#I’m a complainer by trade it’s my occupation but I promise this is the last post of this kind for at least this season dkdkdk

[skys-haunted]

ooo being a solo sky player feels so cool like im the lone wolf a vagabond an untethered traveler passing by im nobody and ive been everywhere... until tgc asks me to do a shred of effort and then im face first in the dirt sobbing into the grass bc im too shy to find friends for help

[terzos-edibles]

Silver Linings

1. Gotta Keep On, Keepin' On

Summary: No kid, no tribe, and avoiding his responsibilities, Din Djarin has gone back to bounty hunting and mercenary work under the watchful eye of Boba Fett. After a job on Ibaar goes very wrong in more ways than Din would like to count, he is forced to flee with a very peculiar New Republic doctor. He is determined to get enough credits and fuel to drop the doctor off on her home planet and be done with it. But will he be able to part ways with her after she finds all the right and wrong ways to push his buttons?

Words: 1.8k

Rated Mature: language, canonical violence, depression, mentions of suicidal behavior.

“I don't know if I'm scared of dying But I'm scared of living too fast, too slow Regret, remorse, hold on, oh no I've got to go There’s no starting over No new beginnings time races on.” - My Silver Lining, First Aid Kit

Ibaar-

The fist of the Empire reached far, sweeping across the farthest reaches of the Galaxy; the deepest corners seemed to have felt its influences. Even the smallest, poorest planets had Stormtroopers deployed to them - a formality to further oppress the planets’ occupants and show their might - and dissuade any sort of rebellion from sparking. The destruction of the second Death Star and subsequent death of Emperor Palpatine at the hands of the Rebellion had shown that plan hadn’t, well, panned out. Still, in the five years or so after the fall of the Empire, the New Republic was just now starting to finally make its way into the Outer Rim Territories after ensuring that the more strategically essential planets were well taken care of. Remnants of the Empire still clung to those planets, holding out hope that the Empire would somehow revive itself and their loyalty would be rewarded. Many felt that the New Republic had abandoned them, that things hadn’t gotten any better since the Empire had fallen. It would be the same as it had always been. The Outer Rim would continue to be forgotten, continued to be terrorized by Remnant Stormtroopers, continued to be terrorized by pirates, and continued to be terrorized by gangsters. People had given up hope once again.

But, aid was coming. Slowly, but it was coming. New Republic troops were starting to make their way back out towards planets that needed them, bringing with them much-needed supplies and rations. Marshals were installed in the major cities and villages to help keep the peace and bring a sense of law to an otherwise lawless territory. Medical teams were dispatched to provide much-needed tautology assistance to planets that were unable to get the care they needed.

Doctor Gertrude Ásketill was the first in line to sign up for those peace operations. She was coming hot off of her time as a rebel medic. She was bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and full of hope as they deployed her to the first assignment. She had an entire team - plenty of assistants and droids to ensure that everyone got the proper care they needed. They were able to start a proper clinic, train the locals, and establish a line to the core planets to ensure they could get all the medicine and vaccines they would need. Trudy felt good when she left that planet for the second.

The second planet saw fewer supplies and resources. She thought maybe it might have been a mistake. This planet had a bigger population than the last. Perhaps they didn't realize they needed to send more supplies, but then the third and fourth planets came. Supplies and resources were stripped as funding got cut, and slowly her team was redistributed to other projects.

And that left Trudy on the fifth planet - Ibaar.

It was just her and a few other doctors spread across the Outer Rim that was left of the program. She was sure that they would be recalled back to Chandrila - the capital of the Republic, but that had been almost a year ago. She had been on Ibaar for about as long. She was alone; at least, it felt that way. The only other two in her clinic with her was an older model R4-7 droid named A9-C that had been reprogrammed to help in the medical field. The humanoid-shaped, bug-eyed droid was built in the early days of the Empire and complained more than he assisted. The other was a teenager named Max, who had taken an interest in medicine. Whether it was because he liked Trudy or wanted to become a medic was to be answered. He was a good assistant and listened.

The only other Republic representative on Ibaar with Trudy was the Marshal: Baxley Morgan. How that man ever got the job of Republic Marshal was beyond her. It was probably why he ended up out here. He had a good heart, but the boy was dumb as a brick, and while she was no fighter - she could at least shoot a blaster well enough to hit whatever she was pointing at. It might not have been where she wanted it to go, but at least it’d hit its target.

The Empire had put blockades up to punish the Ibaarians for being sympathetic to the rebel cause. The aid that had been promised to the Ibaarians had finally come, and it was a little lackluster. The locals were friendly enough, but they felt a little betrayed. Trudy couldn’t blame them.

Trudy had become jaded herself; things were back to the status quo. There weren’t any more Imperial blockades, but with the lack of resources and supplies coming in - there might as well have been.

Ibaar, all-in-all, wasn’t a bad planet. It was a mountainous, temperate planet. The capital village, and the one that Trudy was in, was nestled in a valley - built into the side of the mountain while the rest of the land in the valley was used for farming. The natural cliffs that reached their stony fingertips to the sky provided a natural defense for the village, and the hundreds of waterfalls that cascaded down their sides gave the village and farms much-needed water. On a clear day, you could see for miles around. Though for all of Ibaar’s beauty, the weather was the worst. They could be lucky to see the sun one, maybe twice, per month. The rest of the month was plagued with overcast clouds, fog, daily rain, and nightly thunderstorms. It took some getting used to, and Trudy had ordered extra vitamins to help with the lack of sun.

Despite being the capital village of Ibaar, Laakso Village didn’t even have its own docking bay within the village’s boundaries, especially - making already scarce supplies harder to get. Luckily speeders made that journey a bit less complicated, though it was still rough going. A local warlord and his gang - a former Imperial commander and his troopers - had taken it upon themselves to decide that the Ibaarian Mountains were a great place to hide and run their smuggling business out of, using the old rebel tunnels from the war.

It made things dangerous.

Unsuspecting travelers going to and from the port or any of the other smaller villages in the mountains would be ambushed. Those lucky to survive had their property stolen. The bandits would look for anything from blasters, food, credits, various forms of technology they could get their hands on, and medical supplies. Trudy didn’t know how many villagers and travelers she had patched up in her time there, injured by ambushes. While the gang kept the locals terrified, they still hadn’t been bold enough to make their way into Laasko Village, choosing instead to raid the smaller outer villages - ones not protected by a marshal.

Baxley was having a hell of a time dealing with it himself and had brought up hiring some extra help. Trudy had nipped that in the bud; hiding behind hired mercenaries wasn’t going to do anyone any good - that he really needed to call in support from the Republic. The conversation tapered off after that, and the emergency seemed to have died down. However, as it always did, there was no downtime. The newest crisis cropped up - the report of the flu on a neighboring planet in the same system. A planet Ibaar happened to trade with. Which meant Trudy had to work to get vaccines to Ibaar before everyone was sick. She had ordered them about a month ago. Thank the stars someone was on her side, and the vaccines only took a month to get to her. Someone had made the shipment hastily, and they were currently waiting for someone to pick them up. Trudy couldn’t pull her boots on fast enough when the docking attendant called her to report they had been dropped off. Within fifteen minutes, she was in a speeder with a blaster and Max in the passenger seat. They would get there by nightfall - if they were lucky. Trudy just hoped to the stars above that nothing happened on their way.

----

It seemed as though Trudy’s silent prayers were answered. She pulled the speeder around to the docking bay and left it idling as Max hopped out of it, striding up to the attendant’s office and rapping his knuckles on the glass. He had grown like a sprout since Trudy had been there, now easily towering over her - though that wasn’t exactly hard to do. Brownish red shaggy hair constantly fell into his eyes, much to his mother’s dismay, and he was a lot less intimidating than he liked to think he was, especially with those freckles. Trudy waited as they exchanged words, waving a hand as the attendant poked his head out of his office and motioned to where the vaccines were - clearly annoyed he had been interrupted from his dinner and whatever wrestling match was on the holo. Trudy moved towards the vaccines, scanning them in with the datapad she pulled from her pack and happy to see that they didn’t have to quite rush back with them. Their cooling system had enough charge to allow them to rest a little bit - though they would still have to make the trip back by night. Max helped her load the crates into the back of the speeder and went out front to buy them both some roasted tip-yip and drinks from the food cart out front. Trudy turned around, eyeing the gunship docked in the bay the vaccines had been stored in. Annoyance twisted in her stomach that the valuable vaccines were stored where some random visitor to the planet could just poke through them. Though, the presence of the gunship made her raise an eyebrow. Not many ships like this made their way out here; either the owner was here for a quick refuel, or they were up to something no good. She scowled at it as Max returned with the tip-yip on a stick and a couple of cool bottles of water. “We didn’t get harassed today,” Max observed as he sat down on the roof of the speeder, and Trudy took a seat inside. “You think somethin’ is goin’ on?”

She nibbled at the meat on the stick and offered a shrug, turning to look back at the gunship. “Who knows. I just hope they keep whatever they’ve got going on out of the village. I want to sleep peacefully when we get back.”

You know the phrase famous last words? Those were Trudy’s.

--- Miles away, a Mandalorian clad in beskar armor was about to attempt to take down a stronghold of bandits and remnant stormtroopers all on his own. Maybe Fennec Shand was right. Maybe he was suicidal. ** Chapter 2: But I Ain't Dead Yet Taglist: @novemberrain221, @blackdogdesignuk, @mistyfur5, @thepoisonofgod

[simwoman2002]

Safe

  Elsa was suffering a long day of a frightfully boring council meeting.

  All these gatherings ever consisted of was constant bickering amongst elderly men over various subjects that weren’t overly important. Elsa understood how decisions regarding the issues needed to be made, but she didn’t really understand why she couldn’t just sign something herself and resolve them. It would be much better that being forced to listen to a group of crochety old people argue.

  “Queen Elsa, what do you think?” Elsa immediately was snapped back into focus. She gazed albeit dazedly at all of the expectant faces staring at her.

  She had almost forgot what they had been talking about, but life wasn’t about to allow her the pleasure. The subject suddenly appeared in the forefront of her mind and she suppressed a groan of slight irritation.

  “We need to arrange stronger trade agreements with Corona so that our kingdom and its occupants may receive goods that will-” Elsa suddenly stopped midsentence. Something reddish-orange and suspiciously colored like her sister’s hair caught her gaze out on the roof. She angled her head a bit, looking out the window. To her horror, it was Anna.

  Her eyes widened as her baby sister suddenly slid down the roof at a high rate of speed. She stood up instantly with a force that would knock a chair of any less craftmanship over and rushed out the door.

  Elsa could hear the faint cries of the councilmen, but it barely registered in her mind. All she could think about was getting outside before Anna hit the ground.

  Elsa summoned ice beneath her feet and propelled herself through the corridors and down the stairs in a fashion and speed similar to that of a bullet. She zipped through the courtyard, reaching the area she estimated Anna to fall.

  Her heart stopped. Anna was not on the roof any longer. Elsa searched the ground, frantically glancing all about. Her efforts were fruitless. All that she saw nearby was a haystack, grass, and the stone of the courtyard.

  “ANNA!” Elsa yelled in desperation, feeling her heart sink to the pits of her stomach.

  She had lost her sister again and for the last time. Elsa would never see her sister’s sunny, loving face, she’d never hear her musical laugh…. Elsa would never see Anna again.

  Before Elsa could absorb herself too much in grief, she then heard a muffled voice. Elsa whipped her head around behind her to face the noise. Elsa strode a little closer to the source. Quite oddly, it seemed to be coming from the haystack.

  Elsa inched closer to look at it. She nearly screamed when a straw-covered head poked out of it.

  “Whoo, that was one heck of a ride. Man, gotta do that again sometime!” Anna exclaimed, giggling and glancing up at the roof as she tried to dust some of the hay off of her body.

  Elsa felt a rising joy suddenly burst in her chest and her face blossomed into a large grin.

  “Anna!” Elsa practically tackled Anna back into the haystack.

  “Elsa?!” Elsa nearly sobbed at hearing her sister’s sweet voice again.

  “I’m so glad you’re okay!” Elsa expressed, deeply inhaling the scent of her sister as well as the sweet aroma of hay that seemed to compliment her natural fragrance very well.

  “Wait, what? Okay, hang on a second.”

  “I was so, so worried about you, Sunshine!” Elsa sighed relievedly. She then pulled back out of the haystack, grabbing Anna’s hand and pulling her out.

  “Why are you-”

  “You jumped off a roof, Anna! Why shouldn’t I be worried about that?!” Elsa raised her voice a bit in her excitement, dusting Anna off emphatically. Anna’s previously confused face morphed into an expression of guilty sheepishness.

  “About that…”

  “Anna, sweetheart, you really need to be more careful. You could get hurt!” Elsa said grabbing Anna’s cheeks and inspecting her teeth closely.

  “Essa, you reawy don’t need to wowwy,” Anna insisted while Elsa had her fingers inside her mouth, ensuring the safety of every tooth.

  Elsa then took hold of the skin above and below Anna’s eye, sparked a bright blue light in her hand to shine it into Anna’s eye, and looked into the pupil.

  “Elsa.”

  “Hmm?” Elsa, now satisfied with the constrictions of Anna’s pupil, stopped observing her eyeball.

  “Elsa, I am perfectly fine,” Elsa, with a concerned expression, lovingly tucked a lock of hair behind Anna’s ear.

  “I know. But you could’ve been hurt. How often do you do things like this?”

  “Not that often?” Anna replied with a large toothy smile that Elsa always associated with a guilty Anna.

  “You seem uncertain about that,” Elsa observed, immediately picking up on Anna’s noncommittal tone.

  “No, I’m not,” Anna insisted, the grin still plastered on her face. Elsa looked at Anna with complete and utter anxiety. She normally would’ve found slight amusement at Anna’s attempts to deceive but concern was currently wholly overpowering Elsa. She watched Anna squirm under her intent gaze.

  “Fine. I’ve done it before, okay?” Anna admitted with a sigh. Elsa groaned and shook her head.

  “Anna…”

  “Look, it’s really okay! I mean, I’ll go up and show you again if you want me to-”

  “No. Please don’t…” After a moment of staring into the younger’s eyes, Elsa pulled Anna closely against her. “I don’t want to lose you.” She smiled, feeling some of her worry dissipate as Anna wrapped her arms around Elsa to reciprocate the embrace.

  “Okay, I won’t slide down the roof again. I promise,” Anna said somewhere nearby Elsa’s ear.

  “Good.”

  ………………………………………………………………………………………………………

     “Anna! What are you doing?!” It had been a few days since the roof episode and Elsa had hoped that would be the last of Anna’s insane attempts at acrobatics.

  Apparently, she was wrong. Very wrong.

