#i was a little wary because i do not like relying on her for important things. she has a history of letting me down

[yeahyouresocool]

they should invent a parent that you can trust and rely on

#i had health insurance through my job that i used last year but then my mom got a new husband and his insurance is really good #my mom was like “oh you should cancel your insurance through your work and we can use his and you wont have to pay anything” #i was a little wary because i do not like relying on her for important things. she has a history of letting me down #so im a control freak about things like this and dont want important things like insurance to be anyones responsibility except my own #but shes been better since she went to rehab so i was like “sure i will trust her with this and cancel my health insurance through my job” #because i didnt want to pay for it anyways #and guess what???? #i tried to get my covid vaccine the other day and was told that i didnt have coverage :) #called my mom and apparently she didnt set things up correctly so currently i have no health insurance :) #which is just awesome :) #she says shes figuring it out and now i literally have no choice but to hope that she will :) #hope it's figured out before i run out of my adhd meds LOL #anyways this is a psa - if your parents consistently have let you down in the past then just dont rely on them #i feel so fucking stupid #brenna speaks #vent post

[blue-devil-of-the-lord]

Hey, if you have the time. could you write an X-Men 97 Kurt Wagner x reality warper reader who is Magneto's adopted daughter.

Bound by Reality

Kurt Wagner x fem!reader Words: 1,6K A/N: I kind of feel like this sucks, but I hope it's alright anyway

Kurt loves you. That's the most important thing. He doesn't care who your father is or what he's done or how much he himself agrees with it all. He loves you. As long as you love him, that's all that matters to him.

Your power is the most fascinating thing for Kurt. Admittedly, he was quite skeptical at first. He is an acrobat, a fighter and always had to be able to rely on his senses. Especially when you met on the battlefield and on opposite sides, he was initially very wary of you and your powers.

But now, especially after you got together, you are a true miracle for him.

Sometimes you lie together in a meadow or in your bed and you alter little things, not much and it doesn't cost you much, but each time he is thrilled anew by your abilities. He's not shy about telling you either.

Every time you give free rein to your skills, be it in battle or otherwise, his legs go weak with affection. You're powerful, you're talented and between you and me, you just look fantastic doing it. Kurt could watch you use your skills all day, he wouldn't get tired of it.

However, as wonderful as he thinks your abilities are, he sometimes curses them all the more. Using your abilities, especially on a large scale, usually has severe consequences for you. Both your mental and physical strength are stretched to the limit and it is not uncommon for him to catch you at the last moment to prevent you from hitting the ground.

Should you be that vulnerable or hurt, Kurt becomes quite protective. You are one of the most important things in his life and he will protect you with his life if he has to.

Kurt is incredibly happy when you get on well with Rogue, as you are both equally important to him. However, you both have a habit of conspiring against him and he always gets the short end of the stick.

He also gets on quite well with your adoptive siblings. Admittedly, they didn't make it easy for him at first, but Kurt was quite persistent and got all three of them on his side.

You yourself had tried to delay the meeting between Kurt and your father as much as possible, which wasn't because you were embarrassed by Kurt. You loved him more than anything and you were pretty sure that wasn't going to change any time soon. The problem was your father. You were pretty sure that he would accept Kurt in the end, but you knew your father well and knew that he could be more than a little protective, especially when it came to his children.

"Liebling,“ Kurt murmured, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind as his tail wrapped around her legs. "Calm down. You're walking a hole in our carpet." She sighed as her boyfriend spread light kisses over her neck.

"You know my father, you know how he is. He's never approved of any of my relationships and I really want him to like you." Kurt leaned forward so his mouth hovered over her ear. "Will his decision change anything about us?"

She spun around and looked up at him a little indignantly. "Of course not!" A slight smirk came to his lips and he pulled her closer to him by the waist. "Then I don't see what you're so worried about." Before she could protest, he quickly placed his lips on hers, successfully silencing her.

She didn't respond at first, but then gave in with a sigh and returned the kiss, which Kurt deepened all too briefly.

He couldn't hold her in his arms for long, however, as the doorbell rang and she broke away from him, despite his protesting whimpers. She gave him one last look, half warning, half amused, before opening the door. "Dad!"

She threw her arms around his neck and Kurt could see a warm smile on Magneto's lips as he hugged his daughter. "My love." He released himself from her arms, very gently, and stroked her cheek tenderly, a loving look in his eyes. "Am I mistaken or are you becoming more beautiful with each passing day?"

Kurt could see in his mind's eye how she blushed and smiled sheepishly.

"You're exaggerating." Father and daughter exchanged words for a few moments before his gaze wandered over to Kurt. His smile disappeared in an instant and his expression became cold and distant, his hand pressed against his daughter's back. Kurt understood at that moment why she was so worried. That look alone was enough to kill him. Still, he put on his most charming smile and stepped towards him, hand outstretched as he did his best to suppress the nervous lashing of his tail. "Dad, this is Kurt Wagner, my boyfriend. I told you about him," she pressed, and after looking at Kurt for a few moments, he squeezed his hand.

It was a firm squeeze and Kurt was sure he was trying to break his hand, but he kept smiling. "I'm really pleased to meet you, sir." Magneto let go of his hand and looked at him skeptically for a moment.

"A bit bluer and furrier than the last one, eh?" She stepped forward and wrapped a hand around Kurt's arm, a forced smile on her lips. "Well, my taste has definitely improved."

The next hour was absolute torture for everyone involved—at least, that’s how Kurt felt. As she tensely tried to spark a conversation between Kurt and her father, Magneto's piercing gaze seemed to slice through Kurt. Kurt was fairly certain that this man disliked him on principle, which was a significant problem, because Kurt was pretty much in love with his daughter and had no intention of leaving her. "Darling," Magneto suddenly spoke up, but didn't take his eyes off Kurt felt like he was shrinking into the sofa cushions under that relentless stare. "Would you do me a favor and get me another drink?" Her gaze fluttered to Kurt, who tried to subtly shake his head in protest. She stood up, nodding.

"Sure," she replied, though her voice wavered slightly, betraying her uncertainty. She glanced back at Kurt, worry evident in her eyes. "Please don't kill him while I'm gone," she added, attempting to lighten the mood with a nervous chuckle.

He didn't answer, and Kurt didn't like the look Magneto gave him. The tension in the room grew worse and colder once she left, the door closing softly behind her. As soon as she was out of earshot, Magneto leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. One of the spoons on the table flew into the air, spinning slowly between them.

"So you think you deserve my daughter," Magneto said, his voice low and menacing. Kurt's eyes were fixed on the spinning spoon, his mind racing. He knew that with enough force and speed, even the bluntest object could be lethal. He swallowed hard, trying to steady his nerves.

"I wouldn't say I deserved her," Kurt began, his voice steady despite the fear gnawing at him. "I love her and she decided to give me a chance. Something she hasn't regretted yet."

Magneto's gaze narrowed. "'Not yet?' I really hope for your sake that she won't regret it in the future." Kurt swallowed and raised his hands. "Of course not. I just meant..."

"Hurt my little little girl," Magneto interrupted, his voice dangerously low, "and I'll make sure not even your god will help you."

"I..."

"I told her to stop dating, but as usual, she didn't listen to me," Magneto continued, cutting Kurt off again. Kurt didn't know where his sudden surge of confidence came from, but he found himself speaking up. "Maybe you should learn to take a step back from your daughter's life." The air in the room seemed to crackle with tension. Magneto's eyes flashed with a mixture of surprise and anger, and for a moment, Kurt wondered if he had pushed too far. The silence stretched uncomfortably long, filled only with the soft hum of electricity from Magneto's control over the metallic objects in the room.

Magneto paused and looked at him, his face a mask of emotionlessness. "What was that?" Kurt, however, didn't let it get him down and returned his gaze with unwavering resolve. "Your daughter is an incredible woman—confident, independent, strong, intelligent. She doesn't need your permission to be in a relationship. You're her father. It's your job to support her, protect her when necessary, and be there for her. It's not your job to intrude on her happiness or make her feel bad just because you don't like me. If I ever hurt her, you can do whatever you want to me. But until then, just let us be happy and back off."

Magneto stared at him, and Kurt was pretty sure he was going to be stabbed with a teaspoon at any moment. The room was silent, Magneto's expression unreadable as he processed Kurt's words. Kurt could feel his heart pounding, each beat echoing in his ears. He had put everything on the line, knowing that one wrong move could spell disaster. Then something unexpected happened: Magneto chuckled and leaned back. "I've got to hand it to you, Elf, you know how to stand your ground."

Kurt didn't know what to say to that and just stared at him in shock. Just then, she returned with Magneto's drink, her eyes flicking between the two men. She handed it to her father and sat back down next to Kurt, her hand finding his and squeezing it reassuringly. Magneto took the drink, his gaze softening slightly as he looked at his daughter. She raised her eyebrow at that. "What did you do?" "Nothing," Magneto replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Kurt just proved to me that your taste has indeed improved, my dear."

#kurt wagner x reader #nightcrawler x reader #kurt wagner #nightcrawler #magneto #erik lehnsherr #xmen #x men #xmen 97 #x men 97

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for entertaining a friendship with a child?

okay so this might be a weird one or even a controversial one i honestly have zero clue how other people will receive this, apologies in advance if i ramble!

to begin, i (23ftm) and this kid (15f) first met about a year ago. one of my best friends (23m) is a pretty big model and tiktoker and she was a fan of his, and she was pretty recognized online for making cool edits and stuff of him and coming to meetups etcetera, so he knew of her from there, and over time with always seeing each other at meet ups and her being in his discord server (where i mod) she kind of became pretty well known to us.

an important thing to note is that she's SUPER neurodivergent and she's had a really tough life. she lost her older brother a few years back and she's (i'm not sure of the correct way to put it, her family is originally from the netherlands and their english is kind of in the works so this is how they put it) developmentally behind a few years - her parents describe this as her being "mentally more 13 than 15" but her behaviour to me is even younger than that. she's very very innocent and trusting, very overemotional and sensitive to criticism etc, loves stuffed animals and pink and cartoons and all of that. she's told me she feels like a little kid sometimes and will talk/act like one so maybe there's an element of trauma-rooted age regression there, i'm not super sure - i'm not gonna get into detail but she's talked to me about her life a lot and she's had some pretty fucked up shit happen to her.

from the beginning she pretty much imprinted on me - she's told me before i remind her of the big brother she lost, and ever since then she's called me her "big brother" and "family" etc. at first i was more just playing along with it to make her happy but over time she really has become something like a little sister to me, i feel super protective of her. i want to become a teacher after college (not to mention eventually a parent with my fiancee) so i think at least part of it is that taking a kid 'under my wing' so to speak is giving me experience with it all. i've always been kinda paternal/protective over kids in general but i was the youngest sibling in my family so i never really had anyone to utilise that on before

she does rely super heavily on me emotionally, especially because after i found out she was being bullied pretty badly at school i started dropping by to keep her company during breaks/lunch and making sure shit was okay (which her still-living brother used to do, but he's a famous?? - unsure How famous, i don't know sports at all - footballer/soccer player who's often in another country and can't see her often anymore), and i've been working with her to curb that. i'm actually currently working with her parents to find her a good therapist and support system. she's no longer in the tiktok friend's discord just because it was getting a little all-consuming for her and we encouraged her to take a break, but she's done a TON of work on herself and maturing since then and she does plan to rejoin at some point soon.

however, i find it really really hard to gauge whether being so close with a child is... like normal? or not. i honestly can't tell if it's kind of the internet caution about adults talking to minors kind of warping my brain and making me overly wary of what people will think or if i'm doing something wrong or if it's genuinely like a weird situation, so i guess i'm looking for outside perspectives.

the things that make me question it is that like i said she's very 'mentally young', she's very sheltered, and there definitely seems to be an element of her kind of replacing the older brother figure she lost with me. on top of that, we met through her being a fan of my friend, and though she's now separate from that i worry there could still be an element of power there because i'm close with the guy she calls her idol. her family knows me and seem totally chill with everything, but they've told me she tells people at her school that i'm literally her brother and basically 100% talks about me as if i'm her biological family, which i find super sweet but at the same time wonder if it's healthy.

she obviously needs therapy and hopefully soon we can get her it, but: AITA for entertaining a sort of found family dynamic / friendship at all with someone very vulnerable and young or is this genuinely helpful for her?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[titlemewickedwonderland]

Mine (Swiss Ghoul x Fem!OC)

Summary: After escaping her toxic ex-boyfriend Y/n runs to the only place that had ever made her feel safe. As a long-term friend of Copia and his ghouls she swears that she is destined to be alone forever because of her poor taste in men; what happens though wen one of her best friends disagrees and confesses something very important that may alter the relationship between them?

Fandom: Ghost (Swedish Band)

Pairing: Swiss x Fem!Reader

Triggers: Cussing, innuendos, mention of mental and physical abuse

Auth. Note: The portrayal of Ghouls and Papa is from a fandom base and imagination alone; the personas of the band do not have anything to do with the real people behind the masks. I am a fan of their music and respect their privacy so their stage persona is separate from the real-life individuals in my works.

My Workshop

She squeezed her eyes shut tightly and her teeth sank into the plush of her bottom lip as her skin sparked with fire that made it tingle. She could image the torn skin bubbling around the edges as the antiseptic killed any germs or debris that may have managed to get into her wound. She did not whimper though - she could at least take pride in that. She did not utter a sound to express the pain. It's not like the worst has come yet. A rough padded thumb pressed against her mouth gently but insistent as it pulled her lip from between her teeth as a hum broke the silence in the dimly lit room.

The lamp on the desk was their only source of light; the darkness that did not reach its border seemed foreboding and cold in the dead of night. A quick glance at the old circular clock on the wall by the door read it as nearly 2:00 a.m. in the morning causing a new sensation of guilt to tug at her heart; distracting her from the pain on her face.

"Mi cara, you should have told me sooner." his voice was soft and tinged with the readiness for sleep.

Y/n's eyes shifted from the clock to the man in front of her. Her vision was aided only by the yellowed light of the lamp beside them casting wary shadows along the man's unpainted face and the dark circles beneath his eyes causing him to take on the appearance of a human panda. His hair with brushed back but only by natural force instead of the hair gel she was used to and in this light, it looked a little greyer than usual - the black hair dye must have faded since the last time she saw him.

But instead of answering him, she reached out to playful swipe at the hair above his lips. "This is new. I don't know if I like it yet or not." she teased but the man's lips only curved downwards further causing her to sigh and drop her head a little - dislodging the attempts of cleaning the cuts along her face.

"What would you have done Copia? Whisked me away to hide me in the Abbey like a long lost remnant of the past? I'm not a little girl anymore, I can't always be relying on you to protect me like before." Y/n's voice sounded pessimistically fed up and tired.

Copia huffed out a breath and waved his hands. "Of course, I would have taken you away! You are no lost remnant of the past, principessa. You are a treasure and one of my closest friends. No... you are famiglia! Why do you insist on returning to him when you know he will only hurt you again? Won't you say yes and stay here?" the man's words ended almost pleading as his mismatched eyes stared at the younger woman in front of him with sadness in his eyes and anger in his blood.

Y/n had been such a great friend for the last several years. Before he had ever been chosen to be the next Papa, Copia was nothing but a Cardinal and in most eyes not as important as a papa but Y/n had always treated him with kindness and with humanity - treated him like a lost long friend from the get-go. He met her through his brother Terzo who was papa before him. She had been a good friend to Terzo and often visited the Abbey; making friends with the Clergy and Ghouls alike with her sunshine spirit, unique humor, and infectious smiles. Despite never joining the Clergy officially everyone who had known her during that time thought her part of the family. She just...stopped coming around after Terzo's death except on the rare occasion like tonight when she'd slink back in for safety with her tail between her legs covered in cuts and bruises because of her new boyfriend of a few months. He did not deserve her and Copia could never find it in himself to force her to stay in the safety of those she knew would never lift a finger unlike the stupid boy she dated - a boy not worthy enough to be called a man.

"I'll just...I just needed to clear my head Copia and-"

the door to papa's office burst open and a figure bent over with hands on their knees panting. Nostrils flared and hair askew from sleep stumbled in the pack with eyes filled with a frenzy. Y/n hadn't seen the ghouls often without their masks and the sight was always a wonder more than a fright to see them unglamoured with their ashen skin, claws, fangs, and extra appendages.

"Oh for satanas-" Copia threw the blooded cotton ball he had been using to clean Y/n's cuts with on the table and began to stand up but a deep growl that sounded near feral vibrated within the office and the man halted mid-motion.

Ghouls were not always as dangerous as most people would like to think. Well, not to Y/n who knew how to handle them. They were rather domesticated as they lived lives as mostly humans despite being creatures of Hell. So the woman did not startle when a lithe frame bolted forward and she was jerked forward by her shoulders. An unmasked face buried itself into her neck and she felt the puffs of exhaled warm breath along the skin of her neck as she craned it to the side submissively allowing the ghoul to take in her scent.

There was another growl of disapproval and anger as the creature pulled back and Y/n was faced with the fierce glare of the Multi Ghoul Swiss as he assessed the damage to her face.

"Tell me." his voice was pitched much lower and deeper than the usual light-hearted bantering tone she was used to. "Tell me who did this to you." he demanded

Y/n swallowed unable to look away from his piercing stare and somewhere behind the ghoul Aether's familiar tone pitched in with an apologetic look on his face.

"We smelled the blood as soon as you came into the abbey. We were worried..."

Y/n's lips curled slightly into a reassuring smile as she raised her hands to grab at the strong forearms bare and warm beneath her touch in hopes to soothe the agitated ghoul.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you guys...I forgot you guys could smell that far...I-I thought if I just came to Copia and get patched up I'd be gone by the morning and you wouldn't have to see me like this..." she trailed off.

The ghouls were always so protective and sweet with her but she and Swiss had a special bond - he was like her best friend and easy banter and flirtiness were their love language. Never had she seen him look so..so upset and feral before. Casting her gaze away from Swiss she looked over his shoulder to find Aether standing by the door watching a very irritated fire ghoul pace in front of them while Rain leaned against Mountain who was guarding the door watching with worried green and blue eyes alike. Dew was pacing back and forth; clawed hands flexing while every once in a while he'd look her way only to growl every so often under the watchful gaze of Aether. the scent of blood must be getting to him; Dewdrop was always the most sensitive when it came to blood and she wouldn't have been surprised if he had been the one to smell her first and alert the others. Ghouls were just like that but if one of their own was injured the entire pack was on high alert.

"W-well now that you've been found out I suppose there is no use running away now hmm?" Copia sighed rising to his feet and rubbing a hand through his hair. "All of you off to bed now. Mi care you can stay-"

Swiss didn't allow Copia to finish and instead, his arms wrapped around the girl and hoisted her up so quickly she squeaked and wrapped around him like a koala. Thighs and arms holding on tightly as he braced her against his lean body and pushed past his pack mates to walk down the halls towards the Ghouls den.

