#and don’t even talk to me about how he was the knelt government official who Law would ever like but was so afraid of Law hating him

[stygianheart]

Rewatched Dressrosa lately. Completely forgot how depressing Law’s story is and how much I love Corazon. Corazon is just so weird in all the best ways possible and I love him. Fuck Doffy for killing him. I want Corazon back.

And it really, really, REALY killed me when Corazon died. Because Law knew he was going to die. And he was screaming and sobbing his heart out, silently thanks to Corazon’s Devil Fruit Powers. And he knew the exact time Corazon took his last breath because his sobs could suddenly be heard and god darn it, that ripped my delicate little heart out.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

FORTY FOUR - THE HARD STUFF

LEGACY: A Tony Stark Daughter Story

MASTERLIST

< previous

Word Count: 2,150ish

Summary: Bailey tries to understand her place in the whole Accords situation while trying to be there for both Tony and Steve.

~~~

I was still sobbing into my knees against the fence line when Tony left the common room and went looking for me. When he couldn’t find me in my room, the lab, or the training room, FRIDAY finally informed him of my whereabouts when he was just about to call for a search party. I heard a suit flying towards me, but didn’t bother to lift my head from my knees. I knew it was Tony and I knew why he was coming. He landed and immediately knelt down in front of me, his helmet disappearing into his suit.

“Kid,” worry was in every bit of his tone, “What are you doing all the way out here? What’s wrong?”

“I know about the Accords,” I whispered, still not lifting my head up. 

“What? How?”

“It’s not that hard to break into the security room. I saw the whole meeting with Secretary Ross and even some of what followed.” 

“Why did you—“

I snapped my head up and began to frustratedly wipe away my tears. “Vision told me that you didn’t want me at the meeting. So I decided to take matters into my own hands. You want me on a list?”

Tony shook his head quickly. “You’re miss understanding the situation—“

“And General Ross believes that there are more enhanced beings here than just Wanda. I’ve sensed it. And if he finds out the truth, if the Accords go through, I will be one of the first people on the registry. Do you really want to risk that?”

“No, of course not! I won’t let that happen. They won’t be able to get to you.” He went to rest a reassuring hand on my knee, but I moved away.

“But then that would be breaking the Accords, wouldn’t it? Since I’m pretty sure you’ve already signed them.” I swiftly stood up and began pacing, trying to control the growing anger in me.

“It’s not breaking them if you’re not in the public eye. Like 3 people outside this compound know who you really are and what you’re capable of, and I know that they won’t rat you out. You will not be put on the registry. I promise.”

“What is the point of you signing the Accords if you are just going to turn around and break them? Huh?” He didn’t answer, so I took a deep breath and continued on. “Be honest with me… You were never going to let me become an official member of the team, were you?”

“Bailey, I—“

“I know, I know. You’re just trying to protect me, you were going to tell me when the time was right. Blah, blah, blah… I’ve heard it all before! But I can protect myself. Do you know what I need more than protection? I need a father. A father who trusts me, who has faith and believes in me. A father who cares about my wants, my desires, my needs. Who will cheer me on and support me. And I need my family. The Accords will tear my family apart. Can’t you see that? The only true family I have ever known will be gone. Please, Dad, find another way. There has to be another way.”

“I’m sorry.” He quickly grabbed my hand. “I really am. I’m just doing what I believe is right.”

“I don’t need to hear an apology. I need you to show me that you’re sorry. And to keep my family together. I can’t bare to lose them. Any of them. Haven’t we all been through enough?” I took a deep breath once again, gaining the courage to hopefully get him where I wanted him. Where I believed he needed to be. “Haven’t I been through enough?”

He looked down and then nodded. I stared at him until he finally looked me in the eyes. “I will do my best to keep everyone together. But I can’t make the choice for others.” He took a deep breath. “I’m needed in Vienna in three days to help ratify the Accords.” He put one of his suited hands on my cheek. “I’m going to keep you off the list and everyone together, I promise.”

“I wish I could believe you,” I whispered.

“You can… You can.” 

I watched him in silence for a moment, trying so hard not to peek into his thoughts. I so very badly wanted to know what exactly was going through his head. I also wanted him to ask about my full thoughts on the Accords, but that might be putting too much faith in him. Tony finally looked at me again and spoke up. 

“Now enough government talk. I want to spend time with my favorite daughter. Come on,” He said grabbing me by the waist, “Let’s go eat some ice cream.” I wanted to fight him more on this, but I knew it was pointless. He was done with the conversation so there was no point in continuing. His mask shut and we lifted off. The roof to the lab opened up and we landed in it. He set me down and then his suit opened up. “So what flavor of ice cream do we want tonight?”

“Cookies and Cream. Can I change and shower real quick though? I trained a bit before everything, and I’m beginning to smell.”

“That’s what that smell is? Make it quick, kid.” He sent me a wink.

I let out a laugh as I jogged off to my room. I sprinted up the stairs and then down the hall. I slowed down when I noticed that my bedroom door was open. I remember closing it when I left it last. I carefully peaked around the corner, wondering who could possibly be in there. Steve was sitting there on my bed. I could sense a strong sadness in him.

“Steve?” I questioned as I walked in, “What’s wrong? What are you doing in here?” 

He quickly stood up. “I— um—“ He nervously paused, “I was just— just coming in to check on you.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah?” I didn’t fully believe him. “Is this about the Accords?”

“I know you overheard what happened in the conference room. I just wanted to hear how you are feeling about… well, about everything.”

“Oh—“ I started pulling clothes out of my dresser, “I— I do believe that the Avengers need to be put in check. But I don’t believe that enhanced people should be put on a list.”

“I don’t trust the government to be able to put us in check.”

“I know, Steve, I know. I don’t either. But the Accords are going to be ratified no matter what and then I’ll really never be able to leave this compound again. It’s not like I’ve ever really been able to leave anyway, but whatever. Plus it doesn’t matter what I think, because I’m a nobody. I’m not an official member of the team, so I’m not allowed to choose whether to sign the Accords or not sign them, and I’m not publicly known as Tony’s daughter. My opinion doesn’t matter.” 

Steve came up to me from behind, put a hand on my waist and turned me around. “Your opinion always matters to me. And you are definitely not a nobody.”

“You were right though…”

“About what?”

“If they find out my abilities, they’d run tests on me.”

“I wouldn’t ever let that happen.” He brushed some hair out of my face. “I will always keep you safe. They won’t be able to hurt you… Remember my promise?”

“Of course,” I whispered. “You promised to protect me and that you’d always keep the promises you’d make to me.” I sighed. “You won’t always be able to keep them though…”

“I’ll do my hardest to try.”

He lovingly pulled me into a kiss. My hands found their way to his neck to keep him close. His arms held me close to him like this could be the last time he would ever held me. I pulled back when I felt I tear on my cheek, and I knew it wasn’t mine. Something else was definitely up. I could feel it, but I didn’t want to search is mind to find out the truth. I wanted to hear it from his lips.

“Steve?” I tried to get him to look at me. “Steve, what’s wrong?”

“It’s Peggy.” That’s all I needed to hear. I knew what he was going to say. She was gone.

“I’m so sorry Steve.” I wrapped my arms around him. “I’m so sorry. What can I do?”

“I don’t know… The funeral’s in London, in a few days. I’m flying out in the morning. I… I wish that I could take you with me. I don’t think I can do this without you.”

“I wish that I could go with you as well, Steve. And you aren’t doing anything without me. I’m always a phone call away and always in here.” I put a finger on his chest, right above his heart. “I’m always right here.”

“Thank you.” He gently kissed my head. “I should go pack.”

“Yeah, Tony’s waiting for me down in the lab.”

“I love you.” He gave me a quick kiss.

“I love you too.” I caught his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze as he turned to walk away. 

He walked out with a sadness about him that I had never felt, especially from him. He really did love her. It was a different love than the one we shared, and I couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing. 

I hurried into my bathroom and turned on the shower. I put on some music and turned it all the way up. I was rocking in that shower. It was always a good way for me to clear my head and relax a little. I jammed to two songs and then got out when I figured that Tony was probably done waiting for me. I quickly put my hair up in a bun and got some exercise leggings and a sweatshirt on. I skipped down hall and all the way into the lab. I swung open the door and Tony looked up from his computer screens. 

“What took you so long?” He asked.

“Oh, I was talking to Steve. He stopped by to tell me that he’s heading to London tomorrow,” I answered. 

Tony looked back at the screens and continued to move things around. “What for?” 

“Personal reasons,” I lied. Part of me knew that Tony would want to know about Agent Carter’s death, but I didn’t want to be the one to break it to him.

“You and Rogers seem really close these days. Practically attached at the hip.”

“We’re just friends,” I quickly tried to shrug him off. 

Tony glanced up at me from over at his workstation. I could tell he was starting to get suspicious. He looked back down at his screens.

“I don’t think he sees it that way,” he muttered.

“What makes you think that?” I wondered as I moved over to my own workstation.

“He was just very wor— no, very distressed about your place in the whole Accords situation.”

“Steve’s just looking out for me.” I pushed some buttons, causing my suit’s blueprints to show up on the table. 

“Yeah, I guess…” Tony mumbled. He finally looked up, squinting his eyes to see what I was working on. “What you got there kid?” He stood up to try to see better.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” I dimmed the screen. I wasn’t ready for the fight that would ensue when he found out what I was working on.

“Oh, nothing, is it?” He sat back down with a playful smirk plastered on his face. “Then you wouldn’t mind if I had FRIDAY mirror your table on mine. FRIDAY?”

“On it Boss.”

“Dad, no! FRIDAY!” My table was quickly mirrored onto Tony’s. He immediately began to swipe through my sketches and blueprints. 

“Interesting,” he mumbled.

“Please don’t be mad. I was going to tell you. I was just waiting—“

“Just waiting until you were finished with it, right?” He didn’t look at me as he spoke.

“Dad, I—“

“FRIDAY, I think it’s time.”

“Should I unlock section B?” She asked.

“Unlock it and bring it up,” Tony directed as he walked over to me.

“What’s going on?” I looked at him, completely confused.

“Close your eyes,” he commanded.

“Why? What are you do—“

He put his large, rough hands over my eyes. “Just do it. My hands are just a precaution.”

“Fine,” I huffed and closed my eyes.

“Bring it all the way up, FRI.” It was the longest fifteen seconds of my life, before Tony spoke up again. “Okay. You can look in 3, 2, 1…”

next >

[godofevrerything]

Hell Rising Chapter Three: Rana

"Kamiko! Stop!" I screamed. I chased my sister down the hallway, tears streaming down my cheeks.

"You're sick!" she yelled. "Your head is all screwed up! Kuri-san need to know about this before you hurt somebody!"

"I wouldn't hurt anyone! Give me back my journal!" I cried.

Fear ran through me. I couldn't let Haha and Chichi see my journals. They'd disown me and wipe my existence from the family tree. Or even worse...

I heard the door open. Kamiko sprinted into the living room. I was right on her heels.

She shoved my journal into Haha's hands, gasping for breath. "Namarana is crazy! She-She... Well read them!"

Haha took my journal from Kamiko, frowning slightly.

"Haha, no, don't read it! My journal is private!" I cried.

Chichi clucked his tongue. "We are a family, watashi no musume. We do not have secrets."

Haha yelped, dropping my journal. She stared at me in horror.

I dove for my journal, but Chichi had already picked it up.

He froze.

"What is the meaning of this?"

My hands shook. "N-nothing,"

I looked at Haha in desperation.

"Nothing?!" she gasped. "These thoughts are thoughts of a demon!"

I flinched. "No! I'm fine. I'm not a demon. I- I'm your daughter!"

Chichi looked at me in disgust. "No daughter of mine would ever think these horrific things."

"I'm sorry!" I yelled. "That's just how I feel! There is nothing wrong wi-"

"Nothing wrong?!" Haha cried. Her face was white with terror. "Thinking of women this way, having these gory thoughts! There are a million things wrong with that!"

Tear fell down my face. "I've always liked girls. And with all that talk about it being a sin, of course I would want to die. I can never talk to anyone about my crushes, or my feelings. I can't say a word, because if I do, you'll send me away!"

"You're thinking of cutting yourself!" Kamiko suddenly yelled. "Cutting your arms and legs, getting hundreds of piercings, destroying this family!"

"I wouldn't destroy the family. And if you really cared, then you would notice that something was wrong!" I screamed.

They were staring at me like I was a ghost. I swallowed back a sob, glaring at them.

"Please," I whispered. "Stop looking at me like that. I'm not a demon or a monster. I'm not crazy. Don't send me away. Please, I'm begging you."

For a moment, my family was still. And then they bolted past me, into the master bedroom. I ran after them, my heart in my throat. I could hear Haha speaking desperately.

"I don't know. She's a demon, or something from Hell. She'll kill us. Take her away, please!"

I froze.

Then I threw myself against the door. "NO! Haha, Chichi, don't do this! Please! I'm your daughter!"

Kamiko let out a scream. "She's trying to break the door down! Oh my god, she's trying to kill us! I don't want to die!"

"No! Let me in. Let me IN!" I howled.

They screamed.

In terror.

My family was terrified of me.

I slammed my body against the door, trying to knock it down. I wasn't going to be sent away. No. Everyone that the officials took away never came back.

"So what if I like girls?! I'm a human just like you all!"

"You're a monster!" Haha yelled.

I froze.

A monster.

A monster.

She called me a monster.

My breath came out sharp. My hands shook. I grabbed onto my head. "No. No. N-n-no! I-I I'm not a m-monster. I'm not! You can't say that! Th-that's not true!"

A monster.

A demon.

Not a daughter.

Chichi's words came back. "No daughter of mine,"

He said I wasn't his daughter.

Not their daughter.

A monster.

I was a monster to them.

My vision was blurry. I couldn't breathe. I staggered back, tears streaming down my face.

A monster. A monster. A MONSTER.

MONSTER MONSTER MONSTER

"NO!" I yelled.

I felt hands grab me. I screamed and kicked. They were holding me tightly. I felt a pinch in my arm. My head spun.

"No, no!" I gasped.

Spots danced in my vision.

I saw my family coming out of the master bedroom.

Our eyes met.

"I'm not a monster." I whispered. "I'm not-"

Then I couldn't see anything.

The phone dropped from my hand. I winced and dug my nails into my wrist.

That was five years ago. It didn't matter.

What mattered was the text from Ricker.

Darcy and Ivan glanced at me in concern. I gave them a weak smile and picked my phone off the ground.

Rin was shaking. "How?"

I swallowed. "I don't know."

Darcy glanced between us and stood up. "I'll take Kai and Sabrina next door. I got a friend."

I hesitated. "Is this friend..."

"Jae is trustworthy, don't worry."

Rin shook her head. "We will always worry."

"Well, she's like you guys." Darcy said.

We looked at her in surprise. She grinned.

"Who's Jae?" Kai asked.

"One of Aunt Darcy and Uncle Ivan's good friends." Ivan answered.

I stood up. "I'll come with you."

Darcy nodded. I grabbed Kai's hand and picked up Sabrina. We went a couple of doors down the hallway and stopped in front of one. Darcy knocked on it.

The door swung open, revealing a pink haired girl. She grinned at Darcy, her white teeth shining.

"Hey Goldie. Who are they?"

"Jae, this is my BFF, Rana, and her kids." Darcy introduced us.

Jae's eyes met mine. They were like liquid silver. I felt a shock up my spine. Her eyes widened slightly. She opened her mouth , like she was going to say something. Then she grinned.

"The psychic one?"

I frowned. "Excuse me?"

Her smile widened. "Your mind attacks."

"Oh."

She looked so familiar. I felt like I knew her. Like I could trust her.

I handed Sabrina to Jae and pushed Kai forward. "If there is even a scratch on them, I will kill you."

Jae nodded. "I'll take good care of them."

"It's only for an hour or so." Darcy sighed.

"Haha?" Kai asked. "Where are you going?"

I knelt down to Kai's eye level. "You're going to stay with Jae for a bit, okay? I'll come get you later."

Kai nodded. "Okay Haha."

"Thank you honey." I sighed.

I hugged both of them and shot Jae a stern look. It didn't matter if I knew her. She would not hurt my family.

Then we went back to the room.

Rin patted the spot next to her. I sat down and grabbed my phone.

"So Ricker traced your phone." Ivan sighed. "And we have to destroy it."

"Again?" Darcy asked.

Rin nodded.

"Well if you could ask your dear uncle Admin to piss off," I muttered.

Darcy glared at me. "I can't ask my psycho uncle anything, and you know that. I helped you escape, remember? He wants me dead."

Ivan frowned. "The Administrator wouldn't be that ruthless, right?"

Rin sighed. "He is. It doesn't matter that Darcy is his niece. She got in his way."

"Yeah. Family doesn't matter to that psychopath. He employed Ricker for gods sake. He's the reason why we are on the run." I scoffed.

Darcy groaned. "We know that. Now can we please stop talking about my psychotic relative and get back to the text message?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Sure. So, do I step on it this time?"

"Do whatever you want, Rana." Rin said. "Or I can do it."

I tossed the phone down. "You do it, Sunshine."

Rin scoffed. She snatched the phone up and sent a shock of electricity through it. And then melted part of it for good measure.

She tossed the phone in the trash can and sat back down. "So, what next?"

I opened my mouth to answer. A knock on the door interrupted me.

Darcy opened the door. "I said no-"

Four men shoved past her and slammed the door closed. They were dressed in bulletproof clothes and had government badges pinned to their chest. And guns.

I leapt up and whipped out my pistols. The men laughed.

"Get out." I whispered. "Your vests might be bulletproof, but your faces are not. Leave, right now."

They yanked masks over their faces.

Damn it.

"Gentlemen," Rin chuckled. "You have two choices. One, leave right now and be alive. Or stay here and die."

The goon in the front laughed. "How about another choice? You four sit pretty while we kill you two freaks, and the normal guy and girl go to prison?"

I smiled coldly. "That's not going to happen, you dimwits."

"Yeah, it is." the goon chuckled.

They rushed forward, grinning idiotically. Wrong move.

I turned invisible and sidestepped them. But they had come prepared. The goons touched their masks, and the masks lit up.

Heat detection.

"So Uncle Admin finally gave your supersuits an upgrade." Darcy sighed.

I put out my hand and concentrated. I made my way into the goons minds, searching for painful memories. I yanked the memories forward, forcing the goons to replay them.

The men yelped, dropping their weapons. "Stop!"

I scoffed. "Not a chance."

But more men came in. I did the same thing to them. More and more men came in the room.

I was slipping.

My head started to pound.

I couldn't hold their minds for much longer.

It hit me.

That was the strategy.

The Admin knew that I was powerful. He knew that I could hold his men's minds. But he also knew that I had a limit. And if I hit that limit, I would loose nearly all of my control.

Rin noticed me straining. She chuckled quietly. "Let me help, honey."

I let go of one of the men. He straightened up, gasping. But he didn't get a chance to do anything else. Rin grabbed his wrist and sent a bolt of deadly electricity into him.

The man collapsed, dead.

I let go of more of the goons minds, and Rin fried them.

But more came in.

Rin was losing her pace.

One of them ran at me. I ducked under his arm and slammed my foot into the back of his knee. He yelled loudly and whirled around. I kicked him in the dick. He staggered.

Ivan jumped on his back, slamming the man to the ground.

I pulled out my knife and slashed the back of the goons neck.

Something flew past me. I whirled around, just in time to see one of Darcy's high heels slam into one of the men's neck. Rin jumped and fried him, shooting Darcy a grateful look.

"Don't touch my friend." Darcy hissed.

We worked together and took down the last couple of men. It wasn't that hard.

I drew in a breath and straightened up, grinning. "Looks like old Admin underestimated us again, huh Sunshine?"

Rin shook her head. "He didn't. There's the noise factor that we have to take care of."

The smile slid off my face.

I heard sirens.

Darcy went white. "Oh sh-"

I jumped up. "Come on!"

We ran out the door, Darcy and Ivan following us. I whirled around and ran to Jae's apartment.

Before I knocked, she yanked open the door.

"What did you do?!" Jae yelled. "Never mind. I don't want to know. Take your kids and get the hell out of here! I'll stall for you guys as long as I can."

Kai ran into Rin's arms. I grabbed Sabrina from Jae and gave the silver eyed girl a quick nod of thanks. She nodded back.

We ran down the hallway. I could hear people running around in panic. The sirens were getting louder.

We ran into the hotel lobby.

"Coming through!" Rin yelled.

"Get the hell out of our way!" I cried.

I shoved my way through the packed lobby. Rin, Ivan and Darcy were right behind me.

We made it to back door.

It was locked.

I pulled out my pistol and shot the lock to smithereens. We ran out of the alley and looked around.

Police cars were surrounding the hotel. There were patrol cars up and down the streets too.

My head was pounding.

I dug my nails into my wrist. Now was the last time I needed a panic attack.

"There! A taxi!" Darcy yelled.

We ran across the street. Ivan flagged down the taxis and we leapt inside.

"Where to?" the driver asked.

"Charleston!" I blurted out.

The driver nodded and started driving.

For a moment, nobody spoke.

And then Ivan gasped.

"We ran with you!"he hissed. "We're involved in this!"

"We've always been involved." Darcy mumbled quietly.

"I know." Ivan whispered. "It's just-"

Darcy suddenly sat up straight. "Oh my God. We ran with you!"

"Keep it down!" Rin hissed.

Darcy's face was white. "Now we're on the run too."

"Duh." I scoffed.

"No. I mean that all of our stuff is in the hotel room." she whispered. "Including ours IDs! We will be identified and a bounty will be put on our heads just like you guys!"

