#i saw several individuals fighting and one pair mating while i was there

[tenspontaneite]

Back in the UK (not home until tomorrow) with better internet to post pictures, so here's some African five-lined skink from holiday

Plus bonus Spot the Skink minigame for everyone

[headcans-oneshots-and-stuff]

Momma is a badass?

Fandom: DC Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Batmom!reader (in the background) Word count: 1.4k Summary: Your Children don’t know about a big part of your past, but when the situation calls for it, they find out, one way or anotherm Requested by a hydrated Anon: since the request are kinda open. Can i request something where batmom was a former suicide squad member, now dating batman and the batkids dont know? Maybe they are in a dangerous fight against someone and the suicide squad helps them? only if this is okay for you. No pressure or something. Stay hydrated love

Your children knew that you were a great fighter, one that could hold herself against Bruce easily, and they knew that you had been a vigilante long before you had met their father and fallen into the more domestic role of a part-time event-organizer and a full-time momma at day and a crime fighter at night. Sometimes they had tried to ask you and Bruce about what you had done for the most of your early adulthood, but they never found out anything about what happened between your 18th and 25th birthday. A few of them - mostly Tim, Steph and Damian - had thought about finding out the old-fashioned way, but everytime they seriously considered it they remembered that not once since you had taken them in as your children have you breached their privacy without a very, very good reason. So they quickly started to forget about it again and face their own problems. What none of your children had expected was that that blank on your resume was going to be filled on what was supposed to be an easy mission in Gotham’s Docks. You and Bruce were the ones who went, Tim on the Comms, only to find that three of the most dangerous and violent - but in themselves alone relatively small - crime families had “bonded” together to defeat the one thing that kept them from ‘rising to their true size’: Your family. The two of you were good, years of beating and defeating big baddies have shown so much, but not even the two of you were good enough to defeat the small army that was attacking you now. Under the hail of bullets that were raining down on you, a few of them hitting your body armour, but luckily not you, you barely managed to dive for cover behind a metal pillar. Looking over you were relieved to find Bruce behind cover too, seemingly not hurt. He nodded at you, most likely having the same thoughts about you, before talking to you and Tim over the Comms. “Red, we need everyone here asap, this is at least a code blue situation.” “Code blue? I thought this was just a quick in-and-out,” Tim asked surprised. “Just do it, no time to explain,” Bruce grunted as he threw a Batarang at a particularly bold individual that tried to break his cover, disarming him quickly and knocking him unconscious. “I contacted everyone, Nightwing and Red Hood are on their way, ETA is at least ten minute. Robin is preparing and will be there in five. Oracle is going to take over the Comms as soon as she’s online from her homebase and then I’ll hurry over with Black Bat. The others will try to come, but are indispensable at the moment,” Tim informed you and you could hear the almost inhumane quick tapping of his keyboard in the background. Before you had the chance to answer you noticed the small circular object rolling towards you and just almost managed to kick it away and shield yourself with your cape. “We don’t have enough time to wait for all of them!” you shouted over the sound of another explosion and when you looked over at Bruce you almost saw the internal conversation, “They’re on a mission not far from here, they could be here in five minutes.” “Who are you talking about?” Tim asked, but you and your husband just ignored him. “Do it!” Bruce said after he had to dive for a new cover when the pillar he was standing behind got damaged by another granate. Not waiting another second you pulled out a small button that was protected by a glass hood. You clicked the glass hood off and pushed the button, a little relief flooding you when you saw the blinking light below it implicate that the signal was received. Now you just had to survive long enough for your help to arrive. Tim and Cassandra, closely followed by Damian, arrived shortly after, but even with the five of you, you weren’t remotely able to do more than hold yourself against the seemingly never ending attack that got worse with every minute. When you heard the flapping of a chopper somewhere above you, you could have wept with joy, but soon got pulled back into reality when a bigger explosion rang through your ears and debris from the newly bombed open roof missed you by literal inches. After making sure neither your husband, not your children were hurt badly, you looked up to find that the chopper was not the one you had hoped for when you were looking directly into the barrel of a bomb launcher. The thought of retreating filled your mind, but before you could suggest, you saw the opposing chopper blow up in a haze of fire before a very familiar crazy laugh filled your ears - even if it was still half a mile or so away. More explosions rang through the enemy lines and the shift in power was immediately feelable. You had just won the upper hand. Five ropes were lowered around you and soon after you found yourself surrounded by your former team - or rather one version of it, the suicide squad never really being one to keep stagnate. “Did ‘ya miss us sugar?” Harley crackled as she fell around your neck, hugging you with one arm while the other was occupied with shooting an enemy that had been charging at the six of you. “You wouldn’t believe how much,” you smiled and - after quickly greeting the rest of the team - got back to fighting. Dick and Jason joined the fight shortly before the end - before your win - and were surprised by the people who were fighting in such a harmony with their mother that it looked like they had been fighting with you for years, but with the fight still going on they had little time to care about it too much. The twelve of you together had an easy time fighting against the gangs and it only took a few minutes more before you left unconscious, dead (the suicide squad had no no-killing rule after all) and tied up gang members for the police to lock up. The squad's chopper had been severely damaged during the fight so the five went with you to a second-emergency base on the outskirts of Gotham to wait for Waller to send them a pick-up, leaving you with a bit of time to catch up with your old mates. While you were laughing and talking to Harley, Rick, Floyd, Digger and Tatsu like you were old friends who haven’t seen each other in a while, Bruce standing a few feet behind you - keeping up his grim persona, but not stopping you from interacting with the (mostly) villains - your children were at the other side of the room completely dumbfounded at the way their mother was acting.

“Remember that time Waller almost blew up your head because you thought it was a good idea to play pranks in the base?” you asked laughing, the others joining you. “Yeah, well, how was I supposed to know she’d react to a bit of water like that,” Dagger shrugged, but smiled at the memory. “Can’t believe it’s been so long already since I left, it feels like yesterday I almost cut your eyes out,” you smiled - you much like Katana not having been there as a criminal, but rather as a guard yourself. “Hey, if you want back, we’d gladly take you in, I still think Waller considered planting a bomb in your head just so that you would come back and bring some order back,” Rick shrugged, but you just shook your head. “Thank you, but no thank you, I have a life here now. Also I don’t think Hubby would like that too much,” you giggled a little and blew a kiss at Bruce, who responded only with a stern nod in an interaction that your children would have usually found hilarious if they weren’t so occupied with staring. “Ya’know sugah, Ah love attention, Ah really do, but even Ah get uncomfortable if dah little batlings keep on starin’ like tha’,” Harley nudged your shoulder and nodded into the direction of your children. “Oh, don’t mind my little ones, they just didn’t know about my time at the suicide squad,” you shrugged, well aware that you were going to have a lot to explain later on.

[theramseyloft]

What makes cocks and hens attractive by pigeon standards? We know about crop size, strength, dedication and tenacity are all highly valued, but I don't think any physical traits like color, beak length, body shape, personalities etc were mentioned. I do remember you said Money Penny, Gwen, and Bird-Bird were all considered attractive by pigeon standards, but what about them makes them so desirable?

Pigeons consider ferals and homers to be the most attractive.

It’s all about body shape and attitude.

Money Penny (Show Type Racing Homer) stands very upright. 

She’s well balanced, smooth, and elegant, but she’s also solid, muscular, and adds up to a sturdy looking lady.

Her takes absolutely zero shit attitude declares to the cocks that she can defend herself just fine in their absence, and presents a formidable challenge to attempt wooing,

Look at Gwen (Lahore)

Upright, well balanced, bold.

Takes absolutely no shit from other pigeons, and won’t even look at you if you aren’t up to her very exacting standard.

Here is another fit, sturdy, powerful hen who KNOWS she is attractive and carries herself like a queen.

Bird-Bird is not as big or commanding as the other two hens, but she is the epitome of bird shaped, and she crouches at the drop of a hat, so she, by pigeon standards, just oozes sex appeal.

Unfortunately, the cocks mistake her failure to react to their wooing as playing hard to get, which makes her even more irresistable.

Only Samhi seems to have caught on that she just can’t see, and has started guiding her when she seems stressed. Let’s discuss our current residents attractiveness in detail. ^v^ We’ll go by age.

Sun Tsu (Chinese Owl cock)

Tiny, fluffy, and probably the most.. let’s call him exotic? looking little bird in my flock.

He’s an adorable, beautiful little teddy bear of a bird... by human standards. He’s probably the lowest ranking mature cock in my loft right now.

He has to really work to woo Pitch, and she’s the only hen that spends any time with him.

Bobbi (Old Dutch Capuchine hen)

She’s well balanced and lovely, but she is probably the most slender built of all my hens, and pigeons do NOT like skinny girls!

Then there is her personality.

Despite being hatched here, she is terrified of me!

She’s seen what every other pigeon has, including all the other birds cozying up to me with out incident, but there is no bribing her close.

Now that Yun has left, she is the last human hating hold out.

Luxie is braver than she is.

Aside from Luca, the rest of the flock ignore her like something is wrong with her.

Emillio (Portuguese Tumbler cock)

Emillio is considered to be one of the most attractive cocks in the loft.

He was the only bird Gwen would even acknowledge, because her very exacting standards required a bird that stands like her.

Look at them together.

Smaller than her, with a shorter beak, no muffs, and a little more upright stance are the only structural differences.

Even in this photograph, she’s watching him intently.

Emillio is a bold, energetic little guy, that can out fight cocks WAY bigger than him through sheer, unbreakable tenacity.

His attitude DEMANDS respect from the other cocks, and wins the admiration of the ladies, who you will often see nod or even crouch for him in our youtube videos.

He has strong preferences for his favorite hens, though, and tends not to take side chicks.

Papillion was an interesting exception, but we’ll go into that when we get to her.

His current favorite is Tandy.

Luca (Lucerne cock)

Luca is a very mellow cock, largely keeping to himself with the exception of fearsomely defending the nest he shared with miss Money Penny.

Like Emillio, he tends to be faithfully devoted to his favorites.

He doesn’t do much showing off or arguing outside the nest he has now invited Bobbi into, except with individuals that make a habit of trying to steal his scared box behind his back. (His son, Vynni, and Vynni’s second cousin, Lilly.)

So he doesn’t garner much attention from any one of either sex.

He and Bobbi are off in their own little world most of the time, and here lately, she’s been spending more time by herself.

She will be going to her retirement home on Thursday, and he will ship out to his on Monday.

I doubt it’ll stir much up, besides competition between Vynni and Lilly over his vacated nest box.

Papillion (Old Dutch Capuchine x Show Type Racing Homer hen)

Money Penny’s offspring by Ferdi, and the first cross of our Therapy Project is a gender fluid nonbinary individual.

She presented fully as a cock from six weeks into adulthood.

While she was growing up, we were the most cock-light The Ramsey Loft has ever been.

Gwen was her first love, and even after she reached maturity, Papillion presented so completely as a cock that Gwen accepted her as such.

Unfortunately, upon the arrival of the four fliers of the a-cock-calipse (Hoya, Emillio, Bram, and Luca), Papillion lived through every trans and non binary person’s nightmare: Gwen became aware that Papillion is ‘not a real cock’ and promptly dumped her for Emillio.

For several months, Papillion tried to woo Gwen back.

She’d try to join her in her nest and preen her, only to be punched out by the solid, bony butt of Gwen’s wing.

When she gave up on that, she just stood on the floor in front of Gwen and Emillio’s nest and contact called.

Gwen completely ignored her outside the nest. Would not feed near or acknowledge her existence. 

Emillio, interestingly, treated Papillion as an extension of Gwen, and sort of took her on as a secondary wife. 

She laid the only egg he fertilized, but Gwen kicked her out of her nest and took over helping Emillio raise the chick.

For a while, she presented as a cock until she wanted an egg filled.

Instead of choosing a specific mate, she just crouched to let the cocks take turns on her until every one had had one and then set the egg by herself.

Here lately, she has stopped presenting as anything at all, but she looks enough like her affectionate sister, Cookie, that Sissy occasionally tries to solicit her.

She has not been interested in any one at all for almost a year.

Pitch (Frillback x Old German Owl hen)

Not many of the boys seem all that attracted to her.

Her son, Pj, chases her everywhere trying to woo her. He’s even more enthusiastic about it than Sun Tsu, but she’ll respond favorably to Sun Tsu’s offers.

Cookie (Old Dutch Capuchine x Show Type Racing Homer hen)

One of the most desired birds in the loft. Over all, considered ideally pigeon shaped; well balanced, sturdily built, upright and perky.

She’s the only hen here that sees a cock she wants and determinedly woos him, though she’ll crouch like her sister used to and just take any cock that wants some when she wants an egg filled.

She can be seen in SEVERAL Youtube videos absolutely wrecking Sissy and Valentine’s marriage. 

When ever she saw Sissy kissing Valentine, she’d shove her beak into the other corner of his mouth like a demanding younger squeaker insisting he feed her too.

When ever he’d actually go to step up and tread Valentine, Cookie would dive between them so he’d tread her by mistake.

Eventually, he started seeking her out to tread instead of Valentine, but still wanted to spend most of his time with Valentine, ignoring Cookie when he didn’t want sex.

Pippin actually likes Cookie. He prefers to spend most of his time with her, and was devoted to her eggs.

Right now, he wants to try for another round.

Cara (Chinese Owl x Old Dutch Capuchine)

Though aesthetically pleasing to most of the cocks, Cara doesn’t stick around to be flirted with.

She and Mia were squeakerhood friends that just naturally grew to be a mated pair, and her refusal to acknowledge attempted wooing solidifies her as off limits to the rest of the flock.

Mia (Old Dutch Capuchine x Old German Owl cock)

Most of his wooing and displays are aimed at Cara, or a warning for other cocks to keep out of his way.

The other ladies move when he tells them to, but don;t seek out interaction otherwise.

Sissy (Lahore x Modena cock)

BIG! Strong. tenderly romantic boy. Inherited the upright stance of his father and the solid, muscular build of his mother

He has and is everything the hens want in a mate, and most of them fawn over him.

Valentine (Voorburg Shield Cropper x Frillback-OGO hen)

Val is tall and slender, well balanced, and physically fit.

I’ve mentioned before that pigeons tend not to like skinny chicks. Sissy seems to like that Valentine is eye level to him. 

Pj gets excited when she crouched for Sissy (because he usually gets distracted by Cookie), and being the opportunist that he is, can’t resist trying to tread her.

She is pretty firm about not wanting any one’s attention but Sissy’s, though.

Jet (Archangel x Classic Old Frill cock)

I don’t think pigeons find any specific color other than blue bar and iridescent necks inherently attractive, but they do love a stream lined shape.

Jet, when he’s feeling well, is the epitome of stream lined, and photos do NOT do his iridescence anything even resembling justice.

But part of what makes pigeons attractive to other pigeons is their attitude.

He HAD to have Rigby, when they met, and put all of his effort into wooing her.

Hagrid (Frillback x Giant Homer hen)

Hagrid is everything cocks want in a hen; stream lined, sturdily built, bold, and inquisitive.

Lots of the cocks vie for her attention.

Betty just happened to be the most persuasive.

Sony (3/4 Old German Owl, 1/4 Old dutch Capuchine hen)

Though upright and sturdily built, Sony only seems interesting to other Owl Breeds and Owl breed mixes.

Silk (Lucerne x Old German Owl cock)

Silk’s build is nearly identical to Sony’s, and pigeons are naturally inclined to favor birds built similarly to themselves or their parents.

Sony is the only hen left in the loft that fits that description, and they paired up before either of them were sexually mature.

Betty (Classic Old Frill x Racing Homer cock)

Racing homers are probably the most universally attractive breed to other pigeons, and Betty inherited most of his mother’s build, with his father’s chest frill ad bold, jaunty demeanor.

He is a flamboyant dancer who isn’t afraid to throw his weight around, so he’s gained a fairly high status in the ranks of the Ramsey Flock.