"Swiss." Y/n grumbled feeling her cheeks flush in the darkness but due to the amazing night vision of these creatures, she knew he probably saw it anyway.

"Mountain can fix you up and then you're coming to bed with me." the multi-ghoul snapped back causing Y/n to wince at his tone.

He did not let go or say anything until they were safely back in the Ghoul's common rooms. She was directed into Swiss' familiar room filled to the brim with music posters, music sheets, instruments, and more shapes within the darkness Y/n was not able to make out as she was plopped on the large bed big enough for more than just two. Her back was pulled flush to Swiss' chest as he yanked her by her waist to him; curling around her from behind like some kind of inhumane ghoul cape causing warmth to spread through her as she heard the subtle sniffing and the almost inaudible growl the multi ghoul let out; it was almost so silent that she felt it against her back more than hearing it.

Mountain kneeled in front of the pair with a jar in his hand filled with some kind of creamy gel inside tinted a sickly green and when he opened it the scent of earth, pine, and something almost spicy invaded her nose making her cough when it got inhaled too deeply into her lungs. The tall ghoul gave a slight rumble of amusement before his attention was drawn toward the ghoul draped over her back.

"May I?" he asked quietly and Y/n's mouth turned into a confused frown as she glanced between the pair.

Why was Mountain asking Swiss' permission? She was the one that was injured but the way her best friend tensed against her back for a moment had her ignoring the silent question in her mind and reaching up to grab at the toned forearm wrapped around her chest and gave it a few soothing strokes with her fingers. That seemed to do the trick as she felt his body slacken against her again and Mountain made a soothing noise as if in thanks to the other before dipping his fingers into the sticky mess in the jar.

He reached out towards her face and the cold substance felt almost tingly against her skin as he carefully smeared it along the bruise on her cheekbone and then returned with a new dap of whatever cream it was to the cut on her other cheek causing her to hiss out in pain as the minty tingly feeling invaded the open cut with more potency than the antiseptic crap Copia had dabbed it with earlier. The sound of pain slipping from her caused Swiss to snarl startling her and lurch forward toward Mountain nearly tumbling her along with him but Mountain seemed to have already predicted it and jerked backward just as Rain who had by this point gone unnoticed grabbed Swiss by his shoulders from where he had been perched in the bed beside them silent as a mouse to tug him back against his smaller frame; a chittering noise coming from him as he tried to soothe the other.

Y/n half turned to look at the pair with wide eyes and a hand instinctively placing it on the heaving chest behind her. "Hey there big boy, it's okay! Calm down Swiss. Mountain didn't hurt me...it's okay." she tried to soothe with a fake smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Swiss bared his fangs again and struggled but despite the smaller frame of Rain at his back, the little ghoul was rather strong; strong enough to keep the other at bay.

"Mine!"

Y/n blinked and she inhaled sharply at the proclamation. Something in side of her seemed to click into place as she stared at how feral Swiss seemed to be and she reached out to test the theory as she rested her hand on Mountain's large shoulder only to have Swiss struggling anew and causing Rain to grunt when an elbow jabbed him in the stomach.

"Okay! Okay! Swiss hey! Look at me!" Y/n's hand yanked back and she flapped it at the other two quickly. "GO! I can handle this. You're just making him more agitated-"

"But Y/n-" Rain piped up and she shook her head once sharply.

"I think you know what's going on....and Swiss and I have to talk. But we can't talk if he's riled up right now...please just..." she sighed rubbing her forehead. "It's been a long night."

A long night that was not yet over as Mountain gave a brief nod and recapped the jar. Helping Rain off of Swiss so that the pair could slip from the room. As soon as Y/n and Swiss were alone the lanky male pulled the girl to him. Sprawling her unceremoniously on top of him as he held her almost too tightly while burying his face into her neck.

"Oof!" Y/n pushed at his stomach to get leverage but it only caused the other to tighten his hold.

So Y/n waited while Swiss calmed down enough for her to shift into a more comfortable position. Her face lifted to meet his in the dimly lit room.

"I'm going to kill him."

"You can't kill Mountain, Swiss."

The other snorted and pressed his nose against her hair; inhaling her scent like it was the last thing on earth. "I'm talking about the bastard that hurt you."

Y/n went silent. She didn't need to ask how he knew who it was; the ghoul's scent was inhuman - that was already proven when the pack barged into Copia's office earlier.

"He is my boyfriend...well I mean, ex-boyfriend now I guess." Y/n found herself relaxing with her head resting against her best friend's shoulder while she tucked herself into his body.

"He usually doesn't go this far...But, he said that I was cheating on him with my co-worker because he saw me eating lunch with him. It was a meeting to discuss a project we were working on together as a team...Ironically, my co-worker is actually gay so. Jokes on him."

"Is this the same guy....you said you met on that dating app a few months ago? Is that why you haven't been coming by as often?" Swiss' voice finally spoke into the darkness

She shrugged slightly and played with the fabric of his sleep shirt. "Yeah...I guess. I'd like to say it was because of work but...I think we both knew it wasn't. I'm sorry...for not telling you sooner. I usually called Copia to meet me outside so my scent wouldn't get to you guys..." She felt her eyes sting with tears.

"I've been so fucking stupid. I'm sorry Swiss...I'm so fucking sorry." her body trembled with her tears and the ghoul felt his heart tighten as did his arms around her to hold her still against him.

"Aw sweets, you didn't have to hold it from me...you're my best friend...me and the pack...for satanas sake Y/n we'd have pulled you out of there sooner, baby." he closed his eyes tightly and hugged her for his own comfort as much as hers.

They held each other; taking comfort for the turmoil that resided in both of their hearts due to tonight's endeavor. But it was Y/n that finally calmed down enough to speak; her voice suddenly shy as she sniffed back the rest of her tears.

"Hey Swiss..." she asked tentatively. When she received a lulling hum that vibrated into her chest from his she continued. "W-what did you mean earlier?...."

"Hmm?"

"You told Mountain..." she swallowed. "You called me yours."

Swiss' body still unnaturally so beneath her and she feared she'd said something wrong. They were best friends...it wasn't as if they hadn't talked about such things before. Well, perhaps more sexual innuendos before but that was teasing jokes and jabs. The question seemed too personal and yet a delicate matter.

"What do you know about ghouls, Y/n?" Swiss finally asked and she blinked at the soft question.

"Well, I mean you're demons...you got abilities... you're packing animals in a way and a little animalistic at times since you're not human...And you were summoned here for a reason. Why?" she tilted her head up to find that surprisingly Swiss' ashen skin was tinged with blush and he wouldn't meet her gaze.

"What comes with being a pack animal?" he insisted licking his lips

Y/n frowned thoughtfully but when she didn't reply Swiss continued. "Every creature has a partner...some animals have homosexual partnerships and others normal; some when are in close pack dynamics there is more than one partner they spend the rest of their lives with...but to continue the species every animal must have a significant other...have you ever noticed how Rain and Mountain seem close? Closer than the usual familial pack dynamics? O-Or how Dew and I are close in the same way..."

He watched slowly as the information dawned on her and Y/n pushed herself up with a pinched brow. "Are you telling me Mountain and Rain are life partners and you and Dew too?" she blinked at him. "I mean no judgment from me obviously but damn. That's news." she laughed a bit and sat up to sit crisis cross on his bed.

Swiss looked a bit frustrated as he too sat up. "Sweetheart you aren't understanding...Mates are overly protective of each other and have a stronger bond that goes deeper than a pack dynamic bond. The way Dew was acting when we barged in tonight at Copia's office...h-how I acted earlier...and nearly tore Mountain's throat out?" his eyes were insistent as he leaned closer scanning her face.

Realization dawned slowly like the sun rising over the horizon during sunrise and Swiss felt his heart constrict with nerves. "Swiss are you...."

His breath came out like a balloon popping and his head dropped to his head. "Shit baby. Dew doesn't even realize it yet...I had figured it out during your last visit before Tero's death but I didn't want to say anything because I was scared to scare you off..I didn't realize that I had almost lost you and when I saw you tonight I just- the blood...the knowledge..the fact that I hadn't seen you in such a long time I just-"

Y/n's hands gripped the front of his shirt and she was yanking him in before he could finish his ramblings. His mouth tasted too damn good as she pressed her lips to his. Her eyes were squeezed shut as she took in the sensation of kissing her best friend - it was so natural and made her feel whole...loved in a way she hadn't in such a long time. It was nothing like kissing her ex-boyfriend and a small part of her brain stupidly smacked her for being so blind to have seen the signs earlier.

When the air became too thin within the confinements of their lungs they parted with panting breaths but Swiss kept her close with a firm hold on her face; pressing his forehead to hers and crowding her against the mattress where she lay flat on her back staring up at him with wide eyes as she searched his face.

"You didn't lose me." her words came shaky as her hands loosened in his shirt only to slide up his back to hold him closer to her. "I'm sorry I was so blind...I didn't realize," she whispered feeling her throat constrict thinking that she'd isolated herself for so long because of her ex-boyfriend she missed out on finding the man she really wanted all along was right in front of her.

"Shh..." Swiss' lips pecked hers again before drawing her into another deep kiss - this time it was sweet and lingering. "I would have waited...shit, I would have been happy just to be near you even if you never knew..."

"I wouldn't have...I would have missed you and the others...the abbey and the papas too much to stay arm's length away from you guys. You guys are my home." her eyes sparkled looking up at him and Swiss shot her a toothy grin.

"So...you gonna stay?"

"Do I have a choice?" she teased rubbing her nose against his and was rewarded with a chittering sound as the multi-ghoul lowered himself fully on her and rested his head against her chest; listening to her heartbeat.

"Not anymore." his hands gripped her sides to hold her as he nuzzled at her collarbone.

Y/n laughed and sank her fingers into his curls and scraped at his scalp like she knew he liked it. "I'm all yours Swiss." she promised.

"Uh...well actually.." Swiss tilted his head up with a tentative smile.

She linked at him. "Dew doesn't know does he?"

"Well...no."

"Oh, I'm so telling him!"

"You are not!" fingers pressed to her sides causing her to shriek in laughter and wiggle beneath his hold.

When she couldn't breathe anymore Swiss stole whatever breath she did have left in her lungs with a kiss before pulling away to stare down at her. His hand came up to stroke along the side of her face and he gave her a softened smile as he rested their foreheads together again.

"Well, I suppose I can get used to my boyfriend having a boyfriend..." Y/n finally conceded with an airy but playful tone. "However will I handle two boyfriends to love me?"

Swiss grinned "Oh...I have a few ideas...." his grin turned a little more seductive and Y/n felt her heat flush.

"No...Swiss hey...no! Bad ghoul!" she scrambled from beneath him - a feat she knew he allowed while she scampered across the room and flung open the door with a wail of excited panic.

"Dew!!!"

Swiss gave a toothy grin that nearly split his face before he was launching himself down the hall full force into a chase.

Auth. Note: This is my first Ghost Band one shot so I hope it's not too bad and is entertaining at best for you guys! I love this band so much that it's unhealthy. More to come if people are interested! I have a full list of one-shots for this fandom <3

#the band ghost #swiss ghoul #swiss army ghoul #cardinal copia #ghost band #ghost #nameless ghouls #Ghost oneshot #Swiss Ghoul oneshot #Swiss ghoul x reader

[grumpyeagleandfriends]

Outpace Us All - Ch. 4 - Santiago Fic

A/N: Set two years after the mission in Colombia. The boys walked away with enough money to begin new lives back home. Santiago divides his time between being an investigator and a short-term foster care provider with the state. He begins to question himself and his ability to do good after he has several run-ins with a young boy in a delicate situation. As he is trying his best to help this kid through a tragedy, he begins to rely heavily on his complicated relationship with Frankie.

Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Original child character. Frankie is a single dad who owns a diner. Santiago and Will are cops. Benny is Benny.

Rating: Adult

Word Count : 11,000

Warnings: Men loving men. Sex. Cursing. Mentions blood and violence. Mentions drug use. Some lines of Spanish dialogue, which I include as a warning only because I am a non-native speaker.

Masterlist

___________________________________

Wednesday, October 9th, 2021. 7:45 AM

They were only four days in, but the situation of Samuel and his mother still remained mysterious. Hardly any of the questions brought up that night at the police station had answers. 

All Santiago did know was that the kid was cleared to stay at his place for at least another week. Depending on how things developed over the next few days, the duration could be prolonged. For the moment, a week’s worth of visibility was the only bit of clarity they had. 

Santiago recognized that there was a high possibility of Samuel's stay in care being stretched to two or three weeks. The longest emergency foster he had ever hosted was a little over two months. There was no official timeline or exact definitions given by the state of California, but emergency stays that lasted much longer than a couple months usually started to bleed into a different category. If Sonia's situation didn’t begin to show signs of improvement, then their case would inevitably change in the eyes of the law. If that were to happen, Sam would formally enter the foster system and require a placement in a more long-term setting. Santiago's home would need to be made available once more for other emergency cases. In the best of circumstances, Sam would go live with another family. In the event that there wasn’t an available home that was a good fit for him, he could also be sent to a group facility. 

Thinking about either outcome didn't feel particularly great, so Santi decided to stay focused on what was currently in his control. For the time being, he could provide Samuel with a roof and a bit of stability. The rest was outside of his sphere of influence. 

As it currently stood, things with his mother were complicated.

Even though Santiago left his number with Sonia and encouraged her to call or text whenever, all of their communication continued to pass through Dana. 

They were set to have a phone call with her later that evening, but in the back of his mind, Santiago was wary of the possibility that it might not happen. Sam's confession to fearing his mother abruptly leaving him still rang fresh in his memory, but he felt that it was important to look at things objectively. There was still so much he didn't know, and this situation didn't quite feel like other cases he had seen. This woman didn't fit the profile of someone who abruptly abandons a child, even if her young son seemed convinced that she was going to try. 

Despite everything, there had been an update the night before that was positive. 

Dana explained to Santi in a text that Sonia was already pre-approved for public housing. They would just have to wait for her paperwork to be processed and for whenever the next unit would become available. She was also in the early interviewing process for a new job, in what field exactly Dana hadn’t specified, but things were progressing. She still wouldn’t give any answers about what happened in the weeks and months leading up to her eviction. Dana and the staff at the shelter tried their best to coax any amount of details out of her, but she held strong to giving them only vague non-answers.

They were being led to believe that everything about her situation was simply due to hard luck. Nothing more. 

Samuel was their only other potential source for information, and he was just about as tight-lipped as Sonia. 

Santiago was already beginning to see the impact of everything on the boy. He wore the markers of someone who carried an unabated stress, like something under the surface was quietly eating away at him.

Samuel was undeniably well-behaved, but not in a easy going, mild-mannered way. He displayed a level of discipline that was disconcerting for a boy his age. His bed was always made. He knew to put his things away and how to fold his clothes nicely. Every day it looked like he was making a conscious effort to leave as little a trace as possible of his existence in the house. 

He regularly picked and chewed at his fingers, to a point where his cuticles were irritated and red. Saturday evening when they went to the supermarket, Santiago turned around from looking at cereal to find dried blood caking Samuel’s fingertips. With a fair amount of difficulty, he managed to fight the urge to scold the behavior. Instead, he found the public restrooms at the back of the store and sent him to go wash his hands. They later made their way to the check-out line with a couple boxes of band-aids thrown into the cart. 

Sleep seemed to be another issue for him. The hushed sounds Santiago thought he imagined coming from across the hall the first evening were now a nightly occurrence. He would lay there in his own room, listening to Sam's bed creak from tossing and turning, only to be interrupted by noises that hovered between sobs and whispered pleas. It was impossible to be sure, but it was almost like muffled prayers being spoken into the dark. 

Over the last few days they struggled to find something close to a routine. Santi took him to school in the mornings, picked him up in the afternoons. Later that day he planned to surprise him with a stop by Frankie's on the way home.  

Sam seemed torn between absolutely hating Santiago while simultaneously needing to follow his every move around the house. He spent a lot of time glaring and trying to look angry, but couldn't hide the fact that he didn't seem okay with being left alone. He would always try to hover in or around whatever room Santi was in, pretending to ignore him. It wasn't necessarily bothersome, but Santiago did find himself growing slightly exasperated by having suddenly acquired this disgruntled and mute second shadow. 

The only times Sam really spoke at length were during the rides to and from school. For whatever reason, there in the back seat of the truck, he felt comfortable enough to voice a small part of whatever was passing through his mind. He would often ask several questions in a row - usually about his mother, but sometimes there were surprises. 

Is my mom staying at someone's house or in a hotel? 

Is she in trouble? Is it kind of like a jail?

Does she get to go outside?  

Are there animals?

Is there a pool? 

Why don't you have any animals? 

Why can't I take the bus to school? 

In the space of a single car ride, it was impressive just how many questions he could fire out. Santi figured that it was maybe his way of trying to make sense of what was happening in his world - a grasp for some semblance of control.

That Wednesday was no exception. They were slowly crawling along in the thick morning traffic. The unusually heavy rain from the weekend was gone, leaving only crisp autumn air and a starkly clean blue sky. The song "Don't Fear the Reaper" was coming to an end on the radio. During the brief lull between each track in the DJ's morning mix, Santiago could hear the sound of Sam steadily picking at his fingers. 

They were about to exit off of the freeway when a voice piped up from the back seat. 

"Santiago?" 

He glanced briefly at the rearview mirror to find the kid staring in his direction. 

"Yeah?" 

There was a stretch of silence where he sensed that Sam was working up the courage to ask whatever was on his mind, but what finally came out took him by surprise. 

"Are you a cop?" 

It was asked in a manner that wasn't at all spontaneous, it was clear that he'd been thinking carefully about the matter for some time. The boy sat back with the seatbelt crossed over his chest, looking down at his lap as he awaited the response.

"Kind of..." Santiago began to thoughtfully chew at the inside of his cheek as he came to a stop at a red light. The conversation about what he did for a living was one he was used to having around other adults. It was surprising that he felt just as defensive about his choice of work even here in the presence of a child. 

"So, I'm a detective." He started. "Which means that I help lead investigations. Do you know what the difference is between me and most of the police you see?" 

He caught sight of Sam once again in the rearview mirror. 

The boy frowned as he shook his head. "No."

"Cops usually patrol out on the street. They're the ones you see in black and white squad cars." Santi explained as he turned onto the last street before Sam's school. A quiet groan left him the moment he caught sight of the long stretch of cars and school busses sat between them and the drop off point. His fingers restlessly drummed against the steering wheel. 

He reached over and cut the radio before turning around to look directly at Sam. 

"Those cops drive around looking to stop crime from happening. Detectives like me don't really do that. We sit at a desk most of the day. We only really go out when there is something to investigate, so that means that the crime has already happened." 

