#i even went an asked my uncle who knows a lot of politicians to help me put

[mymelodyheart]

Miles Between Us Chapter 1 ~Stories She Wrote~

PICTURE SOURCE

PART 2 OF  WONDERWALL SERIES

Hey guys, I'm back and thrilled to give you part 2 of WONDERWALL series, Miles Between Us. It is a continuation from my holiday ficlet, All I Want For Christmas Is You. If you haven't read the first part, I suggest you do if you wish to get an insight into Jamie and Claire’s history (Here is the link) Otherwise, this ficlet can also be read as a stand-alone.

I know All I Want For Christmas Is You ending was bittersweet, but it had to be done. Otherwise, there wouldn't have been a Part 2 in this series. I had to leave the story open to possibilities if it is to have a chance of growing. And besides, making this into a series allows me to take breaks from writing and refresh my brain in-between ficlets. So I hope this next part of the story will make up for leaving you hanging all these weeks.

Anyway, before you continue, I'd like to thank you for reading, commenting and giving feedback to my stories. They're all very appreciated even if I sometimes don't comment back. As a hobby writer, I always look forward to your response, and they spur me to continue writing. Without the readers, I wouldn't be here. So thank you for being part of my writing journey.

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

So now everything is said, without further ado, I wish you all happy reading. ❤️

 Previously ...

Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp and James Fraser met and fell in love during the Holiday Seasons. Unfortunately for their budding relationship, after two weeks of a whirlwind romance, Claire has to return to London to finish some work commitment that could take a year to fulfil. It doesn't help matters that Jamie's PTSD condition prevents him from visiting her as loud city noises can trigger panic attacks. They are both in love with each other and are willing to find out where their relationship will head to. But can they find a compromise to bridge the gap of hundreds of miles to give their love a chance?

    After sitting on her bed most of Saturday working on her laptop, Claire Beauchamp rolled her neck and stretched her back, her arms extending above her head. She flinched when her joints cracked. 

Over the past few days, her boss, John Grey, forwarded manuscripts and drafts from the author she was working with. She hadn't eaten anything all day, and her stomach was beginning to grumble, and her eyes blurry from reading.

She'd read so much in the past hours, she was practically cross-eyed, and the bridge of her nose hurt where her specs rested. Words upon words had sifted through her brain, but now the lines were beginning to blur together.

She glanced back down on her laptop and opened a file in her document folder, her eyes scanning through lines she knew by heart. She'd been going through her own work lately wondering if she had what it takes to be a writer. Someone who would give her an honest opinion ought to read it before contemplating getting herself a literary agent if she was to start a new chapter of her life and take that leap of faith in her dream career.

A sudden urgency took over, and she needed Annalise to read her work, like right now. Which reminded Claire, her friend was away with Willie, shopping and sight-seeing. He was staying over their place for the weekend for the first time since she and Annalise left Lallybroch. After declining their invitation to join them earlier, the loved-up couple left her to her work with the promise of dinner when they returned.

She was about to reach out for her cold coffee from the bedside table when Raiders of the Lost Ark's theme song blared from her phone. At the same time, a picture of her uncle Lamb appeared on the screen. He was wearing a high-crowned, wide-brimmed, weather-beaten fedora hat and had a lopsided grin plastered to his thickly stubbled face. Rugged, she thought, just like her favourite pair of distressed leather boots, and very Indiana Jones.

Smiling, she tapped the answer button and put the phone on speaker. "Uncle Lamb! Long time no speak!" 

"Sweetheart," he started in a deep familiar voice, "how are you?"

She frowned and pushed her laptop aside. Something was off. "Oh you know, same old ...just finishing work and ..." 

"On a Saturday?" he asked, cutting her off.

"Look who's talking."

He chuckled. "You're young. You should be out. There are so many things to do in London ...especially on a Saturday. "

Claire rolled her eyes but opted to change the subject instead. She wasn't ready to give her reason for working overtime nor share her future plans nor talk about the handsome Scot she met during her holidays. Not just yet, anyway. "So ...to what do I owe the pleasure of hearing your voice, dear uncle?"

"What?" he said gruffly, pretending to sound offended. "Can't I call my favourite girl in the world and check up on her?" 

She mentally sighed. Something must be up since her uncle never called. It was always she who usually phoned, and when he did call on a rare occasion, it was either because something had happened or he was in London. She dismissed the latter since she knew he was in Papua New Guinea. The next conclusion she landed on was his health but thought it absurd. Her uncle was strong as an ox, ate healthily, only smoked the occasional cigar and regularly went for doctor's check-up, a requirement in his job as an archaeologist travelling to remote places.

Unless. "You sound suspiciously chipper. Let me guess ...you met someone. There's a woman in your life." 

He coughed like he was choking on a drink. "No! Why would you say that?" 

Alright, he sounded repulsed by the idea enough. Or was that denial? "I don't know. You seem so ...how shall I say it ...unlike yourself. You normally skip the niceties and get to the point." 

He lets out an impatient breath. "Claire, darling, am I really that awful?"

"No," she replied, ignoring the ache in her throat. She missed their time together but tried not to make it apparent in her tone. He was a busy man, and the last thing she wanted was her uncle worrying. "You don't seem like you're rushing off to anywhere. It's rare you sound this relax."

"It's way past my bedtime already," he sighed. "And besides, work is on stand-by at the moment until we get the license to start digging on site. People here are so damn laid back, and nobody seems to be in a hurry to process the paperwork. I'm not about to hand out cash to speed things along even if bribery is rampant here."

"I see. So you're in Port Moresby then?"

"Yes. As soon as we have the license sorted out, we'll be flying to Lae first thing tomorrow. Hopefully, anyway." He cleared his throat. "Speaking of paperwork, I received an email from my lawyer. Your trust fund has matured, dear. I'll send you the details where to go to and who to contact, and maybe you can start planning your life. Perhaps take a sabbatical and travel with me if you wish."

Ah yes, the trust fund. 

After her parents died, everything they had owned was put into her trust fund by her uncle to secure her future. She'd already received a small lump sum when she turned eighteen, and the money had afforded her, though small and cramped, a decent rental two-bedroom apartment in London with high windows, which was premium in this expensive city. And Annalise, her best friend and roommate made enough money to help pay the ridiculous expensive utility bills. Her own wage just about covered the other expenses with almost nought left for savings, but she hadn't worried knowing there was money in place in her name. She was counting on it to support herself when she pursued her dreams of writing.

"About that, I think I'll let that sit in the bank for a while. It's not like I need the money right now, nor do I have the time to spend it."

"As you wish," her uncle replied. "And another thing I need to discuss with you ...South Lodge ..."

"What about South Lodge?" South Lodge should have been her family home if her parents hadn't died, and she knew it was a highly coveted property because of its historical significance. It was never put into the market for sale since her uncle thought it wasn't his place to decide. It was put on a twenty-year lease to a high profile politician, its payments going towards her trust fund.

"The lease is up, and the occupants will be moving out soon. Unfortunately for you, that information made it to the local news and you were mentioned as the legatee. So don't be surprised if you're bombarded with offers now that your name is out. I'm willing to bet, property investors and developers will be itching to get their hands on it."

Claire took off her specs and pinched the bridge of her nose. God, she hated adulting, paperwork and dealings with lawyers. Maybe she should just sell South Lodge and be done with it, so she could concentrate on her future plans. What do I need a five-bedroom house with one acre of garden in Oxford for? "I'll think about it, uncle. I just have a lot of things going on at the moment. I'm quite sure those things can wait."

"Of course dear."

"Thank you for letting me know." She thought of Jamie, and the Highlands and how much life was a lot simpler there. She really needed to double her effort to tie up loose ends in London and have a heart to heart talk with Annalise. Is her relationship with Willie serious? If not, her friend would have to eventually find a new roommate. After quickly glancing at her bedside clock, she realised they would be here soon and hopefully with a takeaway. Annalise did mention something about sorting dinner out tonight.

"And Claire?"

"Yes?"

"Your upbringing hasn't been the most ideal. Enjoy the money and treat yourself. Don't spend your life doing things that don't bring you joy."

She smiled. Her uncle must have had a rude awakening of some sort to sound so philosophical. Or probably, he did meet someone special. Either way, she wasn't going to push for any answers for now. She really needed to get out of bed, do a few stretches and have a shower before Annalise, and Willie arrived. "I'll try," she finally said.

"Good. I'll let you get back to whatever you're doing."

"Sadly, yes." She shut her laptop and got out of bed. "Take care of yourself, alright? And I'll phone you sometime next week after I've figured out our time differences." 

"Absolutely, sweetheart. Talk soon." 

"Love you, uncle Lamb." 

"Love you, too." 

She terminated the call with a swipe on her screen and rubbed her eyes. She'd been working for seven hours straight, and her eyeballs felt like they're made of sandpaper. Glancing at the corner table, she smiled when she saw Jamie's gifts. Willie had brought them with him when he arrived last night from Inverness. She knew Jamie was making up for his absence, but it couldn't be helped when there's the danger of his PTSD condition worsening in the city. To her delight and surprise, he'd sent her a leather-bound journal, a framed selfie photo of them together, driftwood bookends he made and a box of her favourite Lindt chocolate.

With a contented sigh, she made a mental note to call Jamie after dinner. And to ask her boss first thing Monday morning if she could take her work to Scotland the following weekend to surprise her boyfriend. After all, she was just taking her uncle's advice, and after the work, she'd put in the last couple of weeks, and the extra hours she planned to do the next few days, she deserved a little joy in her life.

..........

Claire leaned forward, and nervously examined her best friend's face. Annalise was hunched down, scrolling her laptop, tongue darting out as she read the paragraphs on the screen. 

What's that look for? Doesn't she like it? She couldn't tell. It was the first time she's showing her work to anyone, one of the stories she had written during her spare time before embarking a career as an editorial assistant for Dreamcatcher Publishing Company. She needed to hear her friend's opinion to know if she even had a small chance of becoming a writer.

Annalise took her sweet time, and Claire wasn't sure if her inscrutable expression was a deliberate act to prolong the suspense, or if she genuinely had no reaction to what she's reading. If it was the latter, Claire would definitely kiss her dream of being a writer goodbye. If it's the former, she's going to strangle her friend for making her suffer. 

She heard the door to the apartment open and close, followed by the sound of keys jangling and heavy footfalls, announcing the arrival of Willie. He'd stopped by to order some food at a local Indian takeaway while Annalise headed straight home to prepare the table for dinner. Instead of calling out to him, she held her breath for Annalise's response. 

Just when Claire was starting to accept her hope of being a writer would never amount to anything other than a pipe dream, she saw the reaction she impatiently waited for. Annalise's mouth formed a comical O, followed by her eyes' widening and random shallow sighs. 

Yessssssss! 

This was massive. Despite Annalise having seen works from established authors Claire had edited for, she'd never witnessed her friend looked this excited. Annalise simply couldn't hide her gobsmacked expression, even if she tried.

"Oh, dear Lord," she whispered, her gaze flicking to Claire and then back to the screen. "Why didn't you tell me you had this? I knew you wanted to be a writer, but this ..."

"So?" 

Annalise took a massive deep breath, her fingers almost shaking. "Oh my God, Claire." 

"Oh my God, wot? Oh my God good or oh my God, bad?" Claire asked, even though she already knew deep in her bones, what the answer was. But she desperately needed to hear the words.

"This is bloody good," she said, as she went back to a previous page, and reread it all over again. After a couple of minutes more, a slow smile started to spread across her face, as she stole a few cheeky glances over at Claire.

Claire knew she could rely on her friend to tell her the truth. If her work had been bad, friend or not, Annalise would have been forthright and told her the hard facts. Nevertheless, she tamped down her own growing excitement. "The question is though ...is it good enough for the mass?" 

Without hesitation, Annalise nodded vigorously, her blue eyes big as saucers. "Oh, Claire, are you kidding me? You really have no idea, have you? Of course, it is! I need to read the rest. Please tell me it's finished." 

Claire relaxed for the first time and slumped back against the headboard of her bed, relief soothing her wild heartbeat. "It's finished."

Annalise let out a whoop as she gripped the laptop tightly. "Oh my God! Give me everything ...I won't be able to sleep tonight if I don't read at least one more chapter of this story." 

"I've got ten more finished materials."

"Oh my God, oh my God! You're killing me. I want it all."

Willie poked his head by the frame of the doorway to her bedroom and eyed them suspiciously. She wasn't sure what he expected to find, but his eyes narrowed when he saw Annalise's flushed face. 

"What are ye both up to?" he asked, frowning. "Ye sound like ye're looking at porn on the internet." 

Annalise grinned and motioned him over. "Sort of." 

Willie hesitantly entered the room. "Sorry?"

"In actual fact, much better than porn ..." Annalise announced, smirking at Claire.

"Annalise!" Claire wheezed when it dawned on her, her friend must have been reading the sex scene part.

Annalise reached out and reassuringly squeezed Claire's hand whilst looking at Willie. "Take a look at this. Claire wrote it."

Annalise handed the laptop to Willie, and both of them earnestly watched his face to gauge his reaction. As he sat down on the edge of the bed and read, Claire knew he would be the real test. Willie being a bloke, she didn't expect him to have the same reaction as Annalise, but she hoped he would appreciate the storyline and plot. Claire already understood, if her story was going to be good enough to be published, its success would be based on women's purchasing power. If he liked her style of writing even a smidgen, then she would be laughing. 

Claire held her breath in anxious anticipation, and approximately a minute and a half later, she got her response. 

His eyes bulged out, and then the tips of his ears glowed with red. In all sort of ways, he was so similar to Jamie but yet so different. But there's no mistaking how vibrantly their ears always lit up when they're embarrassed. Or moved. 

"Kind of explicit," he commented hoarsely, before tucking a tongue into his cheek as if trying to find the right words to say. "But it is an intriguing story with great flow and interesting characters. It's no' the genre I would typically read, but the first few paragraphs of what I've seen so far are riveting. It makes me want to read more."

Annalise, enthusiastically nodded in agreement and waved a hand in the air. "There it is." 

"Ye have a gift, Claire," Willie added, eyes still fixed on the screen and working overtime as his focus became more intense. "The dose of mystery ye've woven into the lines is remarkable and intelligent."

She felt herself beaming in vindication. "Thank you." 

He briefly glanced up at her. "Now that I remember, Jamie did vaguely mention ye wanted to be a writer."

"That's the plan," she beamed.

"Good. Because if ye can produce something like this, then yer talent is wasted on editing other people's work."

"She's got ten more finished stories," Annalise piped in.

Willie arched an eyebrow at Claire and continued reading, and when he finished, he shook his head and let out a low whistle. "Is Jamie the inspiration for this story?"

Her face heated. "I ...ah ...wrote that years ago. And ...um, I've revised and edited it a million times in the past. I wanted Annalise to read it first and find out if it's good enough to be published."

Annalise grinned at Willie, still looking a little flush like she was having a physical reaction to the few lines she'd read earlier. "So what do you think?"

Willie didn't miss Annalise's excited reaction to the story. "It's verra good but I didnae realised graphic scenes affected ye so much. Ye're beet red!" 

"Only when it's very well written," Annalise smirked, taking the laptop from his hands and moving towards him to sit on his lap. 

Willie pulled Annalise closer and kissed her, and Claire sighed. It's both beautiful and terrible being in the presence of people, so in love. While she's ecstatic to see her best friend smitten and happy, it made her sad that Jamie couldn't be here with her. She missed him terribly, and it's only been a fortnight since she had last seen him.

After a few seconds of watching them unashamedly snogged in front of her, Claire clapped her hands, and they both immediately pulled away. "Right, that's enough you two. So, where's the dinner I was promised?"

Suddenly looking self-conscious, Willie promptly lifted Annalise from his lap, plonked her down onto the bed and jumped up, and Claire couldn't help but grin at him.

"Right on it," he muttered, before disappearing from her bedroom.

Annalise laughed and playfully shoved her shoulder. "Passion killer."

Claire ignored the jest. "So you really think I should publish my story?"

Her friend nodded excitedly. "Absolutely! You should have let me read it sooner. From what I've seen so far, you have good, solid material, and I'm convinced, when I read the rest, it will not disappoint." She stood up and smiled. "Come on, in as much as I'm all fired up after reading your story, I'm famished." She got up and left the room.

Instead of moving from her position, Claire stared at her work for a few seconds and just breathed. Although Willie and Annalise were sincere with their praises, she couldn't help but still feel nervous. This next step in her life could either turn out to be huge, or it could get her mocked out of a dream career she loved. 

Pushing aside her doubts and thinking of Jamie, she quickly compressed a copy of her story's file and sent it to him via email to read, hoping he would like her written work too. Who knew, maybe, after reading it, he would be as fired up as Willie and Annalise. 

After hearing the whoosh of the email sent, Claire launched herself off the bed to join her friends, looking forward to Jamie's reaction later and daydreaming of a future in Scotland with her love.

[guiltysecretpasttime]

Blended - 3

Note: Why hello - thanks for staying tuned and being here to check this out. Leave a note what you think. :)

Title: Blended

Previous installment here and chapter one here. 

Legend of Korra, Lin/Tenzin, Modern AU, no bending

Blurb: A modern AU with no bending where Lin finds herself with three kids, where Tenzin is Mr Big Shot CEO, where Mako is an overprotective son, where Ikki endears herself to Lin, where Bumi is the cool meddling godfather/uncle and where Pema is out of the picture.

Multi-part, WIP

---

Another teenaged boy joined the first boy and Lin.

Lin ruffled the other boy’s hair in greeting.

Probably noticing Tenzin’s thunderous expression, Jinora turned around.

The first boy gave a half-smile then saluted her. The young girl rolled her eyes as she smiled back and saluted.

Ikki, to his surprise, gave an enthusiastic wave that the boy returned. “Is Mako joining us?”

Mako. Tenzin filed the name away for future review.

Ikki knew him? Just how close are they…

Jinora shrugged. “Mom won’t let him.”

“Oh?” Tenzin’s tone of practiced disinterest came into play.

Jinora rolled her eyes. “He could be quite overprotective.”

Tenzin frowned as both girls turned their attention back to their meal.

How dare that slip of a boy even presume that he was going to do something unsavory.

Lin slipped back into the booth, carrying a root beer float with two straws. “Mako sends his regards.” She nudged the drink towards the two girls. “Anyway, so thought of any questions, sir?”

Sir?

Tenzin cleared his throat as Lin waited with an amused smirk. “You can call me Tenzin, not… sir.”

Not awkward, not awkward at all.

“Okay then, Tenzin.” The emphasis on his name was somewhat derisive.

“Hmmm, yes – I think Ikki would be in good hands.” He paused, thinking of questions to ask.

How is Mr Lin taking this? Where is he? Is he in the picture? Why isn’t he mentioned? Is he okay with having a sleepover at their house? Did he mind that there was a young pup hovering around his woman and child? Or, heaven forbid, is Mr Lin that boy?

He heard that plastic surgery does wonders, and some ethnicities do tend to age better than others.

“I take it you don’t have any questions?” Lin finished her drink by now. “Well, then. For tomorrow, we will be heading out anyway so I can bring Ikki to your house, or we can meet at the mall.”

There was a challenge there. After all, it was a conglomerate in the mall industry that was the root of the demise of their long-term relationship.

“Sure, let’s go to the mall.” And they agreed on a time and place to meet the next day.

Lin waved the waiter over and requested to have the leftover food of the girls to be packed home (“You’ll both remember your unfinished waffles later tonight when you’re finishing your project so best to take it home.”).

Tenzin motioned for the check.

“Already taken care of.” Lin nodded.

“You didn’t have to.” Tenzin mumbled weakly, putting his wallet back in his pocket.

He was met with a shrug. “Consider it as a belated welcome gift to this city.” Lin stood up once the leftover food was brought over by the waiter, and they all prepared to head out.

Tenzin was well-aware of the two boys from the other table following them.

“Mako, Bolin – please help Jinora and Ikki with their things while I get the car ready.” Lin walked over to where she was parked to turn on the air conditioning.

For his part, Tenzin led the children to his car, surreptitiously watching their interaction.

Ikki gave one of them (Bolin, was it?) a high five while Jinora was quickly exchanging words with Mako.

As he was pulling out the key from his pocket, a hand shot in front of him.

“I’m Mako.”

He shook the hand without hesitation. “Tenzin.” He clicked his key to unlock the car and opened the trunk, where the overnight bag of Ikki is as well as the other art supplies of both girls.

The other boy came forward now, extending his own hand. “Bolin here.” He grinned widely, a touch friendlier than Mako.

Tenzin grasped it and introduced himself as well. He handed Bolin one of the heavier bags while Ikki and Jinora went forward to get their lighter ones. Mako, meanwhile, hung back and was sizing him up from the looks of it.

Only, he wasn’t sizing him up apparently.

Mako moved silently to pick up the bulkiest of the materials so that Jinora did not have to carry it.

The young girl beamed up at him, saying. “That’s why you’re my favorite brother.”

Brother?

“Hey!” Bolin grumbled from the other side as he swung on his back two duffel bags. “What about me?”

Correction: brothers?

“You’re my favorite brother-friend.” Ikki punched his arm.

Bolin laughed boisterously while they went off to Lin’s car.

Ikki turned to face her father quickly who was bringing up the rear. “Don’t tell Meelo.”

Tenzin raised his hands in surrender. “Of course not.”

“Well, technically, I’m not your brother so…” Bolin wringed his hands worriedly. Thinking that maybe Tenzin would say something about it.

So… brothers.

Tenzin had a lot of questions while Lin and her children loaded the things of Jinora and Ikki into their trunk. The boys were a lot older than Jinora. Much, much older… Something that did not quite sit well with him.

Before he knew it, Tenzin was left at the parking lot as they waved good-bye at him as the car sped off.

 ---

Pema settled herself at a quiet corner in the coffee shop. She placed down her bag beside her and let the waiter place the tea tray on the table.

She checked the time on her tablet.

It was time for her weekly call with her daughter.

Ever since the divorce, she and Tenzin tried to figure out a way to co-parent despite being a couple of countries apart. One of the things they agreed on is that they were not going to let their children bounce from one household to another a lot during the school year. Another is that Pema would continue to consistently remain in contact with the kids through a weekly video call. This also linked to their eventual agreement that Ikki was to have her own (child-locked and parental monitored) phone.

It was something that Pema looked forward to every week.

For all the differences that she and her ex-husband had and the reasons that they went into the marriage, Pema does not regret her children with him.

“Hi Mommy!”

“Hi Sweetie!” Pema found herself smiling at Ikki’s toothy grin. “How are you doing?”

Ikki, as she expected, launched into this enthusiastic story about what she had been up to since the last time they chatted. When she was in the middle of gesturing and talking about her big sister-little sister project, other voices wafted into the call - voices that Pema was unfamiliar with.

Pema leaned closer to peer into the screen, brows furrowing, only noticing that the background of Ikki’s call was different.

In the background, someone (a male someone) let out a loud whoop.

Ikki paused to take a deep breath and Pema interjected. “Dear, where are you right now?”

“Oh-oh-oh! That’s what I was going to tell you next, Mommy!” Ikki waved her hands excitedly in front of her. “I’m on a sleepover with Jinora! At Jinora’s house!”

Pema was surprised but did not let it show. She did not want to dampen Ikki’s delight. She would not be that mother (she would not be her mother). And, well, at the end of the day, she did trust Tenzin’s parenting decisions. “That’s great. How is it so far?”

“It’s fun! She has two brothers. Two brothers, Mommy! And not two Meelo’s too. They’re very nice. Her mommy is really nice also – not like Korra’s uncle. Korra’s uncle is grumpy at home but nice outside. Jinora’s mommy is nice both outside and at home.”

Pema had to bite back a smile at Ikki’s commentary. Having crossed paths with Unalaq during her marriage with Tenzin, she did not particularly enjoy spending time with the politician. Everything was mostly for show and behind closed doors, to family, the man could be quite cold and standoffish.

There was raucous laughter from Ikki’s side and Ikki looked to the side, to someone or something off-camera.

“That’s Bolin, Mommy. Jinora’s older brother.” The view shook a bit as Ikki was likely moving her phone around to show her mother the view of the room. “And that’s her brother, Mako.”

Pema could see that they were probably in some sort of study room. Behind Ikki, there were two computers set-up, each with a teenaged boy sitting in front of it wearing a headset.

“And here’s Jinora.”

The view moved again and a familiar girl who she has talked to in previous calls waved at her. Jinora was beside Ikki and was in the process of gluing something to a small card.

Ikki placed her phone steady again and went into detail about the project they were working on, and Pema could see the door at her side opening.

“Bolin, Mako – no yelling, you know Ikki will be on a call right now.” The woman who entered the room hissed audibly at the teenagers.

“Sorry, Mom -.” The stocky boy started to apologize then trailed off, inaudible to Pema’s ears.

What struck Pema most, however, was not the amount of glitter that Ikki and Jinora were putting on their projects, or the two boys punching each other’s arm when they probably get a point in their computer game. No, it was the woman who stood watching their game, hands at her waist.

It was a woman that she has never met but was quite familiar with.

Pema was left pondering how her daughter landed at a sleepover at Lin Beifong’s house.

 ---

“OMG – is that – is that a background image of the Fire Ferrets’ place?  Where did you download that?! Can you send it to me? Pleaaaase! Didn’t know you’re a fan of the Fire Ferrets!!”

Ikki read and reread the message of her cousin Korra at their chat.

It did not make sense to her.

What background was she talking about?

She scrolled up to the last picture she sent which was of her and Jinora holding up their project with their final touches completed.

Jinora nudged her, noticing her preoccupation. “You, okay?”

Ikki wrinkled her nose, showing her phone screen to Jinora. “What’s a Fire Ferret?”

“My ears are tingliiiing - did someone say Fire Ferret?” Bolin jumped in between them, his hand cupping his ear. “You don’t know who the Fire Ferrets are?” At Ikki’s slow head shake, he clicked his tongue and placed his arms around the shoulders of the girls. “I can’t believe Jinora didn’t tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

Jinora rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “I don’t think Ikki would have been interested.”

“Don’t you put down her possible interest in esports!” Bolin flicked his sister’s nose with affection. “The Fire Ferrets is today’s up-and-rising, the ones-to-watch-out, most promising esports team!” He followed up with a faux-whisper, “At least that’s what eSports Unlimited.com says in their latest ranking article. Impressive huh?”

Ikki just blinked up at him.

Bolin did not let that deter him. “And, what’s more – you’re looking at one of them now!”

“Cut it out, Bo.” Mako sighed from his position at his desk, having taken off his headset. “I hardly think Tenzin would like Ikki to be exposed to the wonderful world of esports at her age.”

“And, you’ll be right at that point, kid.” All four of them faced the door, where Lin had peeked her head. “Tenzin would not be keen on prolonged screen time and neither would he appreciate if we bring his daughter back with darkened eyebags. Bedtime now, kids!”

The pronouncement brought a cacophony of complains.

“But, Mooom -.”

“Please Ms Lin – I-.”

“Mom, we’re too old to have a bedtime.”

“Kids – please, we’re going to need to wake up early.”

“We can still wake up early – our body clock’s fantastic.”

“No.”

“Yeah, we’ll even prepare breakfast for everyone.” A punch. “Ow! What was that for?”

A snort. “Speak for yourself.”

“I’m holding you all to that then. I’ll head on – good night, kids!”

A door closes and another punch. “What was that for, now?”

 ---

Little did they know, while Lin was having a smidge of trouble getting the kids to get to bed, across town, a certain businessman was having trouble sleeping.

After dinner and after tucking Meelo to bed (with two bedtime stories read), Tenzin found himself exhausted from the week (and day) he has had. And so, he had gone off to prepare for bed but was unable to find a comfortable position to sleep.

Who was he kidding – he had a lot of thoughts running through his mind.

Feeling restless still, Tenzin got back up from bed and went to pull out his laptop.

He scrolled through various folders until he found what he was looking for. His fingers tapped swiftly on the keyboard, the password a muscle memory. However, his cursor hovered over the ok button, unable to belie his hesitation and uncertainty.

Tenzin paused and asked himself if he really wanted to do this.

Eventually, he pushed through and out popped the window showing files upon files. Scanned documents, audio files, slide shows, videos, saved emails and photos.

One of the reasons why he managed to bring back the White Lotus Corporation to life is his tenacity, his dogged determination to see things through. Tonight, it is this same tenacity that brought him to go through his past as he started to go through old photos with one Lin Beifong. He went through the photos and emails – trying to see, trying to look for a clue at what point did Lin start showing or possibly start getting involved with the boys’ father, at what point in their relationship did he not become enough.

Tenzin would later come to wonder if he should have just let sleeping dogs lie.

---

Note: Dundundun. Misunderstandings upon misunderstandings – my favorite genre. Haha! Hope all is good with you reading from the other side of the screen. Just a note here – Pema won’t be a nasty bitch here, and no hating gonna happen. Trying to make this as light as possible, so no overly angsty~ plot lines. Crossing my fingers this experimental story works out fine haha.