Having won Hagrid over, he likes to parade around her when not sitting on her eggs.

Hagrid finds this immeasurably attractive, and so do several of the hens, who often nod to him in passing.

Rigby (Classic Old Frill x Racing Homer hen)

Betty inherited more of their father’s upright stance, which makes cocks supremely attractive to hens, but Rigby inherited more of her mother’s horizontal stance, which makes hens look ready to be tread and gives cocks the impression of being perfectly balanced to easily support them.

She’s bold and sassy and wants what she wants when she wants it, and the cocks fall all over themselves to woo her when she makes it clear they might have a chance.

Tandy (1/2 Racing Homer, 1/4 Old Dutch Capuchine, 1/4 Show Type Racing Homer)

is presently the most attractive hen in the loft.

She closely resembles a purebred Racing Romer, but the Show Type Racer gives her a bit more bulk and makes her look extra solid.

Nearly every cock here has tried to get Tandy’s attention, but Emillio is a tough cock to compete with.

Pj (1/2 Chinese Owl, 1/4 Frillback, 1/4 Old German Owl cock)

You can see in this boy just how persistently the Frillback build inherits.

He’s gorgeous, even by Pigeon standards, though not exactly their ideal.

His posture, vivid iridescence, and bold attitude are his best features, though the latter can hurdle right into obnoxiousness.

Escher likes him, and doesn’t seem to mind, unless she wants his attention right then, that he tries to woo and tread almost every hen that crosses his line of sight like a horny teen stereotype.

Luxotica is a purebred Racing Homer.

Physically, her elegant, streamlined little body is the epitome of attractive to pigeon cocks.

But her skittish temperament reads to the Ramsey cocks, who know they are safe, a lot like a learning disability.

To most of them, she’s pretty, but not worth the risk of being spooked off her nest by the giant flock Auntie.

Lilly likes her, though, and has been putting in the time to work her slowly out of her wariness by example.

Escher (1/2 Old dutch Capuchine, 1/4 Old German Owl, 1/4 Chinese Owl)

Aesthetically, Escher is beautiful by pigeon standards: well balanced, solidly built, fine featured... 

But to most cocks, her temperament leaves much to be desired.

She is difficult to distract or deter from what she’s doing, and comes across too busy to pay attention to any attempts to flirt with her.

Vynni (Lucerne x Show type Racing Homer cock)

Vynni is VERY aesthetically attractive to hens. Big, tall, solidly muscled, fearsomely tenacious combatant..

But, like Escher, he seems completely tunnel visioned on what ever it is that he’s doing.

Usually, fighting with his father, Luca, and his second cousin, Lilly, over nest boxes.

I have yet to see him attempt to actually woo any one.

Pippin (Feral cock)

Small, but feisty, with a vivid neck and energetic dance moves, Pippin is another in the category of mostly aesthetically pleasing by pigeon standards.

Hens love his attitude, and Cookie was charmed off her little claws by his persistent, sweet wooing.

His tiny size is a bit of a disadvantage. He’s too light to put up serious resistance against another cock that really wants his nest, and pretty much every one knows it.

Lilly (1/2 Racing Homer, 1/4 Old dutch Capuchine, 1/8 Old German Owl, 1/8 Show Type Racing Homer cock)

Lilly is the youngest of our sexually mature birds, having just reached 6 months of age on Monday.

He is SOLID, thanks to being mostly some variant of Homer, and a bold, aggressive combatant that takes no shit from any one.

He was the first of the entire flock to come down and meet adult, thickly muscled racer cock Karen’s aggressive challenge on arrival.

They fought fiercely for nearly 5 minutes, and gained enough of a mutual respect to neither antagonize nor flee each other after that.

He is probably the bravest bird in the loft, and skittish Luxie benefits tremendously from his fearsome protectiveness of her and which ever nest box she wants at any given time.

For these highly intelligent, intensely social birds, appearance alone will NOT win you a mate.

Though they certainly do have their aesthetic preferences: 

Big, solidly built cocks that stand proudly upright, 

and sturdy, stream lined hens with large eyes and slightly finer features who stand more horizontally, (both sexes preferred in blue bar with a vivid neck iridescence...)

A bird with an unpleasant temperament will be ignored no matter how good looking they are.

Both the looks and the personality are required for a pigeon to be attractive to their flock mates.

[loveafterthefact]

Love After the Fact Chapter 43: Lost and Found Part 1

Shiro and his team are sent to retrieve a high-profile individual. They don't exactly get what they came for.

First  Previous  Next

They’ve been riding all day, Shiro and his team. The pine forest isn’t at all one of the roughest places to be, though it isn’t the easiest either. Wild wolves roam the ground and kronil loom in the trees. Not to mention vakalt, grinongins, and riesmekts.

“Remind me again what Zarkon wants with this traitor,” one of his men grumbles. Haxus, as usual. Patience yields focus.

“He wants to see his littermate, so he has asked us to summon him to the Imperial Compound. Akira hasn’t seen the Emperor since before Prince Lotor was born, and he reportedly has a kit of his own now.”

“A kit? As in one, single kit?” Ulaz asks, confused. “Are he and Emperor Zarkon far apart in age?”

“His mate’s been serving nearly twenty decaphoebs, so no. Just one, nearly grown.” Shiro frowns. “Odd, but maybe there's a reason. We’re nearly there.”

“We should be out killing Alteans, not inviting traitors over for dinner,” Haxus bites.

Shiro suppresses a sigh. All Haxus cares about is killing. He himself has begun to grow tired of it, suspects that perhaps his liege has as well. Zarkon’s marriage to an Altean managed to settle their disputes for a while, but the citizens were still finding each other a… ‘nuisance’.

With the invention of prolonged space travel, both peoples were struggling to be kind to their closest neighbor. So different from one another, Daibazaal’s first visit from Alteans had led to misunderstandings. The discovery that they were not alone had rapidly shifted from a relief to an inconvenience, then on into war.

“What the-” Drama turns, peering with keen eyes into a particular stand of trees.

Shiro twists to look. “What is it?”

The lieutenant frowns, suspicious as she inspects the forest. “I thought I saw something.”

“A kronil, sir?” Firn draws his sword. “Should we form up?”

Sniffing the air, Shiro rotates his ears, surveying the forest. “... I don’t smell anything, but yes. Drama, take point. Entri, take her left. Firn and Grat, take her right. Stagger yourselves. Sendak, Haxus, flank on either side and just behind us. Make sure nothing comes up on us from the back.”

“Yes, sir!” The squad rearranges their elk, keeping the disturbance and their firepower on their right. Shiro remains in the middle, where he can more easily monitor everyone.

“Sir? What if-”

“Don’t worry, Entri.” Shiro turns back to smile at the young soldier. The Galra has very little experience. Shiro's taken the youth on more as a favor than anything else, but she has talent. She’s just a little more timid than Shiro would prefer.

“Kronil are dangerous, but if it was a kronil, we’d likely smell it by now. It’s probably just a primate.” To Shiro’s relief, that seems to set Entri at ease.

“It was bigger than a primate,” Drama whispers. “But I agree it wasn’t a kronil. Thank the gods. I’m not in the mood to get turned inside out today.”

“Maybe tomorrow?” Grat teases.

“Alteans?” Sendak murmurs, gaze piercing the trees.

“Doubtful. If it was an Altean, we’d have seen white or nothing at all.” Shiro scans the edge of the forest for- there it is. A small trail cut into the trees. He frowns, eyeing the-

“A bit overgrown, isn’t it?” Drama murmurs. “Looks pretty unused.”

Sendak grunts in agreement. “What respectable bearer would want to live in the woods like a hermit?”

“General Krolia,” Grat whispers in awe.

“No fuckin’ way,” Sendak counters.

“Way. She ran off with Akira several decaphoebs before her first season!”

“So a traitor and a runt. Sounds like a perfect match,” Sendak grunts.

Shiro rolls his eyes. Haxus and Sendak sound like an equally perfect match.

“She’s advanced faster than you, sergeant. She’ll be a commander before long,” Ulaz murmurs. “Took over Akira’s required service. Better for the kit, I suppose. Or perhaps Akira refused to fight. He left in protest of the empire.”

With a hum, Shiro pushes to the front, black cloak falling over his elk’s back. “We’ll have to go through in a file formation. Haxus, right behind me. Sendak at the back. Everyone stay close and watch the trees.”

A short ride into the trees, and they come across a den. It’s simple, traditional, three connected domes, stones sealed together with clay, a sun- and weather-beaten cloth covering the entrance. The top of one of the small domes has crumbled inward. The oven in front, a collection of stones, seems long since crumbled to pieces, the fire pit charred.

“Sir, are you sure there’s someone living here?” Firn whispers. “It seems abandoned.”

Firn is right. Frowning, Shiro dismounts his elk, passes the reins to Haxus. It looks like no one’s cared for this den in a centaphoeb. Everything is quiet and still. Ulaz dismounts, coming up behind him as he crouches in front of the fire pit.

“It’s warm.” Someone is here, but something is very clearly not right. He turns to Ulaz, whispers quietly. “Watch my back.”

Creeping toward the den, Shiro readies his blade, keeping it loose in its sheath. Ears pricked, he pushes the tattered cloth aside. He notices that someone attempted to mend a hole in it, tried with an unsteady hand to reinforce the fraying edges.

Inside, the furniture stands still among scattered earth, leaves and twigs. Ulaz whistles softly, points to scrapes trailing from the legs of a small stool. In another, larger chair, is a threadbare blanket. Careful not to touch it, Shiro sniffs the fabric. The scent is strong. Fresh.

Ulaz comes after him, sniffing the blanket. “Sir.”

Shiro nods. It doesn’t smell at all like a Galra of breeding age. It’s soft, sweet, young. In need of protection. The kit. He offers the sire of one, about to be four, a communicative look. Ulaz nods. He can handle this.

They’ve both experienced this before, and it doesn’t get easier.

A rustle to their left, and Shiro keeps point, Ulaz watching his back in case it’s a diversion.

This room is for sleeping, a tattered bed still hanging from the ceiling. A sense of dread begins to simmer in Shiro’s chest as he eyes the single indentation in the thinly stuffed bed.

“Sir.”

“I know. I see it.”

A commotion outside has them running, Sendak’s shout raising alarm. Shiro skids to a stop, notices one of their elk is down, his soldiers glaring up into a tree. Entri has her sword drawn, Firn and Grat have their bows, and Drama is seething. Sendak throws a rock and-

A yowl in response. Shiro runs up, stares up into the branches of a nearby pine. His jaw drops, heart falling with it.

In the tree is a scrawny, naked kit, hissing, snarling, glaring down, ears pressed flat against their skull. Feral. Kits always go feral left alone like this. It happens too often, and there's not always anything they can do for them. One this old? Shiro doesn't like their chances.

“Hey, it’s okay. What’s your name?” Entri asks. Trying, but lacking the needed experience.

“Fuck that shit.” Sendak surges forward. “You! Get your ass down from that tree right now, or we will shoot you down!”

The kit hisses, shrinking as small as they can in the tree. The strip of longer, thicker fur down their back stands straight on end. It’s clearly been a while since they saw another person. They're timid, not eager for a fight. It's a good sign. It suggests they recognize their own kind.

“Sendak, stand down. Everyone get back.” Everyone steps back as Shiro steps forward, Drama still grumbling about her dead elk. “Right.”

The kit shifts, eyeing him as he approaches.

“Well, well, well. Intersex. Not every day you see one of those, eh Shiro?” Haxus snickers. “Oh, and a tail. Weren’t for their size, they’ll be downright pretty when they grow up.”

It’s true. The kit has to be around seventeen to fit the timeline, and yet they are indeed small, still on the slender side. Their tail is wrapped tightly around the branch as they lean forward, hissing fiercely, claws extended, digging into the bark of the branch. A tangled braid hangs down their back.

“Hey. It’s alright.” Shiro sets his blade down on the ground, holds his hands up in surrender. The kit growls, huddles against the trunk of their tree. “Do you have a name?”

They only hiss, eyes narrowed to slits.

“Okay, it’s okay. Um.” Shiro hesitates. “Do you- Do you know a man by the name of Akira?”

The kit blinks, softening enough to reveal large, violet eyes.

“Is- Is he your sire? Do you know him?”

Curling against the trunk of the tree, the kit’s ears droop. Seems they can understand what Shiro’s saying, but he has a sickening suspicion that they haven’t had someone to speak to in some time.

“Where’s your sire, kitten?” Shiro murmurs. “What happened here, hm?” After a long pause, the kit relaxes a bit.

“Hey.” Shiro reaches up to try and touch them, but they flinch, curling tighter against the tree. The sun is going down, cold starting to creep in. Shiro cuts the cloak from his armor, hangs it on a branch just below the skittish stray. They stare at it for a second, glancing between him and the cloak, then slowly reach down, lifting it up to their own branch.

“You can have it. It’s nice and warm. And don’t worry about the elk. It’ll taste good, and we can get another one when we get back to the compound. Nobody’s mad-” Please keep your fucking mouths shut, guys. “-and we’re all good, okay?”

Sniffing the cloak suspiciously, they seem to find it satisfactory, wrapping it around their shoulders, still curling into the tree trunk. Now that their alarm has dissipated, all that’s left is a trembling kit sitting mostly naked on a tree branch.

“Okay.” Shiro breaths out soft and slow, takes careful steps back, his squad following his lead. “When- When you’re ready, maybe you can come down?”

The kit stares at him for a long moment, then ties the cloak so it hangs off one shoulder. They sit quietly in the tree, watching. Shiro turns away. “Alright, soldiers. Let’s set up camp. We need to figure out what happened here.”

Up in the tree, a pair of violet eyes doesn’t waver for an instant, following the captain wherever he goes as night sets in.

[blog-sliverofjade]

Hearth Fires 5: Waking Up

Pairing: Remi Denier x OFC

Summary:  Lorel Maddox just wants to live as a human, run her bakery in peace, and forget. Unfortunately, the alpha of the local leopard pack has very different ideas.

Remi Denier doesn’t know what to make of the female Changeling who wants nothing to do with him or the RainFire pack. He does know that he has a driving need to protect her. Even if it’s from herself.

While they’re embroiled in a battle of wills, there’s a war brewing on the horizon. The outside threat could not only destroy everything they hold dear, but tear apart the fragile new bonds of the Trinity Accord, plunging the world into bloodshed to rival the Territorial Wars of centuries past.

Word count: 2363

Content warning for canonical fantasy racism.  When I started writing this, I hadn’t realized that fantasy racism can be problematic.  I based it on real world examples so it’s a weird mix of actual peoples’ experiences atop a fictional shifter race.  

As you read, try to remember that these aren’t instances I dreamed up in my head, they came from authentic occurrences in the US.  The excerpt before the second part?  Taken from flyers posted in 2019.  This is reality for actual, living, breathing people to this day.

Hearth Fires Masterlist

Beta read by the stupendous pandabearer

Remi’s cat crouched in preparation to battle with the strange predator in sheep’s clothing in their midst; pinpricks in his bottom lip were a sure sign that his teeth were more feline than human at the moment, and his claws itched to unsheath.  How could he have been so blind? He needed to eliminate the threat before anyone could question his leadership, a lethal strike to prove his dominance.

That thought wasn’t him.  It was an echo of another alpha from another time and brought him out of the homicidal haze with a cold splash of dread.  He had to shove the memories and the associated sick feeling in his gut into a box in order to concentrate on the situation at hand.

Holding himself with a predator’s stillness, he studied his prey.  Whenever one of his packmates was unduly intimidated by someone, outsider or not, he and the pack kept a close eye on that individual.  He didn’t haul off and rip their throat out. He could hardly bring her down in front of their youngest in the middle of what was meant to be a celebration.  Such casual exposure to violence could damage young psyches, as well he knew. Yet, it was all he could do not to charge over there and tear the ocelot away from the little family.  Unlike that other alpha, he couldn’t act upon suspicion alone.

