kind of thing?” Ladybug questioned without moving her eyes from the target. She also kept them moving closer, though slower to keep from rushing or alerting the Akuma.

“Observe, strategize, attack, and don’t ever hesitate. Waiting is only good if it lets you get information, otherwise that’s just stalling, and stalling is bad if you don’t want extra collateral damage.” Oncilla was clearly concentrating well on the situation, looking and sounding perfectly in her element. Ladybug felt out of place, but she still held to the hope that she could fill her new role without any classic Marinette-clumsiness getting in the way.

“Observe…” Ladybug mused. “I saw earlier from my own, uh, high places, that all the glowing street parts popping up are a big, connecting map. The roofs of some buildings are even getting marked with icons.”

“Oh, I noticed that too, a... friend pointed it out to me,” Oncilla nodded. “But why turn the whole city into a giant map?”

Ladybug shrugged. “Maybe they got lost, couldn't find a place to ask directions?” She tapped her chin, thinking more. “I also saw a few odd things while I was swinging around. A few miscellaneous places had markers on them, almost like pins in a personal map rather than existing landmarks. They could be caused by the Akuma’s personal interests in those places?”

“Sounds reasonable. But in that case, they already know the layout of the city. Again, why a map ? Maybe...”

“They're tracking something?” Ladybug filled in.

“Exactly!” Oncilla snapped and smiled at her. “Maybe a bit more like a GPS system. Or a treasure hunt. They don't know where the thing they're looking for is, but they know it’s going to be marked on the map. So, they need to get somewhere to be able to see the map best.”

“Like a really tall tower in the middle of a lot of shorter buildings,” Ladybug finished, then looked onward, past the Akuma, to the Tower itself.

“Let’s intercept them at the base,” she suggested, “If we can't stop them there, we can at least follow them up and see where they go from there.”

“Smart,” the other replied. “Let’s go.” And with that, Oncilla was running and pole vaulting towards the Tower, skirting far around the Akuma to avoid notice, Ladybug close behind with her yo-yo.

The two heroes got to the base of the Eiffel Tower before the Akuma did, though not by long. However, the Akuma seemed not to notice them, eyes locked on the upper levels. That is, until a violet glow ringed their mask, and their eyes snapped downward to the duo, before their previously pensive expression warped into a cold sneer.

“The Ladybeetle and Black Cat! You finally arrived!” The Akuma spoke loudly, impatience thick in their tone.

The two dropped into defensive stances at the recognition, Ladybug’s more sloppy and unpracticed than Oncilla’s. Ladybug thought to herself that she should really take more fencing classes as Marinette. Maybe Kara and her friends could assist, too? Not the time to think about this! She self reprimanded, turning her focus back to the villain.

“What about us?” Oncilla taunted, bringing the focus of the Akuma to her.

“I am Atlas, and in exchange for your Miraculous, I shall be able to find what I have lost with the gift I have been granted. So hand them over.”

“Yeah, no,” the Black Cat wielder continued, “These aren't toys to trade like Halloween candy. We keep them, and you get lost.”

"No! Give me your Miraculous and get out of my way so I can get back to finding my things!" The Akuma bellowed at the heroes.

"I'm sorry Atlas, but we really can't do that," Ladybug chimed in, looking conflicted. She wasn't used to this, it was only her first time as a hero, let alone negotiating with a super-villain or a possessed civilian. Yet, there was something here she did know how to do.

"But!" She interrupts the Akuma as their face contorts into a deeper scowl, their body crouched and coiled, ready to jump at them. "But, maybe we can help?"

"Help?" Atlas became confused, and the butterfly-shaped glow returned. They waved it away with a shake of their head, "Quiet, Hawk Moth, maybe she can help you with this, too."

"Yeah- Yes! I can try to help, what is it you lost, maybe we can look for it." She glanced back to the other hero, making sure she was on board. Oncilla shrugged, relaxing from her previous stance and restraining herself from jumping right into fighting.

The Akuma looked thoughtful before answering.

"Well, at first, I just lost my pens,” the Akuma recalled aloud. “But then..." Their expression contorted in pain as they remembered their moments that led to their Akumatization.

"I lost a lot, actually," they amended. "Today was rough, a lot went bad. I just wanted to relax and work on my calligraphy when I was finally home. But I couldn't find my pens, or my backups... God, I found my good paper with spilled ink! " Their voice rose again, the anger and frustration growing and radiating from them like a toxin. Ladybug kept herself from recoiling and held herself as steady as she could, listening.

"I'm probably the one who spilled it when I left this morning, hell, I probably forgot my pens in the locker when I emptied it, or on the subway like a freaking idiot . I keep doing things like this, losing everything . I can't keep anything straight, I can't remember anything right, I can't do what's expected of me! " Tears streamed down their cheeks now, and their cries had risen to a yell.

"I need everything mapped out for me because I'm useless without that!! So just, HELP ME , or GIVE UP and GIVE ME THE MIRACULOUS!! "

The butterfly glow returned, and only a split second of unheard prompting had the sorrowful and angered Atlas attacking the heroes off-guard.

The two heroes jumped apart, dodging the first attack. Oncilla was quick to engage Atlas in  close combat while Ladybug recovered herself.

The fight moved away from the newer hero, and in an attempt to get herself closer, tossed her yo-yo into the beams of the Tower. It stuck and pulled her up, but she failed to get it back down, and ended up hanging from the string a few meters in the air. Looking around to see if there was anywhere for her to safely fall to, she realized, even if it wasn't much, she could see things better than from the ground.

“Oncilla!” Ladybug called out, and saw the other hero’s feline ears twitch towards her in acknowledgment. “I need to get higher, I have an idea! Can you handle them for a minute more?”

“Of course!” came the response. “Easy peasy, lemon squeezy, I got this! Go!”

With a quick, hard tug, and another throw of the yo-yo as she fell, Ladybug was heading up the Eiffel Tower.

As she swung to the peak, she called out, “ Lucky Charm! ”

#Borne of the Stars #maribat #Krypto-Mari AU #marinette dupain cheng #kara danvers #miraculous ladybug #dc super hero girls #black cat kara #kryptonian au

[brain-deadx0]

Frozen Heart ch 2

Chapter 2: For the First Time in Forever

Chapter one: Do you wanna build a snowman

Notes: This story will diverge from the original Frozen mostly when we get to the plot so to any fans of our stand in Hans don’t worry… Too much.

several years later...

Patton was woken from his sleep by a knock at the door. “Whosit?”

“Prince Patton?”

“No I’m p’ttn.” He mumbled into his pillow.

“Yes your highness, you are.” The probably familiar voice said, “Sorry to wake you, sir but-”

“No, no you didn’t. I’ve been up for hours.” Patton told them with a yawn as he started to sit up.

His eyes drooped shut before he moved to get out of the bed and after a moment the knocking came again.

“Who is it?” Patton said as he opened his eyes again.

“Still me, sir.” The voice said with amusement, “It’s time to get ready.”

“Fer what?” Patton asked as he tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

“Your brothers coronation, sir.”

“Right. The cornermaration…”

Patton tiredly placed his glasses on his nose and his room came into focus. As did the light blue suit he had been itching to wear, sitting in the corner of the room.

“It’s coronation day!” Patton said excitedly as he jumped out of bed.

He got dressed as quickly as he could and brushed down his messy morning hair. Before long he was speeding through the halls taking in the sights he hadn’t seen since before he could remember.

The castle was filled with energy and Patton was absolutely giddy with excitement. The windows were being opened as well as all the main doors.

He couldn’t wait to see what the ballroom looked like when it was full of actual real life people. There’ll be music and dancing and life. And people!

He couldn’t wait to meet everyone and make friends! And who knows maybe he’ll meet someone who’ll become more than a friend. And oh boy wasn’t that a thought?

After all, it was always situations like these where people met and fell in love and got married and lived happily ever after, right? At least that’s how it happened in the books.

And sure it’s not like Patton was expecting all that to happen in one night, but just imagining finding his true love made a warm fuzzy feeling spread in his chest. Seeing someone from across the room, locking eyes, and meeting for a dance before spending the rest of the night talking and laughing together. Oh it would be such a great change from everything.

~

Logan had barely slept that night. He knew that probably wasn’t helping his nerves at all but there was nothing to be done about it now. Today was coronation day and it wasn’t as if he could get out of his own coronation.

He removed his gloves and picked up a candle holder and small music box like they were the orb and scepter he would need to hold later. Everything would be fine. He’d hold them like he was supposed to during the ceremony and then as soon as it was over he could put his gloves back on and just keep to himself as best he could for the rest of the night. It’s just for one day. He could do this.

But even as he tried to convince himself the candle holder and music box were quickly becoming covered in ice.

God he couldn’t do this.

But he had too.

“Conceal. Don’t feel.” He told himself as he placed the decorations down.

He opened the door to his room and stepped out. “Tell the guards to open the gates.” He told the nearest servant.

~

When Patton heard they were opening the gates he ran to make sure he was there the moment they opened.

Patton bounced on the balls of his feet as the large wooden doors creaked open, and before anyone could stop him he ran through them.

The town was so pretty!

It was decorated for the coronation of course but even looking past the streamers and flowers Patton could tell it was still beautiful. He ran through the square trying to take everything in at once. He probably could’ve gone on like that all day if it weren’t for the horse.

Patton was running around a corner when he collided with the chest of a large horse and fell to the ground; losing his glasses in the process.

“Oh my gosh I am so sorry!” Someone said.

A moment later someone was in his line of sight offering him his glasses, “Are you alright?” They asked.

“Oh yes I’m fine,” Patton laughed as he put his glasses back on, “I wasn’t watching where I was… going.” ‘Oh that is a handsome man.’

“No it was my fault. I should’ve been more aware of my surroundings.” The handsome man said, “Are you sure you’re alright?” He asked as he helped Patton to his feet.

“Oh yeah, that was nothing.” Patton blushed as he brushed the dirt off of his suit.

“Well I would hardly call getting run into by a horse “nothing,” but I’m glad you’re okay.” The man smiled, “I am Prince Roman of the Southern Isles.” He said with a bow.

Patton bowed back, “Prince Patton of Arendelle.”

“Prince…? My lord.” He said before dropping to one knee, “Once again I am so sorry for hitting you with my horse.”

“Oh. Um you don’t have to do that.” Patton told him, “Besides it really was my fault.”

“Well regardless, I would still like to extend my formal apologies for running into the Prince of Arendelle with my horse.”

“No no no it really is fine. I mean I’m not that prince. If it were my brother Logan then it’d probably be, you know, but I’m not and it’s just… me.” ‘Please stop talking.’ He thought to himself.

Roman rose to his feet and smiled, “Well I know we’ve just met but I think “just” you is pretty-“ whatever he was about to say was cut off by the sound of bells.

Bells. Bells!

“The bells. The coronation. Oh my gosh I’m so sorry but I have to go.” Patton told him.

“Right, of course.” Roman agreed.

Patton stood there for another moment before realizing he hadn’t actually walked away yet, “Oh! Um see you later.” He said before rushing away.

~

‘Oh my god he’s adorable.’ Roman thought to himself as he watched the prince run back towards the castle.

...

When Logan walked into the room he was almost disappointed to find that Patton wasn’t there. Only for him to appear moments later as he ran to his place on the side of the alter; nearly tripping himself by stopping so quickly. Logan supposed It was nice some things never changed.

But he didn’t have time to dwell on it as he walked towards his place, royal mantle trailing behind him, and kneeled in front of the bishop. He clenched his fists and hoped no one would notice the slight shake of his hands as the crown was placed on his head.

At the bishops instructions Logan rose to his feet. Now was the part he had been dreading. He carefully slipped off his gloves and grabbed the orb and scepter as they were offered to him before turning to face the people.

‘Conceal. Don’t feel. Conceal. Don’t feel.’ he chanted in his head with every breath.

But despite the mantra he could feel the frost forming under his fingers as the bishop continued to talk.

By the time the man had finally finished the orb and scepter were covered in a thin coating of frost. Thankfully it wouldn’t have been noticeable to anyone who wasn’t standing next to him. Even then they would’ve had to have been watching the artifacts. But Logan couldn’t put them down fast enough and replace his gloves when the bishop finally said, “King Logan of Arendelle.”

“King Logan of Arendelle!” The crowd echoed.

…

“I mean are you sure I’m supposed to stand- oh ok.” Patton said as he was ushered to stand next to Logan on the pedistal.

Neither brother spoke for a few long moments.

“Hello, Patton.” Logan finally said.

“Me? Oh, hey…”

“... You look well.” Logan told him.

“Thank you. You look weller. I mean. Wait is that even a word? You look great!” Patton said back.

Logan smiled, “Thank you. And yes, “weller” is technically a word and you used it correctly.”

“Oh. Ok. Good.”

“So…” Logan said after another moment of awkward silence, “This is what a party looks like.”

“Yeah.” Patton agreed as he looked back over the crowd. He’s never seen the ball room so full of life and he couldn’t help but smile, “It’s warmer than I thought it’d be.”

Logan huffed out a small laugh at that and Patton smiled wider, “I’d have to agree with you on that point.”

“Mmmm do you smell that, Lo-gan?” Patton asked. Not sure if he should call his brother by his old nickname or not.

They both inhaled deeply to catch the scent.

“... Crofters.” They both sighed happily.

They laughed when they realized they had said that in unison.

Patton argued with himself internally. There’s so many things he’s wanted to say to Logan after all these years. But just as he’s about to say something he’s interrupted.

“Your Majesty. The Duchess Of Weaseltown.”

A woman, probably just a bit too old to be showing as much cleavage as she was in her gown, and wearing a hat with an over sized feather, stepped forward; barely concealing a frown.

“Weslton.” She corrected, “The Duchess Of Weslton.” She says with a curtsy.

Logan nods his head in acknowledgment.

The duchess rose from her curtsy and cleared her throat before continuing, “Your Majesty, as your closest partner in trade, it seems only fitting that I offer you your first dance as King.”

Logan schools his face and Patton bites his tongue as the duchess proceeded to do… something with her feet that was probably meant to be dancing before going down into a deep curtsy.

As she bowed her head and held out her hand the large feather dipped forward, practically covering her entire face.

Both brothers hide their giggles by pretending to stifle their coughs.

“I appreciate the offer Madam, but unfortunately I don’t dance.” Logan tells her.

Patton almost breaks as her head flies up so fast the feather bends to the point it looks as if it will break.

“Oh?” She asks.

“But my brother here is a marvelous dancer.”

The duchesses face brightens instantly.

“Wait what?”

“Lucky you!” She says before suddenly pulling Patton by the arm into the dance floor.

Logan hid his amused smile behind his hand and bit his lip when he heard the duchess say, “Don’t worry your highness if you swoon I will be sure to catch you!”

Patton shot him a slight pout over the duchesses shoulder and Logan sent back a smile and a shrug.

Patton did his best to keep up with the duchesses… dance moves, but it was hard to keep your composure between having your feet stepped on and getting hit in the face with a feather every five seconds. Not to mention when she began to dance like an angry chicken he was very close to bursting out in laughter.

“It’s so great to have the gates open again, don’t you agree?” She asked.

“Yes. It’s great to-” Patton’s sentence was cut off when the duchess was suddenly right in his face; giant feather reaching across to touch the tip of his head.

“Why did they shut them in the first place? Do you know the reason?”

“...No?”

The woman scrutinized him for a moment before backing up with a bright smile, “Oh alright.” She said before taking his hands, “Now hang on, they don’t call me the Little Dipper for nothing!”

Patton let’s out a slight help as he’s suddenly being flung backwards into a dip. He can see Logan trying not to laugh at him. And tries to send him a glare without smiling.