Share your thoughts, theories, feelings, anything about this story with me. 😊 I am trying to get back to writing so this might not be up to my usual length or content. Happy to hear from you though.

[fallen-gravity]

awaken the stars, ‘cause they’re all around you

Stanford Pines never really believed in soulmates.

He can't imagine the idea that there's one person out there for him in the multiverse who would stop at nothing to love him for who he is, despite everything he is and everything he's done. He can't imagine that someone out there is meant for him, someone who will stand by his side until the end of time.

Or maybe he'd just been looking at it from the wrong angle.

Notes: 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, @stariousfalls!!!!! I can't believe we've been friends for upwards of five years now?? You've been a huge inspiration of mine from my first day in the gravity falls fandom back in late 2014, and now you're one of my closest friends. I've been spending the last week and a half working on this behind your back, because I wanted to surprise you with a gift I thought you'd love!!

7.5k words of fluff was....not my original plan, but fluff brain wanted to go feral for you, I guess.

Huge, huge shoutout to @ariasofelegance  for helping me keep my mouth shut about this, I absolutely would've internally combusted without your help & support

AO3

Ford never saw the appeal of romantic relationships.

One night when he and Stan were kids, they snuck downstairs in the middle of the night after their parents were asleep to dig through Pa’s “Secret stash” of movies he thought he was good at keeping a secret. They’d thought for sure they’d be coming across bootleg cuts of action movies that were still playing in theaters, or documentaries about how all of the politicians in power were secretly aliens. 

What they actually found was much more…sensual. They were both horrified, to say the least, but each time Ford had to turn away to prevent himself from gagging, he’d hear Stan beside him struggling not to laugh. 

For years, Ford was convinced coming across those tapes before he was old enough to fully comprehend what was happening in them is what had turned him off to relationships altogether. It certainly didn’t help that he was never able to experience romantic relationships firsthand, as every time he tried asking someone out in high school he’d just be laughed at or called a freak.

Though college was another story entirely, his feelings towards romantic relationships never seemed to change. He went out with a girl from his dungeons, dungeons, and more dungeons club for a few weeks, a guy from his advanced physics class for almost two months, and even tried going out with Fiddleford for upwards of nine months, but he never felt that deeper connection with any of them, no matter how much he wanted to feel that connection. 

It’d be forty more years before he learned the term aromantic, but when he was still in college he would brush off his parents’ questions about his relationship status by telling them he was too busy working on his thesis, which technically wasn’t all that far from the truth anyway.

Still, the faint sense of yearning never seemed to leave him be. Whenever he found gaps in his schedule, he would spend hours in his university library reading up on the science of relationships and their place in society. Though he no longer remembers most of the papers he read, one scientific study that’s always stuck with him was a dissertation written entirely on the concept of soulmates.

Everyone has a soulmate, the paper claimed. Though it may be decades until you properly meet, your path always leads to the moment that you and your soulmate are finally united. Once finally together, not a single force on earth can tear you apart. Even if you are apart physically, the stars will always align to bring you together. Weirdest of all, the paper mentioned soulmarks, which were described as “the phenomenon that a person’s very soul is marked with a piece that belongs to their soulmate, which may appear as a physical anomaly on a person’s body, such as an oddly-shaped birthmark”. 

Ford had thought for sure that somebody must’ve moved a romance novel into the sociology section of the library as a joke. The only sort of anomaly he had going for him was his polydactyly, and thinking too much about how that could connect him to a single person who was destined to love him gave him a headache. 

Nowadays, though, Ford tries not to give it much thought. He’s perfectly happy right where he is, watching the sunrise from the deck of the Stan O’ War II through the steam visibly rising from his coffee mug. 

He sighs contently. 

“Mornin’” Stan’s voice sounds beside him, gruff with sleep. When Ford turns to look at him, he’s rubbing at his eyes with one hand while he holds a steaming cup of coffee in his other. He’s already donning one of the sweaters Mabel mailed to him, a deep blue with a tropical island and a treasure chest stitched across the chest.

Ford smirks. “You’re up early” 

Stan cocks an eyebrow as he sips from his coffee. “A’course I am. I always get up early when we’re docking to see the kids”

Ford blinks, the teasing smirk on his face melting into a gentle smile. “That’s today?” 

“Haven’t you checked the calendar lately?” Stan tosses a second handmade sweater at Ford. This one’s the same shade of maroon as his journal covers, and pictures an angry cycloptopus squirting ink towards the bottom left corner of the sweater. “The kids are on spring break. They talked to their parents about letting us have ‘em all week” 

Ford is quick to pull the warm sweater over his head. “All week?” 

He can’t help sounding like a broken record, but it’s been months since the last time he saw the kids face to face. Sure, they talk over video at least once a week, but nothing beats seeing their smiling faces and having them nearly tackle him to the ground in a hug in-person. 

“Heh, you miss em too, Sixer?” 

As little as two years ago, Ford would’ve flinched at the nickname. But Bill is gone for good, and Ford knows that Bill is gone for good, and Stan made a promise to do anything in his power to help him reclaim the nickname. He brings his mug close to his face without taking a sip, allowing himself to take in the warmth in his hands and the steam in his face.

“Not as much as you, clearly” Ford smirks, and Stan crosses his arms over his chest.

“You bet I missed them more than you. I’d been taking care of them all summer before you showed up and fell in love with them in half that time”

Ford smirks as he finishes up his coffee and heads into the navigation room to set their course. “By that logic, wouldn’t that mean that I miss them more, since I had less time with them?”

“Hey!” Stan groans as he follows him into the room. “It does not. It means that you don’t know them like I know them, genius. Everyone knows that it’s all about how much time you’ve spent with a person that determines how close you are with them” 

Ford laughs as he enters the coordinates they need to get to the seaport they were meeting the young twins at. From the looks of it, it’d be three hours before they arrived. 

“Mm, and who put that study together? Was it you?” 

Stan doesn’t reply with words, just a noise that sounds halfway between disgruntled and baffled. It makes Ford laugh even harder, and he wipes at his eyes with a wrist. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Stan’s overdramatic pout melt away until he’s laughing too. 

The sight of it makes the smile on Ford’s face widen. It’d been decades since the two of them were able to just be like this. It’d been so long since the last time Ford heard Stan’s genuine laugh that he’d gone and forgotten what it sounded like altogether. When he was still traveling the multiverse, he searched far and wide for a shred of hope, something to keep his anxieties and nightmares from catching up to him.

What a fool he’d been to ignore his childhood memories of home. 

The trip is a quiet but familiar one. Ford can’t talk much when he’s steering because he needs to be on constant lookout, but Stan remains in the room to talk at him and keep him company anyway. The sun is well over the horizon by the time they reach the seaport, and call it instincts, intuition, or something else entirely, because Ford spots the kids sitting on a bench in the near distance the moment he and Stan step foot onto the dock. 

They’re squished closely together, watching a video on Mabel’s phone. Whether they’re aware of it or not, they’re swaying their legs back and forth underneath the bench in perfect unison. On the ground beside them are their backpacks, overstuffed with so many things that both of them are popping open. 

Most importantly, neither of them have noticed that Ford and Stan are approaching them. 

Ford exchanges an amused glance with Stan, and clears his throat to catch their attention. 

The phone nearly stumbles out of their hands in shock when they look up and meet their eyes.

“Grunkle Stan!” Mabel squeals, standing to sprint past Ford to knock Stan off of his feet. Ford chuckles at the sight, but not quickly enough to hear Dipper’s “Great Uncle Ford!”, and before he knows it he’s hitting the floor too. The young twins are laughing messes, and stumble over each other as they try to stand to their feet and help their Grunkles up. 

Mabel spits out the hair that stuck to her mouth, and pulls a hair tie seemingly out of thin air to tie her hair up into a ponytail. It’s only now that Ford realizes that she and Dipper are also both wearing sweaters, and if Ford had to guess, it looks like Mabel made both of these sweaters as well. Mabel’s is a galaxy print with actual twinkling stars, and Ford makes a mental note to ask her later what she did to make it glow like that. Dipper’s is also space themed, though his pictures the big dipper splotched across a black night sky with a bright orange meteor shooting through the center.

“You have to tell us about everything you’ve encountered”, Dipper beams, once Stan finishes brushing himself off. 

Stan cocks an eyebrow. “Two years’ worth is a lot to get through, kiddo”

“Exactly!” Mabel beams, turning to pick up her backpack and put it on. “Which is exactly why you can tell us on the way to the hotel!” 

“Hotel?” Ford and Stan ask in unison.

“Surprise?” Dipper giggles. “Our parents rented us a hotel room for the week cause they figured you’d appreciate some time away from the boat” 

“It’ll be like our summer in Gravity Falls all over again!” Mabel grins. “But in reverse! You’re in our territory now” 

Stan laughs. “You’re the boss, kiddo”

“You bet I am!” She beams, and hands Dipper his backpack. “Now c’mon! If you tell us all of the horrors you’ve encountered out at sea, we’ll tell you about all the horrors we’ve encountered in high school!”

“I...think I remember those horrors pretty well already, thank you” Ford smiles sheepishly, adjusting his glasses. “But we’d be more than glad to tell you some of our own stories”

It’s a short walk to the bus stop, but Ford honestly wouldn’t mind if they walked all the way to the hotel on foot if it meant an extra half an hour with the kids. They’re just as eccentric as he remembers, attached at the hip but still wildly different people all on their own. Dipper’s still hanging on to every word he’s saying, and Mabel’s still skipping along like she’s in her own world. 

Once they reach the hotel and check in, Dipper collapses face first onto one of the beds the moment he steps into the room, groaning. 

Stan smiles. “Something bothering you, kiddo?” 

He turns on his side to look Stan in the eye, his face smushing into the pillow. “Mabel didn’t let me get any sleep last night. She insisted on getting to the seaport three whole hours early because she insisted that she had this gut feeling that you guys would have the same idea and we’d magically show up at the same time” 

Mabel pouts, and sits on the bed besides him. “Well it’s not my fault you stayed up late reading that dumb book of yours. Plus, would you rather have kept them waiting for three hours?” 

Dipper removes his hat and places it on the table beside him, exposing just enough of his forehead through his hair to reveal his birthmark. It has the same faint glow to it as Mabel’s sweater, and Ford wonders how the two could possibly reflect off of each other. 

“Their boat has beds and a fully stocked kitchen, Mabel. They can afford to wait. All we had were those strawberry pop tarts that you ate five minutes after we got there”

Ford can’t help but smile softly at their banter. He missed them so, so, much more than he could’ve ever imagined. He’s got half a mind to stow them away on the boat at the end of the week and homeschool them both himself so he never has to be apart from them again.

Apart. The word still feels like a knife twisted into his chest. There’s nothing he regrets more than trying to separate the young twins from each other two summers ago because he’d been so caught up in projecting his own fears onto the pair. He’d tried apologizing to Mabel over the whole ordeal, but she stopped him before he could even start to tell him he had nothing to worry about.

He only wishes he could learn to forgive himself as easily as she did.

“...Can we, Grunkle Ford?”

He blushes. Had he just said all of that out loud?

“Can we...what?” 

“Take the boat out! Not right now, since Dips is being a grumpy-grump and insists on wasting precious time with a nap, but we’ve been talking about it all week”

From across the room, Stan snorts. “Let me get this straight,” he takes his jacket off and hangs it up in the closet. At this point Ford swears his eyes must be playing tricks on him, because Stan’s old burn scar is glowing just as Mabel’s sweater and Dipper’s birthmark are. “All the time you spent groaning and complaining about fishing every time I took you in Gravity Falls, and now you’re asking to go fishing?” 

“I was thinking more along the lines of a joy ride,” Dipper yawns from under the covers. “But if agreeing to go fishing is what gets you to say yes, then sure” 

He’s smirking under the covers, Ford can tell, because he inherited that expression from Stan.

Stan’s about to bite back, but Dipper must not have been exaggerating about how long he and Mabel were waiting for them at the dock, because he’s already out cold. Stan smiles at him, gently ruffling up his hair before he takes a seat on the adjacent bed, kicking his shoes off so he can kick his feet up on the bed and relax. Ford sits beside Stan, and Stan slings his arms behind him to support his head in his hands as he glances over at Ford. 

“They make you wanna retire the whole ‘treasure hunting’ thing and move into the city to be closer to ‘em too?”

Ford chuckles. “I’ve already considered hiding them away on the boat twice today already.” He taps at his chin. “Though I suppose that moving in with them would go over better with their parents then taking them away to live on a boat” 

“Hmm…” Stan taps at his chin as well. “Being stuck in the same stuffy high school for four years, or living on a boat traveling all over the world whenever they feel like it? I dunno about you, Sixer, but I have a pretty good idea on what the kids would prefer”

“Grunkle Stan? Grunkle Ford?” Mabel’s voice suddenly chimes in, and Ford blushes, wondering how much of that she just heard. 

“What’s on your mind, pumpkin?” Stan asks. 

“Well, uh, Dipper was right about us only eating once really early this morning, and I was wondering if you’d be willing to, uh” She twirls her hair between her fingers. “Cook something for us? For old time’s sake?”

Okay, it’s settled, Ford’s never letting these kids go again. 

“Sure, kiddo. Soon as your brother’s up we’ll head right back up, okay?” 

“Okay!” she beams, and crawls back into her side of the bed, staring at Dipper like she can will him into waking up on command. 

Though Ford would’ve been okay if they’d had to wait hours for him, it’s really only about twenty minutes before Dipper opens his eyes again and nearly shrieks in surprise at Mabel’s face hovering three inches from his own. He smacks his hand into her face to shove her away, and she giggles as she rolls off the bed and onto the floor. 

Beside Ford, Stan smirks. “Better get up before we leave without you and all our food goes to Mabel, kiddo. You’ve got plenty of time to crash in Ford’s bed on the ship, since he never seems to use it anyway”

Dipper yawns, rubbing at his eyes as he kicks the covers off. “I hadn’t even realized I’d fallen asleep”

“I didn’t realize you were even capable of sleep, bro-bro” Mabel punches him in the shoulder as she walks past him to put her shoes on. He glares at her wordlessly, and Ford has to cover up his snicker with a fake cough. 

This time, the bus ride and the walk back to the ship are a quiet one. Ford never really lets himself let his guard down and relax for an extended period of the time, so he cherishes any moment he can get where he finally feels like he doesn’t constantly feel the need to check over his shoulder for signs of danger. Most of the time, if you asked him about his heightened senses, he’d call them a curse. But on days like these, when he can hear the birds chirping and the waves smacking gently against the boats in the seaport, he’d almost go as far as calling it a blessing. 

The kids take a seat at the dining table as soon as they enter the kitchen, and Stan grins at them from over his shoulder as he clicks the stove on. “Whaddya say, Stancakes?” 

Dipper and Mabel grimace in unison. “Ewwww, Grunkle Stan, you promised lunch!” Mabel scrunches her nose, and Stan’s grin only widens. 

“Ah, ah, you said like old times. That means I get to decide what to make, and you have to eat it because I’m your legal guardian”.

“Well I wasn’t even awake when you were talking about old times, so I’d say that cancels out” Dipper crosses his arms over his chest, and Ford can’t help but smile warmly at the three of them as he reaches into the cupboard for his favorite coffee mug. The younger twins clearly had just gotten two copies of the same mug, but crossed both of them out so they’d say #1 GRUNKLES on them instead of #1 UNCLE. Stan has the other one, of course, but he keeps it on his bedside to hold small treasures and keepsakes because it’s, in his own words, “Too special to waste on something as ordinary as coffee”.

Ford sits himself in the seat between the younger twins at their okay, and after some back and forth banter between the four of them, they end up settling for burgers. Truth be told, this is the first time Ford’s eaten a meal in a group larger than two since the last time he and Stan visited the young twins in the winter, and he can’t help but smile into his food at the thought. The closest he’d come even remotely close to eating with others in his research years was his very, very brief time at the truck stop diner, and the experience had soured his view of...well, other people for near decades.

Now, though, he’d burn his own research dozens of times over before he’d even consider eating alone.

Stan’s chair scraping across the floor as he stands pops Ford out of his bubble of serenity. 

“Now that that’s taken care of,” Stan cracks his knuckles, smiling mischievously at Dipper and Mabel. “I think I remember a couple of kiddos finally promising their Grunkle Stan he could take them fishing”

“Promise is a strong word-” Dipper starts as he stands to place his plate in the sink, but Stan’s already placing a fishing hat on his head before he can finish his sentence. 

“Course you did! You wanna take our baby for a joyride, you gotta earn it first”

Dipper turns to Ford, like he’s expecting him to back him up.

Ford chuckles. “I don’t know, Dipper. That sounds perfectly reasonable to me”.

Dipper scoffs, sitting back down at the table. Mabel laughs. 

“Aww, C’mon, Dipper! Aren’t you all about the supernatural? For all we know, Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford could be harboring magical glowing bait that only attracts, like, magical talking fish men, or something!” 

Dipper raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t you just receive a bottle message from Mermando last week?”

“Exactly!” Mabel flashes a grin. “That must mean that he’s in the area!”

Stan laughs. “You tellin’ me you only agreed to go fishing so you could kiss and make-up with your long-distance fish boyfriend?”

“Grunkle Stan, what kind of person do you take me for?” she gasps. “He’s married! You know I would never want to break apart such a loving couple!”

Ford’s smile only warms. Where else could he partake in such a conversation that doesn’t turn heads and result in judgmental whispers? Where else can he just be like this, surrounded by loved ones who are just as weird, just as out of the ordinary as himself? In his younger years he thought for sure his place would be among the monsters and cryptids everyone in his childhood made him out to be, but even in the weirdness capital of the country he felt more alone than ever. 

“...Don’t think you’re immune, Sixer” Stan’s voice cuts into his thoughts, and before Ford can ask what he means Stan is smacking a homemade fishing cap on his head. “It may ruin your badass image when we’re monster hunting, or whatever, but we’re fishing with the kids.” Stan gestures to them with his thumb. They’re already outside, leaning over the railing to look out at the water in a perfect mirror of each other.  “If they have to embarrass themselves by humoring me for a few hours, so do you” 

Ford waits for Stan to join the kids outside before he takes his hat off to admire the stitch work. It’s not perfect, and nowhere near the fancy embroidery he and Stan have found in various markets across their world travels. But it’s personalized, and Ford knows it comes from a place in Stan’s mind that’s been stuck behind lock and key since he was seventeen.

Ford runs his hands along each individual letter, which reads POINDEXTER, before placing it back on his head to join the others outside. 

Stan has, miraculously, already pulled out his joke book. Stan’s laughing too hard at his own joke for Ford to really make out what the punchline is, but the younger twins’ collective groans is all he needs to know about it. When Mabel notices him stepping out of the doorway, though, her expression shifts entirely. 

“So…” she draws out, stepping towards him. “Is there a trick for attracting merpeople to your boat? I mean, asides from being super cute, obviously” 

Ford chuckles, taking a glance behind her to make sure that Stan is out of earshot. “Stan’ll kill me if I tell you this, but they’re really attracted towards shiny things. If you tied one of his gold necklaces around a fishing pole and dangled it into the water, the boat’ll be surrounded in minutes” 

Mabel offers up her pinkie finger. “I won’t tell him if you won’t”

Ford interlocks his pinkie with hers, smiling. “I think he’ll notice when a whole family of merpeople show up”

“Hmmm…” Mabel taps at her chin with her free hand, visibly mouthing a plan to herself. “Oh! I know! Come with me,” she beams, and before Ford can even open his mouth to respond she’s already dragging him back into the kitchen. She kneels down on the floor and opens the cupboard below the sink. “Got any empty bottles I can use?”

Ford blinks. “Empty....bottles”

“Yeah!” Mabel pulls a neatly folded piece of paper out of her skirt. “If I can send out my response letter the same time we throw Stan’s necklace over, he’ll never be able to tell the difference!”

“Wait, wait” Ford shakes his head. “You really are dating a merperson?”

“Listening skills, Grunkle Ford” she taps at her forehead, folding the letter back into her pocket as she continues to dig through the cupboards. “Used to date. We met at the Gravity Falls Public Pool, where he was stuck, but then I drove him to the lake in a golf cart I stole from the pool grounds because he really missed his family, and then he was my first kiss, and then we were in a long-distance relationship for like, two months, and I kept every single bottle he sent me, but then we had to break up because he was arranged to marry to prevent a big undersea war.” She picks up a bottle, shakes it, and puts it back when it’s too full for her liking. “I know it sounds, like, super complicated, but it’s all okay, because we’re still pen pals!” 

Ford laughs, shaking his head. “No, Mabel, I had to ask because I, uh…” his cheeks warm, and he clears his throat. “Before I...came to term with my orientation, I...dated a merperson too” 

The bottles in the cupboard rattle as Mabel’s head smacks against the doorframe. She’s rubbing the spot where her head hit, but there are stars in her eyes. “Really?” 

Ford’s cheeks burn even hotter. “Yes,” he whispers, and takes a knee so he can get at her eye level. “Technically he was a siren, but yes, we dated for about a month. He promised me he wouldn’t entice anyone else while we were together, but I guess there wasn’t anything...there.” He turns to help her shuffle through the cupboard, and finds a near-empty bottle of olive oil that’s definitely been sitting down there for at least a year. He hands it off to Mabel, smiling. “I’m glad that things worked out with you, though” 

To his surprise, Mabel drops the bottle and throws her arms around him in a hug. “I can’t wait to introduce you! He’s gonna love you”

Ford huffs a quiet laugh, and pulls her close as he winds his arms around her as well. The hug only lasts for a few brief moments, but it feels to Ford in those moments that time itself had stopped. Mabel stands, taking the bottle in one hand and offering to help Ford up in her other. 

Mabel places the bottle in the sink and turns the water on to rinse it out before she turns back towards Ford, stretching her arms up in the air as if she were warming up for an exercise. “Alright, here’s the plan. You tell me where Grunkle Stan keeps all of his jewelry, and I’ll sneak in and take his necklace while you distract him. Got it?”

Ford smiles. “Got it”.

As Mabel splits away for Stan’s bedroom, Ford heads back out to the deck. Dipper’s leaning over the side of the boat pointing at something jumping out of the water, rambling excitedly to Stan beside him. He’s holding his fishing hat in his hand to stop it from blowing into the water, and his hair is bouncing in the breeze. It’s just enough for the edge of his birthmark to poke through his bangs, and even in broad daylight it seems to be emitting a faint glow.

“I found it!” Mabel cheers, bounding up from behind him. She’s wearing the chain around her neck, and for some reason the gold seems much dimmer in contrast to her sweater. She takes it off and hands it to him. “You wanna do the honors while I go and throw this overboard?”

Ford smiles, ruffling her hair. “Sure thing.” He walks over to where Stan and Dipper are chatting and picks up one of the extra fishing rods. Making sure that Stan’s too engrossed with his conversation to notice, Ford starts wrapping the chain along the line, and at the signal from Mabel, he tosses his line as far from the boat as he can manage.

Five minutes pass before Mabel squeals so loud that Ford’s afraid his glasses might shatter. He reaches for the gun he knows he’s got stashed in his pants pocket, but when he turns to run to her aid she’s leaning halfway over the boat wrapping her arms around a young merman in a tight hug.

“...so good to see you again!” She’s beaming. “I didn’t think you’d be able to find us so quickly!”

“Yes, well, you were easy to track down after we figured out the coordinates to the seaport” the young man says in a thick Spanish accent. “It is good to see you too! My family was so excited to meet you”

“Your family?” she gasps. “Did they all come with you?” 

“Of course!” he grins. “We merpeople are very family oriented. Wherever we go, we go together” 

Ford winces at the uncanny familiarity of the statement. Mabel must recognize the statement too, because she responds with “Oh, that reminds me! There’s someone I want you guys to meet! Wait right here,” she says, and comes bouncing back over to Ford. Taking his hand in her own, she starts to drag him back to where she’d just been leaning. “C’mon! He’s the one I was just talking about!”

Three more merpeople emerge from the water when she gently knocks on the side of the boat again. “Grunkle Ford, this is Mermando!” she grins, gesturing to the young merman she’d just been conversing with. “He’s the one I helped reunite with his family after they were separated by tragic circumstances.” She wraps her arms around Ford in a side-hug. “Mermando, this is my Grunkle Ford! He was also separated from his family by tragic circumstances, but I helped with that too!” 

Mermando laughs. “Even when you think it’s the end, family always finds its way, doesn’t it?”

Ford laughs, shaking his hand. “It always seems that way to me”

“Awwww!” Mabel squeals. “I knew you’d get along!” She grins, and turns her attention back towards Mermando. “Before I forget, though, did you see where Grunkle Ford threw that gold necklace? If I don’t get it back my Grunkle Stan’s gonna kill me��

Mermando laughs again. “I was wondering if that belonged to any of you!” He takes off his shell necklace to reveal that he’d put Stan’s necklace on around his neck. He takes that off, too, and offers it to Ford. “I much prefer this one, anyway” he clicks his shell necklace open, revealing it to be a locket with a picture of his family inside.

Ford takes the gold necklace back, and he means to thank him, but a bell ringing from elsewhere in the port interrupts him before he can open his mouth. Mermando turns to Mabel, taking her hands in his own. “We must go. I’m so sorry we have to leave so soon, but we merpeople recognize the sounds of fishing boats very easily. We’ll try to come back later this week” He opens his arms for her once more, and Mabel wraps his arms around him in a quick hug before she watches him and his family swim away. 

“I am so glad that all you were doing was hugging,” Dipper shudders as he and Stan approach Ford and Mabel. “I’m not sure my stomach could handle witnessing you two kissing a second time” 

“Awww,” Mabel punches him playfully in the shoulder. “You’re just jealous that I had a boyfriend before you did!” 

Dipper cringes. “If you having a boyfriend before I do means I didn’t have to be the one dating a fish, then I’m glad you were the one who got stuck with him first” He punches her back, and gestures at Stan over his shoulder with his thumb. “But anyways, I came over here because Grunkle Stan says he wants to get out on the open water before everyone else gets the idea, or something”.

Ford pockets Stan’s necklace and makes a mental note to put it away sometime later tonight when Stan is too distracted to notice. “Tell Stan I’m going to untie the rope from the edge of the dock, and when he sees me back on board we’re all set to go.”

Nodding, Dipper bounds off towards the navigation room where Stan must be waiting, and Ford steps off of the boat to take care of everything else. On the way to the bow, he traces a hand along the white painted STAN O’ WAR II, and a feeling of warmth sprouts in his chest. Once back on board, he waves to Stan as he passes besides the navigation room once more, and takes a seat on one of the beach chairs they liked to keep aboard. 

Most days, Ford prefers to be the one at the wheel. But every once in a while he just wants to be. All he wants to do is lean back in one of their beach chairs and let the sun warm his face. It’s a good kind of warm, the same way spending time with the kids and heavy rain hitting his bedroom window and planning new escapades with Stan feel warm. After so, so long of only knowing unbearable burns, it feels indescribable to have a constant back in his life that heals, rather than hurts. 

“Mind if we join you?” Dipper asks, and Ford glances over to see both of the young twins dragging a chair behind them.

Speaking of healing constants.

“Sure,” Ford says, and can’t help the warmth spilling through his tone. They pull their chairs up on either side of him, and curl up to enjoy the warm breeze. Dipper places his hat on his lap to let the wind blow through his hair, and Mabel stretches her arms out behind her head to act as her own pillow. Ford chuckles silently at the pair, and closes his eyes to let himself relax.

All is quiet when Stan finally finds them a spot out on the open water without a single other boat in sight. The water is nearly still, save for the occasional small wave that gently sways the boat. The sun is at its afternoon high, turning the water beautiful shades of teal and aqua. Fishing is tedious, but it’s careful work, and gives Ford something to put all of his focus into. Two whole hours pass before any of them catch a thing, and Stan laughs himself to tears when it’s Dipper who pulls up a single sardine. 

Typically Ford prefers much more immersive activities, but right now there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. The sun is starting to set before they realize they aren’t going to have much luck catching anything, and instead decide to take the boat for another ride around the harbor to look for a better place to eventually watch the stars. 

“...Great Uncle Ford?” Dipper approaches him shyly once they’ve anchored the boat.

“Yes?”

He tugs shyly at the edge of his sweater. “I…” he starts. “I know you’ve told me that the multiverse was dangerous, and all, but...was there ever anything you enjoyed about it?” He pauses. “What were the sunsets like?”

Ford chuckles, patting at the seat beside him, and Dipper’s eyes light up as he sits down.