Samuel seemed to think over his words for several moments. He stared out the window, watching as older children advanced up the street on foot towards the school.

"But you've got a badge like a cop." He rebutted.

"I do." Santi agreed as he craned his neck to try and see past the long line of cars. He toyed with the idea of parking on a side street and walking Sam up himself. 

"I don't like cops." 

Samuel's confession was stated plainly, with no anger or malice. His tone of voice carried the same level of indifference as if he were talking about a vegetable that he doesn't eat.

"Oh yeah?" Santiago considered him through the rearview mirror, watching the way he disinterestedly fidgeted with the nylon straps of his backpack. "Why's that?"

He thought back to the night he picked him up at the police station, to the scene he found taking place in that hallway. He began to wonder about the likelihood that maybe the encounter hadn't been Sam's first bad experience with police. 

"Cause..." He began with a shrug, only the dark curls at the crown of his head were visible while his eyes remained trained down at his hands. "They ask too many questions."

Santi never had the chance to ask for any further clarification. The carpool line had progressed rapidly, effectively bringing the conversation to a swift close. He managed to quickly exchange a one-sided goodbye before Sam jumped out from the backseat. He watched for a few seconds as his blue backpack marched off toward the steps of the school. 

___________________________________

Wednesday, October 9th, 2021. 1:00 PM.

The office had a certain level of noise going at all times. Phones ringing. Tapping keys while someone typed. Chairs rolling across the floor. It was an open concept workspace. People were constantly walking in and out. The adjacent hallway was always reverberating the loud clanking doors on either end. 

Will's concentration flourished in that sort of environment. His mind was able to soften all the individual noises to a dull roar, turning it all into soft static that played in the background while he filled out reports and progressed through his schedule.

He and Santiago worked side by side. Their desks were back to back just outside of their head of unit's office.

Santi was the exact opposite in that he hated the office noise. Often he would ask for Will's help to fill out paperwork because he couldn't string coherent sentences together with all the distractions happening around them - the chatter that would build up near the office coffee machine, the people randomly filing in and out of the meeting rooms, the phone they shared between their two desks ringing every other hour. All that time he spent following cartel activity out in the jungle had changed his threshold for sensory input. Two years later and he still struggled to recalibrate. 

There were times when it bordered on overload. In those moments, Santiago would push away from his desk in frustration, announcing that he needed air before getting up and taking aimless strolls through the hallways and stairwells to clear his mind. He often needed those breaks. From the moment he joined on with the narcotics division, he always preferred to take his lunches outside. He was far from the only one, certainly, but Will couldn't think of one time where Santi chose to bring in leftovers or a sandwich from home. He always went out to grab food, run errands, or go to a nearby park to walk. 

Sitting in the breakroom and shooting the shit with other colleagues wasn't ever going to be his thing, and that was okay. Will didn't talk him in to joining the force because he needed him to socialize.  

It was precisely 1 o'clock when he came strolling back in from his lunch break. A takeaway coffee was securely nestled in one of his hands, a large shopping bag dangled from the other. 

Will didn’t look up in his direction, but could still hear the moment he paused mid-step as he spied the cream colored envelope left sitting on his keyboard. It bore the official seal of the Sacramento police department’s bureau of professional standards.  

“Came in while you were at lunch.” Will explained over his shoulder. 

Santiago’s eyes squinted to read the label as he took the envelope into his hands. There was an official looking gold and blue seal embossed over the back, with his name and desk number clearly addressed on the front. 

"You mind sharing why the Lieutenant of Professional Standards is noticing you?”

Will's voice was calm as he presented the question, but he felt the beginnings of a familiar anger rising up within him. He had brought Santiago on with Narcotics not just because he knew that he was overqualified for the job, but also because he knew how badly he needed the distraction. They all noticed how he closed in on himself after Colombia, but Frankie had been the one to see first hand just how deep Santiago's spiral went. 

Will never wanted to know the details of what transpired between the two of them that one weekend, but he was able to deduce enough for himself. Whatever shit that had been brewing off in the distance must have come to shore, because ever since they seemed to be silently weathering that storm together- silently in front of everyone. Will didn't need to ask any questions. He just saw that Santi needed to be saved from himself, so he tried to do his part and talked him into the job as a means of protecting him, as a means of keeping him close. 

But Santiago was one of those people who couldn't be kept out of trouble. He had an innate desire to go searching for it himself, always under the premise of some self-righteous bullshit.

“Shit, this came today?” He whispered in disbelief as he looked down at the envelope. 

With a gentle thud, he settled down onto his own desk chair, attention fixed to where his name, office floor, and desk number were neatly printed across the front. His finger quickly slid underneath the flap to break the adhesive seal. A few pieces of stapled paper were neatly folded inside. 

Santiago left Will’s question to hang in the air between them as he began to read over the documents. There were several lines of formalities before he finally arrived at the essential information. 

"This letter is to inform you that a unique system tracking number has been allocated to your filed report. You will be notified by the department as soon as report #10D53335F8296 has been assigned an investigator and upon the completion of the initial preliminary review..."

Santi ripped his eyes away from the papers to find Will staring at him, one eyebrow threatening to arch in a silent demand that he be filled in. 

"On Monday I filed a complaint about an officer." He supplied, his voice kept purposefully to a murmur as he continued to scan over everything. 

Attached were several similarly worded documents informing him that over the course of three days his complaint had astonishingly progressed through the first steps outlined in the opening letter. A civilian investigator had officially been matched to his case and had already begun the preliminary review. He was given a time and date to be interviewed about the incident. 

Will dragged a hand over his mouth. He took a slow inhale before looking back at the man still intently reading over the stapled documents. 

“You filed a complaint for what?”

“Improper force." Santiago responded while promptly re-folding everything and neatly fitting it back inside the envelope. "The cop on duty the night I picked up Sam was out of line. So I notified the supervisor of his unit. She advised me to formally file a complaint so it would be on record.”

Will's eyes narrowed as he listened. 

“You filed this Monday and they responded today? That doesn't seem right." 

He sat forward in his seat, nodding over to the envelope in his hands. 

"Mind if I take a look?" 

Santi shrugged before handing over the documents. “They just want me to attend a meeting. Give my side of the story...”

Will silently read over each page, seeming unable to accept Santiago's dismissal of the situation. His expression remained neutral as he analyzed the details, convinced that there should be some sort of error. He knew well enough how these things worked. Normally it was a question of months before anything went anywhere, not days. 

"What's the officer's name?" He whispered, still intently reading. 

“Powell.” Santiago replied before draining the last of his coffee. "Some young rookie who was on patrol the night Sam was picked up."

There was a minute twitch in Will's features before he let out a low whistle.  

Santi couldn't pretend to have missed his friend's reaction. "What's that look?" He insisted while taking the letters back. 

Their eyes met. Will could only shake his head as he settled back in his chair. 

“For your sake, Pope, I hope he's not related to Deputy Chief Powell.”

"So what if he is?"

Santiago wore a mirthless smirk before he turned around to face his own desk. Powell could be related to the head of the CIA for all he cared. He would still go to that stupid formality of a meeting, give his version of what happened, maybe get Dana to corroborate if necessary, and then it would stop there. Powell would at most get a slap on the wrist, but there would at least be documentation of his conduct somewhere. Maybe it could serve the next person who might need to report him for something. 

Will didn't entertain his question. He recognized that it wasn't worth the back and forth. Santiago's bleeding heart and his need for the last word were things that he knew too fucking well.

___________________________________

Wednesday, October 9th, 2021. 3:30 PM.

Every day so far after school, Santiago had taken to picking up Samuel at the park directly across the street. While he waited for the dismissal bell to chime, he found himself reflecting on their conversation from that morning. Currently, there was a general feeling of mistrust hanging over his house, and he was fairly certain that the sentiment went both ways. 

The first few months after returning from Colombia, he lived on edge. The money they stole belonged to more people than just Lorea. The list of dangerous individuals who would be looking for answers was long. Despite how careful he had been in-country to destroy any trace pointing to him or the boys, he couldn’t shake the paranoia that followed him home. Every night he would make the rounds in his own house, checking all of the windows and locks. He installed a security system with cameras. He looked frequently in the rearview mirror while driving. Whenever he couldn’t sleep, he peered through the blinds to survey the street outside.

Even though the paranoia began to fade after the first six months, Santiago never really lost those habits. 

After the kid tried to run away on Saturday, he found himself once more making the rounds to make sure that all windows and doors leading outside were properly secured. Santi had no choice but to keep his house keys either in his pocket or locked in his nightstand. It only seemed to further cement their roles as jailor and detainee, but for the sake of Sam’s safety he couldn't risk making the same mistake twice.

Due to the abrupt nature of how most placements were brought to his home, Santi regretted how difficult it was to build a rapport with them. The past few days with Sam were proving to only be more of the same. Most of their interactions so far felt like forms of interrogation, so he couldn't exactly blame the kid for not liking him. 

He worried that staying in a foster home while his mother was in a shelter felt like something akin to punishment. 

The afternoon sun blazed down onto the concrete and the rooftops of cars. The crisp autumn air from that morning was gone, as the heat of summer desperately tried to make one of its last appearances before the cold weather officially took over everything. All of the kids walking up to their respective rides had abandoned their morning jackets for short sleeves. They were chatting happily, buzzing with energy as they shoved at each other and ran around. 

As he scanned through the crowd for signs of Samuel, Santiago couldn't keep from thinking about how different he was from these children. Their steps seemed light and easy, their sleep at night was probably unburdened and peaceful. 

Amongst the throngs of pupils walking along to find their parents, Samuel abruptly appeared alone. With his head bowed, he slipped between the small packs of kids to hurry towards the truck. His movements were quick, his sneakers pushed off hard against the sidewalk as soon as he caught sight of Santiago's truck. The moment he yanked the door open and clambered up into the backseat, he skipped right past saying hello. 

"-When are we going to call?"

A gentle scoff escaped Santiago as he turned back to the front to readjust his seatbelt. He could only shake his head while shifting the truck into reverse. 

"I told you already this morning, Sam. Not until after dinner. She's still busy during the day." 

The boy's face visibly soured at the answer. His backpack was promptly shrugged off and allowed to drop to the floorboards before he twisted around to grab his seatbelt. Since yesterday afternoon, he had been repeatedly reconfirming with Santiago the timing of the phone call. Whenever the subject crossed his mind, his body began to fidget with impatience. It had likely consumed his thoughts all day while at school, which only made Santi worry that he was potentially getting set up for another big disappointment. 

He had seen one too many times how phone calls with parents could fall through. It was a small, disruptive blow that could be so cruelly devastating for a kid in care. Having that dangling carrot ripped away unexpectedly just made their already difficult situation that much more unbearable.

Even the announcement of stopping by Frankie's didn't seem to lift Samuel's mood. That afternoon there were no unexpected questions fired from the backseat. They drove along listening to only the radio. 

The moment they pulled into the parking lot of the diner, a garish red instantly caught Santiago's eye. 

Parked in the very first spot by the front door, sat Benjamin Miller's pride and joy. Against the deep charcoal of the asphalt and the cool metal of the building's exterior, the gaudy paint job almost appeared to be glowing. 

Even Sam seemed to perk up in the back seat. As they slowly drove past, his head turned to continue peering out at the sportscar, his expression showing just how perplexed he was by the vehicle. It was easy enough to understand why. Next to all of the humble sedans and pick-up trucks, Benny's Ferrari looked like it descended from another planet.  

Maybe he likes cars, Santi quietly thought to himself as he found parking a few spaces down. 

They slid out from the truck into the balmy heat. Before he could properly close the door to the driver's seat, Sam was already scurrying past him. 

The boy balanced restlessly on the outer edges of his sneakers.

“How long are we staying here?” He squinted against the harsh late-day sun.

Santiago shot a dry look in his direction. He shook his head once more before locking the truck and joining him up on the curb. 

“Not too long. Thirty minutes, maybe.” 

Sam’s face fell at his answer. 

“Why?” Santiago demanded with a smirk. “You’ve got somewhere to be that I don’t know about? You got a part time job somewhere?” 

Even for a seven year-old, the rhetorical nature of the question didn’t go unnoticed. The boy was still a bit too young to master the art of rolling his eyes, but his stony expression conveyed the same message. He ignored the joke and turned on his heel.

Just before he could fully face away, an odd shaped hole at the collar of his t-shirt caught Santiago's eye. 

“Hey! What happened to your shirt?"

Sam didn’t turn back to him, but his head dipped forward as his hand reached up to press against the rip at his collar. It was a plain dark red t-shirt, one of the new things that he bought him recently. After a couple seconds of reflection, it dawned on Santiago that Sam had been wearing it every day to school since Monday. He hadn't been able to notice in the mornings because Sam was usually wearing his jacket. 

"Kid, have you been wearing the same shirt all week?" 

Santi felt almost guilty, wondering if the teacher at school had noticed him arriving every day in the same clothes. Instead of answering the question, Sam looked at him with the expression of a child who is trying to judge just how angry the adult confronting them might be. Santiago could once again feel their conversation hurtling towards that interrogation pattern of cop against fugitive, and he knew that he needed to back off. The last thing he wanted was to make a kid feel guilty over a seven dollar t-shirt. 

"Do you like that one a lot or something?" He asked easily. 

Sam continued to look unsure, but he nodded his head faintly.

Santiago didn't really know if he was being truthful or not, but it didn't matter. The truth surrounding why he didn't change his clothes for three days wasn't the real issue. He needed to find a way to help him stop feeling so wary around him. 

He only shook his head as he tsked in quiet disapproval. "What is that face for? C'mon, you're not in trouble." 

He lifted his baseball cap and pushed back some of the curls off his forehead before he walked over. "Look, it's fine. I ripped my jeans about every week when I was your age- drove my mom absolutely insane. I can buy you more in that color if you like it, but try to wear a different shirt every day, alright? People are going to think that I don't take care of you."

His hand dropped down onto the boy's shoulder, he gently steered him towards the diner. 

"C'mon, I'll let you meet the guy who drives that car." 

Together they began to head for the front door.

The late afternoon sun cast its glow through the windows of the bustling diner, covering the space with a warm autumn light. The air hummed with a mix of sounds. Conversations intermingled with the scraping of silverware, the clatter of dishes, all while the staff hurried back and forth from behind the bar to the tables. Unlike the last time when Santi brought Sam in the wee hours of the morning, the place was now packed. The entire neighborhood seemed to have the same idea to swing by after work and school. Patrons filled the cozy booths and the worn counter stools, the aroma of the sizzling grill, coffee, and homemade pies wafted through the air. 

Dead in the middle of the buzzing diner, Santiago's eyes honed in on the familiar figure of Benjamin Miller. He was sitting perched on a barstool at the counter, a basket of half-eaten onion rings set out in front of him. He wore a smile as he joked with someone standing on the other side of the kitchen window, probably Frankie. 

Despite himself, Santiago felt a grin crack his features the moment Benny spotted him.

He quickly stood from his barstool, loud voice booming over the dull roar surrounding them. 

“Ahh, there he is!” Benny brightly called. His tall figure was dressed in a sweat damp t-shirt and Carhartt work pants, a faded baseball cap turned backwards over his damp blond hair. He was no doubt fresh off from some project, probably flipping another house to sell.

Sam paused mid-step, unsure where to go in the busy space packed with people. Before Santiago's legs could collide into his back, his hands easily dropped down onto his shoulders. Silently, he guided the boy forward, steering them both in the direction of the counter. 

“Hola, Santiago… ”

Santi’s head spun at the familiar sound of a woman’s voice. 

Carla, Frankie’s second in command was shooting him a grin as she carried plates of food over to a table. 

“Oye, Carla, que tal? ” He brightly greeted over his shoulder. 

They reached where the younger Miller brother stood waiting for them at the counter, just across from the opening where orders were passed up from the back of the kitchen. 

“Where the hell have you been?” Benny grinned before firmly drawing Santi close. His large hand clapped hard against his back, making a hollow thumping noise that warmed his insides. 

He pulled a face of amused disbelief as he pulled away. “Ah, c’mon, we saw each other like three weeks ago.”

In his defense, it was true. Three weeks of absence was nothing at all compared to his previous track record, but now that he was stateside for good, his friends and family demanded more of him. His old excuse of working on the other side of the world didn’t fly anymore. 

Santi craned his neck to glance around at the filled tables. “Jesus, Ben, did you invite the entire block to come here with you?” 

“Yeah, told them Fish was paying.” Benny deadpanned before his eyes fell to Samuel. “Who's the kid?”

Sam’s hands held onto the straps of his backpack as he looked around to watch the bustle of the diner. 

“This is Sam. He’s staying with me for a while.”

Benny's eyebrows rose minutely before he could catch himself. He didn’t quite know what to make of the pair. He’d seen Santiago take in older boys, most of them old enough to at least have a learner’s permit. This one looked like he just learned to ride a bike without training wheels. 

"This is my friend Benny." Santi explained down to the boy planted in front of him. "He's the one who drives the red Ferrari outside." 

Samuel's gaze traveled slowly from Benny's work boots up to his face, seeming torn between being impressed and feeling some mild disbelief. 

For years Santiago had witnessed Benny have that effect on people. He didn't know him before their time together in the army, but Will always swore that he came into the world with that magnetic pull, and never for a second did Santi doubt it. Everything about Benny drew attention - his height, his loud voice, his ice blue eyes and disarming smile. The flashy car parked out front was just another cherry atop what was already a well-decorated cake. 

"Is Frankie around?" He asked, eyes already scanning for him amongst the kitchen staff. 

As a direct answer to his question, Frankie's broad back suddenly appeared through the door to the kitchen. He was busy lifting a white cook's apron over his head. Both his stride and posture read like he had been having a rough afternoon. 

It was all but confirmed when his mouth formed a tight apologetic smile the moment he caught sight of Santiago. He made his way over. 

"Two cooks called out today." He quickly offered. "Go ahead and sit down. Let me bus this table in the corner and I'll be right there."

His eyes never lifted to properly greet Santiago's, instead his hand only squeezed his bicep as he slipped past. 

"Y'alright, Fish?" Benny demanded.

"Yeah, yeah, I got it. Rush is almost over." He waved dismissively, speeding away to the other end of the diner. "Carla, you tell Angel that I got the dishwasher working again. No excuses for the dishes being backed up anymore!" 

"Sure thing, Frank." Carla sighed from where she stood at the cash register. "He's been like that all damn day." 

She looked up at Santiago as she muttered the last part. He craned his neck to follow Frankie, teeth gently worrying the inside of his cheek while he studied him. 

Benny didn't say anything, choosing instead to busy himself with clearing away his empty basket of onion rings. He stood and moved easily behind the counter like he was no different than any of the people actually on Frankie's payroll. He disposed of his trash and dropped the plastic basket with the others, only pausing to serve himself a glass of ice tea from the beverage fountain. 