Patton didn’t know how long he actually spent dancing with the duchess, it could’ve been one song or twenty by the time he was finally able to make it back to Logan.

“Let me know when you’re ready for another round, m’lord!” The duchess called.

Patton’s back was to the crowd and Logan hummed out a laugh at the look of fear that momentarily crossed his face at the idea.

“Well, she was… sprightly.” Logan said.

“Remind me to wear steel toed shoes next time.”

“Are you alright?” Logan asked, still unable to hide his smile.

“I can’t say the same for my feet but personally, I’ve never been better. This day has been amazing. I wish it could be like this all the time.” Patton told him as he gazed back out over the crowd.

“Me too…” Logan admitted. But just when he was actually starting to enjoy himself he remembered why it couldn’t. The permanent white streak in Patton’s hair was proof of that. “But it can’t.”

Patton frowned, “Why not? I mean now-”

“It just can’t, Patton.”

Logan could see the hurt in Patton’s eyes even before he spoke.

“I’m- if you’ll excuse me for a minute.” Patton says before walking away.

It takes everything Logan has not to stop him right there and apologize. But no. The gates have to stay closed until he is safe to be around. Even if it means hurting Patton’s feelings in the process.

‘I’m going to tell him.’ Logan decided.

After all, Patton isn’t five years old anymore. And knowing why they couldn’t have the gates open all the time might make it easier to tolerate. Patton probably wouldn’t want to see him anymore when he realized how dangerous Logan was… but at least he’d know. And he’d be safe.

#frozen heart #frozen au #brain dead writes

[prettywordsyouleft]

Heaven

Prompt: #163 for @jinseunie​ – “Oh I didn’t realise you’re dead.”

jinseunie said:

hmmm 163. it seems like it could go many ways 👀

Pairing: Park Jinyoung x reader

Genre: university au / friends to lovers / fluff

Warnings: none

Word count: 1878

Groaning, you threw yourself down on Jinyoung’s bed, thumping the bed once and then you stilled completely. If you stopped breathing, you wouldn’t have to worry about anything anymore.

No more bad grades.

No more botched confessions to Mark Tuan.

And definitely no more gaining weight when you strayed from your diet to binge on chocolate after point one and two occurred.

“And hello to you too,” Jinyoung dryly greeted, not even moving from his desk to check on you.

“I’m dead, don’t bother me,” you spoke from within his pillow, wondering if you tried hard enough if you could actually become one with the furniture.

“Oh, I didn’t realise you’re dead,” your best friend continued, closing what sounded like a book and then pushed his chair back. “The dead sure can move into my dorm room quickly. Did you even use the door or did you apparate here?”

“Not funny.”

“Nor is your interruption. What do you want?”

Scowling as you finally lifted your head out from his pillow, you were met back with a similar look from Jinyoung. You huffed indignantly. “Even my best friend can’t help me in my time of need.”

“I asked what you wanted.”

“Peace. To escape. Everything’s a mess.”

“That’s not surprising when it comes to you,” he agreed and you gaped at Jinyoung, sitting up and pointing at him.

“Don’t you have a conscious?!”

“I have a conscious desire to kick you out when I’m trying to study for my thesis,” he bit back and you flung your legs off the bed and stood up, waggling a finger in his direction.

“Never ask me for help again!”

“When have I asked you for any?” Jinyoung questioned and you opened your mouth, only to close it. You repeated this until a smug smile crossed his lips. “Because I don’t live in a dramatic world like you do.”

“Sue me for having more going for me!”

He glowered and you cringed. “Take it back or get out.”

“Okay, so fine. You’re stable, I’m not. That’s what you like about us anyway. When you feel like being reckless you can rely on me. And when I need grounding, you’re always there. So ground me. Or I might just float off to heaven right now.” Jinyoung smirked. “Are you sure you’d end up there?”

“Stop berating me and be a friend, Park Jinyoung! I need you, okay!”

“Fine.” Throwing a leg over the other, Jinyoung folded his arms across his chest and waited expectantly.

You took a deep breath and began to relay your issues.

It wasn’t as if you hadn’t tried to solve them yourself first. You had asked for the extension on your assignment, given you had a family emergency, but that hadn’t been accepted. And like the evil witch she was, your lecturer hadn’t even taken into account the grievances you had faced and submitted alongside your essay.

She had left a less than stellar C- on the grading slot, the worst mark you had ever received.

Afterwards, you had misread the situation with your crush, blurting out in the cafeteria that you liked him. Mark had brushed you off politely, if rejection could ever be described as such.

When that was all said and done, you had eaten so much chocolate as you cried that you had felt sick for the entire following day.

Even if you told yourself you deserved better, you had concluded that it was in your nature to suffer like this. Another season of poor results both personally and academically.

You feared what it would be like when you left this institution and failed to get a job in the industry you wanted to, starving out on the street because you couldn’t even afford rent.

Jinyoung merely sat there when you had finished and then rolled his eyes. “As if you would starve.”

“I could!”

“You would mooch off of me.”

“Mooch?! I’m having a crisis and you play me like this?”

“You’re as dramatic as Jackson can be. Why didn’t you confess to him instead?” Jinyoung quipped and you groaned.

“You don’t take me seriously!”

“Because you don’t care to do the same for yourself, Y/N. You are acting like it’s the end of the world. You almost failed Math in high school but here you are studying in one of the best universities. Not only that, but you also received multiple acceptance letters and got to choose where you went. Not everyone is that lucky.”

“Only because of my creative writing. I’m on a scholarship, in case you’ve forgotten. A C-minus affects that!”

“So make a more rigid study program. You can recover with the next essay if you put in enough effort. You are good at working under pressure. Show that witch what you’re worth.”

“You think?”

Jinyoung sighed heavily. “As for Mark, how many times did I tell you he’s not interested in dating anyone? He merely hooks up with girls. And you let him hook up with you that one time and got it into your head you could change him.”

“Well, he was kind to me afterwards.”

“Who burns a bridge they could cross again if they need to?” Jinyoung retorted and your mouth fell ajar.

“Don’t eat so much chocolate next time. Go for a run or even a walk. Exercise will not only clear your mind but allow you to feel the same effect.”

“How does exercise comfort you?”

“One, your body won’t hate you for too much of it,” he pointed out and you nodded glumly. “And why didn’t you tell me any of this until now?”

“Because you told me not to interrupt you studying for your thesis.” Jinyoung’s eyebrow shot up with amusement as he gestured to your presence now. You laughed awkwardly. “I needed you.”

“Do you?” he asked softly, turning back for his desk. “I don’t know if you truly need me.”

“Who else is going to save me from starving on the streets?” you attempted loosely, noticing he didn’t laugh back. “Jinyoung?”

“One, I got a good grade on my last assignment but I never got excited about it like you do. Two, I’ve never confessed about how I feel for anyone because I worry they won’t like me the way I do them. Three, maybe chocolate isn’t so bad. At least you let your emotions out whilst eating it.”

“Why are you talking me up like this? I’d much rather be like you.”

Jinyoung smiled wistfully. “The feeling’s mutual.”

“You want to hook up with Mark Tuan?” you offered and Jinyoung rolled his eyes. Moving over to hug your best friend, you smiled encouragingly at him. “If you want chocolate, I’ll give you my stash. I’m on a no chocolate month.”

“You won’t last a week.”

“Give me credit, I could last two,” you corrected with a laugh, nestling your head into his chest. As his arms encased your body firmly, you sighed in content. This is what you had come here for. If there was one person on this earth that you knew could make you feel better and less erratic as he held you, it was Jinyoung.

You wouldn’t trade him in for anything this world had to offer.

Nuzzling his broad chest until you found the perfect spot for your head to rest, you smiled. “Jinyoung, you should confess when you feel strongly about people. Anyone would be grateful to have such an amazing human as their partner.”

“Even you?”

“Of course! I’m the luckiest person right now since I’m in your arms. I bet there’s a bunch of girls who would love to be in my position just waiting for their chance.”

“I don’t want them though,” he murmured. “Just you.”

“Well, here I am,” you answered, renewing your hugging position and sighing again with the comfort. However, Jinyoung stopped breathing and his chest turned rigid. You looked up at him. “What is it?”

“I want you,” he repeated, smiling softly. “I’ve never confessed because you always friend-zone me.”

“Wait, what?”

“I like you. Have for years. Who else would put up with how your mood swings from one end of the scale to the other? You’re crazy, Y/N. But you’re my crazy. Of course, I wouldn’t let you suffer because I’m always thinking about you.”

“Oh.”

“Are you going to reject me politely now?” Jinyoung edged, his dark eyes now removing the vulnerable expression that had resided there with his confession.

“Why are you always so slow when it comes to things like this?!” you complained and Jinyoung frowned. “I crushed on you so badly when I was ten. I even cried to my Mum about how handsome you were and how ugly I was!”

“You have never been ugly, Y/N.”

“And then you took Lisa to the formal instead of me in our first year at high school. Do you know how upset I was with you?! I had been hinting at you to buy a purple tie for it for three months all because my dress was purple!”

“You did?” Jinyoung started to frown.

You stomped your foot in annoyance. “And after finally getting over my crush on you since I’m now an adult and shouldn’t keep thinking of you that way, you confess?! Wow, why is my life like this.”

“I’m still trying to understand about you liking me first. That’s impossible. I know you inside and out.”

“I have loved you for years!” Letting him go, you waved your arms around excessively. “Why are you telling me this now?!”

“Will you not accept it?”

“Of course I will, but ugh, I’m just a mess! Back then I had the excuse of still growing up if you so much as liked me back. What can I give you now?!”

“Honestly?” Jinyoung breathed and shook his head, his lips spreading into a smile. Taking you back in his arms, he held you firmly. “Your heart, that’s what you can give me.”

“That’s all you want? What about an elegant partner who doesn’t disappoint you and isn’t clumsily making her way through life?”

“If I wanted all that, would I love you as much as I do?” Jinyoung teased and you thumped his arm as he chuckled into you. “Oh, I do want one other thing.”

“What?” you asked dejectedly and then blinked as Jinyoung’s hand curled around your chin so you would look up at him. You began to pout.

“Stop pouting and kiss me,” he instructed, leaning in to meet your lips. It wasn’t your first kiss; that you had given him in a game of truth or dare when you were thirteen.

But unlike that one, which had been a little more than a peck, this one continued until he had stolen your breath entirely.

Panting, Jinyoung pulled away and then rested his forehead on yours. He smiled. “Still feeling like life is hopeless and you need to give up?”

“Hm?” You blinked a few times and then smiled giddily. “You need to not let me go. I’m certain this time I will float away to heaven if you keep kissing me like that.”

“Even if you go there, I’ll be right beside you,” he confirmed, leaning in to kiss you again.

_________________

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[hopelikethemoon]

The Gift (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: The Gift Rating: PG-13 Length: 2200 Warnings: None.  Notes: You can find the Maybe Today, Maybe Forever Timeline here. Set in January 1997. This is part of the “big angst” that will be covered over this weekend and Monday.  Summary: Reader considers the gift Javier gave her. 

Taglist:  @grapemama  @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes​@thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow​@hiscyarika @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501​@fioccodineveautunnale​  @roxypeanut @just-add-butter @snivellusim​@amarvelousmandalorian @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts​@synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper​@awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie @swhiskeys @lady-tano​ @beskar-droids​ @space-floozy @ct-arc-5555​ @cable-kenobi​

“Do I really want to open this can of worms?” You questioned, running your hand over the subtle curve of your stomach. “I think your daddy really wants me to.” You sighed heavily and sank back in your office chair. Your gaze flickered towards the stack of manila envelopes sitting on top of your file sorter. They had been sitting, right there, since your first day back after Laredo. 

You had gotten Javier an engraved ring; the day you met, your birthdate, his, Josie’s, and enough room for the new baby’s birthdate. Javier had gotten you a stack of FOIA’d files from the DEA. Every mention of your name on the Pablo Escobar case. Every contribution you made to the Cali Cartel investigation. Buried within that bundle of files was also, as Javier had explained, incriminating evidence that the DEA had intentionally concealed your efforts. 

Swallowing thickly, you pulled one of the files off the sorter. You bent the metal clasp straight and pulled it open. Your teeth dug into your bottom lip as you stared down at the painfully familiar letter heading.

Colombia felt like a lifetime ago. 

That last year with the DEA had been a living hell. 

Working for the Miami PD had been a breath of fresh air. You had a team that supported you, supervisors who respected you and valued you… You never had that with the DEA. Javier and Steve had been the only two at the DEA who seemed to give a shit what you said. You spent your entire career working five times harder than every man, only to get an eighth of the credit. 

Or none.

You got up out of your chair, heading over to shut the door to your office, pulling the blinds shut on the little glass window. You sank back down in your seat, staring at the stack of neatly stacked papers that had been tucked into the folder.

Five folders symbolized the culmination of years of effort. From 1987 to 1993. 

You leaned forward and pressed the speaker button on your desk phone, before clicking the speed dial button for Javier’s office. It rang once before he picked up, his voice exactly what you needed to hear right then. “Hello?”

“Hey, Javi.” 

“Hey baby, I was just thinking about you.” Javier said warmly. “What’s up?”

“I finally opened the files and... “ You laughed quietly, “I guess I’m a little hormonal right now.” You rubbed under your eyes as you looked down at the top sheet of paper. “Just seeing my name and the DEA is… blast from the past.”

“You were the best goddamn agent they ever had in Colombia. And you know it.” 

“Of course I know it.” You rolled your eyes. “I had to put up with you and Murph. I had to be good.”

“You took down Carlos Lehder on your second day, baby. Do you have any idea how many years that asshole spent evading US forces? Second day and you fucking bag him. How many years has it been? Cause I’m still proud of you for that.”

You felt your cheeks warm under his praise. Your fingers trembled as you flipped through the pages. “What were you thinking that night?”

“Hmm?”

“At the bar. I still remember this look you had… I couldn’t figure it out.” You recalled, brows furrowed as you flipped to a page of reports that had Javier’s horrible handwriting printed between the margins. 

“You really wanna know?”

“Sure.” You looked towards the phone. “Was it good?”

“Well, yeah.” Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth and chuckled. “What do you think I was thinking about, baby?”

“I figured as much.” You grinned, rubbing at the back of your neck as you settled back in your chair. “Damn… jealous since day one. Javier, have you always had a heart?” 

“If you hadn’t been so fucking… you.” Javi huffed softly. 

A comfortable silence fell between you as you shuffled through the pages, you could hear the soft inhale and exhales coming from him on the other side of the line. You wished he were there with you, flipping through years of work together. But he’d gifted them to you to do with as you wished. 

“You trust this journalist?”

“He uncovered the whole Tailhook Convention scandal.” Javier sighed heavily. “And that was a shit show.”

“Yeah. I remember reading about it.” Trust the Pentagon to try to cover up a massive sexual assault scandal among their good ole boys. “So he’s good. He’s not afraid to get his hands dirty, but… is my story even that important?”

“Baby…” 

“I’m just one agent that got royally fucked over by the DEA. Doesn’t it seem a little narcissistic to think I’m so important that I need to have my name printed?” 

“Steve told me.”

“Told you what?”

Your heart sank. 

Javier sighed. “After you left the bar that night. I didn’t realize what he was doing, but in hindsight… I get it now.” He was silent for a moment, before he continued. “You wanted to make a name for yourself. That’s what you told him, right?”

“I mean… Yeah.” You tucked the files back into the folder and reached for the second, peeling it open and dumping them out. There was a stack of square photos with a rubber band wrapped around them. Pictures from stakeouts, late nights… Steve was always documenting everything. He loved that goddamn camera. 