“You’re right,” Ford starts, folding his hands together. “I wouldn’t wish what I went through on even my worst enemies, Dipper. It was practically impossible to get any decent amount of sleep and even harder to find food digestible by human kind. I lost some of my best years to the multiverse when I could’ve gone on to become the most renowned scientist in the world.” Ford turns his gaze away from the sun setting on the horizon to meet Dipper’s eyes, but he’s frowning, eyes cast downwards towards the deck of the ship.

“But,” Ford adds before the poor kid can get too lost in his own head, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It definitely had its perks.” He smiles. “The sun in Dimension 18.2 would emit a sound that mimicked a lullaby every night as it set. Dimension 47’23 had three moons that would shift phases before your very eyes. I haven’t told Mabel because I’m afraid she’ll try activating a portal of her own and run away, but in Dimension 25-12, everyone and everything looks like a watercolor painting. There’s danger in the multiverse, but there’s beauty in equal measure”

“Do you ever miss it?” Dipper fiddles with his hands, like he’s trying real hard not to say the wrong thing. “I mean, I know you don’t miss being lost, or having no idea if you’re ever going to see home again, but...is there any dimension...where you could’ve seen yourself staying, if you thought you couldn’t make it back?” 

Ford shifts in his chair so he doesn’t have to twist his neck so much to look directly at his nephew. “Occasionally,” he muses. “I met the most friendly faces in Dimension 52, so my mind does tend to wander there from time to time” he smiles. “But rest assured, there is something in this dimension that makes it my favorite”

“Oh yeah?” Dipper’s eyes light up. “Over every other dimension you’ve passed through? What is it?”

Ford gently nudges Dipper’s shoulder. “You and your sister”

Dipper’s cheeks turn bright red, and he looks as though he’s struggling not to bury his face into the collar of his sweater and disappear. “Really?” his voice squeaks.

Ford nods. “Everything I had in those other dimensions were fleeting, Dipper. At a moment’s notice everything I grew to love could disappear in the blink of an eye. The very thing happened to me in Dimension 52. When I fell asleep, I woke up in a new dimension I didn’t recognize. Things may have been more advanced, and there may have been dimensions crafted to give you your greatest desires, but in the end nothing ever lasted.” 

Now it’s Ford’s turn to divert Dipper’s eyes, gaze casting towards the floor. “Stan was cut from my life completely in the dimension that claimed to be a perfect world. I had nobody. Even in dimensions that actively worked towards my happiness, I was all alone” Ford shakes his head, and turns his gaze once more out on the horizon. The sun is still touching the horizon, but it’s dipped just low enough that some of the stars are beginning to show in the sky. 

“But...here, at home, everything is consistent. I don’t have to worry about waking up in the morning to find that everyone I love is gone. I can keep everyone in arm’s lengths, even when Stan and I can only communicate with you and your sister over a video call. I’m…” Ford gently squeezes his hands to reassure himself that this is real and now. “...happy. Happier than I’ve been in decades” 

Beside him, Dipper yawns, and when Ford spares a glance over at him he’s smiling at him sleepily.  “We’re really happy you’re here too, Grunkle Ford” he murmurs, and his eyes slip closed. Ford’s cheeks flush pink, and he has to choke back a laugh because that’s one of the first times Dipper’s felt comfortable enough to call him Grunkle. 

Ford stands, so as not to wake Dipper from his nap. A small glance to his right and he catches a glimpse of Stan and Mabel leaning against the side of the boat watching the sunset just outside of earshot of his current conversation with Dipper.

“You finally bore him to sleep with all your nerdy science talk?” Stan asks as he approaches, sparing a glance behind him at Dipper. “Was starting to think that the poor kid would never get a nap in” 

“Yes, well,” Ford smirks. “I’m sure it helped plenty that you bored him to death by taking him fishing first”

Stan gasps in mock offense, and slugs him in the shoulder. “Hey, at least I’m engaging them in something they can actually interact with, unlike your kooky alien stories, or whatever”

Ford can’t help the laugh that escapes him. “Bold statement coming from the man who dedicated thirty years of his life rescuing me from said kooky aliens” he says, returning with a punch of his own. Stan opens his mouth to argue back, realizes he has nothing to say, and closes his mouth. The sight of it makes Ford laugh even harder, keeling over and slapping a hand on Stan’s shoulder to support himself. It must be contagious, because it’s not long before Stan is laughing too.

Ford removes his glasses to wipe the tears from his eyes, and cleans off the lenses with the edge of his sweater. Once his eyes adjust after he puts them back on, his throat nearly catches in his throat when he glances back out towards the water. He’s just able to catch a shooting star before it disappears over the horizon, and the boat’s just far out enough on the water that there isn’t an ounce of light pollution obscuring the rest of the stars in the sky.  He takes a few steps back so he can look up and admire more of them at once, and if he looks close enough he can see them twinkling. 

Before he can ask the others if they’re seeing the same thing, a bright flash of light coming from somewhere on the boat cuts into his thoughts. He turns, to make sure that none of the lights in any of the rooms are on, but no, they’d turned those off when they’d started fishing. Scratching at his head, he turns to Stan and Mabel to ask if they have any idea where the light is coming from, but that question catches in its throat as quickly as it formulated.

They’re the ones emitting light.

Or, rather, Mabel’s sweater and Stan’s shoulder, approximately where his burn scar should be. Those are emitting light. 

...Surely it must just be the reflection of the starlight on the water, right? That same bright light must have woken Dipper from his nap, yes? 

He turns heel to ask Dipper the same question, but freezes in his tracks before he can take a single step forward. Dipper’s forehead is glowing too, the same way it has since he and Stan docked the boat this morning. 

It...It can’t be, can it?

Gripping his forehead, Ford takes a number of steps backwards until his back hits the wall. Maybe...maybe he just needs to call it a night. He’s been awake since sunrise, maybe his vision is just blurring because he needs to lie down? 

He waves his hands in front of his face, but no, those don’t look any different. He squints, to make sure his hands aren’t shaking, but no, they’re perfectly still.

He squints at Stan and Mabel, just to try and see if his eyes are watering, and-

He gasps. 

Mabel’s sweater, Dipper’s forehead, Stan’s shoulder; they’re not glowing; they’re twinkling like the stars. It was hard to tell in broad daylight, but now that they’re surrounded by a thousand shining stars, the resemblance is unmistakable. 

But...that’s not possible. If he can see them twinkling, but none of them have said anything about it, that could only be if those were…

...soulmarks. 

Ford suddenly feels like he’s going to pass out. 

He slides to the floor.

Is...Is that even possible? Ford thought for sure that study he read years ago was nothing but a joke. Someone...who does everything in their power to bring you two together, no matter the cost? Someone who, even though you may not meet for decades, will feel as though you’ve known each other their entire lives? Someone who will do anything for you, no matter the personal expense?

Someone...someone like Stan, who spent a painstaking thirty years teaching himself quantum physics to rescue someone that anyone else would assume dead? The man who sacrificed his very mind, his very life, so he could be spared physical torture?

Or...someone like Mabel, the first friendly face he saw after emerging from the portal? The one who forgave him so easily after he tried to separate her from her brother? The one who insists on calling him a good person, despite all of those he knows he hurt? 

Or...Dipper? His kindred spirit in all things supernatural? The one who, alongside his sister, sacrificed himself as bait for the most dangerous being in the entire multiverse? Who saw memories of him at his very worst, and apologized to him for snooping?

After everything he’s been through...could things really work out that well in his favor? To not have one soulmate but three, and the guarantee that they’ll never leave, because they’ve already expressed how they love him so? 

There’s a tear streaming down his cheek at the thought, but he’s too distracted by a fourth light suddenly emitting from...himself to really notice.

He spares a cautious glance downward, and notices a pulsing light emerging from his chest in perfect time with his heartbeat. If he looks closely, he notices that the light travels down his arms and ties itself into a translucent bow around his fingers. If he looks closer still, the light looks as though it’s slinking faintly across the deck of the boat and reaching towards the gentle twinkling of Stan and Mabel’s marks.

Ford places a hand to his forehead, throws his head back, and laughs his throat dry, paying no mind to the tears pouring down his face.

[magnoliasinbloom]

Lie To Me - 11

AO3 :: Previously

Jamie thinks his uncles might have kept closer tabs on him if he hadn’t acted so compliant in the last few years. Agreeing to marry Laoghaire, staying on at Leoch, keeping his head down. All the while, they’d let the cuckoo in the nest and he hopes he is preparing the massive downfall of the MacKenzie empire—with Claire’s help.

This is how he is able to create a fictitious acquisition meeting in London, regarding an up and coming author. The author is real, but the meeting is not. He has Louise, his executive assistant, register his schedule into the system, and book his lodgings for two days.

Claire books a room at the same hotel.

Laoghaire bids him farewell at their shared flat, glad to see him go; he knows she’ll spend these days with Joseph. He is happy for her. Now, Jamie boards the train taking him and Claire to London, sitting side by side, surreptitiously holding hands. He had tucked copies of the most basic documents pertaining to the investigation into Leoch’s business into his duffel bag.

“What do you mean, you’ve never toured London properly?” Claire leans back from her position tucked into Jamie’s shoulder to look at him in surprise.

“Aye, well, Mam and Da took Jenny and me when we were weans. We went to the Tower, the British Museum, the V&A and such, but I dinna really remember it.”

“Very culturally inclined, your parents.”

“My mam studied art history at uni. She was very much into art and history and culture and wanted her children to appreciate it too.” Jamie smiles. “Now, what made ye decide to be a doctor?”

Her answer is immediate. “Helping out at dig sites with my Uncle Lamb. I was always one of the few women there and I suppose caring for the people came naturally to me.”

“I admire ye, Sassenach. ‘Tis a noble calling.” Jamie lifts Claire’s hand to his mouth and presses a kiss to her fingers.

“It’s a hard one too. I’m afraid it takes up a lot of my time, days and nights, conferences, emergencies…” She wants Jamie to be aware that, no matter how much she cares for him, her calling to heal often consumes her. It’s something that Frank never understood.

“I dinna mind. I’ll take ye any way I can, Claire.”

X-x-X

They check into the Park Grand separately; their rooms are on different floors. Jamie lingers for a few minutes in the lobby while Claire goes up with her small suitcase. He wishes things were different—Jamie, unattached, a regular lad with a normal job, visiting London with his girlfriend, spending their nights in the same room.

Claire, for her part, closes the door to her own room, resting her palm against the wood, and wishes Jamie had followed her there. Their acquaintance and budding relationship are fraught with so many obstacles and complications, but she is determined to make something of it, to emerge victorious, to help the man she has come to love.

Frank has agreed to meet Claire at the bar in the Royal Lancaster Hotel. Jamie meets her in the lobby and together ride the metro as unobtrusively as possible to the designated location. Claire is nervous; it’s the first time in nearly a year that she’s seeing Frank, but the fluttering is tempered by Jamie at her side.

Claire recognizes Frank by the sharp cut of his hair; he’s sitting at a table in the middle of the bar, his back to them. With a deep, shaky breath, and a squeeze of Jamie’s hand in hers, she approaches and briefly startles her ex-husband with a quiet, “Hello, Frank.”

Jamie notes the way Randall’s neck stiffens and turns slowly to greet Claire. He does a double take when he sees Jamie beside her, holding her hand. He keeps an impassive face while Frank gives Claire a brief peck on the cheek and then gestures to Jamie.

“And who is this? I had the notion we would be meeting alone.” He has a good poker face, but Jamie’s is better.

“James Fraser.” He extends his hand and Randall grasps it out of courtesy, evidently trying to intimidate with the strength of his grip. Jamie matches it and is gratified to see him wince.

“Actually, Frank, he is the reason I’m here.” Claire sits at the table and plasters a smile when the server comes to take their drink order. “Two whiskies, please. Neat.” Left alone once more, Claire lowers her voice and says, “I hadn’t mentioned him before because I thought you might not want to see me.”

“I just didn’t think you would be that… quick,” Frank says, raising both eyebrows.

Claire’s cheeks color slightly, and Jamie suppresses the urge to punch Frank in the face. But his Sassenach is more than equal to the task. “You were quicker, I think, since we were still married.”

Frank offers a tight-lipped smile. “Touché.”

“Mr. Randall, the reason we’re here is that we need yer help with a delicate matter. It’s something that will benefit us both.”

“What is it you think you can do for me?”

“I work for Leoch Holdings.” Jamie senses Frank’s curiosity peak at the name. “My uncles own the business, and I have been made aware of many dealings that are less than… legal.”

“If it’s your uncles’ own company, why are you working against them?” Frank sips casually from a glass of white wine, but it is evident he’s interested.

“They are blackmailing me with false murder charges.” Jamie doesn’t blink even as Frank flinches and he sees Claire clutch her whisky glass tighter at the words. “There is corruption, crime, extorsion, ye name it. My godfather is working within the Glasgow police force to help me, and is in touch with Chief John Grey at the SCD.”

“If you have their assistance, why come to me?” Frank glances between Claire and Jamie, prompting her to reach for Jamie’s hand again and lay them on the table; their connection is evident, as is their support of each other.

“There are a great many people implicated, and there are precious few we can trust wi’ this information. Ye have access to certain resources we do not.”

“Do you have any documentation to go on? Something solid?”

Jamie pulls out papers from his coat inside pocket. “I brought these to get you started. I shouldna have to mention that it’s sensitive information, and the less eyes that see it, the better.”

Randall peruses the documents, rifling through the pages; his eyes widen as he reads the names Jamie has seen time and time again, almost unable to believe the scope of Leoch’s shady operations.

“This is quite an undertaking. Some of these people… the scandal would rock the nation.” Frank’s tone is noncommittal, and Jamie feels his stomach sinking.

“So ye dinna think it’s possible then,” he says dejectedly.

“I didn’t say that.” Frank is quiet for a few minutes, going over the papers once more. “From what I can gather, a key element is finding out where the money is going, all these names and payments… If we can find the accounts, we’d be in business.”

Claire tosses back her whisky. “It’s massive, Frank,” she says quietly, leaning in and he imitates her unconsciously. “There’s politicians, judges, police officers, money, extorsion… if you were to help Jamie—help us—and put an end to this, it will no doubt aid in your efforts to solidify yourself as a model MP. Maybe even PM someday.” She knows the prospect is like dangling a carrot in front of a horse. She recognizes the old gleam of a challenge in Frank’s eyes, and a small swell of relief takes hold inside her. If anyone can help them, it’s this man; despite the crumbled marriage between them, she can trust him with this. Frank seems to read her mind, and asks:

“Why trust me with this, Claire? After what I did to you?”

“Not only is your name not in the documents—and I didn’t think it would be—but I know exactly how important your political career is to you. Much more important than I ever was.” Claire’s voice is steadfast and Frank does not dispute her statement. “So, you’ll do it?”

“I will.” Frank tucks the papers into his own coat pocket, drinking the dregs of wine. “I believe I owe it to you.”

“You bloody well do, Francis Randall.” Claire and Jamie both feel that spark of hope ignite within, a way out of the dark tunnel Jamie has been in for years and that Claire has also chosen to walk.

As they prepare to leave, Frank remains sitting; Claire can feel his scrutiny, appraising them, judging, drawing his own conclusions about what Jamie means to her.

“Is it worth it?” Frank asks suddenly, his parting shot. Claire feels Jamie stiffen next to her and she is tempted to let him thump Frank, but doesn’t want to undermine their efforts quite yet. Claire holds Frank’s gaze and responds simply.

“He is.”

[jedimaesteryoda]

The Reader: the Crow’s Eye’s True Nemesis

Lord Rodrik “the Reader” Harlaw is introduced in Asha’s first POV. He is her (favorite) maternal uncle, and good-brother to the late Lord of Pyke (as well as possibly the eponym for Balon’s firstborn son). He is the Lord of Ten Towers, Lord of Harlaw. 

Lord Rodrik was seldom seen without a book in hand, be it in the privy, on the deck of his Sea Song, or whilst holding audience. Asha had oft seen him reading on his high seat beneath the silver scythes. He would listen to each case as it was laid before him, pronounce his judgment . . . and read a bit whilst his captain-of-guards went to bring in the next supplicant . . .  Lord Rodrik Harlaw was neither fat nor slim; neither tall nor short; neither ugly nor handsome. His hair was brown, as were his eyes, though the short, neat beard he favored had gone grey. All in all, he was an ordinary man, distinguished only by his love of written words, which so many ironborn found unmanly and perverse.

-A Feast for Crows, The Kraken’s Daughter

Rodrik is indistinguishable as far as physical appearance goes. He possesses neither the muscular frame of a warrior like Victarion, a handsome face like Jaime Lannister or even a disability or disfigurement like Tyrion. He is very unremarkable and uncharismatic, a guy who couldn’t stand out in a crowd as opposed to the handsome, charismatic Euron. 

What truly distinguishes him is that instead of being a hyper-masculine warrior who likes to pay the iron price and has a gung-ho attitude towards the Old Way, he is, as his sobriquet suggests, a bibliophile in an anti-intellectual warrior culture that disdains reading, likely due to its association with greenlanders. 

He also happens to be the guy who is always right: stating to Asha that she won’t win the kingsmoot, the Old Way is dead, that Euron’s plans to sail to Slaver’s Bay and attack the Reach were bad ideas, etc. Hell, his advice to Asha to read Haereg actually provides her the tool she needs to effectively overturn the decision of the kingsmoot.

One must also note his sigil: a scythe. While the scythe is often associated with the personification of death in popular culture, Death AKA the Grim Reaper, one must remember that, unlike the sword which is designed solely for war, the scythe is actually a farmer’s tool used for harvesting grain. The scythe stands in direct contrast to the House Greyjoy words “We Do Not Sow.” It fits with Harlaw being the most fertile of the Iron Isles, and the Reader’s more peaceful, constructive approach as opposed to the Greyjoys’ purely martial approach.

"Asha, my two tall sons fed the crabs of Fair Isle."

-A Feast for Crows, The Kraken’s Daughter

“The Old Way served the isles well when we were one small kingdom amongst many, but Aegon's Conquest put an end to that. Balon refused to see what was plain before him. The Old Way died with Black Harren and his sons . . . his dream of kingship is a madness in our blood. I told your father so the first time he rose, and it is more true now than it was then. It's land we need, not crowns. With Stannis Baratheon and Tywin Lannister contending for the Iron Throne, we have a rare chance to improve our lot. Let us take one side or the other, help them to victory with our fleets, and claim the lands we need from a grateful king."

-A Feast for Crows, The Kraken’s Daughter

His attitude towards the Old Way is the opposite of the general revanchist attitude seen among Ironborn like the Greyjoy brothers. He sees it as a bygone relic of a distant past that no longer works in the present. He knows the dream of Iron Islands independence is a pipe dream. Part of it is the personal losses he suffered in the Greyjoy Rebellion. He lost both his sons in that war, his sisters ended up going mad after Gwynesse lost her husband and Alannys lost her two eldest sons and her youngest was taken as a hostage. 

Moving from that, and showing keen political acumen, he sees an opportunity for the Iron Islands to take advantage of to improve their situation. He suggests the Ironborn use their fleets as political leverage to gain some land on the mainland, which for millennia had been an Ironborn aspiration. During the reign of Qhored the Cruel, the Ironborn had an empire on the western coast that extended from Bear Island to the Arbor. The reign of the Hoare kings from Harwyn to Harren Hoare had them ruling the riverlands. These conquests provided the Ironborn with the resources that their small, rocky islands lacked with their holdings in the fertile riverlands and Reach providing them grain and foodstuffs, and even the poor Bear Island providing an access point for timber, the essential raw material in shipbuilding. Even Balon’s plan involved that aspect with regards to conquering the North. The Reader suggests gaining land on the mainland not through conquest, which in Ironborn history has always shown to be short-lived, but through diplomacy, a grant via negotiations with a king on the Iron Throne. This would allow them to have holdings on the mainland, but in a more stable and permanent manner than in the past given their dominion would be state-sanctioned. 

Also, let’s look at a scene in Victarion’s last POV in A Feast for Crows. 

In the yard Victarion came on Gorold Goodbrother and old Drumm, speaking quietly with Rodrik Harlaw.

-The Reaver

The Reader is noted to be talking with the Lords Goodbrother and Drumm. What do we know of them?

Gorold Goodbrother is Lord of Hammerhorn on Great Wyk. His fief is removed from the coast of Great Wyk, with much of his wealth being derived from his mines rather than the sea. He holds his maester in such high regard that he refused to let Damphair send him away.

Dunstan Drumm is Lord of Old Wyk. He is also one of the failed candidates at the kingsmoot.

What’s more, the fact that they are "speaking quietly” suggests that they are trying to avoid being heard. Just what could they be discussing? After, they were spotted talking, Rodrik and Dunstan voice their concerns about Euron’s taking of the Shield Islands and inviting the wroth of House Tyrell. The Reader was likely making alliances with other dissenting lords, and building a political base of his own.

Then, there is this scene later in the chapter when Euron proposes sailing the entire Ironborn fleet to Slaver’s Bay. Rodrik challenges his plan with facts. 

"When?" The voice was Lord Rodrik's. "When shall we return, Your Grace? A year? Three years? Five? Your dragons are a world away, and autumn is upon us." The Reader walked forward, sounding all the hazards. "Galleys guard the Redwyne Straits. The Dornish coast is dry and bleak, four hundred leagues of whirlpools, cliffs, and hidden shoals with hardly a safe landing anywhere. Beyond wait the Stepstones, with their storms and their nests of Lysene and Myrish pirates. If a thousand ships set sail, three hundred may reach the far side of the narrow sea . . . and then what? Lys will not welcome us, nor will Volantis. Where will you find fresh water, food? The first storm will scatter us across half the earth."

A smile played across Euron's blue lips. "I am the storm, my lord. The first storm, and the last. I have taken the Silence on longer voyages than this, and ones far more hazardous. Have you forgotten? I have sailed the Smoking Sea and seen Valyria."

"Have you?" the Reader asked, so softly.

Euron's blue smile vanished. "Reader," he said into the quiet, "you would do well to keep your nose in your books."

-The Reaver

While clearly not the kind of guy who goes looking for a fight, he is no coward either, given it takes guts to basically call Euron a liar to his face in front of everyone. With a simple question, he manages to be the only person to visibly get under Euron’s skin. It’s the only time we ever see Euron lose his cool as he basically responds by threatening Rodrik. 

"Are we slavers now?" asked the Reader. "And for what? Dragons that no man here has seen? Shall we chase some drunken sailor's fancy to the far ends of the earth?"

His words drew mutters of assent. "Slaver's Bay is too far," called out Ralf the Limper. "And too close to Valyria," shouted Quellon Humble. Fralegg the Strong said, "Highgarden's close. I say, look for dragons there. The golden kind!" Alvyn Sharp said, "Why sail the world, when the Mander lies before us?" Red Ralf Stonehouse bounded to his feet. "Oldtown is richer, and the Arbor richer still. Redwyne's fleet is off away. We need only reach out our hand to pluck the ripest fruit in Westeros."

"Fruit?" The king's eye looked more black than blue. "Only a craven would steal a fruit when he could take the orchard."

"It is the Arbor we want," said Red Ralf, and other men took up the cry. The Crow's Eye let the shouts wash over him. Then he leapt down from the table, grabbed his slattern by the arm, and pulled her from the hall.

Fled, like a dog. Euron's hold upon the Seastone Chair suddenly did not seem as secure as it had a few moments before.

-The Reaver

The Reader is able to successfully get the whole room on his side in opposing Euron’s plan to sail for Slaver’s Bay with Euron effectively losing control of the situation, and fleeing the scene. While Euron was always able to effectively dispatch his fellow Greyjoys from his brothers to his niece, Rodrik manages to succeed in politically outmaneuvering him. He managed to go up against the man who decisively won the kingsmoot and win. The Reader is clearly no warrior, but he manages to be a skilled politician. 

Euron has a formidable rival in Rodrik Harlaw. Unlike Euron’s fellow Greyjoys, Rodrik commands his own seat that can be used to oppose Euron. Harlaw being the most populous and wealthiest of the Iron Isles also effectively makes the Reader the most powerful lord on the Iron Isles. Rodrik’s vast store of knowledge from a lifetime of reading allows him to be the man who pulls Euron’s curtain, with actual facts being the antidote to Euron’s tricks. Not only that, but Harlaw has enough skills as a politician to potentially build a coalition to oppose Euron. 

We shall see where it leads as the series goes on. 

[theangrycomet]

“You win. Kind of cheated, but you win.”

-Devlin Evan Levin

Notes: Edited

*When first writing my stories I didn’t realize Kevin wasn’t Canonically Trans, so his procreations follows the Trans!Kevin Head Canon*

*Osmosians are Aliens*

*The Rooter’s arc is the same, except Kevin was just rescued by the Rooters*

*Devin Levin is Canon here, though his backstory varies*

After Kevin’s break up with Gwen, he was kind of a mess. He went back to his more shady businesses and practices. 

Sunny, wanting to snub Gwen a bit, approached him during a a lower point to have some fun

Kevin was unfortunately fooled.

When he’d found out he’d been tricked, he tried to absorb her to death. It was nearly successful too.

Due to a combination of the two’s previous *ahem* nightly activities and Kevin absorbing most of Sunny’s energy, Kevin got pregnant, much to his dismay.

Convinced he would be a bad parent, he tried to get multiple abortions to no avail; baby was too damn stubborn.

When Devlin was born, he was born in his 11 form.

But hey, Kevin finally got that Hysterectomy he’s been pushing off for years

Kevin was bluntly horrified at what he’d done to the kid. But, as Devlin reached out for him, he determined that he would love his kid to death, even if no one else would. Because f*** all if he was going to let his kid go through what he did as a kid. 

Went back to Earth because Gwen needed help (and missed him)

Went well for about two years until he was forced to absorb excess Turbonic Energy

Barely escaped being sent back to the null void (not by Tennysons, other plumbers)

Still dealing with the jerks of the business, he proceeded with the criminal lifestyle to pay the bills. He managed to keep Devlin from most of it and spent as much time as he could with him. 

He felt like he had no idea what he was doing most of the time, and constantly had to deal with other aliens trying to mess with his kid b/c of people wanting to mess with the infamous Kevin 11000

Actually got a better understanding of his own powers by teaching Devlin about his

Levin’s don’t get Normal childhoods

Birthday: Earth Time: January 2nd

Picked up his fathers’ technological prowess as well as his looks

Though it did not happen often, Devlin was knew how to deal with Kevin’s energy hangovers and subsequent mood swings

Was usually able to talk him down before anything too bad happened

Generally avoided him or fled the scene when told when Kevin got especially bad (only happened 2-3 times but the memories are still pretty vivid)

Though always threatened with being locked out if he came back after curfew, if Devlin was never actually kept out of the house. Kevin just kind of went into small panic mode.

When he was little, he loved using his alien form to cause trouble

Lighting fires with his pyronite arm

Making playhouses with his petropsian arm

(This one was tricky to figure out) Leaning back against walls hand hack security buildings with his Galvanic Mechamorph shoulder blades

Trippin’ up passerby’s with his tail

Devlin preferred the in betweens, when Kevin was most like himself and not worrying about “jerks at work”. Those were rarer than either Osmosian would have liked.

Whenever Kevin got stuck in the Null Void, waited at their hiding place until he got back

When the last time he got stuck, he waited 3 months, pretty much alone

Argit actually snuck Devlin onto Earth

Knew about his plan to get his dad out of the Null Void

Refused to help him publicly.

“And furthermore this plan is ridiculous. What, do you expect to just walts on in, befriend Ben’s youngest son, best after an argument with his old man, get him to slip up how to get in, *cough* 32ndstorybigpadlockeddoorcan’tmissit *cough* and walts out Kevin in tow? Ridiculous”.

Kenny’s Birthday weekend wasn’t the first time Devlin hadn’t been able to talk his dad out of a stupid brawl

But it was the first time Kevin physically hurt him

Devlin's not really sure how much Kevin actually cares about him any more if he was so easily able to throw him aside like that. 

Inside the Tower

He hadn’t realized that Kenny had a sister, or a mom for that matter

Didn’t really know Gwennie at first,

She eventually found a wonderful middle ground of space cars

Kai was… different

Waited to get the story from Ben about the mysterious Emo Kid presence in her living room

Immediately lost her shit at Ben, not for Devlin being brought into the house, but for not talking to her about it and, since he had evidently already made up his mind about the whole thing, still not having one of the guest room set up as his own

He hadn’t met any adult (aside from his dad) who was so brutally honest and upfront about things, having grown up with and around conmen and politicians his whole life

She kind of intimidates him

She thinks its funny that she intimidates him more than big bad Ben 10k

Ben doesn’t

Overtime, they settle into the “Protective but will let you do your thing” older sister Gwennie and “How could you be so stupid to get hurt like this! Get over here and you will let me take care of you, young man” mom role for Kai.

Kenny is definitely his best friend

As he did not grow up on Earth, he doesn’t get a lot of Earth culture stuff, especially the American side of things

What’s with all the holidays?

And why are you so obsessed with social media?