  “Oh, Elsa! Hey! Do you want to ride around the halls with me?” Anna asked, sitting on the bicycle, about to push off.

  “Anna, you need a helmet,” Elsa insisted, grabbing Anna’s arm and pulling her off the bike to go to her room.

  “Elsa, good grief, I’m just riding my bike around the halls. I’ll be fine! We used to do this all the time.”

  “I would prefer that you wear a helmet,” Elsa expressed, keeping a tight hold on her sister’s upper limb.

  “Fine,” Anna grumbled a bit as she was dragged along behind her sister.

  Elsa couldn’t understand why Anna wouldn’t take care of herself any better. Didn’t she know that Elsa couldn’t live without her and couldn’t bear for anything to happen to her. Even if it was a small bump or bruise.

  “Why in the world are you such a daredevil?” Elsa questioned as they entered Anna’s room that was thankfully not too far from their previous position in the halls.

  “Why are you such a spoilsport?” Anna mumbled. Elsa released a huff of air in slight exasperation.

  “Anna, I just want you to be safe,” Elsa said, snatching the helmet from its haphazard position on the floor. She turned and gently sat it on Anna’s head, buckling it underneath the latter’s chin.

  “I know, but I’m a big tough girl. I’m not going to get hurt,” Anna persisted, trying to convince Elsa of her outlook.

 Elsa kissed Anna’s forehead, and pulled back to look in her eyes.

  “Accidents happen, Anna,” Elsa said, unintentionally allowing more gravity in her voice. The memory of a very unfortunate accident dredged itself to the forefront of her mind. Elsa felt a reverberation of sorrow ring through her frame, leaving a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  She was drawn from the painfulness of the memory by a warm hand on her pale, bare shoulder. Elsa looked at the owner of the said appendage with an expression of despair.

  “Don’t worry, Elsa. If you need me to wear a helmet, I will,” Anna reassured, and Elsa felt a wash of relief flood her.

  “And if you don’t mind, could you please wear kneepads and elbow pads?” Anna huffed a bit in response but reluctantly agreed.

  Elsa smiled happily and easily procured gear for Anna made of strong ice and soft padding made of snow.

  After looking over Anna’s form and considering Anna’s ensemble, Elsa took the liberty of adding a few unmentioned- and likely unwelcomed- additions.

  When she was done, Anna resembled a giant snowman. She was padded with snow and ice from her head to her toes.

  “Elsa, don’t you think this is a bit much?” Anna questioned, her voice muffled by the extensive amount of cushiony winter precipitation surrounding her face.

  “Go try your bike now,” Elsa said, completely disregarding Anna’s inquiry in her satisfaction in Anna’s certain safety.

  Anna waddled over to the bicycle and tried to hoist her leg over it. After the first fail, she looked over at Elsa, completely unimpressed. Elsa simply gave her two encouraging thumbs-ups and motioned for her to try again.

  Anna tried once again, and yet another failure occurred.

  “This is ridiculous, Elsa,” Anna complained indignantly.

  “Just try one more time,” Elsa implored, smiling cheerfully.

  Anna rolled her eyes but attempted it once again. This time, however, she was able to squeeze herself up on the bicycle.

  “Yay!” Elsa grinned widely and clapped her hands. She quickly made her way over to Anna and hugged her. “Good job!” Elsa congratulated Anna. She kissed her little sister on the nose, the only place on her face that Elsa could reach.

  Yes, Elsa wouldn’t let her sister be harmed. Not while she was around.

  ………………………………………………………………………………………………………

     Elsa eyed the bedroom with her lips pursed. The whole place looked like a tornado went through it. Perhaps a redheaded tornado.

  Elsa’s impromptu visit to Anna’s room was inspired by her earlier visit in search of a helmet. She had quickly come to the conclusion that the entirety of the room was dangerous to her little sister.

  Elsa walked over to a particular corner of the room that caught her eye. And it wasn’t in an appealing manner in which it did so. As she got closer to the heap of something in the corner, she came to the realization that it was a pile of dresses. Soiled dresses. Very soiled dresses.

  To Elsa, this was certainly some sort of health hazard. The germs in this pile would likely cause Anna to contract some sort of sickness. Elsa made an icy basket and, using her magic, loaded the enormous amount of dirty laundry into it. She shook her head in disgust, using a cold wind to push the basket just outside the doorway.

  Elsa then turned to the bed. It was unmade, and there was quite a bit of clothes still on their hangers strewed all over it. Elsa’s eyes widened. These hangers were made of metal wire. What if Anna was exceedingly tired when she came to bed and she completely forgot to move them, resulting in her being stabbed by them?

  She immediately coated the hangers holding the clothes and the hangers in Anna’s wardrobe in a soft permanent covering of snow. Nodding her head in satisfaction, she summoned a strand of magical wind to hang the dresses on the bed in the wardrobe.

  Elsa turned to observe the whole room. There were just so many hazards in this small area. Elsa huffed a bit. Anna could trip and knock out her front teeth on the hard floors. She could slide into the wall when coming into the room too quickly. Anna could even get a concussion if she slipped on the rug.

  She was freaking out a bit at all of the possible disasters that could occur until she happened to glance at the snow-covered hangers. Elsa eyed it thoughtfully with an eyebrow raised. She then came to an excellent idea.

  Why couldn’t she just coat the walls, the floor, and all the hardwood surfaces in the room with soft, permanent snow that couldn’t be kicked away by anyone?

  Elsa waved her hands a bit and, starting from the center of the wall she was facing, the snow began to creep onto all of the surfaces composing the room. She stepped backwards just outside of the doorway as the snow reached where she had been standing. Just as the snow reached the edge of Anna’s room, Elsa stopped it.

  She tentatively stepped into the room onto the snow. It was solid and as she reached down and touched it, she came to the realization that it was also forgiving in that it was squishy. She turned and touched the wall. It had the same texture.

  Elsa nodded her head in satisfaction and relief. It was perfect. Anna wouldn’t hurt herself and Elsa could have peace of mind in that the entire room was Anna-proof.

  Now all she could hope is that Anna wouldn’t find it for a while.

  ………………………………………………………………………………………………………

      Elsa peeked around the corner, watching the red-headed girl strolling through the halls and singing in a melodious voice.

  She almost couldn’t persuade herself to move from her position. It was such a perfect moment. Anna was completely relaxed and in her element. She was interacting with all of the paintings and throwing comments their way.

  “How’s the life of the party, Julie? Enjoying your dance, Romero?” Anna winked at a painting of a man and a woman dancing in a hubbub of people as she strolled leisurely through the large room of pictures.

  “I trust that the sandwiches are tasty, Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert Grape?” Anna questioned in a false, pish-posh voice to an image of a woman and a man having a picnic.

  “How are you today, Lady Odette? I hope wonderful,” Anna gave a little curtsy to a woman in a picture with a male consort. “Ever the charmer, eh, Prince Percy?” Anna eyed the consort with an eyebrow raised.

  “Ooh, livin’ la vida loca, Señorita?” Anna spoke what Elsa assumed was the only Spanish Anna knew and laughed up at a woman in a Spanish-looking dress.

  “What’s up, Charlene? Oh, yeah. You!” Anna giggled, pointing at a painting of a woman being pushed on a swing. She then moved a little further down the wall.

  “You guys!” Anna exclaimed enthusiastically, her arms opening wide in a gesture at all of the characters in the image. “You are looking especially good today. New haircut, eh, Karl?” Elsa rolled her eyes at Anna’s constant one-sided banter with all of the inanimate objects depicting people that likely never existed.

  Yet, although it was very concerning to Elsa in regard to Anna’s mental state, it was quite cute and Anna-like overall and seemed to only endear the younger girl to Elsa more.

  “Welp, see you guys later. I’m going for a ride with Kjekk,” Anna skipped out of the room through the door on the opposite side of the room from Elsa.

  Elsa furrowed her brow and pursed her lips. Who in the world was someone called Kjekk?

  At that moment, Elsa decided to follow Anna to not only ensure the younger’s safety, but to also discover who this Kjekk was.

  They continued through the halls, Elsa creeping along a short stretch behind a skipping, singing Anna.

  Soon enough, they came upon a picture that Elsa recognized to be Joan of Arc.

  “Hiya, Joan! How’re things going with you?” Anna paused for a minute as if receiving a response. Elsa raised an eyebrow. Anna didn’t really interact with the other paintings quite like that.

  “Things are going great with me, girlfriend. Elsa is doing so well as queen and as a big sister and I am so glad we’re back together. I truly couldn’t ask for a better sister. I’m so, so proud of her and I can only hope that I’ll be like her one day,” Anna expressed lovingly, and Elsa felt her heart flutter with the praise.

  It had been so long since anyone had ever given any sort of commendation to Elsa. Actually, it had likely been more than thirteen years ago. During her isolation, she never was provided any approval for her actions. No acknowledgement was given to how hard she struggled to control the magic she was born with and how unbelievably difficult it was to abandon her sister outside that door. To live a life of misery and unhappiness with an overpowering desire to throw it all away and open the door to give her sister the life she deserved.

  But Elsa never really patted herself on the back for enduring all of those horrors. She didn’t feel as if she needed it. It was simply what she deserved as a terrible icy witch that hurt her sister in every way.

  But to have someone say that they were proud of her and for that someone to be her sister… That was more than Elsa could ever ask for. It was the best thing she’d had in a very, very long time.

  “Oh, and I have something to talk to you about. It’s gonna have to be later, though, ‘coz I gotta see a man about a horse, if you get what I mean,” Anna grinned and laughed, successfully drawing Elsa from her reverie. After reconsidering what Anna said, Elsa came to the conclusion that the joke was something humorous only to Anna.

  “Okay, seriously. I got to go. I’ll talk to you later, I’m going to ride Kjekk!” Elsa’s eyes widened a bit in horror. Why was Anna riding Kjekk?

  Before Elsa could truly contemplate this question in depth, Anna had exited the area and moved on to the hall. Elsa followed along as quietly as she could. Pretty soon, though, Anna stopped.

Elsa looked around quickly, trying to find a place to hide. There weren’t many options, but Elsa saw a decorative potted plant and decided that it would have to do. She scurried over behind it and kneeled down.

  Elsa peeked through the leaves to see Anna turning around in the elder’s direction with a confused look on her face. However, after a few seconds of glancing about, she soon turned around and continued on her previous path.

  The blonde sighed in relief at Anna’s apparent imperceptiveness.

  Elsa then cautiously exited her position behind the plant and continued on her trek behind her younger sister. They continued for a short while before Anna suddenly stopped once again.

  Just as she saw the redhead beginning to turn her face back towards her, Elsa dove into a doorway.

  “Hmm,” Anna hummed suspiciously. Elsa winced. She was afraid Anna might have seen something. It was probably her hair. Elsa formed a few icy pins for her hair and put it up into a nice and tidy bun. At hearing the sound of Anna’s footsteps growing fainter, Elsa hurried out of the room and rushed after her sister as quietly as she could while nearly jogging.

  However, very unfortunately, she was caught in the act of sneaking around.

  “Who is following me?” Anna interrogated as she spun around before Elsa could hide behind a corner or nearby foliage.

  Elsa smiled sheepishly.

  “Elsa?”

  “Hi!” Elsa squeaked, giving a little wave.

  “Hi,” Anna replied suspiciously. Elsa swallowed in nervousness. She really hoped Anna wouldn’t catch on to what she’d been doing.

  “Well, I’m heading to a meeting, sooo… Catch you later?” Elsa grinned widely with a seemingly cheerful exterior, but inwardly cursed herself for being so opposite of herself and rather being Anna-ish in her response.

  “Okay…” Anna continued about her way and Elsa clicked as silently as she could behind her.

  “You’re following me, aren’t you?” the redhead demanded suddenly after a few beats, whirling toward Elsa quickly.

  “No?” Elsa said in a manner that was more of a question. Anna judged her with one eyebrow raised. Elsa kept a smile plastered on her face.

  “You just said you had to go to a meeting.”

  “Well, I was just going down this hallway and looking at things as I was going to the meeting room.”

  “Elsa, the meeting room is the other way,” Anna stated, her eyes half-lidded and an unimpressed look on her face.

  “Umm… I like taking the scenic route,” Elsa quickly lied, trying to cover up her true intentions.

  “Hmmm…. Okay,” Anna accepted Elsa’s response very skeptically.

  When Elsa saw Anna turn to continue about her way, Elsa stroked her chin with a hand. How was she going to watch Anna if Anna was watching her back?

  Elsa looked down at her shoes. They were shiny, sparkly heels of ice and she clacked them against the floor a few times.

  Elsa reached down and slipped off her shoes, leaving her feet bare. She looked up in the direction Anna left in and smiled, her eyes half-lidded.

  “Game-changer.”

  ………………………………………………………………………………………………………

     “Ow! Ow! Ow! Goodness me, that hurts,” Elsa muttered as she trekked barefooted across the sharp pebbles that were trailed into the stables. She realized it probably wasn’t the smartest idea to leave her shoes neatly placed in the hall. Her ice shoes…

  Elsa looked down at her feet and shook her head. Why didn’t she think of it before? Elsa waved her hands and magical icy heels appeared on her feet. Sometimes she really didn’t think about things.

  “Who’s a good boy? You are!” Elsa suddenly heard Anna’s voice not too far from her.

  Elsa lifted her gaze from her feet and to the hallway of a stable in front of her. She then realized that Anna was quite close to her and was petting a horse.

  “You want one of these?” Anna held out a sugar cube on her extended palm. The horse quickly but gently took it from her grasp and whinnied in happiness. “What a sweet boy, Kjekk.” Elsa’s eyes widened. That beast was Kjekk? Oh, well. It did make sense when Elsa pieced together the clues in her mind.

  “You ready, buddy?” Anna asked as she approached the side of the horse. It neighed in what Elsa assumed was some sort of affirmation.

  “Alright,” Anna hopped up on the horse. It was then that it occurred to Elsa that she needed to hide. If Anna caught her spying again, the redhead would likely be angry with her.

  Elsa’s eyes darted about. She was too far from any of the horses’ stalls to hide with any of them, and she was also too distant from the pile of hay that was near Anna and her horse.

  “Elsa, what are you doing here?!” Elsa looked at Anna wide-eyed in horror. Anna was staring at Elsa in turn, but Anna’s expression was angry. Correction: furious.

  “Hangin’?” Elsa tried with a very much forced smile.

  “Elsa, you’ve been following me and you’re going to tell me why right now!” Anna yelled.

  “Well, I just wanted to see how you were doing,” Elsa answered. It was mostly true, so Elsa technically wasn’t lying.

  “Wait a minute… You were spying on me!”

  “Anna, no, I wasn’t-”

  “Yes, you were! You’ve been driving me absolutely crazy with this ‘I Spy’ game that I seem to be the star of. Elsa, I’m not a baby. I don’t need to be watched!”