They always had to go into the case files, except for a few you had stolen. “I mean… that’s why I volunteered for Colombia. No one else was crazy enough to go there and I thought… that’s my shot.” 

“And it was. You could’ve had it all, baby. But I—”

“Were the best partner a girl could ask for, Javi. You and Steve were so good at your jobs.” You smiled wistfully down at a picture of the three of you. You had Javier’s aviators on and were wedged in between the two of them. “I wouldn’t trade what we have for anything. I don’t need my name in the history books.” 

“But what about everyone else? What about Josie and the baby? What if they want to follow in their mother’s footsteps.” 

“God, I hope they don’t want to be DEA.” You laughed, “Good parents don’t let their kids grow up to be feds.” 

“You’re avoiding the topic.” 

“If we start this, we have no idea where it’ll go, Javi. An article like this… it’ll have ramifications.” You cautioned. “Everything with the DEA comes at a cost.” 

“This was your dream.” Javier pressed. “They cut you out. Completely. You know it, I know it, Steve knows it…” He sighed heavily. “Just call the guy. See where he wants to take this. He already knows the jist of this shit.” 

“I know.” You sat the photos aside and went through a stack of neatly typed notes that you had taken towards the end of the case. Some of the last stakeouts the three of you went on together. Good memories. Really good memories. 

“What do we do, Javi? Do we tell them everything? You, me… the kids? There’s a lot more to this story than just me being cut out.” You pushed your fingers through your hair. “And Steve…”

“Knows what I got you for Christmas. He helped me get them FOIA’d.” Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth and you wished you could see his face. “He’s willing to burn the place down, baby. Just say the word.”

“What is he going to do?” You questioned. “They’ve got two little girls.” 

“He’s got plans to open his own consulting firm. He’s playing it by ear.” Javier told you, “He’s not thrilled with the DEA either.” He sighed heavily, “I’ve got this faculty meeting in a couple minutes, but… Do you want to meet for lunch at Demetrio?”

You tucked the files back away in the envelope, picking up the business card with the journalist’s name on it. “Yeah. Lunch sounds like a good idea. I think I’m gonna call this guy…”

“I’m proud of you.”

“I know you are.”

 ——

 You passed your menu to the waiter, offering him a polite smile, “I’ll just do the omelet. You can put the sausage on a side plate for him.”

“Something besides water?”

“Hot tea. Breakfast.” You looked towards Javier who was still mulling over the menu. “You know you like their Monte Cristo, just order that.”

“I’m not sure if I want sweet.” Javier rubbed at the back of his neck. 

“The spicy eggs were good.” You recalled, taking the menu from him and looking it over. “Spicy Morning.” You pointed it out to Javier. “Something like that?” You gave the waiter a sympathetic smile. 

“I’ll do the empanada special.” Javier finally decided, “Coffee instead of tea.” 

You rolled your eyes after the waiter left, “Really? I thought you hate how their empanadas were made.” 

He shrugged, scratching at his jaw. “I’m willing to give them a second chance.” Javier looked towards you then, “Are we going to do this?” 

“I think I’m ready.” You chewed on your bottom lip as you reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “I called him. We spoke a little and… I felt good about it?” 

Javier held your gaze, “You can stop at any time.” 

“I know I can, but… I do think this is the right thing to do. Someone has to stop it, right? And I mean… They’ve got assholes like Chris working for them, but me? I get the ax? It’s bullshit.” You squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”

He rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand, “So it was a good Christmas gift?”

You laughed, “I know I didn’t seem very appreciative.” You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “But I am.” 

God were you glad he had suggested exchanging gifts in private. Opening a box to find a stack of manila envelopes containing the sum of your efforts in Colombia had not been your ideal gift. It was one of the few times you’d raised your voice — and you couldn’t really do that with Chucho sleeping down the hall. 

It wasn’t until Javier gave you the chance to calm down that you realized just how profound the gift had been. Two years ago you had come completely unglued because of the DEA. Finding out that your name had been struck from every file had been a painful realization. Javier had listened to you, remembered it, and worked to find a way to rectify it. 

If you had any doubts about how he felt about you, that gift would’ve made it abundantly clear. But you knew how he felt about you, about the life you shared with him. It had been a remarkably thoughtful gift. 

“I’m just scared.” You admitted to him, rubbing your lips together thoughtfully. “We both know what happens when you go up against the government. They are ruthless.” 

“I know, baby.” Javi squeezed your hand three times, before you both had to make room for the waiter’s return with the drinks. He sat Javier’s coffee down in front of him and your tea in front of you. 

“Thanks.”

“Can I get you anything else?”

“We’re good, thank you.” You smiled, before looking back to Javier. “You know, when I got into the government — the DEA — I never pictured myself going down this path. Calling journalists, setting up tell-alls.” You curled your fingers around your mug, 

“When I went to Colombia, I didn’t think I’d come home with a family.” Javier rubbed at the back of his neck as he took a sip of coffee. 

You nudge his foot under the table. “Me neither.” You shook your head with a laugh. “We should fuck with them next Christmas. Send the Bogotá office a Christmas card with the four of us.” You stroked the curve of your belly. “The reporter had a lot of questions about us.”

“Really?”

You nodded with a sheepish grin. “I guess the human interest side of the story has some appeal.” You tapped your foot against his ankle. “I’m sure there will be scrutiny about us. We work together for what? Five years? Did nothing really happen before Steve left?” You rolled your eyes.

“We had tremendous self-control.” Javier chuckled, shaking his head as he scratched at the side of his jaw. “You don’t think they’d believe that?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “The thought of living in a fishbowl is a little terrifying. I already had the DEA turning over every aspect of my life.” You pressed your tongue to the inside of your cheek, looking away. 

“How bad did it get?”

“Oh, they looked to see if I had any impropriety prior to Colombia. But,” You snapped your fingers and shot finger guns at Javier. “You were the only partner I was ever involved with… well, I mean Lance was working with the DEA. Does he count?”

Javier rocked his jaw and huffed. “I don’t think he counts.” 

“That’s because you don’t like thinking about me with him.” You raised your brows, giving him a look. “I should probably call him and tell him about this article.”

“Do you talk?”

You shook your head, “Not since that day he was at the office. But I don’t want him blindsided.” You brushed the topic aside. “Are we really ready to face Colombia like this, Javi? I mean, this isn’t something small. This is The Washington Post… front page.”

“I’m ready if you’re ready, baby.” 

“I think I am.” 

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal x reader

[depressedkakashihatake-fics]

Forgiveness

Hatake Kakashi/Maito Gai

Kakagai Week Day 2- Prompt: Forgiveness

AU: Mafia Au

Edited by: @mireleth

Three days.

For three days Gai hadn’t said a single word to him. No ‘good mornings’ or ‘good nights’, nothing when Kakashi would try to talk to him about the new job that Shikaku had given him, and not even a ‘thank you’ when he brought Gai his favorite doughnut from the coffee shop he stopped at every morning.

Not a peep. It was starting to worry him. Gai always loved talking. Telling him stories about the things he did growing up with his dad, getting other people from the communities that they would visit to talk to him. It was Gai’s favorite pastime to get Kakashi to talk, or to at least fill in the silence between them as much as possible.

But ever since he had gotten back from taking care of some personal business, Gai had been silent.

As his partner finished making the trade that Shikaku had sent them to do, closing the small bag of money and tossing it over to Kakashi without even looking at him, Kakashi watched as a small smile tugged at the corner of Gai’s lips.

“It was good doing business with you,” he said with the same cheerful voice he used to talk to everyone. It didn’t matter if they were another member of Shikaku’s gang or someone whose arm he was about to break, Gai always kept that cheerful, happy voice of his. “Do try to tell your partners not to shoot at us. I think all of them would like to live through today.”

Well, that was certainly new. Gai usually wasn’t the one to throw threats around like that. He usually preferred to leave that particular job up to Kakashi. Maybe it was just another way to show his partner just how upset he was with him?

Seeing his partner turn his back to the other man, Kakashi moved to follow. His hand reached down to his side in a flash and unholstered his gun just as three figures sprang out into the open from their various hiding places all around the room. Within seconds, all three of them were dead on the ground, and for once Gai didn’t even flinch when the sound of gunfire echoed in the small room.

Something was definitely wrong, and he wasn’t sure he could wait around any longer to see if Gai would just ‘get over it’ like he originally hoped.

Holstering his weapon, he followed Gai out of the building and to the car that had brought them to the meet up location. It wasn’t preferable for him to have to talk to Gai about whatever was going on while there was another person driving them around, but it seemed like the only option he had. As soon as they got back to Shikaku’s mansion Gai was going to disappear into his room just as he had done the past two days.

He couldn’t let that happen.

As soon as he had crawled into the car behind Gai, Kakashi slammed the door shut behind him and reached out towards the controls for the small window between the back of the car, and the front where the driver was.

“Five minutes,” he assured the driver when he glared back at Kakashi. For some reason he was always so uneasy with the idea of Kakashi closing the window between them to have a personal conversation with Gai. Almost like he thought something was going to happen.

Not that Kakashi would say no if Gai decided to try and get him naked, but that didn’t seem likely in his current situation.

Once the driver had given him a quick nod of his head, Kakashi pushed down on the button and watched as the window between them closed. With that done he turned his attention to Gai.

“Are we going to talk yet?” Gai returned his question with a blank stare. “Come on, Gai. It has been three days. The fact that you’ve managed to keep quiet more than an hour is already impressive, are you going for a record?”

No response.

“Gai, whatever it is that has you so upset, spit it out,” he demanded with a low growl. “We can’t keep working together if you’re not even going to talk to me!”

Gai snapped. That was the only way Kakashi could describe it. The sudden shift from disinterest to pure rage when his eyes finally met Kakashi’s was terrifying. He had never seen Gai look so furious at someone.

“You want to talk about working together? You? The guy who left without so much as a word and disappeared for two weeks!?” Kakashi’s heart sank. Was that what this was all about? Did Gai think…

Giving his head a shake, Kakashi lowered his eyes. “That wasn’t your job to do. It was mine. I had to do it alone.”

“No, you didn’t,” Gai snarled. A deep, angry sound that Kakashi had never heard him make before. It terrified him. “I am your partner. I’m supposed to be by your side for every job. Even ones Shikaku doesn’t clear you for.”

“That’s not…” His hands came down to rest on his legs, fingers twisting in the soft black fabric of his pants. “It wasn’t a job, Gai. I didn’t get paid for it. No-one asked me to do it. It was something I had to do, alone.”

“No, you chose to do it alone,” Gai clarified, the anger still dripping in his words. “You decided that you couldn’t trust me by your side. That I’d just be in the way…”

“No!” The car came to a hard stop, and for once Kakashi was glad that he had chosen to wear his seatbelt or he would have gone flying into the other side of the vehicle. He was about to yell at the driver when the window between them began to open, but he wasn’t quick enough. Instead Gai leaned forward and smacked his hand down on the ‘close’ button, glaring at the driver as the window shut once more.

With their privacy returned to them, Kakashi took a deep breath and raised his eyes to meet Gai’s once more.

“I chose to go alone because it was my obligation,” he explained with a stern voice. “My closure. If I had brought you with me all I would have been doing is putting you in needless danger.”

“And if you had asked me I would have told you that I would gladly go with you to make sure you came out alive.” Kakashi tried to divert his gaze, but as soon as his eyes left Gai a hand came up to rest against his cheek. With a small push, Gai forced him to look back at those angry eyes. “Two weeks, Kakashi. Two weeks with no call, no messages. I thought you were…”

Anger shattered, exposing the sadness that Gai had been hiding. It broke Kakashi’s heart to see it. The usually bright and happy eyes looking at him with such a broken expression. The result of the damage he had done to his partner with his actions.

“If you had died out there and the last thing I had ever said to you was ‘don’t forget my doughnut’, I would never forgive myself.” Gai’s thumb started to stroke his cheek. The feeling managed to centre Kakashi in a moment that felt so broken and confusing. “I know why you went. I know why this was important to you, Kakashi. Shikaku told me everything.”

Of course he had. Shikaku had never been one to let Kakashi keep his secrets if he decided that someone needed to know about them, and Gai needed to know. Gai, who was clearly upset and broken by Kakashi’s choice to disappear without a trace, and who had no idea why.

“What would you say?” Kakashi asked, leaning into Gai’s hand and keeping his eyes focused on that beautiful calm face that he loved so much. “If you had known that I was going into a situation where I might not come out alive, but there was nothing you could do to stop me. What would you say, Gai? Stop? Please don’t? Would you try to tell me that it wasn’t worth it?”

Maybe he’d be right. Perhaps finding the man who had killed his father really wasn’t worth it. After all, it was just a hired hit man. Someone who was given money to take out the local Police Chief. He held no real power or influence.

It probably wasn’t worth it, but he had still felt the need to do it. To seek out some closure in making sure that the bastard never got to kill another person in front of their kid again. That no-one had to live the nightmare that continued to haunt him to this day.

“I love you.”

The words caught him off guard. Of all the things that Gai could have said to him at that moment, this was the last thing that he expected.

“If I had thought what I said to you that day two weeks ago might be my last words to you ever, I would have told you how much I love you. How amazing and strong I think you are, and how I would do anything to make sure you come home alive.”

For the first time in three days Kakashi finally understood why Gai was so angry at him. It wasn’t just about leaving without a word, or seemingly not having the trust in his partner to have his back. Those were certainly influences in Gai’s anger and he had made that much clear already, but the hurt that he displayed at the thought of never getting to see Kakashi again and knowing that he never got to say those words to him.

That spoke volumes.

Raising his hand, Kakashi rested it over Gai’s and gently curled his fingers around it. There wasn’t anything he could think of that would make it up to Gai. Something that would take away those two weeks of panic and worry that he must have experienced, not knowing what was going on. Whether Kakashi was alive or dead.

But that wasn’t what he wanted to say.

He wasn’t sorry for leaving. For keeping Gai safe both from danger and from having to see the bloodbath that Kakashi left behind. Gai wouldn’t have been able to handle everything that Kakashi had done during those two weeks of absence, and it wasn’t fair to expect him to just so that Kakashi had someone watching his back.

“I’m sorry.” The words were barely audible, but he could tell that Gai heard them from the way his face softened. “I’m sorry I took that away from you. That you had to think you’d never get to say those words to me.”

It probably wasn’t the apology that Gai was looking for, but his thumb still continued to gently graze along Kakashi’s cheek so he hadn’t said something terribly offensive.

Bringing Gai’s hand forward, Kakashi leaned in and gently pressed a kiss to the back of his hand. A silent apology that he hoped Gai heard. One that he wasn’t quite able to put into words.

I’m sorry for worrying you.

“Just don’t do it again, please,” Gai begged. “I don’t want to lose you, Kakashi.”

Thinking about it, Kakashi lowered his and Gai’s hands between them and slowly leaned in close, pressing a gentle kiss against Gai’s lips. “Never again.” A soft promise against Gai’s lips. “By the way,” he moved back, smiling softly when Gai looked at him with confusion, “I love you too.”