What the kriff is anime?

He regretted asking that last question

He was enrolled with school with Kenny the next school term, giving him about a year to adjust to the Tennyson household

Kids tried to pick on him for being Kevin 11K’s kid, but Kenny quickly shut that down

Ironically met one of his few friends outside of the family by starting a fight with him

Believes what he sees

Does not believe in magic. Period.

Ben tries to fill the Uncle role without stepping on toes for the Dad roe

Works surprisingly well

More of an introvert

Still a sweetheart, its just when he’s forced into an unfamiliar social situation he tends to get defensive and surly

Wasn’t interested in soccer, but found he loved hockey

Pretty damn good at it too

While smart, if he’s not interested in a subject or if a subjects hard he won’t study it

History’s his worst, with English being a close second

Tried to hide the D’s and F’s but Gwennie sniffed them out

She always knows

Additionally, he doesn’t really think past what’s in front of him

He thinks of the evidence he has in front of him and the knowledge he’s got

long term planning? Impossible

He didn’t know she was an Anodite for about a year or two. 

It wasn’t ever really brought up

Can and will question dumb leadership

Mellow other wise

Favorite Disney Movie: Lilo and Stitch

Aroflux Demisexual

Regarding his Powers

His 11 form is still his main form

He does have his own Mana, but his Osmosian side is constantly eating it away so he cannot manipulate it like a “true” Anodite can. 

He can absorb energy, but material is impossible for him

The excess energy goes into maintaining his 11 form. Because of this, when he does absorb energy

He goes to his 11 form

Retains control of his mind

If he tries to stay “human” and absorb energy is where in lies the problem

Because the energy doesn’t have anywhere to go it warps his mind

This doesn’t happen too often because he always allows the energy to outlet to his 11 form and his Anodite side generally finds ways to redirect it

With time, he learns to activate parts of his 11 form at a time

Ben mentioned off hand that at the WAY beginning, when Kevin was Devlin’s age, he could modify the energy to only work on parts of his body

It requires less energy and is convenient if he’s trying to avoid attention

Regarding Kevin

He’s still sore about being literally tossed aside in his father’s quest for power

Doesn’t want anything to do with the lying b****** at first because of he doesn’t really know what to do. He loves Ben, but he wants his dad. Like how things were before everything got all complicated. 

He has no idea what Gwendolyn saw or currently sees in him

Was conflicted when he found out his dad was getting treatment

Part of him wanted Kevin to hurt just as bad as he did when he was thrown away

Part of him wanted Kevin to get better

Part of him wanted Kevin to go away

Part of him wanted Kevin to come home as soon as possible

He was confused as to how Dr. Kincaid could help drain an Osmosian of excess power without getting killed

Devlin’s lack of Pop Culture and Current Super Hero knowledge was shown through at that point

“Turbonic Energy’s what got him into this mess, Turbonic Energy’s what’s going to get him out.”

[notbecauseofvictories]

Good things from Star Wars: Rise of the Skydude, A List I Made To Cheer Myself Up And Mostly Consists of Headcanons Anyway:

Leia is grieving. Leia is always grieving, so it often barely registers, but she notices in the wake of Crait especially---she said goodbye to her son, to a lover, not long after a husband. She is running out of excuses for putting off her misery.

If Rey had killed him on the Death Star, Leia would have understood. Would have drawn her close and kissed her forehead, forgiven her a dozen times over. (Rey never asked, and does not ask for it.)

Post-Crait, once things settled down a bit, Poe and Rey went through an extremely fraught period where they were being crushingly polite to one another while secretly, grudgingly hating one anothers’ guts. It mostly has to do with how Rey is held back for training under Leia’s direct supervision, while Poe is sent out into the teeming, terrifying galaxy to fight his General’s war. In too many awkward slantwise ways, they envy each other, and both of them are bad at expressing it in any actual way.

(Finn is mostly miserable, playing grav-ball referee between them. As Rose recovers from her injuries, he spends a lot of time ranting at her---at least until she kicks him out of the modified medbay, because “You’re being so annoying.”)

Based on that scene where Rose is tenderly supporting Kaydel as she hobbles off a damaged aircraft, they are girlfriends now. Can’t wait for them to resurrect the New New Republic with some help from slick politician and networker, who knows, owns, or owes, half the galaxy, Lando.

 And, because no generation of the Galaxy Far Far Away is complete without a discussion of liberalism versus progressiveness, there are a lot of arguments about that too.

I’m just saying, Lando and Rose would have a lot to argue about, given their respective perspectives on beautiful oases of capitalistic luxury and their impact on the galaxy as a whole.

Other things I know are true: Lando Calrissian finally gets his daughter, in the form of a wary, whipsmart ex-stormtrooper who’s better with animals than people. (But Lando knows what it looks like, when one of the galaxy’s battered orphans is in search of a home; it’s been an age and a half since Han and nevertheless, he’s weak in the face of that need.)

Rey moves into the old Whitesun/Lars farm, and immediately becomes the talk of Mos Espa---even though Luke Skywalker came through 30 years ago and killed Jabba, it’s still a small community, and gossip travels like the sun over sand. The girl who looks like Shmi’s clone but talks like crazy Old Ben, is all anyone can mutter about.

Rey gamely ignores the whispering, at least until Sandaa Redsky brings her youngest daughter to the door. Rey is covered in engine oil and probably smells worse---but Sandaa pushes lightly on her daughter’s shoulders and says, “She can make things happen.”

(The ‘things’ the Redsky girl can make happen include: floating rocks, making the sand dance against the wind, knowing when it will rain, and sensing emotion as it’s felt. “I’ll teach her,” Rey offers, feeling very young, ”but---” “Good,” Sandaa Redsky says. “She’ll be here tomorrow morning for her first lesson.”)

Can you believe that Poe goes on to helm the New New Republic Armada, and one day looks up and finds his cadets looking at him like he once looked at Leia, at Wedge Antilles?

(I forget who it was who suggested that Wedge would have been Poe’s instructor, and they might have had a thing, but that was a good headcanon, and it makes him showing up for the final battle that much more painfully interesting.)

Once, Kylo Ren tries to appear to Rey in the Force---like his mother, his uncle. Rey (standing in the middle of a busy market, watching Finn and Poe argue about credits) looks at him out of the corner of her eye, and mutters, my grandfather used to fuck yours, leave me alone.

He does. it’s a little amazing.

(I love the idea that Kylo Ren acknowledges that Rey has some sort of right over him, because her grandfather bossed his grandfather around on the regular, and how you want to interpret the scope of that ordering is up to you.)

................just for the record, when I said I wanted kylo ren super dead? whatever that was is absolutely not what I had in mind.

I have....so many questions, about things no reasonable person would expect to include in a star wars movie!!!

The First Order: what the heck is it? Do they have a base of operations somewhere? Are there a bunch of administrators on some dirtball somewhere who are like, “well I guess the supreme leader, the previous supreme leader, and our council are dead now, so....?” are there civilians? do they care?

Does anyone in the Resistance care about democracy or reestablishing it, at.........all?

wHAT THE HECK DOES A POST-WAR LOOK LIKE

On the other hand, it feels weirdly cruel to ask these question?

........god, this movie was so dumb, it’s not even fun to ask pointed worldbuilding questions. It doesn’t know! it is a dumb, dumb movie and knows nothing, and I can’t even hate it for that. It’d be like hating a particularly dim puppy for chewing your shoes---like, yes, it’s frustrating how stupid the puppy is, but it doesn’t understand “narrative stakes” or “character development” or “plot” and can hardly be expected to.

What a disappointment.

[ofsinnersandsaints]

palate cleanser (aka rebound sex)

rating: E total word count: 5596 one shot

Raven divorces her cheating husband, and after everything is finalized, she fucks her divorce attorney who is none other than John Murphy.

AO3

Raven hated that she was here, that she had to do this at all, but after finding out her husband of eight years was cheating on her, what else was she supposed to do? He’d begged her to stay, to work it out, telling her over and over how he was willing to fight for them.

She’d almost been convinced by that until she remembered he was the reason all of this had happened in the first place. If he’d really wanted to fight for them, he wouldn’t have given into temptation and broken his marriage vows.

Jesus, he’d signed a fucking rental lease with his girlfriend and now he wanted to fight for their marriage?

Bullshit.

Feeling more certain about her decision she texted Bellamy to let him know she was there. He was the one who had recommended the lawyer she was about to see, they’d apparently gone to school together and Bellamy said he was the guy to go to.

I’M HERE. JUST WAITING. ANYTHING I NEED TO KNOW BEFORE I MEET HIM?

BELLAMY: HE CAN BE AN ASSHOLE, BUT SOMETIMES IT’S GOOD TO HAVE AN ASSHOLE IN YOUR CORNER

Raven smiled as she typed out a response.

THAT’S WHAT I TELL PEOPLE ABOUT YOU!!

He sent back an emoji rolling it’s eyes and Raven was plotting a response when the receptionist called from her desk. “Mr. Murphy will see you now.”

Grabbing her jacket and big purse she walked down the short hallway to the door which said MURPHY on the frost glass, but before she could knock it opened. The man in front of her was a few inches taller than her, his posture relaxed, but his eyes were serious. For some reason when she looked at him, she thought of a 1950s greaser in a leather jacket and combat boots lounging in a booth diner.

“Raven Collins?”

She nodded and took his offered hand before he gestured for her to come into his office. “Bellamy told me you were looking to get divorced, is that right?”

Divorced, what an awful word, but she nodded again and finally found her voice. “Yes. Do you do a lot of them?”

“Enough of them,” he answered as he settled at the little table in the corner rather than his desk. Grateful, because it made the entire thing feel less formal, Raven sat across from him. “I’m a jack of all trades type of lawyer. I do a little bit of everything. What’s the reason for the divorce?”

“Infidelity.”

He nodded, but she was pretty sure she heard him mutter ‘ass’ under his breath as he made a note on his legal pad. She’d always pictures lawyers as cold and heartless, maybe a little formal, but she wasn’t getting any of those vibes from him. She wondered how long it would take for him to be an asshole.

“How long were you together?”

“Fifteen years, but we were only married for eight.”

“You meet him when you were twelve?” he joked.

“Eleven, actually.” He’d been the only person in her world for years, and Raven was just now beginning to understand how bad that was. “We married when we were eighteen. I worked, I’m a mechanic.”

“That’s hot.” The observation was so casually tossed out Raven almost missed, and he was grinning at her when she met his gaze. “That’s not professional to say.”

Okay, that was a little assholey because it wasn’t an apology, but Raven decided she wasn’t offended. Whoever this man, he didn’t appear to be the kind who kept his thoughts to himself which was refreshing after years of trying to understand Finn. “He went to college, I helped pay for some of it, and now he’s a strategist for a politician.”

She didn’t know why she was telling him this, he didn’t ask. He probably didn’t need to know her life story in order to get divorced but she was feeling particularly vulnerable and he was nearby. It probably wasn’t the first he’d had someone dump emotional baggage on him.

“Wife in town, girlfriend in DC?” he guessed.

Raven hated how easy it was for him to figure out what had taken her years. “Yes.”

He nodded and leaned back in his seat, resting his hands on his stomach as he watched her. “How badly do you want me to kick his ass?”

The question was enough of a surprise she blinked at him. “What?”

“There’s a more polite way to word the question, but you don’t seem the type to want to tiptoe around.”

“No,” at least she wasn’t anymore.

“What’s the endgame you’re looking for,” he asked. “After you file for divorced do you want to split everything down the middle and call it good? Or would you rather do whatever you have to do in order to get it done quickly? Or do you want to squeeze his balls until he calls uncle?”

“I don’t know, to be honest,” Raven said even as she laughed at the image. “I didn’t know squeezing his balls was an option.”

“It is.” He pushed his notepad to the side. “You paid for him to go to college, and now he’s what, spending the money on his girlfriend? That’s a dick move. If you want to get out quick, I get it, and we can make that happen, but if you want something else let me know.”

“I want my own shop,” she told him, shocking herself.

That had been her private dream, something she had mentioned to Finn only once or twice, something she hadn’t even told Bellamy about. And yet for some reason she was telling a complete stranger.

“Your own shop?” he repeated, making more notes. “You mean your own mechanic’s shop.”

“Yes,” she answered because he had taken the admission in stride, hadn’t looked surprised or wary of a woman owning her own place. Raven was beginning to wonder if anything phased him. “I was hoping once Finn, my husband, got a job we could start paying down some of the student loans so I’d be able to start my own place. It never happened.”

“How much does he make?”

“A lot.”

He nodded and made a note. “Do you have financial information?”

When she’d made the appointment she’d asked what she should bring and they’d basically said everything you’ve ever done during your marriage so she pulled out the manilla envelope from her massive purse and handed it to him. “Yes.”

“Prepared, I approve.” He took the package and leaned back to drop it on his desk, then leaned back in his chair to grab a business card. “And I’ll get started on the papers. What address would be the best place to serve him at?”

She knew the address of his apartment in DC, the one he’d shared with his girlfriend, but she didn’t know if he was still staying there. She wondered what he’d tell his colleagues about the divorce. If even told them about it at all. “Can you serve him at his job?”

He laughed so hard Raven was a little worried he was going to fall out of his chair. “Hell yes, I can. I think we’re going to get along just fine Mrs. Collins.”

“Reyes,” she corrected, knowing she was going to go back to maiden name the moment she could. “It’s Reyes.”

Murphy smiled like he understood, leaning forward with his hand out. “Nice to meet you, Raven Reyes.”

Murphy was walking through the bar on his way out when he spotted Raven sitting by herself at the one of the high tables. She was wearing a simple black dress and her hair was down, which he’d never seen before, and before he realized what he was doing he was walking towards  her. “Raven.”

She looked up, a bright smile covering her face when she recognized him, and immediately Raven got off the chair and reached out to hug him. “What are you doing out on a school night?”

The casual affection surprised him, set him a little off balance, but he’d made a career out of pretending to be unaffected. “Job offer,” he answered.

“Are you heading out? Do you want a drink?” she gestured to the chair next to hers and without thinking too closely about why, he sat. “What kind of job offer?”

Murphy grabbed a waitress and put in an order for a beer before turning back to Raven. Her hair was much longer than he’d realized, nearly touching her lap as she sat next to him. Combined with the glossy lips and hint of cleavage, she was drop dead gorgeous. “There’s a firm here in town who wants me to join up.”

“Are you going to accept the offer?”

He thanked the waitress when she dropped the glass and bottle at the table, but he drank straight from the bottle. “Nope. I like being my own boss, and I have a problem with authority, so I’d likely just get myself fired. But it was nice to be asked.”

She laughed and lifted her martini to her lips.

“Are you out celebrating?”

“First chance to toast the divorce,” she explained. “I was working my ass off last week and was too tired.”

Murphy looked around the bar. “Are you here with anyone?”

“Nope,” she popped the ‘p’ as she answered. “I don’t have a lot of friends anymore. Bellamy would have come out, but he hasn’t been able to get away from work.”

“That’s depressing, Reyes.”

She grinned, as she always did, when he called her by her maiden name. “I’m aware, but I have mozzarella sticks coming so it’ll be less depressing then.”

“Got any plans for your settlement money?”

He’d managed to get more than enough from the cheating son-of-a-bitch to set Raven up for years. Instead of Finn paying back the money Raven had spent while he’d been going to school, Murphy had convinced him to pay the attorney fees, and then a large lump sum which was big enough to make her ex blanche.

“I’m still thinking about the shop,” she admitted. “There’s a place not far from here, it’s a good spot, good space. Wouldn’t take much work to get it up and running.”

“What are you going to call it?”

“I don’t know, Reyes?” she shrugged. “There’s no reason to get fancy about it.”

The food came then and Raven pushed the plate between them. “I know you just had dinner, but have at these if you want.”

Murphy ate one and could feel Raven’s eyes on him the entire time. “I know I’m sexy, Reyes, but the staring isn’t exactly subtle.”

“Is our professional relationship over?”

It wasn’t the question he’d been expecting but he nodded. “Yeah. Finn’s in charge of paying me, and you’re officially divorced, so my part is done. Why?”

She bit her lip which was distracting. “I came here to pick up someone.”

Every rational thought he’d ever had, and granted there weren’t a lot to begin with, disappeared as she made the admission. “Oh.”

“Finn was the only person I’d ever been with,” she admitted, meeting his gaze. “And – I can stop oversharing.”

He absolutely did not want her to stop because he had a pretty good idea what was coming at the end of the conversation and he desperately wanted to get there. “We don’t have attorney-client privilege,” he managed to get out. “But if you’re about to tell me about your sex life, you can’t just leave me hanging like that.”

She smirked and took another drink from her glass. “Sex with Finn was okay, and I thought our relationship was good enough the rest didn’t matter.”

“But you’re starting to think it matters,” and if he was half hard already, no one would be able notice from where he was sitting.

Raven nodded. “At the vey least I want a palate cleanser.”

Murphy put his arms on the table and leaned forward, keeping his voice down so anyone walking by wouldn’t be able to hear him. “Raven, if this conversation isn’t going to end with you asking me to fuck you, please tell me now. I’d rather disappoint my dick sooner rather than later.”

She rubbed her lips together and nodded. “That’s where this was going, yeah.”

He reached into his back pocket and dropped way too much money on the table; he’d been a waiter while getting through school, he knew how much it sucked. “Your place or mine?”

“Yours,” she answered, sliding off the chair. “Are you good to drive?”

“I didn’t drink at dinner and didn’t finish the beer,” he assured her, putting his hand low on her back to guide her out of the restaurant. “Did you drive?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I wasn’t sure how much alcohol it was going to take to get up the nerve to hit on someone.”

He stopped walking and studied her. “You’re not drunk, are you?”

“Just the one drink, and it takes a hell of a lot more than that to get me drunk.”

Satisfied he walked with her to the parking lot and stopped at his car, unlocking it as soon as he was close enough. “This is me,” and since she was already opening her door he wasn’t going to push her out of the way just for chivalry points.

“Did you have anything in particular in mind?” he asked as he started the engine.

“In mind?” she asked he pulled onto the street.

“For the fucking,” he reminded her and blatantly put his hand so high up on her thigh the only thing keeping him from cupping her was the stretch of the dress across her lap. “I’d hate for you to be disappointed.”

Her gaze was staring at his hand, but he didn’t do anything more. He wasn’t sure if she was skittish or just nervous, but he didn’t want to push it. Not yet anyway.

“I don’t know.”

“Come on,” he encouraged. “You’ve got to have had some fantasies. I’ll go first, my favorite thing to get off to is fucking someone in my office.”

She turned to look at him, and he couldn’t tell because it was too dark in the car, but he was pretty sure she was turned on. Something about the air between them had changed, electrified. “Your office?”

“Yeah, someone comes to bring me lunch and it turns out she’s not wearing any underwear and just came over for a quickie on the desk.” He lowered his voice as they came to a stoplight, “You have to be quiet, you know? Because there’s other people around you don’t want to get caught.”

The streetlights let him see her swallow and nod. “I always wanted to get fucked from behind.”

He was immediately hard as stone but tried keep his voice casual as he drove towards his apartment. “Dickwad wouldn’t do it?”

“Once, but he said he didn’t like it.”

“It’s an ego thing,” Murphy scoffed, because he’d met the man who was dumb enough to lose Raven Reyes. “If you’re not looking at his pretty face than you might forget who’s inside you. But don’t worry, you won’t forget who’s fucking you. I talk a lot.”

“Dirty talk?”

“Filthy talk,” he corrected with a grin. “There’s a subtle, but important difference.”

Raven shifted on the seat, her hand moving his until it was just under the hem of her dress. A wave arousal hit him so hard he nearly groaned. “Give me an example.”

“Dirty talk is like ‘I’m going fuck you with my fingers until you’re desperate to come,’” he explained, his finger twitching against the bare skin of her thigh. “Filthy talk is more ‘I’m going to bury my fingers in your wet pussy until my hand is soaked and you’re begging to come and then you’re going to lick your arousal off me so you know how good you taste.”

She was breathing hard, her hips moving so slightly he wouldn’t know except for the hand he had on her. “You’re right, there’s a difference.”

“Are you wet, Reyes?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Raven was almost unbearably aroused by the time Murphy opened the door to his apartment. After he’d asked her if she was wet they’d spent the rest of the car ride in silence, but his hand has been an ever present weight on her thigh. It was a tease, a promise, and it would have been entirely to dangerous for him to finger him while he drove, but she’d nearly broken and asked him to touch her.

“Want anything to drink?” he asked as he tossed his keys in the general direction of his couch.

“No.”

He turned to face her, “Nervous?”

Raven thought about the question seriously and was surprised to find she wasn’t. “No.”

“Raven Reyes,” he grinned with a shake of his head. “You’re a badass.”

“Thank you.”

“When was the last time you had an orgasm?”

“Last week.”

He snorted. “When was the last time you had an orgasm that made your toes curl?”

“A while,” she admitted.

“The original plan was to bring you here, bend you over the kitchen table and immediately fuck you senseless.” She liked how calm and casual he was about all this, like they’d been planning on eating in but he’d changed his mind at the last minute. He put his hands in his pockets and watched her. “But I have a feeling you’ve got a hell of a lot of need bottled up inside that amazing body of yours.”

Raven shrugged. She’d been honest with him earlier when she’d said sex with Finn had always been fine, but the kind of wild and rough sex he was talking about was something they’d never come close to. She was beginning to suspect there was a deep well of desire in her she’d never even touched, but she’d bet her divorce money Murphy would be able to find the bottom.

“You’re probably right.”

“Come here,” and it should have sounded like an order but instead it reached her ears like a suggestion, a seduction, and Raven pictured herself as the fly being lured into a web. She moved towards him, but he didn’t kiss her like she’d been expecting, instead he ran his hands over every part of her body. Down her back, over her ass, the briefest caress over her breasts.

“I’m not going to lie, I pictured fucking you in my office.”

She was surprised. She’d always been weirdly attracted to him, like the high schooler in her recognized had a former bad boy, but she hadn’t been aware the attraction and been reciprocated. “You did?”

His hand slid up between her thighs. “A couple of times. After you came by to finalize everything I went home and pictured you on your knees, but that’s a pretty basic male fantasy.”

“Do you want me to-“ she started but he was already shaking his head.

“You’re here to get fucked, Reyes, that’s the priority.”

Murphy reached under her dress and pulled down her underwear and she was just a little irritated because those had been expensive and sexy and he hadn’t even seen her in them. Then his hand was between her legs again the irritation melted away.

“I can’t wait to see my cock sliding into your pussy,” he told her and while she’d never pictured herself as the type to enjoy filthy talk, Murphy was quickly bringing her over to his side of thinking. The images his words conjured were enough to make her squirm. “But I want to see what you look like when come.”

She felt a finger brush against her and Raven swayed on her heels. “Let me take my shoes off.”

He didn’t move his hand so as she shifted to kick off her heels the contact moved and changed in unexpected ways.

“You’re soaked, Reyes,” he murmured against her temple, the tip of his finger finding the slit of her folds and shifting so gently and slowly it barely counted as moving. “Is all this just for me, or would you get this wet for anyone?”

Raven reached up to hold onto his shoulders, not trusting her balance. “Just for you.”

As if rewarding her for the answer he increased the pressure of his finger, sliding through the slickness and circling her entrance but going nowhere near her clit which was now needy for him. “You’re going to come so quickly, aren’t you? You’re not even going to make me work for it.”

Desperate to get more contact Raven reached behind her and slid the zipper down so she could push the fabric down to her hips. His finger paused for just a moment as he looked her breasts, barely encased in a nearly see-through lace bra.

“Fuck,” he murmured as he reached up to roughly touch her. His hand covered her, kneading the flesh, pinching the nipple. “Take it off, I want to see you.”

“Give me a finger,” she negotiated.

His grin was quick and sharp, full of amusement and hunger. “Fair is fair.”

The intrusion was slow and welcomed, her inner muscles instinctively trying to clench around him. It wasn’t enough, but it was more than she’d had in months, so she unhooked the bra and dropped in on a nearby chair.

“I’ve been wondering for weeks what color your nipples are,” he told her, and now that there wasn’t anything separating his hand from her body, the contact was nearly electric. The nail of his thumb scraped against the hard bud, and while she didn’t understand his fascination, she enjoyed knowing he’d fantasized about her too. “You’re gorgeous.”

When she reached for his shirt he shook his head. “In order to this off I’d have to move my hand and I’m not doing that until you come. How many fingers can your pussy take?”

She didn’t think that was a question which actually required an answer so she simply reached beneath his shirt to press her palms against his back. His skin was impossibly hot beneath her touch.

Murphy leaned forward and took one of her nipples into his mouth the same instant his finger began to move inside her.

All train of thought was lost.

She moved against him, but her rhythm was erratic because he wasn’t matching his movements. He’d lick her nipple and then drive his finger deep into her, but never at the same time. It was a constant stream of stimulation with the background of his voice telling her all the things he wanted to do to her.

“That’s right, Reyes, fuck my hand.”

“Another finger,” she told him. “I need more.”

She’d barely finished the sentence before two fingers began to slightly stretch her. Since she’d found out about Finn cheating on her she’d taken solace with her vibrator, but the little thing was meant just for clitoris stimulation. It had been a while since anything, or anyone, had been insider her.

When he pulled out and then slid back in again she didn’t hold back the moan.

“Fuck, that was hot,” he muttered half a second before he kissed her.

The contact was a shock, which Raven realized was ridiculous because he was literally finger fucking her, a kiss should hardly feel more intimate. His lips were dry and insistent, his tongue a warm pressure against the seam of her mouth.

She opened for him, the sweep of his tongue a demanding thing and she responded in kind. It was a sexy, sloppy kiss, and Raven wondered how he managed to do so many things to her at once. His fingers drove her closer to orgasm even as his mouth plundered.

“Another one,” he asked against her mouth and she nodded.

Murphy tugged at her dress, pulling it up so the entire thing was above her hips. “I want to see it,” he told her, and his voice sounded as wrecked as she felt. “Let me hear you, Reyes.”

Raven could feel his fingers sliding out of her, her fingers gripping so tight on his shoulders she wondered if she might leave bruises behind. Then three of his fingers were pushing in her and she gasped at the feel of them.

“You good,” he asked, voice tight as he dragged his eyes away from her pussy to her face. She kissed him and then nodded.

“It’ll be better when it’s your cock.”

His eyes went blazing hot, his fingers filling her so quickly and roughly she nearly came right then. “Oh my, God.”

“You’re so close,” he encouraged. “Another night, I might drag it out, make you so needy you forget how to talk but I need to be pounding into before I come in my slacks. If you come, Reyes, we both get what we want.”

Raven nodded but she needed more, “My clit.”

He wrapped his arm around her waist to keep her upright. “Do it yourself, I want to watch you touch yourself while you get off on my fingers.”

She moved her own hand between them, her fingers brushing against his wrist. When she touched her clit her whole body jerked at the pressure, “Oh my god.”

“That’s it, don’t be gentle.”

His fingers continued to pump into her as she pressed against the hard nub of her arousal, and her orgasm was like a tsunami, crashing into her with almost nowhere.

“Fuck,” she yelled as her entire body went tight with the force of the climax.

Murphy’s hand shined from Raven’s arousal, and while he’d told her in the car she’d lick it off of him, he knew he didn’t have that kind of time. Desperate need clawed inside, so raw and primal it felt like drowning; he needed to be inside her or he’d die.

He pushed the dress off her body and turned her around to face the kitchen table. “Bend over,” he ordered, as if he had any control over what was happening. When she put her elbows on the wood, her ass stuck out and the only reason he didn’t come right then was because he wanted to be inside her.

Stubbornness had always been his strong suit.

“Don’t move, I’m getting a condom.”

“My bra,” she said, her voice cracked. “I had a condom in my bra.”

Looking down he found the foil pack on the ground near his feet and tore it open carefully. Not wanting to waste any time, he pulled his cock out of his pants and left the rest of his clothes intact. Once the condom was on, he used the slickness on his hand to lube it. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

It was the only word he needed to hear.

Murphy stepped up behind her, put one hand on her hip and used the other to guide his erection to her entrance. “I’m going to try and give you another orgasm,” he promised. “But I’m so fucking turned on I don’t know how long I’ll last.”

“It’s fine,” she assured him, her hips moving back.

He moved the hair from her back so he could kiss the place at the base of her neck. “Do you mind if I pull on your hair?”

Murphy waited while she thought about it. “If I change my mind?”

“Just say stop,” he assured her, trying to remain just a little bit sane with the tip of his cock between the folds of her vagina. “That’s goes for everything.”

She nodded again and he ran his fingers down her spine so he could grip her hips with both hands. “Rough, right?”

“Don’t hold back.”

Taking her at her word he took a deep breath and buried himself to the hilt in one thrust.