The baby hunter had no compunctions about cuddling up to Lorelei, something she would never have done if Lorelei was even close to going rogue.  Moreover, several cubs surrounded her now, curious about the visitor. Their youngest, hunter or otherwise, were some of the best judges of character and the best litmus test when it came to the health of a pack.  It was when the adults didn’t pay attention that problems arose.

“He’s different.”

“Oh sweetie, of course he is.  He lost his mate. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

He shook off the echoes of the past like his cat shook off water and shoved them back in the box.

The music had switched from general background party music to a dance mix, which made overhearing their conversation difficult even with his superior hearing.  Moving closer, he stopped at one of the tables of food so he could eavesdrop without being noticed. Staring at the ocelot would only put her on her guard.

Lorelei didn’t appear on the verge of a rampage; rather, she seemed overwhelmed.  Then again, who wouldn’t be when surrounded by the cubs who were peppering her with questions?  His tension eased a fraction when he saw that none of them appeared scared of her.

“Just you and your nana and papa?”  Remi couldn’t help a small smile at Jasper’s wide-eyed incredulity.  Most of their little ones had grown up in packs or in extended family units at the very least.  Such a small family without ties to dozens of “aunties” and “uncles,” as well as numerous friends of all ages, was an unthinkable concept to them.

The interrogation wandered into what type of cat she was since she smelled different and, to his knowledge, none of them had met an ocelot.  They were much smaller than leopards and the children would probably be delighted at having a grown-up playmate their own size. She was actually rather good with them once she relaxed, and he wondered how she’d handle being swamped by them when they were the same size.  He grinned at the thought of little cats ending up in a wrestling pile and the knot in his chest eased.

Elias waded through the throng to speak to Lorelei.  What came out of his mouth must not have been his usual bullshit because she didn’t slap him.  He seemed downright courteous, which was unnatural and creeping Remi out more than a bit. Lorelei only nodded to him after Tien gave her an encouraging smile.

The senior soldier pulled Lorelei to join the growing cluster of dancers.  While she was willing, it was painfully obvious that she was far from comfortable in her own skin, moving stiffly and keeping her head on a swivel to look for anyone staring.  Elias, picking up on her discomfort, shifted to hide her much smaller body with his own. In thanks, she smiled up at him and shifted slightly closer.

His cat wanted to be the one to crack open her prickly exterior and unravel the mystery of her.  The only problem was after seeing her interactions with the pack, Remi seemed to be the only one she wanted to swipe a claw at.

The rancid emotions he had stuffed down sprang back with a vengeance, sending irrational jealousy spiking through him.  For some reason, she brought out his inner psychopath, all the dark urges and instincts that he kept chained within. Very few knew about them, and he intended to keep it that way.

With a sigh, he rubbed at his temples to ease his pounding headache.  If only he could place the blame on the recent circulation of human supremacy rhetoric, but that would merely be an excuse for his own lack of control.  He told himself that things would be better once she was pack since he disliked having an unprotected submissive female in his territory, which was true, especially with the possibility of active anti-Changeling groups in the area.

He felt scraped raw on the inside.  It had been a while since he’d been this spun up in his head and he needed to get that sucker back on straight.  This was a time for joy, not the shadows haunting him.

“Leaving already?” Lark asked from behind him.  She had managed to sneak up on him, which was a sure sign that he was off his game.

“If you feel the need to babysit, go chase after the cubs,” he growled over his shoulder.

“I’m doing my job.”  She let his temper roll off her.  “Need someone to run with?” He shook his head.  He’d prefer a good fight, but in this mood he was likely to shred even a sentinel.  “Remember you have to be back in time to help judge the costume contest.”

An affirmative grunt.  Pack bonds were important, especially in such a young pack, but he had to vent this before his attitude began to affect everyone else.

WAKE UP HUMANS!

Our children deserve a future free of Changeling violence.  These animals come into our communities with their drugs and violence, lowering property values, living off welfare, and preying on hard-working humans.  In the name of “political correctness,” we the taxpayers are prevented from standing up to these parasites.

DON’T BE DELUDED BY A “BRIGHT NEW FUTURE”

We need to change the country’s liberal policies that are eroding our values.  It’s alright to be human and we need to stop being ashamed of it. Changelings want us afraid and divided to prevent us from having a group identity.  We have been the victims of the other races for too long. They try to divide us, take away our rights, and plan to eliminate us because they fear us.

STOP CONTRIBUTING TO HUMAN GENOCIDE!!!  KEEP THE HUMAN RACE PURE!!!

       -Excerpt from letters sent to residents of Sevier County, Tennessee September 2083

Lorel hummed and swayed along to music while she piped bright pink rosettes onto the rows of cupcakes in front of her.  The radio was set to the show of the DJ from the party, a pretty human packmember by the name of Aoife. Country wasn’t her typical choice of genre, but it reminded her of dancing at the party.  She hardly knew anything about Elias, and therefore had no feelings about him one way or the other, yet she couldn’t get the other night out of her mind; not that she was dreaming of the soldier or anything.  

She had been completely dumbfounded; no one had ever asked her to dance.  Well, not since that horrible prom night in high school, anyway. While she’d doubted that the leopard would try to pull what her teenaged date had, she had looked to Tien and gotten reassurance.  She barely knew the other woman but trusted that Tien wouldn’t knowingly put her in danger.

It had been a long time since anyone other than her aunt had touched her, and far longer since she’d had any physical contact of a non-platonic nature.  Elias had made it clear that he found her interesting and attractive, which she could have chalked up to the promiscuous nature of Changelings. But he had also been respectful of her boundaries even though it was obvious that her limits were far more stringent than that of a Changeling’s, and possibly those of many humans.

She kept her distance not just because she didn’t want them to assume she was easy, or that she was going to join the pack, but because it simply felt too good and not even in a sexual way.  At first, Elias’ touch was nearly painful, like her skin was so focused in its need that every sensation was heightened ten-fold to absorb everything at once. Startled by the sensitivity, she had been about to retreat when the song ended, but the ache of the loss had her saying ‘yes” to the next person who approached.

The sun had set and red, yellow, orange, and white fairy lights strung between the trees had lit up.  At that point, she’d called it a night with the excuse that she had to work in the morning; while that was true, she had worried that she’d be tempted to go exploring the woods in animal form.  Even if they’d allowed her, she couldn’t permit the cat to take over.

Tien had approached her with arms wide in expectation of a hug.  Unsure of what to do, Lorel did her best impression of a statue as the other woman’s arms had folded around her.  It wasn’t a brief embrace, either. It was strong and warm and all-encompassing. Maternal. And she soaked it up like rain after a drought, her skin still starving even after all the dancing.  Although her aunt had lavished affection on her before going travelling, as if she’d tried to compensate for the lack over the years, there was a quality among the Changelings that felt like she was finally coming home.

Lorel had let herself relax into the hug and had, had to force herself to pull away, fussing with her clothes to keep from reaching out to the other woman again.  Her cat’s tail had lashed in irritation at the denial, but didn’t act out in any other way, thankfully.

At the sound of the door opening, she set the bag of frosting down and headed out front while wiping her hands on a clean, damp cloth.  A woman looked at something on her phone as she approached the counter.

“Good morning,” Lorel greeted her.  The customer held up a finger while she tapped something into her phone.  Lore’s customer service smile grew strained while she waited. When she finally looked up, her scent soured before Lorel could offer a sample of berry crumble cake.

“Where’s Nora?” she demanded.

That was a question she’d heard far too many times, but this time the edge to it had her ocelot’s upper lip curling away from her teeth.

“My aunt’s currently on a beach enjoying her retirement.”  The mask wavered as Lorel fought against mirroring the sneer of her cat.

“Is there someone else who can help me?” she frowned.

Okay, that was a new one.

“Just me, I’m afraid,” shrugged Lorel.  “Is there a problem?”

“Don’t snap at me.”  Lorel swore that the other woman was two seconds away from clutching her pearls, if she’d worn any.  “I just want to know when someone else will be in to serve me.”

What in the name of all that was good and holy?

“Ma’am, I’m the owner,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Right,” she rolled her eyes, then muttered, “I just don’t know where this country is headed.  Animals like you taking jobs from good people.”

In an instant, her cat went from unamused disdain to homicidal rage.  Lorel throttled it back, but her eyes flashed yellow-green if the sudden ashen hue underneath the woman’s spray-on tan was any indication.

“Ma’am, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”  Lorel didn’t bother with the fake smile this time.

“How dare you!”  Her colour returned, going straight to red.  “I’m going to sue for intimidation.” Her shrill voice grew louder and louder until Lorel’s ears protested the abuse.  She stormed out, entering a code into her phone.

She released the breath she’d been holding only to inhale a lungful of perfume strong enough to make her eyes water.  Her ocelot wanted to hunt her down like a rabbit, but she convinced it that the meat was bad. She propped open the door to air out the store and the obnoxious woman stood in front of the yarn shop next door.  Still on the phone, she turned and the blood drained from her face when she saw Lorel.

“Oh my god, she’s following me!” she shrieked.  

Lorel rolled her eyes and decided she’d go put her irritation to good use by kneading dough for cinnamon buns.  As much fun as decorating cupcakes for a little girl’s birthday party was, that required a steady hand and hers were shaking with unexpressed anger.

The butcher’s block was barely floured when the sounds of sirens pierced her eardrums.  She dusted off her hands and returned to the front to find four cops standing there, each with a hand on a weapon.  Blinking, she froze mid-brush. I probably shouldn’t offer them doughnuts, she thought.

“Good afternoon, officers.  Would you like to try the berry crumble?”  She gestured to the silver tray with the samples and bit back a laugh at their bewildered expressions.  Evidently, they’d expected to find her frothing at the mouth from the way the blonde was still carrying on outside to a fifth cop.  They probably hadn’t anticipated a woman who more resembled a librarian than a murderous beast.

[buriednurbckyrd]

Right In Front of You (1)

***Bucky hasn't had a rut since before the war, and now he has to accept that one is coming. He'll need to find an Omega mate but he can't help but wish he could ignore biology. Things would be so much easier if he were just a Beta like his best friend, Y/N.

...She is a Beta, right?***

The greenhouse was warm and fragrant.  Bucky took a deep breath and his lips curved into a peaceful smile.  He traced a fingertip over the petals of a delicate orchid, taking a moment to appreciate the vibrant colors around him.  She could have told him the names of all the different variates, and had several times with unending patience, but he would never remember them all.  He just liked to listen to her talk.  He looked around and focused on what he could hear but after a few moments realized that she wasn't inside the glass walls.  After a relaxed stroll through the plants he finally spotted the person he was looking for, she was outside on her hands and knees digging in a flowerbed.  

She wore a wide brimmed hat to shield her face from the sun, a pair of gardening gloves sat abandoned beside her.  She preferred to sink her hands into the soil and feel the earth.  But she would spend a fair bit of time that evening cleaning it from her under her fingernails, questioning why she didn't just keep the gloves on and save herself the tedious task.  He smiled again at the thought.

“Hey Y/N, what'cha planting?”  He called out.  She glanced up from her task.

“Lilies.  I found some beautiful ones at the farmer's market.  They were on sale for Mother's Day, but they don't need to know I'm keeping them for myself.”  She gestured at her truck, and he saw several pots of flowers sitting in the bed.  “They smell incredible and the bees really like them.”  

“Want me to carry the pots over here for you?”  He asked.  Y/N sat back on her heels and wiped her hands on her stained jeans.

“Getting all macho Alpha on me, JB?”  Her eyes sparkled with humor.  “Who do you think loaded them into the truck in the first place?”  Bucky rolled his eyes.

“I assume you batted your eyelashes and sweet talked some big strong man into doing it for you, ya pretty little Beta darlin'.”  She laughed in response and halfheartedly threw a clump of dirt in his direction.  

“Go get my flowers, you brute.”  She giggled.  He gave her a mock salute and sauntered off towards her truck.  

She showed him how to gently de-pot the lilies and plant them into the holes she had dug.  The two of them settled into the simple routine, gently teasing each other while they planted the flowers in their new home.  Bucky felt completely at ease with Y/N.  Underneath her outer layer of sass, she was kind and nurturing.  His gaze slide over to look at her covertly and smiled at the smudge of dirt on her cheek, probably from brushing her hair behind her ear.  He remembered how beautiful he had thought she was when Steve and Sam introduced them when he was finally welcomed to live at the Avengers compound.

…

“This is Y/N, Buck.”  Steve stepped aside so he could get a look at the woman behind him, she waved and said hello.  The first thing he noticed was her crooked grin beneath a pair of the most lovely pair of (color) eyes he had ever seen.  The second was her full figured body, curvy and soft; and obviously powerful.  When he failed to greet her in return her eyebrow arched.  

“Not what you were expecting?”  Her tone was pointed.  Sam chuckled and nudged Bucky in the ribs and he started.

“N-no!   I mean, hi.  It's nice to meet you.”  

“Don't worry about it, I'm used to being underestimated.”  She replied, tilting her chin upwards almost in challenge.  

“Oh boy, here we go.”  Sam muttered under his breath.  

“I'm not-” Bucky stuttered, eyes going wide.  Her expression narrowed and before he knew what has happening she picked up her heel and brought it down with a definite 'thump'.  A mild tremor went through the ground and knocked Bucky onto his butt.  

“Really Y/N?” Steve groaned.  “Here.”  He reached his hand down to Bucky, who was looking up at her in shock.  Before he could take his friend's hand she stalked over and smacked it aside, offering her own instead.  Her face had softened into a friendly smile.  

“Just a little initiation prank, Captain,” she reassured Steve.  “I think we're going to get along just fine, right Bucky?”  He eyed her curiously, but reached for her hand and stood up.  She didn't let go of him, her grip was firm and comforting.  He felt a slight shift in his chest, like his body already knew she was going to be very important to him. She squeezed his fingers and looked up at him with a soft expression.  “Come on, cutie pie.  I'll show you my green house.”

…

He held onto the memory of that day tightly. With his prewar past still incredibly foggy, and his HYDRA days a painful reality; the happy moments of his present were priceless treasures.  As they had walked around the plants that day she asked him no uncomfortable questions that she doubtless already knew most of the answers to.  Instead she gave him her own back story.  

Turned out and disowned by her family when her abilities manifested.  Taken in and forced to participate in brutal fights against other enhanced individuals.  Her stature and Beta status lulled opponents into a false sense of security until the full range of her powers were revealed.  He realized her 'prank' was a defense mechanism, left over from a life of abuse and manipulation.  No matter what people thought of how she looked she was capable of extraordinary things, and she wasn't going to give anyone the chance to ignore that fact.

“I love this!” Her happy exclamation brought him back from his reminiscing.  She was on her feet, hands planted on her wide hips as she surveyed the new flowers.  He unfolded his long legs to stand beside her, metal arm slung around her shoulders.  Neither of them made any mention that the casual contact with the vibranium appendage, something that would never have happened just a few months ago.  

“Looks great,” he said.  “Don't suppose you made any other stops at the market?”  He looked down at her with a sly grin.  She tapped her chin thoughtfully.  

“Hmm… I might have.  There's a good chance there's a box of cookies hidden in my room to share with my favorite Sargent.” He kissed the top of her head, missing the way her breath hitched in her throat.  

…

After showers to wash away the dirt and changing into clean, comfortable clothes the two of them were lounging on the oversized couch in her rooms with a white bakery box between them.  

“Mmm...” Bucky hummed happily as he bite into a soft chocolate chip cookie. “Too bad Shuri couldn't stick around to enjoy these.”  

“Aw, I missed her?  Why didn't you tell me she was coming?”  Y/N pouted. “I wanted to ask her if they have had any luck trying to reestablish the heart shaped herbs.”  The precious Wakanadan plants needed to be found and saved if at all possible, and Shuri had asked for Y/N's advice.  

“I didn't know she was going to here or I would have.  I think it was a last minute thing on their way to check up on the outreach center.  She wanted to see my latest blood panels.”  He paused reaching for another cookie.  Y/N rested her hand on his knee, concerned.