#Hatake Kakashi #Maito Gai #Kakagai #Hatake Kakashi/Maito Gai #Poor boys #they just need to love each other XD #Mafia Au #Kakagai week #Kakagaiweek #Kkgweek #Kakagai week 2020

[uhforfuckssake]

Holbeck: A Case Study of Hell — FiLiA

By Dr Em

Holbeck is a case study of hell. It is misogyny and objectification in the legal system, a triumph of men’s rights activists. Alan Caton, the detective who led the investigation into the murders of five prostituted women in Ipswich in 2006 and subsequently led the strategy to put an end to street prostitution in Ipswich is highly critical of the Leeds ‘managed approach’. Canton is clear that ‘I totally disagree with it’ he is of the opinion that ‘it plays right into the hands of pimps and abusers of women, and turns a blind eye to the most vulnerable people in our society. It allows men to carry on in their misogynistic ways, to abuse and exploit women who are out on the street selling sex’.1 Canton added that ‘The demand is there in this country because men are allowed unfettered to buy sex from women, to do what they want to them’.2 ‘Because that demand is never quelled, people will use all sorts of criminal avenues to traffic and exploit women. It's all about tackling that demand, telling men it's not acceptable to buy women and abuse them in that way’.3 In Holbeck human trafficking is rebranded as ‘migration for sex work’, paedophilia and child molestation becomes ‘under-age sex work’, rape becomes ‘a disputed sale’.

If one wants to know how unempowering the situation is for prostituted women and girls, one needs only read the punter reviews. Yes – reviews – like one would review a restaurant or hotel. Men describe their experiences to each other using degrading language and slang. For example, women likely trafficked from Romania are known as ‘Roms’, from Poland, ‘EE’, while men bemoan their lack of English or desire to participate, and the presence of pimps. Other men get a sexual kick out of the fact that the women and girls are disengaged. ‘Howaboutit’ related how:

‘i've had a few girls from down Holbeck - usually pass through at about 5am on a saturday morning. Always at least 1 or 2 around, as mentioned above, some are horrors!… total lack of interest while i had her in missionary.. but that kind of turns me on. Bored and checking her texts while i unload bare inside her!!’.4

One particular poster uses the moniker ‘Yorkshireripper’, referencing the serial killer Peter Sutcliffe who murdered prostituted women in Leeds during the 1970s. ‘Many of his attacks came after he had cruised the streets looking for victims, and the area’s reputation as a red light district meant that it was easier for him to persuade women to get into his car while soliciting’.5 ‘Yorkshireripper’ described one prostituted woman thus:

‘she looks a shit fuck based on that video [an uploaded porn film taken during street ‘sex work’] but I just think there's something about her being a really lowlife desperate dirty prostitute with such a shit background who's cunt has had many hundreds of hard cocks up her … that makes me want to empty my filth in her, just for the thrill of it’.6

‘Yorkshireripper’ had actually gone in search of potentially underage girls that night, he informed the other men that ‘I was seeking teenagers or under 25s’.7 ‘Yorkshireripper’ likes to negotiate the already low prices down further, he particularly likes bad weather as a means of creating more desperation in the women. He outlined how he:

‘went for a little scouting mission myself last night, first time in a few months due to reports of increased surveillance by anti whore brigade. Was a cold, wet and rainy night which is my favourite time as it seems gives you that extra cover of visibility and offers a quick respite from the cold as an incentive to the girls when your knocking down the price’.8

The women are looked upon as objects which the men can use, abuse, consume and collect. One ‘Richard1982’ described how ‘Of all the girls I've picked up she's the only one I haven't bb'd [had sex without a condom] so I want to collect the full set lol’.9 And the ‘sex work is work’ champions claim it is empowering for women. Do you feel empowered after reading that? Alan Caton, the detective who led the investigation into Stephen Wright who murdered five prostituted women in Ipswich in 2006 has related that “When I asked the [men] about it, they said: ‘I am paying for it, I can do what I want.’ That helped me form the view over time that this is not right. Men should not be able to exploit and abuse women in that way”.

DESPERATION & DRUGS

Holbeck creates a desperate cycle which we see trapping prostituted women across the world. Drugs and prostitution become a ‘chicken and egg’ problem. Women enter the trade to fund their, or their partner’s, drug addiction and then require more drugs to cope with what they are experiencing. Drugs become a means to endure male violence. While talking about Holbeck, Jenni described how she ‘gave up drugs to get out of the ‘managed’ red light zone – it was too dangerous’.11 Julie Bindel stated that in the opinion of one exited survivor of Holbeck ‘Her biggest criticism of the managed zone is the failure to offer women a route out of a world where drugs are rife’.12 Jenni discussed how “All the girls are down there because they’re dependent on drugs. I don’t believe it’s their choice to do it,” she says. “The key is to stop the drug use and it will stop the girls having to work for drugs”.13 Charles Hymas and Corinne Redfern reported how in Holbeck, it ‘was the sight of a prostitute injecting drugs into her groin on the backseat of a car in full view of residents in the neat terraced street in Beeston, Leeds, that convinced artist Claire Bentley-Smith it was time to act’.14 In 2019 'A woodland of suffering' was discovered by a mum-of-two dropping her children off at school which revealed a ‘sex worker's’ 'home' next to a Leeds primary school.15The drug litter is a constant in the area and a sharp reminder that allowing men to buy women on the street is ineffective at tackling the women’s drug addiction. In one clean-up of one small wooded area it took more than 20 vans to remove mounds of waste from a 'needle and condom hotspot' in Holbeck.16

Then men purchasing the women know they are desperate and many are addicts. One ‘Munterhunter’ said of the prostituted women in Holbeck that:

‘in most cases it's to feed a drug addiction or because some pimp is telling them "go and earn me 200 quid tonight".

I know that a large number of street prostitutes have serious drug habits my mate's wife works with a project which operates all over the UK working with street prostitutes and the biggest challenge they face is drugs. My mate is a support worker working with people on drug rehab and community punishment orders from the courts his wife works for a national organisation working with street prostitutes’.17

Yet he was undeterred from buying women. Mark Edmonds has outlined how in Holbeck, ‘there are no sanctions and no risk of conviction. Widespread drug-taking — sadly an integral part of the lives of many of these women, who have often been abused as teenagers and are subsequently used by pimps who see them as no more than a commodity — is also tolerated, under a scheme that costs local taxpayers £200,000 per year to run’.18 A BBC documentary highlighted the link between drug addiction and prostitution. In the documentary Sammie-Jo described how she ‘has been forced to work as a prostitute in the red-light district of Holbeck in Leeds to fund her addiction’.19 Yet still the ‘sex work is work’ lobby talk about women choosing this.

Safety and Violence

The ‘sex work is work’ pimp lobby and men’s sexual rights activists argue that prostitution should be decriminalised to make it safer for those being sold. Holbeck, and other examples such as in the Netherlands, shows this is false.20 It makes it more dangerous for the women being sold and other women in the area. In 2015, within months of the ‘managed approach’ zone in Holbeck becoming operational Daria Pionko was murdered by a punter.21 Julie Bindel spoke to one Holbeck prostitute who told her: ‘Because [the men] can’t get arrested, they think they can do anything they like. I’ve been raped, and one man urinated on me once and then took a photo’.22 With the first year of the ‘managed approach’ figures released by police show complaints of rape almost trebled … and have remained significantly higher than before’.23Alongside this, rapes are under-reported as the police and courts do not take it seriously, particularly if the woman is prostituted. On the 7th September 2018 Holbeck residents, David and Calum, reported stopping a rape of a prostituted woman. They stated that while walking home through Holbeck after they had finished work at a club they heard a woman’s voice calling for help. They ‘saw a man trying to strangle a woman. He released her as soon as we approached and she ran towards us… she’s a sex worker and he’s a punter. The fight was about condoms. He wanted her to have sex without a condom… but she refused’.24 The fetish killer, Donald Sheridan, who the council and probation service decided to house in the managed zone in Holbeck while he was on parole, told police in an interview regarding his abduction and attempted rape of a woman in Holbeck in 2019 that ‘he still experiences urges to rape and murder women, especially strangling them, and he had recently felt the urge to strangle an older sex worker after using her services’.25

The frequency of sex attacks on women in the small area of Holbeck was highlighted in 2019 when there were three sex attacks within 36 hours. Samantha Gildea and Kristian Johnson reported that ‘A female sex worker was assaulted by a male client in Shafton Lane on Sunday afternoon, then in the evening, a woman was grabbed on a footpath near Kenneth Street in an attempted rape at around 5.30pm. A third incident was reported to officer after a woman was physically assaulted in Holbeck Moor Park at around 10.15pm last night’.26 Julie Bindel interviewed ‘Sammy, who was pimped on her 17th birthday straight into the zone by her “boyfriend”, who told her that the police “don’t give a fuck about the women”. Sammy said that “One night I was screaming my head off when a nasty punter got really rough with me, but these two coppers just walked past’.27 Another prostituted woman, Jenni, told Chris Hymas and Bindel of ‘the constant threat of robbery, sex tourism, exploitation by traffickers, and women so desperate for drugs they sold sex for just £10’.28 Hymas and Bindel reported that ‘the zone, designed to crack down on pimping, was in reality a magnet for men seeking to exploit the women by charging them for protection’.29 Jenni described how “There were loads of young lads who were basically glorified pimps.. There were more and more attacks before I left, of people coming into the area to rob the girls, knowing they were on their own with money’30. Rather than improve relations between the prostituted woman and the police, the managed approach has caused them to deteriorate and the prostituted women feel even less protected.31 Nevertheless, ‘the council says the increase in crime is due to improved reporting and includes Beeston which is not part of the zone. Others disagree. “It was a disaster from day one,” a senior police officer told The Telegraph on condition of anonymity. “Other criminals came into the area quick as a flash. Drug dealers, pimps, even traffickers that brought the women from Romania’.32

Male violence and rape, and police inaction over these crimes, is also a problem for women and children not in prostitution who live near or enter the Holbeck zone. In 2015, ‘Sally – a young woman with learning disabilities, then aged 17 – was approached at a bus stop in Beeston on a weekday afternoon, bundled into a car, and raped in a nearby home. With DNA evidence, the attacker was quickly arrested and prosecuted in court. However, during a gruelling court case which saw Sally forced into a cross-examination, the defence lawyer argued that his client had simply mistaken Sally for a sex worker, and he walked free’.33 In 2017, Ian Staines, managing director of the Fresco Group, a local business, told the Daily Mail regarding the increase in rapes and sexual assaults that ‘these figures do not surprise me. Female members of our staff feel threatened. The police aren’t interested’.34 In 2018, a Holbeck woman was raped on her way home from work by a group of men who assumed she was a prostitute’.35 In another case of rape in the small Holbeck zone, Ed Carlisle reported of the rape of Alice, a previous victim of domestic abuse, that she had moved into a hostel in Holbeck, where she was repeatedly approached by kerb crawlers. Then in May 2018 ‘a gang of men manhandled her into a car, refused to believe she wasn’t a sex worker, and took her to a nearby house, where one of the men raped her. With DNA evidence, the attacker was quickly arrested, but again (supported by the testimonies of his friends) argued for mistaken identity, and was not even prosecuted’.36 At 4pm Saturday 8th September 2018 a resident reported that ‘my 12 year old daughter walking home from school rang me to tell me she’s just seen a lady being raped! 2 men had her pinned against the wall… one was pulling her knickers off as she screamed. My daughter ran home and I’ve called 999’.37 In November 2018 it was reported to the police and the press that a man tried to buy a baby for an hour in Holbeck. ‘The 47-year-old [woman] was carrying her four-month old grandchild in a pram in the area before the man reportedly said 'Give me an hour with it and I will bring it back'.38 In 2019 a woman claimed that while simply out walking she 'was raped in the street in Holbeck'.39 She did not report this as she thought the police would just say her rapist thought she was a ‘sex worker’ and he would thus walk free. Also in 2019 Donald Sheridan, a convicted fetish murderer, was housed in Holbeck while on parole, and later went on to abduct and strangle a woman until a passer-by intervened.40 The housing of Sheridan in Holbeck highlights how the judiciary and police view the women of Holbeck as dispensable. Susie Beever reported in 2019 how ‘many of the area's female residents feel at risk, preyed upon and "constantly scrutinised". Holbeck has one of the highest recorded crime rates in the entire Leeds South policing ward. There were 161 crimes reported in the area in September alone, of which 51 were classed as violent or sexual offences’.41/sup>

The Save Our Eyes community campaign group set up by residents of Holbeck records their experiences. One resident recorded how ‘My granddaughter was approached at 3.15pm in the afternoon in her school uniform by a punter looking for sex’.42 Another resident shared her experience of how ‘My daughter was followed home from school by a man making rude comments and trying to touch her’.43 13 year old Katy tells the story of how while waiting at a bus stop in a residential street adjoining the Holbeck managed zone on a Saturday morning with her mum ‘A man came up to us and said “Are you working?” My mum was confused and asked what he meant. He replied “Not you! I mean her. Is she working?” and pointed at me. My mum… shouted at him “She’s only 13, she’s a child!” but he wasn’t even bothered. He carried on, “It doesn’t matter about her age. She looks like one (meaning a prostitute)… It’s acceptable on Holbeck to ask”.44 Helen, Katie’s mum, described how ‘the man who wanted to buy her on Saturday argued with me. He felt he had a right to ask any woman in the area for sex’.45

Conclusion

Yet despite all of this evidence and Holbeck conforming to the pattern of other decriminalised areas of prostitution around the world in terms of an increase in crime and danger to women Chief Super Intendent Steve Cotter, of West Yorkshire Police, ‘said the force "remain convinced" the system was working’.46 One wonders how Mr Cotter defines success. Mr Cotter elaborated, that the managed approach in Holbeck ‘provides the best opportunity to safeguard the vulnerable women involved in street sex work, to limit the issues that impact on residents and businesses and to reduce the level of street sex work in Leeds," he said’.47 This is contradicted by reality. Still, a controversial report published in 2020 has claimed that the managed approach in Holbeck has had a positive result. This report’s statements are not supported by the data and the report itself ‘failed to comply with the legal obligations of public bodies to consider the equality impact of their policies and did not properly investigate how the scheme affects local women and children’.48 As Nordic Model Now asserts, ‘Prostitution has been recognized by the United Nations Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination Against Women to be a form of gender-based violence – meaning that not only is prostitution inherently violent, but it is also an intrinsic part of the systemic oppression of women and girls’.49 Why would this be different in Holbeck?

#radical feminism #feminism #sex work is not work #sex work hurts women #sex workers are women too #anti sex industry #link #ref #anti prostitution

[flowercrown-bucky]

Trouble has never looked so good - But then again, it’s never been wearing a push-up bra before.

Fandom: 1970s!Loki Multi-Chapter

Pairing: Loki x ConArtist!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, drug references, later death, later smut, crime, loki and the reader are con artists..... It’s a wild one y’all, hold onto yo’ seats.

Word Count: 3084

[Something Wicked This Way Comes - Chapter One] 

Loki’s life on Asgard has become vapid; uninspiring. He’s got the taste for a little danger. 

During a trip to earth, he finds just the danger he’s looking for.

A partner in crime - in every imaginable sense. 

TAGLIST IS OPEN - EITHER COMMENT OR MESSAGE ME IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE ADDED. 

LIFE on Asgard was unbearably normal.

It was fine. If anything, it was too fine.

There was only so much feasting and so many council meetings one could take, you know?

Loki had stalked off to his chambers, muttering to his brother that he needed time to focus his magic.

He didn't, of course. Odin's lecturing on diplomatic decorum had simply become mind numbingly dull and it seemed like the most suitable excuse.

Loki's chambers were in a prime position. It was, after all, the reason he had coerced his older brother into switching with him when they were both around three hundred years old. He was roughly a hundred yards from the palace kitchens, something that well suited his secret midnight-snacking habit, and about as far from the Allfather and Allmother's chambers as he could possibly be, something that well suited his secret midnight sneaking-out habit.

However, the thing he loved most about his chambers, was the proximity to the palace orchard. If he stepped through the doors onto the balcony, he could grip the railings and sort of kamikaze himself over, before dropping the two-or-so-feet distance between him and the floor, and it was this that had made him want to occupy this chamber so badly.