I stared at her in horror.

Rins voice cracked as she spoke.

"There's no safe place for us anymore."

Haha means mom in Japanese Chichi means dad in Japanese Watashi no musume is my daughter in Japanese

[raendown]

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 4753 Chapter: 9/? Summary: Not all wars are fought on the battlefield. Some are fought at the conference table, with whispers in the shadows, or even in the bedroom.

In a world where the Senju and Uchiha traditional lands were too far apart to have ever made them enemies, Butsuma and Tajima are the ones who come together and sign a treaty of peace. Madara isn’t happy to have his life signed away for him in a political marriage to strengthen the bond between their clans. He is even less happy to have Tobirama make assumptions of him from their very first night together. What follows from there is a journey of healing, of learning, and finding the places to belong in the places least expected.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Chapter 9

The effects of sleeping so little almost every single day must have been getting to him even more than Tobirama realized if he wasn’t able to sense one little child approaching him on a nearly empty avenue. Actually, after looking down a second time Tobirama stopped walking as he realized that this was not a child who had appeared as if from thin air but a grown woman whose body had apparently decided to stop growing just after reaching three feet tall. Her limbs were all too short, legs bowed as if she had spent her formative years on horseback, and her head was just a little too big for her body. Despite that she walked with the ease and confidence of a well-trained shinobi and her chakra, now that he was paying attention, felt sharp and ready. This was not a woman to underestimate.

“Can I help you?” he asked. Blunt questions were always best, in his opinion. No point in standing on ceremony when it was clear the other person had come armed with a specific agenda.

“You could help yourself,” the woman grumbled and Tobirama nodded with some exasperation.

“A friend of Madara's, I take it?”

She didn’t bother to answer but her lack of denial was enough for him. “I wanted to come meet you for myself and I must say, the rumors are all true. You certainly are a tasty young thing, aren’t you?”

Tobirama nearly choked on his own tongue while spluttering.

“I can’t even be half your age!” he managed to get out in a strangled voice.

“Pah! You might be only half baked but I’m still allowed to use my eyes!”

“What exactly do you mean by rumors? What rumors?” Tobirama looked around at the empty street, almost worried there might be others watching them, though he couldn’t say why he found that idea so worrisome. It would hardly have been be the first time his movements had been monitored.

“Surely you’ve heard them?” the woman at his feet declared. “Every woman with working eyeballs in this clan has been whispering about how good looking you are since the day of the wedding – and not a few of the men as well. I mean, sure, looks aren’t everything. But they certainly don’t hurt either, if you know what I mean!”

Rubbing at the bridge of his nose, Tobirama mumbled under his breath, “I have trouble believing that.”

“Then you should get yourself in front of a mirror. I hear my dear old Madara has a rather nice one over the vanity in his bedroom, perhaps that one?”

He let his hand fall to give the woman a reproving look. For a shinobi with chakra as refined as hers that had been the exact opposite of subtle. She didn’t even have the decency to look sorry for her suggestion either, giving Tobirama the impression that he probably didn’t want to ask exactly what she had meant to imply by it. He let the subject fall to one side as they turned down a shady avenue and gave his attention to the small group of children passing them by with raucous laughter.

“I’ve known the lad since he was about their size, raised him more than his own father did.” Tobirama looked over to the woman now trundling along by his side and paused when he saw the reserved expression on her face. “He’s a blustering fool but there’s a heart of gold underneath all that hair and if I thought you were hurting him deliberately I would have already fed you your own spine. But you’re not. You’re both caught up in a situation you don’t like and neither one of you knows how to get the other one settled down but if at least one of you would just send up a white flag – something small! – you’d both have a much easier time of it, you know?”

“Yes, I do know.”

“So get to waving, then, you soggy muffin! What in hell’s name are you waiting for?”

Tobirama huffed. “You’ve got a lot of nerve for a woman who hasn’t even bothered to introduce herself to me yet. For all I know you could be an escaped mental patient berating the first idiot stupid enough to let her approach them. Although I suppose that doesn’t say much flattering about me either.” He wasn’t sure if he felt insulted or a little triumphant when she tilted her head back to roar with laughter.

“My name is Susumu and oddly enough I think I like you, young’n. I hope I’ve never killed anyone who meant something to you.”

“Ah. I hope the same.”

“Not likely. I’m a grumpy old crust and I’ve never liked many people.” Her words put a reluctant smile on Tobirama’s face and he settled on feeling proud.

“Then I shall take your approval as a compliment,” he told her. She nodded magnanimously in approval.

At the end of the avenue they turned another corner and Tobirama opened his mouth to bid this Susumu a good day since this was where he was supposed to meet Kagami for their first official day of training. He was stopped by the sight of Madara with a hand on one hip and the other waggling a stern finger, face pulled down in to a disappointed expression that had poor Kagami toeing the ground with shame. Tobirama’s first instinct was a wave of protective anger.

He was grateful, later, that he followed his secondary instincts instead and paused to listen before jumping in to the situation.

“It was just a stupid prank,” Kagami muttered in the direction of his shuffling feet. Madara snorted over him.

“Perhaps you meant it that way but what you did cost that woman a lot of money in wares. She’s a civilian, she relies only on the wares she sells for income and you’ve just taken that away from her. Can a civilian simply pick up an extra mission to make up for a loss in pay?”

“No, Madara-sama.”

“So what do you suppose she should do now?”

Kagami sniffled and looked away, properly shamed. “I-I don’t know.”

“If you were an active shinobi I would ask you to pay for those wares but you don’t make any of your own money yet. Should I ask your mother to pay on your behalf?” Madara lifted one eyebrow at the boy’s panicked expression. “No, I didn’t think you would like that either. Which means I’ll have to pay for them myself. So now you’ve caused trouble for two different people.”

“Well I…I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry, Madara-sama!”

His expression softening, Madara knelt down to Kagami’s level. “Intentions are all well and good but actions have consequences. I know you only meant to set off that flash powder as a prank but next time I want you to think about how your action will affect others.”

“Okay.” Kagami clasped his hands together and leveled his clan head will the single most potent set of puppy eyes that Tobirama had ever seen. “I am really sorry.”

“Don’t look at me like that, brat, I practically raised Izuna. You think a good puppy face will crack me?” Almost as if to contradict himself Madara pushed himself back to his feet and ruffled the boy’s hair.

“He’s a good egg,” Susumu murmured from the corner of her mouth.

Tobirama wasn’t sure if she meant the boy or the man but either way, in that moment, he had to agree. When they came upon the scene to find an angry Madara he had expected the sort of explosive temper that anyone working around the administration tower got to witness all too often. He was pleasantly surprised to discover Madara did understand tact and that he was surprisingly good at speaking in a way Kagami’s young mind could understand. Not many people with a temper that quick would stop and take the time to explain why the actions had been wrong.

Whatever reply he might have made was set aside when Madara spotted the two of them there and lost all color in his face. Something about seeing Susumu and Tobirama standing next to each other appeared to horrify him. That was definitely something that deserved a little exploration.

“Sensei,” Madara called with a cautious tone. “What terrible things are you up to today?”

“Just the usual. Poisoning my cupcakes, subverting government officials, and having a lovely chat with your young husband here.” Her smile was benign but the mischief in her eyes was all too easy to read when she looked up at the man beside her.

“If I get accused of treason,” Tobirama informed her in a flat tone, “I’m bringing you down with me.”

“Oh I do like you.”

He warily looked away and found Madara watching their exchange thoughtfully. It was hard to tell whether he was more worried or pleased by the idea of them getting along and he never bothered to say anything to make it clear, shaking his head as he delivering one last absent swat up the side of Kagami’s head.

“Came to take the brat for training?” he asked instead. Tobirama nodded. “He came up with a few interesting ways to keep himself entertained until you got here.”

“So I overheard. We’ll have a talk about that.”

Kagami drooped. “Aw man, but I already got in trouble!”

“I never said I was getting you in trouble, Kagami, but we will definitely still be talking about this. Even if it’s just tips on how not to get caught next time.” Contrary to what some might think, he did understand how an expression as blank as his delivering such words might be startling. Nothing about him really screamed ‘I have a sense of humor’. He understood perfectly well why Kagami gaped in surprise before laughing outright and jumping over to hug him around the waist.

The look of utter shock on Madara's face was still extra satisfying, though. Tobirama tried not to appear too smug as he very carefully did not meet his husband’s eyes. Maybe that would show the other man he wasn’t quite the stodgy, formal block of ice that apparently most Uchiha thought him to be. With a soft pat to his new student’s head Tobirama gently pushed him away and murmured that they should head over to the training field so they didn’t waste too much of the time slot he had it booked for.

He only made it three steps away, however, before Susumu caught up to him dragging a frantic looking Madara by the wrist.

“Mind if we tag along?” she asked.

“Do you need a refresher course in the basics?” Tobirama shot back. “This is our first time officially training so I hadn’t planned much more than running him through the basic forms to see where his strengths and weaknesses are. We won’t be doing any actual learning until later.”

“You’re interesting and you don’t strike me as the sort to take shit from anyone. I think it would do both of us a world of good to see you in action.” Susumu tugged on Madara's wrist once before letting go.

Rubbing at his abused limb, Madara glared down at her. “I’d like to say for myself what’s good for me,” he grumbled.

The rest of them ignored him and Tobirama pretended not to see the pout that followed. If ever he had wondered how this man became such good friends with his brother it was obvious now.

While having two spectators hadn’t exactly been part of his agenda it also wasn’t anything he hadn’t had to deal with before. It took a bit to convince Kagami that showing off for their audience would only result in having to run the same drills over and over when the distraction caused him to mess up but after a while Tobirama managed to put anything outside the two of them away from his mind to concentrate on the task at hand.

His analysis was much as he’d expected in some areas and quite the opposite in others. Kagami was physically quite fit and ready to be molded in to a good little soldier but he lacked the discipline usually found in the children of front line warriors. His chakra reserves weren’t very large yet, unsurprising considering his age, but while he didn’t know very many jutsu yet he did show a natural aptitude for molding his natural gifts when Tobirama took him through beginner drills like holding a leaf on his forehead with only chakra while performing physical tasks. All in all the boy had the makings of a skilled shinobi, all he lacked was a deeper knowledge and further training.

Focused as he was, Tobirama very nearly managed to forget about the two watching from afar. Almost. With just a small bit of his chakra infused to focus on his pupil it was hard to entirely ignore two such bright signatures so close to his own. Still, he relegated their presence to the back of his mind until he was finished going over with Kagami the first few weaknesses they would address in their training, ending with a tiny smile as reward for the boy’s patience and good behavior.

Considering their interactions so far it was no surprise that Susumu once again spoke up first when Tobirama approached them.

“Not bad, sugar, not bad at all. I’m curious to see what you’re like in a real fight, though.” She grinned at him but before he could reply Madara groaned beside her and threw a punch that she easily dodged.

“Please no,” he begged. “Please do not embarrass me. I do that just fine on my own, you always say so.”

“Aw, come on little one! You can’t tell me you’re not just a little bit curious!”

Tobirama canted his head to one side, curious. “Is this your way of challenging me to a spar?” he asked. Susumu propped her hands on both hips, striking a pose that would have been much more impressive if she were at least taller than young Kagami. What did give her an imposing edge was the light in her eyes and the warning crackle in her chakra.

“Scared?” she taunted.

“Of you? I don’t have enough data to be frightened. By the look on Madara's face I believe I should be wary but there’s really only one way to tell, isn’t there?” Her energy was surprisingly infectious; Tobirama found himself lifting one eyebrow in a challenge on his own.

He wasn’t very sure what to make of the worried look on Madara's face, uncertain if it was worry for him or for his teacher or even for his own sanity, so he looked away and smiled when Susumu clapped her hands together with childlike glee. She beckoned Kagami over and told him to stay off the field then came forward to offer Tobirama a hand. When he shook it she winked up at him and squeezed his fingers tight enough that his bones creaked in warning.

“You should have said you were scared,” she warning him. “I might have gone easy.”

“And where would the fun be in that?”

“Oh ho ho, feisty.” Her chakra was practically bursting at the seams, running through her veins like wildfire in such a way that Tobirama found himself grinning in return.

Kagami immediately began to chatter in his clan heir’s ear while the two combatants set the parameters of their spar. Then Tobirama tuned the rest of the world out with an easy efficiency that he hadn’t been able to achieve before without something like this to focus on. Susumu would be a formidable opponent, he could already tell that before either of them had made the first move. He was probably not going to win this spar. But that wouldn’t stop him from giving his all; it had been much too long since he had a proper sparring partner whose patterns he did not already know by heart. The summer season was fading in to autumn yet the air around them was still warm enough to excuse the slight hint of an excited flush on his cheeks that would have belied how much he was suddenly looking forward to this.

With a mocking bow that only bent his spine a single inch he gestured for Susumu to come at him. She did so with teeth bared and fists raised. As they danced around each other his mind automatically began to catalogue advantages and disadvantages, predictions that formed and fell away as he analyzed her movements. What advantage he gained from his height and easy access to her head she made up for in her own easy access to his knees and the ability to get up inside his guard for easier blows against his trunk. Any awkwardness born through her condition was made up for with heavy training and an impressive knowledge of how to use her own body. Not a single step was wasted, every movement deliberate.

And the kicks. Her kicks were absolutely deadly. For a tiny woman she packed quite a lot of power behind her feet each time she launched herself in the air, fending off his blows with both hands as she spun like a top to deliver devastating attacks that came close to breaking straight through his guard several times.

It rapidly became clear that, although Tobirama was holding his own for now in taijutsu, this was not an area that would grant him an easy win. There was always the chance that his high stamina might outlast hers but that wasn’t something he wanted to rely on without knowing her limits better. The next time Susumu came spinning towards his head he used the rebound of their clash to launch himself backward, taking advantage of those few precious seconds of separation to run through a quick set of hand seals.

Susumu did manage to dodge his water bullets, which wasn’t a surprise, but that wasn’t his main attack anyway. A smirk flitted across Tobirama’s face at hearing the crack of her head against the earth wall he threw up in the path of her dodge. Even if all she did was laugh and throw a massive stream of fire in his direction it was still more than worth it. Tobirama covered his escape with the only thing he could, a spinning wall of air that served no offensive purpose but had saved his life more times than he could count. His preference for water jutsu didn’t do him any good when there wasn’t enough water at hand quick enough and he’d already thrown most of the nearby pond at his opponent with the water bullets; poor foresight on his part, a mistake to throw himself in to the fight with such enthusiasm without planning ahead. He was allowed to get excited as much as the next person.

“Three different elements!” Susumu’s voice called over the scattering of fireballs she was using to keep him distracted, unable to retaliate while he was busy dodging. “I have to admit, I’m impressed!”

“I’m flattered you consider only half of my arsenal impressive,” Tobirama called back with a hint of smugness.

As he’d thought they would, his words gave her just enough pause that he was able to body flicker away. She spotted him when he appeared on the other side of the field but wasn’t able to react fast enough to stop him from pulling at the bandages he habitually wore around his wrists to expose a seal. It was only a simple storage seal, nothing like the still unfinished hiraishin he’d been working on, but what made it truly impressive were the changes he and Mito had spent hours poring over until they were able to seal physical objects in to human skin rather than paper.

The sword he pulled out of what must have looked like thin air was something he knew the Uchiha had been salivating over from afar for generations, a blade very few Senju had ever had the affinity to wield properly, and Tobirama found just a little smear of pride in the way Susumu’s gaze followed the weapon as he spun it in one hand.

“Now it’s a party,” she cackled. Tobirama rolled his eyes. “The Raijin no Ken, I was unaware it had a new bearer.”

“I’m just full of surprises,” he called back dryly.

“Let’s see how many more you’ve got up your sleeve!”

For all that the sword was rumored to make its bearer invincible, however, it soon became clear that Susumu needed no such gimmicks to augment her own power. With nothing more than the standard kunai in her holster she was able to meet and parry every attack her threw at her, dodging strikes of lightning with the ease of a young maiden following the steps of a barn dance. It was twice as frustrating when Tobirama realized she was only playing with him. No matter how hard he tried or what trick he pulled Susumu met every move without even having the decency to look harried by his efforts.

Finally there came a moment when something shifted between them and Tobirama wasn’t sure how he knew but the way his opponent fought had changed and something about that told him the end was coming, she had gotten tired of playing. Their spar was about to end. As a last ditch effort he brought his fingers together in a rapid set of seals and brought one hand to his mouth.

Susumu knocked his hands apart with one foot, the momentum of her kick carrying her body around for the other foot to crack against the side of his head and send him careening sideways. The world flew by in melded colors, both ears ringing from the blow, and by the time Tobirama was able to right himself he found Susumu standing over him with a feral grin and a blade to his throat. He blinked once and fell still as soon as he felt cold steel against the tenuous skin over his thundering pulse.

“Gotcha,” Susumu cackled. A triumphant laugh bubbled up between her lips only to fade away when she saw the mischievous sparkle in his eye. Tobirama winked and then opened his mouth to release the fire jutsu she thought she had interrupted, a short puff of flame that hit her square in the face.

It did little more than singe her eyebrows, of course, he wasn’t stupid enough to fry the face off such a powerful ally, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that he could have fried her face off if this were a real battle and from the mixture of delight and consternation in her expression it was obvious that his opponent understood that. Susumu jerked upright with her free hand already patting around her face to assess the damage. Upon finding only a few hair follicles missing she tossed her head back and laughed so hard Tobirama worried she might drop her kunai in his leg.

“Brilliant!” she crowed. “Who won the fight? Who knows! Both! Nobody! You cheeky little slice of cheese!”

“If I might get up now?” Tobirama murmured, trying to keep his satisfaction in check. He accepted the hand that was offered to him and Susumu stepped away from where she had been standing over his legs to make room for him to right himself again.

Then he almost went tumbling back to the ground as Susumu caught him in the hip with a ‘friendly’ punch that was perhaps a little too enthusiastic.

“Knew you’d do good but damn that was a neat little trick at the end. You, you’re a good egg too, aren’t you? Five elemental releases! I haven’t seen that outside of our clan in quite some time!”

“Nonsense, the Nara have at least two who’ve mastered all the elements.” His protests had less to do with modesty and more to do with his obsessive habit of keeping all shared information correct. The Nara did in fact have two women who were capable of doing as he did, although both of them were well older and had taken longer to master the abilities. Tobirama mostly attributed that to their habitual laziness more than anything else.

“Still impressive,” Susumu allowed and he nodded in acceptance.

Before he could say anything else Kagami came stumbling across the field with Madara trailing behind at a much more sedate pace, both of them wearing differing degrees of awe on their faces. “Sensei! Sensei that was amazing! You’re so cool! Will you teach me how to do that? I want to spit fire in baachan’s face too!”

“Who are you calling baachan!?”

“You’re old!”

With an offended shriek Susumu turned to chase Kagami, who sprinted away across the field in terror. Obviously she could have caught him in less than a few seconds but, probably just to entertain herself, she chose not to augment her speed and instead pattered after him around the torn up training grounds, leaving Madara and Tobirama standing awkwardly together. Which, Tobirama realized after taking another peek at Madara's face, might actually have been the entire reason she chose to play chase with a child.

His husband was looking at him with the closest thing he had seen to actual hesitation on the man’s face in all the time they had known each other. While they might not have any history of getting along Madara did have at least a couple qualities that Tobirama was able to begrudgingly admire, one of which was the confidence he exuded in his every move, the way he chose a path and walked it without allowing doubts to slow him down. It wasn’t clear what he was doubting at the moment, his own misinterpretations or one of the rumors Tobirama usually pretended not to know about, but really all that mattered was the lack of hostility in the way he shuffled just a little closer.

“You really can use all five releases,” he murmured. “You mentioned it in passing and I meant to ask but then you sort of steamrolled over me with some other stuff that…well I got distracted. I can only react to so many things at once.”

Tobirama wanted to say that if he’d known Madara found that interesting he would have brought it up before. Except he knew it wasn’t true. If he’d known anything that Madara found interesting he would have spent the last couple of months burying whatever that thing was under as much dirt and rubble as he could find and maybe asking Hashirama to grow a tree over the grave. Only their recent interactions could be seen in any sort of positive light and even then he would call most of their exchanges cautionary at best.

He wasn’t sure what made him say it. Maybe the childish need to stick his proverbial tongue out at the man for treating him so poorly when he didn’t think he’d deserved it.

“I’ll let you know if I think of anything else about me that you might find impressive.” As soon as the word were out Tobirama wanted to cringe and take them back. For all the bad blood between them Madara had been oddly less than confrontational lately and the last thing he wanted to do was ramp up the antagonism between them again. He was relieved when Madara let out a single bark of laughter.

“Do that. Whatever other surprises you’ve gotten hidden up your sleeves they have to be more interesting than listening to Hashirama babble on about his stupid plants.”

Tobirama quirked up one side of his mouth in a smile that he hoped revealed nothing of what he was actually thinking about. It had been a long time since he met someone who preferred him over Hashirama in any sort of way, his brother being much warmer and easier to befriend. Even without his other triumphs that single innocuous sentence was enough to make this a good day in his books. It was always nice to be appreciated.

With his first session training Kagami going off without a hitch and the pride of having impressed Susumu, clearly an influential part of Madara's life and a strong member of the Uchiha clan, impressing his husband and making him laugh was unexpected icing on the cake of an already good day.

[switchdnp]

Mine...

Summary: In the world, there are different types of people. The alpha, beta and omega. These three plays a huge role on everyone’s lives and it usually determines what one’s place in the society is. The alphas, the people who are commonly those in power, the highest of the three types. They’re usually CEOs and government officials where they get to show their abilities that far surpasses betas and omegas. The omegas on the other hand, are those who are at the lowest class of the society. Omegas also have heats which enthralls alphas & betas and makes them lose their wit; the primal urge to breed will be the only thing that they’ll think about which usually ends up in forced sexual intercourse. Betas are the average kinds of people who have normal jobs. They are 80% of the world’s population while the omegas are only 5%. Phil Lester is one of those average people. Or that’s what he thought.

