#Part 2.5

[of-love-and-loyalty]

Strays - Part 2.5

Zuma woke up to the sound of soft footsteps approaching the cardboard box, which he and Rocky had been sharing as their makeshift shelter. He lifted his head to look up, blinking the sleep away, and smiled when he saw who it was.

“Katie! You’re back!” he said happily.

“Of course!” Katie crouched down as soon as Zuma stood up to trot over to her, tail wagging furiously when she reached over to give him ear scratches. “I told you guys I’d be back to give Rocky his medicine.”

Rocky stirred awake from hearing their voices, but hadn’t moved until he heard his name. He frowned, disgruntled, and turned away from them.

The movement didn’t go unnoticed by Katie, who chuckled, amused.

“Come on, Rocky. This will help you get better.”

“But it tastes so bad,” the mutt whined quietly.

“I know, I know…” she replied apologetically. “But that’s why I brought something to help this time!”

She sat down on the ground and placed her small backpack down beside her, opening it up to dig around for something. Whatever she was looking for, it was the scent that initially caught both of the puppies’ attention.

Zuma’s ears perked up. He tilted his head to the left, watching curiously.

Rocky’s ears lifted in intrigue as well, turning his head to finally look in their direction while sniffing the air. Whatever it was, it smelled so good.

“Ah ha! Here they are!” Katie exclaimed triumphantly. She pulled out two small pup bowls — one was orange, the other was green. They appeared worn down, old, scratched from probable overuse by previous pups at some point.

She placed them down to the side, before searching around in her backpack again to find a small plastic container. She opened it up and poured its contents into both bowls.

The puppies’ eyes widened. Zuma was almost drooling at the sight. The warm smell invaded their nostrils like a truck crashing into them at full speed, almost overwhelming, reminding them that their stomachs had been mostly empty and twisting with hunger for a while now.

Sausage. It was sausage.

Both bowls were now filled with sausages chopped up in pieces. For Rocky and Zuma, who had only been eating cold leftovers taken out of garbage bins for several days… it was like a dream.

“Is… is that… for us?” Zuma couldn’t take his eyes off of the closest bowl — the orange one — but he noticed out of the corner of his eye that Rocky still appeared slightly wary.

“Yep!” Katie confirmed with a nod. “Let me just…”

She picked up a sausage piece and stuffed the pill inside of it, put it back in the green bowl, and mixed everything together. Rocky frowned, tilting his head, puzzled.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m hiding your antibiotic. I’ve seen the techs do this at my dad’s clinic,” she explained, placing the bowl a little closer to the box in hopes of encouraging him to eat. “The taste of the sausage should cover up the taste of the medicine, so you won’t even notice when you swallow it. No more bad taste for you!”

“Heh, that’s smart!” Zuma wagged his tail. “If I ever get sick, will you do that for me too?”

“Of course! But… let’s hope we won’t need to do this for either of you ever again after this week.” Katie chuckled, then looked expectantly at Rocky.

The small mutt eyed the bowl suspiciously, but despite his hesitance, still made an effort to sit up. The scent was successfully luring him, promising him relief from his constant hunger. Slowly, Rocky stood up and took a few tiny steps, legs wobbling dangerously and barely lifting his paws from the floor as he dragged himself out of the box. He moved towards the green bowl with the stuff that smelled like paradise.

“Do you need help?” Zuma offered, but Rocky subtly shook his head.

“No. I can do this.”

Katie and Zuma watched silently. Rocky seemed to be in so much pain, and combined with his weakened state making it such a huge effort to move, the two of them were afraid of disturbing his focus.

Katie suddenly moved forward like a bullet as soon as she noticed his legs start to give out due to how badly they were shaking.

Rocky felt the strength leave his body. His legs felt so heavy just a moment ago, and now… it was like they didn’t even exist at all. They gave into his weight. He squeezed his eyes shut, fully expecting the bruising impact of the ground.

But the pain never came. Something caught him, just under his chest and under his neck, supporting his head.

Confused, Rocky slowly opened his eyes to see Katie holding him up. She offered him a gentle smile, carefully lifting him until his paws were firmly on the floor once again.

“You can do this, Rocky,” she encouraged. “I’ll just keep my hand here, just in case. I won’t let you fall. But I know you can do this! Just keep going.”

Her hand was under him as promised, but she wasn’t touching him anymore. Rocky blinked, trying to figure out what her intentions were, but the warm and pleasant smell wafting through the air from the green bowl just a few steps away clouded his thoughts.

Slowly, step by step, he made it to the bowl and nearly collapsed when he sat down to start eating. His front legs didn’t have the strength to hold him up either, so he ended up laying down on his stomach to eat.

Only after Rocky had started eating did Zuma allow himself to literally advance on his bowl too, absolutely demolishing the entirety of its contents in a matter of seconds, which earned a giggle from Katie.

“Woah, slow down!” She patted the Labrador’s back. “You could choke if you eat so fast! The food isn’t going anywhere!”

“S- sorry!” he apologized with an embarrassed grin. “It’s just… it’s just…”

“I know.” She scratched behind his ear. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll bring you guys some more of this in the morning. Maybe some other snacks too.”

Zuma was thrilled to hear that, and turned to look at Rocky, hoping to share his happiness. Rocky was eating slowly, but his ears were turned towards them, indicating that he was clearly paying close attention. Zuma’s own attention was pulled back to Katie when she patted him again.

“I’ll bring you guys some snacks and treats after he’s done with his medicine too,” she reassured. “My dad really won’t let me take you guys home with me… but I can keep visiting you guys. I won’t leave you alone. Promise.”

“Does he know you’re doing this…?” Rocky questioned, eyes shifting away and keeping his face buried in the bowl.

She shrugged. “He knows I’m bringing your meds.”

“And after that?”

“I’ll just be careful.”

“He’ll be mad at you.” Rocky finally lifted his face to look up at her, his brow furrowing in concern. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“I won’t get in trouble,” the girl insisted. “Who’s gonna tell him? No one else knows about you guys.”