He'd loved the orchard ever since he was a little boy. It was his safe spot, somewhere he had gone to hide from the world, where nothing could harm him or make him feel anything he didn't want to. He liked to take a book with him, and read under the shade of the apple trees until someone came to retrieve him.

It was here he had considered retreating to when he remembered the girl kneeling between his legs.

She was, Loki believed, a princess of Vanaheim, visiting Asgard with her father. Sex was not something that particularly concerned him, but he had left the council hall feeling rather frustrated, and the remarkably attractive woman had practically thrown herself at him.

If a beautiful woman desired to fellate him, who was he to complain?

It was, however, doing nothing for him - so much so he had forgotten she was even there.

"You can stop now." He wasn't entirely gentle when he tugged her off him, opting to do so with the help of a handful of her hair, but ,hey, he was extremely frustrated and she had been no help in the easing of that frustration.

"I can-"

"Nope." He waved a hand dismissively at the woman, leaving her to gather her clothes and dignity from where they'd been discarded in the floor. Girls were far more his brother's thing.

The only satisfying sexual encounter he had ever had had been on Midgard, some ten years before. Her name was Elizabeth, and she wanted to be an actress. With a head of carefully constructed dark curls and unusual violet coloured eyes, she was positively electrifying. She'd liked Loki's regal manner, assumed he was important. He'd been looking for a way to unwind and had yet to find it in a bottle of whiskey. They had, you might say, used each other equally.

He wondered what she was doing now.

Midgard, however, didn't seem like too bad an idea.

The mortals, he thought, were funny. Their funny little ways, their funny little habits, their funny little emotions.

He rather liked that idea. Midgard it was to be, then.

--

Las Vegas, was perhaps, the worst place he had ever been. Crawling with perhaps the worst specimens humanity had to offer, and drowning in immorality, Vegas was perhaps the physical embodiment of iniquity. 

Perhaps the underbelly of the world, Vegas combined all aspects of bigotry - racism, misogyny, pride. Men traded their lives away to pay to warm the sheets of women condemned to a life of misery, destined to while their days away in some clandestine pact with dingy hotel rooms. 

Not Vegas, Loki thought to himself. 

New York, he was not particularly fond of either. It was much too cold and full of self importance. The people were, largely, cold and unpleasant, and the food was something he could never get behind. 

Europe he had not visited for a long while since. It had been stricken by an unpleasant pox last time he had visited, covering the suffering with boils as large as the palm as his hand. He’d begrudgingly lent his healing skills to the ailing people. After all, he really didn’t like the smell of rotting flesh. 

 He wasn’t altogether pleased with the likenesses the people later formed in the name of worship.

In all honesty, they made him look rather greasy and weaselly.

—

Montecarlo, Loki thought, might be a little more interesting than he'd initially thought. Possibly, his favourite place he'd visited on Midgard.

It was like a hive of temptation, the culmination of human greed. Nowhere on earth quite said luxury like a city dressed to the nines, and Loki loved it.

It was far better than his previous visits, wherein he had found the planet stricken by various bouts of violence and deadly plagues. 

1973, with its penchant for sex, drugs and rock'n'roll was far more to his taste.

He had, in the short time he'd been in the city, become very well acquainted with the calibrate of person who liked to visit. Men with enough class to never let an expletive pass their lips within company, but perfectly happy to snort narcotics off the seats of public toilets using a ten dollar bill that was on its fourth use.

Women loyal enough to remain on the arm of one gentleman for the whole of an evening but not opposed to a quick fuck in a back alley from a tall dark stranger with a mysterious smile.

Sex was not something Loki was particularly concerned with, but he did enjoy the sense of power he got from looking directly into the eyes of a man whose wife he had made come undone not ten minutes earlier.

Humans, he noted, were no different to the savage tribes of Muspelheim. They just hid it better, under expensive clothes and university degrees and layers of makeup.

This was not something he necessarily was bothered by. He was having far too good a time for that.

Casinos, he had taken a real liking to. Money was another thing that held no meaning for him, but cheating pompous assholes out of what they believed was rightfully theirs?

That, he could get behind, and it seemed he was not alone in that.

He had been watching you all evening, as you worked your way around the room.

You were dressed to kill, and the man you'd turned your attentions to looked like he would gladly die if it would please you.

One hand stroking his *ahem* ego, and the other stealing his wallet.

You were perfect.

Mischief was on his agenda, and you looked like a wonderful accomplice.

He'd approached you quietly, a gentle hand on your shoulder, his lips by your ear.

"Well, hello." He'd murmured, as you turned to face him. "Who might you be?"

You'd practically preened at the sudden attention, clearly very pleased with the idea of a second conquest of the evening.

"Darling, I'm your worst nightmare." You bit your red painted lip, your eyes trailing the length of him. Your glance was cold, calculating - pretty much everything Loki appreciated in a woman. 

For a moment, he wondered if you were to kill him, how you would carry out the act. He felt almost as if he would appreciate it. 

You looked like a poisoner, he decided. Less messy, less loose ends to take care of. 

“And what, exactly, does my worst nightmare take to drink?” He could feel the smug grin growing on his face. “I am well acquainted with the torment of the unconscious mind.” 

You were taken aback, that much he could see from your face. For someone so experienced with hustling card games, you did not have much of a poker face. 

His smile grew. Unsettling people was one of his very favourite things.

“Champagne.” You still gnawed at your lip, but the reasoning, he could tell, had changed - if he didn’t know better, he’d think you were quite literally biting back a smile. 

“A lady after my own heart.” He replied. “You have good taste.” 

 “Only the best.” You lifted your glass towards him. 

“I’ll drink to that.” 

-- 

The course of the evening made abundant to Loki exactly how you operated. You were fairly certain you had him in the palm of your hand, that much he could tell - and it was certainly amusing to play along with it. 

You played your role well, and that was something he admired. You allowed him to lead the conversation, showering his ego with praise and affirmation. You fiddled with your hair as you spoke, twisting it around your index finger before draping it over your clavicle, trailing towards your ample bosom. 

You occasionally - intentionally - licked at your lip as you spoke, your tongue coyly tracing your plump bottom lip, tilting your head to the side as if to show how truly intrigued you were by what he was saying, exposing a good deal of neck in the process. 

It truly was a shame, he thought, that mortal men were unable to see the brains, the intellect, behind the beauty - or more specifically, the bust. 

Midgardian men were truly unable to see exactly what they possessed, but on Asgard, you would’ve been celebrated, treasured even, for the power of your mind. 

It was a great pity, Loki thought, and rather unfortunate for their wallets. 

You’d kept him on his toes since you’d first spoken. You were keeping him on his toes now. 

He watched you as you spoke to the woman next to you. You were so careful, every movement deliberate, purposeful. 

You played your part well. In a knee-length blue dress, you largely left the curves of your body to the imagination. The imagination, however, was aided by how the material clung to your hips and your more than ample bosom. Almost every male eye in the room was on you. 

You made your way back over to where he lent on the bar. You seemed to enjoy toying with him. As to why, he could not fathom. 

You waved a bottle of champagne in his face, before topping up his own glass. 

“Consider the favour...” You flashed a smile at him that was utterly to die for. “Repaid.” 

He ran a hand through his long hair, catching your gaze. 

If he was an ordinary man, he would be truly fucked. 

“So, tell me.” His voice came out as something closer to a purr than anything else. “How does a woman such as yourself turn to petty crime?” If it were possible to display every element of the spectrum of human emotion in one simultaneous instant, Loki was sure it would look very similar to how your face currently looked. 

Almost as quickly as it had come over you, it was gone. The mask returned and you flashed him a coy grin. 

“What gave me away?” Your left eyebrow quirked. 

“I’m perceptive.” He smiled. “You’re good, I’ll give you that. But I’m better.” 

“What are you, a cop?” Your voice was calm, level. It was almost completely impossible to detect the emotions behind it. 

“Please.” He scoffed. “I have a proposal for you.” 

Your arm dropped to your side. Your face remained unchanged, but the mischief, the slight twinkle in your eye, was gone. 

“Meet me outside the toilets in five minutes.” Your voice was hoarse. You turned away from him with a swish of apple-scented hair, taking a step away from him. 

He reached out, catching your wrist. You stumbled slightly, grabbing at the bar to steady yourself. 

“I’m not interested in sex, if that’s what you think.” His voice dropped. 

“Then what do you want?” You spun to face him. 

“If you show me, I’ll show you.” He grinned at you. 

“Show me, what, exactly?” You asked, intrigued. 

“Everything.” He whispered. His hand came up to your face, taking your chin gently inbetween his forefinger and thumb. He turned your head gently from side to side, before tilting it back. You watched with curious eyes, but allowed him to rest his hand on your forehead. 

He closed his eyes slowly, his consciousness seeping through his body, penetrating your mind. 

--

It was an odd place, your mind. He’d never been in any other quite like it. There had always been a lot going on, in people’s minds. They were.. furnished. Most appeared as a place, at least - a childhood home, a favourite place - but yours was remarkably empty. 

Enormous black units surrounded him, rows upon rows of boxes reaching as far as his eyes could see. The only other thing present within your mind was a chair, upon which you sat. 

It was tall and as black as the shelves. The back faced him, your legs slung either side of it, your elbow resting on the top. Your chin rested on your fist, and you watched him as he adjusted to your surroundings, one eyebrow bemusedly quirked. 

“Fancy seeing you here.” You smiled. “Sorry about the mess. I don’t get a lot of visitors, you know, inside my head.” 

Loki laughed. 

“Your mind is intriguing, little one.” He walked towards one of the units to get a closer look, lifting a hand to open one. It didn’t budge. 

“I bet you say that to all the girls.” You teased.  

“Just the pretty ones.” He tugged again, a little harder. “What’s in these boxes?“

“My deepest secrets.” You replied curtly. “How do you do this, anyway? You don’t get many people who can waltz into your mind uninvited around here.” 

“I told you, you show me, and I’ll show you.” He left the boxes, walking over to where you sat. He circled you a few times, looking around for anything else within your mind. “I am not of this world.” 

“No shit.” You grumbled. 

“Ladies first.” He grinned. “I want to know how you do it. Then you will get your answers.” 

“Then get out of my head.” You replied. “The only person in here to scam is you, and it’s not quite the same when someone knows you’re going to rob them.” 

“Very well.” Loki snapped his fingers. 

You opened your eyes with a gasp as he lifted his hand from your forehead. 

“Never do that again.” You warned. 

He chuckled, lifting his hand to support his head, looking at you expectantly. 

“I’m waiting.” He raised an eyebrow. 

“Where shall we start?” 

--

You leant across the table towards Loki. 

“That one.” You tilted your head towards the left. 

He lifted his head, looking up for the man you’d singled out. The ginger in the double breasted suit? The lanky blonde with the knock knees? The man bun? 

No. 

He knew the one. 

“Clammy hands.” He mused. “Look at the discoloration on the front of his trousers. The pigment has been lost from repeatedly wiping his hands on them. He has sweaty hands.” 

“Can I keep you?” You tilted your head to the side. 

“Why him?” He asked. “How do you choose?” 

“I don’t.” You replied. “They sort of... reveal themselves. They look at me. Stare at me. All I have to do is look back.” 

“And from there?” 

“The art of robbing someone just comes down to sleight of hand. Same as hustling a card game.” You glanced over at the man. “I used to do magic tricks with cards and make people’s car keys disappear as a kid. I picked it up from there.” 

“Impressive.” He leaned back in his seat. “Why do you do it?” 

“This world has not been kind to me.” You sighed. “Besides, life is so much more interesting with a little chaos.” 

He chuckled, placing both of his elbows on the table, hands clasped together in front of his face. 

“Do you fuck all of them?” He raised one eyebrow. 

“Just the pretty ones.” Your face cracked into a wide smile. 

He stared at you for a second. This beautiful, conniving woman in front of him, the poison that resided in your mind, the deadliness that lay in your hands. 

In all honesty, it excited him. 

You’d intrigued him since he’d very first laid eyes on you, and every moment since, that  intrigue had grown. Who were you really? What were you? 

For the first time that evening, it occurred to him that he didn’t even know your name. 

He got the feeling that if he asked, you wouldn’t tell him the truth. You weren’t that stupid. 

You were hiding from something, he was fairly sure. Being in hiding was something he was all too familiar, and if there was anything he had learned in his five thousand years of life, it was how to spot when someone was on the run. 

“I believe you are exactly what I’ve been looking for, little criminal.” He murmured. 

“And what, pray tell, would that be?” You pursed your red painted lips. 

“A partner in crime.” He replied. “A fellow mischief maker, if you will.” 

“You could be a serial killer.” You crossed your arms over your chest. 

“So could you.” He said curtly. “I entered your mind and you’ve just explained how you con and rob people, but yet, here we both still are.” 

You blinked, shifting so you were leaning on your left side. Your expression was thoughtful - you were considering his suggestion. 

“And what exactly do I get out of this deal?” You asked. 

“You saw what I did earlier.” He leaned forwards on his forearms. “I will open your mind to things you cannot currently even begin to comprehend.” 

“Okay. I’ll bite.” You lifted your drink to your lips, taking a sip. “I accept your offer.” 

“I must tell you.” He warned. “You will be playing with fire.”  You set your glass down on the table, before leaning back in your seat. You turned your head to the left briefly, tossing your hair over one shoulder. You crossed one leg over the other as you turned back to face him. Your eyes found his, a gaze that truly seemed to be looking into his soul, and you smiled. 

“Luckily for you, I like to watch things burn.” 

TAGLIST: @possessedjoker​ @amour-delicate

#loki x reader #loki smut #tom hiddleston x reader #loki x you #Loki Laufeyson #tom hiddleston #loki/reader #loki au #loz writes loki

[purkinje-effect]

The Anatomy of Melancholy, (20)77: Caught Up in the Moment

Table of Contents. Third Instar, Chapter 8. Go to Previous. Go to Next. TWs: Food/meat, implied digestive trouble, unapologetic medical fetishization, brief grievous memory association, smoking. Seventy-seven is a sentimental number for me.

“...[C]lothes do not merely make the man, the clothes are the man; that without them he is a cipher, a vacancy, a nobody, a nothing.” -- Mark Twain’s “Czar’s Soliloquy”

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‘Choly and Angel walked next door to rejoin Sticks in the junk vendor’s stall. He found it peculiar, that trash did not comprise a majority of the dealer’s wares, despite the store’s categorization as a junk vendor. Much of it had been restored or repaired in some capacity, if not marginally more presentable polished or cleaned up some. A distant, crooked smile tugged at him, delighted by his ability to identify the most mundane of ancient things which had not graced his sight in some time. Ceramic figurine egg timer. Cake breaker. Dusting bellows. Pewter powder box. No, perhaps the entire mall could be called a large scale antiques dealer of sorts--with a healthy mix of contemporary crafts for sale as well, of course.

While ‘Choly had taken Liam’s suggestion to try some local fashion choices for something more compatible with the cervical collar, Sticks had decided to test his suggestion this type of merchant might yield their hunt better results. Sticks hadn’t wanted to wait around while ‘Choly clothing shopped, no matter how brief the errand with their appointment at the Gate City Clinic at eleven. When he found him, Sticks had just given up digging in a bin of various sacks.

The ghoul eyed him with pleasant surprise, hands stiff in his pockets.

“Didn’t expect you to be done first. Take it from your good spirits you found stuff you’re happy with.” He squinted at the new garments ‘Choly wore. “...I know you wear it well, but Ant lace? I thought we were pinching caps here.”