“Hey, kid..." He called over his shoulder to Samuel. "Why's there a hole in your shirt?” 

Santiago watched as Sam slightly straightened in surprise, caught off guard to be suddenly the topic of conversation for Benny. Like before, his hand moved to defensively touch the aforementioned rip.

"Nothing." He mumbled.

“Nothing, huh?" Benny repeated before taking a mouthful of ice-tea, the familiar shine of amusement never leaving his eyes. "Sounds fake. What really happened? Did you get in a fight?” 

A short pause fell between them, where Samuel only stared at the man with a furrowed brow. Not sure that Benny's playful teasing landed, Santiago nearly opened his mouth to intervene before a faint half-smile slowly broke across the boy's face.

“No!” He quietly insisted.

“Uh-huh. Did you at least win?” Benny demanded, playfully wiggling his eyebrows as he munched on a piece of ice. 

"No!" Samuel looked down at the counter to conceal what could only be described as a bashful sort of grin. 

“Aha!" Benny quickly exclaimed. "You did win, didn’t you!”

Sam tried to make an exasperated face, but couldn't suppress his own urge to laugh. 

It was the only time Santiago could recall seeing him smile. Before he could even begin to dwell much on that realization, Frankie was making his way back over to where they were sitting.

"Cómo te va, Samuelito ?" He lightly nudged the boy's shoulder as he walked past.

He expertly slipped behind the counter, immediately beginning to search all around before brandishing a silver ice cream scoop. “How about some ice cream? I’ve got chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla.” 

Sam blinked at the new proposal. His mouth parted with initial hesitation, unsure of what he was supposed to say. There was a faint creak of the barstool as he turned to look at Santiago, his sable brown eyes asking if he had permission.  

“Yeah, it’s alright, go ahead.” Santi nodded to him. “-But just one scoop, Frank!” He quickly added, already familiar with the diner’s generous portion sizes. “I need him to eat dinner tonight.”

Frankie audibly scoffed at the proposal, mumbling "who eats just one scoop?" under his breath.

“Sociopaths.” Benny easily chimed in, never looking up from his phone.

Much to Santiago’s dismay, his protests only fell on deaf ears. He watched as two large balls of strawberry ice cream were scooped into a small bowl. They were dressed with a few jets of whipped cream and a wafer cookie before being promptly delivered to the space in front of his young charge.

His disapproval quietly dissolved into the back of his mind as he watched the way Samuel dug into his free dessert, his feet swinging in the air ever so slightly. By the time Santi looked over to issue a silent thank you to Frankie, the man had already disappeared back to the kitchen.  

“Are you coming to the cookout at Will’s this weekend?” Benny asked as he settled down on the open stool next to him.

Confused, Santi sharply twisted around to face him. “I just spent all afternoon next to your brother. Since when is he grilling?” 

“Since I just texted him to say that we’re cooking at his place this weekend.”

The explanation didn’t come as a surprise, but Santiago only gestured his head vaguely in Samuel’s direction.

“I don’t know, Ben. I'm not exactly free.”

“So what? Bring him.” Benny declared before standing on the foot rest of his stool. He abruptly craned over to peer through the open window to the kitchen. “Fish! Tell him he should bring the kid to Will’s!”

“Jesus-” Santi whispered, his hand softly hitting the counter top in exasperation. Discretion was a quality Benny seemed to abandon once in the civilian world. 

“You should bring him.” Frankie replied from the kitchen, never looking up from the order of food he was plating. “It’ll do you some good to have a break.”

It didn't take long for him to finally agree to stop by Will's place on Saturday. He didn't truthfully have a good enough reason not to go and the idea of sipping a beer on the immaculate deck in his buddy's backyard didn't sound too terrible. He didn't quite know what he would do to keep Sam entertained around a bunch of adults, but he half-suspected that Benny would take care of it for him. 

___________________________________

Wednesday, October 9th, 2021. 7:30 PM.

It took everything he had to keep Samuel occupied before they were meant to call Sonia. The boy rushed through his homework and through eating dinner. For the entire evening, his eyes never once stopped following Santi around - looking for any sign that it was finally time. The unvoiced question of "when" sat plainly between them. 

Santiago didn't know what to do with him in these moments. He didn't seem interested in TV. Multiple times he tried to sit Samuel down in front of cartoons while he went to do things around the house, but without fail he would abandon the bright colors and flashing lights to come find him. He would try sending him to go play, but that was an even bigger failure, though for reasons that admittedly weren't Samuel's fault. The only things remotely resembling toys lying around the house were several decks of playing cards and an old football that was too big for the kid's child-sized hands.

His only remedy to Samuel following him around was to give him little chores. Part of him worried that it would come across like a punishment, but to his surprise Sam was strangely eager to work alongside him. Things like sending him outside to pick up sticks in the yard while dinner cooked, getting him to help unload the dishwasher, setting the table - he was visibly content to have little jobs to perform, to be useful. 

Santiago made a note to call his own mother and ask if she had any of his old toys in storage. Even if it was a solution to make the time pass, giving the kid chores to occupy him felt a little too much like something out of a Dickens novel. He didn't know where that obedient part of his personality came from, but further exploiting it wasn't something he wanted to make a habit. 

A half-hour after dinner they finally went to the back bedroom to call Sonia. 

Samuel climbed up on to the desk chair this time, while Santiago sat down on the foot of the bed. 

His number must have been registered on a pre-approved list since the last call, because they were put directly through by the shelter. Much to Santiago's surprise, Sonia picked up on the very first ring. 

She sounded better than the last time they spoke with her. Her voice was lighter, less tired. Immediately she wanted to share good news with them. A new job had been offered to her at an insurance company. She would be able to start in a couple of weeks. They just needed to wait for the city housing office to place her and Samuel in an apartment. 

"It won't be long." She promised him repeatedly. "Just another week, sweetheart." 

After answering his many questions, she happily demanded to know everything about school and how we was doing. 

Santiago sat back and watched Sam as he began to recount the last three days in great detail. The good news had clearly lifted his spirits, but something about having his mother's undivided attention made him positively beam. Sides of himself that he never showed before began to peak their way through. He seemed to drop his serious demeanor as he talked about what they were learning at school and how he got to help feed the class pet that day. For once he began to sound like almost any other seven year-old. 

It made Santi think back to himself as a little boy. He could remember having some of the very same reactions and mannerisms- speaking animatedly with his hands while he told stories, using the occasional word in English when he couldn't quickly find what he wanted to say in Spanish. 

Sonia let Samuel rattle on for twenty-five minutes, lightly laughing as she listened and only ever stopping him to briefly ask one or two questions. 

Hearing his voice seemed to have the same effect on her as it did on him - it was both a source of comfort and sadness. 

Before long she made a quick excuse about needing to go. The way she said goodbye to her son and wished him goodnight was inexplicably rushed. 

___________________________________

Saturday, October 12th, 2021. 3:00 PM

Will’s backyard was impressive compared to the mix of patchy grass and dirt behind Santiago's house.

It was a space that was designed for a family, for entertaining lots of guests. Will didn't yet have the wife and kids element locked down, but Santiago knew he was working on it. Out of all of them, he was maybe the most cut out for that kind of life. He didn't ever talk about those sorts of things with him or Frankie, but Benny probably knew his plans for the future. They all used their shares of the Colombia money in various ways to rebuild their lives back home - each of them trying to construct something closer to what they had imagined for themselves - each with varying levels of success. Maybe for Will, using his time and money to carefully curate and care for this big house with a magazine-worthy backyard was a way of manifesting.

For now, it hosted their boys' nights and get-togethers with Will & Benny's extended family.

The grass was perfectly maintained, soft enough to comfortably walk on barefoot, with absolutely no prickly weeds or sharp little stones. There were large oak trees in the very back near the fence, the kind with low branches perfect for hanging a tire swing. There was a stainless steel double grill for large cookouts, a sand pit for playing horseshoes, even a built-in seating area on the deck that held a fire pit.

Samuel and Santiago were the last ones to arrive.

There was no bright red Ferrari in the driveway, but Santi recognized the black SUV out front as one of Benny's back-up vehicles. Frankie's truck was parked along the curb. 

Following the usual protocol, he led Samuel along the side of the house toward the back gate. Even Will’s side lawn was perfectly mowed, the tall wooden privacy fence stained an HOA-approved color. While balancing a small cooler of drinks under one arm, Santiago easily reached over the fence and unlatched the wooden door with his free hand.

Sam stayed close behind him as they entered the backyard, dutifully carrying the grocery store bag of burger buns they were tasked with bringing.

Already, he could hear the sounds of Benny’s laughter and Creedence Clearwater Revival from the outdoor speakers. The smell of grilled meat hung in the air, ambient mosquito lamps were lit around the back porch.

Will was unsurprisingly manning the grill when they walked up to the back deck. He was dressed in cargo shorts and flip-flops despite the autumn chill that was guaranteed to arrive once the sun went down.

“So this is your plus one?” He asked over his shoulder. The burgers sizzling away were left briefly unattended as he turned around to face them.

Santiago ushered Sam to stand in front of him. “Go ahead, say hi to Will.” He pressed.

Sam looked up from the plastic sack of buns he held against his belly, obediently mumbling a quick hi just loud enough to be heard.

“How’s it going, kid?” Will nodded to him before pointing to the table at the center of the deck. “Go set those over on the table for me, will you?”

The boy moved to follow his instructions. As Santiago worked at transferring his beers into the bigger communal cooler, he watched Samuel from behind, his gaze needlessly supervising while he went about the simple task. 

Will couldn’t keep himself from smirking. It was always the same with every new placement Santi took in. In the beginning he was always hypervigilant, needing to establish order so he could pass as a reliable authority figure. When most of the teenage boys he took in stood a full head taller than him, he had to play the bad cop over the first few days and make them earn his trust through curfews and chore lists. But before long he always eased up.

Seeing him with a child seemed to have completely morphed that old strategy. He stared after Samuel with the same energy as a mother hen, always looking to be a split second away from fretting over him.

Santiago caught Will watching him the moment he straightened up from filling the main cooler. His eyes narrowed as he craned his head to the side.

“What is your deal, Miller?”

Will could only shrug and shake his head before he turned back to the grill.

Frankie and Benny came out from the sliding glass door, a young black Labrador eagerly following behind them. The dog was just about at adult size, easily weighing over 60 pounds. His nails clicked across the deck as he scurried over to greet the newcomers.

His deep bark reverberated throughout the backyard before he suddenly lunged toward Samuel. Instinctively, Santiago’s hand gripped the boy’s shoulder. He abruptly stood up, ready to move himself in front to intercept, but Benny already had a firm hold on the dog’s leather collar. 

"Bo, settle down!" Will sharply called his dog's name. 

"He's fine. I've got him." Benny easily calmed the situation. “Big guy's just a little excited.”

Sam didn't back away from the overly energetic dog. He stood squarely planted in the same spot, grinning as he offered out a hand for him to smell.

“Atta boy, Sam.” Benny quietly praised, his grip still steady on the dog's collar. “Let him smell you first. When he sits down then you can pet him.”

Santiago watched as Bo finally dropped into a sitting position. Sam reached up to scratch at his ears. 

“You like dogs?” He asked him.

Sam nodded at the question. He leaned back as the dog’s pink tongue tried to lick his face, softly laughing as he attempted to dodge the overgrown puppy's affection.  

Santi thought back to conversations they held in his truck on the way to school in the mornings. Multiple times the kid had asked him why he didn't have any pets. Watching him confidently interact with Will’s dog showed that he clearly had grown up around animals.

A strange tension in his jaw slowly melted away, one that he hadn't even realized he was holding. A single corner of his mouth ticked upward in a hesitant smile. He began to wonder if maybe he overreacted a bit. In truth there had been no real danger. Will's dog was young but he was well trained. Even if that weren't the case, in this backyard surrounded by these four men, nothing bad would have ever happened to Samuel. 

He hadn't even noticed Frankie digging out a beer for him from the cooler. Cool and wet fingertips suddenly wrapped around his elbow, still dripping from the ice water. Santiago felt his chest deflate some as the frigid glass bottle was pushed against his open palm. He tried to lean into the man's touch, turning his head slightly in hopes that they would graze one another, but Frankie slipped away just as quickly as he came. 

The brief contact still caused something in Santiago's chest to buzz, like the quickest flash of static electricity. He tried to meet Frankie's eyes as he set about grabbing drinks for everyone, but his brow was obscured under the brim of his hat.

His body language was the same as in the diner a few days ago. He may have been physically present with them in the backyard, but mentally he was so clearly elsewhere. 

Santiago only swallowed and nodded to himself. With the help of a nearby lighter sitting on the table, he popped open his beer with ease. He tried not to mull over any hidden meaning in that fleeting touch as he took his first swig. 

The afternoon sun warmed the air around them. For the next few hours, Sam chose to stay close, quietly hanging off to the side and listening as the adults talked. Conversation was principally dominated by the Miller brothers. Benny had a fight in Vegas coming up. Will wanted to organize a boys hike in a couple of weeks.

Samuel sat between Frankie and Santiago, happily eating whatever was offered to him. Ever since their last telephone call to his mother, Sam seemed to be eating and sleeping much better. Santiago was relieved to see for the last few evenings that there was hardly any food left on his plate. Late at night when he would finally to bed, there was hardly any noise at all coming from Sam's bedroom across the hall. 

As the sun gradually began to set, Sam finally ventured off the deck to play in the yard with Will's dog. He happily chased after the black Lab, chucking his grimy tennis ball up in the air for him to catch. 

Happy that the kid was occupied and knowing that they would be staying a while longer, Santiago allowed himself to settle back with a second beer. The sun was beginning to fall already, and Will was starting to gather the supplies to light a fire.

Frankie sat next to him on a folding chair. He hardly spoke the entire afternoon, opting to drink water instead of beer. His shiny black eyes made a point to avoid Santiago as much as possible. He sat with his arms folded, intensely watching Will's very involved technique for placing logs in the metal base of the firepit. 

Impatient, Benny reached over to nudge his brother with his foot.

"You playing Lincoln Logs there or what?”  

"I’m trying to get the most use out of this wood.” Will retorted as he worked at securing the logs in place. “How many of my fires have kept your asses from freezing out in the field?"

“Hundreds.” Santiago agreed. 

“Well now we're freezing our asses off in the middle of civilization. Hurry up, will ya?” Benny replied while tugging a hooded sweatshirt over his head.  “The temperature's dropped like 20 degrees.” 

The crackling flames soon danced in the firepit, casting a warm glow.

Their collective attention was redirected when Bo came trotting back up onto the deck, sans tennis ball and without Samuel.

Sanitaog scanned the backyard, struggling to locate the boy until he noticed a small dark figure high up in the big oak tree near the back fence.

Thanks to the lights Will had installed on the back of his house, Santiago could see Sam dangling from a thick outstretched limb of the magnolia tree. In one fluid try, he managed to bring his legs upward, wrapping himself entirely around the branch. His skinny arms weren’t covered with much muscle at all, but what little he possessed seemed to be well toned. He was completely at ease while he worked his way comfortably atop the thick branch, settling himself into a sitting position.

“Looks like you’ve got yourself a country boy, Pope.” Benny laughed as he looked over his shoulder, one brow raised in amusement.

“That’s definitely a kid that spends time outside.” Will hummed before taking a sip from his beer. 

Santiago had to admit that Sam was surprisingly strong for his size. He doubted at age seven that he possessed the necessary core or upper body strength to pull off those maneuvers.

Still, that nagging instinct to keep the boy out of danger remained ever present at the back of his mind. Slowly, he cupped one hand around his mouth.

“Sam, buddy, that’s high enough!” He cautioned across the yard.

“I’m fine!” A small voice eventually called back. 

A soft sigh of frustration escaped Santiago when it was clear that his warning went ignored. He set his untouched bottle of beer down beside him.

“I better go make sure he doesn’t fall and break something.” 

Before he could even move, Frankie’s hand gripped his shoulder, gently nudging him back down onto his chair. “Stay. I’ll go keep an eye on him.”

They all watched Frankie's broad back traipse across the lawn, his hands in his pockets as he approached the oak tree. 

“Does he seem off to anybody else?”

The three of them didn’t look at each other. Santiago let his question hang in the air, spoken softly enough so it couldn’t be heard on the opposite side of the backyard. 

Frankie stood at the base of the tree, head tilted back while he mindfully watched Samuel climb. His words weren't entirely clear, but they could hear him speaking in Spanish. His hand moved to point to something once in a while, gesticulating while he gave some sort of direction or encouragement.

“He does.” Will quietly agreed as he lowered himself onto one of the open Adirondack chairs. “I thought maybe things weren't going great at the diner.”

Santiago knew that if things were going poorly at the diner, Frankie would just be stomping around and slamming cabinets while cursing up a storm. This went beyond the dishwasher breaking down and line cooks calling out. The empty look in his eyes for the past few days suggested something much deeper. Even more so, Santiago knew that Will was more astute than that. He had to have the same alarm bells ringing in his head. 

“No. You and I can both see that it's something more.”

Will stoked the fire some before settling back into his seat. He looked Santiago in the eyes, his face still remaining neutral. 

“Look, we only found out today.”

Santiago's brow knit together as he stared at the two brothers. His attention zeroed in on Benny, catching the moment he began looking uncomfortably down at the beer bottle in his hands. Will may have been known for putting on a stony mask, but his younger brother was never quite able to hide his emotions in the same way. 

“What do you know, Ben?” 

Benny's lips pressed together into a tight line, but he never lifted his gaze. It wasn't his information to share and he fucking hated being the messenger, but he knew that when it came to Frankie, Santiago could not be talked into backing down.

“Elena is trying for full custody.”

The silence that followed the admission was heavy, and it only set Santiago further on edge as he struggled to process the information. His mind raced to try and find some kind of meaning. 

Elena had ample reason to be pissed at Frankie, but their daughter had stood as a no-conflict zone between them. They always co-parented well, despite their differences. And even though she hated Santiago's guts, he didn't know her to be a cruel or vindictive person. Something had to have happened. 

“She's gotta be doing this to try and get his attention. Have either of you spoken to her?”

Benny cleared his throat, his eyes still trained down towards the mouth of his beer bottle.

“It's still so fresh, man. He’s only known since Monday.”

Will shook his head before pointing a warning finger at Santiago. “This isn't our fight, Pope. And frankly, of all people, you definitely need to keep your nose out of it.”

Only a year earlier, that sort of comment would have sparked rage deep within Santi. Maybe it was because it was coming from Will, and maybe the 2nd beer had him feeling more relaxed, but he simply nodded.

“Yeah, I'm aware.” He bore a bitter half-smile as he held up a placating hand. “But this isn't fucking right and we all know it.”

Santiago took a sip of his beer, only turning his head so he could verify that Samuel hadn't gone any higher in Will's tree. 