She let out a strangled cry and he was about to check in with her when she moved back, pressing her ass into his crotch. “I don’t think you have to worry about me not coming again,” she managed to get out between unsteady breaths. “I’m so fucking close already.”

He could feel the muscles surrounding his cock flutter.

“Do you feel that? Feel how deep I am in your pussy?” he asked, rotating his hips to go just a little deeper. “Fuck, you feel good around my cock. So hot and wet, your pretty ass just begging to spanked.”

“Do that, and I’ll cut off your dick.”

He laughed but took the warning seriously.

Murphy pulled back and slammed into her again, the gasp of shock and arousal from Raven enough to spur him on. He fucked her over and over, the speed so quick and desperate Raven stopped trying to meet his thrusts and just took it.

In the car he’d bragged about being a filthy talker, but nothing he said could be as erotic and raunchy as Raven bent over the kitchen table taking his cock like they’d been born to fuck just like this.

He shifted her hips, pulling them up a little so she nearly on her toes and this time when he drove into her, he found her g-spot. “Fuck, fuck. Do that again, Murphy, I’ve never felt anything like that.”

Murphy repeated the action and she nearly screamed; the kitchen table moved with the force of their joining, but Raven didn’t appear to notice as she asked, “Didn’t you say something about my hair?”

She was flat on stomach now, and he hoped she wasn’t getting burns on her skin from the friction. He wanted to give her dick, not be a dick.

“Decided you were into it, huh?” He wrapped the long strands of her hair around his fist as he teased her. Murphy pulled her hair just a little until her torso was off the table. “I should have fucked you in front of a mirror.”

“I didn’t even think of that,” she admitted.

“I’d get to see your tits while I fucked you, your face while you come. You’d see how fucking hot you are while I drive into you from behind.”

“Fuck, Murphy. I’m close.”

So was he. Honestly, he should get a fucking metal for not having completely blown his wad by now.

He reached below the table, finding her clit with his hand. The movement forced Raven’s head back, her hair still held in his fist, her back arched and he was truly regretting the lack of a mirror.

His fingers pressed against her clit where he kept his strokes short and rough as he pleasured her to edge.

“There,” she moaned. “Fucking shit, you’re good at this.”

“I was inspired,” he told her honestly. He almost pulled out completely out, timed it so when he thrust in all the way he was pinching her clit at the same time.

“Fuck!” she nearly screamed, her entire body shaking with the force of the orgasm.

She was clenched so tightly around him he could barely move inside her, but he didn’t need much more incentive to come. Raven’s tight pussy was pulsing around him and a few seconds later he exploded inside her.

The orgasm was the strongest one he’d ever experienced and felt never ending.

When he finally managed to catch his breath and come back to his body he released Raven’s hair and all but petted her. He ran his hands down her back, along her ribs and waist, trying to soothe them both after what felt like a near death experience.

“Still with me?” he asked when she didn’t move.

“Yes,” she answered and took a deep breath. “I think I stars with that last one.”

There was more than a little male ego in his smile, so he was glad she couldn’t see it. “I’m going to pull out now and take care of the condom. Bathroom’s down the hall on the left.”

As he tossed out the condom he grabbed a towel and cleaned himself up, keeping an eye on Raven as she walked towards the bathroom. When he was certain she wouldn’t fall over he poured them both a glass of water and had already down his by the time she came back out.

Still naked.

“I don’t have the ability to fuck you again right this moment, but damn does my body want to.”

Her smile was amused but he thought he saw a little bit of a blush on her cheeks. “Right back at you.”

Murphy walked to her and handed her the water while he moved around the room to pick up her clothes so she wouldn’t have to bend over and do it. Getting fucked like that was fine, but no one felt cool picking clothes up off the floor.

“Thanks.” She got dressed in front of him, so he didn’t feel particularly bad about enjoying the view. When she pulled on her dress and turned away from him he took the hint and reached for the zipper.

“Is this a one-time thing, Reyes?” he asked, letting go of the dress and taking a step back.

She pushed her hair back over her shoulder, turning to look him straight in the eye. “I don’t know,” she answered, but there was a twinkle in her eye and mischief at the corner of her mouth. “Maybe I’ll come by for lunch at your office one these days.”

With those words, Murphy was fairly certain he had actually died during that orgasm and was now in heaven.

“Yeah,” and in that moment John Murphy realized he was no longer unaffected. “That’d be cool.”

[shadow-assassin-blix]

It’s a Grey Area

Chapter 2:

A/N: ‘Italics’ are thoughts. Warnings? Swear word or two?? Skywalker bashing. OC’s not a fan. Its a bit sad? Talk of parents dying, if thats a warning??

Gif is from @gif-hunts-for-you​ bless you for your Jessica Lowndes gif sets

It took another 3 hours to finish sorting and doing the inventory, after which Blix sent Amber and Bre on home. There were not many patients in the Med Bay currently, so the night rounds would be quick. Blix was finishing up some paperwork, when she heard someone sigh quietly, near the door. She looked up to see who came in.

“Ben? Come in. What’s-“ Blix began to ask, before noticing the blood dripping from his arm. “Come here. Let me see.” She held out her hands.

He stepped forward and mumbled, “It’s not a big deal, it’s just annoying.”

“Uh huh. Let me be the judge of that,” She stated as she gently rolled up his sleeve. There was a large scrape running along his forearm, that was slowly bleeding and covered in dirt.

“How did this happen?” She asked as she examined it to see how deep it went.

“Luke. Training. He threw me into some trees,” He murmured.

She sighed deeply and began to disinfect it with some pads, before spraying it with Bacta. As she worked, she felt a prod in her mind. Like something was trying to break through her mental barriers.

“Ben, you are lurking without a permit. Get out of my head,” She lightly admonished not looking up at him.

“My apologies. Force of habit,” He replied.

“Mh. One that you need to get rid of. You want to get to know someone, try talking to them. Ask questions. That sort of thing. No one likes their minds being probed, and if you ever did that to Commander Dameron again, no one would stop him from beating your face in,” She remarked as she finally turned to look at him.

“Noted. There’s a lot of mystery surrounding you doctor. No one seems to know your background, nor do you seem to interact with anyone beyond your work. Why is that?” He questioned starring at her intensely, curiosity shining.

“I am not here to make friends. I am here to heal. That’s it. May I give you some advice though, in relation to this?” she gestured to his nearly healed arm. “Just because Luke is your uncle, and sort of your teacher, doesn’t mean you have to constantly take his beatings. I’ve seen your powers. You are strong. Don’t let him get away with this shit, just because you feel like you need to be punished for crimes that you have made amends for with your mother. Forgive yourself and take a damn stand. I didn’t take you for a coward nor do I see a child. An ass, maybe, but not a quitter.”

His face showed no emotion, though his eyes showed some surprise. His only response was to simply pull his arm from her grasp before walking out without another word.

Blix sighed as she cleaned up the mess and then made her way back to her room, her shift over for now. Her room was simplistic, a bed in the center of the room, a small kitchen to the right, refresher, and closet to the left. She had a small desk to work at; books, journals, and scrolls lying everywhere.

She quietly showered and changed into some sweats and a shirt. She thought about making herself something to eat but didn’t have the energy to do so. She laid in bed, starring at the ceiling, wondering to herself, ‘Why did I agree to come here? What exactly is my purpose?’

She thought she knew when she went to med school. Help people, no matter who they are or where they come from and heal them. Now, that purpose, while still important, was fading slowly; an emptiness began to fill her chest and mind. A hole that she pondered over late into the hours, which usually only led to her sleeping for a spell.

She’s not quite sure when she fell asleep, she just knows when she woke up it was about 6am and someone was knocking on her door. She stands up, exhausted to the core, but growing annoyed with constant knocking.

“I’m coming!” She yelled as she walked/wobbled over to the door.

She flings it open to see an officer standing there. “Yes? What is it?”

“The General requests to see you in the Command Center, Dr. Blix,” He informed. “I am to escort you once you are dressed.”

“Joy. Give me like 5 minutes,” Blix replied sarcastically. She closed the door and turned around to go get some get some clothes on. She pulled on some black cargo pants, and a green shirt followed by a long grey cardigan. She threw on some socks and her boots and grabbed her keycard on her way out.

She reopened the door and stepped out with a sigh. The officer then proceeded to lead her to the command center, never once saying another word to her.

As she stepped up to the center, she saw General Organa, Luke stood off to the side with Rey & Ben, and Poe nearby with Finn & Chewy. She heard a small beep and felt a bump to her leg. She looked down to see a familiar orange and white droid who began to beep happily at her attention.

“Hello Beebee. I’m good, how are you?” She quietly asked him, as she gave his head a pat, a small smile on her face. He began to beep his response when a voice cleared their throat loudly stopping it. Her smile froze and quickly disappeared as she straightened up and gave her attention to Leia.  

“I am sorry to have awaken you so early doctor, but it has come to my attention that you have never been on a field mission before. Which I found strange when I first heard of it and had to confirm it myself. That changes today,” Leia informed her.

“Come to your attention, you say?” She repeated as she turned her head slowly to Poe, anger and betrayal laced her features, as she glared at him. He had the decency to flinch and look away, as he shuffled behind Finn to avoid her gaze.

“Listen. General. I am a doctor. Not a soldier, a fighter, or a pilot. I am a doctor; I belong in the med bay not out galivanting across the universe. So, you can take whatever mission you are about to shove into my arms, elsewhere. I am not doing it,” She declared and turned away, intending to leave.

“Blix,” Came Admiral Holdo’s voice.

She growled and turned around swiftly, and angrily answered, “Yes Amilyn? What? Let me guess. You once again want to bring up how ‘my parents wouldn’t have approved of my behaviors.’ How if they were alive, they ‘would have been disappointed with how I am reacting’ and that I ‘need to respect my superiors, especially one as admired as her?’ Right?”

Before Holdo could even answer, Blix continued, “Newsflash. They are dead. My father died long before I was even born, on a planet that was blown to smithereens by the Deathstar. My mother died long before I even turned 10.”

Many in the room shifted uncomfortably at this information and Leia stepped forward cautiously, and interjected, “I understand that you have lost a lot in this war, but so have others. I empathize with your pain, I sincerely do. Everyone else understands that the only way to find peace is to fight for it. They fight because they have hope in a better future. They-“

“Save the speech. I am sure it’s quite inspiring to everyone else, but I was raised to be a politician just like you Princess,” Blix interrupted, emphasizing Leia’s previous title through gritted teeth. “I know when I am being fed a line. ‘Rebellions were built on hope?’ You mean rebellions were built on the blood spilt and the dead bodies of the hundreds of thousands of people that died because of YOUR family.”

There were many gasps heard but Blix no longer cared.

“You tell me you understand but, how could you? When your family is the reason why I, hell, why half the galaxy doesn’t exist anymore! Your father reigned terror and death for decades, and you expect me to just, what? Forgive and forget what he took from me? Or forget that it was your idiot brother who tried to attack and kill your son. The son that then turned to the dark side and helped the First Order come to fruition. You and your family are a plague,” She snarled, before turning and exiting the room.

She stormed out of the base and could feel herself lose control. Her mind was raced, adrenaline surged through her as rage continue to bubble in her chest. She took a shaky breath trying to regain control over herself. Her hands shook as a tingling sensation worked through her fingers. Her teeth gritted, and gnawed on her lip as she tried to desperately calm down

She made her way out to the surrounding forest, and eventually found the familiar winding path that she had created in her time here. She followed it for several minutes before it opened out to a small field of flowers. She began to pace frantically up and down, but the rage refused to die down. Taking deeps breaths didn’t work. She couldn’t concentrate long enough to count.

There was only one thing she could do. She turned to a large boulder and raised her hand out to it. She felt a surge of energy as the Force surrounded her and as she clenched her hand closed, the boulder exploded into many pieces.

The energy released left her slightly drained. She was breathing heavy as she stood there. She collapsed to her knees; head bowed, exhausted. Her vision swam a bit and she could feel tears build up.

“Now, what exactly did that boulder do to you?” a warm voice asked.

Blix jerked her head into the direction of the voice, “Grandfather?”

A pale, ghostly blue figure, a Force Ghost, stood there in her small sanctuary. He moved to sit before her and gave her a soft smile.

“What are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you, but you don’t often appear before me,” she quietly inquired.

“Your rage could be felt even amongst the dead. My dear heart, why are you doing this to yourself?” He gently questioned.

“Not quite sure I know what you mean,” Blix replied, not making eye contact with him.

“Don’t play coy. You know what I mean. You have been holding a part of yourself back for years. You have built this wall to hide who you really are. Your soul is tearing itself apart as you deny your destiny,” He chastised.

“Destiny? What destiny? My destiny to wind up dead for being within the same star system as a Skywalker?” Blix scoffed, her eyes rolling.

With a small sigh, he reached out and flicked her on the nose. She blinked rapidly and slowly reached up to cover her nose as it lightly throbbed with pain. ‘Ow.’

“Enough of that. You were destined to be a Jedi. Your powers cannot be held back anymore. There will come a time when you will have to use them, and those walls will come crashing down. Stop fighting who you are meant to be. Your soul and mind are at war with one another. That void you keep feeling? The restless nights? That is your power trying to break free. It is only going to get worse unless you start accepting it.” He urged her, trying to get her to see reason.

“I just..” She struggled to articulate her feelings. There was so much she wanted to say to the man she only knew from his journals and had only seen in her dreams. Tears formed again and fell down her cheeks. She hastily wiped them away not wanting him to see.

“I know. Time was cruelly stolen from us. There are many things I wish I could have taught you personally, but you have done so well on your own. You were destined for greatness. Are you going to continue to fade away in obscurity or are you going to be the Jedi you were meant to be?” He questioned, pressing a kiss to her forehead before fading away.

Blix sighed heavily. She sat there for an hour maybe two, mulling things over in mind, before she got up. The rage had died down and the world slowly came back into focus, and the sounds of the forest grounded her. All that could be heard was the wind rustling leaves, birds chirping. Off in the distance, she could hear the flight deck come to life as pilots fired up their ships for takeoff or engineers began their work.

She made her way back out of the forest, and over to the flight decks. She could see Poe and Chewie were getting the Falcon ready. She took a deep breath, and as much as she didn’t want to, she swallowed her pride and move toward them.

She stood before them, cleared her throat, and inquired, “Ahem. So. What’s this mission about?”

Poe, upon hearing her voice, stopped in his tracks, and looked at her stunned. After a moment, a smile broke out on his face. “Get on board, and I’ll tell ya on the way, gorgeous.”

She smiled back softly and greeted Chewie as she walked up the ramp, the two of them following behind a moment later. Chewie walked into the cockpit to get the ship fired up, as Poe stood next to her. She bit her lip as she tried to figure out what to say to him. Should she explain? Should she apologize?

Poe stopped her train of thoughts when he reached out and grabbed hold of her hand. She tried to focus on what he was telling her and not on how warm his hand felt, or the small callouses that gently soothed over her own hand. ‘Such different lives we’ve lived.’ She thought.

“We are going to meet up with a possible informant who may have intel on the First Orders next plan of action,” he quickly informed. “You and I are going to pretend to be a couple while there so as not to raise suspicion. Simple mission. Very easy. I promise nothing will happen.”

She nodded her head, and as she stared at him, she knew he wanted to remark on what happened earlier. He sighed and looked down for a second and rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand. He eventually looked up and gazed into her eyes.

“Listen, I’m not going to ask you about the stuff you said this morning, unless you feel comfortable about it. I do want to say. I am sorry for going behind your back and requesting you for this mission, without talking to you first. That was a dick move, and I hope you can forgive me,” He apologized.

She bit her lip for a moment, and with a nod replied, “Apology is noted. Acceptance is pending.”

He pouted for a second, before it switched to a smirk and he stepped closer to say something else, but Chewie roared that the Falcon was ready to go and that they needed to leave soon.

“To be continued?” she offered with a small smile.

His smile was the only answer she needed, and they headed toward the cockpit. Poe sat in the co-pilot seat, she in the seat behind him, and seconds later they were off.

It took about an hour to get to Cantonica, headed toward a town a few miles outside of Canto Bight. As soon as we landed, Poe stood up and said, “Come with me.”

She followed him over to one of the sitting areas. Blix took off her cardigan and threw it on the table to cool down a bit, as he opened a draw and withdrew a spare blaster. He turned to her and held it out for her to take.

“Um. What’s this for?” Blix hesitantly asked, stepping back a bit.

“For you. For your own protection,” He answered still holding it out to her.

“I.. I’ve never used a blaster before Poe. I..I’m not sure this is a good idea,” She admitted, shaking her head and rubbing her arm anxiously.

Poe smiled softly, “It is only for emergencies. In case we get separated. I just want to be sure that you are armed in the off chance that we run into trouble. Just point and shoot. I don’t suspect trouble, but I would rather be assured that you are safe and armed.”

He turned back to the drawer and pulled out a belt with a holster attached to it. He placed the blaster into the holster before he turned back around to her. “May I?” he politely asked gesturing to her.

Blix shifted for a moment, still not quite sure of this but she knew that there was a possibility that it could go wrong. She nodded and held her breath as Poe stepped forward, leaning over her slightly as he wrapped the belt around her. He quickly secured it to her asking, “Is this too tight?”

“No, its fine,” She responded. “Tell me, does it clash with my outfit?”

He huffed out a laugh at her question and stepped back to fully examine her. “Looks perfect on you. Shall we get going?” He asked as he grabbed his own blaster.

As they stepped onto the ramp leading out, the heat of the planet hitting them immediately, Poe stopped and turned to her slightly.

“Also. Out here, you follow my lead. This isn’t the med bay, and I am your commanding officer. Got it?” He firmly demanded.

The sudden shift in personality caused Blix to blink in surprise, because suddenly he wasn’t Poe Dameron, flirty flyboy. He had switched to Commander Dameron, respected officer of the Rebellion. She felt the need to tease him a bit, “Got it… Commander.”

They moved forward and began to make their way to the meet, a shady cantina. Blix slowly moved closer to Poe and muttered, “Put your arm around me, we’re meant to be a couple, yeah?”

He casually wrapped his arm her shoulders and she tucked herself into his side, arm wrapped around him, her thumb hooked into one of his belt loops, to rest.

After a few minutes they arrived at the cantina and were making their way to an empty table. As they took a seat side by side, Poe informed her that they were looking for human, who goes by the name Crixus. They had arrived early, and ordered drinks to not raise suspicion, sipping at them lightly.

A moment of silence had passed when Poe commented without looking at her, “So an orphan eh? Didn’t really see that one coming.”

She chuckled, somewhat bitterly. “Yeah. My mother was an ambassador who made a lot of enemies really quickly. She uh.. was killed by a bounty hunter. I wasn’t there, I was…elsewhere. I was about to turn eight. My mother never really spoke much about my father, all I know is he died on Scarif. I haven’t had the stomach to look her stuff and find out more,” She explained, finding a spot on the table, suddenly fascinating.

“Scarif? Like. Rogue One? He was a part of that? Wow!” He said amazed before adding, solemnly “I lost my mother when I was eight. Dad’s still around but I haven’t really seen him much since I joined the cause. I keep her close to my heart though.” He tugged at the chain of the necklace he wore.

“That ring is your mother’s? I always wondered but I never felt right asking about it,” She admitted, looking at him, as she bit her lip.

“Yeah. I plan to one day give it to the girl I want to marry,” Poe revealed. “I have a fairly good idea who I want to marry eventually. I just can’t seem to figure out if she feels the same way about me.”

She looked away, not really wanting to hear him describe who it is he clearly had feelings for and went with a simple, “Oh?”

“Yeah. She’s stubborn, and beautiful. Keeps refusing my dates and cites regulation at me. Though last time she didn’t do that, and it gave me hope that she is interested.” He continued offhandedly.

A smile slowly appears on her face, alongside a blush that she tried to hide. He gently cupped her face and turned her to look him in the eyes. “I’m going to guess by that pretty smile and lovely blush I see that that’s a yes?”

Before she could answer, someone loudly sat down across from them. They pulled away from each other and looked to see a human male, with dirty blonde hair, and multiple scars running along his face sitting there.

“Crixus?” Poe asked to confirm his identity.

He nodded and as they began to speak, Blix couldn’t help but to feel a nagging sensation inside her head. Something was off, something was wrong. As she examined the man before them, she slowly heard it. It was faint, and she had to focus to fully hear it. It was a beeping noise. A rapid beeping. Like that of a-

“Poe,” She interrupted. “Stop talking to him. Who sent you?”

“I don’t know what yer talkin ‘bout lady. No one sent me,” Crixus denied.

“Oh really?” She pondered mockingly, before she made her move.

She reached over, grabbed his head with both of her hands and slammed it down onto the table, hard. He was knocked unconscious, and she pushed at Poe to get out of the seat, urgently.

“Wh-what the hell was that? He was about to give us valuable information!” He protested as they both stood up and she leaned over Crixus.

She reached around into Crixus’ pockets and after a moment, she found it. A fob.

“He’s a bounty hunter, and we’re the bounty. We have to go now!” She exclaimed, as she dropped the fob on the ground and stomped on it to break it.

Poe grabbed her hand, and they made their way out of the cantina. They went a different route back to the Falcon. It led them down a path to an open market area, that quickly filled with stormtroopers, who recognized them immediately, and began to fire upon them.

Poe shoved into her an alleyway and he took to the opposite side, occasionally taking shots at the troopers.

“’A simple mission’ you said. ‘An easy mission’ you said. ‘Shouldn’t run into any trouble,’” She yelled over at him.

“I know! I’ll make it up to you!” He promised as he took a few more shots.

They were quickly being outnumbered. Poe was a good shot, but more and more were appearing. Her thoughts ran rampant, as she tried to figure out how to get them out of this. A plan that would get them to safety. A gust of wind blew, carrying a whisper, “You know what to do.”

‘Really hitting this on the nose, eh gramps?’

She straightened up, closed her eyes trying to focus and muttered to herself once, “I am one with the Force, the Force is with me.”

When she reopened them, she could feel the Force surrounding her, the energy crackling. She stepped out and walked toward the open market; ignoring Poe’s attempts to gain her attention.

As she stepped out, multiple troopers fired their blasters at the same time. She raised her hands, in front of her face, stopping them midair. They hovered for a mere moment before she threw her arms forward, sending the shots backwards into the troopers. As they fell, she threw her right hand out to her left, and then to her right, knocking those troopers back into walls and various objects.

The coast was clear, for now. She leaned forward, her hands on her knees, exhausted. Her energy drained, and she felt a bit lightheaded. Poe, at some point, walked up next to her and stared at her in awe.

She stood up, ignoring how tired she felt, and said, “C’mon. The Falcon isn’t far, and I don’t want to wait for more to appear, or for these guys to wake up.”

She began to walk away but she only got a few feet before she realized Poe wasn’t following. He was still standing there, gaping.

“You’re… you’re a Jedi?” He wondered.

“I don’t know what you are talking about. Let’s go,” she said turning back around, striding away.

Poe ran to catch up to her, and inquired, “You’re really just going to ignore my question? Blix? C’mon, you gotta explain that to me?”

They were finally getting near the launchpad that held the falcon, but stormtroopers were marching their way. They stopped short, and Blix uttered a small, “Fuck.”

He looked at her, then pushed her to a nearby wall. “Kiss me.”

“What?” She spluttered.

“Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable. So. Kiss. Me.” Poe demanded through gritted teeth, as the troopers got closer to them.

She quickly leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. Blix wrapped her arms around his neck, as his found her waist, before pulling her closer. She couldn’t deny the butterflies that had built in her stomach and were fluttering chaotically. He made her feel warm and safe within his embrace.

The stormtroopers passed but they failed to notice it, far too wrapped up into each other for the moment. It wasn’t until they pulled apart, gasping for breath, that they realized they were free to move on.

She pulled away from him so they could finally begin their hasty walk to the Falcon. As they rushed back on, Poe yelled for Chewie to get on the gunners, as the ramp closed.

Poe has her follow him into cockpit and shoved her over to the co-pilot seat. He pointed out which switches and buttons to hit to fire the ship up as they heard the familiar roar of TIE-Fighters entering the atmosphere. They took off but the path had a squadron of TIEs coming straight for them.

Poe dodged them left and right, trying to help Chewie line up shots to take them out. Several went down quickly but there was still a couple on their tail. They were flying out over canyons, and Blix vaguely recognized the area, and a terrible idea came to mind.

“Poe. I have an idea but it’s a little crazy,” she hesitantly informed.

“I have been told my middle name is crazy, so let’s hear it doll. Preferably before we are shot out of the sky,” He grunted as they were hit.

“See that crevice there? Dive into it.” She commanded pointing to a crevice that was coming up to them on their left.

He followed her directions, straight into a crevice that was only just barely wide enough for the falcon to fit through. They heard a couple of crashing noises from above, but they still had one TIE on them.

The narrow canyon, had them dodging rock formations left and right, and he yelled at her, “My trust in you is waning a bit, what the hell does this open up to?” As the falcon scraped several times along the wall.

“You’ll see. Go for that large opening,” She replied with a wince, pointing slightly to their right.

He does and as they breakthrough they enter an underground city of sorts, full of bright lights and towers everywhere. There was only one path, that she confirmed he needed to follow. The path was somewhat narrow but allowed enough space to dodge hits.

“Blix. Please do not tell me we need to go down that,” He asked worried, as he looked ahead.

“That” was a dark tunnel, that was named the Tunnel of Death (and labeled on the wall in bright lights), that they were swiftly coming upon.

“Yep. Just.. listen to me when I tell you to start pulling up, because it’s a straight drop, that suddenly curves,” Blix advised with a grimace. “Chewie! Buckle up, this is going to be rough!” She yelled toward the back, as she too buckled in, Poe following.

As they dropped down into the hole, they are plunged into absolute darkness. Blix was quietly counting to herself how long it had been since they began their descent. ‘1, 2,3, 4, 5,6.’

“Poe. Start Pulling up,” She told him as her mental countdown got to 7 seconds

He does so, and as they continued to straighten back out; they hear a final crash as the TIE flew directly into the ground. They soon saw cracks of light as they made their way to the exit, and finally flew back out into the open air. They flew until they had left Cantonica’s atmosphere, before jumping into hyperspace.

Once we were safe in hyperspace, Poe turned to her questions written on his face.

She smiled sheepishly, as she rubbed the back of her neck. “So. Did I ever tell you I was a bit of a wild child?”

He threw his head back and laughed, which caused her to laugh as well. As he sobered up, he replied, “No. Failed to mention that tidbit. What was that and how the hell do you know about it?”

“It’s an old pod racetrack. The entrance is back in the middle of Canto Bight, but I heard that there were secret entrances in the canyons. So, I was kinda going off my memory, hence why I said it was little crazy.” Blix confessed with a smile. “My mother used to tell me that while I looked like her, I had my father’s personality. His tendency to be super serious with a side of devil-may-care. I fell in love with podracing when I was like 4? And my best friend’s father was a mechanic, so we built a podracer. My first race I came in second place.”

Poe shook his head in amazement. “You are a mystery wrapped in an enigma,” He began and with sudden realization continued, “That’s. That’s where you were, when your mom died, isnt it? The “elsewhere?””

She nodded her head, with a sad sigh. “She uh.. wasn’t thrilled by new hobby, but she supported it. Said if I’m going to lose, do so spectacularly, and win as often as possible. I was in Kergans, it was a huge race. 19 other competitors, a huge purse as the prize. I was one of the last 5 pods to survive in total, the regular champ was an asshole who liked to cheat and play dirty. He got his comeuppance, when I knock him into a wall, and he lost an engine. My victory lap when I crossed the finish in first was cut short when I was informed that she had been killed on her way to watch me. Never raced again after that,” Blix divulged, leaning back into her chair, staring at the ceiling.

“Then Holdo’s family took you in?” Poe connected.

“Yep. Amilyn was alright living with. Her mother…not so much,” Blix trailed off.

“What? What was she like? Though, knowing the admiral I assume she was not great,” He admitted with a frown.

Blix sighed heavily, “Maureen. She uh. Didn’t care for frivolity. She made sure that I became a ‘proper young lady.’ She practically beat into my head that love was a fairytale and happy endings were not real. Marriages were meant to move power around and change alliances. Dating was not in the cards. Only courting with potential suitors.”

She rolled her eyes heavily at the memories of Maureen scolding her.

“Which.. is why I have been difficult every time you ask me out. I just.. I was conditioned to not accept potential romantic dalliances. I. She. Its difficult for me to get over that. I am trying to move past it, just.. be patient with me please?” she quietly pleaded struggling to explain, as she looked over at him.

He smiled softly. “I’ll wait however long you need me to,” he promised.

“I am sorry if I often seem cold or detached as well. I’m not trying to act bitchy or hoity toity. I just grew up with a hard woman who believed in all things rational and refused to acknowledge anything that suggested emotion,” She apologized her shoulders dropping.

His reply was immediate, “Apology is noted. Acceptance pending.”