‘Choly smiled. First the cervical collar and a genuine direction to procuring the rest, and now brand new clothing. He now wore a collarless mesh chemisette, over his corset but tucked under the edge of the cervical collar, with a ribbon tie in the back and to either side. The corset still peeked out under the cropped hem. Atop this he’d put his cardigan back on. Draped around his neck was the article with which Sticks had exception: a long Irish lace shawl, with its tails drawn into a loose knot in the front. Several hundred dollars lighter for it, his heart felt even lighter still. In his day went the phrase, the clothes make the man, but it persisted even now that new clothes could do wonders.

“Up until now,” he finally replied, “all my clothes have either been prewar salvage or military issue. But now, I own some clothes handmade this year. I need to stop feeling like the relic I am. To stop feeling like I’m still stuck in 2077. I’d imagine it’s well enough time to finally celebrate something.”

“I figured last night was a to-do, but I guess you’ve earned something fancy. Appearances sure matter a lot to you.”

“Have to make up for my personality somehow, don’t I?” He shrugged off his own glib self-deprecation. “Before we get going, did you want to try something new, too? The apparel clerk was incredibly helpful.”

Sticks’s attention fell elsewhere as they walked out of the junk vendor’s stall.

“Mm, no offense, but I prefer the way duds used to be made.”

“That’s fair. The display windows of the boutiques that specialize in prewar fashion have caught my attention every time we pass them. Right now, though, I feel more like trying to blend in a bit. To feel present.”

Something about yesterday’s conversation with Liam had ‘Choly’s mind abuzz with a confusion he nearly welcomed. His interaction with the apparel clerk repeated in his mind. With the utter unisex nature of garments, he couldn’t not ask her, with some trepidation, And how might a man go about wearing this one? And this? She’d let him into the fitting room stall so she could show him, making adjustments once he reemerged with the new clothes on his person. He smiled into himself as he mounted Angel.

“The clerk showed me how Laners wear things. I thought I could tell at a glance that wealth and status were demonstrated with wearing as many individual garments as possible, with wearing as much of a given fabric as possible, with the greatest intricacy to a fabric possible. But it’s more complicated than that? Really, it shocks me that you wouldn’t take a shine to this kind of place. She lamented that my orthotic corset has no detail work, and is made from such an uninteresting fabric. All function, with none of the form, she says. Clothing here is designed to show off the undergarments! Socks included, for example--hence all the golf trousers.” His eyes wilded, focused on nothing, as he reared up on his grip on Angel’s car-door handles. “I can’t imagine literally airing my unmentionables to the whole neighborhood, no matter what I paid for them.”

“...What’s that supposed to mean? Me not taking a shine to Ant.”

“Your... interest in corsets,” fumbled from him.

“Tch! Believe it or not, I don’t blow my top every time I see one.” He twisted taking exception to it into flirtation, and smirked up at ‘Choly. “Depends a lot on who’s wearing it.”

‘Choly crinkled his nose to hide his flustering.

“--Well! Hopefully we’ll find more to outfit me with. I know you didn’t find anything at the one merchant, but there’s dozens of vendors here with junk for sale. Which, speaking of leather scraps... You know, I’ve been noticing lots of leather and fur here, too. I know the Clark sisters dress the Laners’ kills, but I haven’t noticed anyplace that’s been permitted leather tools. It’s been driving my curiosity wild. Everyplace with clothes has had sturdy fur-lined leather overcoats for sale.” He waved a declaration through the air one-handed, before returning to an even grip. “A must-have for any body with business out-doors. Sufficient winterized rad-resistant gear and all that.”

“You really must be feeling better, to be so chatty. God bless that neck thing.” Sticks chuckled, warmed. “By curiosity, I’m assuming you’re asking where they get it all. You’re right, if you think the Furriers had anything to do with it. Well, had. No idea how Ant will react to the Unfolded. They used to caravan up here every so often, with the Riverhawk. They’d trade leather, fur, salvaged prewar fabric bolts, dressed meat. The Laners never much liked them, but the commerce was too good to turn ‘em shy. I traveled with them up here a few times, but even the times I’ve come up here on my own I’ve never really taken a shine to living here.”

“Fuck-me-in-the-mouth, I hope they don’t show up here.”

The last thing any of them needed was a continuation of what had transpired in Lowell. Surely, they hadn’t been followed.

“Gen’s got all their hands too full to bother with trade route upkeep, I imagine.”

“...You don’t suppose my coat lining came from here, do you?”

It took some time to grasp what ‘Choly was on about.

“That Franken-monster of a thing Bones gave you? I guess so, maybe. Both cities had a lot of textiles. There’s no telling where she got it.”

They entered the Gate City Clinic and sat in the mostly empty waiting area. One of the other medics noticed them and approached.

“Do you need help with something?”

“We’re waiting for Liam,” ‘Choly said.

“He’s about to take his lunch soon. You’ll be waiting at least an hour, if you’re intent to see him and not one of the other staff. What brings you in?”

“Just on time.” Sticks winked. “We’re waiting for his lunch hour. We’re here on business. Not doctor stuff.”

The medic shrugged and walked off to a desk to contend with some papers.

Liam walked up shortly after, this time in a velvet-trimmed sheer mesh shirt, and golf pants again. His deep eyes brightened in an otherwise indifferent face.

“You’re awfully stuffed up. You know that right?” His cigarette bobbed limply as he spoke. “But this, it’s an improvement. Really, I don’t get the preoccupation with salvaged prewar clothes. Most of it’s garbage these days. Deteriorating, stained, doesn’t breathe...”

“It only wears out if not properly cared for,” Angel said.

They couldn’t tell if Liam’s silence came more on account of his consideration of the Mister Handy’s comment, or more of their speechlessness that it had sassed a prospective business partner they’d only met the night before.

“Anyway.” Liam lipped at his smoke, then walked away. He wagged his head for them to follow him to the back. “I’m taking lunch now. Allow me to give you a tour of the place.”

The Gate City Clinic, the best ‘Choly could tell, utilized the original shop’s two offices for an office and storage space. He presumed the stock room at one end of the hall made up Liam and Orqueida’s living quarters, though Liam didn’t show them. He took them finally to the kitchen at the opposite end of the hall, once a break room. The makings of a rudimentary chemistry setup occupied a small kitchen hutch.

“Neither of us cooks,” Liam said, “but we also prefer to eat in privacy. Orqueida got us food before she headed to the Inn for the day. Have you eaten?”

“We haven’t!” Sticks eyed the sizable sack on the table. “You shouldn’t have. Thank you.”

“Orqueida insisted. You’re welcome, though.”

‘Choly’s mouth watered at the lingering aroma of hot pickled meat. He swallowed and did his best not to frown.

“...I appreciate it, but no thanks.”

“Oh,” Angel worried, “breakfast must be disagreeing with you already.”

“You’re out of your smoothies.” Sticks gave him an assertive glare. “Eat with us.”

Sooner than argue, ‘Choly took it upon himself to scrutinize the hot plate and various glassware Liam had collected.

Liam smushed his cigarette in the ashtray on the kitchen table, then produced from the oiled canvas sack beside it a series of lidded tins, ranging from bread box to tea tin, but mostly an average of them. Much like the sewing kits of yesteryear, ‘Choly knew better than to think Liam intended to serve them two hundred year old butter cookies.

“I thought the food court didn’t include the dishes,” ‘Choly said.

“They charge you for not having your own. But we can sell back the tins.” Liam shrugged. He opened the tin in his hand then, to demonstrate some shredded juicy pale stuff, only to glance down with a disappointed frown and replace the lid. “Ugh, sauerkraut. ...Breaks even if we clean it before returning it. You have tins, you find tins, you sell them to the food court.”

Sticks helped him remove the lids to reveal shaved corned brahmin, toasted bread slices, sauerkraut, thin fragments of a rindy cheese, a pepper tin of some sort of sauce, and what resembled pickled garlic cloves or mozzarella balls. The not-gold lighting blanched any visual appeal the foods may have had, but the savory piquant aromas more than made up for it. Liam produced utensils from a counter drawer and set them down on a clean dishrag.

“At least she didn’t forget the morsels.” Liam sighed as he popped one of the globules in his mouth, then one more. He held the tin out to the two of them. Sticks took two. ‘Choly picked up a fork to take just the one, almost uncertain they could be stabbed without breaking. “Digestive issues? Really, we should make time to sit and discuss all this. Maybe I could help.”

‘Choly watched the two men cobbling together sandwiches to either side of the table. He stuck the morsel in his mouth. Coated in a tart oil, its flesh had a firm bite but still a tenderness. Chewing on it for some time, it dawned on him these were some sort of mushroom.

“What would help... is more... Stimpaks.” As ‘Choly said it, his voice garbled into a self-conscious hush. “I’ve got everything else.”

Liam sat to dig in, his befuddlement on his sunken brow.

“I don’t figure you’ll be able to get started today. We’re just talking things over. Knowing the equipment you’ve got at your disposal should help draft what to send your ‘acquisition expert’ on errands for.” He unfolded a piece of paper from his shirt pocket one-handed and gave it to Sticks, who was much more nettled by the whole thing than he let on. “I’ve got a few things I’ll pay you for as well. Provided it wasn’t some fancy way of saying you’re a scavver, it should be a cakewalk.”

“The hell do you need so much-- You know what. Don’t worry about it, and I won’t, either.”

“You deal with him, so I don’t have to. I pay very well for it.”

Stress snagged up in ‘Choly’s throat.

“You mentioned last night that you’re looking for first aid basics. You traded a cervical brace for my handful of Addictol and Med-X.” His voice cracked. “What-- about Stimpaks?”

Liam sat up, and set down his hand on the table, still holding his sandwich in it. He scowled at his food instead of his guests.

“Stimpaks aren’t the end all for first aid. I really don’t have much use for them. A medic once had to know how to work without them, in the chance they ran out on the battlefield. I got my training in similar circumstances. I do rarely have them, but as far as I know, making them is a lost prewar science--”

“--But why not use advanced tools, where available?” ‘Choly reeled back the accidental sarcastic shock, clasping his chin. “Do you not see many severe injuries here?”

“We’re a cautious bunch. Most of what I oversee is illness, not injury. While I can handle injuries when they happen, I’m definitely grateful it’s not my job. It means the Lane’s safe.”

‘Choly steadied himself a bit by beginning to craft his own serving.

“What... if I told you that I knew how to make them?”

“I’d tell you not to bother.”

The chemist’s ears rang. He dropped it for now.

Over the next few days, ‘Choly got to work on chems, Sticks went on Liam and ‘Choly’s errands, and Angel assisted Liam in the clinic where he’d permit. He disliked that a majority of his trouble amounted to isolating the alkaloid salts from pounds of dried Hubflower petals, but he reminded himself that he was synthesizing Med-X with it. At least it came easily for him. He even got plucky and decided he’d throw something together with his stash of dried melon blossoms, to test his theory its compounds could steady one’s alertness. For the time being, he stifled the compulsion to up the level of difficulty and complexity, and did not propose anything off Liam’s work order more grandiose than an herbal remedy. They all had to prove their reliability to Liam, and sprawling out his efforts when his lab equipment was one step above kitchenware was the opposite of a sound idea. Besides, the man had requested medicine and nothing more.

One afternoon, Sticks burst into the kitchen. He flung down a mess of something in the tile floor with a semi-muffled clatter, only to dash back out with a huge grin. ‘Choly eyed the pile breathlessly from where he sat at work. Recognizing the same canvas and leather he had around his neck, he did his best to make sure the soaking pale purple-blue petals didn’t over-process.

Sticks stomped back in some time later, dragging along an exhausted Liam.

“These are the legs right?” He had the catalogue open, pointing at it eagerly. “Right???”

“It appears so. But I can’t tell from this jumbled mess, if it’s complete.”

“Then let’s see! ‘Choly! Stop messing with that smelly junk and let us at your legs.”

“You’re lucky the start you gave me didn’t make me break something. I was handling acid. ...I don’t have to remove my pants, do I?”

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Amending the snark, Liam added, “We can see how they fit over the trousers first.”

Sticks chuckled, wringing his hands.

With some effort, Liam pieced together the components, eyeing the catalogue for reference. Each segment was reinforced with metal boning and fastened shut on the outer parts with busks and fan lacing for ease. Sticks had the luck that the waistband which secured each hip hinge had come attached to one of the legs. Otherwise, he probably wouldn’t have known the piece was necessary.

“Aren’t you glad you turned me loose to go hunting on my own?” the ghoul delighted. “It’s funny. I remember fewer merchants being okay with anything less than cold hard cash. I’ve been getting run ragged obtaining the right stuff for the right people. But it’s all a drop in the bucket for you, Mindy.”

“Two pieces in one week. Three, if you count each separate leg. In tact. Yes, of course I’m amazed.“

Having followed Liam and Sticks back in, Angel entered to supervise.

Liam lowered himself into the floor and chewed at his cigarette filter while he worked at getting one of ‘Choly’s legs slipped into the thing. ‘Choly did his best to balance, and let out an anxious laugh when Sticks all to eagerly joined Liam in the floor to mirror the effort with ‘Choly’s other leg.

“Gotta practice,” Sticks insisted with a crooked grin, despite meeting no protest.

The two helped ‘Choly stand, so he could fasten the waistband. Liam gestured where the circular hinges needed to align, and the two steadied the leg pieces at the height needed to achieve this, so that the padded belt could be adjusted accordingly. Once they got him into the device, he took a few testing steps. His heart fluttered. Unsurprisingly, they gave a great deal of protest with each step.

“I brought a tool kit with me,” Sticks offered. “We can adjust how tight the hinges are, to stop all that squeaking and creaking. I’m sure I can find some oil, too.”

“Forget how they sound.” Liam put out his cigarette. “Do they help?”

‘Choly kept testing them out, pacing slowly and deliberately from one end of the kitchen to the other. He couldn’t help but snivel and smile with awe.

“I feel like a toy soldier... but that isn’t necessarily a negative. My hips are lined up to where I don’t have to think so hard about the steps I take. I do think they could stand a little tightening up, but the alignment’s still good despite being as old and beat up as I am.”

“The oldest thing in this room is probably the ghoul--” Liam elbowed Sticks beside him, “--but the braces come in a close second.”

‘Choly turned, deadpan.

“I’m older than he is.”

“By seven years or so, if memory serves,” Angel said. “Twenty-eighth of November, 2034.”

Liam’s humor didn’t falter, though he stood with a vague discerning squint. ‘Choly ambled over to the table to sit with a grunt.

“If I can bum a smoke and sit back down, I’ll explain why I might be one of your weirder patients.”

He himself sat backward in the metal diner chair wordlessly. He produced his pack of Clipper Ships from his rolled sleeve, tapped out two cigarettes to place in his lips, and lit them. And he offered one across the kitchen table between genteel thumb and forefinger, his eyes bright with eager skepticism.

____________

Fun facts: Russian dressing (often substituted with Thousand Island) is credited to have been created in Nashua, NH, by one James E. Colburn.

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#fallout #fallout 4 #fallout fanfic #fallout 4 fanfic #sole survivor #the anatomy of melancholy #melancholy #sticks #angel #liam bledsoe #trans sole survivor #transmasc sole survivor #disabled sole survivor #let's have fun in new hampshire

[serendipitykpop]

distant love

Pairing: huang renjun x reader

Summary: “Our distant love.”

You glanced at the clock.

It was nearly time.

You couldn’t help feeling restless as you watched the minutes tick by. There were only a few minutes until he called. When you can hear him again. When you can see him again. When you can be with him again.

3. 2. 1.

And your phone rang. Right on the dot of midnight.