Word Count: 1,441

Read on Ao3

In the world, there are different types of people. The alpha, beta and omega. These three plays a huge role on everyone’s lives and it usually determines what one’s place in the society is.

The alphas, the people who are commonly those in power, the highest of the three types. They’re usually CEOs and government officials where they get to show their abilities that far surpasses betas and omegas. The omegas on the other hand, are those who are at the lowest class of the society.

Omegas also have heats which enthralls alphas & betas and makes them lose their wit; the primal urge to breed will be the only thing that they’ll think about which usually ends up in forced sexual intercourse.

Betas are the average kinds of people who have normal jobs. They are 80% of the world’s population while the omegas are only 5%. Phil Lester is one of those average people. Or that’s what he thought.

It started off as a normal day where Phil wakes up on his bed, squinting at the sunlight that shines from his window. He reaches on his bedside table for his glasses and looks at the time, shocked to see that it’s only half past seven. He normally wakes up at 9 or 10 am but he brushes it off and goes straight to the bathroom. For some reason, he’s been feeling all hot and uncomfortable as soon as he woke up. He figured that a nice cold bath would help ease the hotness that he’s feeling but after he’s done, the hotness that seems to be emanating all over his body came back.

He figured that he might be sick so he tries to make his way over to the kitchen where all the meds are kept with just a towel on his torso. However, the walk to the kitchen sounds like something that he just couldn’t do at the moment, his knees feels like jelly when he walks and the feeling of hotness seems to be getting stronger. Suddenly, he remembered that he’s not alone in the house. He’s been living with his best friend, who is an alpha, for a year now. So he goes over to his friend’s room and knocks on it, he tries to knock a bit harder but his muscles wouldn’t respond to him. He only managed three light taps before his legs gave out. Everything feels so overwhelming, he’s panting so hard and everything hurts. He sobs as he feels something wet beneathe him. Phil felt like he’s gonna die when Dan opened the door to his room, still looking half-asleep.

“Phil…?” Dan’s eyes opened wide awake when he saw Phil on the floor, sobbing. He immediately knelt down to comfort his friend and see what’s wrong and that’s when it hits him. The smell of an omega in heat wafts in the room. Phil’s pheromones are too strong and he thinks that he might be able to smell him even from a mile away. But how could that happen, when Phil’s a beta? Unless if he’s an omega who developed late then it’s possible.

"Shhhh... it's fine, I'm here." Dan lifts Phil up and growls when Phil's scent invades all his senses. He carries Phil back to his room and sets him down gently on the bed. As soon as Dan removed himself from Phil, Phil turns around, towel falling off of him. He grinds on the bed whilst smelling Dan's pillows and bedsheets. Letting out groans of pain.

“Fuck, Phil! I don’t have that much self control and you smell so fucking good…” Dan just stands there thinking about going over to Phil or leaving the room and locking the door so that he won’t be able to go inside and ravage Phil. He feels the nails of his fingers dig through the palm of his hand from folding it so tightly, his breathing gets ragged and he suppresses the growls that’s trying to come out from the back of his throat.

“Oh please, I-I need you…” Phil whines and cries out as more slick comes out of him, wetting Dan’s bedsheets as it drips down his thighs. Phil lets a moan of discomfort when his alpha refuses to help him. Phil’s pheromones increases by the minute and Dan could already feel his self-control withering. Dan punches the wall of his room thinking about the consequences of whatever he’s about to do. Phil is in heat, even though he loves him more than a friend, he knows that Phil would be even more in pain if he wakes up tomorrow and remembers that he let Dan defile him when he’s vulnerable.

That thought however, was soon forgotten when he saw that Phil now has his fingers in his ass and crying that it’s not enough, that he needs Dan, his alpha. As soon as Dan heard Phil call him his alpha, he lost it. Eyes turning almost all black, consuming his dark brown irises. Letting his own body do what it wants him to do. He walks fast to where Phil is and swats his hands away from his ass. With Phil on all fours, he pushes Phil’s head down on the bed and caresses his plump ass, peppering bruising kisses all over Phil’s body. He hastily removes all of his pyjama pants which is the only thing that he has on and starts to eat Phil out while stroking his own dick. He laps at Phil harshly, relishing in the muffled sounds of Phil’s moans.

“You taste so fucking good, my omega…” Phil didn’t know how or why it happened but he suddenly came with a muffled shout. But it’s not enough, he’s still hard, he wants Dan and he wants it right now.

“Please, I need you in me…” Phil pants, still recovering from his high, thighs trembling and lips quivering.

“I got you,” Dan says as he kissed Phil’s hole one more time, using the slick from Phil as lube and in one hard thrust he’s all inside Phil. He’s huge but there wasn’t any resistance from Phil, he got inside smoothly and he wastes no time, starting out at a rough and relentless pace. Dan removes his hold on Phil’s head and kisses Phil as he thrusts in deeper. Phil choked on a sob when Dan hit whatever the hell it was that had him coming again. But Dan wasn’t having any of it and continues his brutal pace, hitting that place within Phil in every thrust. Phil couldn’t do anything but to take it, moaning in pleasure.

“Mine…”

“Yes, y-yours!”

Soon, Dan growls and he feels the knot form on the base of his cock and with a thrust, it goes inside Phil. Dan pulls Phil’s hair and bites his neck, successfully marking Phil. Phil hisses at the pain and shivers when Dan laps up at his wound. Dan whispers sweet nothings to Phil’s ear, telling him how he did a good job and how perfect Phil is for him, how amazing he’d be with his child. Phil whimpers at the feeling of Dan’s load going in him, trapped by the knot that securely held both of them in place.

When Dan feels that the knot loosened, he pulls out his soft cock from Phil and caresses the parts of Phil’s body that he’d made a mark on. Phil’s back is full of reddish purple spots and his neck is still a bit bleeding. He turns Phil over gently and saw that Phil’s so out of it that he can’t even talk to him. Dan kisses Phil’s lips, then his forehead, then his nose and cheeks. When Phil looked like he’s conscious again, Dan got up and took the responsibility to clean them both. Not saying a word as he wipes Phil, slighly grimacing at some of the love bites he made. When they’re both cleaned up, he lays beside Phil and pulls Phil towards him.

“I hope you know that now that you’re mine, I’m never letting you go even if you tried.” Dan mumbles, hoping that now that Phil’s heat subsides, he wouldn’t push him away but even if he does, he wants him to know that he wouldn’t go or that he’s not gonna stop being his friend.

“I thought you claimed me already? I’m yours, right?” Phil smiles up at Dan brightly, he may be confused about the sudden heat and the pain that it caused but he’s not complaining if it meant that he get to have Dan for real, not just his best friend. Dan was surprised about Phil’s answer but he’s also genuinely happy that Phil wants him still.

“Yes, you’re mine. Just like I’m yours as well.” Phil’s heart soared when Dan told him that he was his as well. He feels safe in Dan’s arms, and Dan was glad that he get to be Phil’s alpha. Both drifted off to sleep feeling loved and satiated, wishing that this moment would last forever.

[imbeccablee]

Starcrossed

read here on ao3

Notes: I’ve been working on this for a while, mostly on and off, and I thought I’d finally share it! I’m quite excited for this whole fic so I hope you all enjoy it!

Summary:

Krel and Aja visit Earth, carve their own worth from the universe with the help of each other and their new friends, and maybe find some love along the way.

Pairings: Kreli, Staja

“It is said Seklos and Gaylen were the original corebonded—two beings connected on an impossibly cosmic scale, their destinies intertwined. And when Gaylen became corrupt with power and Seklos sacrificed herself to stop him, in its anger, the universe stripped itself and its beings of its vibrant artistry. ‘These two beings have forsaken their bond,’ it said, ‘and their corruption is sure to spread.’ The universe punished its inhabitants to live a life of gray. The only way to restore that sight is to reunite with the person or persons connected to your very essence, your core. ‘This is the only way to see this bond is never taken for granted.’”

“Well, that’s a little ridiculous,” Krel said. Aja snorted while Papa sighed. Krel went on, “I mean, how can a universe talk? And how does a universe feel emotion? And even if it could do those things, how are we supposed to know for sure what it said and felt?”

“It is the principle of the matter, Krel,” Papa said. “This is how our people explain the corebond phenomena.”

Krel crossed his arms over his torso. “Well, I guess I just don’t see what the big deal is. Like, really, what’s so great about this cosmic connection.” He sang the last two words to make them sound spooky and mystical. Aja laughed behind one of her hands. “All it does is, what? Lets us see color? I don’t understand why it governs so much of our lives." Krel paused and the room was silent. After a moment, Krel sighed. "I just wish it wasn’t so important.”

Aja placed a hand on Krel’s arm and he gave her a half-smile. Mama and Papa looked at him sympathetically and he kind of hated it.

“Krel,” Mama said gently. “Is this really just about corebonds? Because if you have something you need to talk about—”

Krel tensed minutely and looked down, schooling his features. “Of course it is,” he said, staring at the gray, gray floor. Aja’s hand was still on his arm and he could somewhat see her crestfallen expression. He knew she was thinking the same thing he was. “I guess I’m just not a fan of talking about something I’m never going to have.” 

—

As a child, Krel rushed through the gray halls of the palace, muffling his giggles behind two hands. Aja had started counting about a mekron ago, which meant he didn’t have much time before she would start looking. A few guards smiled in amusement at the child prince as he rushed passed, to which he gave a delighted wave.

In all honesty, there weren’t many places in the halls to hide in, so really he had to find a room with enough clutter to reasonably hide his small frame. If only the staff didn’t keep everything so tidy!

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” Aja’s lilting voice traveled down the hall and startled him. Frantically, he turned a corner and spotted an open door. With an excited grin, he rushed towards it and skidded inside, hitting the button to close it as he crossed the threshold. Still giddy, Krel continued further in. There were quite a few boxes in here, stacked in the middle of the room, and after curiosity got the better of him, he climbed up the tower and discovered they contained weapons. They glowed with their usually pale gray light, humming with energy.

Krel frowned, but ultimately let his suspicion go. The weapons were probably being shipped off to different parts of the planet, or to other planets that needed them. He wasn’t entirely up to date on the political aspect of his parents’ duties currently, so he didn’t really have any right to question this.

“I’m just saying, I find it a little weird that they haven’t revealed who her corebonded is.”

Krel nearly fell from his perch on the side of the stacked boxes and quickly recovered the box of weapons, ready to make an excuse for why he was in there, when the words processed in his mind. Reveal who’s corebond?

Krel crept toward the back of the room, but found no one else. For a moment, he thought he’d just imagined it when another voice responded.

“Well, it is kind of a personal moment in someone’s life. They could just want the privacy.”

The voices were coming from a vent in the floor, presumably from a room below the one Krel sat in. He knelt in front of the vent and leaned his head down to hear better, the game all but forgotten in his mind.

“But the royal families have always declared their heir’s corebonded within a few delsens after they discover it! That way, by the time the heir is of age, their corebonded is ready to take the throne as well.” The royal families? Wait, they’re talking about— “I just feel it’s kind of suspicious they’re keeping the information hidden. I mean, look at what happened when Lady Mirana of House Akram hid her son’s corebond information… or lack thereof,” said the first voice. "Scandal of the century, I'll tell you what."

The second gasped. “Are you implying you think Princess Aja is bondless?”

Krel froze. They were talking about Aja? Why? What made them think she didn't have a corebond?

“I’m just saying it’s very much in the realm of possibility,” the first explained. “I mean, think about it. Aja passes the time when children normally have their corebonded declared, and suddenly the royals are incredibly hush-hush about the subject?”

“It’s not like the king and queen have broken past traditions before,” the second countered. Krel nodded along, not wanting to believe their implication.

The first sighed, seemingly relenting a little. “I suppose you’re right. But it doesn’t make it any less suspicious to me.” There was a short pause where Krel felt infinitely better with the subject being concluded before the first chuckled lightly. “And, well, I guess it doesn’t exactly matter, what with Prince Krel and all. It’s not like when you’re a royal there’s any real reason to have a second kid than to have a backup in case the first one doesn’t work out for whatever reason."

Krel stopped, hearing an odd rushing in his ears. It felt like he was frozen stiff, like he was mounted to the spot. He didn’t want to keep listening, didn’t want to believe that that was the reason he was here in the first place, but couldn’t bring himself to move.

“Hey now, that’s a little uncalled for.” The second one laughed, though it sounded awkward, like the sound of surprise rather than of humor. “I’d like to think our king and queen are a little more honorable than that. And it’s entirely possible Princess Aja’s corebonded is just not Akiridion, you know?”

“That’d almost be worse, don’t you think?” the first said. “I mean, no offense to any other creature in the universe, but personally I would want Akiridions on the throne, not one Akiridion and some random person from, I dunno, Delbar or something.”

“I guess you’re right…” The second person sounded much more hesitant, like they didn’t necessarily agree but also didn’t necessarily disagree, either.

“But like I said, I guess it doesn’t really matter since the prince is in the picture. I mean, what are the odds that both royal children have corebonds that aren’t Akiridion, right?” The two laughed together before seemingly continuing onto their jobs, the conversation over.

Krel didn’t move, however. He stayed bent over that vent, absently, his eyes dull. He could almost picture himself, actually. A gray and black figure with four arms and a slight frame, pale gray hair spiked backwards, his black and gray eyes unseeing. Gray, gray, gray, all dull and boring and a reminder that he hadn’t yet found his corebonded, assuming they even existed at all; an idea he hadn't even considered until that moment, an idea that now scared him more than anything.

He distantly heard the door open and then Aja’s voice proclaiming she’d found him, but even as he was pulled from his stupor, feigning disappointment at having lost, he couldn’t help thinking, What if I don’t have one? What if they’re not Akiridion? What happens then?

He didn’t have any answers.

—

Less than a week later, his mama and papa announced that they would refrain from publicly announcing his and Aja’s corebonded until it came to officially proclaim their heir. They decided this, they said, so that he, Aja, and their corebonded could spend their childhoods in peace while they prepared for the future, and so the families of their corebonded would be safe as well.

All the while Krel tried to ignore how Aja’s fists were clenched behind her back, her face carefully devoid of emotion as she stared unseeing into the crowd.

—

That night, his room felt simultaneously too big and too small. He laid on his side, knees tucked nearly to his chin and wished almost desperately for his body to fall into stasis. Something it, of course, vehemently denied him.

Bondless… 

The word had been haunting him these last few delsens. It plagued his dreams and lingered in his mind throughout the day. He knew his family was beginning to notice the strange, distant way he was acting, but he couldn’t even begin to think about how he would broach the subject with them.

How exactly did you ask your parents about whether or not you were born because you were wanted, or because they needed a plan B in case Aja didn’t work out?

With an irritated noise, Krel threw himself up, twisting on his bed so his feet dangled just above the floor. He kept himself upright with two hands and covered his face with the other two. When it didn’t look like the thoughts were going away, Krel slid off his bed and made his way for the door connecting his and Aja’s room. 

He gently pressed the button to open it, as if that would make less noise, and crept into her room. Like him, Aja was curled on her side, but she seemed to be sleeping soundly. He hated to wake her, but there was literally no one else he could talk to. Mama and Papa were… out of the question.

Krel knelt by Aja’s bed and placed one hand on her arm. “Aja,” he whispered as he shook her gently. “Aja!”

“Hm? What?” she murmured, eyes fluttering.

“Um,” Krel hesitated, the question burning his throat. He tried another approach. “Could I… stay with you, tonight?”

Aja rubbed one of her eyes, propping herself up with her two right arms. “Huh? I mean, yes, but why?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

Aja nodded like that was an acceptable answer and slid over to make more room. Grateful, Krel crawled beside her and sighed in relief as Aja’s arms wrapped around him. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Krel turned his head so his face was half buried in one of Aja’s pillows.

Aja giggled sleepily, rubbing her hands up and down Krel’s back. “That’s okay, little brother, we do not have to talk. We can just sleep.”

She closed her eyes again and her hands stilled on his back. He looked at her for a few moments before sighing. “Aja, um…”

“Are you implying Princess Aja is bondless?”

“Yes?” Aja’s eyes were open again, looking at him patiently, oblivious to how the light gray and void black mocked him.

“I’m just saying it’s very much in the realm of possibility. “I mean, think about it. Aja passes the time in which children normally have their corebonded declared, and suddenly the royals are incredibly hush-hush about the subject? 

And, well, I guess it doesn’t exactly matter, what with Prince Krel and all. It’s not like when you’re a royal there’s any real reason to have a second kid than to have a backup in case the first one doesn’t work out for whatever reason."

“Um…” Krel faltered. “Do you ever think about where your corebonded might be?”

Minutely, Aja froze. If he hadn’t been so close to her, he probably wouldn’t have noticed. “Er,” she stammered. “O-Of course, Krel, who doesn’t?”

“Well,” Krel paused, the words stuck in his throat. “Most Akiridions, apparently, since they find their corebonded when they’re young.” Aja flinched. “And I just… I just wonder about ours,” Krel plowed on. “Like… imagine, being brought before the royals of Akiridion-5 and it being revealed that you are cosmically bonded with one of the royals’ children.” He forced out a laugh. “That’d be—That’d be crazy, right? Imagine.”

“Krel…”

“And then… I was just thinking about how devastating it would be if that were to never happen,” he said, and Aja stared at him. He swallowed hard and continued. “I was just thinking about how there might not be some Akiridion kid who walks up those steps to Mama and Papa and is declared to be bonded to one of us. I was thinking about how, when our ceremonies happen, what if one of us doesn’t find our match on Akiridion-5. I was thinking about how we might not… find them at all.”

Aja’s lips were pursed together now, and for a moment she just stared at him. Then, “Krel, you know that’s not—”

“Aja, why didn’t Mama and Papa declare your corebonded?” Krel interrupted.

“That’s—I—”

“Why haven’t I met them yet, at least?” Krel continued. “Why haven’t you explained how pretty everything is in color yet? You’re passed the age where they find out, right? So what happened?”

“Krel, nothing happened!” Aja cut in. She sat up abruptly and moved away from him, and Krel immediately missed the comfort that came from her close presence. “It’s just—complicated.”

“I don’t get it!” Krel sat up too. “Why are Mama and Papa breaking tradition and waiting to declare ours?”

“Because—”

“Why were you so tense at the announcement today?”

“That’s—”

“Everyone has a corebond—right?—so why haven’t you found yours yet?”

“Because I might not have one!” Aja finally shouted. She flinched and looked away from Krel’s surprised expression, her hands balling into fists.

Krel stewed in their silence, feeling both ashamed and desperate for a different answer. Finally, his sympathy won out. “I’m… sorry, Aja, I shouldn’t have been so forceful.”

Aja sighed and tucked some hair behind her ear. “No, it’s… I would’ve been curious too…” She opened her fists and looked down at them. “Mama and Papa said that them not finding my corebonded doesn’t mean anything besides that they’re not Akiridion. They said it was totally and completely okay and normal for this to happen, but…” She shook her head. 

“But… you kind of feel like you’ve let them down?” Krel guessed. He mimicked Aja's position, wrapping his arms tightly around his knees. “And that they were just saying that to make you feel better?”

“Er, yeah.” Aja looked up, surprised. “But why do you…” Krel gave her a lopsided smile, a look in his eye saying you know. “Oh, Krel, you know they’re so proud of you. They love you so much.”

Krel sighed and looked at his feet. “Yeah. I know. It’s just hard to really feel it sometimes, especially when I also know I’m not what Papa really wanted in a son. I’m not exactly your average prince.”

Aja giggled and punched his arm lightly. “Who would want an average prince when they could have a genius one like you?”

Krel smiled, still sad, but grateful. “Thanks, Aja.”

“So…” She sidled up beside him again, leaning against her propped up knees to look him in the eye. “Are you gonna tell me what brought on the corebond stuff?”

“I…” Krel broke eye contact. “I overheard some of the staff talking a couple delsens ago and it… I dunno, I guess it got to me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing too weird, I guess, it’s just…” Krel shook his head. “They were talking about you… and your possible corebonded.”

“Oh.” Aja looked put out again.

“And then…” Krel continued. “They… started talking about me.”

Aja’s face switched from melancholic to furious so quickly Krel reeled back a little. “What did they say about you?” she growled and Krel felt a little better knowing Aja would so quickly defend his honor.

“Not a lot,” he quickly replied. “Just… Well, they just implied something, and it’s making me feel… weird.”

“... What was it?” Aja asked slowly.

Krel rubbed at the faintly glowing gray lines going around his feet. “When they were talking about you, they implied that Mama and Papa wouldn’t have wanted you as their heir because of your corebonded. Which isn’t true of course!” Krel quickly amended, seeing something dark cross through Aja’s eyes. “But… then they said that was where I came in. That I… was only made in case something went… wrong with you because it wasn’t likely that I, too, would have a non-Akiridion corebonded, and that it was “only right that only Akiridions take the throne”.”

Aja laid a hand on one of Krel’s. “Oh, Krel, that’s not true at all.”

“I… know,” he said, but he hesitated and Aja noticed too.

“Mama and Papa love you, Krel,” she insisted.

“I know,” Krel said. “I don’t… I normally don’t doubt that.” Aja gave him an exasperated look that he ignored. “It’s just… all I can think about now.”

“Don’t listen to some gossip, little brother, it means nothing. Who cares what a few staff members think? We are a family, and nothing will ever get in the way of that." Aja shrugged then. "Besides, I'm sure they only say that sort of stuff to let out some anger. I mean, we may be wonderful people, but even the most patient Akiridion would get frustrated after waiting hand and foot on us all day, right? I know I would."

Krel laughed a little, the coil of tension in his spine relaxing some. Aja smiled gently at him, though he could see the worry in her eyes. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Krel said.

Aja giggled. “Of course I am. I’m your older sister.” Krel smiled and relaxed further when Aja wrapped two arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer. She leaned her head against his and Krel softly sighed, the emotions that had kept him wound up for most of the day finally dispersing and leaving him quite exhausted. Although his concerns hadn't completely gone away, he did feel better after talking about it.

They stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s comfort, for a long time. When they finally did move, Krel bashfully asked, “Can I still stay the night?” to which Aja replied, “Of course, dummy.”

They laid back down and cuddled closer. A few moments passed after they relaxed and Krel said, “... Thank you, Aja.”

Aja hummed then replied, “Any time, little brother. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

—

It seemed Krel had a knack for finding himself in those situations. In the coming parsons, Krel had stumbled upon instances where members of the royal staff commented on the peculiarity of the royal family, and more often than not the conversation ended with them mentioning Krel's supposed role in the family—that is, that he was a plan B. He tried to not let it get to him, truly he did, but hearing it over and over again both by the staff and in his own head eventually made the possibility more and more plausible in his mind. Aja comforted him and tried to pull him from the metaphorical hole he was falling into, but it was as if he were hurtling through space, a huge, dark, looming black hole inching ever closer and that no matter what he did or what he tried to grab, he would forever grow closer until finally being crushed by its endless black. 

Metaphorically, of course. 

Aja just… She just wasn't enough it seemed.

And in the end, it didn't matter if those staff members had been right or wrong about why Krel was born.

Because when he came of age, he went through the ceremony privately with Aja at his side and his parents smiling gently at the terminal, and when the sectons turned to mekrons turned to horvaths and his parents finally turn the terminal off, their smiles now forced and worried, Krel’s worst fear, no matter how hard his mama and papa tried to convince him differently, had come true.

Krel Tarron, the second child of King Fialkov and Queen Coranda of House Tarron and prince of Akiridion-5, was bondless.

[enjolrasrising]

The Captain

Bahorel had always looked after Grantaire, ever since they were kids.

The first person Bahorel ever punched when he was eight had been a round-faced ten-year-old who shoved Grantaire into a rain puddle. He would never forget the anger that came over him then, how the bully’s laughter made his teeth grind, and how the tears on six-year-old Grantaire’s face made his stomach knot up. No one hurt Bahorel’s friends like this. No one. So he punched the kid, made him cry quite spectacularly, and pulled Grantaire up to his feet. The bruises that formed on Bahorel’s knuckles the next day made him feel proud. Not of the violence he’d committed, but of the knowledge that Grantaire would never be hurt again, not while Bahorel was around.  

But when adolescence came and Grantaire’s melancholy nature was an officially diagnosed problem, the world started caving in. Bahorel, who had always protected Grantaire from outside forces, had no idea how to protect his friend from himself. Depression was uglier than a bully, nastier than a rain puddle on a cold day, and so unpredictable that Bahorel found himself worrying about his younger friend in every spare moment.

“I love you,” the text would read just moments before Bahorel would lose his nerve and erase it. He’d replace it instead with a “You’re going to get through this” or “I’m always here for you,” but behind it all was love. A love that burned brighter and fiercer than any anger he’d ever felt.

Grantaire would never know, Bahorel decided. How could he put any of these complicated feelings on someone who was trying to stop their own feelings from murdering them? So here he was, years later, cherishing every grin, every joke, every brush of their hands, like a love-sick, romantic idiot. And his love, his dumb love, would protect Grantaire from anything that meant him harm.

Except when it didn’t.

Grantaire had been missing all day and despite his best intentions, Bahorel was starting to assume the worst.

I should have done more, he thought, as he always did. Somehow he’d painted himself as the captain of a vessel on a stormy sea, and Grantaire was always the man tossed overboard. If the sailor died, it was the captain’s fault. Maybe if he’d pushed Grantaire harder to go see a therapist, to talk to someone about what it was like to get shot, then they’d both be on the boat, safe and warm.

The fiery-eyed, angelic rebel—Enjolras—was searching with him, and as they walked side-by-side to yet another bar, Bahorel reflected that he was starting to see why Grantaire found this guy so appealing. Enjolras cared about everything, maybe a little too much, and surely he’d directed that caring towards Grantaire at some point. Bahorel felt Enjolras’ intensity, his unshakeable certainty, as they searched for Grantaire. He would be found without a scratch, and once he was recovered, he’d never go missing again. They would solve all of Grantaire’s problems, and all of the world’s problems while they were at it, in one sitting. So instead of the captain saving the drowning sailor, it was the messiah, effortlessly walking on water.

“Prouvaire found him.” Enjolras’ words were like sunbeams on the stormy sea. He’d pulled out his phone and was rapidly replying to a message. “He was arrested for disorderly conduct.”

They halted outside of the bar they were about to check so Enjolras could find out the details from Prouvaire. Bahorel leaned up against the brick wall of the building. “Thank fuck. Can you tell her to bring him to my apartment?”

Enjolras’ brow furrowed as he stared down at his phone. Bahorel could practically see the sparks flying off his shoulders. It was so easy to tell when Enjolras was angry.

Of course, Bahorel’s mind jumped straight to the worst case. “What happened? Is he hurt?”

“No.” Enjolras’ tone with bitter. “He fucking drunk-babbled to an entire bar about our flu—” He stopped himself. There it was, the caring so much about every little thing that you destroy what’s around you in the process. Bahorel knew this type of person well. In fact, he was one step removed from being that person himself. Enjolras shook his head, recovering from almost sober-babbling to an entire street about their flu vaccination conspiracy. “He said some stuff he shouldn’t have and now we have less of the high ground than we had before.”

Bahorel frowned deeply. “He was drunk? He shouldn’t have been drinking, the doctor said—”

“You’re surprised Tristan Grantaire was wasted?” Enjolras spoke with his head down towards his phone and a scoff in his voice. “God, Prouvaire said the police gave him a ‘talking to,’ what the hell does that even mean?”

Warning flags went up in Bahorel’s mind. He’d already decided that Enjolras cared about Grantaire’s well-being, he’d seen that from himself at the hospital after the shooting. But something about Enjolras’ tone made him wonder about the leader’s true intentions. He kept his voice calm. “Tristan’s drinking is a serious problem, man, and it needs to stop.”

Enjolras still didn’t look up from his phone. “You don’t have to tell me.” He shoved his phone in his pocket. “Prouvaire said she’d meet us at your place, let’s go.”

---

Bahorel paced the carpet in his living room, unable to keep still. He was so afraid of what he’d see in Grantaire’s face when he arrived. What if something was broken beyond repair? What if Grantaire had been sending signals to him over these past few weeks that he’d completely missed? Maybe if he had just looked harder, he could have kept his friend from going through the trauma of getting arrested.

Joly was there too, sitting on the couch, watching Bahorel pace. They looked tired and pale. They were worried for Grantaire, certainly, but if Bahorel knew Joly, they were also worried for the entire world, too. Joly had been taking this flu vaccination situation hard, and Bahorel knew that now more than ever, Joly needed to be sure their friends were safe.

Enjolras sat in the kitchen. Every now and then he’d straighten up and take a deep breath, leaving Bahorel wondering what was going on inside his head.  

Minutes later the front door opened and Prouvaire walked in, with Grantaire trailing behind her. He was limping, head down, hair tussled, eyes red and sunken, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. He looked broken, and it made Bahorel’s heart rip apart.

Before anyone could say anything, Bahorel was over by Grantaire’s side, scooping him up in a gentle bear hug. He felt a little of his anxieties ease when he felt his friend hugging him back, burying his face into Bahorel’s shoulder.

“You scared the shit out of me,” Bahorel breathed out.

“I know, I’m sorry.” Grantaire’s voice was soft. Bahorel could hear a tinge of shame.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Joly’s voice came from the living room. “Sit down, R, so I can look at your side.”

The two pulled away and Grantaire limped over to the couch, sitting heavily. His eyes, Bahorel noticed with a wince, were red and sunken. “They didn’t hurt me.”

Joly knelt down in front of him. “Still, it’s good to check.” They lifted Grantaire’s shirt and carefully peeled away the bandages over his side.

Bahorel stood nearby, mostly focusing on Grantaire, but also glancing at Enjolras to see when he would decide to intervene. It was going to take both of them to convince Grantaire of just much danger he had put himself in.

A tense silence stretched over the living room as Joly examined Grantaire’s slowly healing wound. Bahorel knew they were all wondering the same thing—what had happened at the police station? The way Grantaire stared straight ahead at Bahorel’s pile of weights in the corner of the room made it obvious that something unpleasant was on his mind. Grantaire usually cracked jokes to make tense situation lighter, and the stupid amount of weights Bahorel owned would have made a perfect target.

“Everything looks okay,” Joly said, climbing to their feet. “But I think you know that getting drunk is not the best thing to do with a healing gunshot wound.”

Grantaire let out a small breath through his nose. “Yeah, I know.”

Enjolras rose up from his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “But you did it anyway.”

Grantaire’s jaw worked. He turned around on the couch to face his roommate. “Yeah. Cause that’s just what I do. Dumb things for dumb reasons.”

“That’s your excuse? You just do things because you’re dumb?”

Prouvaire ran a hand through her bright blue hair, clearly picking up on the same unnecessary negativity that Bahorel was sensing. “Enjolras...”

“What? That’s not an excuse! He’s not dumb, he’s capable of rational thought. He knew he wasn’t supposed to drink and he surely knows how easy it is to let go of sensitive information once you’re completely wasted!”

Oh. Now Bahorel understood. This wasn’t about Grantaire’s well-being at all. “Hey, take a step back, okay? We should be supportive, rather than angry.”

Enjolras looked incredulous. “I don’t understand. Is the official story now that Grantaire is just a dumbass and has no self-control? Because he’s not and he does.”

“Thanks,” Grantaire scoffed, miserably.

“You’re welcome!”

“You know damn well that’s not what this is about.” Bahorel’s volume increased a couple of notches. “You’re not actually worried about Grantaire’s well-being, you’re worried about your cause.”

Enjolras uncrossed his arms, taking a step towards Bahorel so that they were face to face.  Righteous anger met protective anger, and it stood only a couple of inches shorter. “It’s all the same to me. My friends are part of my cause and Grantaire risked his fucking life by getting wasted and telling a bar full of strangers that he thinks the government is trying to kill off its lower class.”

“He risked his fucking life by drinking, period.”

Enjolras threw his hands up in the air. “Got it, thanks.”

“And we just need to be supportive, and not blame him for anything.”

There was something working behind Enjolras’ blue eyes as he narrowed them at Bahorel. “Accountability applies to everyone, even people working through depression, or alcoholism, or gunshot wounds.”

“This conversation feels very pointed,” Grantaire mumbled.

Enjolras spoke plainly. “Because it is. And I think if you spoke for yourself and Bahorel took a step back from this situation, we’d have a more productive talk.”

Bahorel leveled his gaze at him. “Productive? Does that just mean you walk all over Grantaire and then make everyone agree with you?”

Grantaire sat up a little. “He doesn’t walk all over me.”

The sparks started flying off Enjolras’ shoulders again. “Stay out of this, R.”

“You got it.”

Bahorel’s head snapped over to Grantaire. “Don’t let him bully you. He’s being a dick.”

“But I did go out and drink,” Grantaire said, “and I did spill the beans on this flu conspiracy. So I deserve to be dicked at.” The room paused and Grantaire shook his head. “That was a weird way to say that, my bad, I’m extremely hungover.”

“You don’t deserve for people to treat you like shit, R.” Bahorel shot his eyes at Enjolras.   

Enjolras took a deep breath, and now Bahorel understood what the breaths were for. Enjolras was trying to withhold his anger, but Bahorel didn’t miss the way the younger man’s hands balled up into fists. Enjolras’ voice was low. “You’re walking a razor-thin fucking line, man. If you have something you want to say to me, just say it.”

“Hey, Enjolras?” Grantaire’s voice came just before Bahorel could open his mouth to reply.

Enjolras whipped around to face Grantaire. “What?”

Grantaire ignored the aura of anger around Enjolras, something Bahorel had noticed he did frequently when his emotions were dead. “Do you know someone named Leon? Like a lawyer?”

The room went deadly quiet. Enjolras’ posture went from rigid to withdrawn in a fraction of a second. The change was so sudden that it made Bahorel take a step back, letting Enjolras look stunned all on his own. But Prouvaire was quick to stand and cast a concerned glance at her friend.

“Yeah.” Enjolras’ voice was scratchy. “Why?”

“After I got arrested they put me in a room, and this police guy came in with a lawyer. And he said that, the lawyer. He said what you said.”

This time, when Enjolras crossed his arms over his chest, it felt less like a semblance of defiance and more like a subconscious attempt at self-protection. “What…what did I say?”

“‘You’re walking a razor-thin line.’ He said that to me, and then he threatened to throw me in prison for the rest of my life if I said anything more about the flu vaccinations.”

Bahorel watched Enjolras’ face pale, his fists clench and unclench, and he watched Prouvaire’s hand touch Enjolras’ back. All of these tiny rituals that meant something to these two people, but Bahorel was left in the dark.

Joly was the first to ask the question. “Who is Leon, besides a lawyer?”

Enjolras’ eyes darted to the door, like he was going to bolt, then to his left, like he was looking for someone who usually stood right by his side. “He’s…my father. Leon Enjolras.”

Bahorel’s eyes widened. He felt an “oh shit” run through the current in the air. “So…your father knows about this flu stuff?”

Enjolras didn’t answer, so Grantaire did. “Honestly, man, the way he was talking kinda made it seem like the whole thing was his idea.”

That was it—Enjolras bolted. He headed straight for the door, with Prouvaire hot on his heels and casting an apologetic look to everyone. Bahorel watched them go. Apparently no one was untouchable; even the messiah had enemies that would nail him to a cross. It was just a matter of when.

“He looks just like him,” Grantaire said in a daze.

Joly sat slowly on the couch. “So you think…Enjolras’ father came up with this idea? That he’s behind giving fake vaccinations and lying to clinics and—”

“Yeah.” Grantaire looked up at Bahorel, his eyes red. “They knew me from the steps at the PR building. They knew that I’d gotten in trouble with the cops before, and now they know about this. I’m on their list, man, I’m on their fucking list and they’re gonna kill me just like they killed her.”

Bahorel sat down next to him, taking Grantaire’s hand and squeezing it hard. “No one is going to hurt you again. Not while I’m around, I promise.”

He could see Grantaire’s eyes desperately searching for the truth of the oath. He obviously wanted to believe it so badly, but the world was caving in again, as it always did. “Okay…okay.”

“I…” Bahorel felt the confession on the tip of his tongue, but as he always did, he lost his nerve. Why was this the only thing in the world he wasn’t brave enough to do? “I’m always here for you, okay? You’re going to make it through this.”

Grantaire nodded and leaned against his friend’s shoulder. Bahorel stared straight ahead, thinking only of the storm they’d gotten themselves into, and the thousand ways to drown, with no messiah in sight.

[forestwater87]

Gwenvid Week Day 6

Day 6: 10 Years Later / Camp Activity

(credit to @ciphernetics for the idea)

David tapped his chin with his pencil, staring down at the blank clipboard thoughtfully and trying to remember what he was supposed to be doing. Gwen had sat him down with his binder, and she’d had an excellent idea — well, she always had excellent ideas…

Focus, David! Camp Campbell depends on you! For….something!

Maybe he would focus better with a granola bar. He was pretty sure Gwen had stashed some of the chocolate-covered ones in their cabin before the campers had descended on them. Another good idea...golly, she really was full of them, wasn’t she? He loved that about her — not that he loved her, obviously, because they were just coworkers and friends and that would be ridiculous, not to mention against the rules.

Then again, he was in charge of the camp, wasn’t he? Didn’t that mean he could make his own rules? Not that he’d make that rule, since he didn’t need to, since they were just --

“David!” The cabin door swung open and Gwen stomped inside, dragging Mr. Campbell by the sleeve.

“I was focusing!” He shot straight up, giving the Camp Campbell salute on reflex. Neither of them returned the gesture, but that was okay. Just one of his employees’ many darling quirks!

Oh. Oh, wow.

He had employees now.

He wasn’t sure if that was exciting or terrifying.

“David,” Gwen snapped, giving Mr. Campbell a look that could freeze lava, “could you remind our former terrible boss that he now works for us, and therefore can’t wander around being a completely selfish asshole who won’t pull his excessive weight?”

Mr. Campbell straightened his clothes, frowning. “I’ll have you know this is all muscle. And I don’t work for either of you! The Millers were very clear that I’m just doing  community service — for free —” he said with a shudder, “— just until I’ve paid off my debt to society. And how long can that be?”

Gwen crossed her arms over her chest. “Say, a decade for every life you’ve ruined? So probably a while.”

His face went pale and a little green at the thought. “That’s...significant. Anyway,” he continued with his usual bluster, the can-do bravado that had always made David admiring and jealous in equal parts, “while I’m here I only take orders from Davey!”

David sighed, returning to his chair. “Now Cameron,” he said, and if there was a tiny shiver of vindictive pleasure at talking down to the greatest outdoorsman (and disappointment) he’d ever known, he wasn’t going to admit it, “I told you that you need to listen to Gwen as if she was me. We’re CBFLs, after all!”

She gave him a small smile, one that glowed in his chest all the way down to his toes. They had each other’s backs. Always had, always would.

“Yes, Gwen! Not this…” Mr. Campbell frowned at Gwen, tugging on the end of his mustache. “I want to say ‘Molly’?”

“Oh for fuck’s — I’m Gwen!”

He raised his eyebrows disdainfully. “That sounds like something Molly would say.”

“Mr. — Cameron, that’s…” David pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to massage away the headache growing between his eyes. “Who do you think Gwen is?”

“You know, that...green-haired woman. With the captivating...eyes. Or…hmm, maybe that short one with the pink in her hair who’s never doing any work?”

Gwen looked like she was going to attempt to punt Mr. Campbell into the lake, so he crossed the cabin and put a hand on her shoulder, waiting for the blaze in her eyes to cool before turning back to their old boss. “Candace was one of the mothers on Parents’ Day,” he explained. “And Ered is a camper. And a child.”

“Really?” Mr. Campbell made a face. “Damn government infecting us with hormones. No wonder she looks like her growth is stunted. Probably damaged her brain too.”

“She’s also the Millers’ daughter.”

“And what an angel she is!”

David sighed, turning back to Gwen. “So you’re going to listen to Gwen, Mr. — Cameron. This Gwen. Who’s in the room with us.”

“Yes, fine,” he muttered, “no need to beat me over the head with it.”

“You should see what I beat people over the head with when they piss me off, sir.”

David sighed again. “Gwen, no hitting anyone with a guitar. Or anything else.”

Once he’d received begrudging agreements that his employees would be on their best behavior, he sent them off to do...whatever they were supposed to be doing. Oh dear, he should know that, shouldn’t he? What kind of boss was he if he didn’t know that?!

For that matter, what was he supposed to be doing?

“Hey, David?”

“I’m not panicking!” he blurted out, whirling around to see Gwen standing in the doorway. “I mean…what can I do for you? Um, buddy?”

Her eyebrows shot up, disappearing under her bangs. “Are you freaking out?”

“Of course not! Everything is going wonderfully! Don’t you think it’s going wonderfully? I’m almost pretty sure it’s going wonderfully!”

“Yeah, okay.” She walked over to him, letting the door slam shut behind her. She knelt down in front of his chair, taking his hands in hers. “Come on, breathe. Every time I squeeze.”

She squeezed his hands, slowly coaxing his breathing and his heart rate back to normal, almost before he’d even realized how high they were. Sometimes it was really nice, having an expert in psychology working at the camp. “Thank you, Gwen!” he said with a small, nervous laugh, fiddling with the hem of his bandana. “I guess I needed that.”

She just watched him for a moment, long enough that he started to feel uncomfortable, but then she seemed to dismiss whatever had been on her mind, standing up and perching on the edge of his desk. She nodded at the binder. “How’s the camp cull going?”

Oh!

Right.

That’s what he was supposed to be doing.

“It’s fine!” he said brightly, turning his attention back to the list of camps and trying to ignore Gwen’s eyes on him.

“You haven’t gotten rid of any of them, have you?”

“Well . . .”

David didn’t know how to explain it to her. She didn’t love camp the way he did; she hadn’t been trotting at Campbell’s side while he paced back and forth across the Mess Hall, scribbling camp ideas on their big rolling whiteboard. She hadn’t watched the possibilities grow like a crack on glass, branching and fracturing and growing and sometimes dying, and it was Davey’s job to scramble up onto Campbell’s rolling desk chair and erase the rejects, and there was no way to explain how thrilling it was to see Camp Campbell truly be born, so how could he expect her to understand why each crossed-off activity felt a little bit like chopping off a branch of the Sleepy Peak Pine?

But he tried, because Gwen had a way of making him try, of coaxing words out of him that he wasn’t always even aware were inside him, or that he was capable of. She reminded him of Max, in that way.

“But not every branch is healthy, is it?” she said when he finally stopped. “Some of them should be cut off.” She’d crossed over to her side of the cabin while he was talking, and now she snagged a box of tissues off her desk and tossed it to him.

He . . . hadn’t realized he was crying.

Gwen rolled onto her stomach, taking her boots off so she could kick lazily at the air. “I’m not trying to be mean,” she said with surprising gentleness.

David laughed, a little damp as he wiped off his face. “I know. When you want to be mean it’s . . . hard to mistake for anything else.”

She snorted, flipping him off before her expression became serious again. “David, it’s just that this isn’t Mr. Campbell’s camp anymore. I know you want to keep the name -- and even though I think that’s kind of stupid, I do get it.”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, because they’d had spirited discussions on the name of the new camp several times. The phrase “delusional hero’s complex” had come up more than once.

“But starting now, every camp on that list is going to unofficially have ‘David Greenwood’ attached to it. And not only should we limit it to things we can actually afford to do safely --”

As she spoke, David sighed and crossed “alligator wrestling” and anything with “sword” in it off the list.

“-- but I don’t know how happy you’d be if someone actually showed up to camp expecting you to do some of these things.”