Zuma and Rocky exchanged a glance.

They didn’t have anyone else. They only had each other. And here was Katie, promising them food, company, scratches, smiles. They needed this.

“Alright.” Rocky sighed in resignation. He was exhausted. He had almost finished eating his sausage and desperately wanted to go back to the box.

“Oh wait! There’s one more thing!” Katie rifled through her bag once more and pulled out a blue towel. She rushed over to line the surface of the box with it before Rocky could lie back down. “Now you won’t need to rest on a hard surface.”

Rocky walked cautiously back inside. Zuma followed him in once the gray pup had settled down, excitedly wagging his tail and cuddling up next to him.

“This is so fluffy! And soft!” Zuma exclaimed with an appreciative grin, nuzzling up between Rocky and the towel. “Thanks, dude!”

“No problem!” The girl nodded with a smile. “Rocky, keep resting, okay? Bye, guys! I’ll be back in the morning!”

Rocky nodded and watched as she skipped away again, just like the previous day… only this time, he wasn’t feeling… whatever that sick feeling was that he had felt yesterday — when her father had called him a mutt and refused to allow her to take them home. When he outright said that Rocky could be aggressive. Hearing someone say it like that… it hurt. A lot. He really didn’t like that.

But this time, Rocky didn’t feel anything at all.

Thankfully, that meant none of those unpleasant sick feelings either.

“I knew she would help you.” Zuma smiled, eyes still on Katie as she turned a corner and disappeared out of the alley. He turned to look at Rocky. He seemed relieved. “Katie helped me before… you know. Before I got on the streets. I just knew she would help you too.”

**********

Katie came back the next day, just like she promised. This time, she brought some pieces of chicken to help Rocky take his meds.

Rocky liked the taste. He liked it a lot. It was definitely better than the small amount he could scrape off bones that he would find in the dumpster.

**********

On the third day, Katie brought them what Zuma immediately decided was the best and tastiest snack to ever exist — peanut butter. Rocky was already up and walking around by the time Katie arrived, which made her beam brightly. She also removed a few of the bandages, explaining that he should only need two of them now. His deepest wounds still needed some protection.

**********

On the fourth day, Katie was a little late. She managed to make it soon enough, huffing from the effort of running.

“I was looking for something for you guys,” she excused herself while she pulled out a strangely shaped orange object. It was a curious thing. Neither puppy had ever seen anything like it before.

“This is for you, Zuma!” She handed the object to him, placing it on the ground for him to inspect.

“What is this?” Zuma inquired curiously.

“It's a chew toy,” she explained. “You can chew on it. It feels good… or so I’ve been told. Go ahead! Try it!”

Zuma caught it in his mouth and lightly bit it. His eyes widened and he grinned, biting again more enthusiastically. Katie giggled as the puppy quite literally lit up, wagging his tail excitedly, all while chewing on his new toy.

“What a weird shape!” he commented once he finally let go of it. He couldn’t stop smiling.

“It's called an anchor! It's an object that they keep on boats. It’s made of heavy metal, so it sinks to the bottom of the sea and holds the boat in place. That way, the ocean won't take them away!”

“Oh, that's cool!” Zuma chewed on it a little more. “I’ve never seen the ocean, only on TV. Do you think I'll see it someday?”

“Maybe! Who knows? And speaking of water…” Katie smiled while she went through the contents in her bag, this time pulling out a red towel.

“Another towel?” Zuma tilted his head curiously.

“You told me Rocky doesn’t like getting wet,” Katie turned to Rocky to hand the towel over to him. “So you can use one towel to keep you off the hard floor, and the other one can dry you off in case you get wet for whatever reason.”

Rocky grabbed the towel with his teeth, carefully, and dragged it inside the box. He tucked it in the corner where he liked to sleep.

“I… uh…” He shuffled his paws on the floor, then looked up at her with a small smile. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” Katie continued to smile, giving him a gentle ear scratch.

**********

On the fifth day, Katie brought sausages again. Zuma cried dramatically (just for the show) for more peanut butter. Rocky pretended like he didn’t care, but Katie caught the way his eyes were literally shining and how his tail wagged slightly at the mention of the snack. She laughed and promised she’d bring more the next day.

**********

On the sixth day, much to Zuma's (and not so secretly Rocky's) delight, Katie brought more peanut butter.

And, for the first time, Katie saw a real, genuine smile on Rocky’s face. His tail wagged. His ears were up, even the injured one. He didn't seem wary, uneasy, or afraid anymore, and now that she saw a glimpse of his actual self, she couldn't be happier.

Because this meant that he was recovering well, and she was just so happy that she had been able to help him with his healing process.

Rocky was so busy enjoying the peanut butter with Zuma that he didn't notice the way Katie smiled at him.

**********

On the seventh day, Katie brought something different.

The puppies were already awake when she arrived. At this point, they were used to waiting for her arrival, and as usual, Zuma was the first to catch her scent even before she turned the corner. He stepped out of the box to anxiously wait for her. Rocky yawned and stretched, but waited inside the box.

“Katie!” Zuma greeted as soon as he saw her. “What did you bring today? It smells different!”

“You got a sharp nose!�� Katie joked as she put her backpack on the ground. It seemed heavier than usual, which caught Rocky's attention. “Bring your bowls here, boys!”

Both puppies did as requested and Katie opened her bag to reveal another bag. This one was half filled with something they had only ever seen in pet shops.

“Are these… cookies?” Rocky tried to guess, tilting his head curiously as she poured some into their bowls.

“Close enough,” the girl mixed the last antibiotic pill inside the green bowl. “These smaller ones are called kibble, and it’s actual dog food. This version is for puppies. It has everything you need to grow strong and healthy! And these bigger ones are pup treats! I'll leave the bag here so you can eat more tomorrow morning.”

Rocky glanced up, frowning slightly. “You're not coming tomorrow…?”

Zuma's eyes widened in alarm. “But you promised!”

“I know!” she quickly reassured. “I can't come tomorrow because I'm going to visit my uncle. We’re going to spend the weekend there. So I'll leave some food with you guys for the next two days, alright? I promise I’ll be back Monday morning to see how you're doing.”