“Is there something wrong?”  He shook his head and dropped his hands into his lap, picking at his sweat pants.  

“No. But my hormone levels indicate that I'm going into a rut soon.” His voice was quiet.  Between being pumped full of suppressants and going in and out of cryo-freeze for decades, his Alpha cycle had gone dormant.  

“Oh.” She stared off in front of her.  “That's good, right?”  Her tone was trying to be optimistic.  “It means your body is starting to function normally.”  Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat.  

“Yeah, for sure.”  He said.  He rubbed at the nagging empty feeling in his chest.  His ruts starting meant it was time to find an Omega mate. His body required the bond between an Alpha and their Omega to satisfy his biological needs.  A disquieting air settled over the pair of them, something that never happened when they spent time together.  There weren't awkward silences between them, but neither one of them seemed to know what to say.  Y/N reached over and laced her fingers with his.  

“Well,” she said managing to keep the complicated emotions out of her voice. “I'll do whatever I can to help you through when it hits.”  Her smile was strained.  “Until you find...someone.”  His smile was equally tight and he squeezed her fingers.

***This will be minimal angst, just a sprinkle of conflict for the sake of plot. After Endgame (don't worry, no spoilers here!!) I'm in need of some nice fluff and sexy smut. Not sure how many chapters this will have yet, but it will probably be much shorter than my previous a/b/o fic, Necessary Paradox.***

next

[no-more-cream]

A New Moon (Part 2)

Part 1  ⤐ Part 2

genre: fluff/angst

werewolf!au

pairing: jimin x reader (f)

***cw: violence, fantasy, language, pregnancy***

a new moon is back, guys!!! after like three fucking years lmao 

i strongly suggest re-reading part one, as this is a direct continuation of it (linked above)

♡ , Admin J

“Why the fuck do you two smell like ____?”

Seokjin and Jungkook exchanged a quick glance, fighting the overwhelming urge to simply think, knowing all too well that they couldn’t, for your sake. Jin shouted out, “Jimin, calm down! You’re getting upset ove–” Before letting him finish, Jimin shoved his elder roughly into the wall behind him, all of the hairs on his neck standing up as he tensed his shoulders.

“Shut up and answer me! I want to know why the fuck you two reek of her scent,” Jimin’s stance began to stiffen, all of his muscles rippling, preparing himself to act out in any way to get the answer he wanted.

He heard.

Jimin heard Jungkook’s thought a couple of seconds ago, once Namjoon spoke of Jimin’s foul mood. Easily excused as an innocent “Oh shit,” now meant much more now, knowing of the boys’ previous whereabouts. Something much bigger was going on, and Jimin would find out one way or another.

Staring down at his elder, Jin only stared back, determined to not expose the truth. It wasn’t his nor Jungkook’s place to do that, and you were family. Keeping quiet, Jimin pushed Jin further into the wall, nearly leaving a large dent in the shape of his hyung’s body as he stepped away. Jimin’s piercing gaze now fell upon the younger as he released a low growl, when the others began to jump in.

Yoongi took a step forward, “Yah, Jimin, cut it out.”

At this, Jimin’s lip quivered, showing glimpses of his emerging canines, “Oh yeah? And what the fuck are you going to do if I don’t, hyung?” His harsh tone and rude speech only served to increase the tension by a tenfold, causing Jungkook to begin sweating in nervousness.

“You little punk, who do you think you’re referring to in that way?” Yoongi snapped, stepping towards Jimin, both of their chests raised steadily when suddenly, a strangely calm Hoseok stepped in, arms raised firmly in order to create peace, “All of you calm down! Firstly, we need to figure out what’s going on.”

He turned towards the maknae, “Care to explain?”

“Uh…” Jungkook glanced at Jin, looking for help, “You see, I really don’t think it’s my place to say, hyung…”

Jimin grabbed the younger by his shirt collar, raising him onto his toes with exquisite speed, “If you don’t fucking open your mouth and tell me what’s going on, I swear to God!”

Jungkook gulped, preparing to endure whatever consequences he had to, in order to maintain your secret. He considered you his sister, and would suffer anything for you, just as any of the boys would.

“Jimin, please!” Jin shouted, reached around to restrain the shorter man to the best of his abilities, which then Namjoon began to assist with.

“Just let me explain! We can’t tell you because ____ specifically asked us not to tell you.”

“She what?! What the fuck is going on? Why can’t I know?” Jimin growled, his shirt ripping at the seams from the strength of his muscles tensing beneath.

Worriedly, Jungkook spoke, “It’s for her own safety, hyung!”

“WHAT?”

And with that, Jimin was gone; out the door like a bolt of lightning while ripping the door off of one of its hinges in such bright fury.

Your safety. Your safety is in danger and those fuckheads kept their mouths closed? Are they insane? Jimin’s thoughts raced along with his heart, which pumped violently as he sprinted down several blocks in a mere minute. You were his mate, for God’s sake. He was beginning to feel heavier with each stride as he recalled the way you ignored him for the past two days.

Initially, he was only slightly annoyed, but that had turned into serious irritation when he noticed your blatant ignorance as you were clearly ‘Online’ on Facebook. He had acted petty, stupidly, and now the weight of it all began to crash around him as a plethora of different scenarios emerged in his mind of what could have happened to you.

Panting, he rushed up the stairs leading to your door, skipping nearly six steps at a time with his increased agility. The light-haired boy reached your front door and immediately began to pound onto it, “____?! ____, open the door! It’s me, Jimin! Baby, please, I’m so sorry,” he called out, forehead desperately leaning against the cold wood. He waited a few moments, listening carefully to see if he could hear your movements from inside of the apartment, when his ears perked up.

“_____! I know you’re in there! Please… I’m so sorry, j-just… please let me see you.”

You swallowed any ounce of saliva left in your mouth, hands quaking as you took one, single step towards your front door. You could see the cheaply built door vibrate with every bang of Jimin’s fist on the opposite side, and it seemed as if you could feel each individual tremor in your bones.

Was this really happening?

“Baby, please…” Jimin pleaded disheartened, growing more anxious by the second as he could physically hear your laboured breaths from the other side of the door.

“Are you at least okay? I’m really worried… I-- the boys, Jin-hyung and Jungkookie, said that something was going on that you asked them not to tell me about? About your safety? ______?” His voice was shaking, and you felt your heart breaking as you caved in. Wrapping your hand around the handle of the door, it never felt colder to you in your life, a shiver running its course through your body.

In one motion, you cracked the door open and took a step back, too afraid to fully expose yourself to Jimin, when he abruptly slammed the door all the way back using his supernatural strength. Before you could react to the sound of the slam, Jimin’s arms were wrapped tightly around your entire upper body as he caught his breath in the crook of your neck, “Baby, I’m so sorry. Please tell me what’s goin–“

Jimin froze.

The brunette took a step back while his arms remained attached to your shoulders, causing you to open your own eyes in confusion at his sudden change in demeanor. Looking at the man, you saw his face contort into an expression you had never seen him make before: a mixture of shock, worry, and delight.

“Jimin?” You whispered faintly, unsure what to say in the moment.

No response.

You were about to open your mouth to speak his name once more, when the werewolf suddenly dropped to his knees before you as his eyes remained glued to you.

But not at your eyes, Jimin was fixated on the area hidden by your loosely clad sleeping shirt, your stomach. Realizing where he was staring at, your hands instinctively dropped to cover your belly.

“Jimin, I–“

“You’re pregnant.”

You grimaced at the words, it sunk in deeper than before once you heard him say it. You were actually pregnant, and you had no words.

“I think so…”

He gasped softly, so tenderly, a sound you had never heard from Jimin before. Was he mad? Scared? What was he feeling?

“Is it mine?” He asked, steadily rising to his feet, his hands hovering over yours that you placed over your stomach. You chuckled, even at a time like this, the man could make you laugh.

“Yes, Jimin,” you smiled hesitantly, “Of course it’s yours.”

And with that, you found yourself suspended in the air, with Jimin’s arms wrapped around your middle as he hoisted you out the door.

“Wait, Jimin– Where are we going?” You called out, surprised by his sudden action. Hanging onto Jimin’s shoulders as he ran precariously down the sidewalk, you were thankful that it was nearly 3:00 am, otherwise you’d have no explanation for passersby of why Jimin was running through the streets like a madman with you tossed over his shoulder.

You were about to ask Jimin once more of your unknown destination when he took a sharp turn, and you realized that he was taking you in the direction of the dorm occupied by werewolves.

In a matter of seconds, you two were in front of the dorm, and you saw the door swing open, due to Hoseok, before you and Jimin entered the shared apartment. All of the boys remained awake even at this hour; all of their eyes fixed on you as Jimin walked into the living room, gently lowering you down onto the ottoman. By now, they all knew about your pregnancy and were in equal states of shock, save for Jimin who turned around towards his packmates as soon as he sat you down in your seat with deep anxiety etched into his features.

“Is this even possible?” He began to pace the room back and forth as his brothers stared silently at him, unsure how to answer, when Namjoon spoke up.

“Well, I’ve read about similar instances, but I figured it was just lore…” His eyebrows furrowed as he began to recall his readings.

Jimin’s ears perked up, “And?” Namjoon shook his head.

“Hyung, please,”  Jimin was nearly begging, eyes overwhelming with pain as his thoughts raced in apprehension. A werewolf-human relationship was extremely rare and taboo in the werewolf community. For one, it put every werewolf in danger of the truth being exposed to the general public, and who knew what would dreadful outcomes that would have. But of course… it was inevitable. It is known, a mere handful of werewolves across the globe, who consorted with humans. However, nobody had heard of a werewolf-human hybrid child. Not one of the boys.

Pregnancy, even between two powerful werewolves, was terribly difficult and painful on the female, as birth was executed in their human form, giving birth to several pups. Now… a human giving birth to an assortment of werewolf babies, who were already stronger than the average human at the time of birth… That scared Jimin. He was petrified, his thoughts racing over similar thoughts, all shared with his pack mates.

They were all worried for your life.

Nevertheless, you sat on the ottoman dumbfounded, simply reading the rigid air of the room.

Namjoon’s eyes met yours, too afraid to speak of what the lore read, but you needed to hear the truth. And judging by the too calm vibe you had, he figured you were starting to give into the idea of having, keeping, this pregnancy. You couldn’t do that.

“She’s going to die, Jimin.” He whispered, barely audible. It took you a few seconds to register what Namjoon said, but once you did, your heart jolted at the sound of Hoseok shouting, “Yah! Namjoon, don’t say that!”

Yoongi intervened, “It’s the truth. I’ve heard that, too. A werewolf-human child cannot be sustained in a human mother.”

Jimin stood frozen to the hardwood floor, his eyes fixated on you, unmoving.

“I don’t want _____ to get hurt..” Taehyung spoke, as Seokjin made his way to the ottoman you were sitting on, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, “We’re going to help you, _____.” He turned to Jimin, “I think you know what needs to happen.”

Jimin shifted his gaze to your eyes, finally coming to his senses and breathing in the reality of the situation like a toxic gas, he rushed towards you, crouching in front of your legs as he gripped your hands tightly.

“_____, I’m-- I’m going to figure out how to fix this. I’m going to get that thing out of you.”

You felt electricity run down your spine, all of the hairs on your arms standing up in response. Was it true? Was this baby going to kill you? You shook your head, lowering your focus to your stomach. Releasing your hands from Jimin’s hold, you moved them to cup your abdomen, feeling warmth resonating from the site.

“No,” you began, “No, you’re not.”

aaaaa let me know if i’m going too hard with the excessive italics + any other constructive criticism

and sorry for the looooooooooong hiatus (if you can even call it that)

enjoy!

Admin J

[porchwood]

Cupid & Psyche!Gadge Drabble

Because someone will inevitably assume (since I managed to write something): no, things are not better. Lucky’s heart issues have stabilized, more or less, for which I’m immensely grateful, but now we’re looking at $$ tests to see if she might have Cushing’s disease (which I don’t even want to think about) and we’ve been adding acupuncture (yes, again) to try to ease her stubborn separation anxiety - at $65 a pop. To top it off, she hurt one of her front legs somehow on Thursday (and has a slight but persistent limp, which seems to respond fairly well to her CBD drops), so we’re monitoring to see if an x-ray/professional assessment is needed. :(

And let’s not even get into all the non-dog worries. 

Okay, now that that’s out of the way, here’s what happened on the writing front yesterday. I’ve been getting back into Greek mythology lately and was kicking around the idea of writing a few (VERY BRIEF) drabbles with various pairings in fave myths. (Seriously, Janek/Raisa/Jack as Theseus/Ariadne/Dionysus - with Raisa’s twin Luka as the Minotaur - is the best idea I have yet to write!) Because I love Cupid and Psyche wildly, I was contemplating various pairings that might fit the bill (not in lieu of Honey-God, mind - in addition to!) and of course, Gadge was top of the list. As it was my day off, I made myself a latte and crawled back in bed with Lucks, but before I let myself crack open the next book in my pile, I wanted to quickly type up a paragraph or so of ideas I had for Cupid and Psyche!Gadge.

Somehow, three hours later I had about 4600 words. I haven’t written like that in longer than I can remember. It’s still extremely unpolished and may never get finished, but that seems to be forgivable in rapidly written drabbles, and I thought I’d share it here just in case anyone’s interested. (Tagging @kat-of-a-different-color and @feelingjane in particular as I thought you might like to see this. ❤) And lest ye worry: there is no Galeniss here, just Gale thinking he has everything figured out. ;)

Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps. - Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing

Contrary to other accounts, his mother was not vain or jealous; indeed, she was an ordinary domestic goddess – if powerful and remarkably beautiful to look upon – who thought nothing of pausing on her way to wash the soiled underthings of an ailing beggar.

He had never enjoyed his vocation in any part. After all, the birds and beasts managed these things every season without his interference. The female chose whoever won – often, whoever survived – the fight. Whoever made the most magnificent display. Whoever offered the finest gift, or prepared the loveliest home.

But humans, tiresome creatures, wanted love – affection, tender feelings, right at the outset. Oh, some accepted that these things came later, with offspring and a secure living, and would take the match that parents and practicality presented. A girl impatient to leave her father’s house could do no better than a virile widower, and a plump plain woman made a finer wife than any beauty, who would turn no fewer heads as a mother than she did as a maiden. When humans remained stubbornly blind he would intercede as needed, but more often than not, he was unconcerned with the outward appeal of the match to the individuals involved. Their progeny was of primary significance, though they knew it not, and while Galen could not read the future, he had witnessed centuries of the outcomes of wild pairings and knew that reproductive compatibility was integral to the success of a match.

Naturally, he approached his own match with a similar pragmatism. He had observed her for several years, for she came often to the woods, and as an immortal, he might grow impatient but never hasty, for he had all the time in the world. She was of exceptional stock – a wise, beautiful herbalist mother and a strong, clever hunter father – and, since her father’s untimely death a few years before, had proven herself an entirely capable survivor, as adept at hunting and foraging as any wild thing.

Perhaps she was, he considered with a frown, not fully ripened. Oh, she was of an age to wed and bed and bear, but she was still so very small and slight, with next to none of the curves that implied fecundity. Her grandsire had been similarly ill-favored, he recalled, and her stubborn granddam soon saw where that lead. Galen had regretted this half-century that he had not claimed Ashpet the huntress for his mate, for she had been a veritable mountain lioness, lithe and fierce and so very beautiful, but his mother had put her foot down – and her distaff, across his knuckles – and sternly commanded that this lady be allowed to make her own match, and he not consider her for another moment.

His mother had thus far made no similar protest against Katniss, and Galen was anxious to act, for as he had witnessed in that cosmic mis-match some fifty years past, he could be subverted by men who courted like birds. Asa the weakling – Ashpet had saved him from a mountain lioness, by all that was holy! – had wooed almost entirely as a bird, presenting his beloved with bright bits of ribbon and shiny objects, and though outwardly unyielding, she spent the duration of that courtship secretly laying up stores of lavish provisions and – to Galen’s utter shock – veritably threw herself into the weakling’s reedy arms when he finally caught her at it.