He frowned. “Like what? And don’t say ‘guess your weight’ camp, because that’s a valuable skill for a number of circus-related professions.”

“Like ‘pray the gay away’ camp,” she replied softly.

“Oh.” He flinched, glancing down at the list again. He traced over the words, worrying his bottom lip. “We haven’t really . . . had anyone for that camp in a while.”

“And what’d you do last time?”

David had only been seventeen at the time, and coming to terms with a bunch of things, so . . . “I think I handed it off to Quartermaster, for the most part. Not sure what they did, but after a few weeks that camper switched to underwater basket weaving. I don’t think I checked to see if he got permission from his parents, because . . . well.”

They were both quiet for a few moments, David looking down at the list and Gwen watching him. Finally he sighed and crossed it off. “What about the other one?”

“‘Pray the straight away’? I mean, it’s hilarious, but can we even do that? Like, I don’t know the legality of it if we don’t have some sort of, I dunno, minister or something.”

“Actually . . .”

She sat up. “You’re fucking kidding me. You are not.”

“Mr. Campbell asked! He said he needed someone to perform a ‘discreet’ wedding for some of his friends. Something about a green card . . .”

Gwen shook her head, laughing. “How much illegal shit have you done?”

“It wasn’t illegal! I just went online and -- the ceremony was actually beautiful,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ll have you know I cried.”

“Of course you did.”

“Still . . .” He crossed it off the list anyway. “Camp Campbell is officially non-denominational. I think. Is that what that word means?”

She climbed off the bed and went to stand over his shoulder, looking down at the list. Once they got rid of everything that was legally or morally questionable . . . “God, that’s a short list.”

David nodded. That’d been what he was thinking, too. “But Camp Campbell is supposed to have something for everyone! There’s barely anything on here!” He’d already have to tell Mrs. Nurfington that they no longer offered Boot Camp. What were they supposed to do with so few activities?

“Hey, breathe.” Her hands alighted on his shoulders, making him jump but then almost immediately calming him. (His mind immediately went to one of Nerris’s spell cards, “Healing Touch,” and with it a warm rush of affection tinged with panic. Goodness, would he be able to provide these kids with the camp experience they all deserved?) “You have room for a lot of new activities now.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “That’s exciting!” Also scary, and a lot of pressure to suddenly throw upon his shoulders, but that was the name of the game now that he was in charge. It was an activity unto itself.

“So, boss,” she said, picking up the binder and pencil, “what have you always wished the camp would do?”

It took him a few seconds to think of an answer. “You know, I’ve always wanted to run a real bird-watching camp . . . oh, and football is a hard sport to play with so few campers, so I wonder if we could do a few more one-on-one kinds of sports. I think Nurf really enjoyed kickboxi -- oh! What about animal handling? I know Quartermaster still has all those kittens from Cat Training Camp, unless he sold them like the last litter . . .”

Gwen shot down a few of his ideas and offered some of her own -- and while David wasn’t thrilled about it, he did think a lot of the kids would really enjoy Video Games Camp -- and by dinner they had a list of activities even longer than the ones Mr. Campbell had created, and his heart was lighter than it had been since he’d acquired the camp.

“Wow, these are amazing! But now we need to make brochures for them. And a new video! And maybe even a website -- I bet Neil could help with that. And --”

“While we’re at it, David,” she interrupted, flipping through the brochures they’d had since Davey was a camper, “we should probably go through the camps we are keeping the same and edit these brochures so they’re a little less . . . you know, full of lies and legally fucked?”

Right, that made sense. Maybe they shouldn’t even have brochures for individual camps at all; maybe that sent the wrong message. Neil certainly had been disappointed by Science Camp “and more,” after all . . . so maybe they’d have to start from scratch. Again. “Oh, dear.”

“Nope, don’t freak out on me.” Gwen stood and put her hands on his shoulders again, steering him toward the door. “That’s a shitshow for Tomorrow David and Gwen. Right now, our only responsibility is pudding.”

“We can’t have dessert before dinner,” he said, letting her lead him to the Mess Hall. “That’s against the rules!”

She grinned -- and the sight was rare, but getting more common every day. He didn’t think he would get tired of it any time soon, though. “Do you own this place or not, Mr. Greenwood? You make the rules now.”

He did.

And tonight, they’d certainly earned pudding.

[cecilspeaks]

131 - Brought to You by Kellogg’s

Today as all days, As every day of your life, Has been brought to you by Kellogg’s. Are you worthy? Welcome to Night Vale.

Hello, listeners. Well, we’ve been having some real budget troubles here at the station, so it does seem that today’s entire broadcast will be a sponsorship message from Kellogg’s. I know that feels like a lot, but it was the only way to keep the station up and running.

Station Management consumes three tons of soil from Paris each month! And it has been massively expensive digging it up and shipping it here. Not to mention all the bribes needed for government officials. All to say that Kellogg’s has agreed to pay for um, uh, let me check, OK. One month of soil shipments in exchange for us exclusively talking about them for the next three years.

Uh. OK. Well that doesn’t sound like the best bargain, but I’ll consult the station’s legal advisor and see if we can get out of that.

Oh, our legal advisor is Laura, who is a server down at the Moonlite All-Nite Diner. Between shifts, she likes to read Wikipedia pages about, mm, law stuff, so we often go to her for her expert opinion. In the meantime, probably best for me to just do what the contract says. This explanation brought to you, of course – by Kellogg’s.

Let’s get to the news. John Peters – you know, the farmer – said that some folks came to his farm. They said they were from Kellogg’s. Said they heard that he grew the finest imaginary corn in the state. Said they were thinking of getting into imaginary Corn Flakes, and that they wanted to buy up his entire crop. He told them that he already had a deal with Flakey-O’s, a good local cereal company, and that he couldn’t go back on his word. One of the folks from Kellogg’s squinted up at the sun, then spit on the ground through tight lips. “Oh,” that person said. “Iii wouldn’t worry about Flakey-O’s.”

To be honest, listeners, I’m now worried about Flakey-O’s.

And now the Community Calendar. This evening is the monthly school board meeting. Topics covered will include updating text books to contain words, rather than runes and diagrams of ritual dances. Hiring a new vice principal after that whole endless cave of suffering mess a few weeks ago, and replacing all food in the cafeteria with cereal. Scientists from the Kellogg’s Institute say that most food has no nutritional value at all. Oh, wow. I did not know that. And that only cereal contains all the protein, vitamins and corn that a body needs to live. Yeah, that seems right.

Thursday, the Boy Scouts are holding their summer bake sale. They will have bowls of cereal and nothing else. The cereal is not available to you. You are available to the cereal.

Friday is now called Kellogg’s day. Mentioning the outdated name for Kellogg’s Day will result in severe fines and disappearances.

OK, I’m actually getting some sort of urgent text from Carlos. Hm. He says that something I’ve said recently is not scientifically accurate, but you know, I don’t have to check what. Kellogg’s isn���t paying me to text. Or maybe they are. You know, it’s not clear what Kellogg’s wants from us.

Saturday morning is the summer softball league’s weekly game, pitting Steve Carlsberg’s Happy Hyeenas against Susan Willman’s Garbage Dump Team. That’s  not the actual name of the team, but it should be. Ugh, Susan Willman! Kellogg’s will be sponsoring the game by replacing the softballs with fistfuls of Apple Jacks and sending employees to hurl boxes of cereal at players.

Sunday afternoon in Grove Park, Sarah Sultan will be offering free meditation classes. Sarah is, of course, a fist-sized river rock, and so is extraordinarily good at staying still and silent. And she wants to pass these skills onto you. Kellogg’s will place a six-inch deep layer of Special K over the entire park, for reasons that are their own.

The Night Vale Metereological Society has issued an extreme heat watch for Monday, saying, “Hey, it’s a desert. In August. It’s probably going to be hot as heck on Monday, and all other days.” Kellogg’s suggests using the sun to cook up some Rice Krispie treats by building a simple solar energy panel and using that to power an electric oven.

And please, set aside all of Tuesday, as Kellogg’s has indicated that they have use for us, all of us, on Tuesday. And then Kellogg’s made this hollow dry laugh that sounded like it came from a long dormant stone well.

This has been the Community Calendar.

In other news, Flakey-O’s executives announced that they are going to stand strong against this current Kellogg’s encroachment. “We are citizens of Night Vale,” said Flakey-O’s chief executive, Leopold Tuesdale. “We’ve been through a lot of terrifying stuff. It’s a real weird town. We’re not afraid of a competing cereal company.” Then he yelped, as the closet in his office opened and the folks from Kellogg’s came out. One of them squinted up at the sun, then spit on the office floor through lips. “I wouldn’t worry about Flakey-O’s,” the person said. And then the Kellogg’s group left the office while Leopold sputtered about how they got in, and why anybody would ever spit on another person’s floor.

Next up, we have traff- oh, oop, nope, OK. Um, [clears throat] I’m being told that traffic has been replaced today by our new segment.

Listeners, I’m… pleased to bring you Common Kellogg’s Questions, in which you ask questions and I answer them, with off the cuff answers that are not written down for me on these carefully scripted cards.

Question number one: How much is too much cereal? My off-hand answer: How much is too much life? How much is too much love? Would you deny yourself blood in your veins? Would you deny yourself dreams in your evenings? There is not too much. There is only ever the deposit and the longing.

OK, question number two: Sometimes it seems my cereal boxes are watching me. I don’t know how else to describe, they-they don’t have eyes or anything, and they’re just sitting there, but it feels like they’re watching me. Just improvising here, but: Certain measures are taken for your own good. Don’t worry about it. it’s fine.

And question number three: Is this coupon for Frosted Mini Wheats still usable? I’ve had it since, like, 2007 but it doesn’t have a date on it. Is it still good? In answer to your questions and for your extemporaneous listening pleasure: Here are ten seconds of a person eating cereal, recorded really really close to their mouth. [crunching noises]

This has been Common Kellogg’s Questions.

Hey, let’s just keep this going. [clears throat] Health tips. Did you know that Corn Flakes cure most cancers? The reason you didn’t know that is that it isn’t true. But we have made a person on the radio say it to you, and now you will remember that he said it and forget that he said it wasn’t true. Because our minds are fallible and easily manipulated. Okey, this is just insulting. Do I really have to… [whispering] Station Management is not happy about my endangering their soil shipment, so let’s just keep moving.

Flakey-O’s chief executive Leopod Tuesdale has vanished under mysterious circumstances. A white van with a Kellogg’s logo pulled up to him as he walked to his car, and a group of people hustled him into a burlap sack and the burlap sack into the van. One of the people stopped to squint up at the sun and then spit on the ground through tight lips, before jumping in and the van roaring off. So I am being ordered by our current sponsors to report that nothing is know about Leopold’s disappearance and there are no clues indicating what happened. You know, probably he just got scared about the quality of his competitors’ products and fled. Happens all the time! All the time, Kellogg’s has asked me to repeat.

Now, let’s see what kind of weather Kellogg’s has deigned to give you.

[“Standard Deviation” by Danny Schmidt]

[booming noise] In the beginning, there was nothing. There was not nonexistent or existent. There was no realm of air, no sky beyond it. What covered in and where, and what gave shelter? Was water there unfathomed, depth of water? Darkness was upon the face of the deep, death was not then, nor was there (ought) immortal.

Then, there was Kellogg’s. Nothing became something. Kellogg’s spread and formed. Kellogg’s became the planets and the stars. Kellogg’s gathered into long strands to become the arms of galaxies, an infinity of Kellogg’s. Space made tangible out of the empty. Kellogg’s became soil and water, it became trees and it became birds, and it learned to sing and it learned to speak.

The first man rose and found the first woman waiting for him, and her name was Kellogg’s, and his name was Kellogg’s, and they shouted in horror at their own mortal forms.

Later, there were cities and before that, there were communities. And it all came from Kellogg’s and was of Kellogg’s and belonged to Kellogg’s. The people knelt and they gave a joyful thanks for their own creation, but Kellogg’s could not hear. It was a heaving dumb creature and it created out of a natural impulse, like how humans bleed, like how birds bleed, like how trees bleed. It did not create out of benevolence. Kellogg’s is not benevolent. It is not evil, either. It is a stone. It is a star. It is every empty distance between the stones ad the stars. It is not capable of morality. It. Is. Kellogg’s. It is – forever.

Once, long ago, the first king looked out over the first kingdom. It was not a very big kingdom, but then, there weren’t a lot of people at that time. Great empires would come later, but at that moment, the world was very small, a stretch of grassland near water. And the person who held that grass land was the king. And the grassland became a kingdom. There were titles given and borders erected. The king felt that he had created something great here, that his name would ring out forever. No one knows his name now. Even 100 years after his death, it was forgotten. The only name that rings out forever – is Kellogg’s.

Once, there was a farmer who lived at the edge of a forest, and she worked her fields. She would look at the forest with longing, because it seemed to her that her life was built only of routines and chores, and that these were the walls that boxed her in. And that by monopolizing her days, these routines were killing her. They were killing her in the sense that they were taking her entire life away from her, and she felt that if she ever got the nerve, one Kellogg’s day evening, she would run into the forest. Maybe it would be scary in there, probably dangerous. She would be less comfortable than she was on the farm, but she would also be truly herself. It was all waiting for her in the forest. She never ran into it. Later, she died while working one of her fields. This story doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters – is Kellogg’s.

Years from now, the universe will disperse. The stars will dim, running out of the energy imbued to them when it all exploded. Planets will become cold rock and molecules will stop forming, and atoms will stop vibrating and it will be still. It will be still forever. Or at least until the next thing. And nothing from this thing will ever see the next thing. [whispers, inaudible] Kellogg’s will watch the universe (-) to (fire) and will help it lay itself to rest. [quietly] And Kellogg’s will wait in the darkness. Will wait as long as it needs to. Forever, or what a human would perceive as forever. Maybe it will wait for ten times as long as this universe ever existed, but eventually, it will stir. There will be water there, unfathomed depth of water. Darkness will be upon the face of the deep, and it will all start anew.

There is a town, and that town is called Night Vale. It exists on a plane in a desert surrounded by the Scrub Lands and the Sand Wastes. Above us are lights that flit about. When they (peer), we (peer) back, wonderingly. We are simple, and we love each other, and we conceal secrets and we hold multitudes, and in this way we are like anyone. We live lives that are rich with meaning and awe. Or we live lives that are heavy with torment and worry, or we live lives that pass by like a Wednesday afternoon and we reach the end and say, “oh my God, was that it?” And it was.

We are a community. Like the king, we have made the world smaller, and in claiming this tiny corner as our entire world, we have created a kingdom. Like the farmer, we eye the forest and contemplate what could be out there if we ever left, if we ever went. But few of us do. And like the universe, we are brought to us – by Kellogg’s. We belong to Kellogg’s, and we are made of Kellogg’s. We cannot understand Kellogg’s, and that may be because the mystery is too complex. Or, it may be because it is as simple as a monolith, and truly there is nothing to understand.

Flakey-O’s is no more. The company has been bought out, with no management left to resist the hostile takeover. It is now a research wing of Kellogg’s, designed to test out a concept that Kellogg’s says they have just invented all on their own. Which is a line of cereal meant for night time only. The new head of this division squinted up at the sun, then spit on their own office floor through tight lips before saying, “Ii wouldn’t worry about Flakey-O’s.”

That’s it for our sponsored show.

Remember: today has been brought to you – by Kellogg’s. And Kellogg’s can take today away.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: Keep your eye on the ball. Keep your lungs on the court. Leave your stomach in the locker room.

[panticwritten]

In-Between Collection #2 Scene 2

A Summons

Table of contents!

All of my writing!

What are the In-Between Collections?

This one happened sometime in the nebulous space that I was kind of pretending the Breaking Furnace daydream wasn’t happening lmao. I think it would have been around chapter 4.

Also, I’m gonna be 20 in two weeks, what is real life

Word count: 1241

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The Original June 22nd 2016

In less than a month in the real world, I’ve progressed years in the new Gravity Falls universe. I haven’t been able to find more than traces of Bill. I’m starting to think I might have to summon him to get him to show his face.

That’s a little hard to swing when I’m trying to convince Stanford not to drop out of Backupsmore. He’s so close to finishing his thesis, the whole thing will be ruined if he doesn’t get through it.

We need funding in Gravity Falls, after all. It’s hard enough to explain where I get my money as it is, but if I could suddenly fund our research it would bring up questions I can’t answer. I doubt it would go over well that I work for an organization that hired me to fuck with his life.

I kneel down to gather another armful of fallen debris. I might be able to get by with checks from the Scouts in the new universe, but I have to actually work in the real world. Preparing firebreaks is mind-numbing enough for me to be able to talk to Kane at the same time, however.

“I still don’t think you had to start so early.”

He keeps pace with me on my back and forth between the tree line and our brush piles. I don’t look at him. I’m not sure how long we’ve been working today. I’m starting to get a headache, and I’m not sure if it’s from the work itself or Kane’s voice.

“I knew he would get closed off later. The only other people he talks to without prompting are his parents and Fiddleford.” I clench my jaw and resist the temptation to fall back into the universe, back into the argument with Stanford. “These days I’m more of a sounding board than an actual person, I think.”

“Genuine affection?” Kane appears in front of me, head inclined. “That’s dangerous.”

I walk right through him.

“I don’t know how much about him I’ve changed just by being there,” I go on as if he never spoke. “But I would never be able to get close enough if I waited much longer.”

“Have you found your contact yet?”

I shake my head, just a little, even in the real world.

“I think he’s tipped his hat at me in the few chances I’ve had to sneak away to Gravity Falls, but—” I stop with a grunt, knelt down to tug a branch back into the road. “—I might have to risk opening my mind to him if I want him to talk to me.”

He makes a thoughtful sound, and I finally take the bait to step back into my full dreamscape. I keep half a mind on my job, but the two of us land back in the Cube to talk. I turn on my heel to face him.

“About time.”

He lounges against the wall with a thick envelope held out in offering. It doesn’t look like a job card, but he doesn’t have any other business to be bothering me with. I make no move to take it, so he holds it up to inspect it under the light.

“I don’t know the last time I had to deliver a summons.” He gives me a side-eye. “Especially to an F-Class Scout.”

I glower and hold a hand out for the envelope. He surprises me by actually handing it over.

“And where am I being summoned to?” I ask while I break the wax sealing it shut.

“The council.”

I pause with the thick paper halfway out of its sheath. I stare down at my hands with the momentary expectation for it to attack.

But, no, it’s just paper. A normal envelope carrying a letter on the kind of stationary I wish I could afford. It’s the kind of thing you’d expect to receive from an Ivy League college or a government official. It’s certainly fancier than the scrolls I normally send notes around the Cube in.

I’ve always gotten the feeling that the council hated me. I’ve only heard whispers, rumors of threats, from the group. I’ve met only one of the members, though I’m almost certain he’s not a good indication of what the council is like.

They’re the ones that hold our lists. They keep track of who they can use as leverage against individual Scouts. They watch us and decide what requires punishment in the form of making those lists shorter.

I manage to only hesitate a few seconds before diving in and reading the letter. It’s a full sheet of paper, but it only bears five words typed neatly in the center.

‘Come at your earliest convenience.’

I fold the paper and shove it back into the envelope. I look back to Kane, who watches me with narrowed eyes.

I won’t let him see that I’m nervous.

I won’t let him see anything.

“Take me to them.”

~-S-~

I try to avoid actually going to the Scouts’ main headquarters. Base. Lair. Whatever. It’s busy, everyone recognizes me, and I don’t like it. I want to keep my work with the Scouts and my identity in the Cube as separate as possible. I’m starting to think that won’t be possible.

I force myself not to look at anyone, at anything. I only take in a vague impression of gray in the halls, the rumble of voices only presenting as a low hum. A few faces jump out at me as more familiar than others, members of The Collective and others I wasn’t aware of being part of the clan.

If they try to talk to me, it doesn’t register.

I focus on Kane instead.

I thought he would lead and expect me to follow. He doesn’t. He walks barely a half-step ahead of me, so I have to watch him out of the corner of my eye. I’ve never seen a trainee walk beside their supervisor.

Then again, Kane hasn’t exactly been treating me like a trainee lately. All of it’s off, ever so slightly. I wouldn’t notice if I didn’t know him so well.

The smile, missing its mocking edge. His stride straight and clipped instead of fluid. Where’s the joke he always seems to be telling just by being present?

He’s normally so difficult to work with. I have to jump through hoops to get an answer. He twists and flips a problem until I come to the conclusion he wants me to, making it sound like it’s my idea. Distracts me when I’m trying to do my job or focus on the real world.

I didn’t have to convince him to hand over the summons.

I think back on it, to when he first offered me my job back. He was his normal self then. He stayed that way until I accepted it. Until I finished training. Until I started the job in Gravity Falls.

No.

He dropped it once. It was the second time I’d ever seen him let go of the persona. When he came to tell me about the new member of The Collective in the Breaking Furnace universe, he was serious.

Almost kind.

Since then, we’ve almost been on the same foot. He only hovers as much as the rules say he has to. He follows me on jobs, reminds me of deadlines, the bare minimum. Other than that, he stays out of my way with just a touch of snark.

“Here we are.”

His voice doesn’t reflect the change at all. Light, a laugh hidden beneath the words. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes when he stops in front of a wide door, though.

I reach for the door, but he grabs my arm. I freeze.

The last time he physically stopped me from doing something, I almost got myself killed. He would have been fine, he’s made of cement. I would have been fine eventually, would have woken up good as new. No one wants to die, though.

It stuck with me, I guess.

“Be careful,” he mutters. “They don’t take well to clever kids.”

He doesn’t let go right away, and that’s probably a good thing. I can’t move, though the desire to flee sears my blood. I shouldn’t have come. It would have been better to take my chances and ignore the council.

The thought flickers and dies when Kane releases me. He opens the door so I don’t have much choice but to walk in.