Rocky tilted his head. His concerned frown had turned into one of confusion. “Uh… What's an uncle…?”

“It's what we call a parent's sibling. In this case, it's my mom’s older brother,” Katie explained. She found it weird - and sad - that he didn't know one of the simplest terms for relatives, but chose not to comment on that.

“Oh. Is he nice like you?”

“No one's as nice as Katie!” Zuma responded, already trying out his new food. “She brings the best food and gifts ever.”

“I'm just doing what a good friend does.” She patted Zuma's back, earning a very enthusiastic wagging tail for it.

**********

Later, that night, Rocky was cuddled up with Zuma in an attempt to sleep, but something was keeping him awake. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Katie said earlier.

‘Just doing what a good friend does’...

What did that mean? Did she consider them her friends? She barely knew them. She hadn’t spent that much time with them — only about a half an hour every morning for the last week.

How could she already think of them as friends? Rocky didn't really understand that. Wasn't this supposed to only happen after someone knew the other longer?

“Dude… you're still awake.” Zuma half opened his eyes to look at him. “Is something hurting…?”

“N- no. I'm fine.”

It wasn't a lie. He didn't feel any pain.

Zuma looked at him funny. Rocky averted his gaze for a moment, but could still feel his honey green eyes fixated on him. He was about to ask Zuma why he was staring, but Zuma yawned and cuddled up again, closing his eyes.

“She said she'll be back in two days. Go to sleep,” he mumbled drowsily.

How did he know he was thinking about her?

Rocky stared at him for a moment, before realizing that Zuma had fallen back asleep. His breathing evened out, barely audible snores sounding softly with each inhale.

With a sigh, Rocky cuddled up, closing his eyes as well. The next morning would feel weird without Katie visiting them, though he still couldn't figure out exactly why. She was done bringing him his medication, and yet, she promised that she would keep coming back for them. She kept bringing them things like snacks, toys, towels… She didn't need to do any of that.

She said it was what friends do.

Was she becoming their friend…?

[butterboy69420]

I stuck these silly girls on the back of my phone since I got a new one. Decided to chibi-ify them. They came out really tiny.

Oh, apparently I've never posted Hayana or Lyric on my Tumblr before? Oh well, here they are. Hayana (red one) WAS gonna the protagonist for part 2.5... Until I demoted her from MC status.

[pancakehauses]

Just to give everyone a heads up, these are the preview clips and bonus content we're getting from PBS for the N2N pro-shot. First clip drops on Tuesday! Also, the "Behind the Curtain" video is nearly 15 minutes long.

[zorlok-if]

Hmm, do you smell that?

I think someone is cooking...

Text Transcription:

The demon

My former self.

Mary and Terry getting what's coming to them + Mary falling flat on her face + When a random junior called Terry out for being a jerk that one time

Enacting vengeance upon the bullies, Mary and Terry, who target Tommy / Tommy's adversar(ies/y), (Mary and Terry/Mary/Terry), receiving the punishment(s) (they/she/he) deserve(s).

Jin's cousin's vintage red sports car

The red sporting car owned by detective $ae.Adam Park, elder cousin of Jinho Park.

When Jin scored the winning goal during his first varsity game

Jinho Park, the boy Tommy essentially sold his soul for. + Winning, especially when you are predicted to lose.

(if just:) Pretty much everything about Jin

Jinho Park, the boy Tommy essentially sold his soul for.

Clara's smile, <<if $pro.mem.includes('tomAssert')>>Clara's amazing skills as a GM and an artist<<else>>The way Clara defended me without hesitation<</if>>

Tommy's friend Clara Jones<<if $pro.cool.includes("<<if $pro.mem.includes('tomAssert')>>Clara's amazing skills as a GM and an artist<<else>>The way Clara defended me without hesitation<</if>>")>><<if $pro.mem.includes('tomAssert')>> and her many talents<<else>><</if>><<else>><</if>>.

<<if $pro.mem.includes('tomAssert')>>Clara's amazing skills as a GM and an artist<<else>>The way Clara defended me without hesitation<</if>>") and [Chill or Passive Tommy in prologue]

Defending a friend's honor without hesitation.

The ability to do magic

The ability to wield magic and bend the world to your whim.

Werewolves

Lycanthropes<<if _WerewolfText>>, which I apparently expressed a distaste for.<<else>>, apparently.<</if>>

Not having to go to church

Refusing to participate in organized religion. (Though, Tommy—demon summoner extraordinaire—might be biased on this point.)

Carmen having to do the dishes instead of me

<<if _CarmenText>>When a family member has to clean<<else>>Having someone else clean<</if>> up after you.

Levi's keyblade collection

<<if _LeviText>>Keyblades. Whether these are blades made of keys, blades shaped like keys, or keys fashioned into blades, I am unsure. Tommy's friend Levi is currently in possession of them.<<else>>The keyblades crafted by one known as Levi. Whether they are blades made of keys, blades shaped like keys, or keys fashioned into blades, I cannot be sure—but they sound exciting.<</if>>

[saphronethaleph]

Parahumans: A Measured Response

“Hey, L, you’ve got to see this!” Alec called, and Lisa groaned.

“Is this going to be you doing another headshot?” she asked.

“No, no, this genuinely is a big deal,” Alec replied. “It’s a big long video explainer thing, and, uh… I’m like five minutes in and this sounds like a big deal.”

“Fine, fine, whatever,” Lisa decided, thinking about the work she’d been doing for the Boss and how it really could wait for a bit.

Fuck him, anyway.

Besides, if it was some kind of big video explainer, she could get a fun few minutes out of taking it apart.

She locked her laptop and went through into Alec’s room, where he had his own computer on and was scrubbing back through a video.

“Okay, here we go,” Alec said. “It’s past the titles and stuff, this is where the first section starts.”

Lisa glanced down at the video scrollbar, and blinked.

“...Alec, this video is five hours long,” she said.