His urge to act upon Katniss, the little huntress, was motivated by a similar scenario. A baker’s son – the youngest of three; a solid match, if not a fine one – had been watching her since childhood and had slowly, carefully commenced a courtship both bird-like and appealing to a bird, like a hermit in the woods with a loaf of bread, patiently drawing a curious sparrow to eat from his hand. Katniss was much wilder than any sparrow, but there had been none to provide for her since her father’s death, and the baker’s youngest son – a stout, strong youth – was almost desperate to take on the office, with his surreptitious gifts of bread and apples and coal.

The blackbird’s heart was not yet affected, Galen was certain, but she was pragmatic like himself, and winter was drawing nigh. The baker’s youngest son would be warmer than any bricks in her bed, and his family was a fit and fruitful line. Mating was mating, he told himself with a scowl, and whatever gestures came before – kisses, caresses, and the like – only prepared the bodies for a successful copulation, but still he bristled at the thought of that broad blond boy covering the little huntress like a stag, of the gasps and pleasant cries she would utter beneath him, and the babes that would fill her womb as a result.

Pregnancy would ripen her hills and valleys, Galen decided, and he could truly wait no longer. He reached into his pack for a coil of sharp golden wire, then paused – at a scent, not a sound: lilacs, heady and purple and entirely out of season – and huffed with displeasure, for once again, his quarry was not hunting alone.

For reasons that he could not comprehend, a friendship had risen up between his huntress and the only daughter of the village mayor, a friendship that saw his huntress now and again donning pretty frocks and spending time indoors at idle nicities like book-reading and playing that enormous piece of furniture called a piano – which, he supposed, he could allow, for her father had been both musician and storyteller – but what was more, and far worse: his huntress often brought the mayor’s daughter into the woods with her. She had taught that girl – a girl whose table would never be empty, even if she married a beggar – to wield a bow with deadly force, though the huntress did all the butchering herself, sparing her companion’s eyes and fine pale hands.

The mayor’s daughter, though wealthy by human standards, was of far inferior stock to his huntress. Her father was slight and balding – though he was not yet old – and had willing sired only one child upon his delicate, perpetually ailing wife, who had once been a twin and never recovered from the untimely loss of her other half. Twins were a fine legacy to marry into, Galen allowed – two strong offspring where others produced only one – but the baker’s wife had also been a twin, and therefore Katniss’s suitor offered such a possibility in his bloodline.

He would have to act swiftly indeed.

The mayor’s daughter – perpetually scented with lilacs as she was – lagged a little behind today, collecting the last of the acorns not claimed by bolls or squirrels, while the huntress moved noiselessly on with her bow. They would meet up soon, however, so there was no time to waste. 

Invisible against the trunk where he watched and waited, Galen shaped the snare-loop with the practiced ease of centuries. They would wed today and bed tonight. Everything was prepared. His lodge swept clean by his mother’s hearth-maidens, fires laid, a feast to be prepared as soon as he gave the word. His den blanketed with the plushest furs – for he had never done this either, though the process seemed simple enough, and he had observed through the centuries that a few creature comforts served both parties well, most especially in the first union. He would feed her and groom her and mount her – carefully, of course, for she was such a small thing – and when he had planted his seed he would lay her in the furs and nuzzle her bare throat, for she would be his then, sated and submissive to such a vulnerable gesture.

Unless, he thought with a frown, she was a great cat like her granddam, and should pull away with a snarl when their mating was complete. Galen’s heart was not set upon the little tendernesses that seemed to follow so naturally on the heels of a successful copulation, but the spilling of seed seemed to drain both gods and men, and remaining upon and inside his naked mate as his vitality returned seemed a surpassing pleasant prospect.

Attraction was an irksome thing to Galen, for it sprang up untimely – where he had neither time nor interest – and while he wanted the little huntress for several reasons, simple carnal hunger was least among them. He turned sharply away from the sight of her slender shape melting among the trees and gasped at a sudden pain lancing the tip of his right trigger finger.

Some fool snake had bitten him – its last act, he thought with bitter relish, for immortal blood was more deadly to beasts than any venom – and he glanced down to see not a serpent but the razor golden wire of his snare slicing a thin, shallow line across the fingertip.

He cursed soft and viciously and looked about him, frantic for the retreating back of the huntress. He could pursue her, of course, but anyone he saw in the process would capture his devotion, and while there were few folk in the woods at any given moment, there was currently at least one other –

“Katniss?” called the mayor’s daughter quietly – a hush entirely suitable for one in the woods – and Galen cursed again, bitterly, because that one word in her voice yanked at his heart like a lead rope. If he looked at her, all would be lost, yet every fiber of his being was already straining to do so.

For reasons he had never understood, heart-snares were especially powerful on immortals.

“Katniss, I believe I have found the roots you wanted,” she called in a slightly louder voice, and there was a smile in it now.

Galen ground his back against the rough bark, hoping the discomfort might cut through the longing, and gritted his teeth, even as his loins stirred, delighted by the prospect of mating after centuries of being impatiently suppressed and ignored. The idiot girl – the lovely, darling, supple, stunning idiot – was drawing nearer, and he realized she had not seen the direction in which the huntress departed. He had invariably made some small sound to draw her attention – for he was invisible only, not silent – or perhaps she had heard his quiet curses and thought it was her friend behind the tree, struggling with roots of her own.

“For the pigment,” she added, her voice – sweet and silky as cream – so near she was surely upon him, and Galen squeezed his eyelids as tightly as he could, against every urge in him screaming to the contrary. If he did not look, perhaps it was not too late.

Her skin smelled of goat’s milk soap and dried lavender, and the heady pulse of lilacs from the hollow of her throat, beneath her ears and between her breasts was almost overwhelming. Heavy purple buds bursting into clusters of fragrant blooms after a winter’s gestation, and her belly would be ripe when they blossomed if he planted himself in her now, tonight, in that den of lush furs…

“For your sweetheart,” said the mayor’s daughter with an impatient little laugh and rounded the tree, and Galen’s eyes snapped open in consternation, for his huntress – for one last stubborn moment he clung to her in his mind – surely had no sweetheart.

The mayor’s daughter looked into his eyes and gave a little start, not because she saw him but because she saw no one, where surely her friend must be. “Katniss,” she called again, puzzled, and walked away, and it took every ounce of Galen’s immortal might not to follow her.

He was livid, in love, and raging with longing. She was beautiful – even pragmatically he could admit as much – still slender in a maiden’s fashion, but soft swells peaked the front of her dress, and her skin was all silk and cream, like her voice. Wavy fair hair – not black like his own, like the huntress’s – tied back with a pink ribbon, deft pale hands smudged with earth, and her breath was fragrant with the wild strawberries she loved; for which she had first braved the woods, and which might still be found in hidden places.

Hidden places – how he craved to bare her belly and buttocks, to uncover those soft swells upon her chest! Breasts might be no mystery, not to the son of a domestic goddess, and every mother presents a nipple for her young to suckle from, but he had never seen this girl’s, and their capacity for suckling infants suddenly became secondary to how they might feel beneath his fingers.

He tore off in search of his mother and found her in the humble pavilion at the heart of her sacred hazel grove, mending the trousers of some supplicant, and she clucked at his wound, shaking her head even as she set aside her work for a little roll of clean linen. “You are too impatient with your knives,” she chided.

“This came not from a knife,” he retorted. “I cut myself with the golden wire.”

His mother’s countenance brightened at this, though she endeavored to restrain a smile. “Had you shaped the snare already?” she wondered, though it was clear from her manner that she knew the answer well enough.

“I was distracted for but a moment,” he snapped, drawing his hand away as she made to wrap the finger. “Don’t bind it – heal it. Take it away.”

She laughed at last, both delightedly and uproariously. “Oh my son, you know better than anyone that such is beyond the power of any god! Come, she cannot be so very loathsome, and you love her already.”

“It was the wrong maiden,” he groaned, but in resignation now, more than rage. “Two there were, and the huntress moved out of sight.”

“So it is Myron-the-Mayor’s daughter,” his mother realized, and to his horror, nodded approval. “Katniss would not have suited, darling one. She was too like you to begin with, and already she loves the baker’s youngest son. Did not you know this?”

He thought of the mayor’s daughter’s words, of the pigment for Katniss’s sweetheart, and his brow darkened. “But I laid no snare for her, and most assuredly not toward him,” he insisted.

“And like her granddam, she was tamed like a bird,” his mother soothed. “The baker’s son loved her without your help as well; it happens often enough, as you know, and he will make her the happiest of women. They will bear strong, lovely children.”

“She was to bear strong, lovely children with me,” Galen groused, but petulantly, as a child who covets another’s toy even as he holds his favorite in his hands.

“And had you snared her, she would have swiftly come to resent you,” his mother explained, “for you do not perpetually smell of bread, nor have you the patient tenderness of that gentle baker’s boy.”

“I do not smell of lavender and goat’s milk neither,” he said dryly. “I am not some perfumed popinjay, as the mayor’s child will surely wish.”

“Her name is Madeline, and the sooner your tongue embraces it, the better,” his mother urged, but merrily. “To resist the draw will only exhaust you while delaying the inevitable, and besides, consider the company she chose: a slim dark huntress who smells of loam and pine, and as like you as a sister.”

“Hardly,” Galen snorted, for he had a sister who, while small and dark and lovely, was decidedly more delicate in her ways than the huntress would ever be. But the struggle with his newborn love and longing was painful now; it had spread all the way to his toes and fingertips and the very roots of his hair, and his mind – repeating No, not her! over and over again in a cannon-like roar – was like a castle under siege, powerless and defeated, with only shouts of fury and protest left to volley.

His mother pressed the linen firmly against his cut fingertip and murmured, “Love her, Galen, for you do already. I know the lodge was prepared this day; I will bring her there tonight, and a holy man to perform the rite. Your body knows what will happen next, and there will be such joy in it. Mate with your wife and seed her with the babes you long for.”

“I will not,” he whispered, but weakly, for now he could think of little else.

“I will bring her at dusk, and the holy man,” his mother answered patiently, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You may arrive whenever you like, but she will lie in your den tonight.”

Galen stormed off into the woods, rebellious to the last, but his deft hands found wild strawberries wherever he passed and he stuffed his pockets with the small bright fruits. I shall make a breakfast of them, he told himself crossly, but he knew it would pain him to consume even one when his beloved – curses, for now so she was! – loved them so. He would guide each tiny crimson bead between her soft lips; perhaps bring her to bed in such a fashion – or after, when they were spent with mating, would keep her there thus.

Would she be receptive, he wondered suddenly, to the marriage or even, simply, to him? Galen knew himself to be uncommonly handsome, but this did not always ensure pleasure in a match, nor indeed, in the mating. And only he had been affected by the snare; she might look on him with revulsion, as sometimes brides did when they were given no choice in their union.

Madeline… His mind flinched even as it shivered with bliss at the name. He would not call her that, nor think of her thus.

Madge, he determined. A quick, rough, grunt of a diminutive with none of those exquisite undulations of the additional syllables. She wanted to be a woodswoman; Madge suited such a one just fine.

He plucked autumn roses from climbing briars and hummed vigorously to drive the exquisite melody of Mad-e-line, Mad-e-line! from the delighted shadows of his mind, and without quite realizing how, he found himself – rendered invisible once more – standing in the village square, just outside the mayor’s house.

He drew up to the parlor window and looked within, where his mother, wasting no time, addressed the mayor, his wife, and Madel – Madge! – on a sofa. His beloved had exchanged her woodswoman’s weeds for a pretty white dress, almost as though she had anticipated this meeting, or what must follow it, and she was frowning thoughtfully at whatever his mother was saying.

Hazelle, of course, had not presented her true self to them but was neatly outfitted as dowager of means, and Galen pressed his ear to the glass, curious what she was saying to obtain this maiden for him by day’s end. But in so doing, he saw that there was another occupant in the room: a youth – the butcher’s youngest son, cousin to the baker’s; every bit as gentle and twice as merry. It had amused Galen now and again to think of setting this boy’s heart upon the unattainable village beauty, a seamstress’s daughter, but he had never bothered to set the snare, and suddenly he realized that this boy, like his cousin, might have courted of his own volition and even been accepted.

Was he already Madeline – MADGE’S! – intended?

The pane shattered with the force of Galen’s jealousy and he leapt with supernatural swiftness to avoid the shards, neatly vaulting into the parlor.

“What on earth?” the girl exclaimed, eyes wide, though she did not seem afraid, and she stepped forward to investigate the broken window.

Galen, still invisible, drew back soundlessly and as near the sill as he could, but still she stood face-to-face with him, though once more she knew it not. Her eyes were a soft shade of blue, like little glimpses of sky on a cloudy day, and her lips parted slightly – exquisitely – at a thought.

It was all he could do not to take her in his arms and discover why lovers so enjoyed pressing their mouths together.

“Again,” she mused, frowning at the place where he stood then, curiously, over her shoulder at his mother. “Twice today no one was where someone should be,” she remarked, returning to her parents. “In the woods this morning and now again, at the window, and I smell the woods as though I stood in their midst.”

“He that would wed you lives in the very heart of the woods,” Hazelle volunteered with a small, shrewd smile, for she knew full well why the glass had shattered and why the mayor’s daughter suddenly smelled the woods in her parlor. “Perhaps you anticipate him already, or the home you would share.”

“With respect to the lady,” interjected the butcher’s son, stepping between Hazelle and the mayor’s daughter, “this is an impossible proposition. Wedded tonight in some stranger’s home, with no family present or welcome.”

“Your village priest will officiate,” Hazelle reminded them – perhaps a little hastily, sensing her son’s jealousy ascending once more. “I will ensure his transport both ways, and he will assure you that all is well.”

“I have no right to protest,” the butcher’s son declared, and looked very much as though he wished to take the girl’s hands in his own as he gazed at her. “For all my esteem and affection, there is no understanding between us, but I present myself as an alternative just the same.”

“You know I adore you, Judah,” said Galen’s beloved, and she leaned forward to kiss the butcher’s son on one cheek.

Something snapped in Galen’s mind at this gesture, and he would have shattered every lamp in the house had his mother not silently stayed him with her steady gaze.

“But we are not for each other,” the girl went on gently. “There is another you mean most earnestly to court, and for my part, I would meet this strange bridegroom.”

“But you cannot change your mind if you like him not,” her father cautioned. “We have only this – estimable,” he added with a deferential bow of the head, “lady’s assurances; the man himself would not come to meet you, let alone to offer his hand!”

“He could not,” Hazelle remarked wryly. “For he is overcome by the force of his feelings, so swiftly kindled at the sight of your daughter, and feared he should lose all grace and eloquence in her presence. His love for you is presently like a thunderstorm,” she told the girl. “Loud and furious, but by eventide it will have blown itself out into a gentle rainfall.”

Madeline – Madge, sweet Madge – considered these words as Galen held his breath. She did not want the butcher’s boy – blessed day! – but his mother had spoken truly. He was furious with love for her, and furious for loving her, and perhaps eventide was too optimistic an interval.

But the mayor’s daughter extended one fine white hand to Hazelle, and it was all Galen could do not to stride across the room and kiss each finger in turn. “I look forward to meeting the storm that is your son,” she said graciously, and Galen’s heart leapt halfway out of his chest. “Allow me to dress for the journey, and I shall meet you outside the home of the priest.”

Once departed from the parlor, Madeline’s composure crumbled to dust. She adored Judah just as she had said; they had been friends since childhood, and he would have made the very finest of husbands, just as Peeta was shortly to become for Katniss. Whatever had possessed her to shake hands with this mysterious lady from many villages hence, who offered a bridegroom she was not allowed to meet or even see till their nuptials – to take place this very eve?