You smiled, rolling onto your side as you clicked the answer button. Then, there he was.

“Renjun,” You softly called him.

Upon hearing your sweet voice, his beaming face came into view. His smile was as big as ever. He couldn’t contain his excitement anymore and it was obvious to see that he was happy to see you.

“Y/N!”

You laughed. “Someone’s got energy today.”

“Just finished a concert and showered, so I’m still full of adrenaline.”

Your eyes softened. Even though he pushed himself beyond his limit sometimes, was hard on himself so many times, you knew he loved performing. It was his calling. His dream.

“How was it?”

Renjun’s eyes shone as he spoke energetically about the concert. What songs they sang, the segments they did, the shenanigans they pulled and how the fans reacted to all of it. He always pulled you in when he spoke of this. It made you want to see him sooner, to see him doing what he was so immersed in.

While he spoke, you admired the way his face lit up at the mention of the fans. His voice would get a little excited at parts here and there, exaggerating some of the words to emphasize certain parts. His smile was beautifully dancing across his lips and his arms swung around to show everything he spoke of. It was endearing.

“It was amazing!” He breathed at the end of his speech and looked up at the ceiling. He closed his eyes and smiled, remembering back to the feelings he had during their show. He then laughed and opened his eyes. His cheeks grew a rosy red as he grew shy looking at you. “I rambled for too long again, didn’t I?”

You shook your head.

“You’re passionate about what you’re doing. It’s cute when you get like this.”

He huffed, laying down on his side. “You’re teasing me. Mean.”

“I am not. I truly mean it, Renjun, when I say I love seeing you like this.”

His cheeks grew redder, which only made you laugh. Adorable.

“But you know. After all of the bright lights and screaming fans, I’m glad that I get to come home to you.”

“Even when I’m a thousand miles away?”

Renjun smiled. “Even when you’re a thousand miles away, you’re still in my heart. Facetiming you like this every night is the same as if I was ending the night with you.”

Now, it was your turn to blush.

You let out a groan and pulled your blanket up to hide your embarrassment.

“Renjun!”

He laughed.

Despite his busy schedule, he always found time to facetime you every night. One reason was to catch up with you and see his beautiful partner after a long day. Then, the other reason was to help the loneliness he felt when he was so far apart from you.

“Now, how was your day, my love?”

You peeked one eye out from your blanket and grinned. You pulled away, so that he could see you.

Then, you explained how you were finally able to do nothing for once. You were always pounded with all this school work during the weekdays. You tried your best to stay on top of things, but was never able to get a day off where you could just relax. But this time, you managed to do so and it was well worth it because you did absolutely nothing all day.

Renjun’s honey laughter rang through the phone. 

“Sounds very productive,” He would tease, but he was glad. You were one to overwork yourself as well. You never knew when to stop doing work and relax. It was equally difficult to get you to relax as you would try to do the same.

“Do you feel better?”

“So much better. I think this is the most motivated I’ve ever been. Maybe I’ll do something crazy tomorrow like go running!”

“Really?”

You chuckled. Caught red-handed.  “Busted.”

The two of you continued to poke fun at the other and talk about anything and everything as the hours went by.

It was getting late in the night now.

You and Renjun should’ve said your goodbyes to go wander through the dreamland, but neither one of you could bring yourself to do so. You missed the other too much to let go so soon.

The door opened to Renjun’s room and he glanced over his shoulder to see who it was. Jaemin.

“How long are you lovebirds going to be on facetime? It’s past your bedtimes, go to bed,” He said before closing the door behind him.

Renjun tiredly laughed as he turned back to you.

“Well, you heard him. I should let you go then.”

“No,” He whined, pouting like a baby. “I want to keep talking to you.”

“But you have to get up early tomorrow. I can’t have you staying up too long.”

“I don’t care. I don’t mind.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled.

“I mind, so go to bed.”

“Nu-uh.” He stubbornly shook his head. “I want to be with you.”

“Only ten more minutes, then we’ll call it. Okay?”

“Okay.”

But those ten minutes turned into half an hour, then an hour. By now, both your words were slurring. While the two of you wanted to stay up longer, your bodies were asking for sleep. You were stubborn and fought against it.

Eventually though, there was a period where it went quiet. You and Renjun thought the other had fallen asleep, but really, you were just taking in each other’s presence.

The two of you didn’t always have to talk, but it was comforting to know the other was on the opposite side of the phone. You could do your own things or even sleep and it would make the other all warm and fuzzy inside.

“Y/N.”

“Mm?”

“You know I love you, don’t you?”

You scoffed, a small smile on your face “How can I, when you show me you do every day?”

“I just wanted to make sure.”

“My love, you make it so obvious, I could never doubt your love. You give me no reason to doubt you.”

“And that’s how I feel about you. You do absolutely everything for me and sacrifice so much. I can’t help but feel so touched when you do all the little things for me.”

“Yeah? Well, when you come to visit me, bearing all these gifts, I am bursting with happiness because it means you thought of me. You saw the gift and thought of me, thinking that I would love it. Now, that is true love.”

He laughed. “How did this turn into a competition of who loved the other more?”

You shrugged, innocently smiling.

“I think the point is that it’s obvious that we love each other very much. With all of our heart and soul.”

“That’s right.”

And as Renjun looked at you, he swore a promise to always protect that smile of yours forever and always.

“I swear I’ll continue to do so for the rest of my life.” 

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Nooo, tell me!”

He chuckled.

“Maybe someday.”

“Hm, mean.”

Your distant love with Renjun was hard to deal with a lot of the time because of the distance, but you would never trade it for the world.

#huang renjun #renjun #renjun imagines #renjun scenarios #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #nct scenarios #nct dream #nct imagines #nct

[luminashdawnwing]

Trading Favors (Part II)

(Click here for Part I)

“The Purpose guides the attendants and their guardians, it guides the Arbiter, and perhaps it guides the functions of the Shadowlands themselves, but us? We do not adhere to it.” The Broker explained as he motioned for Luminash to follow, “As much as they might insist that we do.” A laugh, sharp and quick, the momentary burst of mirth rapidly silenced.

Luminash’s conversation with the Broker - at least he thought it was the same one who had approached him after his first few hours in Oribos - had picked up right where it had left off, with the Purpose, and the First Ones. Those same topics that seemed to have first drawn the figurative eyes of the merchants teeming through Oribos’ monumental walls.

Wait on the outer ring, outside the Idyllia, when you have acclimated yourself to this place, and when you know more of its people We will find you, and then, I believe, benefit one another. Such had been the invitation, now answered.

As he followed the Broker into the Idyllia, all around him were other Brokers peddling their wares and offering services from food and drink to musical entertainment, and taking them up on these offers were Azerothian mortals of all stripes, as well as the native denizens of the Shadowlands - winged azure-toned Aspirants and the occasional winged Ascended, skeletal and armored Maldraxxi, the hooved and antlered residents of Ardenweald, and the tall, ashen, bat-like Venthyr. Not a single one even batted an eye at the Broker as he shepherded yet another mortal through the throng and into a darker hallway beyond.

“Now that we have moved away from prying ears, mortal, we may speak more clearly. I am Ta’vik, a representative of Cartel Ta. It was - quite swiftly, might I add - brought to our attention that a mortal had arrived who might find himself out of the attendant’s good graces through asking too many questions.”

“I have done no such-” Luminash sputtered in response.

“But you have! The Purpose is beyond questioning, beyond reproach. At least it is to them.” Ta’vik continued, his hands clasped in front of him as he strode deeper into the passaged snaking through Oribos, the tink of his feet on the stone floor echoing from the walls, “Not so to us, as you may have gathered, Luminash.”

The magister’s eyes narrowed, “I have not told you my name, Ta’vik.” He stopped, “How much, precisely, do you know? And why should I not turn around right now?”

Another sharp laugh. It called to mind the swift and deadly thrust of a dagger between the ribs, “Because we have access to such knowledge! Our partners in Cartel Ba trade in such commodities, and brought you to our attention. Our commodities are, however, a bit more concrete, which is why we sought you out.” Once more, like at their first meeting, Luminash felt as if - were Ta’vik could, that is - the Broker would be smiling like a shark, “You are skilled in scholarship, combat, and acquisition. The abstract and the concrete, a perfect intermediary, yes?”

“And what is it your cartel wants from me? Enough to do your research first? I suppose it should be flattering, but I find it, on the other hand, quite suspicious.” Luminash sunk back from Ta’vik, arms crossed over his chest, an eyebrow raised in defiance, “I do expect a clear answer - which are certainly in short supply in Oribos, I’ve found - before this goes too far.”

“Simply put, mortal, we need an intermediary to retrieve a few objects of interest for us from places where we do not, shall we say, receive the warmest of welcomes. And thanks to our partnership with Cartel Ba, we have the information you seek and an item you may find intriguing as well.”

The magister exhaled, closing his eyes for a moment to calm himself before speaking, “While I appreciate receiving some sort of answer, I have had, truly, just about enough of vagaries. What are these objects to you, and what is it you are actually offering me in return?”

“A trade of favors, Luminash. Nothing more, and nothing less. Come, we shall speak if you will follow.” The Broker motioned, the magister noticing with a bit of unease that, while there was the appearance of arms beneath fabric, the ripple of motion showed less definition than a mere glance would reveal.

Hesitantly, Luminash’s feet bore him forward, his own soft leather soles padding along in the wake of the Broker’s echoing step. Little here was what it seemed.

“The realms of the Shadowlands are infinite. The possibilities for trade, therefore, are also infinite. Goods and information. Cartels Ta and Ba have need of both, and we have nearly closed a few deals of import. We now need only goods to trade. More than that, you need not know.” Before Luminash could interject, irritation flashing anew across his face, Ta’vik continued, “Two objects from you for one favor from us: two for information, two for your item. Both are necessary prizes, I assure you.”

“Which assures your cartels that my job will not be done halfway. Is that right?” Luminash asked, bitterness dripping from his tongue.

“Quite right!” There came that laugh again, a grating sound, enough to make Luminash feel an itch between his shoulderblades, “A clever ploy, no? We never come to the table unprepared, as we know neither do you.”

The Broker carried on, undeterred by the magister’s snide remark, “There are two associates of mine whom your services might benefit. One, Ta’nir, a proprietor at the Night Market in the realm of Revendreth, who specializes in difficult acquisitions, and who has in his possession a bauble of First One origin, requires a pristine pair of ardenmoth wings - simple enough, no? - and a very specific dagger from a Venthyr noble house of little consequence. He can provide more details.”

“And the second?” Luminash raised a brow, noticing that the sounds of the teeming Idyllia were returning from the hall ahead - had they not only walked in one direction?

“Ba’net. A consummate trader of rare and valuable information, who frequents Transfer Station Ta in the realm of Bastion. She requires two things: an intact Maldraxxi phylactery from the House of Rituals, and a wing of a Kyrian Ascended. Just one will do.”

It was Luminash’s turn now to laugh, a loud, bitter bark brimming with incredulity, “Oh! Is that all, Ta’vik? Your friend seems to have lofty expectations.”

“And will they be a problem, Luminash? Without her requested goods, she will not share the knowledge she possesses. Tell me, mortal, did you not inquire about the Maw?”

The sounds of speech and music from the Idyllia continued to grow nearer as the pair walked. Luminash answered hesitantly, suspicion in his voice, “I did. You truly did hear all of it, did you not?”

“The walls have eyes - and ears - don’t they?” The Broker laughed, his tone both mirthful and ominous, “That is what your people say, I do believe. And the walls are ours, as much as the attendants think it is their Purpose that guides this place.”

“So they do.” Luminash drew his lips into a thin line. Was it too late to back away from this deal? Had he even made a deal, or had it been decided before he ever spoke a word? Despite Ta’vik’s assurances of attaching no strings so far, Luminash felt himself bound utterly; the associates were already waiting, an opportunity offered and swiftly lost if not seized - a trap, crafted especially for him.

“The First Ones traveled the infinite, winding paths through the In-Between in ways incomprehensible. Without the right knowledge, that is. Or without the right tools. Both of which may be within your grasp, should you fulfil your part of the bargain.” Again, the distinct impression of a shark's grin.

“You ask much, but offer more. That’s the catch, isn’t it?”

“Your business savvy is showing, mortal. You are not wrong. The final element of this trade of favors is that we may call upon you once more - and only once after this, you have my word, and the word of Cartels Ta and Ba alike - for a favor of our choosing. It must be accepted, mind you, lest you be found in breach of contract.” Ta’vik paused, perhaps to think of the right word, or perhaps simply to keep the magister waiting, “And liquidated.”

As the pair, mortal and Broker, left the hallway and entered back into the Idyllia - from a different location, unconnected to where they had first stepped - Luminash made one final, futile effort to extricate himself.

“I have agreed, as yet, to nothing, Ta’vik, as appreciated as this information has been.” The words were spoken, but rang of resignation rather than resolve.

“Both of us know that does not matter, mortal. We know what your decision will be, and eagerly await your deliveries.”

With that, Ta’vik pivoted on the tips of his metallic feet and retreated into the hall, leaving Luminash alone, the fetters of this strange new deal both chafing and welcome.

#Shadowlands #story #Trading Favors

[maddrmatt]

Kairi’s Epic Journey: The Quest for Sora

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Chapter 18: A Rift Between Sisters

Arendelle

“You can wait here with the boys for now, Kairi. I’ll be back soon with Elsa after I tell her about you and why you’re here,” said Anna as she led Kairi into a small sitting room in the castle followed by Pluto, Kristoff, Sven and Olaf.

“Okay, Anna,” said Kairi.

“Hopefully she’s finally done with him.  Honestly, tomorrow can’t come soon enough,” said Anna bitterly as she exited the room.

Kairi made her way over to a nearby couch and sat down.  Pluto leapt on the left side of her and laid his head in her lap as she stroked him gently. Olaf plopped himself on Kairi’s right and smiled at her.

Kristoff sat down in a chair across from them and let out a deep sigh.  “Tomorrow can’t come soon enough for me either.  I’m just glad this will all be over soon,” he said as Sven sat down on the floor beside him.

“Me too,” Kristoff said in his Sven voice.

“Kristoff?  If you don’t mind me asking, who is this Duke of Weselton you’ve all been talking about?” asked Kairi.

“I can answer that question, Kairi.  He’s a duke and he comes from a place called Weselton. It’s not too hard to understand, is it?” asked Olaf causing Kairi to smile a little.

“I think she needs a little more information than that, Olaf,” said Kristoff as Sven nodded in agreement.  “Well, Kairi, he’s a dignitary from what used to be Arendelle’s closest partner in trade,”

“Used to be?  You mean, they’re not anymore?” asked Kairi.

“No.  And the reason why is during the time when Elsa accidentally started an eternal winter, he ordered his bodyguards to kill her in an attempt to end it.”

Kairi gasped.  “That’s horrible!”

“Yes.  So, when Elsa brought back summer, she had the Duke and his men returned to their homeland and cut off the trade agreement between Arendelle and Weselton.”

Kairi looked confused.  “But if he tried to have her killed, then why has he been allowed to return here?”

“Apparently, he wants to apologize for what he did, and he believed the only way to show that he meant it was to do it in person,” said Kristoff.

“And do you all believe he’s sincere?”

“Elsa seems to think so.  But Anna believes he’s still up to no good.  Me?  Well, I don’t think he’d try anything especially now that Elsa’s got her powers under control. But I think this whole apology thing is just him trying to get the trade agreement reinstated.  All I’m really hoping is that once he’s gone, things will get back to normal between Anna and Elsa,” said Kristoff.

“What do you mean?  Have they been fighting?” asked Kairi.