Frankie must have succeeded in convincing him to climb down, because he was now hanging upside down by his knees from the lowest branch. 

Seemingly eager for a subject change, Benny nodded to the scene taking place on the other side of the backyard. 

"What's the story with this kid?"

Santiago shrugged. "Hard to say. His mom's got issues, but she won't talk to anyone. We just know that they were evicted and about to sleep out on the street. It looks like she's running from something. Maybe an ex. Maybe she owes someone money."

Will leaned onto the armrest of his deck chair. "Does she have a record?" 

He let the question drift out between them casually. Due to their line of work, they both had access to certain connections and the privileges that went along with them. It was a practice that wasn't discouraged or encouraged, but they both knew that Santiago could have easily obtained her file if Sonia had one with the police. 

"Nope. All clear." 

"What about the kid?"

Santiago slowly blinked, his dark eyes incredulous. 

"Does he have a police record at age seven?" 

A smile appeared across Will's face as he looked out across his back lawn. He could so clearly hear the indignation in his friend's voice as he disbelievingly rephrased the question, there was no need to look over to confirm that his eyes were probably narrow slits.

"I meant have you tried asking him for more information, Pope." 

An empty laugh pushed its way from Santiago's chest. 

"I've tried, but I'm not exactly his favorite person." He sighed, his chair creaking as he leaned back into a long stretch. "We've fallen into this cops and robbers routine somehow. He goes non verbal the second I start asking any questions." 

Will's fingers scratched against the stubble growing under his chin, this time a twinge of genuine amusement flashed across his features as he tried to imagine the scene. 

"It's only been a few days, right? Don't they usually settle in after a while?" 

"Yeah, yeah..." Santi hummed as he began peeling off the foil wrapper around the mouth of his beer bottle, clearly unconvinced. "Most of them do." 

Benny leaned forward to chuck another log onto Will’s fire, his face contemplative while he looked for the right spot.

“If something’s really wrong, he’ll eventually talk.” He spoke while a few stray fireflies took off into the air.

Santiago didn't ask for clarification, but he couldn't keep from mulling over how Benny's advice applied to both individuals on the other side of the backyard. 

___________________________________

Saturday, October 12th, 2021. 10:15 PM

They left Will's house around 10 PM.

After saying their goodbyes to the Miller brothers, Santiago and Frankie stood between their trucks parked on the edge of the front lawn. Sam was already climbing up into the backseat of Santi's truck while the two men said goodbye to one another. Santiago purposefully lingered in the embrace they shared. His arms held the man against his chest, stopping him from being able to pull away too quickly. It was indulgent, surely, but he needed to feel that contact, for however brief it ultimately would be. The conversation he held with Will and Benny just a few hours earlier still rang fresh in his mind. To say that he was concerned for Frankie didn't come close enough to the worry he was now feeling. Santiago knew that if what Elena was attempting to do was for real, his own heart would break at having to watch such a callous thing be inflicted on the man he loved. 

He ghosted his mouth against his warm skin, first finding the shell of his ear, then the plush flesh of his cheek. It was risky behavior, because they’ve always made a point to be lowkey when out in public, but he was reassured when Frankie thankfully didn't tense up. 

“Tomemos un café está semana?” (Let's go for a coffee this week?)

Santiago whispered the proposition warmly to him when he pulled back and their eyes met for what felt like the first time all damn night. He was sure to subdue the smile he wore, knowing in the back of his mind that Frankie could suspect something if he played this too strong.

Maybe the two beers he drank that afternoon made him less observant, but if Frankie suspected anything, he didn't let it show. His large hands only lingered on Santiago's waist. He gave an easy nod to the question before his dark eyes flicked downward, seemingly to fixate on his throat.  

“Claro, cuando tú quieras.” (Sure, whenever you want.)

It was impossible not to think about the fact that "going for a coffee" used to be their old excuse to sneak off and see each other - when they were both in the army and even when Frankie and Elena were still together. Sometimes it would be just that, a simple coffee and a long talk, but more often than not it was more. 

This time, Santi really only wanted to talk to him. Frankie was so damn good at hiding whatever he had going on inside. Being able to speak one on one - that meant without the boys, without the diner chaos around, without one of the foster cases in tow - would probably be the only way he was going to be able to get anything out of him.

The drive back to his house was short. Just after he ushered Samuel inside and sent him back to brush his teeth and change in to pajamas, his phone began to ring in his pocket. 

With the boy heading off down the hallway, he pulled the device out and made his way into the kitchen. A frown took over his features as he caught Dana's name across the screen.  

Even though he could hear the water running in the hallway bathroom, he kept his voice hushed as he answered.

"Hey, what's up?" 

"Sonia didn't return back to the shelter after curfew last night. Her phone has been going straight to voicemail all day." 

His footsteps froze in the middle of the tiled kitchen floor. Dana sounded angry as she began to rapidly recount what few details she possessed. 

"Even if she did come back, I doubt I can convince the shelter at this point to keep her spot. Not to mention she's also-" 

"No, no, hang on." Santi abruptly cut her off. His mind was racing with the slew of information she just fired at him. He already knew what she was suggesting and he didn't want to hear her voice it out loud. "How many hours has she been gone now? Let's not jump ahead before we know what we're dealing with." 

"Her phone has been turned off all day, Santiago." Dana repeated. "You know what this looks like. I know what this looks like." 

He let out a slow exhale as he tugged off his baseball cap. The faint hum of the fluorescent light over the sink registered in his ears. He tossed his hat onto the counter before his fingers threaded deep into his tangled curls. He began to gingerly pace over the kitchen, making the same brief circuit around his island as he listened to Dana list their options. 

"Listen, it's your call." Santiago cut in once she finished. "But maybe we should just ride out the weekend and give Sonia a chance to come back and explain-"

Just as he rounded the island for the umpteenth time, he caught sight of a small figure standing in the kitchen entryway. It immediately brought his words and movement to a direct stop. 

Samuel's face was unreadable. He stood stock still as he stared at Santiago, the black darkness of the living room just behind him. 

No one moved. No one spoke. 

Fuck.

___________________________________

@velocibee @thirstworldproblemss, @ohsomightypeaches, @ellenmunn , @hopeamarsu, @astroboots, @kesskirata , @itspdameronthings , @acdeaky @waywaychuck , @unbelievable-dear , @niki-fromthevoid @songsformonkeys , @duckydanny @rebel-fanfare

#triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction #santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia fic #santiago fic #santiago x frankie #Triple Frontier #Frankie Morales #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales #francisco catfish morales #santiago imagine #frankie imagine

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Omg I recently found your Miguel and Joel fics and your writing is so good!! I have to ask, as an aspiring fic writer, do you have any tips on how to write/improve fanfic or find your writing own style? I have so many docs files worth of half-finished fics (since I suffer from not-good-enough syndrome), and I try to learn as much as can from those I admire. If this ends up being answered, thank you so much!!

hey! thank you for the ask and it's taken me a while to answer cuz I had to think long and hard to give you something useful lmfao... and it means a lot that people enjoy my writing enough to even ask me for advice!! thank you anon, and I hope this helps :D

a/n: I'm not an expert, not even a little bit, but I like writing on here and I'm writing a book! so those are my (lack of) credentials - just a heads up

gonna split my advice into parts: before writing, during, and after; and also give some tips on writer's block / "not-good-enough-syndrome" (very very valid, btw)



Before writing

- Planning is not always necessary but I find it helps! it doesn't even have to be a really detailed one, like mapping out every story beat - but writing rough notes can help you guide it along better. And if you're not actively planning, thinking about the fic in more detail can act as a plan.

- Unironically, all my fics start off as vivid daydreams, which I then jot down notes, and start writing. If you think of your plan as guidelines rather than something rigid, it can help with flow. I.e. if when you start writing you're finding it hard to hit a certain beat, there's no need to force it in that direction.

- It can help to emulate the writing styles of writer's you like - like an artist study but with fics/literature you like. Take a couple of fics you really really like and jot down what you enjoy about it, and specificity is key. What about their language do you enjoy? Is it their use of metaphors, is it the way they describe actions, or the little character details they include? It can help to have this list on hand when you actually start writing.

- Similarly, you can try little writing exercises to get you thinking about that kind of thing. It think I saw this in a youtube vid, but a thing I've done in the past is take a scene from a movie or book and try to emulate in one of two ways, or both: first, as best you can remember, as close to the style of the original work as possible. And second, in your own words, trying to hit certain plot beats as best you can, leaving the rest up to you. For example, I always did it with the opening of the hunger game's first chapter, because it was something really distinctive to me and a property I enjoy. The important thing here is to not have the reference in front of you. The aim isn't to copy exactly, but to imitate / get your brain thinking about the way in which the author / filmmaker / etc portrays the story.



Whilst writing

There is a lot of very valid general writing advice in terms of language and actually writing, so I'll list some general ones below, (idk if this was quite your question tho):

- vary sentence length and structure. it adds rhythm and texture to your writing. but also be wary and try to align it to the context: i.e. a more fast-paced action scene would benefit from short, staccato sentences, but a scene describing characters falling in love (hazy, romantic, etc) might be better with longer, multi-claused sentences to drag out pace.

- focus less on stuffing in adjectives (i am very guilty of this, icl) but rely on the specificity of your nouns to portray information I.e. instead of 'spindly, thin and wire-framed glasses' using 'spectacles' is both more efficient and sounds a bit nicer.

- depends on the writer, but try to work backwards from images and motifs for characters, places, etc rather than the other way round. I.e. if your character is as fierce as a lion, instead of stating that as a simple simile, imply the metaphor with description: "her flowing mane (note specificity of noun, mane, not hair) cascades around her maw - spit-slick and eyes wild. Carnal, she was a killer; and God help those caught between her claws." (<< this is corny asf, lmfao, my bad. but u get the gist), and then you can pepper your text with callbacks to the motif - like little easter eggs for your reader.

- similar to above, adverbs often break up the flow of text, so choose the verbs carefully. Instead of "Hurriedly, he ran" even more info can be given with "tumbled" or "stuttered" etc etc

- break up dialogue with action rather than the usual alternatives for "said" .

- also also, "said" and other simple words are not bad to use at all!! sometimes they work better in the text than every dialogue word being "whispered" or "crooned" or whatever. you can repeat words without reaching for a thesaurus every time, cuz often its alternatives are more jarring and noticeable to read.

- honestly, above all the 'feel' of the text trumps everything else, or at least it does for me. There is no point using a super complex metaphor if it comes out of nowhere, or breaks up the tension of a scene. These aren't hard rules, and if it serves your story more to 'break' them, then you absolutely should! Definitely read aloud where you can (ik it's a little embarassing with fics, sometimes). In terms of my specific style, I'm a big fan of poetry so i like to pay careful attention to the way words and sentences sound! I love using fricatives or plosives or words that sound the way they feel (if that makes any sense), sentences that have rhythm due to placement of commas and semicolons - I think it makes for a more enjoyable read.

- don't be afraid to jump around when writing. Often, the issue is with starting out, so chop and change where necessary and jump around the fic. If there's a specific scene you're really excited about writing, write that first! and then once you're in more of a flow, the rest should be a bit easier.

- I can't really help with grammar cuz I know my grammar fucking sucks; there's probably an editor out there that has a heart attack everytime I overuse a semi-colon lmfao.



After writing

- For me, editing is the most important part of writing. Due to the way I write it's where a fic can really be elevated or fucked. A lot of the stuff I write initially is gibberish, and then is improved massively in the first edit.

- so with that, don't be afraid to shift things around: sentences, words, whole passages if need be. If you're writing in a word processor, take advantage of it's features. if it helps, make a copy of your fic and really 'fuck' it up: move shit around, get rid of wonky words, etc. be ruthless lmfao - cuz it's only the copy. if you tend to over describe (like me), I promise you that backspace button is your best friend.

- depends on how long it is, but take it in chunks (this is with both editing and writing) focus on the chunks and then expand out into the whole.

- it's important to be reflective. if you get through the process, or hit a slump and you're unsatisfied; be specific about why. where exactly did it stop working for you? is it the way you've described a scene? does it feel slow? too fast? do your characters feel flat? no stakes? be specific, and if you can, highlight where it went wrong. the comment feature on docs is my favourite to use because of this reason

- also, please remember to give yourself your flowers! where it works, no matter how small, make sure to highlight it and say, "I really like this bit, because of xyz". the 'because' is important, as it helps you do this again in later fics.



writer's block / not-good-enough-syndrome

- first off, remember that 9 times out of ten, you are your own worst critic. I guarantee that the things you don't like about your writing, someone will read and very much enjoy it! humans aren't great at being objective, so give yourself some grace and leeway to learn and improve.

- second, best way to overcome this is exposure therapy, imo. Tumblr is a great place for this: you can make a side blog and dump all the fics you think are a bit shit on there. It may gain some traction, it may not; but the most important part is that you've put yourself out there, and nothing exploded. and because there are no stakes, you can get rid of the blog as you see fit, with little to no consequences, and never have to think about it again.

- if you do end up posting, please don't get bogged down by the metrics! it can suck when something you've worked really hard on doesn't do very well. the great thing about fanfic, is that it's a really easy way to improve quickly. if you like something enough to want to write fanfic - you're more likely to write. More writing = more improvement, and you get to enjoy fucking around with the canon or a self insert or writing smut or whatever.



in terms of overcoming writer's block / having lots of half finished fics you can approach it a couple of ways:

- you can brute force finish a fic, no matter how shitty you think it is, and try to salvage what you can in the edit.

- lower the stakes! if you can't write a thousand words, leave it at 500! often when you move the goalposts closer, there's less of a mental block, and you end up bringing it to it's natural conclusion anyway.

- if you've got multiple unfinished fics, frankenstein that bitch lmfao. cut and paste and stick the best bits together. You like that one interaction? cool, stick it onto a bit from another fic. You've come up with a great piece of dialogue? great, stick it in the middle of that fic. Because you're not necessarily coming up with new content, just repurposing old bits and bobs, often you find you're writing the inbetween-y bits anyways and you've got a full fic.

- take a break! leave stuff unfinished, sleep on it; come back in a day, a week, a month. fresh eyes can make all the difference when you've been staring at it too long.



finding your writing style:

- read, read, read, read. other fics, books, even consuming media generally to find a voice. You can be reflective and specific, like I mentioned in the other points to help yourself along, but expanding your horizons will do wonders for your writing.

- e.g. my favourite book is Lolita and I'm in loooove with the writing style: it's a beautiful balance of poetic with a strong narrative voice. I love poetry (Ocean Vuong you will always be famous!), and gorgeous, existential films filled to the brim with subtext (Blade Runner 2049, Howl's moving castle, Moonlight, etc). You probably can't notice that explicitly in my writing but it does show up: I love wistful rambling, heavy imagery, strong thematic motifs... all things I've connected with in other media, and emulated in my writing.

Your "voice" comes later, I think - something that happens without you actively looking for it. Who you are, your experiences, your connections with other people: it's pretty hard to keep that out of your writing. So don't stress! The page is like a block of wood; it scratches, it dents, it erodes - chips away into something new, entirely. Your writing remembers, and it doesn't stop being yours when you walk away from it.

Hope this wasn't pretentious or annoying or anything! best of luck anon and feel free to dm me cuz I'd love to read whatever you come up with (no pressure, ofc).

If anyone has any other writing tips I will do my best to reblog them, thanks <33

#x reader #writing #writing advice #fic writing #miguel o'hara x reader #joel miller x reader #fandom things #x reader fics #fanfic

[timeskip]

Trucy Klavier parallels makes me go a little insane because they're both showy people who put on a character!! This is so important to who they are! They both want to be so collected and on top of everything, but not TOO obviously. This is why Klavier likes doing air guitar in court or why Trucy is so quick to play dumb! They're similar!

They're both showmen, first and foremost, albeit in completely different ways--and this is a trait they share with PHOENIX, who is... also kind of putting on this mask. But he's not literally stepping onstage the way Trucy or Klavier do, he stays in the shadows, and Trucy is happy to help him or Apollo in that way when it benefits them (see: the bloody ace, her using perceive during poker games, the fake kidnapping, etc) but mainly she and Klavier do these things super openly, because that works for them to keep up this persona!!

What I think is interesting about these parallels is that Klavier is so open comparatively to Trucy's way of doing things, with him wanting to find the truth without tricks or gimmicks like the trilogy prosecutors used. And we meet him soon after the bloody ace, and Apollo is already suspicious of Phoenix and Trucy. Yes, Apollo's going along with their (obvious) schemes, but he knows to be wary of them. And he's also similarly wary of Klavier, because Klavier is Kristoph's brother. They just look so similar, even if they act completely opposite. Klavier is placed, to some degree, on the same level as Phoenix and Trucy: someone with more secrets that he's not showing, and a desire for the truth that may very well come at a cost the same way Phoenix and Trucy's does. (And it did come at a cost, a burden which Phoenix has to carry)

...And all while Klavier and Trucy get along well! All while Klavier and Trucy are both playing these roles and making themselves known, not just as prosecutor and defense assistant, but as a rockstar and a magician!!!

They also got these roles in completely different ways; Trucy through her family, taking on the magician's role, and at the end of the game the Gramarye secrets too, while Klavier got his rockstar role through skyrocketing to fame on accident iirc. However, I'd argue that the parallel here is through Klavier's law career. We don't see how he came to become a prosecutor, but given Kristoph being so much older than him and the general way Ace Attorney families work, I find it hard to believe Klavier's family (even if that's just Kristoph) didn't have something to do with his career choice. Obviously he takes a different path from his brother, but he wants to rely on Kristoph, he wants to face him in court! Just like Trucy wants to be a magician, despite Troupe Gramarye being the way it is. Even if Klavier doesn't forge evidence like Kristoph does, his role comes from him, and even though Trucy doesn't hold magic above others in order to force them to do what she wants, she still comes from a family that did that.

Troupe Gramarye and Phoenix are also how both of them got to the place they are today, of course. I don't even think I have to go into how both of them were changed by the Zak Gramarye trial because it's right there! In the game! But I will say that it really brings forward all the ways the different characters interact with the truth, even if it's inconvenient. Klavier especially, with how he exposed Phoenix, and with how he didn't WANT to expose Phoenix. Flash-forward to 7 years later, and Klavier and Trucy both have familiar, family reasons to want things to end in the final trial :')

(In a way, you could argue their connection is just like that; accidental, and through Phoenix. But both of them are putting on these acts, acting fun and silly to the crowd while also being extremely competent people who seek the truth. They are adored where Phoenix is not, and they will use that adoration to bring Phoenix back.)