She shook her head with chuckle, as he referred to their earlier conversation.

“So… that’s explained. You going to tell me about the Jedi thing?” He queried an eyebrow raised.

“I still have no idea what you are talking about,“ Blix replied standing up. ‘That is not a conversation I want to have with anyone honestly.’

He sighed annoyed at her dismissal of his question again and goes for instead “Okay. Then how about the kiss?”

“What about it?” Blix asked as she got to the doorway of the cockpit.

“What did you think about it?” Poe clarified turning his chair to follow her movements.

She thought about it for a moment, jokingly humming in contemplation, before she responded, “It was good.”

“Good? Just good? What do you mean by that!?” He spluttered not expecting that response.

“Yeah. Good. I’m sure the next one will be better,” She hinted with a smile as she skipped out.

Chewie made his way inside, and Poe hears her apologize for the bumpy ride she led them on. He responded in kind, gently roaring that it was okay.

As Chewie took his seat in the copilot, Poe stared out into the hallway for a moment longer, still processing what just happened.

“Next time?” he whispered. He nods his head several times before he turned back around to face the front. “I’m going to marry that woman. I’m going to marry her, she will tell me all her secrets, and I will die a happy man. It’s going to happen. Yeah.” He muttered to himself as he focused on the controls.

As they dropped out of hyperspace, they informed base that they were about to land. The moment the Falcon was on the ground, Blix made her way off. Poe followed after her, sensing she was going to try and make a quick getaway.

“Hey- wait a minute!” He called out grabbing her arm, stopping her. “Seriously though. You can use the Force? Why are you trying to hide this?”

“Poe. Stop. We are not talking about this,” Blix scolded glancing around, hoping no one heard him.

She pulled her arm away and walked away from him. Poe was determined though- he was going to get her to talk to him. He chased after once more and grabbed her hand again.

“I just- I don’t understand! You have this power and you’re not using it!?” He beseeched looking her in the eyes, searching for an answer.

Blix huffed and held her hand to up to his face and gently waved it, as she commanded softly, “You did not see anything.”

He stared blankly at her and repeated, “I did not se- Wait!” He blinked and shook his head violently. “Did you just… try to Jedi mind wipe???” He asked confused but excited.

Blix groaned loudly and clenched her fist at her failed attempt to use the Mind Trick, swearing softly as she turned and tried to once again walk away.

He ran after her and as he reached out to grab her arm once more, she turned to him suddenly and angrily growled out, “Poe. If you grab at me one more time, I will hurt you.”

“Oh? You going to use the Force and push me away?” He teased and held his arms out, waiting.

“No. I’ll just do this,” She stated seconds before she threw a punch out, hitting him in the stomach.

He leaned over and grabbed at his stomach as the pain (and shock) swept through him. She then dropped down and swung her leg out to sweep his legs out from under him. As he landed on the ground, she stood back up, dusted herself off, and headed to her room. She locked herself into her room and stayed there for the rest of the day, collapsed onto her bed, and passing out as the day’s event hit her.

As Poe laid on the ground, gasping for air, and trying to blink away the pain, Finn slowly moved over to him. Finn squatted down and asked, “Do I want to know what that was about?”

Poe propped himself up onto his elbows and looked at Poe with a dazed smile, and commented, “Finn. I’ve met my future wife.”

“Your future wife just knocked you on your ass. How do you feel about that?” Finn teased as he held his hand out for Poe to take to help him back up.

“Strangely alright,” Poe replied with a smirk, as he took Finn’s hand and got up with his help.

Rey stepped forward as well, confusion written on her face. “I’ll tell ya later. In private. I have to go to the mission brief. We’ll meet up at my place for dinner, it’s a doozy. Hell, I’m still wrappin my head around it,” Poe requested as he looked at them both.

His thoughts were scrambled, ‘Orphan. Podracer. Jedi. Podracer. Jedi. She likes me back but isn’t used to affection. Jedi. The kiss. Jedi.’ As he gave the mention brief, he left out her powers and the kiss, and told Leia that she did well under pressure, and if weren’t for her recognizing the sound of the fob, they would probably be dead. Though that did beg the question.

“Why was a bounty hunter sent after us? Very few people knew about this mission, and it was only planned a day ago. So why were they after us?” Poe inquired lowly to Leia, so no one else could hear.

“Those are very good questions Commander. Questions that need to be answered. Fast. Figure it out Commander,” Leia ordered quietly.

Poe nodded his head in affirmation and began to review who all knew about this mission, retracing his steps since this mission came to them. It was going to be a long night for the Commander.

[sherrybaby14]

The Option VIII

Summary:  Spring is in the air and you are looking toward the future, while Bucky’s not ready to give up on the present.  

Warnings: Little bit of smut, darkness (but not of the sexual variety), angst, paranoia, stupid decisions on both parties

Words: 5000

               The nip of frost in the air was fading and the sun was strong enough Bucky almost took off his jacket.  Spring was around the corner.  That fact strained Bucky’s heart.  This had been the best winter of his life.  He never wanted it to end.  

               “What will happen to the animals when we leave?” Peach looked up from feeding the chickens.  “Who will take care of them?”  

                 “One thing to worry about at a time.”  Bucky knew this conversation, she always started with a harmless question and snowballed into the larger one. With the change in weather, he was going to have to come up with a solution.  

                 “Have you gave any more thought to America?” There was the first stab at it.  

                 At least she didn’t lead with the question about her uncle.  Bucky didn’t want to have this conversation.  There was no chance it would end in anything but tears for her, but it was time.  

                 “I don’t think that’s on the table Peach.” He put down the ax and walked over to her.  “The people who are after you, any use of your name will trigger them.  They’ll collect you.  Even if it means crossing the ocean.  Hiding is our best option.”  

                 “What if we contact the press? Politicians? Bring light to the problem?”  To most, she sounded confident, but Bucky saw through the façade. He imagined she’d been having this conversation in her head for some time.  

                 “No guarantee that they will listen, or that they haven’t already been paid off.”  Bucky walked up to her and pulled her into a hug.  “Trust me Peach, there’s no going home after this.”  

                 “We don’t know for sure he was in on it.” Peach spoke with hesitation.  

                 Bucky had to stifle back the grunt of disappointment, not wanting to rehash the uncle argument again.  

                 “I am the only person in the world who can help you. Who you can trust.”  He rubbed his hand up and down her back.  “I have your best interests at heart.”  

                 “I can’t stay here forever.”  She didn’t hide the quiver in her voice.  

               Bucky squeezed her tighter, knowing she was on the verge of tears.  He didn’t like the singular.  

                 “We won’t.”  The snow at their feet was two inches deep, at the most, some patches of dead grass were even showing.  “I’ll figure something out.  Soon.”

~~

               After dinner Bucky took your hand and walked you to the stairs.  You yawned as you headed up, both of you spent most of the day outside and the first few bouts of fresh air always made you tired.  

                 “It’s not bedtime just yet Peach.”  Bucky chuckled.  

                 You squeezed his hand, glad he was up for some bedroom activities.  You’d only had sex once the entire day and it was when you woke up.  The constant orgasms gave you a distraction, but days like today allowed the thoughts you wanted buried to surface.  

                 I am the only person in the world who can help you.  You didn’t have a passport or any money or knew where you were really. You were one hundred percent dependent on him.  That wasn’t right, it wasn’t natural.  It made you feel like property, helpless.   A shiver went down your spine.  

                 You chastised yourself for thinking these things. Bucky cherished you, worshiped you. It wasn’t his fault you got caught up in this web.  

                 But then again, you thought contacting the press was a good idea.  They would hail him a hero for saving you.   His point about not knowing if it would work made you sink.  Was he right?  How many articles have you read about human trafficking?  Not a lot.  In fact, you didn’t know a single survivor by name, and you couldn’t be the only one to get away.  

                 Then there was the matter of your uncle’s involvement.  How deep in was he?  You figured once you got out of the country and back to the internet you would find the proof you needed.  Did he host a press conference looking for you?  Did he call the consulate?  There would be some record if he cared.  

                 “What’s bothering you Peach?”  Bucky walked into your bedroom and turned around, sitting on the bed and pulling you into his lap.  

                 “Nothing.”  You didn’t want to worry him or say the wrong thing again.  

                 He never did a good job hiding his disappointment and that almost hurt as much as the reality of what these thoughts meant. Bucky liked it.  He liked being in control, he liked owning you.  It didn’t matter that he hadn’t purchased you, you were his and completely at his mercy.  

                 No.  He would never hurt you.  He loved you.

                 “I love you.”  You said the phrase out loud, unclear on whether or not you were telling him or reassuring yourself.

                 Bucky beamed at you. That prideful look warmed you to your core.  You draped your hands around his neck when he went in for a kiss.   This was real.  He was real. Nobody kissed anyone this way if there wasn’t true love behind it.  The way his hand went to the back of your head and his lips were soft and demanding at the same time.  

                 The excitement and want in you was instantaneous. His hands found the bottom of your shirt and you stood up, breaking the kiss as short as possible while you both peeled off your clothing.  

                 When you were nude he sat back down, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulled you forward.  You knew what he wanted and as you straddled him you gripped the base of his cock, lining it up with your pussy so you could impale yourself. Even when you were on top it was his choice.  

                 Before you could begin the descent he grabbed you harder and pulled his lips away, pressing your foreheads together.  

                 “Say it again.”  He gulped. “Please say it again.”  

                 “I love you.” There was no hesitation.  You meant it.  You loved him. “I’ll always love you.”  

                 He let out a grunt of approval and pulled you down. You let go of his cock and brought your hands to his shoulders as you quaked with the fullness you’d craved all day.

                 “I love you.” His eyes bore into yours, even in the darkness of the room you could still make out the blue.  “Forever.”  

                 The intensity sent a chill through your body and excited you further.  You rocked your hips while he lifted you up and down, bouncing on him and bringing your sensitive spot to life.  

                 “Mmmmm.”  You let out a moan when he pulled you all the way down, his cockhead poking at your cervix.

                 You started rocking faster, the still position allowing your clit to rub against his pelvis.  This was unexpected, a rarity where you were going to control your own release.  You picked up speed, bucking against him.  

                 The spring tightened in your stomach and the pleasure was imminent.  You broke this kiss and rested your head on his shoulder, moving even faster.  The orgasm hit you with full force and you did not hold back the moans as you collapsed further onto him.  

                 “What a good girl I have.”  Bucky put an arm on the bed and one on your back as he spun you. “My good girl.”  

                 You wanted that.  To be his good girl.  To be his. Your brain couldn’t focus on any other thought as he railed into you.  His pumps bringing forward yet another wave of pleasure.  He was fucking away all the bad thoughts.  All the problems.  Nothing else mattered as long as the two of you were together.  

                 By the time Bucky finished you were in a state of pure Euphoria.  You were laying on your stomach while he was on his side, his fingers lazily running up and down your spine.  Sleep was seconds away and you welcomed the change in reality.  

                 “Peach.” Bucky kissed your back.  “I’ll figure it out.  I promise.  I won’t keep you here forever.”  

                 In the back of your head you knew it was stupid, and you wished you could blame the sex messing with your judgment, but the question that had been gnawing at you for some time escaped your lips.  

                 “If I wanted to leave, would you let me?”  It was a nicer way of asking if you were a prisoner, but when Bucky’s hand stopped and his head left your back you knew he got the gist.  

                 “Do you?”  He shifted behind you.  “Want to leave me?”  

                 “No.” That was the truth too.  You didn’t think you would ever find someone like him and weren’t sure how you’d gotten this lucky.  

                 “Then what does it matter?”  His arm covered your back and he laid down next to you.  

                 Bucky’s answer was logical, but for some reason, it didn’t bring you the comfort you were looking for.  Your eyes popped wide open and sleep slipped away.  Instead, you starred out in the darkness and tried to keep the thoughts you couldn’t handle at bay.  He loves you.  You love him. He loves you. You love him. He loves you.

~~

               For the first time since Peach came into his life Bucky was terrified to fall asleep.  He hadn’t had a nightmare since she was next to him, but he knew if he shut his eyes one wasn’t far behind.

                 It wouldn’t have been of the torture Hydra put him through.  It would’ve been worse.  Peach leaving him.  That was not an option.  

                 With the change in weather she was getting antsy. That was all.  She had a right to ask questions.  Even ones he didn’t like.  

                 He knew she wasn’t sleeping either.  Her breath didn’t carry the even keel he’d grown accustomed to.  The right thing was to wake her up, talk to her, tell her the truth.  

                 She wasn’t a prisoner, but he would never let her go.  He knew what a control freak he was, and tonight he let her take the lead because he sensed that was what she needed.  

                 Maybe that had been a mistake.  Maybe that was why she asked that question.  The one he didn’t know the answer to.  Would he let her go?  Never.  Did that make her his prisoner?  

                 He had to show her how safe she was with him. Peach was temperamental, and he didn’t want her terrified.  In the morning he would show her the proof.

                 The question still left an ache. She wouldn’t leave him.  She loved him.  Bucky worshiped her.  She would never leave him.  Never. If pushed, he’d make sure of it.  

~~

               To say you tossed and turned all night would be an understatement.  When the sky finally lit up you rolled over to see if Bucky was awake.  To your surprise, the bed next to you was empty.

                 You popped up and clutched the sheet to your chest, unable to remember the last time you woke up alone.  Your body had grown used to orgasm to start the day and you frowned staring at the cold spot.  

                 “Shit.”  You brought your hand to your forehead as you rolled out of bed.  

                 You should not have asked that question.  How upset was he?  The man treated you like a Princess and you again accuse him of being a jailer.  What was wrong with you?  

                 Just because you’re not locked in a dungeon, doesn’t mean you’re not locked away.

                 No.  You shook away the thought when you ran to Bucky’s closet and dressed in the first thing that would fit you.  You would apologize, show him how sorry you were.  The guilt at even thinking such thoughts was tearing you apart.  

                 “Bucky?”  You rounded the stairs into the kitchen.  “I shouldn’t have asked that question.  Come back to bed. I’m so sorry.”  

                 “I think you should sit down.”  Bucky was standing at the kitchen table.  

                 He didn’t look up and you couldn’t see his face.  

                 “Can we please, just go back to bed?”  Your lip trembled with fear.  Fear that you’d upset him, not of what he was going to do to you.  You told yourself that as you walked over to the table.  

                 “You’re not in trouble.”  Bucky looked up and there wasn’t anger in his eyes, more of a sadness, and that in and of itself was almost more devastating.  “And I don’t want to talk about what you said last night. You’re not leaving me.”  

                 “Never.”  You walked over to the table.  

                 “I should have shown this to you when I first saw it.”  Bucky sat down first and you pulled out a chair.

                 He slid a piece of paper over to you.  When you opened it up all you saw were words in another language.  But then your heart dropped.  There was a huge photo, taken from your facebook page.  It wasn’t even a profile picture.  How would they be able to see it?  

                 “I don’t…how?”  You looked up at Bucky.  

                 “It says you’re missing and offers a large reward for information and an insanely large reward if it leads to your return alive.” Bucky folded his arms.  “It also refers to you as darling niece.”  

                 “So my uncle does care?”  Rage flashed over you, ready to jump out and strangle Bucky.  

                 But it fizzled almost instantaneously.  

                 “He has enough money to offer giant rewards, but not enough to fly me directly into Istanbul?”  The spike and drop of emotions made you too aware of your heartbeat and erratic breathing.

                 Bucky noticed too and he shot up from the table and came to your side.  Placing one hand on your back and one hand on your chest.  

                 “Breathe Peach.”  

                 You grabbed on to his wrist, almost to steady yourself as you took in air.  

                 “Maybe it doesn’t mean anything.  Maybe the organization knew your uncle was looking for you.”  Bucky was lying.  

                 You knew and he knew it.  But for some reason, it brought your nerves down. Accepting the lie for a little bit would lessen the pain.  

                 “We’re not safe here.”  You spun in the chair toward Bucky.  “People in the market that day, saw me leave with you.  I’m sure at least one of them called these people for the money.”  

                 Bucky nodded.  You reached out and ran your hand through his hair.  That was why he cut it.  He knew.  

                 “It wasn’t safe to travel in the snow.  There wasn’t a choice, but to stay here.” Bucky tried to keep calm.  

                 Part of you was annoyed he kept this information, but for the most part, you were grateful.  You would’ve spent the last few months terrified and on edge.  You shut your eyes and took a deep breath.  

                 You’d been living in a fantasy land with Bucky. Pretty much forgetting how much danger you were in.  What would happen if they found you?  They would separate the two of you, sell you to someone.  It made you want to throw up.  

                 “Eckkk.”  You keeled over and started to dry heave.  

                 Bucky swooped you up and carried you to the bathroom. Your stomach continued to try to expel nothing while Bucky rubbed your back.  

                 “Calm down Peach.”  He whispered in your ear.  “Try to focus on me.  You’re having a panic attack.”  

                 You shut your eyes and zoned everything out, concentrating on Bucky’s hand rubbing your back.  

                 “That’s good Peach.”  Up and down.  “Good girl.”

                 Your senses stopped flaring and your stomach stopped turning.  You lifted your head and Bucky took your hand, pulling you back up on wobbly feet.

                 “We have to leave.”  Bucky guided you back to the kitchen table.  “Now. Today.  Please. I can’t stay here anymore.”  

                 “I have a contact in France.  Once we get there he can set you up with a new identity, passport, everything.”  Bucky pulled the other chair so it was next to you.  “From there, I figure we’ll take a boat.  Less risky than the airport.  Head to Central America. Try to disappear.”  

                 “Okay.”  You were numb and would agree to anything right now.  “Wait, like a cruise ship?”  

                 “I don’t know.” Bucky shrugged. “Maybe.  We’ll figure it out once we cross the border.”

                 “My picture is going to be everywhere.”  You cringed.  “The whole country is looking for me.”

                 “I don’t think to change your hair is going to cut it.” Bucky cracked his jaw. “It would be easier to climb the mountain into Romania, but we’d have to wait another month and you don’t have any sort of climbing gear.”  

                 You shook your head.  Your nerves wouldn’t survive a month.  

                 “I’m going to have to get us a car, figure out a way to hide you, maybe a false trunk.”  Bucky sighed. “But that means I either steal one or buy one.  Either way, it involves me going into town.”  

                 “Won’t stealing one draw more attention?”  You wondered how many people described Bucky. Were they looking for him too?  

                 “This country doesn’t exactly have car dealerships.” Bucky kissed your shoulder. “I’ll have to find someone who is selling a car and then meet with them.  Stealing might be easier. It will have to have a trunk too.”  

                 “Do it.”  You didn’t care in the slightest.  “Whatever will get us out of here the fastest.”  

                 “Alright.”  Bucky stood up.  

                 “Today?” You looked over at him.  

                 “Today.” He nodded.  

                 You stood up from the table and wrapped your arms around his neck.  He pulled you closer and his hand cupped your head as he placed a light kiss on top of it.

                 “I’m sorry, Bucky.”  Tears burned your eyes. “I’ll never leave you. I promise.”  

 ~~

               Bucky should have planned this out weeks, if not months ago.  He was too busy enjoying himself and now it felt rushed.  

                 At least he felt justified in his decision to keep the flyer from Peach.  He wasn’t expecting her to accept it this quickly and thought she would more think it was legitimate from her uncle.  But the response was her nerve frazzled.  

                 She would have never relaxed once the entire winter if she’d known.  Of course, it didn’t change anything but somehow made it real.  Bucky could relate to that.  

                 He stomped his feet on the basement floor. Would there be time?  Or maybe he was ready to leave it behind.  Either way, he couldn’t worry now.  

                 Bucky went to his shelf and pulled the box out of the hiding spot.  He took out a gun and a stack of cash as well as the lock picking kit.  He was about to put it away when a bad feeling hit him.

                 He reached into the box and pulled out another pistol.  Was Peach capable of defending herself?  

                 Would you let me leave?  

                 He knew Peach like no other.  Did she really accept the flyer as fact that quickly or was she up to something?  Why was she so insistent on today?  Red flags started popping up.  

                 Bucky grabbed a duffle bag off the top shelf. He empties the cash and weapons into the bag and did a survey of the basement.  Anything else they would have to take?  

                 He grabbed the medic bag and then remembered he had another cash bag in the crawl space.  He moved some boxes and got that too.  

                 Peach wouldn’t leave him.  He trusted her.  But there was still something hanging over him that this was an act.  There was a brief flash of anger when he said the beloved niece line.  Was she just waiting for him to leave?  Did she still not accept he was her only option?  

                 Even if she didn’t know what was good for her Bucky did.  And if she wanted to be sneaky, two could play at that game.  

~~

               You should have spent the last few months getting ready for today, but instead, you’d spent them in bed with Bucky.  Not that it was a waste, but now it felt like things were moving at lightning speed and you were useless.  

                 “Hey, are you alright?”  Bucky came up from the basement holding three huge duffle bags.

                 “It’s sort of surreal.”  You stood up from the table.  “Can I do anything to help?  Should I pack?”  

                 “We’re going to leave everything we don’t need.” Bucky opened the cabinets under the sink and put the duffle bags inside.  “When we cross the border I want it to look like I’m coming back.”  

                 Everything was on him.  You sighed and looked at the ground.  This house once felt like the safest place on earth, but now it felt like you were being hunted and your sole protector was about to leave you along.  

                 “Everything will be okay Peach.”  Bucky walked over to the table.  

                 You looked up at him as he eyed you.  He was taking in your face like it was the last time he was going to see it.  You stood up to meet him.  

                 “What if we went together?”  It was dangerous for him too.  “I’ll hide in a bush with the bags while you steal the car?”

                 “Do you want someone to see you?”  Bucky’s eyes narrowed.  

                 “What? No!”  You put your arms around his waist. “Truthfully, I’m scared.  I don’t want to be alone.  We’re not the only people who will be taking advantage of the snow melting. These people, they could be closing in on us.”  

                 “You know I love you Peach?  That I would do whatever it took to protect you?  Keep you safe?”  Bucky kissed the top of your head and ran his fingers through your hair.

                 “I know.”  You didn’t like his tone like he was justifying something.  He was still mad about your question last night. “I’m grateful.  For everything.”  

                 Bucky sighed before stepping out of your grasp.

                 “I’ll be gone for a few hours.”  He grabbed your hands and kissed both of them.  “I know it makes you uncomfortable, but I want you armed.  Shoot anyone who comes to the door who isn’t me.”  

                 You cringed at the thought.  Were you capable of that?  Hurting someone?  Killing them?

                 “Shit.”  Bucky reached around. “I forgot the gun in the basement.  Could you go grab it?  I left it on the far side.”  

                 You nodded and turned towards the stairs. You paused in the doorway.  The basement was awful, and the far side was the worst part.  You didn’t step foot in there unless you absolutely had to.  

                 Bucky knew that.  You turned to ask him to get the gun, but he stepped into the bathroom. Besides, he was taking care of everything.  It was the least you could do.  

                 You took the steps two at a time and when you landed went straight towards the back.  You turned and went into the other side and headed for Bucky’s shelves.  You expected to see a gun sitting out, but there wasn’t anything out of place.  

                 There was a tiny window above the random toilet, and that was the only light in the short area.  Your eyes scanned the shelves again, wondering if you missed it.

                 “HEY BUCKY.”  You didn’t know if he would be able to hear you from back here so you turned to go back into the other section.

                 You stopped in your tracks when you saw him standing in the doorway, your heart jumping in your throat.  

                 “This is for your own good Peach.”  Bucky started sliding the metal door.

                 “WHAT?”  You lunged forward.  “Nooo!”

                 The metal snapped into place and you started beating your fists.  

                 “Why?”  You weren’t claustrophobic, but you didn’t understand what he was doing.  “Let me out!”  

                 “You’re not thinking clearly Peach.”  Bucky’s voice was on the other side.  “I won’t be able to do this if I don’t know you’re safe.”

                 Your hand went to the knob and you tried to tug, but the thing wouldn’t budge.  

                 “Please don’t leave me down here!”  You continued to slap the door.  “I wasn’t going to run.   What if someone shows up?”  

                 “Stay quiet Peach.”  Bucky hesitated.  “I don’t think it will come to that, but if you hear someone hide.”

                 “NO!” You slapped the door again.  “LET ME OUT!! LET ME OUT!!”  

                 “I’ll only be gone a few hours.”  Bucky’s voice shook. “I can’t lose you.  I need you to trust me.”  

                 “No. No. No. No!”  You yanked on the door handle again.  “Please, I’ll be so good.  I promise I’ll be your Peach, I’ll be your good girl.  I love you.  I’ll never leave you ever.  Just let me out.”  

                 Your tears started to fall.  The other side of the door was silent, but you knew he was still there.  

                 “Don’t leave me down here.  Please!”  

                 “A few hours.  Behave.”  There was a push off the door.  

                 “Bucky?”  You slapped the door.  “BUCKY DON’T LEAVE ME!”  

                 Silence.  He was gone. You cried as you slid down the door to the floor.  No longer able to hide what had been staring you in the face the entire time:  you were his prisoner.  

~~

               Bucky didn’t like any of this.  He hated leaving Peach alone. He hated hearing locking her in the basement. He hated hearing her scream and beg.  But he didn’t have the time to dedicate to making sure he could trust her right now and if all he could think about was her running away then he wouldn’t be able to do his job.  

                 His bike neared the main road, about two miles away from the house.  He turned and headed to the same town he saw Peach’s poster in.  Bucky didn’t like the idea of visiting it again, but it was the closest one.  

                 Twenty minutes there, probably an hour to find a car and twenty minutes back.  Finding the car was going to be the hard part.  People who lived in tiny towns didn’t have them.  It was the ones in the country who needed the transportation and the houses around here were intentionally hidden as well as Bucky’s was.

                 He didn’t want to worry Peach with that information. It was worrying him enough.  The last thing he wanted was to draw attention to himself, so if he couldn’t steal one then he would have to talk to someone about buying one.  

                 It might be quicker though.  He could picture it already in his head.  Go to the restaurant, ask the bartender who could get him a car, then go meet some shady guy.  Tell him what Bucky needed.  Pay him a deposit.  Pick up the car the next day.  

                 It wasn’t a horrible plan, the only problem was interacting with minimum of two people and the waiting for the next day part.  

                 But it would get him home to Peach faster.  They could have one last night together in the house.  He didn’t want to cross the border at night anyway.  That drew too much suspicion.    

                 He decided to keep his options open.  If there was a perfect car he could nab he would do it, or else he would take the purchase route.  Bucky accelerated the bike, eager to get this over with and back to his Peach.

~~

               “I wasn’t going to run.”  Your back was against the metal door, with your feet in front of you.

                 All the concerns you had about your situation with Bucky vanished the second you saw that flyer.  So what if he was controlling?  Did you care? Didn’t you get off on it in fact? Didn’t you like making him happy? Weren’t you happy?  

                 Why did you have to make that comment?  Why couldn’t you let things stay as they were?

                 This was your fault.  You’d forced Bucky into locking you down here, but that didn’t make you hate him any less for it.  

                 All your illusions about everything were shattered. Your uncle had sold you to a sex trafficking ring.  Said traffickers were searching for you as close as the nearest town.  Your lover had no problem locking you up in a dungeon. You were fucked.  Your life was fucked.  

                 Right now the trapped feeling was making you itch. You pushed yourself up from the floor and started to fan your shirt, hoping to get some air.  Then your eyes went straight for the window above the toilet.

                 There was no way you could fit out of it, maybe an arm to wave around, but to what end?

                 “Hey traffickers, I’m down here?”  You laughed.  Things were so fucked you’d gone delirious.  

                 But you could use some air.  The ceiling was low in the basement, but the pipes made it difficult to reach where the latch was.  

                 You stepped up on the seat and managed to fit your hand between the pipes.  You undid the lock and gave it a push, but nothing happened.  The thing was sealed shut.  

                 Pretty much all of your fears were confirmed, you were not the first person locked in the basement.  It was designed to hold someone.  You were stuck down here until Bucky got back.  

                 What if he didn’t?  You covered your mouth to stop the scream.  What if he didn’t come back?  What if something happened to him and you were locked down here forever?  

                 You turned around, crouched on top of the toilet, trying to talk yourself out of another panic attack when a glimmer in the boards above the door caught your eye.  

                 You jumped off the toilet, taking giant steps until you made it to the door and reached up, feeling under the ledge.  

                 If anything this made you realize locking you down here wasn’t forethought.  It was never planned.  Your fingers grabbed the key.  You were shaking when it slid right into the lock and turned with ease.  

                 You shoved the metal door and it slid right open. If Bucky had put any thought into it whatsoever he would have been more prepared.  Maybe you weren’t a prisoner after all.  

  A/N:  Thank you for reading!   