  “And you covered my whole room in snow!” Elsa winced and opened her mouth to try to reply. “Before you say anything, yes, I’ve known about it all day. I was just waiting for a good time to bring it up. Good grief, Elsa, I’m perfectly fine! It’s not like I’m made of glass!”

  Elsa watched as Anna’s horse shifted a bit under her, presumably uncomfortable with its mistress’ anger.

  “Anna, I think you need to get off that animal,” Elsa encouraged, feeling her being fill with worry and dread that overtook the guilt that was beginning to consume her being.

  “I do not need to get off Kjekk. I am going to ride him if I want,” Anna proclaimed hotly, suddenly spurring the horse forward.

  It immediately sprung to action and sped past Elsa. She turned and hurried out of the stables. Elsa sighed at the sight of Anna riding away swiftly on her mount in the direction of the slowly setting sun. She looked down at her feet and closed her eyes.

  Elsa shook her head sadly, heading back into the castle.

  Anna would be fine.

  ………………………………………………………………………………………………………

     “I can’t believe she thinks she can run my life! This is getting out of hand,” Anna ranted as she rode Kjekk as fast as she could push him to go. They were racing through a small trail that Anna happened to see in the midst of her angry frenzy.

  Neither one of them had been on the trail before and that fact was barely registering in Anna’s mind.

  “I’m not a kid anymore and I need to stop being treated like one!” Anna almost shouted as Kjekk rounded a corner at an incredible speed that, if she hadn’t been holding on tightly, could have thrown her from the horse.

  “I’m a responsible adult and I can do what I want to!” Anna growled loudly.

  The horse took a trail that shot off to the left of the main path.

  “I should be able to do what I want to do when I want to do it! It’s been that way my whole life! No one ever cared what I did as a kid! Mama and Papa were always preoccupined. Preoccupied! Good grief, I’m not good with words,” Anna raged as her steed raced through the wood.

  Anna then was suddenly hit with a realization.

  Now was the first time in forever that anyone had cared about her more than their own self. Mama and Papa may have cared, but no one kept such a close watch over her as Elsa did now.

  Anna’s anger dissipated quickly as she understood that her sister was trying to keep her safe because she loved her.

  However, as the pair approached a log that had fallen over the trail, Kjekk was already inconsolable from his stress at Anna’s previous outbursts.

  At that moment, Kjekk came to a stop mid-run and reared up on his back legs.

  “WOAH!” Anna screamed as she held on tightly to the reins. “Stop, Kjekk!” Suddenly the horse bucked, and Anna flew off, landing directly on her arm.

  “AHHHH!” she screeched, clinging tightly to her arm. The horse turned and fled in the direction of the castle.

  Anna managed to wipe away a few tears with her good arm to take a look at the other. It was covered in blood and she found that whenever she moved it, a blistering pain shot through it.

  She looked under her arm and there was a large, sharp rock. Anna winced and felt the sting of the cut. Tears welled up in her eyes at the pain and they streamed down her cheeks.

  “Ow,” she whined hopelessly. Anna glanced around the forest, trying to pinpoint where exactly she was.

  Suddenly, a fact that didn’t seem so important before, suddenly took more priority than anything else.

  Where was she and how would she ever get back home?

  ………………………………………………………………………………………………………

     “Hi, Elsa! Where’s Anna?” Olaf questioned as he bounded playfully into Elsa’s study. Elsa looked up and furrowed her brow in concern. She glanced out the window and noted that it was dark out.

  “Is she not in the castle?” Elsa asked Olaf with a worried expression.

  Elsa had been lying low since Anna’s outburst. The truth is that Elsa felt absolutely horrible. She never meant to make Anna feel inferior or anything of that sort. She simply wanted to protect her. The fresh cut that was Anna’s sacrifice still deeply wounded her. She had just been trying to prevent her sister from any more deadly experiences.

  She had spent the entirety of her time in her study since she last saw Anna. She had missed dinner and had halfway expected Anna to come in and say something to her about the previous happenings.

  “No… I looked all over for her,” Olaf said, his smile beginning to fall as Elsa began to more visibly panic.

  “Are you okay?” he implored innocently with a bit of worry in his voice.

  Elsa stared out the window in horror and fear as the icy cold fear began to course through her veins.

  She never should have allowed Anna to ride on that horse.

  Elsa spared Olaf a short glance in the midst of her nigh hysteria.

  “Anna’s in trouble,” Elsa said simply, before taking flight through the castle. In a manner quite similar to before, Elsa burst down the stairs and blasted out the door.

  She stopped for a moment at the gates and looked to the guards standing on the wall.

  “Has Anna come home since her ride with her horse?!” Elsa shouted desperately, dreading the answer that she so feared she would receive.

  “No, your majesty. We haven’t seen her,” the one on the right replied apologetically. Elsa shook her head, staring out into the dark town, and she felt her ice begin to creep around her feet.

  Elsa’s eyes remained wide with fear. She had to find her somehow.

  But Elsa knew she wouldn’t be fast enough if Anna was in any sort of dire situation. She began hyperventilating with all the fearful visions flashing through her head.

  However, the worst of those images was that of wolves in the forest. Angry, hungry wolves.

  Dismissing that thought as soon as it entered, Elsa tried to focus on the thought that Anna was likely in the town somewhere and preoccupied with something in a shop.

  But she couldn’t silence the nagging voice in her mind that perpetually insisted that Anna was in the forest.

  Suddenly, she saw a large figure racing toward her. She watched, horrified as it drew closer.

  As it entered the light of the path nearing the castle, she came to the realization that it was Anna’s horse. It rushed by her speedily and her hair blew with the wind it left in its wake.

  At that moment, a thought occurred to Elsa. Kjekk knew where he left Anna. If Elsa could somehow get that information from his memories. If only she could speak to horses…

  Elsa put her hands in front of her and concentrated on all the love, concern, and every emotion she held for Anna. She poured those feelings wholeheartedly into her creation.

  She watched as her figure contorted itself into a large snow being. Elsa moved her hands so that the figure formed four legs and a sturdy, stout neck.

  Finishing her masterpiece, Elsa shoved a piece of her essence into the snow creature.

  As she stood there, her chest heaving, the great snow equine opened its eyes to stare into that of its creator.

  It had beautiful icy blue eyes that Elsa felt were looking into her very soul. It seemed to understand her entirely and even appeared to mirror her emotions at the moment.

  There was an immediate connection between the two and it trotted past her to Kjekk.

  Elsa turned to watch her steed as it, with one stare, calmed Anna’s horse. They both exchanged several strange grunting noises. Elsa furrowed her brow. Before long, the snow creature turned to rush toward her. It threw a glance at her and she understood it immediately.

  It wanted her to get on.

  The horse bent down and she mounted her easily. When she was securely rested on its back, she held on tightly, knowing that her creation would take flight as soon as she was mounted.

  Suddenly, with a burst of speed that Elsa didn’t know was possible to reach, her snowy steed rushed forward the way from which that Anna’s horse came.

  Elsa clung onto the soft, silky mane of the creature as well as she could. She watched helplessly as the animal zig-zagged through town.

  If Elsa would have been on a leisurely ride, she would’ve noted the beauty of Arendelle at night. The soft glow of street lights lit by candles and the serene scene of people quietly wandering about.

  People that were wandering in the path of her creation that was running like a bat out of nowhere.

  “Watch out!” Elsa shouted as they were quickly approaching a man and a woman. They quickly parted on opposite sides. The beast charged between them quickly.

  Elsa’s eyes widened as they suddenly took a left around the edge of a house. She looked ahead and saw exactly where they were headed: the forest.

  The steed then turned and took her on a small trail that led into the thick of the trees. Elsa ducked down a bit so that she wouldn’t hit her head on any branches.

  After not too many moments, they reached a divide in the road. While Elsa expected to continue on the main road, her mount had different plans.

  Elsa yelped as it jerked almost violently in its desperate attempt to get to their location. When she felt herself sliding off one side, the creature shook a bit in the opposite direction, repositioning her.

  To her surprise, the animal stopped just short of a log crossed over the road. Elsa, knowing that this was the place, slid off quickly and scanned the ground through the trees.

  There was no one in sight and the only sounds she could hear were her own panicked breathing mixed with the anxious hoofs beating on the ground behind her.

  The desperation was building within her and she felt an almost overpowering need to let loose with a scream.

  Originally, she tried to hold it back. She didn’t want to frighten the horse, after all. But then it occurred to her that the horse was basically her in a foreign body. Elsa turned to look into its eyes.

  Inside the swirling blue orbs were multiple emotions. There was fear, guilt, worry, and love combined into the complicated emotions that she held for Anna.

  Elsa knew immediately that it would understand and would not be spooked in the least. So she released one of the loudest screams she’d ever had.

  “ANNA!!!! Where are you!” Elsa screeched.

  There were several moments of silence following her outburst. Just as Elsa was about to break down completely, she heard something.

  “Elsa?” a weak, sleep-addled voice sounded somewhere to her left. She snapped her head to the side. There in the ditch was a dark figure resting at a strange angle.

  “Anna?!” Elsa questioned, hoping and praying that the person in the ditch was her sister.

  “Elsa! Oh, thank goodness you’re here,” Anna answered, relieved. Elsa felt a sudden wetness on her cheeks, but didn’t bother to wipe it.

  “Oh, Anna!” Elsa lit a bright blue light in her hand and rushed over to her fallen sister. She huddled down in the ditch with the redhead and brought the younger girl into a tight hug.

  “My baby sister.” Elsa held her tightly as the tears streamed down her face. She rocked the girl back and forth in her arms, relishing the feel of her sister’s warm and most importantly breathing body.

  “I’m so glad you’re okay, Sunshine.” Then it occurred to the blonde that she hadn’t checked if Anna was completely okay. And she felt some sort of strange moisture on her elbow.

  “Anna?” Elsa pulled away and shone her light on her elbow. Her eyes widened in horror as she came to the realization that it was blood smeared all over her limb. Elsa immediately turned the magic’s light to Anna.

  “You’re bleeding!” Elsa cried in shock, staring at the blood coating her sister’s arm.

  “Yeah, please don’t touch it,” Anna winced as Elsa attempted to feel her arm.

  “How badly does it hurt?”

  “Pretty bad,” Anna said and tried to move it a bit. As soon as she did, however, Elsa noted that a look of extreme pain shot onto her face. “AH! Jeez Louise, that hurts!” Anna grounded out in pain. Elsa took hold of her sister’s face between her hands gently.

  “Look, don’t move, okay? I’m going to cover it in a layer of snow to stop the bleeding now,” Elsa reassured as comfortingly as she could manage as inwardly she was experiencing quite possibly the most extreme wave of terror she had all night. She waved her shaking hands and gently coated Anna’s arm in snow so that the bleeding would stop.

  “How long has this been bleeding?” Elsa asked, halfway to herself.

  “Don’t worry, I had gotten it to stop an hour or two back,” Anna responded, her voice strained with the pain she felt. Elsa glanced up into Anna’s comforting face that was slightly contorted with pain.

  “Can you try moving it, Anna?” Elsa asked, testing and trying to see if Anna’s injury was as serious as she feared. Anna tried to move it and as soon as she did she cried out in agony.

  “Okay, okay. Anna, what I’m about to do is going to hurt. Do you trust me?” Elsa questioned, dreading what she was about to do.

  “Of course, Elsa, I trust you completely,” Anna expressed with complete warmth and love evident in her voice.

  “Alright…” Elsa formed ice and grabbed onto her sister’s arm.

  “Ready?” Elsa hoped and prayed that Anna wouldn’t be too loud so that something unsightly wouldn’t be attracted to their position. Anna simply nodded and Elsa could see the trepidation as well as the determination in the younger girl’s gaze.

  Elsa nodded in response and began to pull slowly and increased her pressure gradually.

  “Elsa, Elsa, Elsa, ELSA!!! It hurts! OH, GOSH! It hurts bad!” Elsa felt the tears slip down her face in response to Anna’s agony, but continued until she heard the arm slip back into its proper place.

  Elsa then immediately had the ice on Anna’s hand spread to cover Anna’s shoulder and the entirety of her arm in a cold splint.

  “Anna, does it feel any better? I need you to tell me honestly. This is vitally important,” Elsa informed her.

  “Yes, it feels a lot better than it did.” Elsa let out a breath of relief that she didn’t even know she had been holding. Elsa placed her hands on Anna’s face and kissed her sister’s forehead, allowing her lips to linger there for a few moments. She pulled away and placed a few more kisses on Anna’s face, finally stopping after kissing the younger girl’s nose.

  Elsa reached under Anna’s knees and supported her back with another hand as she lifted carefully.

  Anna wrapped her good arm around Elsa’s neck and allowed the splinted one to rest on her stomach. Elsa trudged out of the ditch and was immediately met with the sight of her snowy creation.

  “Elsa,” Anna breathed in fascination and wonder. Elsa glanced at her sister and a ghost of a smile found its way on her lips at the childlike expression of glee on Anna’s face.

  Anna extended a hand and the horse immediately pushed its head into her grasp.

  “Elsa, it’s… it’s you!” Anna said, absolutely enamored. Elsa nodded, a loving smile finally coming onto her face.

  The animal suddenly seemed giddy with excitement and happiness and it nibbled at Anna’s braids and huffed on her face, nuzzling her. Anna giggled, thrilled with Elsa’s snow beast.

  “Yes, it is. And she loves you dearly, Anna,” Elsa stated contentedly.

  “Just like you do,” Anna connected the dots, looking into Elsa’s slightly more matured features.

  Elsa nodded warmly, but immediately remembered Anna’s injury after glancing at her. Elsa decided that it was definitely time to take Anna back to the castle for an inspection by the doctor.

  “Come on,” Elsa said, approaching the side of the steed. She immediately knelt down so that Anna could be placed on her large, strong back. Elsa placed Anna on the horse and got on behind her. Without even telling the animal, it began trotting at a pace just fast enough to arrive at the castle in not too extensive of a time but not so fast that it would jostle Anna.

  The redhead leaned back against her sister and rested the back of her head on the eldest’s shoulder in relaxation.

  Elsa smiled in relief. At least her sister was alright.

  ………………………………………………………………………………………………………

     “Elsa, I need to talk to you about something,” Anna confessed. Elsa turned her gaze from her reading and to the girl lying in her bed beside her.

  “Hmm?” Elsa hummed in response, placing the book on the nightstand beside the bed. After looking at Anna’s face, she knew that Anna had something serious to talk about.

  Anna had possibly the most solemn expression that Elsa had ever seen on her face. It was a very strange contrast to her usual bubbly countenance.