Because you love the woods, came the answer from somewhere deep inside her. The dowager’s son was a huntsman, with a lodge in the heart of a private woods; this alone would have drawn her powerfully, but again and again the dowager spoke of love and longing – and matter-of-factly, as though these were simple things to observe and quantify.

Madeline had never been loved by a man, let alone wildly, let alone a huntsman of great means with a lodge in a private woods, and the prospect made her tremble with anticipation.

The dowager had caught her wrist ere she could depart and murmured, so gently, He will want children, and soon. Can you consent to that as well?

He will be my husband, she had answered, in a voice steadier than she had thought she could muster in response to such a statement. I cannot promise success or speed in conception, but I would naturally consent to his attempts.

She thought now of these attempts as she filled a satchel with her precious bottle of lilac water, the little cake of lavender soap made by Katniss’s sister, clean underthings, hair ribbons, and her pretty white dress, as she exchanged it for the woolen one she had worn in the woods this morning. The huntsman might prefer her thus arrayed, and it would be easier to demonstrate her small prowess in the woods in such garb, did he seek for it.

The dowager, a striking woman, declared that her son was surpassing handsome to look on, and as she was surely of an age with the mayor and his wife, the huntsman could scarcely be older than Madeline herself. No gouty graybeard, then, and a huntsman could hardly be corpulent.

Madeline had never even drawn close to a man before, save for the moment in the parlor when she kissed Judah’s cheek, and she shivered at the thought of a huntsman’s dexterous hands on her body.

At that selfsame moment, Galen also trembled at the very same thought, for, unable to tear himself from his beloved’s presence, he had followed, unseen, to her bedroom and watched almost desperately as she undressed to her shift, then donned the rough woolen dress she had been wearing when first he loved her. The linen undergarment was not so very thin, but there were perceptible peaks beneath the bodice, and the material lay close against the soft contours of her hips, and he ached and raged at the sight, and what it evoked in him.

He would mate with her tonight, he conceded, but he would not linger when the act was done, nor offer any caresses beyond those necessary to bring their bodies together. He would not hurt her, of course, for angry as he was, he loved her like his own flesh, but he would leave it to his mother’s hearth-maidens to tend her before and after. She would not even need to see him…

She would not even need to see him!

Somehow, this epiphany soothed him like no thoughts of love had yet managed to do. Between the natural darkness of nightfall and the invisibility he could assume at will, this girl he most ardently did not want to love would never look on him. He would be hidden from her entirely – even within her arms, if so he chose!

He wanted her with all his might, and loved her with every fiber of his being, and he desperately wanted none of it.

He knew that the huntress was no longer a possibility, though the grief of that realization had quickly dulled to simple disappointment, for he had not truly loved her, merely sought her for how well she would suit him. No, in this moment Galen most assuredly did not want to love anyone at all, ever, but alas, his heart was caught and held between the fine white hands that were presently closing and shouldering the satchel.

[alitheamateur]

The Grind- Chapter 27

Warnings: Violence. Language.

I had put it for a week time of vacation from the office beginning three days from fight night. I wanted, more so needed, to spend hours upon hours at Temple Fitness racking up as much ring practice as possible, making time with my parents slim while they visited. I was barely maintaining weight, so lavish dinners were out of the question, and I had no intentions of slacking to attend a game, or other local sights with them, no matter how much I fought myself internally. However, with The Pilot being one less worry for a few days, I could work out early, notching several devoted hours under my belt, then cut out around late afternoon for some family time with Colt and my visiting parents.

Today, despite my steadfast arguments, they came in to observe how my routine played out with training. Tia was available for the day, so the crew and myself decided it’d be best apt for my now crucial preparations to let her play into the role of sparring partner. Stepping in with Colton was better suited for educational, phycological reasons seeing as he was the most seasoned member of my corner roster. But with Tia, a fellow female, things could get more physically involved, and squaring up with her would simulate more relative to the possibilities with my unfamiliar opponent.

“Well, were you surprised when you saw your parents? You had to suspect him doing all that.” Tia spoke while mirroring some of my stretches.

“I was absolutely clueless, T. I’m actually sorta glad they’re here, to be honest.”

“The fucker pestered me all week about ‘making sure I do this’ and ‘don’t forget to say that.’ He was wound tight, I know that.” she rolled her eyes with a puffing exhale.

I was warmed at the realization of how seemingly decent the usual ignitable pair had worked together to execute the planning without a hiccup. But, I strategically kept the sappy gushes inside my own private thoughts, knowing Tia would whine and baulk at the subject. Throughout training, Colton and she kept on their most polite behavior (well, ‘best behavior’ for those two thick-skulled, impetuous individuals, let’s say) and only nearly killed the other once. The tumultuous exchange was something vaguely involving the weight of gloves, and Colton wanting to trim the bout down to only 3 rounds. Cal snarled that the two of them should just have it out in the cage and settle things the only way they knew how, and end the ongoing ‘dick measuring contest’ as he put it, for everyone’s sanity.

“Well thanks, Tia. For helping him out and doing your part. I’m sure he’s grateful.” I assured her lightheartedly, turning back to face her as she followed me under the dipped open ring rope.

“He gave me 50 bucks, and he may’ve even said ‘thank you’ or somethin’. It’s whatever. I did it for you, LC. Not him. So, don’t start with those doe-y eyes.” She spat lightening defenses behind baring teeth.

Tia and I danced our usual relaxed waltz around each other when Willow gave the go-ahead, Colton standing arms crossed on the outside of the ropes, and my parents seated in cushioned stools from the therapists’ office. Riled grunts, and the forceful air whips of efforted swings fell upon listening ears as my partner tested me with slivered eyes. I kept my hands fastened meticulously near my nose to protect it from any unforeseen assaults and ducked quickly to try and take Tia’s legs. With my face now downward turned and arms opened to attack, my skull was only for a fleeting second left unprotected, leaving me to suffer the costs.

The bridge of my nose was met to Tia’s apparently very solid kneecap, and my teeth nearly gnashed my gummy-like tongue in half. A black explosion resembling an abstract firework filled my retinas, and suddenly I got the irresistible urge to nap. Unconsciousness threatened me, but by some luck I only teetered the line and never fully fell into its’ caress. Once the haze cleared and colors were recognizable again, a crimson flow dispersed like melted butter underneath my rested, near lifeless body.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT, TIA?!! FUCK!! Have you lost your damn mind?!” Colton’s stinging shrieks echoed through the entire gym like a wild, murderous banshee.  

He verbally attacked Tia with persevering hysteria, spitting venomous strings of saliva into her detached, cold face. I couldn’t swear to it, but I was pretty certain those thumping veins on both sides of his neck were almost rupturing beneath his flesh. This was the wicked, sinful anguish that he always cautioned me was living inside him, and it had clawed it’s way to the light of day for the world to see.

“She’s gotta be more careful than that, Ritter. I was just trying to make her understand what could happen to her. She needs to understand that Katrina wants to hurt her, she’s gonna be out for blood. It was harsh, but I’m not sorry.” Tia shrugged haphazardly upon her explanation. Her words resonated just enough to piss me off to extreme measures, and make complete, and total sense.

I’m not even sure Colt comprehended her controversial explanation, nor the fact that she was even talking at all, as he hurled his weight in entirety to the ground beside me. He pulled off his t-shirt, doubling it as a rag to soak up some of the blood pool I was gurgling face down in. I sat up without assistance and felt undeniably woozy trying to hold up my head that now felt like the weight of a bowling ball. This instance was the closest I’d ever came to being knocked out, and I tried to process all the strange aftereffects while my fiercely concerned boyfriend gently moved my noggin around by the chin to observe the motion of my eyes.

“Livvy, baby? Hey, look at me, okay. Do you know where ya’ are? What’s my name, sweetheart?” He stroked repetitively on top of my head, clearing the hair from my eyes.

“I’m fine, Colt. Calm down, I don’t even think it’s broken,” I faked a smile hoping to lower the intensity of his brimming adrenaline.

Upon rising onto my own two very unsure feet, I fell dizzily into the wall of Colton’s warm-fleshed chest, and heard a gasping wince come from my perceiving left. Mom was standing at the foot of the ring, resting one hand there to balance her alarmed body, and the other squeezed over her mouth to try and kill the desire to sob. A collision with another player on the court, or the routine ‘floor burn’ to the knees had been common happenings throughout my childhood. But, seeing their flesh and blood, only child being unforgivingly rocked to the face by a bare, violent knee was a sight any parent would struggle with.

“Cal, grab the doc for me, will ya’?” Willow gestured a thumb to the direction of the Temples’ on-staff physician’s office down the hall. “Think we oughta go ahead and have her checked for concussion symptoms.”

“Ah, for fucks sake. Everybody needs to calm the hell down! She’s fine. Just give her a minute to get her bearings. You feel ok, Liv. Right?”

Was she trying to convince me, the other obviously concerned witnesses, or herself? My thoughts may have moved through my head at the speed of hot glue oozing stubbornly from the tip of a gun, but moving, nonetheless. I tried rationalizing with Tia’s abrupt, reckless attack, and the more I searched for some sense on the moment the angrier I grew. My match was one hand count of days away, and she thought reasonable to risk breaking my nose, or giving me an unnecessary concussion? It was irresponsible, thoughtless, and frankly downright asinine. Fury, combined with the pulsating echoes of pain from my throbbing nose, and the effort it took just to try and use simple brain power had me feeling like a smashed bug on the grill of a semi.

“Take me home, Colt. Please… I need a bath, and a bottle of anything to put me out for 36 hours.” I whined, erratically batting my eyelids trying to adjust to the seemingly now high voltage lighting of the room.

Any healing wounds I may have recognized up to this point between Colton and Tia was a very distant memory now. My fearless mate would shred anyone who he may have viewed as even a potential enemy, much less an individual he just witnessed almost knock me needlessly unconscious.

“We gotta have doc check ya’ out, Liv. He can probably get ‘chu somethin’ for the pain, too.” Colton answered softly, continuing his attempts to clean the crusting, web of blood all over my face and crane of my neck. “Then, I promise I’m gonna take you home and put you straight in the tub for a soak in some’a those fizzy things you always buyin’, ‘ight?”

The hurt of my swelling nose was too much of a distraction for me to completely bask in all the ways I knew my loyal man would be coddling me the upcoming days.

 Amidst the doctors’ perpetual astonishment, I passed his exam and questioning with flying colors, and he dismissed me that night with the green light to go about my evening as normal. Thankfully, despite my nose not being in fact broken, he instructed me to ice as much as I could physically stand and prescribed me a gentle painkiller for the soreness and headaches to come. Tia lingered idly in the training room until I packed up for the evening and let my panicked with concern mother hold my hand through the exit. I didn’t so much as bother her with a second look nor give her the satisfaction of a goodbye, still feeling grudgingly nauseous with her very inexistence.

The nose injury came with barely noticeable plum-shaded bruising in the corners of my eyes that covered easily with a thicker application of concealer. The swelling had ceased due to the repetitive regime of icing and anti-inflammatories, so I didn’t have to see the light of day looking like a complete ogre. Weigh-ins were the first excuse I had to force Colton to allow me out of the house after remaining under his watchful, loving eye, and the smothering care of my parents as well. I not dare complain or push aside their gracious concerns for me, so I politely smiled, thanked, and kissed the obvious appropriate party and focused on the fight.

The event of my weigh-in was no where closely related the ones I was used to writing about for work, and probably wouldn’t even be categorized as an event to begin with. There was no hype or advertising buzz floating around the streets for the fight between Kat and myself, so a big to-do with our weight checks seemed definitely unnecessary. Colton suggested a simple meeting at Temple Fitness with a well-respected referee from Pittsburgh, my team, and my opponents the Friday  evening before we were scheduled for a dance in the cage.

My parents arguably agreed to wait back at the house after I reasoned we’d only be gone for a couple hours, give or take. Mom insisted on concocting my favorite pot of always delicious jambalaya for a late dinner after my numbers had been approved for competition. My mouth seeped in anticipation with thoughts of the steaming pot as we made the turn into the gyms’ lot around 7:00 that evening.

“What the hell is she doin’ here, Liv. Did you tell ‘er to come?” Colton scowled and spat seeing Tia’s car parked near the street light in the parking lot. I felt his grip under my fingers stiffen at the mention of her name.

“She’s probably just here working out. Or, Willow mentioned it to her. Either way, just let it be, babe. Please? Let’s just do what we came here to do and get out calmly in one piece. Deal?”

His silence amongst bull like puffing from his nostrils alluded those weren’t exactly his intensions if Tia decided to make herself known tonight. A short-film of the two hotheads beating each other bloody looped in my mind.

“Ritter………” I pressured him sternly, demanding he agree to my terms.

“I hear you, baby. But, I’m tellin’ ya, if she starts that mouthy shit I ain’t promisin’ ya’ I can control myself.”

We parked, and I marched straight for the locker room for one last bathroom break before stepping up to the scales. I felt confident in the discipline I kept with my diet, and my dedicated hours on the weights, but now that the moment had arrived, self-doubt rolled in like a spring thunderstorm. I shed whatever bladder continents I had left, my windbreaker, and the capri sweats I was wearing before heading to join the waiting bodies.

The cranked temperature of the A/C caused me to shudder off a cold-chill as the spandex shorts and sports bra exposed me to the cool air. Amongst Willow, Colt, Cal and regretfully Tia were four unrecognizable faces. Everyone chatted informally, broken into a few swarming huddles except two. The two pouting bodies stood caddy-cornered from the other, wide-stances and hands crossed into their armpits. Tia and Colton were so much alike, and both too blindly obstinate to see it.

I went trembling with nerves to Colton’s side, as Willow quickly hastened to him as well.

“Bex wants us to take the first weigh if that’s alright with you guys?” She asked kindly and professionally. She had played a hugely important role in my fight-preparation, but upon his re-entering to the picture, let Colton somewhat run the show knowing I probably felt most comfortable in his molding hands.

“Up to you, Livvy baby. If you want her to step up first, just say the word and I’ll make it happen.” Colt turned to face me, warming my chilling arms with his enormous heater like hands.

“I mean, I guess it’s alright. I… I don’t mind.” I looked to smile crookedly at the murmuring bodies across the room.

Colton approached who I concluded to be the official he invited as the unbiased party in the matter and shook his hand kindly with a relaxed meeting. The two men nodded their heads with words I couldn’t make out and parted ways with Colton returning to my nervously tapping feet, and the ref stepping to Katrina and her coach.

“’Ight, it’s nothin’ to get all fuckin’ antsy about, baby girl. All you gonna do is step up on the scale, he’ll call out your official weight and we’re all done. Simple as that, okay? You were at 129 or so this mornin’, right? So nothin’ to worry that big ol’ head about.” He gestured with his hands, steadily explaining the cut-and-dry process to come.

My bare feet treaded lightly towards the smile of the friendly man planted next to the upright standing physicians scale. My shoulders tensed and appeared to coil higher into my stiff neck as every set of eyes in the room landed on me. Mimicking what I had seen Colton and many other competitors do, I pushed the airy content from my lungs, and stepped upon the scale one foot at a time. He tapped gently on the pointer, careful to ensure his reading would be accurate before announcing the crucial number.

“Looks like you’re set at 129.5, Miss Elliott. You guys wanna come take a look?” He offered a firsthand sight at the scale with me standing on it for Katrina, wanting no speculation of funny business on fight night. But, she passed the opportunity and instead began shedding any extra clothing weight she could.

“Way to go, LC. Even down at couple pounds since we started this shit. I see you, girl!” Tia was on my heels with empty praise, talking towards the back of my head since I refused to give her the satisfaction of acknowledgment.

Colton stood at attention holding open my jacket and sweats, as Willow gave my shoulders a quick squeeze of support.

“What’s on the post weigh-in menu, Liv. All fighters got that craving while they’re training. Whatcha’ gonna reward yourself with, babe?” She smiled proudly.