“Yeah, he’s outdone himself this time I guess,” Alec replied. “But the last one was, like, a hundred and ten minutes about autism and vaccines or something, so this isn’t that long in comparison.”

“It really is,” Lisa muttered, rolling her eyes. “Okay, let’s see if this is worth anything.”

Alec hit the spacebar, and the video began to play.

“Part one,” a British voice said, over a title card. “How do Tinker powers work. Spoilers: They don’t!”

Lisa blinked.

“Is this a conspiracy theory thing?” she asked.

“Shush,” Alec advised her, politely.

“I know, that’s going to immediately make me sound like I’m completely crazy,” the video creator went on. “How can Tinker powers not work when they clearly do? Well, that’s the thing, because Tinker powers are supposed to be about technology, but it’s been clearly and repeatably recorded in experiments going back decades that the technology Tinkers build only works when they build it.”

He threw up his hands, waving a sheaf of paper. “And I was as skeptical about this as you probably are, but I actually looked at the studies. The first one is by the British government, which did it in partnership with Oxford university, and – I know, but, listen, they sometimes do good research besides just coincidentally having one of their literature professors accidentally invent an entire genre…”

Lisa glanced down at the video bar again, which had barely moved, then frowned.

Her power hadn’t given her anything.

Well? She thought, gingerly poking the part of her brain that usually resulted in insights.

...section title is not incorrect, her power informed her, reluctantly.

“...Alec, what are the other section titles?” Lisa asked.

“You’re interested now, huh?” Alec asked, pausing the video, and showed the description.

“...part three: I might get black-ops’d for this,” Lisa repeated. “...the fuck? The leader of the PRT is a parahuman?”

Alexandria, her power stated.

“...fuck,” Lisa muttered. “Well, that’s not good… okay, unpause it, let’s see how bad this is going to get…”

Fortuna hit pause.

Two seconds later, the door opened, and Rebecca leaned in.

“What. The fuck?” she asked, then her gaze flicked to the screen of Fortuna’s computer. “Is that the video?”

“Yes,” Fortuna replied.

“How exactly could you let this happen?” Rebecca asked. “Have you seen what this video is about?”

“Yes,” Fortuna repeated. “The section titles make it quite obvious.”

“Yeah, the section titles make it obvious, all right,” Rebecca replied. “Section One: How do Tinker powers work, spoiler, they don’t. Section one point five, how does Dragon’s power work then. Section two: Wait, is Dragon an AI!?”

She pronounced the interrobang very well, and Fortuna looked up.

“Do you have a point?” she asked.

“Of course I have a point!” Rebecca said. “And I know you know that – you’re a precog, why are you asking?”

“Path to a productive end to the conversation,” Fortuna answered. “The next bit is that you continue listing off the section titles for rhetorical purposes.”

Rebecca’s eye twitched.

“Part two point five, why has nobody before figured out Dragon is an AI!?!?,” she recited, from memory, naturally. “With a bracketed subsection. We don’t count the Dragonslayers because they’re nutjobs. Part three: So I might get black-ops’d for this. Part three point five: Why has nobody before figured out the leader of the PRT is a parahuman? Part four: I absolutely will get black-ops’d for this.”

Rebecca paused, and glowered at Fortuna.

“Why was he even allowed to upload the video?” she asked. “Now that he’s uploaded it, then to… black-ops him is just going to make it obvious he was right.”

“Honestly I think it should be quite clear why by the time you reach the end of the video,” Fortuna replied, nodding at her screen, which showed that the pause bar was somewhere in the middle of section seven. “Though there may have been a flaw in Path To A Really Good Online Video.”

“You don’t say,” Rebecca muttered. “Didn’t it only come out half an hour ago?”

“Path to the Most Immediately Relevant Bits,” Fortuna answered, reasonably enough.

“You do realize he’s exposed us, though?” Rebecca went on. ���Not just me, us. At least, I assume that’s why part five is called It’s a melting pot of every conspiracy, get it?”

Fortuna smiled, mysteriously.

“Stop it,” Rebecca grumbled. “And no, I’m not angry about part six, even though it’s called The Illuminati are really bad at conspiracies. Or part eight which is begging us to hire an eight year old as an advisor.”

“Part seven is actually the most relevant bit, for us,” Fortuna said. “So far he’s outlined three solutions to Scion which would be better than any plans we had before.”

Rebecca blinked.

“...are you sure?” she asked.

“That’s why part seven is called Apocalypse Soon,” Fortuna pointed out. “You should watch the video.”

“It’s five hours long,” Rebecca protested.

“Yes, which is why it’s fortunate that you’re going to have a lot of free time soon,” Fortuna replied.

[meta-squash]

the most frustrating stage of fic writing is when you have an idea but the idea is 95% vibes rather than actual plot

[fishareglorious]

my favorite scene of last evenings on earth is when miss grace said "this was truly our last evening on earth" and lasted her evenings on earth everywhere in the free breeze

[butterboy69420]

This is my new phone wallpaper. Based off the Bleach TYBW manga volume covers because that has become my new aesthetic.

...honestly, if I make enough of these, I could probably hint at lore for my silly goobers.

Part 2.5 has a new name now finally, I think I dig the title Unseen Monsters or something along those lines. So that will be the tag I use for the time being.

[kitsune-kaos]

As a verse bottom who tops infrequently, I’m proud to say I had did some lovely flip fucking the past two days 😌✨ Got that verse card renewed for another year

[electric-plants]

🤡🤡🤡

[xoxogeorgiegirl]

45 for franky/alex :))

45 - realisation of feelings at the worst possible moment | just a little taste of wasting time on ao3 | 1.9k

Franky is the first to check her phone and see the message from Valentina in the group chat to say that Alex will be staying in their hotel suite tonight, and could they please try and make her feel welcome. It’s oddly cheerful in tone, but then Vale usually is while they’re on these holidays, too relaxed to even bother lying to them properly. She’s about to say something, words eager to trip off of her tongue, and then decides to wait for Pecco to disentangle her arm from around Bez's shoulder and check her phone. There's a general outcry about it; expressions ranging from Bez's scrunched up, baffled face to Pecco's mildly disgusted frown. Franky stays silent, tapping her fingers against her phone under the coffee table while they chat, and ignoring the way that Luca, beside her, is trying to squint at the message she's sending. "I'm going to kill her," says Pecco darkly, not at all scary. She will, Franky thinks, be refusing to use the groupchat with Valentina in it for the next few days, defaulting to the Academy chat that they're still pointlessly denying the existence of to Vale. "Marc is making how much off that Ducati contract, and neither of them will pay for another hotel room?" She shudders and falls silent. Luca switches her attention to her, eyes turning teasing, and Franky is grateful for the reprieve as she clicks at the spot where the send button should be and considers whether it’s too risky to turn her phone brightness up.