[arigatouiris]

daughter of artemis // p.p — [04]

c h a p t e r  f o u r

Pairing: Peter Parker x Demigod! Reader [Female pronouns]

Warnings: swearing; angst [a lot of it]; greek mythology rewritten [completely my interpretation of it, oops]; slightly based off the games god of war and assassin’s creed odyssey; hurt/comfort; cliche; fluff [on later chapters sometimes]; mentions of sex and gore; slight alternate universe

Follows events after Endgame, but Tony, Natasha, Steve, Loki are alive in this universe.

Author’s Note: I am so happy that the notes are back~ I was so happy I updated faster than I would have. Anyway, let me know what ya’ll think! It’s slow now, but I assure you, it’ll pick up pace soon! 

Also all of what’s mentioned here (prophecy and deification) are all fictional. I made it up. So, disclaimer alert~

Word count: 3854

04 // θεός god

❅

She wouldn’t deny it, but Marina’s cooking was great. Marina was another woman in the shelter, who had discovered her cooking talents after the decimation. (y/n) wasn't particularly fond of Marina, but had to hand it to her that her cooking was good. (y/n) was having the only meal she’d have at the shelter, dinner, and it was a thick and warm bowl of vegetable stew and bread. People were starting to settle into what had happened, and although people in the shelter did not have strong families, their loss was still palpable.

Swallowing another spoonful of the stew, (y/n) sat by herself, thinking of her mother and the prophecy. On most days, this was perhaps all that she could think about; she wondered if the loss she felt for her mother was a regular feeling any child would feel once they lose a parent. She wondered, as she did so many times before, if this feeling was intense only because she was not completely human.

After finishing the bowl of stew, (y/n) was nowhere close to tired. She had trained hours ago, but her body was still up and running; no lethargy in sight.

    “Might as well have a look around.” She mumbled to herself, before letting her feet drag her around the shelter.

The place was well-built, and looked rather posh for a homeless shelter. The large banquet hall connected to the kitchen, a hallway with several pictures hung on the walls, which connected to the stairway that led to the offices. May Parker had an office there, and so did some other people who were running it before with her, and the new people who were running it now. Heading into the hallway, (y/n) decided to take a look at the pictures.

They were mostly of May and Happy was there too, in some of them. She saw the famous Captain America in one of them, shaking hands with a small girl. Some politicians were in some pictures, but what caused (y/n) to stop dead on her tracks was when her vision replayed in her head.

There was a man, a boy and May Parker. The man with spiky hair, who she had seen first; the boy whose eyes scream to her each night, someone she had learned to grapple onto for strength. Without losing another breath, (y/n) looked for more pictures with the boy, or at least the man, but that was the last of it. The brown eyed boy appeared in another picture, standing beside May—she must be related to him.

Fate had brought her so close to someone linked to her vision; everything was falling into place, everything made sense. She just needed to give it time.

Whoever this boy was, and whoever that man was, she would meet them. And they each had a role to play, just as Natasha was playing hers.

However, there was one more picture that she failed to spot. In the corner, kids grouped together, and Spiderman hung over them—the kids looked happy, cheerful to be around their friendly neighbourhood superhero, but if only (y/n) had seen the picture, she’d know that maybe, even Spiderman had a role to play.

❅

When Natasha took her to the park the next day, (y/n) knew she would ask for answers. However, even before Natasha asked, she had planned on telling her before it was brought up. Leaving Natasha to ask questions would mean there would be more information that could accidentally be revealed. By telling Natasha herself, she’d save herself the trouble of having to explain what Natasha wants to know. This way, she’d be telling her exactly what she wants her to know.

However, that didn’t happen.

    “Let me guess, you’re a mutant.” Natasha’s words were confident.

(y/n) looked at her with wide eyes. This was interpreted differently. While (y/n) was simply just confused as to what a ‘mutant’ was, Natasha assumed (y/n)’s wide eyed expression to be that of shock. Hence, when Natasha said,

    “I’ve seen your kind.”

(y/n) simply added, “I see…”

    “You’re not alone…” Natasha’s voice was uncharacteristically soft. She was thinking of Wanda Maximoff, and how alone the girl must have felt after losing her brother, but Nat was not aware that things were entirely different with this child.

    “I understand why you don’t want to talk about it, too. Your grandfather is using some… means to take care of this. You know something. You know something he doesn’t want you to know, and he’s—”

    “You know too much.” (y/n)’s voice was sharp.

Natasha sighed. Here, Nat thought she had hit the nail where it hurts, but (y/n) was secretly thrilled that Natasha would not inquire further. Perhaps, guessing that one is a mutant is far more believable than guessing one is a demigod.

A second later, the air around them changed; it was quite similar to what had happened days ago, Natasha’s wound had healed but the scar remained. One thing she was not certain about was the truth that (y/n) knew, which her grandfather wanted gone. Sending manmade monstrosities after a child marked that her grandfather was one of a kind, in a bad way, but that wouldn’t stop Nat from trying to help her.

    “Something’s here.”

(y/n) knew it was another henchman. She knew what it was, and she felt her dagger in its pouch; her eyes fell on Natasha’s arm and then back into a stance that went under observation. An aura of murder followed wherever a henchman walked, this was something her mother had told her back when they were created. She never liked them, and somehow, a part of her was happy she could get to kill them.

Natasha quickly pushed (y/n) to the right and pressed her head to the ground. They were behind a tree, crouching by the shrubs. The red haired woman was thoroughly glad that they were in a park, with absolutely no one around—the key feature of the park was that it was almost always empty, and ever since the snap, this park was long forgotten.

    “He has a gun.” Natasha said, trying to find the henchman.

    “We have to find him.” (y/n) whispered back, with Nat nodded.

Natasha knew she had to follow her own tactics here; there was no way a child could spot a sniper. However, what she didn’t know about (y/n), the daughter of Artemis, was that animals were always under her beck and call.

Turning to the top of the tree, (y/n) whistled softly, confusing Natasha who sidestepped behind another tree, aiming to spot the sniper. She couldn’t pay attention to what the girl was doing right then, she was under survival mode; and this meant that she would make sure (y/n) was safe and unharmed.

A small bird sat on the girl’s shoulder, and (y/n) quickly whispered to it. A moment later, the bird flew above the trees, singing loudly. A few more birds followed, and (y/n) grinned. She knew where the henchman was. Running in the opposite direction, she looked behind to see Natasha heading to the back of the park. Confident that the red haired woman would be fine, (y/n) run forward, to the other end of the exit, which lead to a small wilderness. (y/n) continued to whistle softly, gathering birds above her, letting her know exactly what was going on, until she could reach the henchman.

A shot was fired, landing right next to Natasha’s leg. Grunting, she looked back to see (y/n) nowhere in sight, and frowned. What is she up to? Natasha knew the sniper was in the wilderness behind the forest, and judging from where the gunshot came from, this had to be the only explanation. Heading there on her own, she hoped (y/n) knew what she was doing, and whatever it was wasn’t fuelled by impulse.

Going round full circle, (y/n) spotted the sniper, who had lost sight of her, but was carefully trying to aim at Natasha, who was still lurking near the wilderness. Breathing in steadily, (y/n) gripped her dagger strongly, before moving forward slowly. She had a clear shot, and if she had her bow with her, she’d have killed him.

Just when she was ten feet away from the henchman, a twig snapped beneath her feet, causing her eyes to widen, thus giving away her position. The henchman was large, and as he turned around, catching sight of her, (y/n) gasped before collapsing back, falling on her behind; fear consumed her, her lip was now quivering—she had never seen this henchman before. He had the symbol of a sloth on his attire, large physique, black hair and black eyes, dark skin that shone under the light. Uncle, she prayed, shutting her eyes as the henchman neared her. With one last shot of determination, (y/n) grabbed her dagger and threw it at the Sloth, who deflected it with ease.

She let out a squeak in absolute fear, recoiling from where she was. She knew she could not run, the henchman took out a smaller gun and pointed it at her. (y/n) closed her eyes, thinking that she would see her mother’s face, but instead, she thought of Spiderman.

Strange, she thought, as time stilled.

A loud scream could be heard from behind the henchman, as Natasha dug (y/n)’s dagger into the nape of his skull. The large man began to melt a moment later, turning into what smelled and looked like a muddy concoction made with blood. Natasha panted, the dagger soiled and dirty, and threw it back at the girl, who was on the ground.

    “What the hell are these things?” Natasha asked, making a disgusted face, helping (y/n) up on her feet.

She shook her head, “I really don’t know what they are. My grandfather called them the ‘henchmen’.”

Natasha scoffed, “Sounds like he’s a gang leader or something.”

Maybe that’s what he is, (y/n) thought bitterly. She looked up at Natasha, and pressed her lips together. The woman had saved her life, a debt that (y/n) could never return.

    “Thank you.”

    “Don’t thank me, kid. I really wish I understood more.”

There was nothing (y/n) could say to that. Turning to the dagger, Natasha put two and two together.

    “That dagger,” She began, “That’s the key. Or whatever it is that your uncle’s arrow was made from. The same symbol here,” Natasha pointed to the holder of the dagger, “Was on that creature’s gun. It’s weird. But I do know this.”

(y/n) met the woman in the eye, “You’re not entirely human, are you?”

The world stilled. And when Natasha noticed the girl stiffen, she smiled.

    “You don’t have to tell me anything more. Considering all that I’ve seen in my life, this isn’t too weird.”

    “You’re going to leave, aren’t you?”

Natasha smiled softly and placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “I’ve taught you everything that I can, (y/n). Even an idiot can make out that this is your fight. I’m not abandoning you, if you need any sort of help, just come on up to the Stark tower. I’m here. But, I cannot do this for you.”

(y/n) understood. Nodding once, the girl quickly embraced Nat, who hugged her back in return. There was a sort of understanding between them at that second, which prevented her from thanking Natasha. Pulling back, the woman smiled, grazing her hand across the child’s cheek.

    “Something strongly tells me we’ll meet again.”

(y/n) smiled before saying, “Hopefully after I find Pepper.”

Natasha paused, confused. “Pepper?”

(y/n) sighed. “Remember I told you I had one clue about who my father was when I came here? Pepper is that clue. I mean, I don’t know who or what Pepper is, or if he is my father, but I sometimes overheard my mother ask about Pepper. How Pepper is doing or if Pepper is happy, things like that. So I guessed that this Pepper is linked to my father.” (y/n) said, rambling.

Natasha was on guard. There were quite a few mysteries that she had solved in the past, mysteries that made and broke peace; mysteries that perhaps, were far too easy to solve. However, none of those things had actually ever shocked her to the core—her heart did not shake with anticipation, as it did now.

While (y/n) had no idea who or what Pepper was, Natasha knew very well.

    “I wish you luck, (y/n).” She said, and walked off, back to her car. The park was relatively very close to the shelter, so it was not an issue for her to head back on her own; and considering how Natasha knew her uncle was almost always in the area, she knew in her heart that the girl was safe.

Pepper? So, the girl’s from Greece and she’s roughly thirteen years old. Her uncle is her mother’s twin brother. If I think right, then… Natasha couldn’t even complete her thoughts.

Why would her mother ask for Pepper?

On reaching the cabin, which took close to two hours, Natasha didn’t realize that she was standing with a distraught expression on her face when Pepper opened the door. Nat greeted the blonde woman with a smile, and was taken aback when she saw it.

    “Yes, I’m pregnant.” Pepper confirmed, leading the Avenger inside.

    “Where’s Tony?”

    “Asleep. He’s been staying up late, heavy case of insomnia. I made some hot cocoa and he passed out.” Pepper said, smiling.

Natasha let out a breath. “Is something wrong?” Her voice turned low.

Nat shook her head, “No, it’s just… I’m letting things sink in, you know? Steve’s been… He’s trying to cope.” Pepper nodded.

    “How are you, Natasha?”

Nat always adored Pepper’s caring quality. “I’m good, Pep. Say, this is a random question, have you ever been to Greece?”

Pepper chuckled as she said, “That is one hell of a random question.”

Nat rolled her eyes, “Answer it.”

    “Well, long ago, I think? God, I mean… I think it was over ten years ago? There was a gala hosted by one of the national art committee members, I can’t remember… But, he sure was handsome—”

    “He?”

    “Oh yes, brown hair, beautiful features, and a sharp jawline too! He looked like a freaking Greek God to be honest,” Pepper chuckled. “Anyway, it was when Tony and I didn’t get along. He’d have his frivolous paramours following him everywhere. But I do remember him trying very hard to get with that handsome man’s sister. Didn’t work out though.”

    “Sister?” Natasha couldn’t believe how simple this was.

    “He had a sister. Twin. Her name was something… It was funny, I think Tony remembers. What’s this about, though?”

Natasha was quiet.

❅

After dinner, (y/n) went up to the terrace. Not to train, but to revel in the moonlight. A small smile crept up her lips when she realized it was a full moon day; which meant that she could see the moon in all its glory. When she headed up there, she saw that her uncle was already there, looking at the moon.

    “When a God dies, they don’t disappear,” Apollo said, turning to his niece. He was wearing a checkered shirt now, with brown cargo shorts. To anyone, Apollo would appear like a handsome young man, here on a vacation. “They come into life in almost everything that represented them.”

    “So, mom is the moon?”

Apollo smiled a bit, “She can be. She can be in the hearts of the animals you talk to. In women who are kind to you.”

    “What happened? Why are you being nice to me?” (y/n) asked, confused.

Apollo scoffed, before turning away. “I’m a God. I’m nice to everyone.”

    “Go tell that to Hera.” (y/n) grumbled under her breath.

    “The henchmen are born out of Zeus’ blood. He made them using stone, and his blood is what makes them breathe and move around. Ever since there came a revelation that he will be overthrown, which was years before you were born, by the way, he’s been paranoid. And since Hera wants to remain Queen of Olympus, she whispered into his ear and made sure he created them. Three of them, each bearing a symbol. Boar, Hyena and Wolf.”

    “But, the thing that attacked me today had the symbol of a Sloth.”

    “Yes, well, Zeus only made three and they only follow his command. Hera made two. Pigeon and Sloth. You killed them both.”

    “You mean you killed one and Natasha the other.”

Apollo grunted at the mention of the mortal’s name. “Yes. So until Zeus returns, in five years, you have to train. Now that you’ve decided on going down this path.”

    “I didn’t decide anything, uncle! I just want to know who killed—”

    “Don’t you understand that all prophecies begin this way?” Apollo snarled.

(y/n) blinked in surprise, “What do you mean?”

    “There’s always a story that you begin searching. A story that leads you to your destiny. This is the same thing, it’s practically the oldest tale ever told. Be a wit, why don’t you?”

(y/n) rolled her eyes, “You’re saying that if I fulfil the prophecy, I’ll know who killed my mother?”

    “Not only that. See,” Apollo turned to the girl and continued, “Have you ever heard of Dionysus?”

    “I’m not an idiot, he’s right there in the council. Of course, I know.” (y/n) snapped.

Apollo frowned. “He was a demigod, born to Zeus and a mortal woman, Semele.”

(y/n)’s eyes widened. “What?”

Apollo nodded, “Not only her, but you’ve met Harmonia, haven’t you?”

(y/n) nodded. Harmonia is the goddess of harmony and concord. She was good friends with Apollo, but this was all long ago, after which Harmonia decided to leave Olympus.

    “She’s Zeus’s daughter as well. With a mortal named Elektra.”

    “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

    “They became Gods because they fulfilled their destiny.”

(y/n) couldn’t understand. So, if she fulfilled her destiny, would that mean she would become a God? Was she even ready to become a God?

    “That’s why Zeus is worried. It’s not because you shouldn’t become a God, it’s because of the prophecy itself. It stated that you would overthrow him as King. This would either make you the new ruler of Olympus or someone who kills Zeus.”

    “And he wants to protect his seat as King.”

Apollo nods. “Think of how the prophecy ends.”

(y/n) couldn’t forget those golden words. It was as if the words were etched in her skin. She could recollect them in the middle of the night, even if someone woke her up moments before. She could narrate them at any time of any day.

    “It says that Olympus will no longer be a land for the Gods.”

Apollo waited.

    “I won’t be Queen? I just…”

    “Your prophecy ends the reign of Gods in Olympus, (y/n). That’s what Zeus is scared of.”

❅

The world knew of Artemis’ beauty. Hair as wild as her heart, a spirit as free as the earth itself. Everyone in Olympus knew of how much Artemis could love, and how much she could resist. She loved her brother, Apollo, and rode with him on their chariot, sparring and learning, singing songs together. She loved her daughter, taught her how to hunt, how to use the bow and arrow, how to listen.

    “Who’s my father, mom?”

    “He’s a very smart mortal man, darling. I hope you meet him one day.” Artemis said, plucking an apple off a tree.

    “Why are we not with him?”

    “Because he’s mortal, love. And we’re not. He has to live his own life, dear.”

    “He doesn’t know, does he?” (y/n) asked.

She was seven years old at the time. Artemis paused and turned to face her little daughter. Pressing her lips together, she crouched down to (y/n)’s level and kissed her nose.

    “Your father doesn’t know about us and that is why he is safe.”

(y/n) never knew or understood Artemis’ logic behind those words. Whoever her father was, didn’t know about them because Artemis was protecting him. And this only meant that she loved him. That night, (y/n) struggled to remain asleep. Visions of the past, and things that have not happened, people she had not met, scared and tormented her as she slept.

She saw the red and blue flashing through New York, swinging the way he had swung with her all those months ago. He would jump often, mid-air, trying to seem cool. Looking down, she saw her own feet, but shoes she had never worn before. She looked at her hands, they were her own but were longer. There was a bracelet on her left hand, and she seemed to be wearing a black jacket.

Spiderman lands in front of her, takes her hands in his. He’s only inches away from her, she could almost hear his heart beat. He presses his forehead to hers, mask still on, and stayed that way for an entire minute.

    “You can have a life here, with me.” His voice is gentle, almost begging.

Pulling away, his hand reaches the edges of his mask as he takes it off.

Gasping, (y/n) wakes up, breaking a sweat.

❅

series taglist:

Those I could not tag, I’ve added your urls here!

@maddie-laufeyson​, @mscoloneldanvers​, @https://dancing-flame.tumblr.com, @daughter-of-stark​, @spider-mendes​, @nerdyandproudofitsstuff​, @someonekeepstakingmyusernames​, @alina-margaret​, @yourwonderbelle​, @viarogers​​, @https://huangsushii.tumblr.com, @eridanuswave​ @oliviaisnotlistening​ @mizpotatobiscuits​ @editsbyjenny​ @abbieroseb​ @justtrynagetthroughlife​ @secretlittlewonders​​ @missmulti​ @shallowshawnshallowshawn.tumblr.com  @eunoiametonia​ @adistiany​ @justletmesleeptillidie​ @ppunderoos​ @myheartonthemove​ @heir2chaos​ @honeybutterparker @truthdaze 

[talldarkandroguesome]

22nd of Hearthfire, Tirdas

After morning prayer uncle Urnel asked me to come to speak with him in his study. I knew I would not enjoy the conversation and feared what it was that Tel had brought to him.

As it is, Tel went back to the Harborage after not having received the answer they had hoped for from my uncle. Apparently, as I had presumed, he had told Tel that he could not give me time off nor force the House Council to see me or give me any measure of leave.

Tel even went so far as to ask about approaching the Council on my behalf. I was glad that my uncle persuaded Tel against it. I do not believe they would have met with Tel, but I certainly would never live down the embarrassment. They simply do not understand the way that the Houses function.

But I digress. Uncle Urnel had me sit down and poured wine. Then he began asking after my health. How I was holding up since the funeral. I gave him all the pleasantries of an answer that was expected.

He leaned forward and took my hand. My uncle looked me in the eye and told me that he worried that I had too much on my plate. I tried to assure him that I was fine. He stopped me. He told me that I looked pale, thin even. He knew that I must have a lot of worries.

I tried to explain that Tel was exaggerating the situation and I was just adjusting to the changes around me.

He handed me a glass of wine and told me to just listen for a moment and then he would hear everything I wished to say. So I sat back and sipped at my wine.

Uncle Urnel said that he had affection for his brother and nephew. He knew that I had love for my cousin. He understood that my relationship with uncle Tanval was... fraught. But he also knew that having witnessed their deaths was not easy and they he would not be able to know just how that would feel.

I had a lot I wanted to say. A lot I wanted to never have to voice, too.

Uncle Urnel continued. He talked about the loss of his siblings and how he had seen it tearing apart the siblings that remained, how it had driven a rift between Mother and uncle Tanval. He said that throughout all of it, he had been left to try and keep the peace between his remaining three siblings, to little success. Aunt Vivyne never got over being banned from the line of succession and held it against everyone. Uncle Tanval was upset by the fact that even though he had nearly died in battle, all his youngest sister cared about was their elder sister who had been killed. That even years later, she did not come to check on him and spent all her time in the crypt, mourning. Than he watched Mother go from being a sweet and caring young women to a hard and cold politician who fought as bitterly with her brother as with any rival Housemer.

He explained that the weight of that was heavy. That sometimes he wished he knew a simple solution to just make it all end. But he stuck it out. And as a reward, he was able to find ways to share in his siblings’ lives. A way to be in his nieces and nephews‘ lives. To find a place for himself where he could support those around him.

Honestly, I was not sure where his talk was going. Perhaps after a while he did not either. But he came back and told me that he could only imagine that my feelings were difficult. Complicated. He wanted to give me as much time to sort things out as possible before the House made their decisions. That he knew that on top of everything happening with the House, I had my son and new husband halfway across Tamriel who I must be worried after. My closest friend was there too, meaning I was unshackled from my usual support. Then to complicate things was what must be a constant fear and uncertainty concerning my existence without a soul. 

I finished my glass and set it aside. I said that he had been talking too much to Tel. That the uncertainty had been going on for a long time now and was no greater than before. That mostly it was Tel’s fear that was driving their desire to try and remedy the situation, but that I understood that my primary duty was to my House.

That seemed to wound him, for uncle Urnel sighed and dropped his head, shaking it side to side. When I asked what was the problem, he said that I was forcing myself to be like Mother. That he had always loved how much I demanded my freedom as often as possible. That it was like seeing a Kagouti forced to live in a closet that had given up and sat down.

I protested that I was trying to ensure that we were not to lose any more of our House’s strength. I gave point by point the importance of moving swiftly to correct what the loss of cousin Garyn and uncle Tanval had left behind.

Uncle Urnel nodded. He said that he felt much the same, but that it still grieved him to see me so cowed by duty. And I said I would do my best to try and help him with his duties as much as possible.

He thanked me, saying that he did not know how he would take over in uncle Tanval’s place. He was no politician, nor tactician either. He told me he had thought of naming me his heir for I seemed better suited for things, though in doing so, he would try to give me the chance to recover my soul before making things official.

I immediately protested, saying I wanted to be Grandmaster even less than he did. He laughed. He then confessed he had thought about passing the Grandmastery over to Mother. I begged him to live a long life and Mother an even longer one. He laughed. I assured him that having Mother on the House Council would help him to pass whatever he needed to help drum up support for.

He told me that he had the most trepidation about his marriage. I laughed and said that I understood all too well that fear, though I doubted they would pick quite so ill-suited a wife for him as they had for me.

We had a laugh. And then he told me that there was one thing that he wanted to discuss with me. The House wanted to appoint me to take over the job of watching the family tomb and he was planning to lend support to the idea. He admitted that part of his agreeing was that he knew it was a responsibility I could delegate the task in order to travel for family.

I was touched. Uncle Urnel has always looked out for me. I only hope I can return the kindness. Tel will return soon. I think I will drink in my room until Tel come back after I complete my next set of prayers. Soon we will be heading to Mournhold and I have no idea just how rigid my life will become.

[baldwin-montclair]

Baldwin’s Nightingale (Part 9)

Characters: Baldwin Montclair/OC

Timeframe: After the S1 Finale, TV Show canon MOSTLY (some S2 and Shadow of Night).

Spoilers: Shadow of Night, Book of Life and Time’s Convert

Summary: Baldwin and Alisha attend a charity silent auction where she gets to meet his other nephew, Gallowglass and a strange young witch with interesting abilities.

Tag requests: @christi14 @poemfreak306 @pookie-cleary

———

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 4

PART 5

PART 6

PART 7

PART 8

———

The drive was passed in relative silence but Alisha sensed Baldwin trying to think of something to say, deciding against it, then rewording, and then abandoning his train of thought, the entire time keeping his eyes on the road.

No small feat to render the world’s oldest politician speechless.

“You decided to drive yourself!” She pointed out, thinking of something to encourage him to speak.

“Seemed safer.” He answered, still intent on the task at hand, even more so than the night of their ‘date’.

Something had definitely changed in his demeanour, he was more alert to every source of movement.

“You don’t trust your driver?”

“I trust myself more.” He glanced across at her, “be careful tonight, do not go anywhere alone. Do you understand?”

“You really think a bunch of vampires and witches are going to crash a formal event?” She teased.

He sighed and shot her a warning glance.

“Okay,” she held up her hands in mock surrender, “at your command, my lord!”

Finally, he cracked a smile at this.

“Marcus is right, I think I might like hearing you say that a bit too much!”

“Good.” She noticed his bare wrist.

“Did you forget your watch?”

In what could only be described as instinct, he placed his hand over where it should be.

“Fuck! How did I forget that?”

“Are you alright?” She regarded the usually unflappable vampire with concern.

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” he admitted, “this is an unusual situation.”

“You’ve never gone to one of these fancy events with a plus one before?”

“I have, more times than I can count.”

“Wow, I feel so special now.” She teased.

“No, that’s...that’s not what I meant.”

“I know, I was just messing with you.”

“Are you up for this? Truly? If you don’t want to do this tonight, we don’t have to, I’ll think of something else.”

“No, I want to, I’m curious. Usually end up in the corner with the rest of the orchestra at these things, will be interesting to see it as a guest. Besides, you told me the congregation are worried you’ve kidnapped me or whatever. Seeing us at an event together will put out that fire.”

He glanced across at her.

“What?” She asked, sensing the question he was unsure about asking.

“How are you, really?”

“I’m sad,” she admitted with a shrug, “I miss Michael. I’m also fucking furious at this Gerbert bastard who’s the cause of what happened to him. But, at least I can say that now because I’m not hyper focused on being terrified, thanks to you.”

“I didn’t do anything.” He reiterated.

“You know that you don’t have to do anything beyond just be there? Not everything needs a response or a fix. Besides, I’ve been living your space for a couple of days, you bought me this probably insanely expensive dress and this terrifyingly heavy jewellery to go with it.”

“That’s nothing and you’re staying with me until it’s safe.”

“You think that’s not doing anything? Just be you, it’s helping.”

“‘Me’ can be kind of an asshole.”

“Don’t you dare talk about you like that!” She ribbed gently, making him laugh.

“I’ll try.”

“Feel a bit less uptight?”

“Yes,” he nodded, “the last time you did that we hadn’t even spoken yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“The first time I heard you play, I was so close to firing the entire trading floor. You saved a lot of people their jobs.”

“I knew there was a vampire there that night, your stare is kind of intense. Then, it actually softened, I thought I was imagining it.”

“Your playing is amazing, I would love to hear it again, when you’re ready.”

“Well,” she grinned, “if you’re good, I might treat you to a private concert later!”

Alisha had entered this building possibly hundreds of times in her life, the New York Public Library. Between returning books for Michael or as part of an orchestra for an expensive wedding reception, she thought she knew it well enough.

It was much different being on the other side of the complimentary champagne, especially when Baldwin seemed to be the guest of honour.

“I feel like I’m on a date with Bruce Wayne.” She whispered to him as they made their way through the obviously wealthy crowd.

“Who?” He asked, then smiled when she gave him a shocked look.

“Hilarious.” She retorted.

“Baldwin Montclair,” a man she recognised as the mayor approached, “I always invite you in the vain hope you’ll attend. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate your contributions. That said, I was surprised to receive your bid for this one. It’s not a collection you’re usually interested in.”

He turned his attention to Alisha.

“Do I have you to thank for this Miss...” he held out his hand in greeting.

“Black, Alisha Black,” she accepted the handshake, “Mr Mayor, I don’t believe anyone could influence his mind on anything.”

“That’s not true, I believe both myself and Mr Montclair here share the same weakness. Beauty, my dear.”

Baldwin cleared his throat.

“Speaking of which, I haven’t see your lovely wife, is she quite well?” The forced look of innocence on Baldwin’s face as he asked the question was something to behold.

“Uh, no...dear thing she is quite poorly this evening. If you’ll excuse me!” He hurried off.

“What was that about?”

“Mayor Family Values is sleeping with his intern,” he nodded towards the twenty-year-old he was approaching, “the reason his patient wife is not here.”

“How do you even know that?”

“Vampire senses, sometimes we pick up things we wish we hadn’t.”

“And I though daemons cornered the market on gossip, that must be really quite handy for you.”

“How so?”

“Blackmail, spying, that sort of thing.”

“This from the woman who introduces herself like she’s 007, Black, Alisha Black.”