The door clicks shut behind me to leave me walking down a plush hall on my own. I have to squint in the low light, but there isn’t much to see. A crimson carpet and bare cream walls leading up to a door set at the end of the passage, that’s it.

Dark, warm, red. I hate the cliche of walking down a lion’s throat, but come on. Such a straight, plain hall leaves no room for surprises. It also gives me nowhere to hide if I lose my nerve.

But nothing happens. Nothing peels from the walls on the attack. No shadows move. The big, bad, tongue of a floor doesn’t constrict and drag me into the depths. I reach the luxurious door wound like a spring, but otherwise unharmed.

The room it spits me out in leaves me blind and uneasy. I pause when the door closes, frozen in place. My ears strain, panic pushing me to survey what I can how I can. I’m too aware of everything I’ve heard of the council to push down the fear clawing up my throat.

To believe the silence.

Families going missing. Friends put in the hospital. Children recruited. Punishments, all of it, against disobedient workers. Why would they call me here? If I did something wrong, why would they call for me instead of striking a name?

It occurs to me that I may have been looking at this wrong.

How many lists am I on?

I heard D joined the Scouts just days after I took Kane’s job offer. Half the Cube must be on his with how many strays he picks up. Then there’s the members of The Collective I saw on the way in. Haz, Jezebeth, who knows how many others? Is it too much to hope that they don’t care enough for me to be on theirs’?

I’m not the most rebellious out of us all. If Haz ignores an order or Jezebeth mouths off, could I be a target? If D refuses to hurt someone? If Gray’s out there, she vanishes at the drop of a hat. If it’s decided she needs incentive to stay here, am I on her list?

I know I could take out the council if I wanted to. I could level the entire base, leave a hole in the Cube so deep nothing could crawl out of it. It could be over, the lists and the jobs and the orders.

But I can’t—more accurately, I won’t.

I’ve been hasty before and had it come back to bite me. Destroyed Tchaikovsky’s original compound not long after I left, ended up with the man himself on my doorstep because I convinced myself he was gone.

If that happens with the Scouts, worse will happen than a single nightmare haunting me. I’ve made death too temporary here. No matter what I want, they would come back.

No.

I have to find out what they want like a good little soldier.

I take a miraculously steady breath and unclench my hands. I didn’t realize I’d curled them in so tight. I focus on the sting and imagine the half-moon impressions on my palm when I step out into the dark.

I don’t know if they’ve been watching me—I’m not sure if they could, it’s so dark—but a light flicks on before I take more than a few steps. Before my bearings can become more mixed up than they already are. Before I can trip up the stairs to the raised platform illuminated in the spotlight just in front of me.

I manage not to hesitate to climb onto the circular platform and settle in the center. The dramatics of the whole thing make it feel so staged it’s almost easy to pretend it’s all for show.

Just another performance.

I can do that.

I hold my head high to slide my gaze over the seven figures seated above me. I work to keep myself from showing even a flicker of the defiance or fear I feel, but I know better than to think I fully succeed. I’ve faced worse than the council, but I’ve cracked at less.

I probably should have put on my uniform before coming here, though I haven’t touched it once since receiving it. It might make me seem more conforming. Less like I’m spitting in their face just by existing.

At first glance the council members appear identical. Their white hoods block what little of the light focused on me hitting them, fabric masks cover what the hood doesn’t. Unlike the standard Scout uniform, aside from the arrogance of being white while the rest of us need the black uniforms to keep from being seen, their sleeves cover their arms, snug against the seams of their shorter gloves.

The longer I stand here in silence, though, the more I see.

The hood of the second to the right bulges, the telltale sign of horns or too much hair hidden underneath. Their mirror has a snout, their mask fitted to compensate. A shadow looms behind the center chair, and it takes me a second to recognize them as wings. On the far left, red eyes gleam through the shadows of the hood.

Devon.

I don’t linger on him, wary of revealing I know the guy. I doubt that would help either of us out any.

My chest hurts, the anxiety now physically painful. I don’t know what they’re waiting for. Am I supposed to say something? Am I supposed to suffer and wait? I can’t make a wrong move here.

I might be hot shit in the Cube, but this isn’t my territory. I have too much history of disobedience, too much power. I could sway half of this universe against them if I tried, they know I could walk out of here and unmake them with barely a thought.

But they also know I don’t enjoy ruining the ending of a good story.

And that’s the whole reason I’m here, isn’t it?

So I wait, hands at my sides, obedient. I won’t give them any reason to believe I’m a threat. They’re just as good at setting hidden plots in motions as I am.

“Perry.”

I incline my head rather than speak aloud. I don’t know if I’d be able to hide my surprise at Devon being the one to address me first.

“You have shown remarkable ability, considering how long you were—” he pauses and the others hiss a breath on cue. “—away.”

Do they rehearse these things?

“It’s as if you never left,” he purrs. “Aside from the rebellious attitude you seem to have shed.”

Rebellious attitude.

I lift my head, careful not to move too fast, and turn my eyes on Devon.

I’ve met him once, not long before I ‘went away.’ He was cold and completely ignored me until Kane left the room. His gaze felt like it could read everything about me, but all I could do was glare at him like the little shit I was when I was eight.

I can’t remember what he said, when he finally spoke to me, but it confused me. Something about Kane. I can almost find the shape of the words, but they’ve been lost to time.

The figure in the center chair shifts. Their wings catch the light, though not enough for me to really see them. It would be too easy to identify them if I did, I suppose.

“Your supervisor has hinted that your current classification is restricting both your efficiency and improvement.” The winged council member’s voice snakes through the room, high and smooth. Unfamiliar. “Knowing this, your council has seen fit to elevate you to your previous status.”

I raise my brows, but still say nothing. This isn’t what I expected. Not only am I not being threatened, I’m being promoted? Skipping a classification?

“Your talents are wasted in F-Class—see that you continue to impress.”

Ah, there’s the threat.

“Do you require any clarifications or reminders of what returning to D-Class will require of you?” a thin wheeze asks from the far right. “It has been several years, after all.”

I hesitate.

I remember how it works. My supervisor will fill my PDA with pre-screened jobs for me to choose from instead of handpicking them for me. I have a quota, a balance between jobs of different sizes, that I’m expected to fill. He doesn’t have to shadow me. He technically doesn’t have to contact me at all unless I’m behind, but expecting Kane to leave me alone is laughable.

This is highly unusual.

Both times I was promoted as a kid, Kane walked in and announced it by throwing me an official description of my new responsibilities and a new PDA equipped for them. As far as I know, the council doesn’t do this. This isn’t how this works.

But Kane warned me about being clever. What would they consider cheek? Would asking why they decided to give me the news be presumptuous? Would asking any question be ruled as another strike against me?

In the end, I ask when I’ll be getting my D-Class PDA. The one in my pocket will be useless in my new role.

The winged council member’s face mask strains in a smile, and I can’t help the feeling they’re laughing at me. I don’t move, sure that if I do I won’t be leaving this room.

“It was delivered to your supervisor moments ago,” they say. “You’d better go get it.”

It would be hard to miss a dismissal as pointed as that.

I dip my head in a nod, touch my left hand to my right shoulder in a hasty salute, and turn on my heel. It takes all of my self control not to run.

When I open the door to leave the room, I step out back in the fresh air of forest instead of the terrible hall. A handful of sticks falls from my hand, and I have to re-orient myself. The taste of fear still sticky in my throat, the dreamscape a thick web clinging to my skin.

I’ll have to deal with that later. I have to get the PDA from Kane. I have to sort through the terror keeping me from scooping up sticks with any kind of efficiency. I have to decide if the satisfaction at a promotion makes me a bad person or not.

Leaving a dream is always a lot harder than getting into it, and I’m starting to wonder if I ever really leave them anymore.

[dingoat]

The Right Way | Part Six

[ previous | the beginning | next ]

In the timeline where Crow turned right, Artur Crow got onto the comm as soon as he’d heard about the civil unrest on Ruweln.

“Artur, you old shabuir, is that you?” came the bright, accented voice through the loudspeaker.

“Aye, Jinn, got a possible job opportunity for you ‘n the crew if you’re less than a day’s jump from Ruweln…”

“Oh? We’re listenin’…”

Though they’d never met in person, Artur was familiar with Jinn Charka and her crew, part of the same network of otherwise clanless Mandalorians who would exchange useful information with one another, keeping an ear out for work that might suit another group more than themselves. An honour system, based on fair play and paying it forward; pointing someone in the direction of good credits one day would more than likely have the favour returned in the future. Artur had gotten more than a couple of tip-offs for high target bounties from the odd trio.

Within a day, Jinn, a Zeltron about as beautiful as they come,  her diminutive Chadra-Fan partner Santha, and their young Zabrak friend Bes’laar were on the ground, recovering munitions after a messy bit of action somewhat atypical of political strife in Bothan space.

“Ugh!” Santha exclaimed in disgust, as she and Jinn prowled the rooms of what was proving to be an empty and fruitless bunker. “Ain’t nothin’ but empty shelves and guano in here, love.”

Sighing, Jinn replied. “Same here, cyare. Next set.”

As they walked to the next two doors, Santha suddenly froze, her enormous radar-dish ears swiveling to and fro. Jinn halted beside her, once more on full alert, and waited patiently. After a moment, Santha looked up at Jinn, and whispered, “End room. Tryin’ real hard to be quiet. Rapid heartbeat. Small thorax.”

Jinn nodded once, and they double timed to the end of the hallway, taking up positions on either side of the doorway. Santha held up the three fingers on her offhand, and deliberately closed one at a time. As she clenched her fist, Jinn stepped into the doorway, autocannon ready, her stance wide. Santha knelt close behind her, framed by her partners long legs, the muzzle of her blaster carbine sweeping the room.

Huddled in a corner, ineffectually attempting to hide behind a lonely durasteel crate, was a giant pair of eyes between a pair of overly large, droopy ears. There was a little squeak, and the eyes dropped below the level of the crate. Jinn gasped, immediately put her enormous weapon aside, and removed her bucket, shaking out her dark pink hair, damp with sweat.

 ***

Jinn and Santha hadn’t ever discussed children at any length; biology being what it was, they weren’t exactly going to become parents by accident, or have a biological child of their own. But the day Jinn tugged that tiny Bothan girl out from behind a crate and set her on her hip, they both realised that accidental parenthood could happen to even the most unlikely of couples.

The little Bothan, who they guessed at anywhere between six and eight years, never really said a lot during the first couple of weeks after they took her in. Jinn and Santha put it down to shell-shock, but it made it near impossible to track down any family. Bothan missing persons lists were not readily available to offworlders, and neither of the Mandalorian women found they could bring themselves to leave the child with what struck them as singularly cold and disinterested officials.

She never even gave them a name, but quickly earned one for herself. A meek little shadow, she clung close to the heels of her adoptive parents and ‘Auntie’ Bes, showing next to no inclination to wander off on her own. Ahuska; a name roughly meaning ‘one who accompanies’ in their native tongue, first became the word they used to refer to the girl. It started out as a bit of a joke; Santha would laugh, watching the fuzzy little Bothan toddle after Bes’laar. “Look, it’s a Melody-“ she said, using the Basic translation of the zabrak’s name. “And her Accompaniment!” As time went on and Ahuska gave them nothing further to work with, it became her name in every proper sense.

It was Bes’laar’s idea to get the quiet, attentive girl a pet, and the Akk pup they dropped into her lap one afternoon caused Ahuska to really begin to open up. Quiet and shy became bubbly and inquisitive, and those days became Ahuska’s earliest conscious memories.

In years to come, Jinn and Santha would never fail to state that their trip to Ruweln was easily the most fruitful scavenging trip of their lives.

--------

In the timeline where Crow turned left, Jinn never received the tip-off to head to Ruweln. By the time she and her crew heard about the skirmish and upended government, they were reasonably certain the site would have already been picked clean.

The little Bothan girl wouldn’t be picked up for another five days, at which point hunger had driven her from the bunker and out into the streets. And it was hunger that saw her lurking around the camp of a small handful of Mandalorians, called in discreetly by government officials to round up stray insurgents and deal with them in varying degrees of finality.

The galaxy at large generally saw Mandalorians as savage, brutal, unforgiving. But there were few who wouldn’t have their hearts plucked at by children in need of a home.

Dirty, wary, and skinny as could be, the little Bothan trailed after their camp. Their little Ahuska’a, their accompaniment, was quickly won over by some decent food in her belly, and likewise won over the warriors with her cautious but fierce little attitude. They took her in without even making an attempt to locate her family, making the casual assumption that if they were alive, they’d have surely been visibly searching for their daughter in the blast-charred streets.

And so Ahuska’a came to Concord Dawn, the newest recruit of Aliit Ga’ihlr. She was quiet, barely spoke a word, but was attentive and obedient, quick to answer the Alor’s call and an eager, if somber participant of group activities. She gravitated toward the pack of rangy Anooba that the clan kept, and in the ever practical way of the people was promptly given duties concerning their care.

One morning, almost a month down the line, Ahuska woke to a buzz of heightened energy about the clan stronghold. Pulling herself out of her bed, she padded barefoot out to the common area, squinting against the sun that was already far too high. Clanmates were gathered, milling about, laughing, exclaiming, slapping each other on the back. It didn’t take her long to recognise the fact that there were strangers here, at least a dozen young warriors she’d never seen before.

“Hus’ika!” Kartja, one of the clanmates who’d originally recovered her from Ruweln waved her over brightly. “Come meet the rest of your Vode!”

Bobbing her head, the little Bothan, already sporting her first set of lightweight armour plates, trotted up to the brawny woman who’d called to her.

“Youngsters are back from a campaign,” Kartja beamed, motioning toward the nearest trio who stood together, arms about one another’s shoulders, already bragging about some misadventure or other. “Been gone the last three and a half months, and it looks as though most have come home to us.”

Ahuska’a took them in, wide-eyed. Most were human, as she’d come to accept was the norm in her new home, but there were a few other aliens about, including a couple of species she’d never seen before. The broad-shouldered, four-armed reptilian being who seemed to prefer his beskar’gam without a flight suit, she later learned was an Annoo-dat, while the squat, bug-eyed Gand was a type she’d heard about, but had never seen in the flesh. She was fascinated, her oversized ears lifting and huge blue eyes blinking out at the constant exchanges of good cheer, strong embraces and good-natured shoulder punches. A few of them went out of their way to come by her, crouching down, offering a grin or a pat on the head, while Kartja largely spoke for her.

When it all became a bit much, Ahuska’a retreated to her sanctuary, around the back of the compound where the Anooba were kept.

And it was there that he found her, some hours later.

“Hey there, new kid!” His tone had an unusual brightness to it that immediately caught Ahuska’a’s attention. “Fancy a scrap?”

She blinked at him, suddenly desperate to find her voice. “I…”

The Anooba pup curled against her side lifted its head and thumped its tail heartily against the ground.

The young warrior, somewhere in his late teens or possibly just pushing past twenty, flashed the little Bothan an impossibly broad and utterly infectious grin.

“I don’t know.. h-how,” she stammered, frowning intently. “I don’t think I’d be… much good…”

He stepped forward, bending down to give the pup a rough pat between the ears, and then give one of the Bothan’s ears a little tweak. His eyes were sparkling, the brightest blue she’d ever seen. “Ah, come on, Pout Snout!” The way he said it was an endearment rather than an insult, and Ahuska’a felt her tiny heart swell like she’d never felt before. “You’ll be fine!”

He offered her an arm, and she grasped hold, letting him tug her up to her feet.

“I heard you got adopted into the clan a few weeks back. Me, it was years ago, now, but I’m the same as you. Didn’t have any other family till Ga’ihlr took me out of the Coruscant undercity. Never looked back, and you’ll like it just as much, you’ll see. What do they call you?”

“Hus’ika,” she answered, a tiny, shy squeak. She gulped, and tried again. “Ahuska’a.”

“Cute,” he grinned. “I’m Mar’an. You can bring your little pup there, let’s have a little spar somewhere out of everyone’s way, hey? I’ll talk you through it…”

She clung to his hand as he lead her off, and as time wore on it seemed she was never quite willing to let it go.

-------

I was looking forward to this bit!! This time it features a bunch of characters created by my husband, @nutterbutterbox , as well as a chunk of writing lifted directly from the piece he’s been putting together for me regarding Ahuska’s adoption. Jinn, Santha and Bes’laar are all designed by him and I love her adorable family. <3

[my-one-love-is-music]

It Takes Two Ch. 16

Also on AO3!

“Try not to scare the people in the van anymore than you have,” Tim sighed as Jason lifted his leg from the man in front of him.

Jason knelt down and gripped the man by the color, making him wince and hiss in pain as it jostled his now broken leg. “I think it’s about time you start talking,” he said, voice low. “Unless you’d rather have more bones broken or a bullet in your head. So, don’t make me ask again, what are you doing driving around in the middle of the night picking up people off the street?”

His eyes roved from side to side, almost as though he was searching for some kind of escape. Jason tightened his grip on his collar.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“Okay, okay,” he sighed. “We were told to find people who wouldn’t be missed and wouldn’t put up a fight.”

“Why?”

He opened his mouth to reply when his head was forced to the side from the force of a bullet. Another one glanced off the pavement and Tim and Jason slipped around the side of the van, using it to shield themselves from the sniper that was shooting from across the street.

“Where the fuck did a sniper come from?” Jason hissed.

“Looks like whoever these guys are working for are being watched by their employers.” More bullets rattled off the side of the van. “And they don’t take too kindly to having their secrets spilled to vigilantes.”

“Get the other driver into he back of the van. I’m going to get in the front and get us the fuck out of here. We can’t risk the kids in the back getting shot.”

Tim nodded. “I’ll get both bodies if I can.”

“Fuck the second body.”

“It could give us information. There could be something on it because I’m assuming you haven’t searched the pockets yet.”

“Fuck, fine,” Jason sighed. “You get one body and I’ll get the other.”

They both darted out from behind the van, each grabbing hold of one of the bodies. Jason threw the dead body into the back to the muffled screams of the tied up teens. Tim shoved the body he was carrying inside as bullets rained down over his head. He clumsily climbed inside as Jason hurried around the side for the drivers’ seat. Tim pulled the back doors of the van shut as the engine revved and jolted forward.

“What’s going on?” the two in the back asked.

“We were getting attacked and needed to move,” Tim said, crawling over them to the wall that separated him from Jason.

“Is he dead?” the girl asked softly.

Tim sighed. “That’s not important right now.” He pulled the slat open and was able to see part of the front seat and windshield.

“Where are you headed?”

“As far from here as I can get,” Jason grit out, hands tight on the wheel.

“Any sign we’re being followed?”

“No, but keep watch out of the back of the van. I can’t watch all sides at once and drive at the same time.”

Tim stepped back over the bodies and peered out the rear window. He caught sight of a figure on one of the rooftops and he squinted, trying to get a better look, but the figure who he thought might be the sniper that had shot after them, morphed into the figure of Batman as he jumped from one building to the next.

“No sign of the sniper, but we’ve got an annoying tail on us,” Tim called.

Jason groaned as he jerked the steering wheel to the side, swerving down a side street and sending the people in the back sliding across the floor.

“Please tell me it’s not B,” he said.

“If I did I’d be lying.”

“Fuck,” he cursed.

Batman grappled from the buildings across the street so he could continue following them across the rooftops.

“You might want to find somewhere secluded to pull over. I don’t think he’s going to leave us alone so easily so we might as well get this over with.”

“Fine, hold on,” he sighed and swerved again, turning down an alleyway and reaching a small lot between the buildings. Jason threw the car into park and walked around the side of the van, pulling the rear doors open. Tim hopped down as Batman landed in the alley, keeping to the darkest of shadows even though there was no light around them.

“What do the two of you think you’re doing?” he asked, walking forward as the cape ruffled around his feet.

“Gathering intelligence,” Jason said. “Which would’ve gone fine if you hadn’t interrupted.”

Tim reached out and put a hand on Jason’s arm. He could feel the spark of anger flash through his veins and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t annoyed himself.

“There are two kidnapped teenagers in the back of the van.”

Bruce sighed. “I thought I told you to keep off patrol?” he asked.

“Hood’s healed and I’m fine. We’re working together so we can watch each other’s backs,” Tim explained. “We need to figure out how to fix this and you’ve done nothing so far so we decided to take matters into our own hands. And, more importantly, these kids would be gone right now if we hadn’t been here.”

Jason’s hand came to rest on his lower back and Tim leaned into the touch.

“Get the kids out of the back of the van,” he sighed. “And whoever was kidnapping them.”

Tim climbed back in the van and used one of his birdarangs to cut through the tape that was wrapped around their wrists and feet. He helped them from the van and Bruce immediately started talking to them and reassured them.

“I’ve sent in a call to the police. They’re on their way and they’re going to want to talk to you. We’ll get you home as soon as we can.”

The boy nodded and the girl wrapped her arms around herself, looking around the alley.

Jason pulled the other two bodies from the back of the van, the dead body thumped to the ground making the girl jump and the other man struggled, eyes wide as he caught sight of Batman now that he’d come back to consciousness.

Jason grabbed the hair on the top of the head of the man who was struggling and wrenched his head back at an awkward angle. Tim could see him swallow nervously and felt a spark of satisfaction.

“Now you listen to me,” Jason hissed. “You are going to tell me who hired you and why. What were you doing going around in the middle of the night to pick up people off the street?”

“I-I-I can’t tell you,” he stuttered.

“You can and you will,” Jason said, shaking him. “Who do you work for? A mob boss? A scientist? The government?”

The man stilled in Jason’s hold.

“Which is it?” he asked, shaking him.

“A-a scientist mainly. He tells us how many people he needs and what kind of people he needs, but we’ve also seen some government officials or important looking people around. We don’t interact directly with them so I don’t know who they are, but there’s someone important backing this guy.”

Tim stilled, feeling the blood in his veins turn ice cold like it had when he’d first been going through the medical files from the hospital. Anger mixed with his own anxiety and Tim watched as the man shifted uncomfortably as Jason’s hand tightened in his hair.