But their families are also just... completely ruined by these trials. Trucy is left without any family, and of course Phoenix takes her in and she pretends she's okay, but she's NOT okay. Not completely. And 7 years later, Kristoph gets arrested for murder a second time, rightfully so. And Klavier, the same as Trucy, tries to show that he will be okay--but will he? I know a lot of fandom speculation goes into this, and I think there's a lot of ways to interpret Klavier's feelings, but I think the answer, when you look at his parallels to Trucy, is not completely. They will both present themselves as if they're fine, but things will be harder when they let the showmanship go around the people they trust

Both of them are just SO complex and interesting and they're so silly but so deep and THAT is why their parallels kill me so much. Trucy is good at hiding her grief and pain behind a silly mask (JUST like Klavier) doesn't mean she's always coping well, and Phoenix knows that just as well too!! That's why their parallels are important!!! It's about how they hide their emotions and how they've been affected by the events of everything, and how they've helped change things by whatever means they can!!!

#ace attorney #trucy wright #klavier gavin #aa4 spoilers #aa4 #long post #I DID NOT INTEND FOR THIS TO BE SO LONG. MANY THOUGHTS HEAD FULL

[phyllisthefirst]

[Masterlist] [on ao3]

George Luz x OC

I've finally managed to continue the story of George and Phyllis!

Warnings: Mention of injury, mention of concentration camps (not graphic).

Tagging: @next-autopsy

As always, this fic is entirely about the fictionalized representations of the men of Easy Company that we see on the show. I mean no disrespect to the real men by writing this.

No tired sigh, no rolling eye, no irony - Part 9

They finally get out of the forest after taking Foy, and while George is still a little wary of Lieutenant Speirs, he'll never stop being thankful to him for getting them through that day. 

They capture a handful of other small towns through Belgium and France, the geography somewhat nebulous to George despite Captain Nixon’s thorough briefings. It doesn't matter, really - one gray, ravaged town is like the other to their weary eyes, and the only thing breaking up the monotony are Phyllis’ letters. 

They're still the same as before, carefully crafted reports that let him take part in her days without giving away any information that might be dangerous should it fall into the wrong hands. Since that only leaves so much to report, she adds other things, amusing little tidbits of her family life, things she's learned from her father or experiences at the office. She sneaks in stories about her colleagues at battalion HQ as well, carefully disguised as office clerks and sales agents. Her stories confirm what he's already learned about her back at Aldbourne: That despite her occasional sense of alienation, she loves working with other people, loves the sense of accomplishment that comes with her work. Sink seems to entrust more and more important work to her, which makes George as proud as any medal pinned to his own chest. 

Phyllis never addresses the afternoon he visited her in Bastogne and broke down, but he does, once, by repeating the thank you he uttered before he left. He hopes she really understands what her silent, unjudging support did for him that day. 

The only thing that is a little alarming about the letters is their mode of delivery: more often than not, they get passed to him from Captain Nixon, which is fine as long as he can chalk it up to coincidence but turns worrisome when George starts to suspect a pattern. But he doesn't dare say anything, so he keeps quietly fretting until Nixon himself addresses it.

“You don't need to look so scared, Luz. I won't go blabbing about your correspondence, and I'm happy to deliver it. Miss Baker is a sensible young woman, and God knows you could use some sense.”

“But why…”

“Why am I doing this? Because we all need something to get us through, and this at least is better than drowning your sorrows.”

The "I should know" hangs at the end of the sentence, unspoken. George doesn't pry further, only nods and takes the letter. 

“Thank you, Sir.”

As the days get brighter and they move into Germany, George relies on the letters a little less just to make it through the days, and can simply enjoy them for what they represent: Little pieces of Phyllis, as close as he can get to her with their duties keeping them apart even though they’re maddeningly close - oftentimes, she arrives at an area mere hours after they've secured it. But by the time Easy Company settles in for their well-earned rest, Phyllis' work of keeping an entire battalion fed and housed and supplied only begins, and so their days rarely overlap. George is tempted to ask Captain Nixon for help arranging some way for them to meet, but the Captain seems increasingly distracted with troubles of his own and George doesn't dare ask for more help than he's already giving. 

So they continue traveling the same path at different speeds, never quite meeting except for the occasional glimpse in the distance - until Landsberg. 

George is still in shock days after they've found the camp and moved on, still trying to wrap his mind around the question of how human beings can treat other human beings this way, when Phyllis' note reaches him. 

It starts out the usual way, summing up a current challenge in carefully obfuscated words, and it takes him a moment to understand just what challenge she's alluding to: The task of unexpectedly having to acquire food and medical aid for hundreds of sick and starving prisoners. Apparently, she was held up with that task for a little longer, staying behind an extra day to help the supply officers taking over after the 506th moved on, and has only now caught up with them enough to send a note. She must have been dead on her feet when she wrote it, and if George had any doubts about her state of mind, they're wiped out when he gets to the end of the letter - an end that comes rather abruptly, interrupting the usual order of her letters after just a few sentences, a crossed-out line and a smudged blot of ink, to conclude:

“I wish I had a longer letter for you, George, like I always do. But I simply do not have the words.

I'm sorry. 

I hope you are well.

Phyllis”

This time, he doesn't even try and go through Captain Nixon - he walks right up to Captain Speirs and asks to be excused for an urgent trip to battalion HQ. He doesn't have a made-up message or task ready, no explanation for his unusual request. If Captain Speirs asks for one, all he has to offer is that a friend needs him. But Speirs takes one look at him and doesn't ask, only gives him an order to deliver some reports while he's at it, and George's loyalty to his CO, strange as the man might be sometimes, reaches new heights. 

He finds Phyllis at HQ, as expected, which he gains entry to with his excuse of a pack of reports from Easy's CO. When he opens the door to her makeshift office, a backroom in what looks to have been a bank or office at some point, it takes him one look at her, face pale, eyes lined with grey smudges, and he's closed the door behind him and crossed the small room. 

She doesn't even have time after looking up and recognising him to ask what he's doing here before he's pulled her to him in a crushing hug. 

There's nothing to say - just like her, George has no words to express what they witnessed. The only thing he can offer is his presence, the knowledge that he's struggling with the same things. He doesn't have any answers, but he's here . 

That's got to count for something, right? 

Apparently it does, because she pulls him closer without a word, her arms threading a little awkwardly between his belt, musette bag and rifle, and doesn't let go for a long time. Her head is buried against his chest, bent to hide her face, and it's only when he feels her start to shake that he realizes she's crying. 

It occurs to him that this is only the second time they’ve actually seen each other in the past months, and each time under more and more dire circumstances. He wonders if they’ll ever meet again for anything other than crying together, then immediately feels guilty about wishing for something so selfish after all the suffering he’s witnessed lately. 

Still, he leans his head against the top of hers, breathing in the scent of her hair as if it’s the finest perfume, not just army issue soap with something uniquely her underneath it. Perhaps this visit wasn’t just for her sake, he quietly admits when he gathers her closer.    

He doesn’t know how long they stand there like this, but it’s not long enough before the door opens abruptly - too quickly for them to jump far enough apart. 

And as luck would have it, the person interrupting them so rudely is none other than Colonel Sink himself. 

He wordlessly hands Phyllis a stack of paperwork, intently studying both of them in turn. Just when George thinks he’s going to burst from the suspense of waiting for his next words, the Colonel addresses Phyllis: 

“Is this going to cause the kind of trouble we talked about?”

“No, Sir,” Phyllis replies, pulling herself up a little straighter to meet her superior's eyes, and to George's astonishment, it seems to work: Sink looks at her for a moment longer, before finally giving a slow nod. He gives George one more long, warning look that seems to say “I'm watching you”, then he retreats and closes the door behind him. 

Oddly, when George looks at Phyllis now, she's smiling, although only for a moment before her face pales - apparently, she's only now grasping what just happened. She hurriedly takes another step back, smoothing down her jacket and skirt and turning towards her desk to take out a small compact mirror. 

She squeaks at the sight of herself and starts frantically dabbing at her tearstreaked face with her sleeve. 

“Oh God, what did I do?”

“Relax, Phyllis. He didn't catch us doing anything wrong. If he was going to reprimand you, he would have done it already.”

She doesn't seem to hear him, still fussing with her appearance, until he gently closes his hand around her wrist and pulls the mirror down and out of her sight. 

“It's okay, sweetheart. You're allowed to need a moment sometimes. He understands..”

“Are you sure?”

He nods, heart nearly breaking at her unusually timid tone. 

“I'm sure. But I'll let you get back to work if you feel like you have to.”

She nods distractedly, gaze going back to her full desk. 

“That might be best, I think.” 

He knows she's about to dive back into whatever was occupying her thoughts before he got here, but he can't quite let her go like this. So, before he can overthink it, he leans close and presses a soft kiss to her temple. 

“Take care of yourself, alright?”

She seems too stunned to do anything but nod, which he fervently hopes is a good sign. Then, before she can decide otherwise, he steps away and walks to the door. 

He's almost out when she speaks up once more. 

“George?” 

He turns to look at her. 

“What did you actually come here for? Was there something you needed for Easy?”

He shakes his head. 

“I just came here for you.”

Then he slips out and makes his way back to Easy, feeling if not fully alright then at least a little lighter. 

***

Austria is a balm on their battered bodies and souls, after everything they went through these last few months. For once, they’re all stationed together for a longer amount of time, and Phyllis runs into George more often around Zell am See, even if she’s usually in too much of a hurry to stop and chat, or he in turn is on his way to some kind of exercise or other. Training has started again now that it looks like the 101st will be going to Japan, and the prospect hangs over the men’s heads and makes them tense. It doesn’t help that accidents continue to happen, men still get injured, and Phyllis can only imagine how much it weighs on George. 

Still, she has a feeling he’s slowly doing better, much better than he did in Bastogne anyway, or after Landsberg. He still has his moments of uncharacteristic silence, but he looks a far cry from the way he did the last time they met alone, and the hardness that sneaks onto his face sometimes does so less and less often. More often than not, when Phyllis runs into him he’s smiling, asking her if she has time to accompany him for a walk around the lake or to an impromptu dance with a few village girls. 

She rarely does, because it turns out supplying an occupying force is just as much work as a moving army, at least initially. Phyllis is billeted in a small room at the hotel with the officers, so the way from her room to Colonel Sink’s front office is as short as can be, which makes it all the easier to simply work long into the night and then fall right into bed. 

Still, George finds ways for them to meet. He’s somehow found out when Sink and some of the other higher-ups have lunch and dinner and so whenever he doesn’t have guard duty or training scheduled, George swings by the  office the moment it empties. Usually, he brings something to eat, which Phyllis is grateful for. 

“I don’t understand why they still have you working this hard. None of the rest of us are,” George mumbles around his everpresent cigarette, perched on the edge of the desk and watching as she unwraps the sandwich he brought her. She tried setting it aside and finishing up just one more list before eating, but George simply snatched away the paper and put the sandwich in front of her. 

“You all did plenty of work those past months. You’ve earned your rest.” 

“And so have you! At least come out for a walk this evening. Have you even seen anything except for this office?” 

She starts her reply only to get interrupted again. 

“And supply depots and such don’t count!” 

“I’ve seen a little bit of town. And of course I’ve been down to the lake promenade.”

“Ah, then you’ve been missing out! There are much prettier spots on the lake than that crowded promenade, nice quiet ones. We could go swimming.” 

“I don’t have a swimming costume,” she points out, to which George harrumphs irritatedly. 

“Honestly, logistics wizard and can’t even get her hands on a bathing suit! This is a tourist town, you’re telling me there’s not a single boutique here?” He shakes his head, then brightens up as something occurs to him. “If I can get you a bathing suit, will you come out to the lake with me?” 

This seems like a fairly safe bet, so she agrees before hurriedly ushering George out of the office - her clock says the brass could be back from their lunch any moment now, and she’s been very careful about not being caught alone with George again, after Thalem. 

But if she thought setting him an impossible task would deter George from trying to get her to go out swimming, Phyllis was wrong. 

One week later, George bursts into her office again, waving a fancy-looking paper bag. 

“I did it! Found you a bathing suit. Now you have to come to the lake with us!” 

She freezes, pen lifted in the air over her most recent batch of paperwork, trying to wrap her mind around the fact that he actually got her a bathing suit. Before she can come to a conclusion as to how on earth he did that, the next puzzle in his words distracts her. 

“Us?” 

George smiles, that broad, contagious smile of his, turns towards the door and opens it, half-turning to point at it with the air of a circus announcer as four people come bursting through. 

“Phyllis!”, squeaks Bernice, first into the room, and then she’s enveloped in a gaggle of nurses - her old friends from Aldbourne, hale and happy and suddenly here. 

“I ran into them in town,” George explains when she meets his eyes over their heads, and Phyllis’ eyes irrationally fill with tears. George has been taking such good care of her, but for him to actually bring her friends back to her? What did she ever do to deserve a friend like him? 

“Thanks!”, she mouths at him over their heads, before turning her attention to the four women all storming at her with questions of how she’s been and what she’s been doing. 

By the time Colonel Sink returns from his lunch break, they’re only halfway through all of their questions. 

He takes one look at the crowded room and sighs. 

“I take it this is come kind of reunion?”

Bernice, never one to be intimidated, shoots him her best starlet-smile. 

“Yes, Sir. We haven’t seen each other since Aldbourne.” 

 “Then I’m sure you have a lot to catch up on. Take the afternoon off, Miss Baker.”

“Are you sure, Colonel? There’s still a lot of work here.”

“And it will still be here tomorrow. Get going.” 

Phyllis barely has time to squeak out a “Thank you, Sir!” before the tide of excited nurses has washed her outside, followed by an equally excited George. 

They take a brief detour to Phyllis’ quarters to grab a towel and change into the new bathing suit, which fits astonishingly well. The mystery of how on earth George managed this feat is lifted, however, when she expresses her surprise to Bernice, who just laughs. 

“Honey, that man may make a hobby out of staring at you but he doesn't have your measurements down just yet. Where do you think he met us? That shop was the only one for miles that still had stock, and he ran right into us.”

“So you helped him?”

“Don't tell anyone this, but I worked as a shop assistant before the war. I can take any girl’s measurements by eye just walking past her.”

That would sound like a boast if the suit didn't fit her so damn well. 

“Well, I'm glad you helped then.”

“That's all I did though. The idea was all George.” Her eyes, so far occupied with critically observing the fit of the suit, now travel to Phyllis’ hand. “I'm surprised though - has he not managed to rustle up a ring yet or are you just keeping it safe?”

Phyllis, stuck with her head in her blouse, doesn’t immediately understand what her friend is insinuating. 

“A ring ?” Then the penny drops and she gasps. “Bernie, there's no… we aren't… George and I are just friends.”

“Still ?” Now Bernie looks outright shocked, which isn't something Phyllis thought was possible. “Then why the hell is he running around buying you clothes?” 

Phyllis is saved from answering by a loud bang on the door. 

“Are you coming? Some of us want to get to the lake before sunset.” It’s Corinne, itching to get active. Phyllis laughs, half joy at having her friends back, half relief at not having to answer Bernie’s question. She quickly puts on the rest of her clothes and follows her friends outside. 

George leads them to a secluded place not far from the hotel, where a small pier leads from the lake’s shallow edge into the deeper water. It really is much quieter than the popular bathing spots in town, although that impression is offset by the group of Easy company men already splashing around in the water and greeting the group of nurses with boisterous enthusiasm. Determined to join the fun, they quickly lay out their towels on a sunny spot in the grass and make their way into the shockingly cold water. Phyllis squeaks when the first drops hit her as Corinne and Millicent splash by, and George laughs. 

“Cold, isn’t it? That’s 'cause it’s fed by springs high up in the mountains. But you get used to it, and then it’s real refreshing.” 

Taking his word for it, she soldiers on, determined not to let herself be stopped by the cold. Soon, she’s immersed chest-deep in the water, and taking her first few strokes feels heavenly. 

“Oh, I’ve missed this!”, she exclaims, much to George’s delight. “I used to go swimming with my parents, at the beach in the summer and at our local pool the rest of the time. I forgot how much I loved it.” 

George looks smug.

“So this was a good idea?”

“This was a swell idea. Thank you.” And because he looks so proud and happy and she really is thankful, she quickly leans over and presses a quick kiss to his cheek before diving under. She'll ruin her hair, probably, but the water is just too nice and her face too hot.

George doesn't pursue her, too distracted by the start of a splash fight nearby, and Phyllis keeps lazily swimming back and forth at a safe distance.

Some time later, George pops back up at her side, but by then she's just decided to venture out a little further - after being cooped up in an office for weeks, she relishes the exercise. 

“Still enjoying yourself?”, he asks. As always, George has a knack for letting her stay on the sidelines but also checking in on her from time to time. 

“Immensely. I was going to swim out a little further, it's so lovely here.”

“You want me to come with you?”, he asks. 

“I’ll be alright, unless you want to come.” She knows he doesn’t, still eyeing his surroundings for a good vantage point to launch a counter-attack on his opponents in naval warfare, but it’s okay. “I don’t mind doing a few laps alone.” 

He nods. “Be careful though, alright? Don’t swim out too far.” 

By the time Phyllis gets back from her long round, George and the others are still standing in the shallow water, splashing around and goofing off. She smiles at them as she wades out, and George smiles back briefly before a giant wave from Millicent hits him square in the face. 

Phyllis stifles a laugh and moves on to the spot on the sunny grass where they’ve laid out their towels, a few steps up an incline. From here, she has a perfect view of the lake and the shore, and she leans back on her arms to look out for a few moments while she dries off. It doesn’t take long for her eyes to drift from the majestic mountain panorama back to her friends in the shallows though, and one friend in particular. 

George looks absolutely wild as he keeps battling his friends in no discernible order, his hair stuck to his face on one side and standing up on the other. He’s laughing and cutting faces and looking for all the world like his old self, the jokester she met in Aldbourne. He isn’t that man anymore, she knows, but it’s nice to see how much of him is left. 

In between PT and guard duty and lounging by the lake, he’s acquired quite the tan, and he looks healthy and happy and beautiful. Phyllis watches him for a little while longer, feels her heart warm her on the inside like the sun is warming her skin, and wonders how it's possible to feel so much love for a person and not simply burst with it. 

Love… it's a big word, but it feels like the right one, and Phyllis decides, just for this one golden moment, to let it sit there undisturbed and not worry about how it might cause problems later on. Today, she'll enjoy the sun and the fact that her friends are here and that, after everything, there is so much left to love in this world. 

By the time the others get back out of the water, she's halfway to nodding off, but a few droplets of water alert her to the presence of another person next to her. She doesn't need to open her eyes to know who it is, and it briefly occurs to her to feel self-conscious about lying before him in just a bathing-suit, but she's too drowsy and content to let that old insecurity get to her.

Oddly, George remains silent for several long moments before he speaks up next to her.

“You know, this war may have been a shitshow, but I am thankful for one thing.” He pauses, and she makes a little humming sound to encourage him to keep talking. “I met you because of it, and for that I'll always be grateful.”