  “I’m sorry, Elsa. I shouldn’t have flown off the handle earlier. If I wouldn’t have been so angry- for absolutely no reason, might I add- maybe none of this would have happened.” Elsa’s eyes softened, and a sad smile found its way on her face.

  She knew this conversation would appear soon. She just hadn’t expected it just yet. As ridiculous as it was, Elsa had actually halfway hoped it never would be brought up and that they could continue with their life as if nothing happened.

  “Anna, Sunshine, I shouldn’t have treated you like you a child. Then you wouldn’t have been so upset. I’m the one that caused you to hurt your arm,” Elsa said, her voice guilt-laden and she couldn’t help but cross her arms over her stomach in a self-protective gesture that had become one of her telltale signs of insecurity.

  “Elsa, it’s not your fault at all. I shouldn’t have been so quick to react. I know you’re just trying to protect me.” Elsa glanced at her sister with slightly worried blue eyes. All she could see in the youngest’s gaze was pure adoration coupled with a smile dampened by the gravity of their current conversation.

  Elsa sighed and gently threaded her fingers through Anna’s hair. It was very soft and velvety. She could touch it all day.

  “I haven’t had anyone try to protect me in more than thirteen years ago. Mama and Papa pretty much didn’t care what I did because they were so busy trying to do their duties and whatnot,” Anna continued, her tone a bit guarded and very gentle. Elsa knew that Anna was trying to avoid saying the truth.

  “You mean because they were so busy trying to keep my secret,” Elsa couldn’t help but allow to slip past her lips. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Anna’s struggle with the words.

  “You were the only person that’s ever tried to protect me like this. I’m just not used to it, I guess,” Anna admitted, finally deciding to avoid Elsa’s previous statement.

  “I can’t lose you, Anna,” Elsa confessed, using the hand in Anna’s hair to pull her closer to the eldest’s body. “You’re my everything. And…” Elsa swallowed, struggling with her next words. It was certainly foreign releasing such deeply-hidden feelings. “I don’t think I could go on in the world without you.”

  “Elsa… is that the reason that you didn’t move when Hans was going to kill you?” Anna asked and the words cut through Elsa like a spear. She looked quickly at Anna. She was saddened terribly to see the worry and the fear swirling through Anna’s teal pools.

  Elsa had hoped that Anna never made the connection that Elsa had heard the sword behind her. Well, since they were delving so deeply into feelings unsaid, then Elsa supposed that she might as well tell her sister the truth. After all, Anna deserved to know.

  “Yes,” Elsa voiced so quietly that she was afraid that Anna hadn’t heard. Just as she was worried that she’d have to repeat herself, Anna responded.

  “I can understand your decision. I can’t live in a world without you either.” Elsa closed her eyes, mulling over this fact. It didn’t surprise her in the least that Anna felt that way. But it didn’t necessarily mean that Elsa agreed with those feelings.

  “Anna, I need you to promise me something. Can you promise me that if something were to happen to me, you’d continue living?” Elsa asked. She knew it was an unfair request. But she also knew that Anna had to live above all else.

  “Can you promise me the same thing?” Anna threw the question back at Elsa. At that moment, Elsa knew that the promise would be impossible to accomplish for either of them.

  “I don’t make promises I can’t keep,” Elsa settled on saying after several silent beats.

  Anna nodded, accepting the answer. It was an unsaid knowledge that neither would be able to keep that promise.

  “Elsa, thank you,” Anna suddenly stated out of nowhere.

  “For what?” Elsa asked, albeit surprised.

  “For loving me and caring enough about me to give up everything.”

  “Sunshine, you don’t have to thank me for that,” Elsa responded heartfeltly, feeling love and adoration for her sister swell in her chest.

  “Yes, I do. You’re the best sister ever,” Anna expressed, nestling into the blonde’s side.

  “No, that can’t be right because you’re undoubtedly the best one,” Elsa negated Anna’s previous statement with a growing smile on her face.

  “I love you, Elsa.”

  “I love you most, Anna.”

[docholligay]

Aino’s 8: Chapter Two--Hate, Love, and Other Cons

I forgot to post this last month because I’m not exactly with it right now, BUT, here is the next chapter of Aino’s 8, as sponsored by @yamadara87 !! I hope you enjoy! All chapters can be found here. 

Ami Mizuno hated Michiru Kaioh.

Michiru was affected, and cold, and manipulative. She had no concept of money, of consequences, of basic niceties. She genuinely seemed to think herself above every human she spoke to, and ordered people around with the grace and ease that only the cradle-rich can muster. Ami would have delighted in nothing more than to see her behind bars, as unlikely as that might be to happen.

Michiru Kaioh hated Ami Mizuno.

Ami thought she was the smartest one in the room and covered it with an oversold bashfulness that bordered on pantomime, had all the social grace one might expect a shut-in to have, and loved to play the victim. She ignored people in deference to her computer or a book, and had the audacity to complain about a lack of social invitations. Michiru would have delighted to see her forced to the bottom of a prison hierarchy.

Luckily, both worked in an occupation where hating the other was perfectly acceptable.

“Ami,” Michiru gave that polite, fanged smile, “lovely to see you again.”

Ami sat down across from her, slipping in quietly against the general din of the coffee shop.

“Surprised to see you here.” Ami offered, as much grace as she was willing to give.

“One must find the level of hell upon which the sullen lie beneath the water.” Michiru took a glance around the coffee shop as if she had decided that this certainly must be it.

“Visiting from the circle of flatterers, I see.” Ami did not take her eyes off of Michiru, as if afraid she might pull a knife from her finely appointed silk skirt and slide it between Ami’s ribs.

But Michiru was disinterested in incurring Ami’s quiet wrath anymore than her presence managed to inspire it, and so she waved a hand dismissively.

“Let’s us not simply spend this time together trading barbs, Ami, we are both well-armed and aware of such.” She took a sip of the tea in front of her, and immediately looked down at the cup disapprovingly. “It seems they have taken the definition of tea as ‘tea water’ rather literally.” She set it to the side. “As it so happens, I have work which may be of interest to you. And I think you will agree, whatever you may think of me personally, our times together have been quite lucrative.”

Ami shifted uncomfortably. Michiru may have been terrible, but she was not, as it happened, incorrect. Together, they had taken some of the greatest and boldest strides in criminal history, just with a simple clack of Ami’s keys and the honey of Michiru’s voice. And while she awaited the day that Michiru would turn on her, the same as Michiru must be waiting to feel Ami’s dagger in her back, the day had not yet come for either, each too valuable to the other.

Ami adjusted her glasses and drew her hoodie more closely around her. “What is it?”

“Las Vegas, Nevada,” She pronounced it long, and Ami quietly rolled her eyes, “There will be a grand gala, to celebrate the Belmont Stakes. We will,” She smoothed her skirt, “liberate the cash that is required to be held at the casino.”

Ami looked around at the people sitting in the coffee shop, wondering if Michiru had some dark power that allowed her to make her voice heard only by whoever was meant to hear. It wouldn’t surprise her to discover that Michiru was some off-brand Antichrist.

She leaned in toward Michiru. “How much?”

“Impossible to say, of course,” Michiru remained sitting full and upright, unafraid of who might hear, “but do know that I will be putting all my efforts toward inspiring….confidence, shall we say, in the possibilities.”

Ami sighed. “It’s funny, don’t you think, how some people are vague to make themselves interesting?”

Michiru snapped to attention. “Millions. Forgive me, I had quite forgotten your difficulty in comprehending much beyond the bullet point.”

Ami considered for a moment. “Have you considered that the two of us can’t make this work, in all your plans?”

“I’m insulted, Ami,” Her voice was sing-song and overly familiar, “You know I do not, myself, believe in chance.”

“You have someone else.”

“Oh,” Michiru chuckled, “Clairvoyance.”

Ami gathered up her bag. “Not all of us have time to guess about whatever you’re doing, no matter how much you like the drama of it all. Find someone else.” She started toward the door, passing my Michiru as she said one last thing.

“Minako Aino.”

Five syllables. Dropped without the slightest hint of what Ami would have called drama, and Michiru would have called presentation. It lashed around Ami Mizuno as surely as if Michiru had grabbed her arm.

But she hadn’t. Michiru simply sat, her back to Ami, waiting, looking off into the crowd of the coffee shop.

Mina. Everyone had heard about the heist she and Michiru had pulled off, although of course only Mina had gone down for it, and only because she had thought to take a greater cut than she and Michiru had agreed upon. Mina was legendary. Ami hadn’t heard she’d gotten out of prison..

Ami sighed heavily and whirled back around, sitting in front of Michiru again, hardly able to believe she was there. She should be walking back to her large apartment, with her multiple monitors and her pajamas, refreshing her social media and casually hacking into others. A sort of Robin Hood hobby, she assured herself.

But Mina. But Michiru. But the money.

“You wanted to purchase a home in Germany, so I heard,” Michiru smiled, “I happen to know that whatever the cut, it will be more than enough to purchase the home, supply the move...bribe the government for European citizenship, some of with which I might be acquainted. The essentials.”

Ami pulled up the hood of her hoodie and and looked up at Michiru.

“The camera setup in these casinos is always basic. It’s the safe that’ll be the trouble. The electronic locks.”

You didn’t have to be friends with your coworkers, Ami thought.

__

In a turn from Mina’s usual compatriots, Hotaru Tomoe was not a criminal at all.

Well, that could not be said to be entirely true. She had met Mina working at a club, where she was too old to so much as be inside, providing entertainment from her pedestal, where she bent herself into pretzel-like shapes. Mina had noticed immediately, with an eye that seemed to occasionally go beyond mere observance and on into the psychic, a way that always seemed to note a human being’s every motivation and force.

But, rather than bust Hotaru, and lose her the work, Mina had befriended her.

This was the first, but not the last, surprise that Minako Aino had to offer.

Mina had gotten her work in better clubs, running through the long list of people she knew and connections she’d made, until, after a few years of work, Hotaru had gotten a job with the Cirque du Soleil. It was good work, steady, with a paycheck to match and mostly without men pawing at her every night, and she was happy for it.

But Mina did nothing out of a mere sense of kindness, though it may also have been true. Mina liked to have an open tab with the world, with enough debts that could be called in at any time, and in a certain sense, Hotaru was not surprised at all to see Mina sitting at a table outside of her rehearsal, sipping a cocktail in the lounge lit by soft blue neon light and smiling.

She did not have to call out to Hotaru. Hotaru came to her, as if pulled. As if knowing that it was inevitable anyhow.

“Hotaru,” She leaned forward, as if she were surprised Hotaru had come to her, “So nice to see you. How’s work going?” Her grin got wider. “Shame I haven’t picked up tickets to see you.”

Hotaru shrugged. “I’m mostly part of an ensemble.”

And it was true, she performed with a handful of other girls, but it was also true that none of them could truly be called standard, or plain. It wasn’t everyone who could put their hips behind their head. She sat down across from Mina, who did not attempt to argue with her, simply waved a hand, and a cocktail waitress materialized.

“Are you still drinking rum and cokes, or have we grown up since then?” It was said with playfulness, not malice, and reminded Hotaru of exactly how long it had been since they’d seen each other.

“No, I drink like a woman now.”

“Fantastic! We’d love a French 75.” She gave a sweet wink to the waitress, who nodded and blushed just a little bit as she walked away.

It had been a long time, but Mina hadn’t changed all that much, whatever she had heard. And she had heard.

“I heard you went to prison.” She said quietly.

“Eh,” Mina waved her hand as if it were the least interesting thing in the world, “disagreement with a partner, is all. Funny you should ask that, actually.” The waitress set the drink in front of Hotaru, and smiled at Mina, “Well, thank you so much.”

“Why funny?”

The moment Hotaru had been waiting for her entire life was coming, and she knew it. She could feel the weight of the favor pressing upon her, and, like an elderly woman who welcomes death as a friend, she was surprised to find herself not fearing it in the slightest.

“I have a job.” Mina looked at her with sparkling eyes, already delighted by the promise of the con.

Hotaru sipped at her drink. “I don’t know how to do anything.”

“How dare you!” Mina said in mock astonishment, “Hotaru, the things that you can do are maybe the most specific of all. There’s no one else I could call, it would have to be you. And,” She stretched her arms out to the walls of the casino, “You don’t even have to leave home. The show is coming here. In three weeks, so we have to get our act together.”

Hotaru had always imagined that this moment would come, but when she saw it in her mind’s eye, she never would have imagined that it would come together so quickly. Three weeks. It was standing on the edge of the high dive, with no time to decide you didn’t want to do this anymore.

“And I know,” Mina grinned, “That you'd like some money for an engagement ring.”

Hotaru nearly asked how she knew, but decided that was a silly question to ask--Mina knew because Mina made it her business to know. Mina had kept tabs on her ever since the day she had helped her out of that ratty club. Mina must know all about how she was dating a young cocktail waitress in a lounge not at all unlike this one, and how they had a small but clean apartment near the so-called Arts District where they’d lived together a year.

How badly she wanted the money to give her the wedding she wanted.

Hotaru nodded. “Who are we...actually, I don’t want to know.”

Hotaru may not have been a criminal, but Mina had often observed that she would be a good one. She didn’t ask many questions she didn’t need to know, which made it easy to say that she didn’t know. She kept to herself and did her work, just like she had every night at the club, and she held dear to her only the things that mattered the most.

And now, she held out her hand to Mina.

“A fair cut?”

Mina reached her hand across the table and gave it a shake. “Come on now, I’m an honest con. I always give people what they’re owed.”

“Yeah, that’s why your partner got you thrown in jail.”

Mina laughed. “A valuable lesson.”

Hotaru nodded again, and picked up the French 75, watching the bubbles dance in it, the way they would as she cheered Chibiusa in her bright white and sparkling dress, and she took a drink, smiling.

[theawkwardterrier]

Hand in Hand, Side by Side

Steggy Week, day 3 Prompt: AUs and Crossovers

Summary: ...it was a mark of the gruff affection that he held for Peggy that Phillips didn’t think about the ulcer-inducing process of tracking down a teenaged boy who was willing to be a pairs ice skater and replied only, “I’ll find someone.” 

AKA the pairs skating AU no one wanted

AO3 link here.

Steve should never have been recruited. He had doctor’s orders to find some exercise to build his stamina and he saw the way his mom winced when she looked at the prices for membership at the nearest pool so he suggested skating instead. The old rink near their house had cheap rentals, so every week Steve made his way over, trading four crumpled ones in exchange for a pair of scuffed skates far past being broken in. He should have skated the perimeter of the rink for a few months, moving from careful and nervous, barely balancing, to increased confidence even without the lessons he could ill-afford, before the experiment was halted.