Sorry, change of plans, Alex has texted her. It’s from before Valentina said anything, and abruptly Franky wonders whether she was going to cancel and if Marc had said anything. She looks up to see Luca’s eyes on her again, thoughtful, and turns her phone off, dropping it face down on the table with a click.

“Yes, well. We should go soon. Don’t want to keep her waiting,” Pecco says suddenly, and doesn’t move. Across the table, Cele casts an uncertain glance at her, halfway to standing up before she seems to register that she’s not ready to leave yet. Bez tugs Cele towards her, pulling her arm across with a laugh. The conversation washes over Franky, suddenly, inexplicably nervous, until Luca stands up decisively, pulling the keys to the rental car out of her pocket. When Pecco opens the door to the hotel room, Alex is sitting on the couch, knees together and arms folded, a duffel bag with clothes haphazardly sticking out of it still slung over her shoulder. She looks up when they enter, smiling at Franky, albeit somewhat tensely.

“Alex,” Pecco greets with a nod. For a moment Franky thinks she’s going to hold out her hand for Alex to shake. “I hope we didn’t leave you alone too long?”

“I’ve been surviving,” says Alex, and shrugs, skittish.

Pecco nods at her again. “Vale’s stuff is still in her room,” she says, “so-”

“That’s fine,” Alex interrupts. “The couch is fine.”

Luca laughs, and ignores Franky’s warning glare. “You can share with Franky,” she offers. “She’s got a double bed, you’ll be more comfortable than on the couch.”

“Right,” Alex says, and glances at Franky. She smiles again. “Mind showing me around, then?”

When they wander out of the room together, her hand drifts towards Franky’s arm. Behind them, someone snickers.

"Of course I've thought about just getting my own room," Alex says grumpily, as soon as the bedroom door swings closed behind them. "Marc's still trying to pretend like she's not planning these holidays so she can run into Valentina halfway through, and that involves playing happy families with hotel rooms." "Then book another one to use after Valentina inevitably steals your side of the room?" Franky asks innocently. She pulls Alex onto the bed behind her and they settle into place, heads bent close together to the centreline of the mattress like they’re sharing secrets at a slumber party. "Please, she ambushed me," Alex squawks, indignantly pushing up onto her elbows. "Escorted me here, even. One hundred percent chance Marc asked her about-" She cuts off, and Franky blinks up at her. Alex is blush prone at the best of times and it's showing now, a flush spreading up over her cheekbones while she avoids looking at anything in particular; it's a nearly impossible task given that over the course of her movement she’s ended up leaning nearly directly over Franky, but she’s giving it her best shot, eyes wide and lips curving up. "Alex," Pecco calls, poking her head into the room. Franky tries her best not to audibly groan. "Sorry, we're figuring out dinner, and we don't know what you'd like." "Anything," Alex says, a little wildly. She hasn't even twisted her head to look at the doorway where Pecco has been hovering, checking in on them while she switches between her usual dislike of Alex and what she feels is her duty, blatant neutrality followed by guilty fussiness; Valentina, Franky thinks, has a lot to answer for. There's a third aspect to it tonight, because Luca likes to think she's good at reading people, and now everyone else thinks they know something about Franky and Alex. To be fair to her, Franky isn't sure Luca's been wrong yet. She's trying very hard not to think about it, at least not while Alex is lying on the bed next to her, warm and still halfway to laughing. "Oh, alright," Pecco is saying, slipping out of hostess mode and back into relieved neutrality. Franky blames Valentina and by extension Marc, somewhat, for making this into a big deal and also for ruining her plans for the evening. “What type of pizza do you want?”

“Ham and cheese, please. With pineapple,” says Alex, without hesitating or smiling.

“So. A Hawaiian?” Pecco asks, tentatively. Alex shakes her head sombrely and Pecco frowns, nods, and promptly shuts the door.

It’s hard not to grin, at the obvious bait and at the way  lets herself fall back down on the bed again to laugh as soon as the door clicks shut. The sun is beginning to go down now, the last dregs of light filtering in through the open window along with the warm air. When she twists to lie on her back, hands pressing over her stomach and legs stretched out long in the jeans, Alex’s hair is pulling out of its ponytail, longer strands falling down to frame her face. She twists them back, exaggeratedly aggressive, and Franky laughs.

“Up,” Franky says, grabbing her hand and pulling her backwards, towards her, letting her twist halfway onto Franky’s lap. Gently, she uncurls the twisted hair tie and combs her fingers through Alex’s hair through, gentle, and begins to braid it.

“You’re better at this than Marc,” says Alex, too restless even when she’s trying to keep still, and Franky has to let her hands go with the movement to avoid yanking at the strands. “She’s, eh. Impatient.”

“Like you,” mutters Franky, affectionate, and even though she can’t see Alex’s face she can feel the grin in the lift of her shoulders and the arch of her neck, loose and easy. “Easier than curly hair, anyway. Tangles less than I’m used to, as long as you stay still.”

“Why I love you, of course. Easier for you to do my hair than to learn myself, eh,” Alex says halfway through laughing, light and absent-minded, and maybe it would have been fine if both of them didn’t go tense at the words, Alex’s voice cutting out. As it is, she pulls back, her half-done braid slipping out of Franky’s suddenly numb hands as she climbs off the bed, movement awkward across the tangled quilt.