The warmth flares into a blaze inside her, and she really hopes he can't see how her cheeks are heating up, or if he does that he'll chalk it up to the beginnings of a sunburn. 

Still, she's made herself a promise, over a year ago on an airfield in England: Never to let George doubt how much he means to her. 

She reaches out, finds a water-cooled arm close by and squeezes it, using the sun's glare as an excuse not to open her eyes - she's too afraid of what she would or wouldn't find on his face if she did.

“I'm glad I met you too, George.”

#band of brothers #band of brothers fic #george luz #george luz x oc #george luz/oc #the adventures of george and phyllis

[thelyingjoke]

hello mx bow today i cannot stop thinking about the motive video watchparty _(:」∠)_ it started w/ me thinking about how sad it is that gonta *agreed* to help kokichi show everyone the motive videos, and then kokichi lost his trust because he chose to lie abt everyone hating bugs *on top* of that...sir please stop self destructing all your personal relationships bc of your paranoia it hurts my feelings :[

but then i couldn't stop thinking about the plan WORKING nd how that would change the entire trajectory of the story...obv ryoma and kirumi would get A Lot of attention from the group but (unsurprisingly) i can't stop thinkin abt how it would affect kokichi...being outed as a pacifist w/ a small organization that just does silly hijinks would crush most of the villain plan. and he was *willing* to do that!! i don't remember where i was going with this. wah. kokichi being more integrated into the group is spinning in my head at all times forever.

SOSOSOSOOOOOO REAL

the plan working would lead to so many changes……..i love kokichi working in the main group scenarios it gets my brain going. especially with this scenario because it’s not just his word they’re relying on, they have more evidence that they can actually trust him!!! think how the group dynamics would change!!!!!! they’d still think he was annoying (he is) but they’d actually know he wouldn’t mean any harm. he can’t play himself up as a villain anymore and he’s fine with that because now he knows this current plan (the nicer plan) is working! not to mention ryoma & kirumi would be able to get the support they need. it’s not likely kirumi would try to kill again any time soon because at this point she’d be too obvious and hopefully everyone would convince her out of it

something interesting as well, i think, would be how everyone sees maki. how would people react to learning her talent from her video while also knowing kokichi is someone they can trust? would they distrust her more than canon? would some people sympathize with her, given that her orphanage was likely in her video, or would everyone focus on the assassin part? it also of course depends on how much of the situation the video gives away, if her being an assassin is even mentioned to be because of her worry for her orphanage in it at all. people were already a little wary of her in canon, after deciding to believe in her during the trial and her talent being revealed by a guy not many of them are fond of, and it makes me wonder what would have changed in these circumstances

it’s also funny to me to think about how MAD tsumugi would be at this. what the hell! this little shit foiled her heartwrenching murder of the chapter!! she came up with such good motives too!!! she can’t even try to villainize him later. what the fuck you were supposed to be the antagonist who fits with the season’s themes asshole we gave you a whole rivalry with kaito and everything stop breaking the script. she can’t just let everything stop before the chapter 2 murder! she’s definitely going to try her darndest to get people to kill. and given the new information about him, it may be hard to try and get someone to kill kokichi as much as it would be convenient for her. someone would probably eventually kill though, it’s important for the ratings, but also can you imagine how crushing that’d be

kokichi went and had the PERFECT plan that was working! he even showed himself to be trustworthy!! he gave up his villain plan for this!!! and then someone went and killed anyway. dude. Why Did They Do That. IT WOULD BE SO PAINFUL !! ohand imagine . he’s gained the trust of the group but then his trust towards them starts to be broken even more from this. he already had trust issues before but now it seems like they’re being confirmed. his nice peaceful plan only prevented one murder just for another to happen??? did he throw away the mastermind plan for nothing? he still believed there was a mastermind, and it seems even more definite now that someone in their group is working against them. he just doesn’t know who. in his mind it even further confirms his idea that cooperation will be punished. oughhh……… this scenario is so full of opportunities for both kokichi fluff & angst i am consuming it so hard even though it’s only mere crumbs i made up in my head

SPEAKING OF TRUST ISSUESSSSSSSS i am so with you on the gonta bit. stop it dude DON’T TELL A NEEDLESS LIE THAT WILL ONLY ALIENATE YOUR CLOSEST ALLY IN THE END. YOU ARE KILLING ME. although i also wonder if maybe it has something to do with the way he grows increasingly frustrated at gonta over the course of those 3 strategy meeting pre-fte dialogues! in the first one, if you invite kokichi, he’s hesitant about it before he receives the OK from gonta, while if you invite gonta, he’s very polite about letting gonta hang out with shuichi and saying they can meet later. in the second one, inviting kokichi has him expressing hesitance since he’s with gonta again—however, when you invite gonta, he gets more aggressive and goes “i get it, i’m not wanted!” after gonta mentions he’d been falling asleep. by the third one, kokichi doesn’t hesitate to hang out at all, and just says he’s got a plan, and inviting gonta has him go “i don’t mind, take him off my hands”. to me it seems like he was trying to explain everything, but gonta found it hard to follow—hard-to-follow things make gonta fall asleep, and kokichi took that the same as gonta calling him boring, which he hates. if you invite gonta the second time it merely comes out earlier, and kokichi probably notices it later if you decide to invite him instead, which irritates him. he gets tired of trying to explain it and decides lying to him would be easier, which is the plan he figures out by that third event. maybe a combination of all that and his paranoia made him do that? idk i’m just kinda spitballing ideas here . i’m very not normal about motive video watchparty !

#ndrv3 #danganronpa #kokichi ouma #are the other characters relevant enough to tag….I’M UNSURE #asks #vespertin-y #analysis #(?) does it count #bow rambles

[aetheternity]

I got to finish playing through Fontaine today! Here are my thoughts cause a while ago ya'll loved hearing me speak on things. (Spoilers under the cut obviously)

~ Lyney and Lynette 🥺 I didn't expect to love them as much as I do 😭😭 (Freminet too though I liked him as soon as I saw him) though I do find it annoying how much slack the fandom has allowed those two to get seeing as they both lied to the Traveler and put them on the spot during an important trial. Traveler thought of them as good friends and decided to support the two of them out of the kindness of their hearts because Lyney helped them out previously only to find out they'd hidden a possible trail breaking secret if Furina hadn't mentioned it they probably still wouldn't have said anything the only reason they did was because they got cornered. If we're being real Traveler could've just walked away right after that confession but they not only stayed but made sure that Lyney and Lynette would not get charged for something they had nothing to do with. Traveler doesn't have to be friends with literally any of the people they encounter and that includes Lyney and Lynette. Just cause ya'll love them doesn't mean Traveler has to as well a sad backstory doesn't make up for betrayal and in regards to people who keep bringing up Traveler being buddy buddy with Childe. Childe has A, been in the story way longer, B, Traveler knows who Childe is and despite how close ya'll think they are Traveler is wary of him too. A couple updates ago he was making sure to warn Yomiya not to put all her trust in Childe let's stop acting like Traveler loves Childe and thinks he can do no wrong in comparison to Lyney and Lynette. Traveler just knows what Childe is capable of in comparison to Lyney and Lynette who they've known for what like two days.

~ Never has an NPC's death shaken me that hard before. In any game! I literally went 😦 when that cutscene played.

~ It was so amazing getting to find evidence and pick apart details of this case then have Neuvillette explain the whole situation out in full to the audience again. I especially enjoyed the drawings of each scene from different characters perspectives.

~ Furina is my girlfailure wife and she has been placed under Venti for second favorite archon. 💕💕 She's so bratty, cute and dramatic I wanna breed her 😩

~ I was not expecting to like Neuvillette and Navia as much as I do now! Especially Navia who I adore whole heartedly now that's a girlboss.

~ Every time she started crying I wanted to hold her.

Honestly this region was perfect for me. I love mysteries and I rarely ever found myself uninterested or bored with the story like I have with every other nation. I love Navia's character, her relationship with Traveler treating them like her partner and relying on them the way she did while also keeping them safe was so so cute and sweet and if I could draw I'd draw the Traveler I picked (Aether) with Navia as partners in detective work (Sorry Heizou you've been replaced..) I can't get enough of Furina and I can't wait for her first story quest, the leaks of her playstyle and more from her. I wanna see what kinds of things she says to her people outside of the courtroom/opera house. I wanna see her more vulnerable side shine out a bit more often. I wanna hear every voiceline she has more than once. I'm normal about her.. (I spent all night thinking about how gorgeous she is..) I want her. I hope Lynette gets a hangout soon she's so cute but I do think she needs more personality outside of her brothers.

Fontaine is also so so beautiful 😍 the underwater mechanic is surprisingly not as annoying as I thought it would be to navigate though I do find it a little annoying that we can't fight using our characters skills. I get why I just don't like it. I wish we'd spent more time in the underground because it's amazing and the way it all looks is so impressive also wish we could buy food and things from the vendors down there.

I beg of Hoyo to give the Fontaine characters even half as much screen time as the Sumeru gang cause I have to say I am far more interested in all the Fontaine characters with only one patch of them then I ever have been with the Sumeru mfers.

#fontaine spoilers #genshin update #genshin impact #archon quest

[darkpoisonouslove]

How was the relationship between Marion and Griffin? I can see that Oritel has a lot of prejudices against her because of the things she did and her relationship with Valtor. But idk about Marion. I can see her be carefull with her but also that she could see how much it take from Griffin to really leave him.

Yeah, that's a pretty good summary.

Marion being wary and cautious makes perfect sense at first. After all, Griffin has tried to kill her and the people she cares about many times. Not to mention that Griffin's sudden defection from the Coven is... suspicious to say the least. It could be a trap. Valtor could have sent her to do recon. And Marion has an entire planet to look after, not to mention her own family. She can't afford mistakes. But that is what also makes her more open to the possibility of Griffin's cooperation. She prefers to let Griffin's crimes slide if that will give her better chances of protecting her people. Oritel, meanwhile, is firmly set on the idea that Griffin needs to face consequences for her actions. He's the less flexible one between him and Marion and he cares more about keeping the person that attempted to harm/kill his family away from said family than he does about the uses of working with Griffin. He's convinced that without her by Valtor's side, they'd have an easier time defeating him anyway.

I also like the idea that Marion and Griffin have the best understanding between them about how they view magic - in general and their own - out of all the CoL members. Hagen and Oritel are depicted more as warriors than as wizards, Saladin frankly hasn't had enough screen time to show much of either but considering that he's the headmaster of RF, I'd say that he relies both on magic and non-magical battle skills at least equally, and Faragonda used to be a witch and then switched to being a fairy, which has probably left her with certain feelings to deal with when it comes to her magic. But to Marion and Griffin their magic essentially dictates their lifestyle and I think that would be a very handy bonding point. Actually, it will probably be something that muscles them into bonding whether they want it or not but the important thing is that it would help them find common language whereas Griffin's magic would probably be part of the problem for Oritel (in the sense that her crimes were instigated by her strong connection to her magic; not in the sense that dark magic is universally evil (although there could possibly be a little bit of that as well)).

#winx club #winx marion #winx griffin #winx oritel #winx headcanons #ask #anon

[satohqbanana]

Here's another attempt on how I will tackle AV2 characters in my story, "The Prince and the Witch", which is a slight AU sequel to the events of Ean's Quest. While the story focuses on Nicolas and an OC, but this post details the way I will handle the main party!

IMPORTANT NOTE: I'm aware that the AV universe is supposed to have a feminist and matriarchal flavor to it. However, there are still integral parts of it that make me feel like it wasn't able to completely discard some male-dominant views. Since certain gimmicks and characterizations do rely on it, here I chose to still consider that side of AV.

Ean

He's just a Regular Guy TM in the Vale. He's had a pretty average life with the simple dream of carrying on everyday with his loved ones and watching them succeed with their own things.

Sometimes, he cares too much, and that's a problem.

He's not afraid to speak his mind, call people out, and demand responsibility from others. He also regularly establishes boundaries when he can. He's willing to back off in the face of a perceived bigger threat, but tries to find loopholes to get his desired outcome.

On that note, Ean could bottle up his rage and frustrations pretty well. He can summon them again in battle and can be scary when he needs to be.

As an elf from the Vale, he probably gets Problem Sense Tingles a la Spidey Sense whenever something in the Land of Man doesn't feel right.

He's a little shy with his romantic feelings for Iya.

He is very nurturing. He tries so hard to understand his party members, but majority of his focus is on Iya.

Among the party members, Rye is his best buddy and also serves as his teacher in battle.

He lets Ava take lead sometimes, and he is very accommodating to everyone else who offers to join them in his quest.

Iya

As someone who was born with potential and raised with praises, all she wants is validation, acceptance, and assurance. She likes doing things for others, if it will make them like her.

Her memories as old Iya are still fuzzy, partly from having her soul ripped apart, partly from being treated poorly by her family.

Song magic does rely on her voice, so she developed the habit of not saying much, until her anxiety gets the better of her.

She often sticks to Ean's side and opinions since she feels the safest next to him. She acts cutesy with him to win his affections and attention. She's always had a crush on him, though prior to her kidnapping she was too focused on pleasing her family to ever act on her feelings.

Thanks to her time in Shaenlir, she has quickly mastered the diplomatic smile. She is also very mindful of rules and would not like to break them or even go around them.

She's not as fond of anyone else in the party, but she's willing to be civil since that's what Ean wants. Emma and Gavin in particular make her a bit uncomfortable.

Rye

There's a specific type of girl he hates and it's the ones who dream of rose-colored lives with rich men saving them from a life of cold, hard manual labor. (He's good with women who he considers are rough and tough, like Emma and Ava.) This is heavily influenced by local girls, especially his older sisters.

He knows he's not as smart and he's insecure about it.

He likes to talk. A lot. He needs to spend energy talking or he'll end up very annoyed and unwilling to cooperate.

As a hunter and a farmer, he is the brawn of the party. He also serves as their cook and initially carried most of their stuff.

He utterly hates Iya and her perceived vulnerability and dependence on Ean.

He thinks what he feels for Emma is something akin to romance, because he genuinely wants to support a hardworking person like her (and Ean).

He respects Ava and Gavin as established people in their respective fields, but hates and envies Nicolas for being so privileged.

Though initially wary of Jack, they vibe together so Rye is willing to overlook the whole criminal thing.

Emma

Having grown in a kingdom obsessed with romantic love, she swore to stand out and be not like other girls for real. She delights in gross and ugly things mostly to make people leave her alone.

That said, she hates being bossed around. She will use the volume of her voice and change her posture to appear bigger.

Whatever she puts her mind to, she is good at it. The only things she would avoid delving in are romantic relationships and kids.

She wasn't too fortunate as a young girl, so as an adult, she promised to always get what she wants.

She isn't romantically interested in Rye, but she thinks he's twice as better as the other available candidates for a spouse since he has similar views on romance and wouldn't be a nuisance about it.

To deal with Nicolas, she plays dumb about his requests so he'd think she's too incompetent to be bossed around.

She likes having Ean as a leader since he allows her to do whatever as long as she's done with her part of the thing. She's less enthused with Ava around since she finds Ava a bit strict for her taste.

She likes to hang with Gavin because he's cool and they have the best banter together (after Rye).

She also likes to bully Iya a bit, because she thinks Iya should grow a spine.

As an occasional thief and mischief maker, she respects Jack's hustle; even asks him for his tips and tricks.

Nicolas

His mother is his father's second wife, thus the big age gap between him and Uthar. He was essentially a rainbow baby so Guevene spoiled him a lot.

The Uthar he met is more prim and proper, a dependable guy with a knack for pranks and fun times. He looks up to his brother and considers Uthar's word as law, so Nicolas will do the dirty work if Uthar tells him so.

Hard pass if it means he has to listen to someone else, though. He will do things when he feels like doing it.

He loves to be pampered. He feels entitled to other people's service. He does not care if they like him or hate him, as long as it does not inconvenience him.

He is very untrustworthy towards people who do not look attractive or "clean" to him, like the witches. He was taught that all these kinds of people would take advantage of him.

He initially only likes Iya among the party members because she knows how to act like a proper lady. He doesn't know she doesn't exactly like him.

He initially doesn't respect Ava and doesn't believe Uthar is friends with her.

He doubts Ean's leadership, but as long as Nicolas fulfills Uthar's request of him, he will see the end of the quest.

Ava

Her real name is Evangeline Harper. She became an outlaw because she hated her origin country's government. She eventually snuck out to sea, made her own name from befriending other runaways, and established her own crew. They use seemingly derogatory codenames to appear unserious and unalarming.

Her ship is called "Freowright". She got stuck in Seri for a bit after the Snow Queen deployed soldiers in the mainland; now Ava has two ships. The other ship, built during the resistance against the Snow Queen, she's nicknamed "The Commissioner".

Ava grew on tough love and thus shows it as well to put people in place. As both a disciplinarian, the oldest, and the most experienced of the party, Ean assigned her as second-in-command.

Unlike Ean who's happy enough to have everyone help in battle or solve mysteries with him, she sees to it that everyone does their share of the work before slacking off.

Ava once wanted to settle down, but things didn't work out. Eventually she started pushing away other potential partners in fear of having to deal with heartbreak again. It doesn't help that she willingly stripped herself of her personal sense of femininity in an effort to look powerful when she was starting out.

She doesn't like to tell her personal stories to everyone, but when she does, it's a sign that the person she's telling it to has earned her trust. The only exception is Iya, who needs much guidance as an amnesiac and lost dreamer.

Gavin

As someone who grew up in a matriarchal society, he unabashedly calls women pet names the way a clique of girls do.

His upbringing doesn't prevent him from trying to actually flirt with girls. He loves women and the company of women. And it doesn't help that he's been so used to the attention of women as a warlock who grew up surrounded by them.

He is essentially a communist who's against excessive hoarding of wealth and thus abhors nobility and royalty alike. He immediately signs up to be the party's provisions manager.

Since he's a warlock, he doesn't really see "ugliness" as an insult. It's part of the charm.

Iya is among the girls he's backed away from, mostly because she and Ean hover around each other too much. Gavin's charms did at one point work on Emma, but they decided that being friends who occasionally "flirt" was way better.

He actually wasn't as romantically interested in Ava, but his witch's nature demand that he annoy her for a bit. When Gavin notices she responds quite favorably with very feminine nicknames and monikers, this interests him because it creates a contrast from the image she portrays. It's this part of her that he likes to try and bring out more.

Jack

He tries not to get too close to anyone because as a criminal, most of his bonds are very shaky and temporary.

He's quite lazy and would rather spend time having fun with friends and what money he has in his pockets.

He has a lot of comments about how to do things. Too bad a lot of them is also outdated.

He likes to get on people's nerves to see how much he could get away with. Only Rye and Emma have "passed" this test. Jack has also learned not to cross Ean too much because Ean's wrath is something else, and that Ava hates hearing her name being lengthened, but won't try to do anything against him for it.