“Oh, it’s gonna be somethin’ fulla’ carbs knowing this girl, Willow,” Tia butt in. Willow only looked with a blank, awkward glance, still very much sensing the tension within the Ritter-Elliott-Larkin camp.

“Tia, just fuck off, ‘ight. Liv may be too nice to say it, but we both know I sure as hell ain’t. She don’t wanna talk to ya’, and frankly, I don’t know why the fuck you’re even here.” Colton held off best he could, bless his heart. But her forced comments into our conversation only amped him further to unleash on her.

Tia’s smile turned to a sneer in an unapproving reaction to her once again mortal enemy’s comment, and eyeballed me searching for some sort of back-up, or teammate in the matter. Normally, I’d be the ‘Switzerland’ regarding matters of the heart between she and Colton. But, the desire to defend her right now just simply wasn’t present.

“Willow mentioned it to me. And if Liv doesn’t want me here, I think she’s grown and perfectly capable of telling me that herself. Asshole.”

“I don’t want you here.”

My quick snap admittance looked to hit her like a sack of bricks. The flesh tone of her face heated like the igniting of fiery embers and her nails seemed to pierce the inside of her palms between clenched, wrathful fists.

“I don’t want you here, and I think it’s best of you just stay out of my corner Saturday night, too. Willow and Colt can handle it just fine.”

Truly, I wasn’t as fitful with her as I let on, but for my mental sanity on fight night, I figured it best to just squander any possible altercations between she and Colton now. The two of them intently bickering outside the cage would only distract me, and I’d end up with double the damage that Tia caused. This time, Colton was genuinely lacking fault, so it indeed wouldn’t be fair to shove him from ringside.

“You don’t fuckin’ mean that, LC. This whole thing was my idea to begin with.” she protested with gritty objection.

“Hey Colt, you and your girl wanna come check the scale before she steps down?” The ref interjected.

“Yeah, that’s be great. C’mon, babe.”

I slid into my shoes, and disregarded Tia wholly.

TAGS: @torialeysha @eap1935 @mollybegger-blog @littleluna98

[marshmallow-phd]

Sculpted Raven

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Supernatural, Wolf Au

Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader

Summary: It had been just you and your brother for the longest time and that’s how you liked it. Politics and lies had drove you away from your home five years ago and that has since left a bitter taste in your mouth. While exploring the latest town you’d settled in, you met Chanyeol. He was everything you didn’t want: goofy, happy-go-lucky… a wolf. Mate pull or not, you were going to try everything you could avoid him while keeping the secret from your brother. But how long would you be able to fight? Will Chanyeol be able to pull you back into the world you swore you would never enter again?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I Final

**

Lon frowned. “Um… what?”

You swallowed to try and relieve your dry throat. It didn’t help much. “I think we should just pack up and go to Mom. She needs us. I want to be there for her.”

While you didn’t expect your brother to start jumping up and down and filling up his suitcase, you hadn’t been prepared for his harsh reply.

“(y/n), we already discussed this,” he huffed. “We’re staying here. If you want to go visit Mom, that’s fine. I’ll ask Kris for a few days off, but we’re not dropping everything here.”

“No. We didn’t discuss it,” you argued. “You decided on this place. You decided to come here. Just like you always do. I’ve never had a say. I’ve only ever followed you because I trust you. But, please, listen to me this one time. Let’s leave and go to Mom.”

“Why do you want to leave so badly?” Lon questioned. “I mean, yeah, that idiot attacked me, but Kris has my back. I’ve got a good job here. We can stay here as long as we need to. And do you really want to be stuck around Markus forever?”

Of course you didn’t. But considering the fact that you just told your mate that there was no chance of you ever accepting him, you needed to get away. You needed to get out. You needed to leave this place before you crawled back to him, begging for forgiveness. The way Chanyeol looked at you as he shouted for you to leave… That was what truly made you break down. The anger, the hurt… the betrayal….

If someone had asked you if Chanyeol was capable of any facial expression that wasn’t that lopsided grin or a pinched, cute look of confusion with pouting lips, you would have firmly said no. Even after all the times you’d lashed out and been mean to him, he still smiled through it all like an idiot. The thought of doing something to try and make that grin come back was sitting in the corner of your mind like a ghost. Or maybe more like an executioner silently sharpening his ax. If you gave in to the urge, you were a goner.

“Listen,” Lon sighed. “I can’t get tomorrow off, but I can see if Kris will give me a long weekend. We can drive up, stay with Mom for a few days, and come back. Deal?”

No. It wasn’t not what you wanted. It wasn’t the permanent resettlement that you’d hoped for.

But it would have to do for now. Maybe once he was back with Mom, Lon would change his mind. Maybe the idea of all of them being together again would be too hard to resist. There was always hope.

“Okay,” you agreed reluctantly. “I can live with that.”

Lon smiled at you. “Good. Now, what’s for dinner?”

Rolling your eyes, you shuffled into the kitchen to see what you could throw together.

**

There was one treat your mother always made for you when you were kids. It was your favorite thing in the world, even with how simply it may have seemed to everyone else. You could have even only that treat for the rest of your life and nothing else. No one could make them like your mom. Who else added the special ingredient of love into the mix?

Okay, so it was cheesy as hell, but when your mom told you that secret to her recipe and then gave you a wink, you couldn’t help but laugh, even as a teenager eating the frosting as you sat on the counter.

Even though the bakery you were currently headed to didn’t make their chocolate cake lollipops with Mom’s love, you still thought it might be a nice surprise for her when you showed up. Besides randomly showing up as an answer to her letter.

In many ways, Chanyeol was a lot like your mother.

Both of them preferred to look on the bright side of things, to keep a positive perspective even on hopeless situations. Your mother had constantly told you that your father would be all right, even when you knew the trial would have only one possible outcome. She’d still kept a smile on her face up until the end.

The bell above the door chimed as you entered the bakery. Heat filled the closed in space thanks to many ovens creating delicious smelling goods in the back. A girl around your age was manning the front counter. A small, shy smile pulled on the corners on her lips as she looked up from whatever she was sketching.

“Hi, how can I-” she stopped when she met your gaze. The smile was wiped from her face and after a few blinks, she tried again. “How can I help you?”

Confused and feeling awkward, you stuffed one of your hands into your jacket pocket as you pointed towards the display case. “Can I just get about half a dozen of those chocolate lollipops?”

She nodded. “Sure.”

Silently, she wrapped up the individual pops before gently placing them in a clear plastic bag.

“That’ll be twelve-fifty-eight.”

You handed over your card and waited for the transaction to be finished out. You weren’t sure as to why the girl was being extra awkward with you and you just wanted to high tail it out of there. But then you saw her scar.

It came up about halfway up her neck, curved and slightly raggedy. You knew exactly what it was.

“You’re one of them, aren’t you?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

Gasping, the girl’s hand flew up to cover the scar. But you didn’t move or leave or even apologize. You simply waited. Slowly, the girl removed her hand, nodding.

“Yes, I am.”

You nodded back, although it was more like a weird bob than a nod. “You must be happy, then.”

“I am,” she confirmed. “A lot happier than I was before.”

A snort escaped. “Yeah, those hormones will do that to you.”

“That’s not why I’m happier,” she snapped, actually making you jump back. “Maybe you should give Chanyeol a chance.”

Shaking your head, you scoffed, “Look, you don’t know my reasons–”

“No, I don’t,” she interrupted. “But I also had my reasons. In the beginning, I didn’t want anything to do with Kyungsoo. But he is the best thing that happened to me. Not because of destiny or whatever it is that draws us to our mates. But because he helped me see a better version of myself.” She looked up at you with a half-smile. “Chanyeol’s a good guy. One of the best in the pack. And the pull has a way of bring us to the person that we need most in the world.”

You cleared your throat uncomfortably. Because she was hitting a few cords with you. Some very sensitive cords. You knew Chanyeol really deserved a happy-go-lucky, giggly-type girl, but he got stuck with you instead. And yet, he still look at you like the very stars shined in your eyes.

“I’ll, um… I’ll keep that in mind.”

The girl tapped her pencil against the counter. “I’m sorry. They all told us not to get involved. And I planned on that, but….”

“It’s okay. I get it,” you reassured her. Then you held out your hand. “I’m (y/n), by the way.”

She took it, the smile growing in size. “Dana.”

“It was nice to meet you, Dana,” you said honestly. Holding up the bag, you joked, “If these are as good as my mom’s, you’ll be seeing me more often.”

Dana nodded. “I hope so.”

Waving goodbye, you walked out of the store, feeling the weight on your shoulders grow in size. You really needed to see your mom.

**

“Are you sure this was a good idea?” Baekhyun asked for the millionth time.

Chanyeol punched him in the shoulder as he rinsed his hair out under the faucet. He honestly probably should have let a professional do this. Oh, well. If it looks bad, he’ll just shave it and grow it out again. That was the great thing about hair. He could always start over.

“I think this is a sign he needs to seek professional help,” Tao mumbled.

Sehun snorted. “Oh, yeah, that’s a good idea. ‘Tell me, Chanyeol, what’s bothering you?’ ‘Well, you see, doctor, I’m a werewolf and my mate has basically rejected me so now I’m going through an identity crisis and have now dyed my hair.”

Tao scrunched up his face. “Ha ha ha.”

“Ha ha ha,” Sehun mocked.

“Both of you shut up,” Chanyeol grumbled. Turning off the faucet, he rung out most of the water from his hair and grabbed a towel to dry the rest. When he thought he’d gotten it mostly dry, he removed the towel and prepaid himself to look in the mirror.

“You know,” Baekhyun crunch on a mouthful of popcorn from the tiny bowl he was holding, “it’s not that bad, actually.”

“Yeah,” Tao agreed. “But why gray? Why not blonde or bright red?”

“I think it’s more silver, actually,” Sehun corrected.

Chanyeol turned towards the mirror, admiring the fresh, new color.

He wasn’t the first to dye his hair in the pack. Sehun kept his a steady blonde while both Baekhyun and Minseok had experimented with several different colors and shades. Even Junmyeon had played with a few interesting colors in his pre-professor days. Who could forget the pink hair he sported for a while during his junior year? The fact that he actually pulled it off and made it look somewhat cool was still mind boggling to this day.

But now it was Chanyeol’s turn. And, by a miracle, it actually worked out. Even unstyled, the silvery white color looked cool. It made him feel different, too. Not so much the goofball reputation that he was stamp with, but more tough. Someone who could stand next to you and look like he belonged.

No. That was not why he was doing this. He was doing this because he needed a change, a distraction. As far as you were concerned, he could die in a ditch. Which, considering you told him there was no way in hell you would ever accept being his mate, was pretty much the only outcome he could see. Might as well live life the fullest while he could, right?

“So, what’s next?” Sehun teased. “A tattoo?”

Chanyeol smirked. “Actually,” he checked the watch on his wrist, “I’ve got about an appointment in about two hours. I should change and head there soon.”

He only took two steps towards the door out of Junmyeon’s master bath before the pain hit. It was like someone was stabbing him in the chest with a white hot iron poker. And then twisting it around for good measure.

With a hard landing, Chanyeol fell to his knees, clutching his chest. Yells and hisses escaped from him in a pathetic attempt to scare away the pain.

“Junmyeon!” Baekhyun and Sehun cried.

At the same time, Tao yelled, “Kris!”

Both leaders came running into the bathroom at the same time. They both knelt down, holding onto Chanyeol and trying to figure out what was going on as they simultaneously asked, “What happened?”

“I don’t know,�� Tao whimpered.

“He just collapsed to the ground,” Baekhyun said in a panicked voice. “One second he was fine and then next….”

“It must be (y/n),” Kris concluded. “She’s still rejecting him.”

“That’s already painful enough,” Chanyeol coughed. “Why do they have to add this on top of it?”

“Cause life’s a bitch,” Kris replied. That actually made Chanyeol laugh through the pain.

Just as quickly as the aching sensation came, it subsided. Able to breathe normally again, Chanyeol pushed himself up to his feet.

“Chanyeol, are you alright?” Junmyeon asked. His face was pinched and wrinkled with worry. If he wasn’t careful, with everything going on at the moment, his face was going to freeze in that position permanently.

Plastering on a smile, Chanyeol nodded. “I’m fine. I’m going to go change now.”

He left the others behind in the bathroom and left Junmyeon’s room all together. But he didn’t head for his own room to change like he said. Knowing his brothers like the back of his hand, he hung around in the hallway, leaning against the wall, the fake smile now gone from his lips.

“He’s not really going to die, is he?” Baekhyun asked, none of his usual jokiness in his voice. “That’s just a myth, right?”

“It’s not a myth,” Kris confirmed. “If she truly rejects him, Chanyeol won’t last long.”

“Why do our lives have to be so connected to theirs?” Tao complained.

Chanyeol couldn’t really blame him. It did seem really unfair. If the mate rejected the wolf, the mate still got to go on and live their life while the wolf wallowed in agony until the pain became too much and they died.

Why couldn’t you see that he didn’t ask for this either?

Okay, so he did actually ask for it. He asked for it every time he saw his brothers with their own mates. He asked for it when he saw how happy they looked, how in love they were. But he didn’t ask for it to be you specifically. He would have been happy with anyone. The shy girl from his history class. Or the really pretty girl who always took his order at the diner where he often ate lunch.

In the end, though, it was you.

What could make you hate the idea of wolves and mates so much?

Sure, your brother was an omega, but Kris said he was never kicked out of a pack. He just simply chose not to. So where did all this hostility come from?

Well, two could play at that game. Whether or not death was coming for him, he could be just as unattached as you. See how you liked it then.

“It’s just the way it is,” Junmyeon replied to Tao solemnly.

“It’s complete shit, that’s what it is,” Kris growled.

“We can’t exactly force her to accept him, Kris,” Junmyeon sighed.

“I know. But it never should have been Chanyeol.”

“Then who should it have been?”

“Preferably none of us,” Kris snapped. “I would have preferred if the fates just left us all alone and let us make our own damn decisions.”

Chanyeol slid down to the floor. Kris was right. Life would have been much easier if the fates above could just leave them to their own devices. Chanyeol didn’t think his choice in mate would be that bad.

Stomps alerted him to someone approaching, but he didn’t have the energy to care or move.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Kris sighed above him.

Chanyeol looked up at his hyung.

“I don’t want to die,” he confessed.

“You won’t die,” Kris promised. “I won’t let that happen. We’ll get her to come around. I don’t care if we have to kidnap her to do it.”

An angry growl erupted from Junmyeon’s bathroom.

“I was kidding,” Kris called over his shoulder. He looked down at Chanyeol and mouthed, “No, I’m not.”

To his surprise, Chanyeol actually chuckled. No, he would never kidnap you or force you into anything, just like he knew Kris never would either. But he appreciated the joke.

Kris held out his hand. “Come on. We’ve got an appointment to get to.”

“We?” Chanyeol echoed as he took the hand and let the alpha pull him to his feet.

“I’ve been thinking about getting another one for a while.” With a soft laugh, Kris pulled up the left sleeve of his plaid shirt until his under arm was visible, showing off black script.

If you can’t live longer, live deeper

“So, it is possible,” Chanyeol grinned.

Letting his sleeve go, Kris laughed. “Yeah, it’s a tattoo. Why wouldn’t it be possible?”

“Sehun said it might not be possible since we heal so fast.”

Kris shook his head. “Not that fast. The needle does its work before your skin has time to heal up.” He clapped Chanyeol on the back. “Come on. Let’s get you changed and head out. Even if it’s for a few hours, let’s take your mind off of the dreary crap.”

Chanyeol scrambled to his room to quickly put on fresh clothes. If he’d been happy at the return of Kris and the others when they first arrived, now, he couldn’t be more elated to have a brother like Kris. When everyone else focused on the negative, Kris was about ignoring it for a while. Maybe after the appointment, they could go get a few drinks.

[dngrs-untld-hrshps-unnmbrd]

Isylok

Drama and romance | TWO big Eliksni | one smol Hunter gal | SFW…for now

Mercy, an Awoken Hunter, and her Eliksni lover Mithrax are working on an Alliance between his House of Dusk and the City but things have stalled since the events of Forsaken.