“I knew it!”

“What?”

“You might not follow popular culture but I knew you’d like James Bond!”

“Perhaps my particular talents have helped me in some cases.”

“Baldwin the spy, that’s interesting.”

“I was never the spy, that’s Matthew’s domain.”

“What’s yours?”

“Tactics, discovering the chinks in the armour, the break in the ranks. Finding weaknesses and exploiting them.”

“What if there’s no weakness?”

“There always is.”

“Ah, you’re the General.”

“I suppose.”

“So what’s the General’s weakness?” She asked playfully but the way his eyes flit from hers to survey the room told her she may have overstepped.

“Sir,” a waiter stood with a silver tray on which rested a crystal whiskey glass, “and for the lady?” He asked when Baldwin lifted the glass.

Baldwin saved her by handing her the glass.

“I’ll have the same again.” He told the waiter.

“Thank you, I had no idea what I was supposed to ask for.” She told him before taking a drink.

“You ask for whatever you want,” he told her pointedly, “always ask for whatever you want!”

Alisha felt the flitting sensation of cold from across the room as an alarmingly tall but genial enough looking vampire approached them both.

Even if he did have an expression of surprise.

“Uncle, I really did not think you would be here.” The blonde greeted with the same respectful tone Marcus used.

“You’re Gallowglass, right?” Alisha asked.

“Yes,” the vampire’s expression lightened, “he’s been telling you about me!”

“Not exactly,” Baldwin scowled, “this is-“

“Alisha, I know,” Gallowglass gave her a polite nod, “Marcus has already shared the gossip with me about the beautiful violinist who has utterly enthralled our dear Uncle Baldwin!”

“Tell him it was nice to meet him, he left before I had a chance to say so myself. I doubt your dear Uncle Baldwin will pass that on.” She answered to receive a hearty laugh before he went back to looking around with a slightly nervous air.

“Why are you here, you despise these events?” Baldwin asked.

“That’s not true, I-“

“Gallowglass, there you are.” At his side was a smaller young woman, still taller than Alisha and with an athletic bearing. Stunningly beautiful with long, dark, curled hair and piercing blue eyes.

“Becca, you can’t be here right-“

“Nonsense!” She responded with some excitement.

Baldwin’s attention was elsewhere, he did not see the amused and familiar gaze the young woman was giving him.

“Apologies, Gallowglass, keep Alisha entertained for a moment.” Baldwin stated distractedly.

“I’m kind in the middle-“ Gallowglass protested.

“That wasn’t a request!”

“Yes Seur!” Gallowglass responded like an army private given an order by a superior officer.

“I’m sorry about that,” Alisha told Gallowglass when Baldwin left, “he’s-“

“No need, I know my Uncle,” Gallowglass answered with a comforting smile, “where are my manners, Alisha, this is Rebecca.”

“Becca.” The girl held her hand out and Alisha accepted the gesture, a witch, possibly.

It was difficult to tell.

“Are you a friend of the family?” Alisha asked her, eliciting a giggle.

“That’s an interesting way to put it.” She checked her watch.

It was an odd selection for such a stylish young woman. Antique, brown leather straps with a custom hole to fit her slender wrist and a large clock face with multiple dials, most likely a man’s timepiece, like an old fashioned pilot’s watch from the 40’s.

It was definitely an antique.

“You stay, I’ll deal with that small problem,” Becca told him, turning back to Alisha, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Gallowglass frowned at her statement but she was gone before he could voice his displeasure.

“She’s strange! I like her!” Alisha told him with a smile.

“We’ll see!” He answered just as cryptically.

“Apologies.” Baldwin returned.

“I should have known!” Gallowglass rolled his eyes.

“What?” Alisha looked between them.

“I’ll tell you, when the bid is successful.” Baldwin answered.

“What’d you bid on?” She asked him.

“You know that Matthew has one in his tower? Just ask him for it...when he gets back.” Gallowglass suggested.

“We have a winner of our Lot One. A recently uncovered Guarneri Violin. Created by Bartolomeo Giuseppe Guarneri, del Gesu circa 1725. Congratulations to our anonymous benefactor Bidder 45, and thanks on behalf of the arts of this great city.” The mayor announced to a round of applause.

“That is at least seventeen million.” Alisha told them both.

“Is that all?” Gallowglass grinned.

“I don’t understand, how’s anyone supposed to know who won, or what bid won?” She asked as the Mayor proceeded to announce the winners of the other lots.

“That’s kind of the point, the lots are worth a fortune. For security and privacy the bidders are kept confidential.” Gallowglass explained.

“That makes sense. I saw a necklace that had to be at least a million dollars.”

“If it’s the one I think you mean, times that by at least five!” The blonde laughed.

“I’m sorry, I think I just had a stroke, what did you say?” She stared, stunned.

“Marie Antionette owned it, for a time.” Baldwin chimed in.

“Yikes.”

“Exactly.”

“So, did you win?” She asked Baldwin.

He retrieved his phone from his pocket, reminding her that she still needed to replace the one Christina broke.

“I’ll let you both get back to it, I have to go see what kind of trouble that Lass got herself into. I’ll catch up later. Alisha, you have put me on equal gossip footing with Marcus,” he put his hand over his heart, “I thank you.”

“I’m glad to have met you Gallowglass.”

“The witch? Be careful.” Baldwin told him sternly.

“Uncle, you have no idea!” He left them and Baldwin turned his attention to his phone before standing behind her.

“Baldwin, what are you-“

“Shh,” he whispered lightly in her ear, “I have a gift for you, close your eyes.”

Excitedly, she did as he told her as he took the glass from her and put the phone in her hands.

“This had better not be that necklace.” She warned him jokingly.

“Open them.”

The words on the phone didn’t register initially until she realised what she was seeing.

Baldwin Montclair - Bidder 45

She dragged in a breath that seemed to stick there.

“You can’t.”

“I did, it’s already paid for.”

“It’s far too much, seventeen million dollars.”

“There was some light competition, so it was actually twenty-two million.”

“But-“

“You don’t like it.”

“Like it? I’m terrified to look at it in case just doing that decreases the value.”

“At that price you’ll do more than look at it.”

“You’re not suggesting-“

“It was created to be loved by someone and it deserves that person to be you.”

“I really want to say thank you but that is so not enough.” She turned to look at him, oblivious to the judgemental eyes around them.

“Words can be inadequate, for what matters. We sometimes have to let our actions speak for us.” He agreed, tucking her hair behind her ear, his faint smile thoughtful.

“Do you understand?”

It wasn’t the expense, or even the before-believed-unreachable-prize, but what it meant and what he was saying with it that moved her to lean forward, close enough so that only he could hear.

“I love you too.” She told him and started to pull back to see his reaction, with slight trepidation, hoping she hadn’t misread his non-verbal statement.

Instead he held her close

“We need to go home, now,” he told her, his voice just above a growl, “or there’s a danger that I take you right here in front of these people.

“What makes you think I’d try and stop you?” She hit back, the change in his voice and his possessive words igniting her own arousal.

“Tempting, but I don’t think so. I want you, to myself, in my bed and gasping my name because you’re hoarse from screaming it!” He took her hand and led her quickly out of the hall and towards the valet.

All she could do was marvel at his ability to claim the last word as there was nothing she could say to follow his detailed plans for the rest of the evening.

———

Rebecca watched Baldwin and Alisha drive off from her place on the balcony of the building as Gallowglass joined her.

“You don’t know who she is, do you?” He asked her.

“Of course I know who she is.” She looked him in the eye as she answered, completely truthfully.

“Aye, but you’ve never met her before!”

“You know I can’t tell you about the future I’m from.”

“I remember that from when your parents tracked me down the first time, dear cousin. For them that’ll be happening now! Time-walking is a guaranteed headache!”

“She’s his mate, isn’t she?” She asked him and he gave a nod.

“All things considered, I wish she wasn’t.”

Rebecca gave him a questioning look.

“I’ve always gotten along with your father more than I have our Uncle, but to find and lose his mate in so short a time, I wouldn’t wish that on him.”

“I didn’t say-“ she started.

“Just because I’m pretty, doesn’t mean I’m dumb!” He joked.

“Who knows, maybe all this time messing we’ve been doing will change something!”

“Becca!”

“I’ll see you...soon!” She grinned and gave the vampire a hug.

“It’ll be a while before you can talk and even longer, I imagine, that you stop!”

“No, otherwise how would I get a word in with you around!”

“Oh, so I am still around am I?”

“Merde!” She swore.

“You are your father’s daughter!”

———

PART 10

[thearrangment-phff]

LXVIII.

October 2018

In late October, Archduchess Isabella left France to attend the wedding of Duchess Sophie of Württemberg and Count Maximilian d‘Andigné. While Sophie was a distant cousin, she was more so a closer friend of Isabella. To Isabella’s surprise, Sophie’s cousin Prince Joseph Wenzel of Liechtenstein, second in line to the Liechtenstein principality had a familiar face as his date.

The familiar face was Countess Laura Henckel von Donnersmarck, Isabella’s second cousin through their mutually shared great-grandparents, Charlotte, Grand Duchess of Luxembourg and Felix, Prince Consort of Luxembourg. Within days of the Württemberg wedding, Prince Joseph Wenzel and Countess Laura had announced their engagement with an intended wedding in the Spring of 2019. Prince Joseph Wenzel’s great-uncle, the Swedish billionaire, Count Gustaf Douglas had invited few selected friends and family to his home in Sweden for a dinner party.

The engagement came to a great shock to Isabella, as she and many others never heard of a whisper about a relationship between Joseph Wenzel and Laura. Whispers quickly went around saying Laura was being pushed into an arranged marriage. The marriages of Isabella to Harry and Princess Olga Galitzine and Grand Duke George Mikhailovich were being brought up again. Olga and George were having an unhappy marriage so far.

The last thing Isabella had heard was Olga and George were highly disappointed in the birth of a daughter, a little girl whom they named Maria-Olga. There were talks about a plan, a plan to marry royals with other royals and those with noble blood. Isabella had been the perfect Habsburg-Bourbon royal. Laura’s mother was a Princess of Hohenberg, a great-granddaughter of Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria, and while she had Habsburg-Bourbon blood, Laura also had much noble blood.

Prince Joseph Wenzel needed a royal or noble blooded wife and though there were better choices, Laura was the only one who had accepted his proposal. Like Isabella, Joseph Wenzel recognized that marrying for love was a choice, being born with such a family meant a royal duty that made him forget having choices. His parents and grandparents were pleased to have Laura marry into their family. For centuries the ties of the House of Liechtenstein and the Houses of Bourbon and Habsburg were prominent and this new marriage proved to just be that once again.

Not long after, Isabella and Queen Letizia of Spain attended the First World Health Organization Conference on air pollution and health at the Headquarters of the World Health Organization, in Geneva, Switzerland. The simple fact that Isabella could speak Spanish with the Spanish Queen earned her the nicknamed of ‘Diplomatic Duchess’ as she did similar tactics with other foreign royals and politicians. The next day Isabella stepped out with Kate on their first joint engagement.  

The two women went to the First World War Galleries at the Imperial War Museum. While the conversation started talking about Kate’s distant family members who died in World War One, things quickly changed to focus on Isabella. To many, why would anyone spend their time on Kate whose family were simple soldiers when Isabella was standing right next to her.  

Isabella’s great-grandfather was Emperor of Austria & King of Hungary, her great-great-grandfather was King of the Belgians,  her great-aunt was Grand Duchess of Luxembourg her great-grand-uncle was the King of Sweden, a great-great-grand-uncle was King of Denmark, another great-great-grand-uncle was King of Norway, another great-great-grand-uncle was King of Greece, another great-great-grand-uncle was Tsar of Bulgaria, and more distant relatives ruled the Kingdoms of Spain, Bavaria, and Saxony because of marriages to Archduchesses of Austria or their own Bourbon blood.

Compared to Isabella, Kate looked small and dull. A simple commoner standing next to an Archduchess of Austria could hardly compare in a historians eyes. When Isabella brought out stories told to her by her paternal grandfather Archduke Carl Christian of Austria and maternal grandmother Josephine Charlotte, Grand Duchess of Luxembourg nee Princess of Belgium about World War One, nothing Kate could have said or done would take the attention off of Isabella. When Isabella shared family stories about the times of world war one in Sweden, Austria, Belgium, and Denmark Kate accepted the situation.

When the car was pulled up and both women had gotten into the car, they were treated by Isabella’s two elder ladies-in-waiting.

“Your mother won’t appreciate that,” spoke Charlotte first.

“I was simply telling stories. My grandmother would have appreciated her own grandmother being talked about,” replied Isabella.

“Her mother would have appreciated it too,” added Christine.

“Marie Astrid was just 4 when Princess Ingeborg died. I highly doubt she would remember her great-grandmother very well,” bite back Charlotte.

“Talking about family members is good, it keeps their memory alive,” said Kate.

“The history books written about Belle’s family are doing that job for her. That’s what happens when you have such a family like hers,” snarked Charlotte.

“Just because books were written doesn’t mean one should stop talking about family. What’s written can be completely different from actual experiences,” replied Kate.

“Kate is right. How we interpret book is not how we interpret family. You’ve read all those horrible things about my family over the centuries. Many of them might not even be true,” agreed Isabella.

“Really? Such the cases of Juana or Maria the Mad. What about King Charles VI of France or King Philip V of Spain? You descended from them and they all have the nickname the Mad. You don’t think what we read about them is false? What about all the atrocities they committed since the beginning of time? Belle, you tend to forget that you come from a family of inbreeding and despicable acts, what else are the Habsburgs known for and it looks like your family does not learn from their past,” argued Princess Charlotte.

“I think that’s enough bickering for today. We have a fun day ahead of us tomorrow for the centenary celebrations. We should look forward now,” interrupted Princess Christine.

Isabella turned to look over at Kate who was shocked at the way the conversation went too. Kate was trying to help but Charlotte was just as obnoxious about royal blood more so than Isabella. When the car pulled into Kensington, Kate waited until they were out of the car before talking.

“It was very nice going on this engagement with you today. Hopefully there will be more,” smiled Kate.

“Yes, of course. Thank you for dealing with my ladies, I know sometimes it seems backward to have them-”

“No, not at all. I understand that they mean a lot to you and they do more,” interrupted Kate.

“Okay, good. I didn’t want you to get the wrong impression.”

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

November 2018

Morning at Westminster then attending several services were exhausting to Isabella. Just minutes after the engagements in London ended, she was on a plane to Luxembourg. There was a mass celebrated in memory of the deceased members of the Grand Ducal Family. While Isabella and Harry had gone, other royals include Grand Duke Henri, Grand Duchess Maria Theresa, Prince Guillaume, Princess Sibilla, Princess Charlotte, and Prince Leopold. It was a small gathering but the simple fact that Ferdinand von Habsburg came to another family event puzzled Isabella.

After the mass when the family was mingling around at the Grand Ducal Palace Isabella felt Harry and went immediately to Ferdinand.

She quietly dragged him away from the crowd, “Two family events, you have to tell me the truth Ferdinand.”

“Charlotte and I are dating. You know that.”

“Yes, but the simple fact that you come to two mass events is getting me suspicious. How serious is it?” asked Isabella.

“Serious enough to be here,” answered Ferdinand.

“She is just 18 Ferdinand.”

“You had someone at 18. It is not like we’re getting married.”

“But marriage is a thought in the far future, right?” asked Isabella.

“While it hates me to say this to you out of all people, but... this is none of your business.”

“She’s my little cousin. I remember holding her in my arms hours after she was born Ferdinand.”

“You’re treating me like a villain,” observed Ferdinand.

“You are 21.”

“It’s a three-year age difference. You and your husband are eight years apart. You’re being hypocritical again.”

“When have I ever been hypocritical?” asked Isabella.

Ferdinand hesitated, “We are getting off point Belle. The point is there is no secret agenda, no lies, no anything but the simple fact that I really like Charlotte and I want to be with her.”

“I just don’t want to see her hurt. She was always like another little sister to me. Charlotte was the only girl, surrounded by three boys, and I just wanted her to be happy,” confessed Isabella.

“I just want her to be happy too. Her parents and brothers are happy with our relationship. Things are going great for us.”

Isabella looked into the eyes of Ferdinand knowing she shouldn’t even have questioned Charlotte and Ferdinand’s relationship, “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry about anything. You had the right intentions but bad execution.”

“I’m sorry. It’s been a rough couple of months.”

“It’s understandable. Your name hasn’t been off the front page of the papers since your engagement. At least it feels that way,” chuckled Ferdinand at the end.

“I have to go now,” said Isabella in embarrassment.

“Okay,” smiled Ferdinand.

Before Isabella could return to Harry standing alone across the room, Isabella’s mother Marie Astrid had put her arm around Isabella’s waist pulling her in another direction.

“What is going on?”

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“What?”

“Have you called Joachim lately?” asked Marie Astrid.

“I have,” answered Isabella.

“Belle! You need to stop doing things like that. I also received a call from Alois saying you are ignoring his calls and from a Kinsky Count that are forgoing all responsibility on the trusts. You are spending far more than you are earning and you have paid barely enough attention to anything else,” explained Marie Astrid.

“What would you have me do?”

“Hand over the chateaus to someone else and put yourself on a budget. No more giving millions to charity. Form a council that has to approve every transaction over 100,000. Think logically about this or face having to sell you jewels within the next decade.”

“I’ll call a meeting with Johann and Alois. It will most likely not happen for a couple more weeks since I have a full schedule,” said Isabella.

“There is another thing I wanted to talk about.”

“What is it?” asked Isabella.

“Christine and Charlotte came to me before mass and said that they believe you might be pregnant.” There was a longed silence between the two women before Marie Astrid spoke again, “Is it true?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want to know?”

“I don’t know,” repeated Isabella.

“I can call a doctor and we can find out tonight.”

“I have to fly back to London with Harry tonight. If I stay, he’ll think I’m running away from my responsibilities or doing something I shouldn’t.”

“Then your father and I will talk to him. Belle, you should know by now.”

“I’ve been under a lot of stress lately. I haven’t been paying much attention to many things,” replied Isabella.

“I worry for you.”

“I understand mama.”

“If you are pregnant, then you can’t be on pills or at least the ones doctors would usually recommend,” said Marie Astrid.

“Pills? You want to go on medication?” asked Isabella.

“If it helps you and everyone around you then yes, I do. Belle, you have to think about Harry, your sons, and another possible child.”

“I understand.”

“I’m only trying to look out for you. You are my only daughter that is not within driving distance of me. I worry like any other mother would,” explained Marie Astrid.

[arcticdementor]

But all social organisation requires faith of some kind. A military force needs far more developed mythmaking than helping thy neighbor. And yet in WWZ, the government remains, even as the neighbors failed. Why?

Because it was written by a Westerner. Our emergency myth (break glass in case of quasi-apocalypse) is the Empire Of Man. You cant rely on your friends or family, but the government, the government will always be there. „The State is the march of God through the World“.

Meanwhile when World War Pashtun happens, if you ever get to the point where you wont help thy neighbor second-degree uncle, all soldiers have long deserted and the politicians fled and the capitol is being looted and the judicial code is burning in a trashcan

—“Lykurg480”

I think it's more "city dweller" than "Westerner".

If you live in a modern big city (in the West, and East Asia, and I'd really wager the rest of the world too, though there are fewer cities that qualify as modern and big there), you probably weren't born there. You probably don't know your neighbours all that well, and your neighbours may well be from the literal other side of the world. The USA still has the advantage that everyone speaks English, but in a big city in Europe, increasingly it's also English (and thus not your native tongue) you'll use with your neighbours. I know that in Amsterdam and in Berlin you shouldn't be surprised if even shopkeepers can't speak Dutch or German. And people move about constantly for their careers nowadays, even abroad. You don't have the same neighbours for more than a couple of years. You've got no real reason to trust them, nor they you.

So what if there is a dispute? Well, you can call the police on your neighbours if they're bothering you. So you trust in the state against your neighbours. The state is always there after all. It has laws and procedures and officials, and you know how it'll react. For a common individual, this is even mostly the same between modern-ish countries (even dictatorial ones like China, if you keep to the big cities), and if you move, you can learn the local quirks soon enough. If your neighbours are making noise - do you go and knock on their door? Do you know how they will react? Best to just call the police. And if there actually were a zombie apocalypse? Rob them and take their food before they think to do it to you.

In the countryside it's different. Even in the Netherlands, there's surprisingly little overt state power out in the villages. Where I grew up, I only saw one cop my whole life until I moved away for college. In my village there was someone whom everyone semi-ironically called 'the chieftain' who took over some of that duty if it was necessary (which was generally kids acting shittily or something, nothing serious ever happened). He was big and strong and looked a lot scarier than he actually was, so it was his job. The area hasn't seen a large influx of people for centuries, in fact people tend to leave, so everyone knows everybody, and everyone knows about everyone's family. Some of the villages were already there in the Roman era. And nobody likes the central government much, they're the people who are always trying to take your money and interfere with your life. In fact, the state seems to be receding. When I was growing up, there were proper tax-paying businesses that shuttered one by one, but now every time I visit there seem to be more informal little shops and stands. (And mind that that is nowhere near the most remote place. Some places have local militias with helicopters. And that's not the most remote place either.)

If there were a zombie apocalypse there, they'd all band together, I'm sure of it.

To view it another way: where I grew up (and I'm told this is the case throughout the Dutch countryside), when you met a stranger, you would ask something that doesn't translate all that well to English but that approximately means: "who are you related to?". That would establish your interlocutor's place in society, and you could immediately have a conversation to see if he's missed anything that has happened. (And if he's a real stranger he'd just say "I'm not from here".)

When I went off to college, the opening sentence became "where are you from?". After all, everyone's from somewhere else. Nowadays, with all the racial sensitivity, it's waning in popularity a bit, but certainly anyone who looks white you can still ask "where are you from?". And every once in a while that results in a conversation like "East Jesus? What a coincidence. I'm from West Jesus. Who are you related to?". And then, perhaps, those two people may help each other fend off zombies when the time comes.

The Pashtuns, of course, are some of the furthest removed from big modern city life, so they're one of the very best examples of it. Afghanistan is a defender's dream, and on top of that it's just a bad place to live. So the communities that live there are insulated from the outside world, are all related, and have a good reason to see everyone else as an enemy - but they're really only, say, Borderers turned up to 11.

—“marinuso”

[yeunarchive]

hello , hello my name is veer, she/her and living in the gmt+1 timezone. anyways this is yeun minsu / hellcats mechanic and fighter ,  resident firestarter , who won’t hesitate to light up your car if you are mean. here is a pinterest board and under the cut , you will find his biography , and some wanted connections ideas at the end. i hope to go through all the intro posts in the tag , but in the meantime give this a like / hmu in the ims or discord V.#6252

┅ ☆ ★ ✮ ∟ ‖ jeon jungkook. 21. male. he/him ‖— the familiar scent of ash coming from a car engulfed in flames , the match in his hand , a kiss on the throat. 」YEUN MINSEOK “MINSU” is planning on attending the next race ?! i won’t lie, i’m pretty excited to see their BLACK & YAMAHA YZF-R1M in person. i know people say they’re really  QUICK-LEARNER , PROUD & DETERMINED , but don’t you think they come off way too IMPULSIVE  , CORRUPTIBLE &  RESENTFUL ? i hear they’re always blasting GOOSEBUMPS by TRAVIS SCOTT ? oh well, they’re a member of the HELLCATS so i guess i shouldn’t complain. ┠ veer , gmt+1 , 21 & she/her ┨

trigger warnings for arson and infidelity.

I.

the runt of the litter, the black sheep in a pack of wolves. from a young age, minsu was disdained by his mother ; an animosity that began shortly after his birth, as the infant was a result of a wayward affair that his father had with one of his secretaries - and his mother never made a secret that he was no son of hers, words sharp and cutting as diamonds through teeth. yet in many ways, she was the only mother he has ever known. she never mistreated him, but was cold and avoided him whenever possible, viewing him as a living reminder of the one time that her husband had dishonoured her. though his mother was not his birth-mother he would still be raised alongside his three-elder siblings ; attend the same private schools they had, subjected to violin lessons , private tutors ,  but he would always be marginalized, it was an unique experience, minsu would sit at the dinner table alongside his family, but when important guests came to visit the the manor, in order not to offend him, he would be hidden in one of the many rooms or shuffled off to stay with his crooked uncle. this way of upbringing was the root of his selective muteness, an unwillingness to speak around members of his family - he would speak to the maids, the stranger on the street and sometimes with his father, but that was very few words at best.

II.

in a family of cut-throat politicians, minsu was not the only black sheep - his uncle having always felt short of his brother’s  accomplishments grew his envy into benevolence, but for the wrong sort of people , running an illicit automobile shop out of spite and where the back of the shop turned into a fight club at night welcoming all degenerates, misfits, and hell-seekers. but most of all welcoming him. god help the outcast, for he fell as icarus had for those who gave him a little bit of love. Weak-willed and naive he was ; his muteness hadn’t given him a chance to find his voice and personality until much later. it was easy then, for the scorned brother to manipulate him and turn him against his family. at first, minsu observed with crossed arms from the sidelines of the shop ; watching how his uncle went about his work and observing how he had a team of 5 men working on the cars in the front and another select 3 arriving at late hours with random cars, which minsu later realized were stolen from the streets. 

he was thirteen and for the first time, he spoke to someone within his family that was not his father - asking his uncle if he could teach him. after that, it did not take long for some sort of father-son relationship to be build - with his uncle learning him the workings of a car ; tidbits of basic restorations ; changing tires and engines. once, he was fifteen , he got to learn more about the illegal side: how he had to cover an entire track of stolen cars very carefully, how to make fake receipts from a manufacturer for part items of a car and sell the rest of the parts to a wrecking yard. and between the hours were the work in the shop ended and the fighting hadn’t begun yet , his uncle trained him , passed down his technique for a powerful right hook. at the car shop, minsu became was he was. kept his lips shut now even towards his father - never talking about the corrupt things he saw, but waiting with beating heart to return again.

IIII.

his affiliation with fire began in his childhood. locked inside his father’s office and not allowed to leave until the guests were gone , minsu found a gold zippo lighter in one of the drawers ( which he soon claimed to be his ). playing with the lighter too much and tempting his bitterness to be  relieved with each on and off flick as he watches with a sort of amusement. eventually, the leather armchair flared with beauty ; orange and red flames burning like the pits of hell.3 he was so captured, that he didn’t notice the fire alarms above his head , until he was drenched from head to foot , until the maid stormed in and there was no choice for him, but to be exposed to his family’s guests. not soon after he became fixated with the thrill of creating fires , through his bad habit minsu was able to expel some of the rage and frustration that he had within him. 

IV.

ripe in his adolescence , his uncle’s drinking caused him to swerve down the wrong road and he went comatose for months. his father hid the scandal from the tabloids like they had hidden him. never coming to visit at the hospital and leaving minsu to be the only one to take care of him. screw the upper class ; all it would take was a match and a few cunningly words planted in his head by his uncle and a war against his own family was declared. he stole 2 million dollars from his family and watched the white manor go up in flames. the world was exploding in violent red and the match had been in his hand. “bravo.“ he could hear his uncle’s voice in his head, and minsu could not help but be proud, and as the hours ticked by he found himself on the rooftop of an obscenely high building, his arm outstretched like an angel ready to fall from the sky.

that night he killed a part of him - minsu never truly felt that he belonged amongst his pretentious family and their position in the 1%. his approach to life was far grittier , harsher,  his own personal violence. he was a boy like arsenic with a cigarette tucked between pouted lips. a young rich kid , ( who never belonged in his family’s house ) had been given his uncle’s shop to rub shoulders with criminals. the hellcats found him in the center of glory and gore , the same boy who had been fixing their car was participating in the raw underground fight , and there were plenty of old rich men willing to bet on him. 

wanted connections :

THE INFLUENCE ( closed m/nb. kings. ) :  it was terrifyingly easy for minsu to fall in the need of someone to look for as guidance. it was the blame of how he had been raised , a way of growing up that allowed him to find his own voice far too late , leaving him with a certain want of having a role-model. for a while it had been his uncle to whom he had displayed a certain devotion , but now it is your muse. must be a member of the kings , just because i love drama and minsu has always been the type of person to pit the world against him , believing that it his crime to have no place on earth where he belonged. which also means that he is not totally devoted to the hellcats.

WATER IS THICKER THAN BLOOD ( open m/f/nb. hellcats. ) : they carry themselves like siblings , and have a way of capturing attention. they are often found not far apart from one another. your muse is someone who pulls minsu back when he gets too far , but also won’t hesitate to step in during a fight. however , even friends need a hard punch to the face every now and again , and minsu definitely put your muse through a lot. your muse is someone who has been known to loudly stick up for minsu even at the worst of times , when he does not deserve it.

with that said, i’m open for any other plot you had in mind !!