Aside from being the party's resident menace, he also scouts ahead with Rye.

#aveyond #av2 #anne's av2 au #anne's av musings #annelaurant hcs #satoh writes #can i just switch all my tags to satoh #i feel like i'm calling myself by a ghost's name

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

alright i’m trying this again because tumblr’s an ah

you reblogged a gifset a few days ago (that scene where joel asks for tommy’s gun because “maria took mine you know 😔” and it gave me a few ideas over joel and maria’a relationship.

it’s definitely a very complex one, they’re both very wary of one another and they have strong personalities so it’s an issue when they both want to impose what they think is right. but either way, they try, they’re civil towards each other for the sake of tommy.

also i feel like they’re both respectful just because they know how much the other means to tommy. maria has her reasons not to trust joel but she’s heard from countless stories that it’s always been joel and tommy against the world whether it was before the o it break or right after. and joel can’t deny how happy his brother looks with his wife.

so yeah, a lot of respect but it will never go over cordiality. but then they both have one very important thing in common which i feel like it would lead them to bond at some point: they both know the pain of losing your own child. of course everyone in the post-outbreak world has a sense of loss, everyone has lost somebody but it’s different. tommy and ellie can relate on some level because they’ve lost people too but even if tommy mourns for sarah, it’s always gonna be different than the way joel mourns for her. and it’s something maria can understand a little bit more. yes, she has never known sarah and has no connection to her apart from the stories she’s heard but she knows all too well the pain of a parent having their own child taken from them so violently.

so maybe joel’s depressed because sarah’s death anniversary (or whatever) is coming around and neither ellie or tommy can do anything. there’s nothing to say, nothing to do so they just…try to give him space (and knowing joel, he’s probably shutting himself off even more during that time). of course, he tries to power through, act all tough and drown his sorrows in alcohol. and tommy’s worried, he knows joel, he’s still traumatized from the events that followed sarah’s death and it ends up reaching maria. he shares his worries, tells her that joel acts tough and like he’s handling it even when he’s falling apart. he doesn’t say all that thinking maria would do something about it, it’s more a “this is really worrying me and i need to vent a little”

but maria finds joel one night. maybe they all had dinner together, joel stepped outside while tommy and ellie got out some board game and maria prepared some coffee for everyone. she goes to joel, just to give him the coffee but instead of leaving she stays, she’s unsure and it’s a little bit awkward because what is she supposed to say?

but still, she finds a way to introduce the topic. she talks about kevin and joel can see that pain he feels reflecting in her eyes. it’s a shock, something unexpected because it’s the first time since tess that he feels truly understood.

she isn’t just maria—his sister-in-law he pretty much tolerated—she’s a mother who lost her child just as violently as he lost his and she knows, she understands that suffering he can’t put words on because no words in any language ever are enough to describe it.

it’s pretty quiet, the kind of moment where two people are comforting one another just by being here. but it definitely changes things. they both soften, realizing that they’re not the walls they put up in order to survive and they can somehow rely on the other to understand the pain.

from that one night, it evolves. probably more quiet nights, some where they talk a little— maria mentions her fears as a new mother, joel shares how terrified he is that ellie ends up like sarah— and although they’re not best friends by the end of it, they still care immensely about one another. they’re family after all 🥹

Sweet anon, did you just - drop a heartachingly gentle and brilliant incisive look into Joel and Maria's relationship with no warning at all? Not even a peep of a warning??

This was so beautifully thought out and analysed. I am in awe and I have no notes - you captured that antagonism and complexity between those two so well. Thank you for sharing this, I haven't written much of Maria into Seams so far, and when I do, I can only hope I'll be able to capture the dynamics half as well as you did ❤️

#fuckyeahseams #fuckyeahasks #joel miller #maria miller

[animeomegas]

ahh youre so good at character and world building!! if your ocs were in a show id watch it 10/10🤧

do you have any tips on that? ive been wanting to start a blog surrounding ocs and things like that but creating anything beyond personality is so hard😭💔

thank you for sharing your ocs with us btw! theyre so interesting i would commit various acts of violence for both hadrian and matthew

Aww, thank you so much!! That makes me so happy to hear ♥♥♥ Hadrian and Matthew are both so dear to my heart, so I'm glad they have people to protect them hehe.

Why don't I tell you my process for writing OCs and their stories? Hopefully something in my process will be able to help you! And if you do ever start the blog, let me know, I'd love to see it <33

So, here is how I make the original stories and characters:

One: Setting

I always start with the setting I want. Something I like, something interesting! For the sake of this list, I'm going to use an example that I'll write on the fly so you can see how it works.

So, let's go with a magical university! A secretive and incredibly prestigious and hard to get into magical university.

Two: The love interest

Next I choose a love interest that fits with the setting, I don't worry about plot yet! Feel free to rely on tropes and character archetypes here because you'll be adding more depth to the love interest later.

So, who fits the vibes of a magical university. Let's say a prodigy third year! He's aloof, cold and arrogant, not to mention wickedly smart. Those are the basics we start with.

Three: The MC

Now, we think about who could get close to someone like this? I picked someone very prickly and cold who isn't going to be open to much conversation, so how do I make an MC who will be in a situation to force interaction?

He ignores the other students, so she can't be a student and a teacher would be immoral and weird, so who is she?

What about a journalist who specialises in magical theory but can't do magic themselves? The university is allowing one journalist behind their doors for the first time in forever to report on the inside of the university and demystify it a little. They pair her up with their prodigy student to shadow his lessons and get an idea of life there through the eyes of their best student. She has to interview and shadow him, so they have to interact! Done!

Four: Ask a random question

Next, I ask a random question that sticks out to me from the premise and use it to start crafting my plot.

The question that sticks out to me here, is why was the MC picked to do this incredibly important and ground breaking role? Yes, she's talented at magical theory, but there must be people older and more experienced who can do the same?

Now, I answer to question:

The university specifically wanted someone young. They wanted someone at the beginning of their career that they could easily silence if they tried to expose secrets or frame the university in a way they didn't like. They also wanted someone who would be more easily intimidated into following the rules they set and bowing to the wants of the university and figured someone young would be more likely to be like that.

Five: Follow on questions

Now I expand on that question. Why are they opening their doors at all then? And why are they so obsessed with the image they're portraying?

Well, they want a good public opinion on them. People are wary of them, despite respecting the prestige, so they want people to think more positively of them while still maintaining the healthy respect. Why?

What if there was a secret faction to the university that held a good chunk of the upper staff and post graduate students? What if they were so arrogant that they thought they should be the ones running the country? What if they wanted to stage a coup, and this was their method of making the common people more receptive to them to lessen their fight?

Six: The plot

So, what we have here then, is a secretive and elite magical university which is trying to humanise themselves by opening up information to the public for the first time, but is doing so in a heavily controlled and paranoid way. There is a powerful secret society hoping to stage a coup, comprised of some of the most brilliant magical minds in the world, including many teachers and post-graduate students.

MC and the aloof but brilliant third year start to uncover the secret together because MC asks all the right questions as a journalist and the aloof student can never leave a question unanswered.

Boom, there is your over arching plot!

Seven: The bullet point list

Then I just make a bullet list of random thoughts I have to flesh it out, like this:

Student was going to be poached next year after he joined the master's programme. He was important to their cause and they are unhappy that he's pulling away and interacting with an outsider.

The story is told in a combination of normal prose, the articles that the journalist is writing, and the student's diary entries.

Most students look down on the journalist because she can't do magic, but she is so good at magical theory, she rivals the prodigy.

There's a teacher that was thought to be trustworthy, but actually isn't and is a big believer of overthrowing the government and allowing magical people to rule at the top where he thinks they belong.

Etc. etc. etc.

Then, by the end, I have enough of a fleshed out story to pick a scene and write it! While I write that scene, I try to flesh out the characters and their backstories, but you said you were okay with personality, so I'll leave that bit to you!! But feel free to ask any more questions if you want to know how I design backstories and personality x

I hope that helped in some way!! If you ever want to bounce some ideas off me, I'm more than happy for you to do so, either through my inbox or in my dms! I have been told that I am very good as a soundboard for plot writing haha.

Have a good day, anon!!

#asks #writing advice

[loosescrewslefty]

Oh another one...

What do you about the idea of Emerald Trio (Willow, Gus and Hunter) is a reverse parallel of the Witch, Philip and Caleb? Especially considering how Hunter treats Gus as a little brother. In a way they could be like "what if Philip wasn't a asshole" route .

I don't think the comparison fits as well as people want it to myself, because people are dismissing Gus and Willow's existing relationship to instead focus on their relation to Hunter, which does all three characters a disservice. Gus and Willow were friends long before Hunter came into their lives, and love and cherish each other very much for being the only person they could rely on in the most difficult periods of both of their lives. Gus' initial wariness of Hunter wasn't born of prejudice like Philip's hatred of Wittewife, but because he loved Willow and wanted her to be happy and was afraid Hunter would hurt her.

And while Gus is MUCH closer than he initially was with Hunter now, I don't think that their bond overshadows the way he cares about Willow. And Willow, in the meantime, grew more fond of Hunter not in spite of Gus' mistrust and objections, but because Gus and Hunter moved past them and became close. Her soft 'Thanks Hunter' in response to Hunter saving Gus in Labyrinth Runners reminded me of the 'Thank you,' that Amity gave Luz for loaning her the Good Witch Azura book at the end of Lost in Languages, when her feelings had just turned to that of a crush.

Also, while the Wittebros relationship is seeped in betrayal and a selfishness on the part of Philip, who felt that the family bonds that he and Caleb shared through birth should have been more important than Caleb's love for his wife, Willow, Gus, and Hunter have no such sense of entitlement. None of them were obligated to love and help one another. But they CHOSE to do so anyways, because they understand loneliness and pain and saw something in each other worth loving, much like Eda, King, and Luz.

And even if the shapes of their love are different for each of them, they are all equally cherished by one another, and the person who is not involved in a specific corners' relationship as a pair (Willow/Hunter, Willow+Gus, Gus+Hunter) still manages to strenthen those bonds without intruding on that corner of the relationship or needing to fall to the wayside so that the pair can get attention without them. I've never seen anything like that in any media before, and it's a beautiful thing that just makes me love all three even more.

#the owl house #toh #toh spoilers #the owl house spoilers #toh hunter #willow park #gus porter #huntlow #emerald trio #is that what we're calling this dynamic? #I approve #especially since I have knowledge about the language of gemstones and know that emeralds symbolize love #have I mentioned that I am VERY emotional about these three and their bond?

[blackkatmagic]

Could I please request a drabble with Mace meeting Jaster? Time travel shenanigans would be loved and heart-eyed, but are not required.

“A Jedi is hiring a Mandalorian for a job?” Jaster asks, one brow raised, and can't help the thread of incredulity that creeps into his voice. “Perhaps you're confused, Jetii, but our people have been enemies for millennia.”

“I'm well aware,” the Jedi says, unmoving. Jaster has, admittedly, never been quite this close to a Jedi, and he can't help but be faintly impressed at the man’s stoneface, particularly given the bright-eyed Chalactan girl peering around his side. Her hands are hooked into his sash without any apparent fear of being shaken off, or any apparent concern for her Master’s dignity, and Jaster finds himself reluctantly amused despite the man’s temerity.

“Oh?” Jaster asks, leaning back in his chair. His blaster is within easy reach, and the Jedi is far enough away that Jaster has the advantage. “Bold of you to approach me with a job offer, then.”

“Is it?” the man asks, and reaches up, folding his hood back. Jaster stills, startled, because he hadn’t thought there were Korun Jedi—Myles has always been very insistent that the Korun people have their own Force traditions, and outsiders aren’t welcome to step into them. He’s a handsome one, too, tall and broad shouldered, with a lean strength to him that even the loose, comfortable robes can't hide. Steady, he meets Jaster's eyes, and says, low, “It seems to me, Mand’alor, that our status as enemies means no one will suspect me of having hired you.”

Ah, Jaster thinks, smiling. Like that, is it. He hums, then says, “Jango, who don’t you show this lovely padawan the gardens? I'm sure she would like to see them.”

“What?” Jango demands, outraged the way only a fourteen-year-old can be. “Buir, I'm not leaving—”

Jaster levels a pointed look at his son, and his mouth snaps shut. He scowls, deep and affronted, and crosses his arms over his chest. “You shouldn’t be meeting with a Jedi alone,” he says grumpily. “Myles is going to yell at you.”

“Myles will survive,” Jaster says, though it’s likely true. “Master Jedi, I hope you don’t object to speaking privately.”

“Of course not,” the Jedi says, perfectly calm, and glances down at his padawan. “Depa. Be polite.”

That is, Jaster reflects wryly, an incrediblyfamiliar tone of voice. He’s willing to bet the girl gets herself into almost as much trouble as Jango, given how practiced it sounds.

And, on cue, the girl beams up at her Master without hesitation. “I'm always polite, Master Mace,” she protests, perfectly, wickedly innocent. Mace doesn’t answer, just sighs, and Depa laughs, rising up on her tiptoes. She hauls him down, no thought given to dignity, and plants a loud, showy kiss on his cheek, then hops back two steps and turns that smile on Jango, who freezes like he was just dipped in carbonite, his eyes going wide.

She is, Jaster thinks with amusement, a very pretty girl. He wonders how quickly Jango will manage to stick his foot in his mouth this time. Within ten minutes, judging by last time. Jaster doesn’t precisely have high hopes for their interaction, but at least this isn't the daughter of a high-profile client that Jango is going to offend. The Jedi needs them, not the other way around, and given Jedi morals, he likely won't turn to the Death Watch the instant he’s insulted.

“Depa,” Mace says, a warning, but Depa ignores it, grinning at Jango and folding her hands behind her.

“I would love to see the garden,” she says cheerfully. “Jango, was it?”

“Jango Fett,” Jango says, only a little mulishly, and takes a careful step forward, like he’s worried she’s going to bite him. “It’s this way, I guess.”

He couldn’t sound less enthusiastic if he tried. Jaster rather suspects he is.

As the door slides shut behind their two witnesses, though, Jaster's amusement fades slightly, and he turns his gaze on Mace, narrow and thoughtful as he considers the man, his presence on Mandalore, the quiet, entirely understated way he arrived.

“This isn't a mission from the Jedi Order,” he says, weighing. “I might even go so far as to say they have no idea of your presence here.”

“They don’t,” Mace says bluntly. “I'm here on my own business, and acting on information the Jedi Council isn't privy to.” There's a pause, and then a rueful curve just touches one corner of his mouth. “Believe me, Mand’alor. I do not go behind the Council’s back easily. This is vital, and I'm willing to provide the funds to prove it.”

Jaster smiles, a little humorless, a little thin. He’s not fond of being played, and this sounds very much like Mace is trying. “I have plenty of credits, Master Jedi. Why should I find yours any more appealing than anyone else’s?”

Mace doesn’t hesitate this time, just raises his chin. “Because I have something that is far more valuable than credits,” he says calmly. “I can provide you with information.”

It is, Jaster will admit, a tempting prospect, but he’s still wary. “Jedi information? Access to the Archives, perhaps? If I wanted dry Jedi tomes on political law—”

“No,” Mace interrupts, flat, and takes two steps forward, until he’s right across Jaster's desk. “Far more important and immediate information. Such as the name of the traitor who will kill you. And the location of Jango Fett's older sister.”

Jaster freezes, hardly daring to breathe. Arla was gone by the time he’d made it back to the Fett homestead on Concord Dawn, and no trace of her has ever surfaced. Jaster has been looking, because Jango speaks of her endlessly, but—

“That,” he rasps, voice half-caught in his throat, “could be considered blackmail, Master Jedi.”

Mace tips his head. “Proof of my desperation,” he says, and there's no self-consciousness to it, just blunt honesty. A pause, and then he says, faintly rueful, “I’ll give you her location whether you take the job or not. The Death Watch has her.”

Jaster was afraid of that. He breathes out, slow, careful, and—the willingness to offer up half of his bargaining chips makes him more inclined to trust Mace, even if a flicker of wariness still remains. “And the job is?”

Mace doesn’t waver, doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t flinch. “I want you to assassinate the senior senator from Naboo. Sheev Palpatine. He’s a Sith apprentice.”

Of all the things that Jaster was expecting, that most certainly wasn’t among them.

It takes him a long moment to scrape together a coherent response, another still to get the words right. “Apprentice,” he echoes. “Usually, an apprentice follows a master. Who is the Sith Master, then?”

“A scientist and a banker,” Mace says coolly. “Palpatine is the more dangerous target, and a better duelist. I can handle the Master, but the apprentice I would leave to someone more adept at assassinations.”

It would hardly be the first time the Mandalorians have been hired for such a thing, and Jaster is more than willing to do it. Knowing that Mace will be fighting his own battle allays some of Jaster's fears as well, and he leans on one arm of his chair, considering the man.

“A fraught mission,” he says, “on both parts. You have a plan, I assume.”

If anything, Mace looks amused at that. “The Jedi do not plan,” he says, a trace of humor in the words. “I trust the Force to see me through, however. And as I am training Depa, I will have all the time I need to see things through.”

Jedi, Jaster thinks, and doesn’t roll his eyes. Quite. “And would you care to tell me where you got this information, Master Jedi? Particularly about a traitor within the ranks of the True Mandalorians. I must admit that one surprises me.”

Mace is silent for another moment. “From the future,” he finally offers. “I traveled back with the help of a Force nexus. In the time I came from, the True Mandalorians were wiped out, and the Sith won.”

Something cold slides down Jaster's spine, and he rises slowly, comes to his feet to face the Jedi. Mace meets his eyes, holds his gaze, and—

He looks tired, Jaster thinks, calculating, considering. Tired in a bone-deep, weary way that Jaster had managed to miss before, buried as it was by his determination. Traveled back from the future, through time itself, and Jaster didn’t know such a thing was possible.

Not possible for most people, he thinks, watching Mace. And not optimal even for this one.

“Very well,” he says after a long minute of silence. “But on the condition that you stay here and provide your information throughout the mission. I won't have a Sith kill my men because you think you have better things to do.”

The relief that slides over Mace's expression is subtle, but—Jaster catches it easily. “Agreed,” he says. “We will rely on your hospitality, Mand’alor.”

“Jaster, please,” Jaster says, and moves around the end of his desk, taking Mace's arm. Muscled, he thinks, and that’s likely a good sign. Not a useless Jedi, hopefully. Not if he’s certain he can take on a Sith. “I think the use of first names is allowable now that you're my guest.”

“You have a liberal interpretation of guest,” Mace says dryly, but he doesn’t pull away as Jaster leads him out of the office, and Jaster is willing to count it as a win.

[On AO3]

#my writing #jastermace #jaster mereel #mace windu #star wars