“Where do you take these people?” Tim asked.

The man glanced over in his direction.

“Answer the question,” Jason snarled and Tim heard the girl squeak behind them.

“I-I dunno!”

“You don’t know?!”

He winced. “What, what I mean is, I don’t know where they go in the end. I’m given a location to pass off the people and they’re taken to the holding facility or lab or whatever it is they’ve set up. I drop off the bodies and I get paid, that’s all I can tell you.”

“Where were you supposed to meet tonight?” Jason growled.

“The-the-the west end of the narrows. There’s a courtyard between a group of apartment buildings that’s large enough for two vans to get into. It’s the only one in the area and if you’re looking down from the roofs of the buildings you can’t miss it.”

“You better not be wrong,” Jason said, releasing his grip on his head. He slumped forward and sucked in a shaky breath.

Jason fired his grapple to the roof, flying up without looking back.

“Hood!” Tim called after him but he disappeared over the rooftop. “Shit,” he cursed.

“Red Robin,” Bruce said, voice low.

“I can’t leave him alone in case he gets hurt,” Tim explained quickly before firing his grapple.

“Red Robin!” Bruce called after him, but he ignored it in favor of tracking Jason’s progress across the rooftops.

He didn’t manage to catch up and Jason didn’t seem to be slowing until they got to the opposite side of the Narrows. He skidded to a stop at the edge of a rooftop and Tim landed next to him, bracing his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“You could’ve waited for me you know,” he said between gasps.

“I didn’t want to risk them possibly getting away if they were already here. We don’t know what their schedule is for the pick-up,” Jason said. He fired his grapple again and jumped from the side of the building, swinging down to the alley.

Tim sighed and followed after him, gravel skidding off his boots. He landed heavily and looked around the buildings around them.

“Do you really think they’re going to show up?” he asked.

The sound of wheels skidding caught their attention and the bright lights from a van swerved around the corner. It raced forward, covering the small distance quickly as it aimed for Jason and Tim where they stood in the middle of the courtyard. An arm wrapped around Tim’s waist and Jason fired his grapple, pulling them both out of the way of the speeding van as its wheels screeched and it turned to face them, barely breaking before it was chasing after them again.

“Fuck,” Jason hissed and fired his grapple to the roof, pulling them from the ground as the van barreled through the space they’d been standing in a second ago.

A muffled clanging noise sounded and their progress upwards halted before they started falling towards the ground. Tim barely managed to catch sight of the severed cable of Jason’s grapple gun. He pulled his own free from his belt and fumbled with it, trying to ignore the pavement that was racing towards them. He fired off a shot, but the cable didn’t retracted quickly enough and it only managed to slow their descent as they swung down towards the ground.

Jason’s grip around his waist broke at the impact and they both rolled. Tim ignored the stinging across his skin, from both his and Jason’s impact, as gravel dug into him. He struggled to get his arms underneath him and pushed himself up onto his knees.

The lights from the van trained on both of them and the engine revved. A hand wrapped around his arm and Jason pulled him to his feet, causing them both to back up a couple steps.

“You got your grapple?” Jason asked.

Tim retracted the line and readied it at his side. “Yup.”

“Sniper severed my line,” he said.

“So we gonna run for it?” Tim asked.

“It’s not every day we get to try and outrun a van.”

“Split and head for the opening and then when we get cover use the grapple?”

“Yup,” Jason said.

The engine revved again and they both braced themselves. They didn’t even count off before they sprinted in opposite directions like they could read each other’s minds and knew the moves they were going to make. The van’s wheels screeched as it slammed forward and fought to turn to chase down one of them. A bullet glanced off the pavement next to Tim’s foot and he swallowed, pushing himself harder towards the mouth of the alley.

He saw Jason in his periphery and he reached out for him as they came back together, ducking out of sight in the narrow alley from the shooter. Van wheels screeched behind them.

“Hold on,” Tim said as he readied his grapple shot. Strong arms wrapped around his waist and he shot the grapple. The ground feel away from under their feet with a violent tug as they whisked through the air to the opposite row of buildings as the van burst out of the alley.

Tim hissed when they landed on the opposite rooftop. Jason’s feet landed first and the hold on his waist forced him to the roof harshly, gravel digging into his cheek and chin. He grit his teeth when the brunt of Jason’s weight landed on his back and knocked the air out of his lungs.

“You okay?” Jason asked, rolling off him. He grabbed his arm and helped push him to his knees.

Tim kept his breathing even through the lingering pain and gave a weak smile. “We should probably get out of here. I don’t know how long it’s going to take that sniper to track us again and who knows who’s in the van.”

“I’ll check and see if it’s all clear,” Jason said, moving to the ledge of the rooftop. He raised up on his knees and peered over the edge before ducking back down.

“I dunno about the sniper, but the van’s gone. Probably back to their hideout or base wherever that’s set up.”

“Shit,” Tim hissed, rubbing the lingering pieces of gravel from his chin. “We should get going.”

“And where are you going to run off to this time?”

Tim sighed, shoulders sagging before he turned to face Bruce. He had his arms crossed and was standing above them, large frown pulling at his lips.

“Care to explain why you’re out patrolling when I specifically said not to?” he asked, voice firm and unforgiving.

“Because you’ve been doing a whole lot of nothing,” Jason shot back.

Tim sighed.

“We’re taking care of it,” Bruce said.

“Look,” Tim said. “Like I said before, Jason’s healed and we’re both fine. Let us patrol together. We can watch each other’s back and make sure we stay safe. We need to make some sort of progress on this case. Those kids we found are proof that things haven’t stopped with us and something bigger is going on.”

Bruce sighed and Tim knew he would’ve pinched the bridge of his nose if he was able. “Did you even take the time to look over the van that you’d stopped? Did you take the time to learn anything about the kind of people we’re dealing with?”

“We were kind of busy avoiding the shots a sniper was firing at us,” Jason grumbled.

“I know and didn’t you find it curious that there was a sniper at the ready when this van was just going around kidnapping people?”

“Yes!” Tim said, throwing up his hand. “And what is your explanation for that?”

Bruce was silent.

“Look, we can help and we can fight. As long as Jason and I stay together while we patrol, we can watch each other’s backs and stay safe to make sure neither of us become incapacitated,” Tim continued. “If you’re that worried, we can have an alert made that can go out if something really bad happens to us.”

“Fine. I will allow it on that condition. For now, head back to the Cave and we will develop the alert immediately, but no more patrolling for tonight.”

Tim sighed, feeling like he’d managed to have one victory after weeks of being at the mercy of everything.

“Fine,” Tim agreed.

“Fine,” Jason said.

Tim turned towards the opposite side of the building and Jason followed.

“Oh, wait,” Tim said and turned. “You wouldn’t happen to have an extra grapple we could borrow do you? Jason’s cable got broken from the sniper.”

“You got yourself into this mess, you can get yourself out of it. You insisted on being able to patrol so this is the kind of thing you’re going to have to figure out in the field. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Tim rolled his eyes behind his domino and turned on his heel. He sprinted to the edge of the building and jumped across the alley, Jason following behind him.

“I guess we’re going to be pretty close as we grapple back across Gotham,” Jason said lightly.

Tim couldn’t stop the smile that pulled at his lips. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

They stopped at the first pass from one street to the other. Tim handed his grapple to Jason and jumped on his back, wrapping his arms and legs around Jason’s torso.

“Ready?” Jason asked as Tim tightened his hold.

“Yup, let’s go.”

Jason fired the grapple and made sure it caught before he jumped from the edge of the building. The speed of the fall wasn’t what Tim was used to, but the line pulled taught above their heads and let them swing from one side of the street to the other.

Jason landed heavily on the rooftop with a grunt and Tim felt a jolt of pain go through him since he’d been unable to roll to avoid the impact with Tim on his back. Tim released his grip and fell from Jason’s back.

“We’re going to need to figure out how to do that better,” Tim groaned as he pushed himself to his feet. “Maybe I should hang in front of you so you can roll onto your back.”

“You really want to try that?” Jason asked, retracting the grapple line. “I’m not sure how that could be much better.”

“I think it’s the only chance we have of making it work without you risking tearing up your knees every time you have to make a landing,” Tim said.

Jason sighed and rolled his shoulders. “Okay, we can give it a shot.”

They sprinted across several other rooftops before they came to a street crossing where they had to grapple again. Tim koala-hugged Jason from the front as he fired the grapple. Jason wrapped an arm around Tim’s back and gave him a squeeze before letting go to handle the line. He jumped from the edge of the rooftop and the line pulled as they swung over the street and up to the next roof.

Jason pushed off the roof and rolled on his side and back before using his hand to stop his momentum. Tim winced at the pressure against his arms and legs from the roll, but it was less painful than the first landing Jason had done.

“You good?” Jason asked, wrapping his arm around Tim’s back.

“Yeah,” Tim said, carefully extracting his limbs. “Let’s keep going.”

If you enjoy my work, please reblog or consider buying me a ko-fi!

[religioused]

When Might Makes Right

by Gary Simpson

John Chapters 18:1-40 (CEV)

When Jesus had finished praying, he and his disciples crossed the Kidron Valley and went into a garden. Jesus had often met there with his disciples, and Judas knew where the place was. Judas had promised to betray Jesus. So he went to the garden with some Roman soldiers and temple police, who had been sent by the chief priests and the Pharisees. They carried torches, lanterns, and weapons. Jesus already knew everything that was going to happen, but he asked, “Who are you looking for?”

They answered, “We are looking for Jesus from Nazareth!” Jesus told them, “I am Jesus!” At once they all backed away and fell to the ground.

7 Jesus again asked, “Who are you looking for?” “We are looking for Jesus from Nazareth,” they answered. This time Jesus replied, “I have already told you that I am Jesus. If I am the one you are looking for, let these others go. Then everything will happen, just as I said, ‘I did not lose anyone you gave me.’”

10 Simon Peter had brought along a sword. He now pulled it out and struck at the servant of the high priest. The servant’s name was Malchus, and Peter cut off his right ear. Jesus told Peter, “Put your sword away. I must drink from the cup that the Father has given me.”

12 The Roman officer and his men, together with the temple police, arrested Jesus and tied him up. They took him first to Annas, who was the father-in-law of Caiaphas, the high priest that year. This was the same Caiaphas who had told the Jewish leaders, “It is better if one person dies for the people.” Simon Peter and another disciple followed Jesus. That disciple knew the high priest, and he followed Jesus into the courtyard of the high priest’s house. Peter stayed outside near the gate. But the other disciple came back out and spoke to the girl at the gate. She let Peter go in, but asked him, “Aren’t you one of that man’s followers?”

“No, I am not!” Peter answered.

18 It was cold, and the servants and temple police had made a charcoal fire. They were warming themselves around it, when Peter went over and stood near the fire to warm himself. The high priest questioned Jesus about his followers and his teaching. But Jesus told him, “I have spoken freely in front of everyone. And I have always taught in our meeting places and in the temple, where all of our people come together. I have not said anything in secret. Why are you questioning me? Why don’t you ask the people who heard me? They know what I have said.”

22 As soon as Jesus said this, one of the temple police hit him and said, “That’s no way to talk to the high priest!” Jesus answered, “If I have done something wrong, say so. But if not, why did you hit me?” Jesus was still tied up, and Annas sent him to Caiaphas the high priest. While Simon Peter was standing there warming himself, someone asked him, “Aren’t you one of Jesus' followers?”

Again Peter denied it and said, “No, I am not!”

26 One of the high priest’s servants was there. He was a relative of the servant whose ear Peter had cut off, and he asked, “Didn’t I see you in the garden with that man?” Once more Peter denied it, and right then a rooster crowed. It was early in the morning when Jesus was taken from Caiaphas to the building where the Roman governor stayed. But the crowd waited outside. Any of them who had gone inside would have become unclean and would not be allowed to eat the Passover meal.

29 Pilate came out and asked, “What charges are you bringing against this man?” They answered, “He is a criminal! That’s why we brought him to you.” Pilate told them, “Take him and judge him by your own laws.” The crowd replied, “We are not allowed to put anyone to death.” And so what Jesus said about his death would soon come true.

33 Pilate then went back inside. He called Jesus over and asked, “Are you the king of the Jews?” Jesus answered, “Are you asking this on your own or did someone tell you about me?”

35 “You know I’m not a Jew!” Pilate said. “Your own people and the chief priests brought you to me. What have you done?” Jesus answered, “My kingdom doesn’t belong to this world. If it did, my followers would have fought to keep me from being handed over to the Jewish leaders. No, my kingdom doesn’t belong to this world.”

37 “So you are a king,” Pilate replied.

“You are saying that I am a king,” Jesus told him. “I was born into this world to tell about the truth. And everyone who belongs to the truth knows my voice.”

38 Pilate asked Jesus, “What is truth?” Pilate went back out and said, “I don’t find this man guilty of anything! And since I usually set a prisoner free for you at Passover, would you like for me to set free the king of the Jews?” They shouted, “No, not him! We want Barabbas.” Now Barabbas was a terrorist.

Reflection:

The symbolism of the location where Jesus was arrested probably was not lost on the first followers of Jesus. Because of Jesus, the Garden of Gethsemane is the Garden of obedience. There is a small stream called the Brook of Kidron, which means “dusky” and “gloomy" because the water was stained by blood from temple sacrifices.(1) In the Kidron Valley, close to the stream stained with sacrificial blood, close Garden of Gethsemane, a garden that can symbolize suffering.(2) The valley is a symbol of rejection and betrayal going back to the time King David was rejected by the nation and betrayed by his son, Absalom.(3) And it was in this deeply symbolic and meaningful location that Jesus was arrested and betrayed by one of His disciples. The passion of Christ moves into its final stages, steps that culminate at the empty tomb that we celebrate on Easter Sunday.

The group who came to arrest Jesus included Officers of the Temple, the Temple police, a Jewish police force that helped keep order and carry out orders from the Sanhedrin, and Roman soldiers.(4) There is a wide range of opinions about how many soldiers came to arrest Jesus. The number of soldiers is unknown, but the term used could place the number in the range of 1,200 cavalry soldiers and 600 infantry soldiers to as few as the range of under 200 soldiers.(5) R.V.G. Tasker, who wrote the Tyndale New Testament Commentary for John, thinks there were 600 soldiers.(6) Contributors to the Zondervan NIV Commentary come down on the side of 600 soldiers.(7) Henry Hailey appears to think there were 500 to 600 soldiers.(8) Even if the lowest number of soldiers given by theologians were present, the number of soldiers involved in Jesus' arrest was significant. Barclay notes that they sent "an expedition" to arrest an unarmed carpenter.(9) He states that the fact that the authorities sent "almost an army" to arrest Jesus is a "compliment to the power of Jesus."(10)

In the passage we read of Jesus asking who the authorities are seeking. They say that they are looking for Jesus. Instead of choosing to slip away, which Jesus might have been able to do,(11) Jesus identified himself as the one they were seeking. Bible scholar and commentator William Barclay says this shows that Jesus chose to die, observing that Jesus “even helped his enemies arrest him. He chose to die.”(12) Jesus act can be considered to be an act of “protective love.”(13) Theologian R.V.G. Tasker also holds that position, stating, “He gives Himself up to His assassins,” so “His disciples should retain their freedom.”(14) The Interpreter’s Commentary observes, “Here Jesus is in full control of what happens. His arrest is not possible without his voluntary submission.”(15)

When Jesus first identified himself as the person the authorities were seeking, all of the soldiers fell backward. This shows the power that Jesus had. Respected commentator Matthew Henry describes the soldiers as falling back like they were “thunder-struck.” He notes that Jesus could have killed the soldiers.(16)

There are some parallels between the problem faced by Jesus' society and our contemporary society. Jesus was an unarmed progressive rabbi. He advocated radically different approaches, but He was no military threat to the Roman government and it is possible that 600 soldiers came looking for Jesus. The religious leaders and Roman officials of Jesus' day did not know that might does not make right. Sadly, some contemporary secular and religious leaders also do not know that might does not make right.

Roughly a year after George Floyd’s death while he was in police custody, one of the police officers was convicted of killing George Floyd. The world watched the nine-minute video clip of George Floyd, as he took his final breaths. The last minutes of his life resulted in worldwide protests, including in the city where I live. There were months of protests across some cities in the United States. Portland moms came out to stand between the police and protestors. The goal was to help prevent violence. If memory serves me right, Portland Dads came out with leaf blowers and blew the mace away from the Portland Moms and the protestors. I am not sure if the Portland Dads got involved due to concerns about the impact of mace and pepper spray on pregnant mothers and developing fetuses.

Probably like no other event in the last 50 years, the death of George Floyd focused world attention on both systemic racism and the evils of racism. Regardless of what we think about George Floyd, his death spotlighted an important topic – racism.

At George Floyd’s funeral, his young daughter told President Joe Biden, “Daddy changed the world.” When Joe Biden phoned after the jury found a police officer guilty in connection with Floyd George’s death, Joe Biden told George Floyd’s daughter, “Daddy did change the world.”(17) The police officer who knelt on George Floyd’s neck might have thought might makes right will solve any problems they had detaining George Floyd. And things mushroomed as George Floyd became a symbol. A few religious leaders and Roman officials might have thought that might makes right would rid the world of the influence of a radical Jewish teacher. Instead, Jesus' crucifixion resulted in an enormous increase in Jesus' influence. From a small, dedicated group of disciples, the followers of Jesus grew into one of the largest religions in the world, a religion that counts its adherents in the billions, not the millions or hundreds of millions, but the billions. And many non-Christians appreciate the teachings of Jesus.

John Chapter 18 is relevant well beyond the Easter season. The chapter might encourage us to think carefully before we employ might makes right in our personal, church, provincial and national problem-solving strategies. Problems oppressed and squelched can become unsolved problems. And chapter 18 can call us to continue denominational work regarding racism.

Notes

(1) Warren Wiersbe. The Bible Exposition Commentary. Vol. 1. (Wheaton, Illinois: Victor Books, 1989), 372.

(2) Wiersbe (1989), 372.

(3) Wiersbe (1989), 373.

(4) William Barclay. The Daily Study Bible. The Gospel of John. Vol. 2 Revised ed. (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1975), 222.

(5) Barclay (1975), 222.

(6) R.V.G. Tasker. Tyndale New Testament Commentaries: the Gospel According to St. John. (Leicester, England: Inter-Varsity Press, 1983), 196.

(7) Kenneth L. Barker and John R. Kohlenberger III. Zondervan NIV Bible Commentary, Vol. 2. (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Zondervan Pub., 1994), 359.

(8) Henry Halley. Pocket Bible Handbook. (Chicago, Illinois: Henry Halley, 1951), 490.

(9) Barclay (1975), 222.

(10) Barclay (1975), 223.

(11) Barclay (975), 223.

(12) Barclay (1975), 223.

(13) Barclay (1975), 224.

(14) Tasker (1983), 195.

(15) Charles M. Laymon, ed. Interpreter’s One-Volume Commentary. (Nashville, Tennesse: Abingdon Press, 1982), 724.

(16) Matthew Henry. The Matthew Henry Study Bible. (Peabody, Massachusetts: Hendrickson Pub., 1997), 1743.

(17) Joe Biden. Josh HelfgottTikTok. 20 April 2021, 21 April 2021. <https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMexL37yM/>.

[florencetheflowerfairy]

Home

A Mimi x Miyako fic for the wonderful @transkoushirou!

Word Count: ~1,800

Peach, you happened to ask for the wlw pairing that I have the most headcanons for. I was so excited to write about them! Some of the ideas in this story are based on scenes that my sister has written with me over the years.

This was a confidence booster for me and I hope it makes you happy!

Home

Miyako stood still in the airport terminal, staring at the screen listing incoming flights. A crowd of people bustled around her. Most of the travelers ogled her for a minute before hurrying on their way. She couldn’t blame them. Miyako was holding a bouquet of no less than 100 pink roses.

Sora had tried to help her create a flower bouquet. But all of Sora’s designs were too…simple? Tasteful? They simply weren’t enough. Tachikawa Mimi deserved the absolute best. As she thought that, Miyako bit her lip. She carefully adjusted her grip so that she could reach up with one hand to flatten her hair.

The status of Flight 0206 changed to “Landed.” Miyako gasped and nearly dropped the flowers. She held them tight and fixed her gaze on the stairs instead. After 20 minutes, passengers started to trickle down. There were American tourists, Japanese businessmen on their cellphones, college students, tired families… But no sign of the most beautiful woman in the universe.

“Koushiro!” Miyako remembered talking to her old friend after Computer Club in middle school. “Mimi is visiting home from the United States!”

“Oh, right. Mimi. I think I heard that.” Koushiro didn’t look up from typing.

“It’s been so long!”

“Mm-hm.”

“I talk to her a lot online, but it’ll be much better talking to her in person!”

“Yes, she’s very good at talking. So are you. So it’s a good match.”

Miyako’s heart skipped a beat. “Do you mean that?”

“Yes? I mean you’re both energetic, so you match each other?” He sipped his oolong tea.

“Koushiro,” Miyako spoke seriously. “I’m in love with Mimi.”

Koushiro spat out his tea. “Oh! A romantic match! Uh...congratulations!”

She sighed. “Thanks. I’m glad to finally say it out loud. But it doesn’t always make me happy. It’s torture!”

Koushiro stroked his chin. “Yes, I suppose Mimi is way out of our league.”

Miyako was crestfallen at her club president’s words. Koushiro realized that he had said the wrong thing.

“I mean, she’s way out of MY league. But you’re the cool kind of nerd!”

“Thanks,” Miyako said sarcastically.

“Are you going to tell her?”

“I don’t know! I don’t want to ruin everything!”

“Right. Maybe you shouldn’t tell Mimi,” Koushiro said unhelpfully.

The door swung open. “Tell me what?”