Except: Abe Erskine had a cousin in Brighton Beach who wouldn’t stop pushing for him to be allowed to emigrate, and finally, in the last months of the USSR, his visa was stamped and he entered the United States. When they asked his occupation at the airport, some exhausted woman with braids piled on her head who didn’t seem to particularly care about the answer wrote down what he said - “Ice skating coach” - even though “Dissident” was the more recent and accurate job title. He hadn’t been to an Olympics since before Sarajevo, and most people didn’t know him anymore, the name only recalled by the occasional ardent skating fan. But he had been able to scrape together a roster of students, and it was while trying not to wince as a talented but mechanical student named Dottie Underwood took all the love out of a Swan Lake program, that he noticed Steve.

He was attempting a jump, something like a toe loop that he had no business trying and was fumbling through quite badly. But the vivid concentration alight on his face was exactly the same as a young girl Erskine had known from the time she was seven until the time she ascended the highest tier of the Olympic podium, and so, after Dottie had packed up and left precisely on time, Erskine found himself going over to where Steve sat on the bench at the intersection of the shadows of the American and Canadian flags. And as Steve unlaced his skates, Erskine offered the question: “Have you ever thought about being coached?”

Steve laughed through the first inquiries, and Steve’s mother laughed, exhaustedly, through the next. Steve was sickly, untrained, and don’t think she didn’t know how much coaching and competition would cost.

“I promise,” said Erskine, who would be going home to a barely heated apartment and once again filling the spaces in his belly with tea, “that you will never have to pay more than your four dollars a week.”

And Steve, who had blocked out as best he could the joy of a smooth pass around the rink, a new trick invented and mastered, because he knew that it would end, said, “If you can keep that promise, Mr. Erskine, then I’d like to try.”

Sarah Rogers paid her four dollars, and Erskine and Steve worked early morning and darkening evenings, skirting Steve’s school schedule and doctor’s appointments and necessary afternoons off because Bucky needed to see some new movie or because maybe Steve couldn’t breathe too well, but he was fast and that was important on a baseball team.

But over the months, despite the breaks, despite the youth, despite the rundown practice facility and the secondhand skates that Erskine had bought for Steve so at least he’d own a pair, somehow Steve became good. They waited a week, two weeks, a month, after the first time someone other than Erskine or Bucky or Sarah Rogers watched Steve try a spin or a jump and cocked their head in unintentional surprise and couldn’t look away. And then, the winter Steve was eleven, Erskine made a phone call because he’d always known that a solo career wasn’t sustainable if he was going to keep his promise to Sarah Rogers.

He and Chester Phillips didn’t generally bother with pleasantries, a good thing as excitement slid through tired veins.

“Phillips,” he said instead, “if your girl is still looking for a partner, I think I have one.”

Peggy skated for the first time when she was small, sliding minutely along the pond at the back of their property, her hands gripped by her brother. Her mother acquiesced easily to lessons when she asked for them, and less easily to hiring a proper coach for her after Peggy presented a carefully researched file of the best options.

That coach recommended Phillips when the Carters announced that they would be moving to New York. Peggy was technically an American citizen - her mother had joined her father on a business trip and Peggy had been a bit too eager to be born - but the only thing that felt like a homecoming was entering her new rink each day. The smell of feet and sweat and cold, while not pleasant, was the same all around the world.

A year into working with Phillips, he told her that she was good, very good, but she was almost certainly not going to become a professional as a figure skater.

He took in the set of her jaw and held back a smile. He had known she’d get stubborn about it. “Don’t think of it as an insult, think of it as strategy. We need to get you in a smaller pond.”

Her jaw slackened, her shoulders dropped. “Pairs?” she asked, because she picked up quick.

He gave her a bared-tooth grin, blink and miss it, before he said, “Hope you weren’t in the sport for the fans. You’ll have to work up to national skill before you skate to a stadium of more than moms and dads.”

But she ignored this. “Who’s meant to partner me?”

And it was a mark of the gruff affection that he held for Peggy that Phillips didn’t think about the ulcer-inducing process of tracking down a teenaged boy who was willing to be a pairs ice skater and replied only, “I’ll find someone.”

They went through three boys before Abraham Erskine walked into the rink, which felt a bit like tossing away rubies because only diamonds would do. But Daniel was too tentative, dependent on her to lead so that they were always a bit off, and Jack preferred showing off his own skills to working in tandem, and Eddie tried to catch her in the changing room and had to be send away with a broken nose. Finally Phillips introduced his old friend and the old friend introduced his floppy-haired student walking in behind him.

“You think this twig’s good enough to partner my girl?” Phillips boomed.

Peggy watched the new boy; she expected him to wince. Instead he said, voice quiet and sure, speaking from experience rather than bravado, “If I say I can do it, I can do it.” And somehow Peggy found herself believing him.

Steve was used to making do, and he’d known for a while that he’d have to skate pairs if he wanted to compete. It was useless to complain or wish for things to be different, because this was what he had.

Except that it turned out that what he had was pretty wonderful.

Peggy was a better skater than he was, but she wasn’t cruel or snobbish about it. She didn’t pity him, either, just worked hard and dared him to catch up.

“That was good,” she would say when he’d landed a difficult jump or had a successful run-through of a program, her voice appreciative rather than condescending, and it startled a grin out of him every time.

He’d thought he’d be nervous around her, just trying to keep his head down and avoid embarrassing himself in front of this unknown and talented girl with her British accent and her Manhattan apartment. But instead he found that he wanted to be friends with her. They came up with a secret handshake for before and after skating, and found out what each other’s favorite candies were. He introduced her to his mother and Bucky. She trained him in how to recognize a phone number by listening to the buttons’ tones, and he taught her about the best ways to catch popcorn or grapes in your mouth.

Steve had hoped to have a good partner. He had never imagined that he would get Peggy.

They had a cheering squad for when they competed locally: the Carters, Steve’s mother if she wasn’t scheduled to work, Bucky and whichever of the Barnes siblings or cousins were looking to tag along, and eventually Peggy’s friend Angie. When they went abroad for their first attempts at more major competition, Peggy’s mother came, as did the coaches, so the number of people who actually watched them skate into sixth place was more limited.

They went up to Canada for their first Junior Worlds. Steve was glad that it wasn’t any farther: no matter how many times Erskine assured her that girls and their families often paid a male partners’ expenses, his mother was already uncomfortable with the Carters covering skates and costumes, much less intercontinental travel. They scored eighth, and when Steve came home, for the first time since Erskine had first proposed the idea, Sarah Rogers asked him if perhaps it was time to stop dreaming.

She recognized immediately the look in his eyes, the willful fire that she’d first seen when he was a baby with a body fighting itself, when the doctor had shaken his head and said helplessly, “Just try to take care of him, Mrs. Rogers.”

“I’m not going to let us down like that,” he said. She was used to Steve being part of an us - it had been him and her for his entire life, and him and Bucky for only a slightly shorter time - but for the first time she realized he had that with Peggy too, a partnership formed from ice and hours and more defeats on the way to greater victories.

The next time she had an afternoon off, Sarah went to the rink and watched Steve and Peggy try a new lift. He nearly dropped her the first time, forcing her to recover awkwardly on one skate. She didn’t position herself properly the next time and they became tangled. After every attempt, they clasped hands, nearly unconsciously, and said something teasing so they would both laugh before trying again. It had seemed impossible that someone was more stubborn than Steve, but that was before seeing Peggy Carter set her jaw and look as if she would camp out on the ice rather than leave things unfinished. They were still working on the lift two hours later when Sarah left.

The next year Junior Worlds were in Croatia, and the lift, now perfect, helped them into second place.

They’d done well enough in their competitions - third at Four Continents, a series of gold medals from smaller events - but the commentators couldn’t hide the doubt in their voices as Steve and Peggy skated out during Worlds for the first time. They were up against more experienced competitors, Peggy was fuller-figured than the average skater, Steve leaner and smaller despite the beginnings of a growth spurt.

When they rewatched the tape later, they found the broadcast silent for nearly fifteen seconds after their swing medley faded and the two of them stood beaming at center ice. Then came the analysis, words piling over each other as everyone rushed to give shocked compliments. All the contrasts between them, the lowered expectations for what they would be able to do, only magnified the synchronicity and ease and care they had achieved.

Someone stuck a microphone in Steve’s face as he went to track down a Band Aid for a nick to his finger and asked what enabled the two of them to improve so much since their last competition. Another reporter found Peggy putting on a jacket and asked her the same thing.

That night the broadcast ended with a recap of the stunning American upset and a split screen of Peggy and Steve each pausing for half a breath and then saying, “Trust.”

Neither of them actually watched their star moment at the time. They’d found an unlocked door to the roof of their hotel the day before and agreed to meet up there. Peggy carried a thermos of hot chocolate; she often teased Steve that he should mature into either tea or coffee, but tonight she agreed that it would be the perfect thing. When he arrived, he had a package of her favorite shortbread in his pocket, and he wouldn’t tell her exactly where he tracked that down in Nice when they’d spent most of their time at the rink and he didn’t speak French besides.

A breeze blew by and they moved closer. They’d never been particularly touchy with each other: obviously things like lifts and throw jumps could be a bit full contact, but mostly they would brush hands or bump shoulders before and after a skate, do a hug during kiss-and-cry and after the judging. Still, after so much and so long - years of helping each other with homework, pushing each other for just that one more run-through of a routine or to get up and smile through a performance failure, discovering together what a boring nuisance international travel could be and working to alleviate that boredom with a million rounds of Twenty Questions and Truth or Dare - after all that, leaning on each other was unconscious, engrained.

“Hey,” said Steve, knocking his tented knees against hers. He almost diverted himself from what he was about to say, but on a near daily basis Peggy relied on him to toss her in the air, to catch her and support her when she came down. He could trust her with this; it was hers too. “What do you think the odds are that we’ll make it to Salt Lake City?”

She looked out for a moment, curled her hands around her hot cup and sipped. Then she turned to him with a grin. “Whatever the odds are, I wouldn’t bet against us. I don’t lose my bets.”

She’d been in the US for nearly half her life and still sounded so precisely British that, as far as Steve was concerned, she could have arrived at Buckingham Palace without an invitation. He reminded himself that he probably wasn’t allowed to be in love with her.

Phillips and Erskine brought in a choreographer to help them prepare for the Salt Lake games. Natasha was a former ballerina who looked barely older than the two of them, but she was Russian and in skating and dance, that had meaning.

Peggy loved Natasha immediately. They went out for drinks together when they were in countries where they were old enough. Steve had to build up a sort of tolerance for her; their personalities didn’t mesh automatically, but eventually they became good friends. She made their routines better either way, but worked them harder too. Some nights, Steve and Peggy sat on the bench by the edge of the rink less because of the chats they’d always liked to have as the lights were slowly turned off, and more because the thought of standing and moving to go home sounded unbearably strenuous.

They got a little press in the lead-up to the games - a People sidebar, a mention in the Times spread on the US Olympians - but Michelle Kwan was better known, considered the one to watch if you were going to catch a skating event.

Michelle walked away with the bronze. Steve and Peggy successfully ignored Phillips’s pacing, Erskine’s clenched knuckles, and Natasha’s terrifying stillness, and got through their programs, one to a Ludovico Einaudi piece and the other to “Killer Queen” for variety. In their hugs afterwards, in their exchanged glance, they felt a shared hope that perhaps they could pull this off. Perhaps all those hours of training and travel and listening to Phillips yell would end in more than just the two of them having found each other...

That night, when they couldn’t sleep for smiling, they found themselves on the floor of Steve’s room, holding their medals beside each other, watching the light play off the gold.

“Thank you,” Steve said after a while. “Mostly for never betting against us.”

She thought about saying something cheeky to keep things light. Instead: “Thank you for never giving me a reason to.”

She bumped his shoulder softly. He bumped back, smiling.

Continue here...

[higuchimon]

[fanfic] Just A Little Trade

Almost absolute silence reigned. What kept it from being absolute was the quiet tick of machines and sometimes the far off noise of footsteps going by. Very few of the locals wanted to come too near this place anyway, and those who had the right to be here were busy elsewhere at the moment.

In point of fact, there were only two people there at the moment: Edo Phoenix, former Commander in Chief of the Fusion occupation force, and Kurosaki Shun, member of the rebellion and a Lancer.

Kurosaki, so far as Edo knew, wasn’t much of a talker under normal circumstances. Now wasn’t a bit difference, given that he hadn’t woken up being struck on the head even with the best efforts of the healing pod.

He checked it carefully, just to be certain. Everything seemed the way that it should be, and if everything continued the way that it should, Kurosaki would probably wake up in another day or two. Three at the most. He would be very confused when he did, of course. When he’d been struck, Edo had still served Academia and the Professor, and those who’d been shown a different path by Sakaki Yuuya still were his enemies.

I’ll have to explain everything. He wished Saiou would be there to help him. Saiou didn’t do people any better than he did, but he could still find the words that Edo didn’t always have. The two of them worked reasonably well together.

Only Saiou wasn’t strictly a part of Academia. He dueled, of course, but he’d never joined the school, let alone the army. He visited Edo on occasion, or had before Edo achieved this promotion, but how long had it been now? Months?

He would have to find a a way to get in touch with Saiou, he decided, and let him know everything that had happened. Saiou had never overtly disapproved of the Professor or his goals – Edo wouldn’t have been his friend in those days if he had – but the more Edo considered the matter, the more Edo suspected Saiou would approve of his changes.

Edo let out a tired sigh. It would take time to get a message across to the Fusion Dimension safely, especially now. They’d kept quiet for the most part, not wanting anyone from there to find out what was going on. What Edo hadn’t told anyone else was that there was a good chance a faction of Obelisk Force or some of the other members of Academia might well come over here.

XYZ was, after all, considered prime hunting territory even now, with so little left. It had been part of his job to scoop up those he could find who would be suitable prey and keep them ready should anyone from there arrive.

The thought of doing so now sickened his stomach. He’d believed so much in the Professor’s cause that to look back on himself since then sent his heart racing and sweat trickling down.

He glanced at Kurosaki’s sleeping face for a few moments. If he didn’t wake up in the next handful of days, then Edo knew he would have to somehow get some form of help. The tube should manage everything. The tech was almost as advanced as the procedure for carding. But everything and anything could have a flaw in it.

Footsteps outside drew closer. Edo frowned; they didn’t sound like ones that he knew, and there weren’t any voices accompanying them.

That made it a little sketchy already. This was their territory and they had no reason to keep their voices down. Their few nervous XYZ allies might, but they also tended not to make any noise when approaching.

Not to mention he shouldn’t have heard them anyway, because they weren’t there to be heard. Or shouldn’t have been. They’d gone out to search for either new allies or survivors, for supplies, or for anything else that could help those they’d already found.