“I should go,” she says, and doesn’t look back in time to see Franky open her mouth. She closes it again uselessly as her body continues to catch up faster than her thoughts, pushing up off the bed and moving towards Alex, too slowly.

“You can’t go,” she says. The worlds fall, too blunt, and she wishes Alex would look at her if only to see the way that she’s wincing. “Marc has the room-”

“I’ll find a place,” Alex mutters stiffly, hand twisting on the doorknob and finally, decisively, pulling the door open.

Instead of disappearing down the hallway, though, she takes a step back, and Franky cranes her neck to see past.

“Oh, good, you’re ready,” Pecco says, too brightly, hand still tentatively raised to knock. “Pizza’s been delivered.”

Neither of them react, and she frowns, adds, “We thought we’d eat outside. Luca dragged the table onto the balcony, since – it’s such a nice night.”

Finally, Alex brushes past her, denim of her jeans swishing ridiculously loudly in the sudden silence that follows her to the balcony. When Pecco raises an eyebrow, Franky can only shrug, swallow the acrid taste lingering at the back of her throat, and mutely follow.

Franky sits down next to Luca, and Alex drags her own chair to the very opposite side of the bench. Beside her, Bez startles and shuffles her chair a little closer to Cele; they were already, Franky realises, sitting so close that the gap to Alex now seems comical, a scene from one of the old, long-table press conferences that you could look at and tell immediately who everyone’s friends were. Alex, with her hair loose and slowly tumbling out of its braid, suddenly seems very vulnerable, like on one of the rare nights she falls asleep before Franky.

Alex’s detachment seems to stymie the conversation somewhat, and Franky wonders belatedly whether Pecco was relying on her to keep the presence of a relative unknown from being awkward.

“How did you find the beach, Celin,” she offers dutifully, and Cele looks up from where she’s been fixing her gaze on the untouched slice of pizza in front of her.

“Ah, it was… fine,” Cele says finally. “Good. Hot.” She glances to her left, reddens slightly, and looks away again; Franky frowns, realises that the general oddness is directed at Bez, not Alex, and loses interest.

“Alex,” she says abruptly, too loudly. Someone that she didn’t realise was speaking has stopped mid-sentence, “Can we talk?” “I wouldn’t want to interrupt dinner,” says Alex, and glances at Pecco, as though expecting her to agree. She doesn’t react, though, and so Franky pushes her chair back and heads inside, looking back over her shoulder for Alex to reluctantly follow. She leaves the balcony door open, sounds of conversation filtering through until Franky doubles back and closes it. Bez is peering back at them through the gap in the glass, and she pointedly avoids meeting her eye.

“I’m sorry,” Alex says, not sounding particularly sincere. She’s staring at the wall, arms folded. “If I’ve made things weird, then we can go on a break, although I refuse to sleep on the couch-”

“Alex, just because Marc and Vale are, eh, complicated-” Franky says, interrupting, and hoping that Valentina will forgive her. “It doesn’t mean that we have to be. And, hey. Maybe I love you even though you’re trying to make my friends believe that your pizza order is anything different to Hawaiian.”

“I swear it’s an entirely different type of pizza,” she says, mock offended, but she’s laughing now, relaxing and allowing herself to be pulled into a hug.

The balcony door pulls open behind them. Bez looks at them, wide-eyed and tugging Cele by the hand, and guiltily says, “Don’t mind me.”

[the-blossica-fan]

...Hear me out--

[maryse127]

Free Trial really said you can have Aymeric fussing over your collapsed Warrior of Light during the last MSQ. As a treat.

[trashy-greyjoy]

different fonts™

[greenleaf4stuff]

Of Convenience – Epilogue (Part 11.2)

(all previous parts of "Of Convenience")

Adar x Celebrimbor (silverscars) political marriage AU, 11th snippet / epilogue, part 2. Adar and Celebrimbor consummate their marriage, aka, make love to one another.

Here be smut! This is at least M rated people. Please mind the rating!

This is it, the Good Stuff(TM)! Again, this is smut, but there is also a lot of fluff and sappiness mixed in here. It's also the final bit for the 'main story' of this AU – though, who knows, maybe I’ll pick it up again for some interludes or some glimpses into everyday married life for those two in the future, though likely at a much slower pace than this one. Thank you, again, to everyone who has joined me on this journey. I appreciate all of you and your support means the world to me. (And also, hopefully, I’ll see you guys in the notes for any future fics of those two I might write. Because I still have a couple ideas and WIPs to work on.) Enjoy, and once again, Thank You! <3 <3 <3

Once they had separated again, Adar appeared much more confident. He used only his right hand as he reached down, grabbed the hem of his tunic, and then began to pull it over his head.

As his long hair began to tangle in the garment, Celebrimbor reached forward and helped him out of it. Like his own tunic and Adar’s armor, they let it drop to the ground, forgotten.

The uruk’s chest was littered with scars as well; burn marks and the remains of old wounds that the elf could not identify. Perhaps, Adar would be willing to tell him about each of them one day.

"You are beautiful," escaped the smith without his permission, but he couldn’t regret the words. Even as Adar stared incredulously at him. "I mean it. I look at you and see beauty."

Celebrimbor wanted to make himself clear. "Maybe not in the typical elven way, but I can see you have survived great strain and terrible hardship. I do not mind the scars. They are a part of you, and I love you."

He knew he was being awfully emotional about all this, but- he had to speak these words. He didn’t want to leave any doubt about what he felt for the other, or how he saw him.

The uruk closed his arms around the elf and brought the two of them together in another embrace. He kissed Celebrimbor’s temple, his cheek, his jaw, and then whispered against his lips. "It has been a very long time since I have been called ‘beautiful‘. And even longer, still, since I believed it. But I believe you."

A pause, a breath. "How have I gotten so lucky? The most decent, the most kindhearted of all elves, and I get to call you my own. You, the one who was willing to see me and my children as more than just Morgoth’s creations."

"You are more than Morgoth’s creation," Celebrimbor said with conviction. "And if you have gotten lucky, so have I."