The computer nerds gasped. There was Mimi, standing in the doorway. She wore a sequined jacket over a white dress. Her hair was curled and blonde. Miyako imagined that a spotlight was shining on her. Then Miyako panicked at sudden stage fright and ducked under the desk.

Mimi laughed. “I was summoned by the sound of my name! Were you two talking about me?”

“No,” Koushiro lied faithfully. “How—how much did you hear?”

Miyako squirmed under the desk. She pinched herself, hoping that she would wake up from this nightmare.

“I didn’t hear anything interesting or I wouldn’t be asking, you silly goose!” Mimi lilted. “You know I’m not smart enough to understand computer gibberish anyway.”

“Uhh…” Koushiro stuttered as Mimi walked forward.

Then Mimi knelt on the floor and smiled at the cowering girl. “Hi Miyako. Are you all right?” Miyako finally met Mimi’s eyes and nodded. “I’m sorry that I scared you by being so dazzling!” She offered Miyako her perfectly manicured hand.

Miyako accepted it and both girls rose to their feet. Miyako felt breathless. “Mimi, I…”

Mimi giggled and blushed. “I missed you too.”

“I…Mimi…youuuuu…”

Behind the girls, Koushiro covered his face in hands.

“MIMI WILL YOU GO OUT WITH ME?!” Miyako shouted. Mimi’s jaw dropped. Koushiro peeked through his fingers curiously.

“Oh Miyako…” Mimi squeezed the girl’s hand. “I would love to go out with you. But you know I’m only staying for two weeks, right? Then I’m going back home to New York.”

“I don’t care!” Miyako said.

Mimi grinned. “I like that attitude!”

“You should sit down. I can take a turn holding the flowers,” Hawkmon offered, the perfect gentleman as always.

“You’re too tiny to hold something this big,” Miyako argued. She sat down on one of the airport benches. It had been almost an hour since Mimi’s flight landed. The other travelers had already picked up their luggage. Where was Mimi?

She remembered her first kiss with Mimi. They had partnered for a mission in the Digital World. They were flying on Aquilamon through the clouds. Unlike clouds in the real world, these clouds felt solid. They were bouncy to the touch, like a rubber ball made of water. Miyako was itching to study the consistency of the strange matter.

Mimi was sitting behind her on the bird digimon, her arms around the girl’s waist, her chin resting on Miyako’s shoulder. Truthfully, it was hard for Miyako to focus on the mission with Mimi so close to her. Mimi had recently announced that she would be going to college in New York City. She threw a big “going away” party for all of her friends. Mimi had so many friends. She chatted easily with them all. But she was obviously the most emotional when she said good bye to Jyou, Sora, and Koushiro. Miyako didn’t know what to say when it was her turn…

Miyako suddenly felt Mimi’s fingers on her cheek. She blinked rapidly.

“Are you crying?” Mimi whispered.

Miyako sniffed. Mimi tilted her face towards her. Miyako realized that there were tears in Mimi’s eyes as well. Mimi smiled bashfully.

Miyako twisted herself around and grabbed Mimi’s arms. Mimi’s eyes widened. Miyako leaned closer and hesitated. “Is this okay?”

Mimi nodded. Miyako kissed her.

In all the world, there was no one as special as Mimi. So far from the real world, so high above the Digital World, Miyako had her all to herself. It wasn’t her first kiss, but nothing, nothing could ever compare to this.

Mimi suddenly squealed and pushed them both off of Aquilamon’s back. Miyako screamed and Aquilamon shouted. But they both landed pleasantly on a bouncy cloud, holding each other tight. Mimi giggled madly. Miyako grinned and ignored her digimon’s scolding voice above them. She rolled Mimi over and kissed her again.

Years later, Miyako got a phone call in the middle of the night. She groaned and reached lazily for her glasses. After she put them on, she read the name on her cell phone and perked up. She quickly answered. “Mimi? What’s up—?”

Mimi was crying.

“Mimi!”

“It’s over…”

“What? What’s over?” Miyako was scared. Why did Mimi have to live so far away?

“My television career!” She sobbed.

“Don’t say that. Your career can’t be over. You’re too young!”

“You don’t understand… I just quit my internship. Riggs said that he only hired me because I was pretty. I can’t work for that man!”

Miyako’s heart sunk. “That bastard. I’m so sorry.”

“What’s the point of staying here? People aren’t interested in my ideas. They don’t care about what I think. They only care what I look like!”

“That’s not true!”

“What do you know? You belong with smart people!” Mimi sobbed again.

“Mimi…” Miyako waited for Mimi to calm down. “Please, you can’t give up. The world is a lot bigger than Riggs. You have so many friends—you have so many people who like you—it’s not because of what you look like! People admire you because you’re confident! You can do anything! You flew halfway round the world for your dream. You inspired an army of digimon to follow you. Mimi, I would—we would all follow you anywhere!”

“But I’m not always confident…” Mimi sniffled. “I can’t be confident every day. I’m homesick all the time.”

“That’s okay!” Miyako insisted. “I get homesick just…thinking about you…But I know you’ll be okay. This isn’t the end of everything, Mimi. You’re having a rough time. It’ll get better. Think on the bright side. You’re passing all your classes. Your YouTube channel is starting to get more views! And—and most importantly, you have so many people who love you and will support you no matter what happens. Because you’re a star to all of us already!”

Mimi was quiet for a moment. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” Miyako cringed at how loud her voice was.

“Thank you for answering my phone call at whatever godforsaken time it is in Japan.”

“2:47 AM.”

Mimi sighed and Miyako giggled, which made Mimi giggle too.

“Good night, my love,” Mimi said.

Miyako and Hawkmon had been waiting in the airport for nearly two hours. She had set down the giant flower bouquet, and was rewatching one of Mimi’s YouTube videos. Mimi had invited Daisuke to cook ramen with her for the “season finale” of Mimi’s American Cooking Tour. It was the last video that Mimi had filmed before graduating college. Both Mimi and Daisuke were consummate entertainers. Miyako kept laughing at their jokes, even though she had seen this before.

The video ended with Ken entering Mimi’s apartment to pick up his boyfriend, and then the cooking show hosts forced him to eat the finished ramen. Ken obliged and noted that it tasted excellent. Daisuke kissed him in response. Ken shouted to turn off the camera. Mimi argued that it was the season finale and everyone loved seeing cute boys kiss! But she finally turned the camera away from the boys so that she and Palmon could do their signature sign-off. Palmon promised Mimi’s fans that they would return with more content from Japan. Mimi picked her up and spun around happily. Then the video ended.

“Customs must be giving Palmon a hard time,” Hawkmon said sadly. Miyako nodded. She suspected the same. It didn’t matter to government officials that Palmon had helped to save the world, or that thousands of more children around the world were getting digimon partners. Palmon was still dangerous in their eyes.

“What a lousy way to end their trip,” Miyako muttered. Then she shook her fist at the ceiling. “Poor Mimi! She deserves the whole world!”

“Did somebody say my name?”

Miyako gasped. She grabbed the rose bouquet off of the floor and scrambled to her feet.

Mimi seemed to float down the stairs. She wore an emerald dress, and her long pink hair flowed behind her. Even though she had just flown in a plane for fifteen hours, she had the poise and composure of a queen.

“Mimi! Your girlfriend bought you flowers!” Palmon exclaimed. Miyako blushed.

“Aah!” Mimi hurried to Miyako’s side and opened her arms for the flowers. “Thank you Miyako! You darling!” Mimi was so happy that Palmon glowed and became Togemon on the spot. The other travelers in the airport terminal gave the giant cactus a wide berth.

“Welcome back, Mimi,” Miyako said. “I love…making you happy!”

Mimi handed the bouquet to Togemon, who held it carefully in her boxing gloves. Then Mimi threw her arms around Miyako and hugged her fiercely.

“I’m home.”

[whyarethedolanssoattractive]

Paint You Wings ~ Ethan Dolan {Part Two}

Ethan’s POV

"Ethan, answer your damn phone!" Grayson demanded from the driver's seat. I rolled my eyes and pulled the device out of the cup holder.

I didn't recognize the number, but still answered it. "Hello?"

"Um, hey, is this Ethan?" It was a girl. What girl? I wasn't sure.

"Who is this?"

"It's Averly. This number was on a sticky-note on my door."

And just like that, I couldn't breathe. It was like my throat closed up and I was stuck underwater. Averly was freaking hot. But not just that. She was a creator. An artist. A good one, too, if her work was gonna have a shot at being in a fancy gallery.

I swallowed a breath. "Averly! Hey, yeah this is Ethan. What's up?" I laughed awkwardly and looked over at Grayson. He rolled his eyes and shook his head.

Averly sighed. "Well, not a lot really. You?"

I shook my head, even though she couldn't see me. "Just running some errands with Grayson. Say hi, Gray!" I put the phone on speaker.

"Dude, I don't know her." Grayson shook his head and laughed.

I rolled my eyes. "Averly, you're on speaker with me and my brother, Grayson. Grayson, this is Averly. She's our neighbor." I quickly introduced the two.

"Hi, Grayson! Nice to meet you!" Averly laughed.

"Yeah, you too Averly." Grayson smiled and shook his head.

"So, Averly, Grayson and I were talking, and we think it would be really cool to look at some of your art."

Grayson looked over at me and raised an eyebrow. I held one finger to my lips and winked at him. He rolled his eyes and looked back at the road.

Averly took a deep breath. "I don't know, none of my pieces are, like, earth-shatteringly remarkable."

"Oh, come on! You had a meeting with someone from Art Pour L'áme! Of course they're good!" I laughed. "By the way, how'd that go?"

"Not as well as planned, but nothing to cry over. And fine, I guess I can show you guys a few pieces."

I smiled. "Great! We'll be back to the apartments in, I don't know, an hour? Hour and a half maybe? Whatever, I'll text you when we're kinda close so you can have the art stuff ready."

"Okay. See you later, Ethan." Averly hung up.

Grayson looked over at me and raised an eyebrow. "Dude. You're not interested in her art." He shook his head slowly.

I stared at him for a minute. "Of course I am. Why else would I-"

"Because you want to bang her, Ethan!" Grayson said it like I was stupid.

My jaw dropped. He was freaking crazy if he thought that I wanted Averly. I mean, yeah, she was hot. And really cool. And a freaking artist. Good Lord, I wanted her. But not in a lustful sense!

"What? No, I met her, like, nine hours ago." I shook my head and laughed.

Grayson rolled his eyes. "You've screwed on less."

I groaned. "Shut up. That was one time. Let's just finish running errands so we can get back to the apartments and look at her art." I punched his shoulder and looked out the window. I was excited to see her art work, whether Grayson had lost all faith in me or not.

We stopped by the grocery store and got some stuff for an upcoming video, then went and filled Gray's car up with gas. Once we were getting close to the apartments, I texted Averly.

New iMessage to: Averly

Hey! We're like five minutes away... Gray and I are both reeeeeaaaally excited!

Her response didn't take long. I was glad that she wasn't one of those girls that feels the need to wait three minutes before she even opened the message.

iMessage from: Averly:

Okay! I'll have a few pieces ready to show you :)

Once we got back to the apartment, Gray and I put up the groceries, then walked to Averly's door and knocked. She was still wearing the purple dress from this morning, but no shoes and her hair was in a curly ponytail. She looked really pretty, despite already having a long day.

"Hey Ethan, and Guy Who Looks Suspiciously Like Ethan." She narrowed her eyes and kept looking back and forth between us.

Grayson and I laughed. "I forgot to tell you that we're twins."

She smiled, then led us inside. There were twelve easels set up in the room with different sizes of canvases. "Um, so this one is entitled 'The Governing'," she pointed at a small canvas with an American flag background and two chess kings - one black and one white.

"Whoa," Grayson got a closer look. "That's freaking cool."

Averly laughed, then showed us the next one. "This one is called 'The Jump', and it is actually a mixed-media piece. Partial charcoal, partial oil pastel."

This one was amazing. On the left, there was a lion preparing to jump on a hunter, who was standing on the right, guns ready. The lion was in pastel and the hunter in charcoal, and where they blurred together was a masterpiece.

"Averly, this is. . . I don't even know. I'm. . . Wow." I wandered around the room, looking at all of the pieces. They inflicted so many emotions and feelings. I was entranced.

"I'm glad you like them." She leaned against the wall and watched as Grayson and I gawked over her work.

"What was decided in the meeting?" I asked as I examined an abstract piece that made me think of two people on opposite sides of a canyon, or a crack in the earth.

Averly sighed. "I have a month to create another piece, and if Mr. Clifton feels like it's good enough, it's going in the gallery."

Grayson and I both stared at her. "That's so cool!" Grayson praised. Averly laughed and shook her head.

"Nothing to celebrate yet." She shrugged. Grayson and I scoffed.

We didn't know much at that exact moment, but we knew that you can literally celebrate for anything if you really want to. "Dude, yes it is. Y'know what? I'm gonna cook a fancy dinner for us all tonight to prove you wrong! If you have family or close friends in town, invite them, too!" Grayson decided in a split second.

Averly shook her head again. "It's just me. I don't really know anyone out here yet, and all of my family is in Dallas." She shrugged.

"Well, then it's official. Ethan and I are your new friends, and if you deem it acceptable, your family as well." Grayson bowed at her.

She looked at us like we were freaks, but smiled all the same. I walked over to her and slung my arm around her shoulders. "Yeah. And since we're all friends now, it doesn't matter how messy our apartment is for dinner, right?" I joked.

She shook her head and laughed. "Not at all."

We hung out at her place for a few hours, then Grayson went back to ours to start on dinner. Averly went into more detail on her art and the inspiration, then told me more about the meeting. Within an hour, I felt like I'd known her my whole life. She suddenly went from the hot neighbor with the cool paintings to the amazing girl that I wish I knew sooner. There was something compelling about her. Her attitude, maybe. Or the way she didn't seem to give a damn about anyone's expectations. She was absolutely amazing.

We were sitting on the couch, completely facing each other, but not saying anything. The air in the room was thick and I felt like one wrong move could set the entire place on fire.

I cleared my throat and sat forward slowly. "Um, will you excuse me? I'll be right back. Like, seriously, right back." I stood up and sprinted to the door, then slammed it open and went back to Gray's and my apartment.

"Bro, what are you-"

"I swear, I'm about to sound like Ted Freaking Mosby, but I think I might be falling for Averly."

Grayson dropped a glass on the floor, then rushed to get the broom. "Sweep this up, I have to watch the rolls." He shoved it at me, then knelt down by the oven. "Falling for her? Ethan, are you crazy? You met her at three AM!"

I rolled my eyes and started sweeping up the glass. "You think I don't know that, Grayson? I feel all weird and gooey. I don't. . . I don't know, I've never felt this way. Especially this quickly." I shook my head.

Grayson stood up and smacked the side of my head. "Give yourself some time before you talk to her about this, if you do, because - if you don't recall - Ted Mosby didn't end up with Robin Scherbatsky. You know why?"

I stared at him for a second. "Because they wanted different-"

"No, Ethan! Not because they wanted different things! Because Ted told Robin that he loved her on the first date! You're not even that far along!" He said it like it was the simplest thing in the world.

"Gray, they didn't even break up until a long time after that!"

Grayson threw a spoon at me. A freaking spoon.

"Shut up, you'll disturb the rolls."

I scoffed, then finished sweeping up the glass. "I'm gonna go back to her apartment so she doesn't think I completely ditched her."

"Tell her to come over here, everything's almost done." Grayson put his hands around his eyes and looked into the oven.

I walked back to Averly's apartment, then we went back to mine and Gray's. He had already set out the plates, so we all just sat down and started eating.

"This is seriously amazing." Averly pointed at her plate.

Grayson smiled so wide I thought his cheeks were gonna rip. He got out of his chair and down onto one knee, then grabbed Averly's hand. "Marry me."

We all laughed awkwardly, but kept eating and making random conversation. I could have listened to Averly talk about art for hours - hell, I wanted to - but around eight, we bade her farewell.

"I'll see you guys later." She smiled at us as she walked out of the apartment.

Grayson and I plopped down onto the couch. "I'm freaking stupid, dude." I groaned and threw my head back.

He laughed. "Yeah, I know."

[btextswriting]

CONNECTIONS {part 2 of HACKED}

Field Notes: Week 1

Inmate: Min Yoongi

He shows understanding and nature to continue behavior. It is unsettling to know that he continues to emphasize the government and their interest in his abilities. Further questioning has helped me realize that his wish to expose the confidential documents could be something of a Robin Hood persona. He seems to believe that by revealing this, that he is helping the citizens and does not care that he is breaking the law.

You took a large breath and looked over your daily notes. Each hour session with Yoongi had ended the same way, with him sitting back on the couch and closing his eyes. You would tell him about some part of his past and he would completely clam up. There was a part of you that thought about how undermining him might work, but now you were becoming discouraged. Usually within a week, there was noticeable difference. There was remorse, there was some form of desire to change, but for Yoongi there was nothing. You scrolled through your phone and came up on the name you hated. But you found yourself pressing the button.

A few rings passed and then suddenly a voice rang through the other line. Y/N? What is it that you need? You rolled your eyes.

Mother. You know most children call their parents when they just wish to speak, I don’t always need something from you. You responded rather coldly, but it didn’t throw your mother off.

You’re not like most children, just like I am not like most parents. So what do you need? She asked and you squeezed your phone in frustration.

I have a patient that is rather difficult. Would you mind if I look into your logs to see how you handle patients with Robin Hood-like personalities? You asked in your most medical and professional voice. You heard a silence from your mother, than a simple.

Fine. You know the passwords. And a click of the phone being hung up. You sighed. Your mother was both the bane of your existence and the person that truly shaped you. Logging into her account, you searched the necessary routes. However, something caught your eye.

That can’t be right. You opened the file and everything in your mind went completely blank. Reading document after document, you found yourself at a loss for words. Printing out the file and making a cup of tea, you tried to comprehend everything that was in front of you.

Monday rolled around faster than usual. The weekend seemed too short and your second week in the house was more comfortable. The policemen were friendlier, the procedures of metal detectors and scans were manageable, and your schedule of meeting with the guys was down pat. However, you were met off the bat with an obstacle.

Y/N? Everyone was used to calling you by your first name, and you recognized Jimin’s voice.

Yea? Where’s Yoongi? He’s first for sessions today. You said as you looked at your planner. But Jimin continued to stand there until you looked up. When you did, you saw a bruise on the side of his face. What the hell? What happened? It wasn’t one of the guards? You had become rather protective of the guys within the week, but each other policemen had beef with one of the inmates. Jimin shook his head.

I tried to wake up Yoongi. Jimin replied and scratched the back of his neck. You rolled your eyes and gave Jimin an apologetic gaze.

I’m sorry he did that. Why don’t you start the sessions today and Yoongi can go last? You asked Jimin and got a small smile out of the younger inmate. Jimin had been making amazing strides in the week. You were able to pinpoint his anger and triggered behaviors which helped him in avoiding those circumstances. Going through the sessions, you spent most of the day speaking to the guys calmly, however halfway through Tae’s hour, a slam on the door and ruckus could be heard on the opposite side of the door.

My session was skipped, assholes. Let me go! You heard Yoongi scream as the click of metal cuffs could be heard. You sprang up from your seat and walked to the door, opening to find three officers holding Yoongi down on the floor. Yoongi looked up at you from his forced position. WHAT THE HELL, Y/N?!

Hey, don’t speak to her that way! The policeman, Thomas, who usually guarded your office said before raising his hand at Yoongi.

STOP THAT! You shrieked. Thomas stopped his motion and both him and Yoongi looked at you. You glared at both of them. I will not condone that type of behavior. That is fear mongering and it does not work. Thomas, change posts for the day. You looked at Yoongi. Now for you, you beat Jimin for the sole purpose of not wanting to wake up. I don’t condone that behavior either, so you will wait like a child until the last session for today. Uncuff him and allow him to sit right here. You pointed to the chair that sat next to the door of your office. You know you’re a grown man, right? You turned on your heels before Yoongi could respond and closed the office door. Tae clapped his hands as you made your way back to your seat.

Well done, Y/N, well done. He mockingly knelt and praised you. Rolling your eyes, you pursed your lips.

I would not mock my psychiatrist, Taehyung. You tsked and Tae smiled widely.

So where were we? He asked and the two of you continued your session.

Soon it was the last session and Yoongi walked into the room, still rubbing his wrists, you gave him a look of concern.

They didn’t hurt you too much right? You asked and he scoffed at you.

Why the fuck would you care? He spat and you sat back in your seat.

Ah, so playing the tough guy. Fine. You diverted your gaze to the notepad and began writing senseless words. Yoongi sat on the couch and craned his neck.

You sure do have a lot to write about a simple question. He mentioned and you looked up. The plan was working.

You care way too much what people think about you. You stated and he rolled his eyes. His aloof expression would tell people otherwise, but you saw right through him. Can I tell you a story? You asked and Yoongi shrugged his shoulders in disinterest, but from the red color of his ears, you knew you had his attention.

My mother is an amazing psychiatrist, one of the best in the world. She has been published a million times, literally. And I, as her daughter, am always compared. My mother used me for studies like a lab rat. She studied my ability to comprehend emotion, understand the human mind, even blindfolded me and set me off in a maze like a legitimate lab animal. You began telling Yoongi your life’s story and watched him slowly turn towards you. I hated every second of my childhood because I could never live up to the expectations of others and I became engrossed in making others happy. My father wasn’t in the picture, so I leaned on my mother to nurture me, but she isn’t like that. Now you might scoff at me and say that I fed right into her plan because look at me. I’m a psychiatrist. I study the human mind and try to comprehend a way to make it mend with society. I’m doing exactly what she wanted of me. But I didn’t become a psychiatrist because she wanted me to, I became a psychiatrist because it was all I ever knew. And then you say a dawn of realization on Yoongi’s face. My mother works for the government and because of that, I have connections to certain databases. Your father is a top government official. Why don’t we talk about that?