He suspected Kaito had also sent messages to whatever blocks of the Resistance remained. The official story on both sides was that there weren’t any left. Edo didn’t believe that for a moment. If Kaito still fought, then everyone else there did too, in whatever ways they could. They’d not given up before. Edo didn’t think anything had happened so they would.

But footsteps drew closer and there were no voices and the sense that something was far more wrong than it should be ran icy talons down Edo’s neck. He reached for his duel disk, ready to defend no matter who it was.

“There’s no need for that, Commander.”

The most mocking voice he’d heard in all of his life spoke. It wasn’t his first time hearing it. But just like every other time, he hated it. He didn’t think there was a single person around who actually liked hearing Yuuri talk.

“What are you doing here?” Edo’s gaze flicked up and down, left and right, until he spied the younger soldier standing not that far away.

He was far too close to Kurosaki Shun, all things considered, and Edo started to reach for his deck again.

Yuuri raised one hand. “As I said, no need for that. Though if you really want to be stubborn, then it would just make what I want that much easier.” A smile slid across his features, sly and sweet and sarcastic. “You don’t really think a traitor could stand up to me, do you?”

Edo’s lips pressed together. He’d not for a moment suspected that seeing Yuuri here was in any way good. “What are you doing here?” Edo repeated, wanting answers.

If he could stretch it out a little, keep Yuuri here until some of the others arrived, then maybe…

He may or may not stand a chance in a duel but Edo suspected the principles of entertainment dueling could stretch far enough to deal with Yuuri, whose idea of entertainment involved pain, shrieks, and terror for everyone who wasn’t him.

“Oh, didn’t I tell you? Everyone already knows about your little mass defection.” Yuuri smiled that dangerous smile of his. “The Professor really doesn’t care though.”

That sent another warning chill through Edo. He refused to twitch an inch in reaction. Yuuri had to want more than that.

“That doesn’t tell me what I asked.”

Yuuri nodded solemnly. His main focus hadn’t left Kurosaki for a second. “I suppose it doesn’t.” He took a step closer. “Let me tell you this much. No one cares. I could card all of you or I could let you go. The Professor has so much else that he’d rather do than worry himself about all of you.”

“So why are you here, then? Surely you’ve got better things you could do.” Edo didn’t trust that smile, didn’t trust the way Yuuri kept too much of his attention on Kurosaki, a possessive tilt to his lips.

“Because you have something that I want, and I’m going to take it.” Yuuri chuckled softly, reaching out to rest his hand on the healing pod. “And you’re not going to complain about it.”

Edo took two quick steps, a low growl sliding between his teeth. “You’re wrong about that!” He’d made a promise and he wasn’t going to let it be broken.

“I don’t think I am.” Something flickered and Edo’s attention followed a sudden line of something falling.

It was a card, he realized, the thought trailing along a heartbeat later. The card fell face-up and his heart froze in the moment it took him to realize just whose face that was.

When the Professor first began to build his army at Academia, he’d started at various orphanages, choosing the children there and bringing them together. They’d had few ties to anyone, and most of those who they did ended up at the Academia as well.

But when Edo joined, he’d not only left his closest friend behind, but his father as well. He’d never known his mother; his father told him that she’d passed away shortly after his birth. It hadn’t been Edo’s fault, Mr. Phoenix assured him over and over, but simply an accident, and he’d come to accept that.

And now he saw his father’s face staring up at him from the card.

It shouldn’t be. This shouldn’t be. He’d talked to his father only a few days before. Everything had been fine then.

Only now there was that gentle face, that had seemed ever so faintly disappointed in him over the last few months as he’d risen higher in the army and made his debut as Commander-in-Chief.

“Father...” He murmured for a heartbeat before his eyes jerked back to Yuuri. “What did you do? You said...”

Yuuri waved one hand casually. “I said that it didn’t matter to the Professor. And it doesn’t. So he doesn’t care if I do this. I’ve already finished my duties for him anyway.” That demonic smile flickered back into being. “So now I get to have some fun for myself.”

Edo’s stomach sloshed and tightened in terror. He worked as hard as he could to keep himself focused. He could guess what Yuuri meant. He just didn’t want to.

Another card fluttered down. Edo’s heart twisted even farther to see a spill of night-black hair and a pair of calm, wise eyes looking back up at him. His breath froze in his throat.

Part of him cursed Sakaki Yuuya for showing him how much different everything could be, should have been. If he hadn’t listened, if he hadn’t chosen this different path, then he wouldn’t be here now, seeing the faces of those he loved the most staring back at him like this.

They wouldn’t be vulnerable to someone like Yuuri.

“You’re not going to argue with what I want, are you?” Yuuri questioned. “What does it mean to you, anyway?” That mocking smile wasn’t going anywhere. Edo hadn’t ever realized how much he could genuinely hate such a smile. It mocked everything he’d believed in his life, Academia or otherwise. “I’ll take him and you can continue to put this broken toy of a world back together, until the Professor finishes his plan, and you’re all disposed of, one way or another. Do you understand?”

Edo’s nails dug so hard into his palms he could feel trickles of blood working their way through. “I’m not going to let you have him.” He bit the words off cold and hard. He couldn’t do this. Trading lives was something that those of Academia did. Something they thought was easy and fun. He refused to be a part of that anymore.

More of that horrid anticipation worked its way through him. If Yuuri had his father and Mizuchi already sealed like this, then what else did he have?

Who else did he have?

Edo didn’t have to ask the question out loud, not when Yuuri would be more than happy to answer it regardless. He raised one hand and a third card gleamed there.

“I thought that’s what you say,” he murmured, and flipped the card around.

Saiou Takuma, brilliant waterfall of evening-blue hair and eyes of a violet so rich that Edo thought amethysts would envy him stared from this last card, the last person that Edo truly cared about in all the worlds.

And Yuuri did not let go of it.

He said nothing else. What he did was take hold of Saiou’s card by the top and bend it. Not tear, only bend, but it was warning enough. Edo reached out, paler than he’d ever been before.

Edo couldn’t let that happen. It didn’t matter if anyone would ever forgive him for letting Yuuri have what he wanted. He’d never forgive himself if he let Saiou be destroyed like that.

He swallowed, reaching, a few empty steps in between them, but Yuuri easily kept his distance.

“What was that you said?” Yuuri taunted, fingers still in position to tear. “I think you said something about giving me what I want?”

Edo pressed his teeth against his lower lip. He wanted the others to come back. If they did, then Yuuri might be distracted enough for him to take Saiou’s card back. If he had the card, then all the power would be on his side.

But there weren’t any other sounds. Just the two of them, and Yuuri’s burgeoning smile of triumph.

“Why do you want him?” Edo asked, grasping for any extra time he could. Yuuri sniffed.

“Everyone needs toys of some kind,” he said. “This is the toy that I want.”

“He’s hurt,” Edo pointed out. “That’s why he’s in there. He’s getting better, but he’s in no shape for you to play with.”

Yuuri laughed, a sound that called back too many echoes to Edo’s mind, of hearing Sakaki Yuuya laugh. They did more than look alike, Edo realized. They sounded alike too, voices that could have been that of brothers.

“I did notice where he is. But I take very good care of my toys. I hate it when they break too soon.” Yuuri’s fingers tightened on the card just a tiny bit more and Edo thought he saw a tear appearing.

There wasn’t any more time to delay, to bargain, or do anything. He steeled himself, ready to hate himself from this moment on.

“How do you intend to get him out of here? He’ll wake up if I open the tube.”

“Not for a while yet. I can keep him under control until we’re home. He’s certainly in no condition to fight me.” Yuuri pointed out. He gestured with a jerk of his head. “Open it. Now.”

Edo reminded himself that he did this because he wasn’t going to let someone he cared about be torn apart in Yuuri’s hands. That was something he hadn’t mentioned to Yuuya and the others: any card torn apart, shredded in any fashion, meant that the person in that card died.

He’d seen it happen before. He couldn’t let it happen again.

Kurosaki can be rescued, he told himself as he began the sequence to open the tube. If he tears Saiou’s card, he’s gone forever. And Yuuri would still find a way to take what he wanted.

As much as he justified it to himself, it still hurt to do this. Perhaps it hurt even more to justify it.

Yuuri kept hold of Saiou’s card even as the tube opened, mist pouring out, and he stepped closer to Kurosaki, possessiveness in every line of himself. Somehow he kept it even when he had Kurosaki lifted over one shoulder.

Then he casually tossed it toward Edo. “They screamed your name, you know. When I carded them. It was the last thing on their lips.”

Edo dived for the cards, scooping all three into his hands, heart racing. He wanted to hear no more. He wanted Yuuri gone, once and for all.

He wanted a chance to warn people about what had happened. As important as stopping the Professor’s plans were, Edo could not bring himself to just let someone be Yuuri’s prisoner as well. If he had to, he would take care of it himself.

Yuuri turned toward him, eyes bright with anticipation, one hand resting on Kurosaki’s back. “You’d better be a very good boy. I’d really rather not have to take those cards back from you.” He moved the fingers of one hand in a motion that was somewhat a wave and yet reeked of far more mockery than anything that Edo could remember seeing.

Another card appeared between his fingers; Edo had just time enough to read it: Violet Flash. Energy every bit as bright as the sun flashed, and when Edo could see again, he was the only one in the room. The pod remained, open and empty, and in his hands there rested those three cards.

Edo wanted to get back to Fusion, to collect a team and mount a rescue mission. Yuuri’s last words echoed in his mind as soon as he thought of that. The cards might be safe in his hands now, but if there was one person in all four dimensions who could change that, who could extract revenge at a moment’s notice, no matter the defenses put up against him, Yuuri was that person.

What he wanted to do and what he could do and what he should do tangled up in his head and his heart, his fingers pressed against the cards, and the sun rose, and he had explanations to make that he’d never thought he would.

The End

Notes: Some day I may write a sequel. That day is not today.

[marveloverthinker]

Shadowrun San Antonio: The Burrito Run

Angels wept as Ryan walked the soaked streets of San Antonio.

His eyes flicked to them as he strode, the odd statues that had been built during the Aztlan war, part protest, part memorial, part fortification. The older folks swore that, in times of need, the Angels would strike to defend their turf, or some rot like that. But for now, rain gathered in their wings and flowed down their faces, like tears from a forgotten time. The scene was only slightly ruined by street vendors who shouted, for all to hear, about how their tamales were better than anything you could get on the other side of town.

Ryan took a seat at one such cart, balancing precariously on the rickety stool as a Tejana Ork woman, her deaths mask exquisitely painted, swayed over to him to take his order. “The regular, gringo?”

He grinned. “Double, if you'd be so kind, Marta. I won't be alone for long.”

The eyes narrowed, crinkling the paint around her eyes. “You know I don't like you doing business here. This is a clean establishment.”

“So Pablo over there assures me,” Ryan said with a touch of sarcasm, giving a nod to a cat that sprawled just within the shelter of the cart's canopy, gorging itself on a freshly caught rat.

Marta tsked through her tusks, a sound Ryan found fascinating. “From the Sewers, of course. Pablo does well with vermin. Like you.”

“Peace, Senora. No haggling or rough talk, I promise. Just a little food before heading elsewhere.”

Marta considered this, then the E-pesos Ryan offered her, which she finally took. “Fine, but if your bendejo friend makes a move on my Maria like the last guy…”

Guys were always making moves on Maria. Her bright eyes and sweet laugh caught attention, her grace held it, and her goblinoid heritage had taken the latina tradition of curves to a whole new level of enticing. Ryan chuckled. “She can handle herself, Marta…”

“That will be Senora Diaz to you, and any bendejo you bring by here, so long as you are on the job. It's passed time you gave up running shadows, anyway. We mourn enough dead boys as it is.”

Ryan simply sighed and waited as Marta started rolling the burritos, smiling a bit as she stuffed a little extra into his. Brusque though she could be, she had always complained that he was too skinny, elf or no.

There was a scraping noise as the stool next to him was pulled up, and he glanced over with a bit of a grin as a Stetson was placed on the Countertop, still dripping rain. “Nash,” he said in greeting.

“Ryan,” came the reply, heavy with classic Texan drawl. “Sorry I'm late. Took forever to find a dry place to tie up Annie.”

“It happens,” Ryan answered. “I already ordered. Hope you like burritos. And if you don't, keep it to yourself, because Marta's in a special mood.”

“Mierda.” Marta swore as she approached. “You never said who was coming.”

“Miss me, Marta?” Nash drawled, knuckling his forehead. “It's been awhile.”

“I should kick you both out now,” Marta said as she put the plates in front of them. “Two elves at a Ork cart. People will talk, and it will make trouble. You two can just disappear, but Maria's a good girl, deep down, and…”

“And yet, people talk anyway. Easy, mama. Nash. Ryan.” Ryan turned on his stool to see Maria swaying towards them, her usual skirts traded for faux-leather jeans and and a subtly armored jacket. “Don't eat too much, now. You know it makes you sleepy.”

“Pura Mierda,” Marta retorted. “They're both of them too skinny. How they do what they do without any more meat is…”

“A trade secret, ma'am,” Nash said, putting his stetson on as he stood. “We'd better roll, don't you think?”

Ryan sighed, swallowed down a few bites of the burrito (they really were among the best in town, and that was saying something) and then stood with a resigned nod. The three turned as one and walked back into the rain, ignoring Marta's muttering as it faded into the noise of the droplets all around them.

They made quite a scene, the three of them. Maria, graceful as a flamenco dancer with just enough deadly to keep people from staring too long. Nash, his boots, belt buckle, duster and stetson making him look like something of the Tri-D, and Ryan himself, looking just like he had when he got off the train from Seattle, complete with piercings, tattoos, and hair that stayed spiked despite the best efforts of the rain.

As odd a group as any Ryan had ever run with, but after three years of successful(ish) running, practically family, including the overbearing, mildly abusive aunt.

“So what is it tonight?” Maria asked as they turned a corner. “Hovercar, refitted aerial drone, or are you finally gonna let me take Annie for a ride?”

“Never,” Nash said, simply, and then blinked as his eyes went out of focus. Ryan hated that. Most riggers closed their eyes, but this… even though it mattered not at all to how Nash worked, it sure looked creepy. “Annie's mine. Today we go old school.” Even as he spoke, a rickety old van pulled up alongside them, tires splashing water from the street in every direction. Ryan climbed right in, but Maria sighed.

“Just once,” she complained as she followed, “I'd like to go to a job with some style…”

——

The red and blue lights sparkled in the rain droplets that clung stubbornly to the van's rearview window. Maria snapped the gum in her mouth as she rolled down her window, flashing a smile at the Troll who shined a light into the van's interior. “What seems to be the problem, officer?”