He dared Adar to disagree with his words by frowning just the slightest bit, until the uruk laughed and pulled him close again. They kissed once more. As Adar let his hands roam, so did Celebrimbor.

Adar’s body certainly was not like an elf’s, but this was not a detriment in the smith’s opinion. He enjoyed letting his hands move over the scars, felt shapes beneath his fingertips whose textures felt new and unique and exciting to him.

Likewise, his husband seemed unable to let his own hands rest either; they moved over the expanse of Celebrimbor’s back and between his shoulder blades, to his arms, up to his neck and then down to his pecs, which the uruk squeezed. The elf gasped into their kiss as a result, and when Adar made to draw back, he caught the uruk's fingers to press them onto his chest again and moaned into the other’s mouth at the resulting pressure.

They soon shed the rest of their clothing, stepping out of their shoes and boots as well as their breeches. Adar’s mouth wandered from Celebrimbor’s mouth to his jaw, his ear, and then his neck.

He was soft with his kisses, mindful of the bruising, until the elf drew his head closer with his hand and groaned as the other sucked his own bruise into the hollow of his throat. 

Celebrimbor didn’t care in the least whether or not someone else would see it, come morning.

Moving against one another sent sparks through the elf’s body now that they were completely bare, and he felt heat rise up his body when he felt how aroused Adar was already.

The uruk grabbed his behind and drew them against each other fully. Both groaned at the contact.

"Celebrimbor-" Adar began. He already sounded breathless.

"Tyelpe," the smith replied, quickly, before Adar could finish his sentence. At the other’s questioning look, Celebrimbor drew him forward and kissed him, before he repeated. "Call me Tyelpe. It’s short for-"

"Telperinquar," Adar finished. He sounded reverent as he said it. Celebrimbor felt himself shiver at the sound of his name on Adar’s tongue. He nodded to confirm it.

"...Tyelpe," Adar repeated the name as if tasting it. In turn, Celebrimbor moved forward as if to lick it out of his mouth. The kiss left them both breathless and flushed.

"...let us move over to your bed," the uruk suggested, quietly, and the elf let himself be walked over without hesitation. Instead, he tried to catch Adar’s lips again. It was like he had gotten addicted to them – their warmth, their softness, the pressure. He couldn’t stop seeking them out.

The uruk was careful as he helped his husband lay down and then moved on top of him. He caught Celebrimbor’s eye as he kept himself suspended above the elf, and only laid down when Celebrimbor stretched out his arms and beckoned him to do so.

Soon, they were moving against one other, rubbing skin against skin as they kissed, hands restless on each other’s bodies.

"What do you want to do?" Adar asked, once they managed to break their kiss for a moment. A fine strand of spit hung between their mouths and neither of them was willing to move far away from the other.

"Whatever you want to do," Celebrimbor replied. To make himself perfectly clear, he untangled his legs from Adar’s and loosely wrapped them around the uruk’s hips, who groaned deeply and thrust down against the elf in response. "If you’d let me, I’d want all of you."

His hips moved up into Adar’s thrusts all of their own. Both of them moaned at the feeling of them sliding against one another.

They could barely control themselves, and Adar eventually had to use his hand to grab Celebrimbor’s hip and pin it to the bed – though gently – so they would not finish too soon.

"Do you have any oil?" He sounded hopeful, even if he looked a bit skeptical.

His expression changed to one of surprise when Celebrimbor reached across and over the side of the bed, only to produce a small bottle, which he pressed into Adar’s hand. The smith felt rather proud of himself in that moment.

The uruk raised his eyebrows. "Do you always happen to have some spare oil nearby, or…" He suddenly narrowed his eyes, though it was clearly playful. "Did you hope this would happen?"

The elf grew just the slightest bit sheepish and fluttered his eyelashes at the uruk. "What can I say? If the the last two days have taught me anything, it is to always be prepared – and not let anything go to waste by holding back."

Adar looked at Celebrimbor with wide eyes for a moment, and then he smirked and shook his head, before he gave his husband another peck on the lips. "My dear, you are full of surprises. I hadn’t expected that you’d be quite so bold in this."

A pause. "I think I like it."

The uruk was careful as he prepared his husband; he took the time to warm the oil, helped Celebrimbor place a pillow underneath his hips and placed one of the smith’s legs over his shoulder. Before he touched the elf, he kissed the side of his knee and leant over him to have a good look at his face.

"Are you still certain?"

The smith smiled brightly at the question, and nodded. "Yes," he took a shuddering breath. "A bit nervous though, I’ll admit. I haven’t done this in a long time."

The uruk leant down to press his lips to Celebrimbor’s forehead, then kissed him deeply. "Me neither. I promise I’ll go slow."

The elf nodded, and held onto the side of the uruk’s face and his upper arm. "I know."

And indeed, Adar took his time. Not only did he stretch his husband, but he also stroked him as he knelt before the elf, twin sensations that kept Celebrimbor relaxed and in a state of near perpetual pleasure.

The elf languished in his position and how it allowed him to watch his husband while the other worked. There was a look of concentration on Adar’s face while he alternated between focusing on his tasks and Celebrimbor’s face, as if to make sure the other was truly enjoying this.

Celebrimbor smiled and made no attempt to hide his reactions; he looked at Adar with hooded eyelids and his mouth half-open, spilling sighs and gasps whenever the other touched him in a particularly pleasant way.

He could tell the uruk was slowly but surely becoming more impatient, though he was good at hiding it. He hadn’t once touched himself, so Celebrimbor stretched out a hand and tried to motion the other to come closer, "Let me do something for you, too."

Adar smiled gently, and used one hand to stroke the space between Celebrimbor’s leg and his lower stomach for a bit. "You don’t have to do anything but lie back. I’ll take care of you tonight."

"Next time, then," the elf insisted cheekily, and then moaned and arched his back when Adar found that sensitive spot inside him.

Whether Celebrimbor’s reaction had been the final straw to entice his husband, or whether he simply deemed him ready, the elf would never know, but Adar soon finished his preparations and began to arrange the elf’s body to his liking.