“Not exactly.  I mean, they haven’t stopped speaking to each other.  But due to their disagreement on the Duke’s visit, things have been pretty frosty between the two of them.  Everyone in the castle can all see it,” said Kristoff.

“I still don’t understand it.  They’re not just sisters but best friends too.  Why would things get bad between them like this?” asked Olaf.

“I can answer that for you, Olaf and the sad fact is, sisters and best friends don’t always agree on everything.  And that can sometimes lead to things being strained between them for some time,” said Kairi.  ‘I certainly know what that’s like.’

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it, Olaf. If I know Anna and Elsa, they’ll patch things up in time.  They’ve been through too much to let something like this split them up again,” said Kristoff.

Olaf smiled.  “You’re right!  Once the Weasel goes home, they’ll go right back to being best friends again,” said the snowman as Sven nodded.

“I’m sorry that I came at such a bad time. Maybe it’s too much to ask all of you for your help in finding Sora now,” said Kairi.

“Don’t say that, Kairi.  You couldn’t have known how things were when you arrived.  And if there’s one thing that may ease the tension around here after all this, it’ll be helping you find your friend,” said Kristoff.

________________________________________________________________

Elsewhere in the castle, Anna approached the door to the audience chamber.  Pressing her ear to the door, she listened to what was going on within.

“Thank you again, Your Majesty, for allowing me to come to your kingdom as well as accepting my apology.  I only wish I could apologize to your sister personally,” said a male voice.

“My sister has made it clear she does not wish to see you presently so I will accept your apology to both of us on her behalf.  And I thank you, Duke, for abiding by our conditions as well as not bringing up the subject of trade between our homelands because my decision still stands,” stated a female voice.

In spite of herself, Anna smiled.  ‘That’s telling him, Elsa.  If that was what he was after all along, then way to beat him to the punch.’

“I assure you, Your Majesty, the thought of that never even crossed my mind.  All I wish is for relations to improve between our homelands and hopefully, someday you can both fully forgive my atrocious behavior,” said the voice of the Duke.

‘No chance of that!’ thought Anna.

“We shall see.  But for the time being, shall we consider our business concluded?” asked Elsa’s voice.

“Of course, Your Majesty. I shall depart for Weselton tomorrow morning.  Once again, thank you for everything,” said the Duke as the sound of his footsteps approached the door causing Anna to move away and flatten herself against the wall.

The door opened and out strolled, with an air of quiet dignity, a short man dressed in a fancy uniform.  He wore glasses perched on his pointed nose and he had a gray-haired moustache and matching hair although Anna knew his hair to be a toupee.

Neither he nor the Arendelle guard who was escorting him took notice of Anna.  They just continued to walk away until they turned a corner and were out of her sight.  She stared in the direction they had gone with disgust as she recalled the moment where the subject of his return had first come up and caused the current rift to form between her and her sister.

________________________________________________________________

Arendelle, A Few Months Earlier

Seated behind her desk in the royal study, the Queen of Arendelle looked over a certain letter for nearly the fiftieth time.  Suddenly, a familiar knock on the door was heard.

“Come in!” she called.

The door opened up and in stepped her sister.  She wore a look of bewilderment to Elsa’s confusion.

“What is it?” inquired Elsa.

“Sorry.  It still feels a little strange to actually be let in,” said Anna with a little chuckle.

Elsa chuckled herself. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, it’s just as strange for me actually doing the letting in.”

Anna laughed and then said, “Anyway, Gerda said you needed to talk to me about something so what is it?”

“Well, Anna, we just received a letter from the Duke of Weselton,” said Elsa indicating the letter in question in her hand.

Anna groaned in frustration.  “What does he want?  Is he begging you to reinstate trade between Arendelle and Weselton which I hope the answer is no?”

“It’s actually not about that at all, Anna.  Why don’t read it yourself and see?  It’s actually addressed to you as well,” asked Elsa holding out the letter.

With a look of confusion, Anna walked over to her sister and took the letter from her.  She then began to read it over.

________________________________________________________________

To Queen Elsa and Princess Anna of Arendelle,

I do not know if this letter will be read by either of you on account that I have no right to expect such a thing.  But if you are reading this, then I thank you in advance for I have something that needs to be said.

I wish to offer my sincerest apologies for my conduct during my last visit to your kingdom.  Having had much time to reflect, I am deeply ashamed of the way I spoke and acted when things took an unusual turn at the coronation.

Please understand that the shocking revelation of the queen’s abilities as well as the possibility of perishing overcame me with fear.  And because of that, I acted in a very inexcusable manner and for that, I am truly sorry.

I know my words in this letter will not be enough to convey my regrets. Therefore, if you will allow me to, I wish to travel to your kingdom and offer a more formal apology in person. Only then can I believe my conscience will be truly clear.

Once again, I apologize, and I do hope you will consider my request.  I do not wish for there to be any hard feelings between us or our homelands.

Yours sincerely,

The Duke of Weselton

________________________________________________________________

Anna reread the letter making sure she didn’t miss a single word.  Finally, she lowered the letter and burst out laughing.

“He has got to be kidding.  He must really be desperate for that trade agreement if he’s pretending to beg for forgiveness now.  Good thing we’re too smart to fall for it, right Elsa?” asked Anna looking to her sister who, much to her surprise, wasn’t instantly agreeing with her.

“Elsa?”

“Anna, please don’t overreact to this.  But after reading the letter several times, I have been considering granting the Duke’s request.”

Anna let out a gasp of horror.  “You can’t be serious, Elsa!”

“Anna, please calm down,” said Elsa rising from her chair and approaching her now seething sister.

“The Duke isn’t one of my favorite people either.  But part of ruling a kingdom is maintaining civil relations with our neighbors even those we aren’t particularly fond of.  And judging from his letter, it seems that he is sincere in wanting to apologize for his actions and I think it would be unwise to just ignore that,” said the queen of Arendelle.

“So, send him a letter telling him his apology is accepted and there’s no need for him to come in person.  Then that’ll be the end of it,” said Anna.

“Anna, it’s not that simple.”

“I don’t want him coming within a hundred miles of us after what he tried to do.”

“No one can defend what he did.  But unlike… you-know-who, he didn’t come to the coronation to cause trouble right from the start.  When my powers were revealed and I plunged the land into a dangerous winter, he got scared.  And having spent a large part of my life afraid of what my powers could do uncontrolled, I can’t really blame him for it,” said Elsa.

“He called you a monster, Elsa!  He tried to have you killed!”

“Anna, for the longest time, I myself believed that I was a monster.  Hearing it from him was no different.  And you can’t deny that my powers are capable of great harm when uncontrolled.  You should know that better than anyone.  Even if the Duke hadn’t tried to kill me to stop the winter, someone else with better intentions might’ve done the same,” said Elsa.

Anna folded her arms and considered her sister’s words.  She could understand why some people like the Duke of Weselton would be scared of Elsa’s powers and make bad choices because of that fear.  She had, after all, witnessed the destruction caused by Elsa’s uncontrolled powers and had a close call with death because of it. Still, despite Elsa’s logic, she still felt that allowing the Duke to return to Arendelle was a mistake.

Elsa took her sister’s hands into her own.  “I know you just want to protect me from him, Anna, and I appreciate that.  But trust me.  I’m not going to allow back into Arendelle unless he’s willing to follow certain conditions.”

Anna let out a sigh of resignation.  “Okay. If you think this is necessary to maintain good relations, then I guess we don’t have a choice.  But I want to help set the conditions, one being that I don’t to have to interact with him anymore than necessary and another being that he is not to bother Kristoff, Sven, Olaf or anyone else while he’s here among other things.”

“You’ll have your say in that, Anna, as long as you remember to be reasonable.  But before we start on that, maybe you should calm down a little,” said Elsa.

Anna huffed. “Fine.  I guess I’ll go tell the boys what’s going to happen and to prepare themselves for a visit from Weasel Town.  I’ll see you later,” she said frostily as she exited the study.

Elsa sighed as she went back to her desk.  Before beginning to look over more paperwork, she glanced at a picture on the wall of Anna and herself with their deceased parents, King Agnarr and Queen Iduna.

‘Mama, Papa, I knew when I became queen, there would have to be some tough decisions especially ones that Anna and I wouldn’t completely agree on.  I can only hope I’m doing what’s best for us and for Arendelle.’

________________________________________________________________

Arendelle, Present Time

‘He’d better behave himself for this night or so help me, he’s going to have to answer to me,’ thought Anna before taking a deep breath to calm herself.  ‘All right, Anna.   I know things haven’t been good between you and Elsa lately.  But right now, you need to put that aside if you want to help Kairi.’

Anna immediately entered through the opened doors and into the audience chamber.  Sitting on a throne directly in front of her was her sister. Elsa had her eyes closed and looked like she was relieved that the meeting was over.

A feeling of sympathy for her sister came over Anna.  ‘I guess the meeting wasn’t easy on her.  Then again, being in the same room with someone who tried to have you killed wouldn’t be easy on anyone.’

A few moments passed before Elsa opened her eyes and beheld her sister standing in front of her. “Oh, Anna!” she exclaimed.

“Hi, Elsa.  So, is that it?  Are we finally done with him?” asked Anna.

“Yes.  For now, at least.  There may come a time when we have to deal with him again in the future. But it is all in the name of diplomacy,” said Elsa.

“I know.  Even if we may not ever be friends, we have to keep things civil between us as you’ve told me repeatedly.  Personally, I hope the next time we see him won’t happen for a good long while.  But anyway, Elsa, our next order of business has come up,” said Anna.

Elsa snapped to attention with a confused look.  “Next order of business?  What are you talking about?”

“We have an unexpected guest.  And right now, she needs our help,” said Anna

Elsa’s confusion increased.  But she paid close attention as Anna related what had happened while she was meeting with the Duke.

________________________________________________________________

Meanwhile, back in the sitting room, Kairi was getting to know her new friends a little better. Currently, Kristoff was telling stories of his life before he lived in the palace.

“So, these trolls took you in and made you a part of their family?” asked Kairi.

“Yep.  They may be a little overbearing and embarrassing at times. But I wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world.  The day they took Sven and me in was one of the best days of my life.  And looking back on that day right now, it seems even better,” said the ice harvester.

“Why is that?” asked Kairi.

Kristoff blushed for a second before blurting out in his Sven voice, “It was the day he first saw Anna!”

“Sven!” exclaimed Kristoff pretending as if the reindeer had exposed something he didn’t want to be heard.  The reindeer just made a laughing sound.

“Aww!” exclaimed Kairi.

“It’s true.  That was the first day I saw Anna.  Who would’ve thought that years later, she, a princess and me, an ice harvester, would be a couple?” asked Kristoff.

“I bet the trolls always knew.  They are love experts, after all!” exclaimed Olaf.

Kairi giggled.  “I guess we have something in common, Kristoff. After I lost my old home, I was taken in by a pretty loving couple who have been nothing but the most wonderful parents I could ask for.”

A twinge of sadness came over her.  ‘I can only hope they’ll forgive me for just running away again.’

Pluto sensed Kairi’s sadness and nuzzled further into her lap.  Kairi smiled and stroked his head.

“That same day was also when I met Sora.  He was the one who found me, and I will never forget how he smiled and held out his hand for me to take,” said Kairi as a little blush appeared on her cheeks.

Olaf giggled. “Sounds like he’s a pretty special friend to you.”

“Yes.  Yes, he is,” said Kairi almost dreamingly.

Suddenly, the door opened and in strolled Anna and Elsa.  Kairi immediately leapt to her feet as Elsa approached her.  The Princess of Heart bowed before the queen.

Elsa smiled.  “You must be Kairi.  As queen of Arendelle, I welcome you to our kingdom and our castle.”

Kairi rose up and returned Elsa’s smile with one of her own.  “Thank you, Your Majesty.  This is my dog, Pluto,” she said indicating her companion next to her who barked happily at the queen.  

Elsa chuckled.  “It’s a pleasure to meet both of you.  But it’s not necessary to be so formal, Kairi.  You may just call me Elsa.”

“I did say you could call her by name, Kairi,” reminded Anna.

“Did you forget that already?” asked Olaf.

“No, I didn’t.  It’s just that my father always taught me to be formal until you got permission to be casual.  I just needed to hear it from Elsa herself first,” said Kairi.

“Your father should be proud that he raised such a polite young lady.  Now, Kairi, Anna tells me that there is a very important reason you’ve come to Arendelle,” said Elsa.

Before Kairi could say anything, Olaf chimed in, “Yes, Elsa!  Sora’s missing and we’ve got to help Kairi find him!”

“What Olaf said, Elsa. I hope that there’s something in your kingdom that can possibly lead me to him.  If you could help me find some sort of clue to where he is, I’ll be forever grateful,” said Kairi.

Elsa placed a hand on Kairi’s shoulder.  “If there is, we’ll help you find it.  You have my word that we’ll spare no effort.  But we can start our search tomorrow.  Right now, it’s late and Anna’s told me you’re in need of a good meal and a good rest.  So, would you and your dog care to join us for dinner?”

“We’d love to.  But you really don’t mind having a dog dining with you?” asked Kairi.

“We already have a reindeer usually joining us for meals nowadays so a dog isn’t a too unusual addition,” said Anna gesturing to Sven who gave a big smile.

Kairi laughed before she realized something.  “Will the other guest be joining us?”

“No,” said Anna and Elsa simultaneously although Elsa used a calm tone while Anna’s tone sounded as if she had just heard Kairi say something rude.

Elsa gave her sister a small glare of annoyance before turning back to Kairi and saying, “As one of the conditions of his visit here, the Duke is not allowed to dine with us. He must take his meals in his room.”

“Trust me, Kairi. You’ll be better off if you never have to meet him.  In fact, we’d all be better off if we’d never saw him again!” exclaimed Anna as she turned around and left the room.

“Anna!” exclaimed Elsa as she turned to watch her sister stomp off.  She let out a deep sigh.

Kristoff rose from his chair and walked over to Elsa.  “Don’t worry, Elsa.  I’m sure she’ll be okay once the Duke leaves.”

“I hope you’re right, Kristoff.  I hate that it’s been like this for these past weeks,” said Elsa.

“We’d better go calm her down.  We’ll see you later in the dining hall.  Olaf, Sven, let’s go,” said Kristoff as he left with the snowman and reindeer following him.

Elsa turned back to Kairi.  “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Oh no.  I’m sorry I said the wrong thing.  It’s just after what Kristoff told me about the Duke of Weselton, I’m not too sure that I want to meet him myself.”

“I’ve had Gerda make up a room for you in a different part of the castle from where he is and since he is leaving tomorrow, I doubt you’ll cross paths with him.  But in the meantime, let me show you to the dining hall,” said Elsa as she turned around and left with Kairi and Pluto walking alongside her.

As they travelled through the halls, Kairi mused on the things she had learned.  ‘I’d better watch myself around here while this Duke’s here.  After what he tried to do when he found out about Elsa’s powers, I’d hate to see how he’d react if he saw a Keyblade Wielder in action.  He sounds like the kind of person who would command the Heartless or worse, become one.’

Kairi then regarded the queen and saw the sad look on her face.  ‘It’s so awful that his presence here is making things hard between Anna and Elsa.  Seems I’m not the only Princess of Heart having trouble with loved ones.’

Between the search for Sora, the rift between Anna and Elsa and the presence of this Duke, Kairi never imagined a visit to another world would be filled with so much drama. She could only hope that things would improve soon enough.

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Onto the next chapter!

#kingdom hearts #kh fanfiction #sokai #anna #kairi #pluto #kristoff #sven #olaf #duke of weselton #elsa #maddrmatt