The Troll frowned, and opened its mouth hesitantly. “Vehicle not… not authorized. Old plates. No… wireless? Identification.” The words were slow and plodded, even for a Troll. Not an English speaker then… a recent recruit, from the capitol by his accent. Maria grinned at him. “What? Oh, sweetie, I been driving this heap for years now. I'm sure it can't be a problem.”

“Problem…” the Troll retorted, likely in way of disagreement. He pulled up a retinal scanner. “Will need SIN, and…”

Suddenly the lights on the patrol car went dark, and the sudden change gave the brief appearance of near perfect blackness inside the van before normal eyes could recover. The Troll barely had a moment to look to his vehicle before he froze at the sensation of a shotgun stuck in his back.

“You're new, huh? Well here's the deal, tusky…”

“Watch your mouth…” Maria called from the passenger seat, but Ryan refused to be distracted. “You can live a good long life in your line of work, or in this town, but never both, you got me? Or should I have the girl inside translate for you?”

The Troll glanced back to the van, where Maria had an SMG aimed up into his nostril. “I'll make sure he does.” She said sweetly, before a stream of Spanish talked the Troll gently through the process of climbing into the back of the Van with his hands behind his back.

Seeing she had the situation under control, Ryan rushed over to the squad car, where Nash was sitting, apparently all blank, in the front seat. “Any response?”

“His personal comms are run through the car. Our Sergeant… Martinez… has just reported some drugged out hippies, and run their data. They'll report back SINless and he'll be ordered to bring them in.”

“How long?”

“Ten minutes. The bottleneck on the info line to the computers at the Capitol makes their response time trash out here. You'd almost think Aztlan wasn't planning on staying.”

“I wish,” Ryan muttered, receiving an answering nod from Nash as he went to collect Maria. Ten minutes bought them time, widened the window a fraction. Popping open the van's rear doors, he awkwardly started changing into an Aztlan military uniform. —-

“Ten seconds and counting.”

Ryan rushed down the hallway, ignoring the shouts coming from behind him, all of them in the clipped Spanish of the Aztlani Capitol. The occupation government sent in more of them every day, it seemed, and yet San Antonio remained beautifully, gloriously, Tejano. Remembering the cultural mongrel that was the Seattle Metroplex, Ryan could only count that a victory, so long as he could keep breathing.

“Five seconds.” his earpiece chirped. Ryan grimaced. He didn't need the countdown, but wasted no breath informing Maria of that. No word from Nash, either, but Ryan didn't let that bother him. The car was either there, or not. Outside, he heard the squeal of tires on wet pavement, and grinned.

The doors burst open as Ryan hurled himself through them, gun already out and firing at the Van that tore away from the building. “Vamanos!” He shouted at the gate guards, who were staring at both him and the van, startled. “Saboteador!” From one of the windows of the van, a startled troll looked at him, then roared, firing with a sidearm. Ryan winced as one shot ricocheted dangerously near to him, then dove to a nearby military car, which picked him up and took of after the van, in hot pursuit.

Nash sat at the wheel, staring blankly ahead as Maria grinned at him from her hiding place in the back. Her lips mouthed the words, “dos… uno…”

And an explosion ripped the checkpoint apart behind them.

The radio burst to life, howling for all units to pursue the saboteur. Ryan took some shots from his open window, causing the Troll to duck his head again.

“Can I look, yet?” Maria asked from the backseat. Ryan growled.

“We've still got our friends all around us. Nash, how long?”

“Now. Hold on, Maria.”

The squib went off, and the car spun out as the other pursuit vehicles carefully wheeled around it, not even bothering to look back as they traded shots with the enraged Troll in the backseat. Ryan took a moment before moving… with the explosion, response to a single blown car would be slow.

Maria finally looked up and laughed at the pillar of fire and smoke that now rose in a bright pillar over southern San Antonio. Already, the Aztlan military was arriving, being informed of the situation by the cars now in high speed pursuit. Suddenly Nash blinked, then glanced over at him. They all got out of the car as one, easing their way down into the floodway that would lead them all the way back to the barrio.

“How'd it go inside?” Nash asked. Ryan just smiled, then held up the heavy cartridge. It would be a payday, after all. —-

The talking head blinked through the rain that fell through her tri-d image as she gave the report, her lips oddly out of sync due to the automated translation.

“Aztlani authorities have blamed the explosion on faulty gas lines running through the city, while local utilities workers have claimed no knowledge of any such faults. Investigations go apace, but given the usual reticence of the Occupation force to give details on such issues, it is possible that…”

Marta brought over three plates of tacos to place on the counter. “I heard two cops say that it was sabotage. Some rogue Troll, based on the reports over the band.”

Maria shrugged, taking one of the tacos and eating it voraciously. Nash shrugged as he shot his tequila back. “I heard that the troll was a captured occupation soldier himself, claims to have been kidnapped by an elf and a ork.”

“I've heard…” Ryan said, mouth full of taco, “that one of the cars in pursuit got taken out in the chase. The car was found, but with no sign of the two elves inside it. They might be insiders, but no one knows. All in car video feeds looped old footage… of the troll.”

“You are all too clever by half…” Marta said through her glower. “Eventually, those imbecil will learn who has been jerking them around, and when they do…”

Ryan sighed, and keyed up a credstick, which he slotted at the counter. The tip indicator gave a little ring, and Marta gasped as quite a lot of e-pesos flooded into her account.

“For the service, senora,” Ryan said as he took his leave. “Hasta la vista.”

[freenewstoday]

New Post has been published on https://freenews.today/2021/02/11/cubans-study-a-shrinking-list-of-banned-private-enterprises/

Cubans Study a Shrinking List of Banned Private Enterprises

HAVANA — Car dealerships, book publishing and hedge funds are still prohibited. Bed-and-breakfasts are not. Zoos, scuba diving centers and weapons production remain banned. Veterinary services aren’t.

As Cuba’s Communist government continues its piecemeal expansion of the fledgling private sector, Cubans are carefully parsing a list of the economic activities that the government proposes to keep under its control.

The list, published on Wednesday and labeled as provisional, contains 124 activities that would remain forbidden to private enterprise. It would keep the country’s most powerful and productive sectors under the dominion of the state, including those employing many of the most highly educated and highly trained professionals, such as medicine and health care, education, media and construction-related trades like architecture and engineering.

Several days before making the much-anticipated list public, the government announced that it would greatly expand the number of economic activities open to private enterprise — which has been constrained by a different list, of 127 allowed types of businesses — in an effort to create jobs, open new markets and revive the economy. The news could promise a vast opening of the economy, elevating hope and expectations across Cuba.

The new list seems to open major new space for manufacturing. Cubans will now be able to apply for licenses to open cheese, paint and toy factories, for example, though the government has not yet defined the permitted size of such ventures.

While some Cubans hailed the list as an important step forward in the country’s economic liberalization, it left others complaining that the government had not gone far enough.

“It’s messed up,” said Gerardo Guillén García del Barco, 26, an architect in Havana whose profession the government plans to maintain under its sole control. “Every time something appears that looks like a panacea, it ends in nothing.”

“My dream is to do exactly what I’m doing today but within a legal framework,” he said, explaining that he left a government firm and now works freelance without a license. “I want to do my own architecture without being hindered by bureaucracy.”

The changes have been partly driven by dire necessity. Cuba’s long-stagnant economy contracted 11 percent in 2020, as the Trump administration tightened U.S. sanctions on the island and the pandemic halted tourism, the country’s economic lifeblood, leaving the government bereft of foreign currency for imports.

Through a series of reforms over the past decade, the number of Cubans working in the private sector — so-called cuentapropistas — has almost tripled, to about 600,000. But they have worked mainly in occupations confined to the service sector, including running restaurants and bed-and-breakfasts or driving taxis.

Last Saturday, in announcing the planned expansion of private economic activity, Marta Elena Feitó, Cuba’s labor and social security minister, said that the changes would “unleash the productive forces” of the population.

Many Cubans have been hoping that the reforms would address a glaring paradox: The best-educated and most highly skilled members of the work force are in government-controlled jobs and are often paid less than lower-skilled workers in fields already open to private enterprise. Tour guides, waitresses and taxi drivers can make more than surgeons, engineers and scientists, a distortion that former President Raúl Castro called “the unjust inverted pyramid.”

The state’s monopoly on so many occupations — a strategy to maintain political control and to guarantee social services for the population — has driven many highly trained workers out of the public sector and into the nascent private sector, where they take jobs for which they are overqualified. Others go abroad in pursuit of higher earnings.

Ricardo Torres, an economist at the Center for the Study of the Cuban Economy in Havana, said he had a mixed reaction to the list of restricted economic activities published this week.

He was disappointed that it precluded private enterprise in certain sectors including engineering, architecture, accounting and the digital economy.

At the same time, he said, it appeared to open “many areas” to private sector activity, including certain forms of manufacturing and some professional services, including economic consultancies, advertising and graphic design.

“It’s an important step forward,” he said.

The government did not go farther, he said, to protect against the possibility of a mass exodus of poorly paid professionals from the state sector.

“If you open the whole economy to the private sector, eventually it will become dominant,” Mr. Torres said. “The government wants to avoid this.”

But Omar Everleny Pérez, an economist and former professor at the University of Havana, said that the narrow opportunities the list left for the nation’s professional class would not stem the country’s brain drain.

“If professionals can’t see themselves in Cuba doing private activity, the only path left for them is to go abroad,” he said. “And this has been going on for a long time: architects, mathematicians, biologists, they go.”

Expanding the private sector was first enshrined in the Communist Party’s “guidelines” in 2007. Then-President Raúl Castro said that the “updating” of the island’s socialist model should proceed “without hurry but without delay.”

But despite Mr. Castro’s insistence, the reforms were halting, in part because his brother, Fidel Castro — retired but still powerful — opposed them. Following Fidel Castro’s death in 2016, senior Communist Party policymakers continued to delay the reforms, arguing that such moves would engender greater inequality.

In recent months, however, the economic crisis has forged consensus within the party leadership, to the delight of much of the population.

“Many people say, ‘Why not do it faster?’” said Mr. Pérez, the economist. “I’m in that group.”

“But it’s clear that things are advancing,” he said. “They’re not going backward.”

Analysts said that while the expansion of the private sector suggested a loosening of the government’s grip on the economy, it did not mean the state was about to fully embrace capitalism.

“I think Cuba is going to advance along a road that is more or less the Vietnam model,” Mr. Pérez said. “It’s not going to be an end to socialism.”

As for the possibility that private sector expansion will spur inequality, Mr. Pérez said it seemed inevitable, but he also expected the Cuban government to step in with its social safety net.

“There’s inequality, and there will be inequality,” he said. “I think there has to be recognition that the state will help those who are left behind.”

Taken together with other moves to restructure the Cuban economy, such as the recent legalization of import and export for the private sector, analysts said, the latest reforms could have a positive bearing on Cuban-United States relations, which chilled considerably as the Trump administration took a hard-line approach to the Caribbean nation.

“The United States in general and the government in particular looks favorably on the expansion of private activity,” Mr. Torres said. “And this, in a way, for me, creates a more favorable environment in which relations can be rebuilt.”

Ed Augustin reported from Havana, and Kirk Semple from Mexico City.

Source

[avi-stella]

Changes | Zen/Hyun Ryu x Reader

RATING: General | WORD COUNT: 2,461 | GENRE: Slice-of-life/Fluff SUMMARY: You move to a new city and make a new friend. NOTE: My part of a trade with @marcellebun. I apologize for the wait, and I hope it's to your liking. Thank you for trading with me!

Breathing out a dragged out and relieved sigh, you set down the last of your boxes on the living room floor. Turning on your heel, you shut the door before moving to plop yourself down on a chair and glance out the window, the sight completely new to you. You had just moved to a new city, excited to start a new life.

The apartment you would now be living in was small, but comfy and affordable. Fishing through your pockets, you take out your phone and decide to check up on your social media. Hopefully you would be able to get the Wi-fi up and running soon so that you didn't have to rely on your device's data, but you'll make do with this right now.

A grateful smile etches itself onto your lips as you scroll through the different heartfelt messages of your friends that you left behind in your old city. Your heart makes a numb and subtle pang. Even if you were excited to start your life anew, you couldn't deny the creeping loneliness of the unfamiliar city.

Turning your attention back towards the window, you can see just how bright and sunny it is outside. Your gaze falls towards all the boxes that need to be unpacked, and you decide that outside seems much more tempting. With a small grunt, you stand up from your seat and head towards the washroom to freshen yourself up before going to explore your new and vast city.

In truth, it's a bit overwhelming at first. It's much more crowded and noisy than you're used to, and even though you were just wandering around to get a feel for the area, perhaps it would have been better if you actually planned where you wanted to go. Your eyes lazily scan your surroundings and happen to fall upon a quaint café. Almost as if on cue, your stomach rumbles at the promise of some delectable sweets, and you simply can't ignore it.

Upon entering the café, you're immediately greeted by the scent of coffee and baked goods, the atmosphere light and friendly. Smiling to yourself, you go ahead to order a drink and small snack before taking an empty seat. Taking your time with your snack, you scroll through your phone as the idle buzz and chatter of the café continues on around you.

You're just checking up on some of the latest news when you hear the chair across from you scrape on the floor, prompting you to look up. A young man you've never seen before smiles sweetly at you as he takes off his sunglasses and places them atop the table, revealing one of the most piercing red eyes you've ever seen before in your life.

"I'm sorry I'm late," the male apologizes, his voice just as smooth as his silvery-white hair.

For a moment, you're merely stunned silent at the fact that someone so striking was sitting in front of you and talking with you. Then his words finally registers in your mind, and your features slowly start to melt to one of confusion. Seeing this, the young man leans forward, almost desperate, and brings his voice down low to an urging whisper. "Please play along with me."

Before you can respond, a new and frankly annoying voice pitches in, a gaudy-looking woman appearing beside your table. "Zen! I could use some more practice of our kiss scene. Won't you help me with it?"

You see something akin to that of annoyance flicker through the male's expression, but it's quickly gone that you're not even sure you saw it properly. Nevertheless, you more or less understand the situation.

The young man, Zen, flashes the woman a charming smile that inadvertently affects you just as much as the other female. "I'm sorry, but I've already made plans with my friend," Zen apologizes, gesturing towards you. You take that as your cue to play along and offer a small smile and nod. Nodding himself, Zen continues, "Maybe some other time."

The woman's gaze shifts between you and Zen, and seemingly coming to some strange and unknown conclusion herself, she concedes. "Okay then! Maybe later tonight? Call me."

With a backwards flick of her hair, the woman turns and leaves the café, leaving you very confused. Zen brings his attention back to you, bowing his head low. "Sorry about all that, and thank you."

"It's no problem," you reply with a light shrug of your shoulders.

"I'm Zen, by the way," the young man formally introduces himself, and you reciprocate with your own introduction. "I feel really bad for just using you like that. Is there any way I can make it up to you?"