Legs wrapped high around Adar’s upper body, ankles crossed at the back, the elf let his lower body be hoisted up by an arm around his hip while Adar reached down to line himself up to Celebrimbor’s entrance.

The elf cupped his husband’s cheeks once more, stroking gentle fingers along the scars there. Their faces were so very close. Adar’s eyes were almost black with how dilated his pupils were by that point. He was a sight to behold, with sweat beading on his forehead and strands of his hair stuck to his skin.

And yet, his expression remained so gentle, so attentive.

"May I?" the uruk asked. Celebrimbor nodded, not quite sure if he’d be able to manage any words.

They both sighed and pressed close when Adar began to sink into Celebrimbor’s body. This was not just warmth, but heat that spread through him now.

There was no pain, only a stretch that felt wonderfully intimate, and Adar who seemed to fight his own pleasure to keep his eyes on Celebrimbor, to make sure he was alright.

Trembling with how good he felt, the smith let himself spill whatever words came to him. "You feel wonderful," he said. It was true. "You’re being so gentle with me, so careful, nobody has touched me with such reverence."

"I wish you could see yourself right now. I could look upon you all day. Want to-" his breath hitched and he moaned once more as Adar finally sank in to the hilt and crowded close, rubbing their noses against each other as the uruk tried to catch his breath. "Want to sketch you like this, so you can see how radiant you are-"

With a loud groan, the uruk brought their lips together. The kiss was deeper, more urgent now, it almost felt as if he wanted to drink Celebrimbor down. He wrapped his hands around the elf’s shoulders and behind is head.

They both were breathless when they broke apart.

"Can I-?"

"Yes, please, move-" Adar laughed, very softly, at Celebrimbor’s eagerness, and pecked his lips before he began to follow his husband’s request.

The friction felt downright otherworldly, and the pleasure was only heightened because the elf got to experience his husband’s as well. They moved with each other and quickly found a rhythm that worked for them as they slowly built up the pace.

Still, Adar seemed to hold back. "I’m alright, I feel good- you can let go. I want you to. Please," the elf coaxed the other. It was clear the uruk was enjoying this, with the way every other breath turned into a deep groan and how he couldn’t quite keep his eyes open.

Adar needed a moment to find his words, and moaned when he found a good angle on his next thrust before he answered. "I’m- quite strong-"

"I know," Celebrimbor remembered Adar’s battle prowess. He curled himself up and brought their foreheads together as he clenched down onto the uruk. "I want to feel it. I don’t care about bruising – you won’t hurt me. I know you won’t. I trust you."

This time, it didn’t take long to convince the other, and the smith soon held onto Adar with all his limbs and pressed his face into his neck as his voice rose in pleasure.

Adar hadn’t lied when he said he was strong; the way he snapped his hips down now was intense, but good. He managed to hit every single sensitive spot Celebrimbor had and still, nothing he did hurt, there was only pressure, and bliss.

"It’s good, it’s so good-" the elf reassured the other, encouraged him. "Please, don’t stop-"

They both were reaching for their completion now, desperate in how they scrambled against one another. Celebrimbor smeared spit onto Adar’s cheek as he attempted to speak, could feel the groans – no, growls – the uruk let out against the junction of his neck and shoulder, the way he mouthed at the skin.

"I’m close-" Adar warned through clenched teeth, before he brought his and Celebrimbor’s eyes into alignment again, both their hands around one another’s shoulders and on their cheeks now. "You feel so good, I’m so close-"

"I am too," Celebrimbor replied, breathless, eager, near overcome. "Please, you can-"

"Come for me," Adar asked him instead, and the elf was powerless to do anything but comply with a long moan of Adar’s name. Judging by the way Adar thrust down with all his strength and then shouted, loudly, he was quick to follow.

They were both shaking as pleasure washed over them, their hands slipped on sweat-covered skin, but then renewed their grip and held onto one another.

Celebrimbor couldn’t speak for himself, but Adar was quite the sight. His face was completely open now, and there was no strain, only the euphoria of release and underneath, the love he held for his husband, clear as day.

What a gift, the elf thought, that he got to see the other so unguarded and so content. Would get to see him like this, again and again.

The two husbands collapsed onto the bed in the aftermath. Adar was pressing Celebrimbor into the bed with his own weight, whereas the elf cushioned the uruk’s body with his own. Their grip on one another loosened as they caught their breath, but they did not fully let each other go.

Celebrimbor continued to rest his legs over his husband’s back and stroked fingers up and down between his shoulder blades. When Adar shivered and grew restless at the light touches, the elf moved his fingers into Adar’s hair instead, slowly carding through the soft strands and scratching his scalp.

Adar, too, seemed unwilling to move. His head was tucked under Celebrimbor’s chin where his breath fanned out over the elf’s collarbones. His right hand stroked a thumb up and down Celebrimbor’s hip, whereas his left one – the one usually in his gauntlet – sought of Celebrimbor’s free hand and linked their fingers together.

It was the elf who brought their hands to his lips for another kiss. Adar sighed in response, and rubbed in nose into Celebrimbor’s skin when the elf kissed the top of his head next.

They should probably move and get cleaned up, sooner or later, but for now, Celebrimbor just wanted to enjoy this moment.

He smiled, happy and exhausted, when Adar lifted his head. The uruk, too, looked like he’d soon fall asleep. Which was probably a good thing – both of them still needed to recover from the previous weeks.

As Celebrimbor stroked the back of his hand across Adar’s cheek, the other smiled back at him.

"I love you, Tyelpe," he said. Celebrimbor hadn’t ever seen him look more at ease, more happy, than in this moment.

His own resulting smile felt so wide the elf wasn’t sure how it could still fit his own face.

"I love you too, Adar. My husband."

The uruk reached over and brought their lips together once again. "Indeed. My husband."

[tearitar]

this might be petty but 4 of my coworkers pissed me off so bad last week (each individually pissing me off) I put them in a room together, knowing they all hate each other.