Usually, you would have declined such an offer, but it wasn't every day you managed to meet someone so good-looking, and you were still unfamiliar with the area. "If it's not too much trouble, I would appreciate it if you showed me around the city."

Zen's eyebrows shoot up at your response, and he cocks his head to the side. "Are you new here?"

"Yes, I just moved in today," you answer bashfully and take the last remaining sips of your drink. "So how about it?"

"I would be honoured," he beams, standing up and offering his hand for you.

To your pleasant surprise, Zen makes for a really great and fun guide. He's quite considerate, you realize, matching his pace with yours and making sure that you don't get lost or separated but still maintaining a respectable distance. He does take an awful amount of selfies however, but his good-mannered humour makes up for it.

By the time evening falls with the sky painted several warm shades, both you and Zen part ways, but not before exchanging contact information. It seems as though you both enjoyed each other's company, and Zen ended up becoming your very first friend since moving here.

It took a bit of time, but you eventually manage to fully settle down and become accustomed to your new place. You've met new people, and what was once a foreign setting is now a familiar and welcoming sight. You didn't think that you would have been able to adapt this quickly, but you figure that it was all because of Zen's help.

Zen has been a great friend to you thus far and helping you out whenever he could. The two of you often stay up at night together, chatting on your phones. The musical actor, as you later discovered his occupation, would always sing you a quick lullaby before wishing you a good night. He was your comfort, and before you even realized it, Zen somehow managed to make himself your home.

You turn to lie on your side, hugging the pillow close to your body as your mind wanders off to Zen. It's been happening a lot lately, and although you're afraid to admit it, you realize that you've fallen in love with your friend. Heaving a lovestruck sigh, you retrieve your phone from its resting place and open it up to your social media, wondering if Zen posted anything new.

Due to Zen's career, it was sometimes difficult to meet face-to-face, but thankfully, social media was a saviour. Both you and Zen followed each other on pretty much all platforms and always interacting with each other. It even got to the point that some people started shipping the two of you together. It's an entertaining thought, but you never really have the courage to bring it up with the actor.

Your phone suddenly buzzes to life, causing you to jump in surprise before melting into a smile when you see you've received a text from Zen: "Are you available this weekend?"

"I should be. Why?"

"I want to take you somewhere and spend some time with you. And if you can, wear something nice that you like. It's special."

Your heart skips a beat at the vagueness of his words, uncertain as to what it is exactly that the actor was planning for you, but you're not complaining. The week passes by without anything new happening, and when the weekend finally arrives, you can barely contain your nerves.

When the knock finally arrives at your door, you panic for one quick second. Giving yourself one last final lookover, you answer the door and greet the ever handsome male with a smile. Zen returns it with ease, and after exchanging formalities, guides you outside and towards his motorcycle.

Even though it's not your first time riding on it, those butterflies still appear once more. But then you feel Zen's hand squeeze yours in a reassuring manner, and now those butterflies have increased but for a different reason. You hop onto the motorbike with Zen, winding your arms around his waist before he speeds off to wherever it was he wanted to take you.

Arriving at your presumed destination, you hop off and stare with wide eyes at the sign of the café that you've been wanting to visit for some time now.

"I actually used to work here when I was younger," Zen comments, pulling you out of your trance.

"Did you really?"

The actor nods, a reminiscent look behind his eyes. "Mm-hmm. The owner's my friend and incredibly kind. C'mon, let's go in!"

Without waiting for your response, Zen grabs hold of your hand and drags you along inside, a small thought of how this feels like a date flitting into your mind. When you step inside, the first thing you notice is the grand piano off in the corner of the café before your attention goes back to Zen who seems almost nervous somehow, but you decide against commenting on it.

Your time with the young man in the small place is fun, and it feels great to be able to laugh and joke around with Zen again, catching up with each other. Your eyes wander to the piano once more before it's time for the two of you to leave, the actor having promised that there was one more place he wanted to take you.

"You know, maybe one day I'll let you hear me play the piano!" Zen shouts over the noise of the street and motorcycle, deciding to kill some time with conversation.

"You play?!" You ask, surprised to discover new things about your friend more and more.

"Yeah! I wasn't exactly...'good' with people at the time, so I made money by performing instead."

You grin at the thought and tighten your hold on Zen who seems to tense up the slightest bit from your actions. "I would love to hear you play one day!"

A few more minutes later, the two of you finally arrive at your destination. When you get off, you find Zen holding out a black cloth to you. "I want to put this on you so that it can be a surprise. Do you trust me?" The young man asks, his usual easy-going demeanor being replaced by one of seriousness instead.

"Yes," you answer without missing a beat.

The actor's expression softens at that, and you catch a glimpse of a different kind of warmth than usual behind his eyes before your vision is suddenly obstructed by the soft cloth. Your hand becomes encased in Zen's larger one, and he starts to lead you up what feels like an incline. The trek is quiet throughout, but there's not a hint of awkwardness in the air. Nervousness perhaps, but nothing else uncomfortable.

Once you feel the ground start to level out, Zen lets go of your hand. "Wait here," he tells you, and you offer him a curt nod.

A small breeze brushes your cheeks as you patiently wait for Zen to come back. You feel his warmth appear from behind you, his fingers working through the knot of your blindfold. Taking some time to adjust, you blink your eyes a couple of times before gasping out loud at the beautiful scene in front of you.

You can see the horizon, the city looking so small down belong. Seconds pass by as you admire the sight for as long as you can when Zen's voice fills your ears from behind. He's humming, you realize, but after listening to a few more notes, you finally become aware of what he was humming: your favourite love song.

Immediately, you snap your head back to face the young man, your expression a mixture of surprise, joy, and confusion. The moment the two of you lock eyes together, Zen starts singing. The lyrics he sings are different from the original, but somehow, you find the actor's version to be much better. His words seem to have a deeper meaning behind them, and it touches your heart in ways you never knew was possible.

The song comes to an end, but before you can clap your hands together, Zen takes out a bouquet of your favourite flowers from behind his back. You stand there, completely stunned, and then it clicks. Every single thing that happened today was all about you and what you liked. You're confused on how Zen was able to figure out all of them, but then you remember all those late nights on the phone and all those interactions on social media.

He remembers. Zen remembers each and every single little detail that you've ever revealed to him, and you finally become aware of just how hot your face feels.

The actor clears his throat, preparing himself for what he's about to say as he holds out the bouquet in his hands even more out towards you. "I know it isn't much, but the truth is...while I do enjoy being your friend, I want to be something more than that. I love you—for quite some time now, actually—and I was wondering if you would like to be my girlfriend from now onwards..."

Zen's voice wavers near the end, and you find it incredibly cute with the way he bites at the corner of his lip in anticipation. You don't bother holding back your grin at the actor's confession which honestly seems more like a proposal if you think about it, and you take one step forward and place your hands atop the young man's shaky ones.

"Yes, I would love to."

Your friend—now boyfriend—lets out his breath that he wasn't even aware he was holding before flashing you a bashful smile. A giggle bubbles out of your chest as you go and hug the male, finding it to feel a bit different from your previous hugs. It's somehow much more exciting and full of wonder. Everything seems new yet familiar, but it's a journey you won't be facing alone.

[• Commissions •] Masterlists: Imagines | Oneshots | MysMe Oneshots | Multi-part/Series | NSFW Oneshots | Browse by Tags

[newstfionline]

How Trump Has Reshaped the Presidency, and How It’s Changed Him, Too

By Peter Baker, NY Times, April 29, 2017

WASHINGTON--In his first 100 days in power, President Trump has transformed the nation’s highest office in ways both profound and mundane, pushing traditional boundaries, ignoring longstanding protocol and discarding historical precedents as he reshapes the White House in his own image.

But just as Mr. Trump has changed the presidency, advisers and analysts say it has also changed him. Still a mercurial and easily offended provocateur capable of head-spinning gyrations in policy and politics, Mr. Trump nonetheless at times has adapted his approach to both the job and the momentous challenges it entails.

As Washington pauses to evaluate the opening phase of the Trump presidency, the one thing everyone seems to agree on is that, for better or worse, the capital has headed deep into uncharted territory. On almost every one of these first 100 days, Mr. Trump has done or said something that caused presidential historians and seasoned professionals inside the Beltway to use the phrase “never before.”

He has assumed even more power for the presidency, expanding President Barack Obama’s use of executive orders to offset the inability to pass major legislation and making it more independent of the Washington establishment. He has been more aggressive than any other president in using his authority to undo his predecessor’s legacy, particularly on trade, business regulation and the environment. And he has dominated the national conversation perhaps more thoroughly than any president in a generation.

At the same time, he has cast off conventions that constrained others in his office. He has retained his business interests, which he implicitly cultivates with regular visits to his properties. He has been both more and less transparent than other presidents, shielding his tax returns and White House visitor logs from public scrutiny while appearing to leave few thoughts unexpressed, no matter how incendiary or inaccurate. And he has turned the White House into a family-run enterprise featuring reality-show-style, “who will be thrown off the island?” intrigue.

“His first 100 days is a reflection of how much the presidency has changed,” said Janet Mullins Grissom, a top official in President George Bush’s White House and State Department. “The biggest difference between President Trump and his predecessors is that he is the first president in my political lifetime who comes to the office unbeholden to any special interest for his electoral success, thus immune to typical political pressures.”

In effect, she said, that compensates for a victory he secured in the Electoral College without winning the popular vote. “That gives him as much leverage as someone who won with landslide numbers--and the freedom to govern his way,” she said. “And his voters love him for it.”

Where Washington veterans fret about deviations from past norms, Mr. Trump’s supporters see a president willing to shake things up. Where Washington cares about decorum and process, they want a president fighting for them against entrenched powers.

Yet the crockery-breaking leader has shown signs of evolving. The president operating on Day 100 is not the same as the one who took office in January, when he was determined to make nice with Russia, make trouble for China and make war on elites.

By his own account, Mr. Trump has discovered how much more complicated issues like health care and North Korea are than he realized, and he has cast off some of his most radical campaign promises after learning more about the issues.

“I’m more inclined to say the presidency has changed Trump rather than Trump changed the presidency,” said H.W. Brands, a University of Texas professor who has written biographies of multiple presidents, including Ronald Reagan and both Roosevelts. “He has moderated or reversed himself on most of the positions he took as a candidate. Reality has set in, as it does with every new president.”

All the more so for the first president in American history who had never spent a day in government or the military, and surrounded himself with top advisers who had not either. Although Mr. Trump assumed that his experience in business and entertainment would translate to the White House, he has found out otherwise.

“I never realized how big it was,” he said of the presidency in an interview with The Associated Press. “Every decision,” he added, “is much harder than you’d normally make.”

In a separate interview with Reuters, he said: “This is more work than in my previous life. I thought it would be easier.”

Mr. Trump arrived at the White House unimpressed by conventions that governed the presidency. At first, he blew off the idea of receiving intelligence briefings every day because he was “a smart person” and did not need to hear “the same thing every day.” He telephoned foreign leaders during the transition without consulting or even informing government experts on those countries.

He badgered specific companies on Twitter about moving jobs overseas and called in the chief executive of Lockheed Martin to complain about the cost of the F-35 fighter jet, never mind that presidents typically do not involve themselves in the affairs of individual companies or directly negotiate federal contracts.

Mr. Trump likewise has gleefully taken credit on days that stocks have risen and publicly commented on the strength of the dollar, which presidents generally do not do either, both because it might be viewed as unseemly interference in the markets and because it invites blame when they have a bad day.

His Twitter account, of course, has been the vehicle for all sorts of outbursts that defy tradition, often fueled by the latest segment on Fox News. Presidents rarely taunt reality-show hosts about poor ratings, complain about late-night television comedy skits, berate judges or members of their own party who defy them, trash talk Hollywood stars and Sweden, declare the “fake news” media to be “the enemy of the American people” or accuse the last president of illegally wiretapping them without any proof.

Beyond that, Mr. Trump has been slow to create a structure like those in past administrations. Orders and memos have not always been reviewed by all relevant officials. Meetings are not always attended by key aides who are leery of leaving the president’s side. “The notion of a chain of command is gone,” said David F. Gordon, the State Department director of policy planning under President George W. Bush.

But if the presidency had grown somewhat stale under the old norms as its occupants increasingly stuck to carefully crafted talking points and avoided spontaneity, Mr. Trump has brought back a certain authenticity and willingness to engage. His frequent news conferences and interviews can be bracingly candid, uninhibited, even raw. He leaves little mystery about what is on his mind.

“The 2016 election wasn’t a delicate request to challenge existing traditions; it was a demand that our next president do things different,” said Jason Miller, a top adviser to Mr. Trump during the campaign. “And while the professional political class struggles to understand what has happened to their hold on power, supporters of President Trump--the forgotten men and women he referenced in his Inaugural Address--love the change they’re seeing.”

Presumably Mr. Trump will remain impulsive and even impetuous, but he has also been open to advice. He was talked out of lifting sanctions on Russia, moving the American embassy to Jerusalem, abandoning the “one China” policy, tearing up the Iran nuclear agreement, reversing the diplomatic opening to Cuba, closing the Export-Import Bank, declaring China a currency manipulator and, in recent days, terminating the North American Free Trade Agreement. He may still do some or all of these, but by waiting, he has the opportunity to lay the groundwork rather than act precipitously.

He now receives his intelligence briefings most days. And aides said they had noticed signs of growth in office. Even if Mr. Trump adapts, though, the larger question is whether the institution will ever be the same. Future presidents may feel freer to make unfounded statements, withhold tax returns or keep private business interests without fear of political penalty. Taboos once broken no longer seem inviolable.

Still, Mayor Rahm Emanuel of Chicago, a senior adviser to President Bill Clinton and chief of staff for Mr. Obama, said there might be a backlash once Mr. Trump leaves office. “After Trump, there will be a collective desire to return to tradition,” he predicted. “Whoever comes next will be the anti-Trump in style and character. That’s how it works.”

Karl Rove, the senior adviser to the younger Mr. Bush, agreed. “President Trump will make it difficult for future presidents to step back from the use of social media,” he said, “but it’s very likely the next administration will be more restrained and less personal.�� The next president, he added, will probably deploy social media as a premeditated strategy. “It will be part of a plan, not a method of catharsis.”

Meena Bose, the director of the Peter S. Kalikow Center for the Study of the American Presidency at Hofstra University, said Mr. Trump’s presidency so far seemed unlike almost any other, except perhaps Andrew Jackson’s. She noted that Jackson was seen as erratic at the time but was later evaluated by historians as a near-great president.

“Might the Trump presidency be viewed similarly someday?” she asked. “Difficult to see at the 100-day mark, but that is an artificial measurement, with so much of the presidency still to come.”