Since the Taken War, Akigras the Grasping, a former bounty hunter for Mara Sov, has set up an enclave for humans and Eliksni to live alongside each other just beyond the EDZ. One day while visiting the Spider he’s confronted by a ghost from his past, his Awoken lover who was killed during the Reef Wars.

You can read the smutty-feelsy installments of Mercy, Mithrax and Akigras’ story so far here, or feel free to dive right in with Isylok as I’ll fill you in on the relevant details as we go. Akigras is pronounced ah-KEE-grah.

___

“I will Kell the mind-open Eliksni. No spider-tricks. No loyal-lies. Variisis truths. We fight for Great Machine together.” Mithrax the Forsaken, Destiny Forsaken

___

The Awoken woman wore Guardian gear. Her vivid blue hair was swept to one side and tied in a bun at the nape of her neck; hair the colour of space lit by cold white stars. Lonely stars.

Akigras lounged back against the wall, idly cleaning one of his ornate silver hand cannons. The Tangled Shore made him uncomfortable but the Spider was useful to him. Useful to Guardians, too, it seemed.

The woman spoke a farewell to the Spider, in Eliksni. Akigras looked up. As she turned around her eyes met his and he felt as if his two hearts had been clenched in iron fists.

A bar-fight while he looked on, amused. A pretty et-sha with her nose pressed against the glass as she stared at her homeworld star for the first time. Blood on the floor of a space station.

The woman’s eyes grazed over him, uninterested. Then her eyes widened and she halted mid-stride. A moment later she frowned and hurried out of the room.

Atop his throne, the Spider laughed darkly. “Akigras. You look at every Awoken that comes through here like a starving dreg. Just take one if you want one.” He twisted the dead Ghost in his fingers, looking introspective for a moment. “You might find it rewarding.”

Akigras stepped forward to speak his business but his mind was still reeling. He’d made a lifetime habit of keeping far out of the Guardians' way but there was one thing about them that everyone knew: they were an army raised from the dead.

The Spider leaned forward on his rickety throne, eyes gleaming with sudden interest. “Do you know her, bounty hunter? Or did you?”

Akigras wanted to tear one of the Spider’s limbs from his body and stuff it down his throat. He hadn’t been a bounty hunter in years and his past was none of the Spider’s business. “Ether, from the Prison,” he bit out. “I hear you have some. I want to trade ether in exchange for dusklight.”

The Spider sat back, bored. “You have no ether? What a pathetic little crew you command back on earth.”

The insult rolled easily off Akigras. They’d had an influx of Eliknsi at the Emerald Enclave since the appearance of the Scorn and he was proud of it. The new Servitors would soon be up and running and meanwhile their numbers were swelling. Protect and provide. That's all he wanted to do.

The Spider agreed to the trade and the pair negotiated the details. All Akigras could think as he bartered was, Meirsi.

Had it been her? Truly? Twenty cycles had passed since she’d died aboard Amethyst Station during the Reef Wars. He’d been too late to save her, the small mechanic in overalls who’d borne his teethmarks and been his home as he’d travelled all over the system. Who’d been his isylok. The light from his homeworld star.

If she’d been reborn as one of these Guardian creatures he had to know.

The Spider folded his hands on his fat belly. “I can feel you burning to ask about her.”

Akigras rolled his shoulders as if his exoskeleton was stiff. “You should get out more, Spider. Live your own life instead of feeding of everyone else’s.”

A deep, rasping laugh followed him out of the room but Akigras heard the unmistakable annoyed click of the Spider’s mandibles.

Hurrying up to ground level he cast his eyes around the Shore. She was there, in a House of Dusk cloak with a furred ruff, striding toward a Ketch. A Captain, resplendent in gold and purple and about half a foot taller than Akigras, turned to her in greeting. Akigras felt something tight and cold clench in his limbs as the Captain placed a possessive hand on the nape of her neck.

One of the Spider’s soldiers was there, watching the scene as well. “Arrha, who is that?”

“Mithrax, the Forsaken,” he rasped.

“It is his ketch? Forsaken by who?”

“Forsaken by Dusk. Or, was. Mithrax is now their Kell and commands many ketches. They seek an alliance with the City.”

Meirsi, with a Kell. His Meirsila. A painful longing expanded through him, for hadn’t he wished on so many sleepless nights that she was here to see all that he had done? Hadn’t he done all this, secretly, in her name: building a safe place for Eliksni to live alongside humans and Awoken as they’d talked about in idle moments. It had been nothing so grand as a plan but he knew she would have been proud of all that he’d achieved.

And here she was, doing what he sought, or something similar it seemed, without him. With another Captain. With a Kell, no less. And doing more than he dared for Akigras kept away from the City and their army of the undead. 

He was burning to ask Arrha more about Meirsi and this Kell but he would only relate his questions back to the Spider. Without another word he headed for his skiff.

___

“Spider, I need your help.”

The Spider looked down at the Awoken Guardian. Ah. The one who had rattled Akigras so the other day. She had returned. How pleasing.

“Everyone always comes to the Spider. Help isn’t free, you know.”

“So you've told me before,” she said dryly, folding her arms. “You know what Mithrax and I have been trying to do. We want to end all fighting between Eliksni and Guardians, officially, and for good. A truce on the Tangled Shore isn’t good enough.”

“It’s quite a feat, though, wouldn’t you agree?” The Spider twisted a dead Ghost and it made an unpleasant crunching sound.

“It is. And as long as you’re useful to the City the truce will remain. We’d like something more permanent.”

Spider shifted angrily on his throne. How dare anyone suggest that he might outlive his usefulness?

“Since Cayde’s death and the prison break the Vanguard are looking inward. Doing damage control. Waiting and seeing how things will turn out. I need them to act. I need to show them that this alliance will be helpful to them now.”

The Spider eyed her carefully. This woman was the Kell-mate of Dusk and loyal to the City, and yet Spider would bet that she had been born in the Reef. She spoke Eliksni too well. She was very fond of the Eliksni males, too. Clever ones. Ambitious ones. He had to suppress a laugh. It would be a pleasure to prime this explosive and see how big of an eruption it would cause.

Akigras thought he merely looked on, like some sort of idler. Fool. The Spider was instrumental in everything.

He leaned back on his throne, exceedingly pleased with himself and the plan that he saw unfolding before him. “There is an enclave on earth where Eliksni and humans already live alongside each other. Your Kell should ally with their leader to prove he’s friendly to humans and has no intention of seizing control of the Great Machine.”

“Mithrax doesn’t want the Traveler for himself,” she said defiantly.

“My dear, deeds speak louder than words. Akigras of the Emerald Enclave has renounced your Traveler. He wishes only to live in peace with humans on a green world. What has your mate done to prove the same?”

The Awoken woman thought for a moment, and then nodded once. “It’s a good idea. What would you like in return for this information?”

The Spider laughed softly. “Oh, no need, my little morsel. This one’s one me.”

___

When they entered the enclave, Mercy and Mithrax were allowed to keep their weapons. Mercy walked beside her mate, counting the skiffs in the meadow, the anti-aircraft turrets mounted atop the rocks.

A Vandal escorted them down into a series of tunnels and into a large, open cavern. She’d expected a throne room, but instead she was greeted by what looked like part warehouse, part control room and part social space. There were human, Awoken and Eliksni here, and even several Exos at the screens.

A black-clad Eliksni strode toward them, and her stomach lurched. This was the leader of the Emerald Enclave, the Eliksni who'd been looking at her so strangely in the Spider's lair? There were no markings on his armour or cloak, but the hand cannons strapped to each of his thighs were ornately wrought and gleamed in the artificial light.

There was something bleak and dangerous about him that seemed incongruous in these hopeful surroundings. How could such a place be borne from such a hard-looking individual?

Mithrax bowed to the Eliksni, acknowledging his rank. “Akigras, the Grasping. I am Mithrax, the Forsaken, Kell of House Dusk. May we speak in your throne room?”

Akigras returned the bow, but when he straightened his eyes were on Mercy. “Mithrax, the Forsaken. There are no throne rooms here. I am not Kell.”

Mithrax shifted on his feet and Mercy had to quash a smile, imagining what he was thinking. No throne room? Practically savages.

"You act as Kell," Mithrax pointed out, and after a moment Akigras tipped his chin up in acknowledgment.

"I fill the role that you would call Kell. We can talk up on the surface. I am open in the business I conduct."

When they walked out into the sunshine again Mercy liked what she saw. It was simple, even rustic in places, but everything was neat and the children looked well-fed and clean. More importantly they looked happy. She turned to Akigras. "What do you do here? What are you trying to achieve?"

Akigras answered solemnly. “We live in the assumption of peace, and we prepare for that peace. Though we are able to defend ourselves.”

She smiled to herself. It was nice to hear someone talk of peace after hearing the Factions talk of unending war for so long, and she believed him about being able to protect themselves. The adults were armed and there were armaments all around them in strategic places.

There was so much green here, too. It was beautiful. Emerald Enclaves, the name was fitting. Mercy felt herself relax finally. Despite their grim "Kell" I want this alliance, she realised with a warm feeling. These are good people.

“You are looking at my human-mate, Akigras the Grasping,” Mithrax growled softly.

Mercy’s turned back to face them and she realised a long, taut silence had stretched between the two Eliksni.

The Captain tipped his chin up. His stance was tense as he looked at her and she felt the same sense of unease roll through her that had arrested her in the Spider’s lair the other day.

“You know my human-mate, Akigras the Grasping.”

“Meirsila,” the Captain said, slowly and carefully, still looking at her.

Her unease ratcheted up to panic and she took a step back, her hand going automatically to the gun in her hip holster. Everything about this male was initiating a visceral response. Wild heart-beat. Sweaty palms. “My name’s Mercy,” she said through cold lips.

Mithrax was silent and watchful, looking between the two of them. Finally he asked Akigras, “Were you Reefborn?”

Still looking at Mercy, the Captain said, “I lived in the Reef, during the Reef Wars.”

No no no. Amethyst Station. Skolas’ slaughter of Awoken to set the Queen against his rival. This was all she’d learned about her former life, all she’d wanted to learn: that she’d died on board Amethyst during the Reef Wars.

Mithrax went on in a low, seething tone, “My human-mate does not know you. She does not remember you. But you remember her.”

Again, the Captain tipped his chin up, and Mercy felt dread and fear flood her limbs. This couldn’t be happening. Everyone from her first life was meant to be long dead or far away. Forever. She wanted it that way. She needed it to be that way because her life before was a blank, white void. It was unfair that someone else knew what had happened to her back then and she didn't.

She found her voice, but it was shrill. “Tell me where I died if you knew me in my first life.” How dare this Eliksni speak of her as if he knew her? How dare he lie to her face and to Mithrax’s?

The Captain’s mandibles flexed in annoyance and he said nothing. She knew that expression as she’d seen it from Mithrax enough times. I don’t need to explain myself. You must take me at my word. Nothing enraged her faster than Eliksni Captain stubbornness.

She pulled out her hand cannon and aimed it at his head. “Tell me or I will put a bullet in you,” she seethed. “If you can’t tell me then you’re a liar and you need to be put down.”

Mithrax tensed and made a slight movement toward her. So did half a dozen of Akigras' Eliksni and human comrades but he put out a hand out to stop them and they stayed where they were.

Akigras was silent for several long moments and she could feel the anger radiating off him in waves. Being made to prove himself at gunpoint was a slight to his honour.

Fuck his honour. She wanted answers.

“Amethyst Station,” he said finally.

Her eyes, suddenly, stupidly, filled with tears, and the impulse to pull the trigger was even stronger. It felt like mortal weakness that this unknown male knew something about her that only she and Ghost should know.

Mithrax who stepped forward and took the gun out of her nerveless fingers and put it back into her leg holster.

“Either you leave with me now or I’m leaving without you,” she hissed at her mate.

Mithrax hesitated and his eyes flickered to Akigras. He wanted this alliance, but how could he even think about prioritising Dusk over her feelings after this Captain had—after he’d—

All right, he hadn’t actually done anything to her, but it felt like he had. She was an invincible Guardian and she’d just been made to feel like a hatchling under this male's boot.

Without another word, without even looking at Akigras, Mithrax nodded, and they turned and walked out.

Back on his Ketch, she couldn’t stop shaking.

Meirsila. Meirsi. Mercy. When you said them aloud they were the same.

“It will be all right, human-mate,” Mithrax said, taking off his cloak and draping it around her. It was warm from his body heat and very heavy. “It is a surprise, but it will pass.”

“A shock,” she corrected.

He stood over her, arms folded, thinking. “Is this not something Guardians are taught to expect?”

Guardians might know we had a first life, but none of us expect to walk into a room and come face to face with it.

She looked up at her mate, knowing he was thinking about more than just her in that moment. “You still want to talk to him about an alliance.”

Mithrax tipped his chin up in affirmation. “I have to think of the House. It is my duty. And this Akigras…”

He saw possibilities with Akigras, who had known her, who had…she squeezed her eyes shut. Traveler’s fucking light. She knew. Mithrax knew. Even the goddamn Spider had seen it and that’s why he’d been so delighted to send her to Akigras. Mercy remembered what she’d realized about herself shortly after meeting Mithrax. She’d been a Fallen fucker in her first life.

And here he was, the Fallen in question, apparently. Big, proud, and in charge. Just how she liked them, apparently.

She scrubbed a hand over her face. This alliance she and Mithrax hoped for with the City had been thwarted by setback after setback. Why couldn’t something be easy for a change?

___

Mithrax went back to the Enclave, but this time he went alone.

His mate was a practical mate. She would understand why he had to do this even if right now she was too unsettled to see the matter objectively.

Besides, he was curious about this Captain. Who had Mercy chosen, before him?

He and Akigras walked through the Enclave, stopping atop a rock to look down upon the clearing, lit by bright sunshine. There were so many young ones. Mithrax felt a pang of longing in his limbs. There were still no young aboard his Ketch and even when there were he had no open ground for them. They would know only the Ketch and its hull, as he had. He wanted to give his first hatchlings something more.

“There are no Guardians here,” Mithrax observed.

“We don’t seek the benevolence of the Great Machine. We want only a peaceful homeworld. A friendly star.”

His voice was flat and guarded but Mithrax heard the truth in his words. The Guardians protected their Traveler jealously and the Enclave wished to live peacefully on earth. But to fight for the Great Machine alongside the humans…

They watched an Exo leading a troupe of human and Eliksni juveniles through their daily exercises. They weren't even battle exercises. The Enclave was so different to life aboard his ship where the assumption of fighting pervaded everything they did.

“There are things that I miss from before the Scatter,” Mithrax said quietly. “That connection to so many. The Eliksni, strong and united.”

Akigras watched a bird fly overhead, wings flashing in the sunshine. “How can you miss what you never knew?”

They were both born in this system, but that didn’t mean the old one didn’t call to Mithrax occasionally. The idea of living on firm rock. The idea of home. “You miss my Mer-cee and you don’t know her.”

Akigras shifted on his feet. “I know her. Not like you know her, but I know her.” He looked around at the enclave. The people. The buildings. “She’s the reason for this. The reason for everything I’ve done.”

Mithrax’s eyes flickered over this Captain’s limbs. The lines and angles were clean and proud; he was telling the truth. This was an impressive place Akigras had built. There was momentum here, where Mithrax had run up against a solid Wall.

Akigras taken Mercy’s memory and built something from it. Something important.

“Tell me more,” Mithax said to Akigras, folding his arms and leaning against a rock. “About everything.”

___

“Human-mate. There is to be an alliance.”

Mercy was in the armoury taking stock of the wire rifles and there was a stack of ammunition in her lap. She blinked up at Mithrax from the floor. “What? Since when?”

The black-clad Eliksni came through the door behind her mate and alarm spiked through her.

What had they done together, been to each other, all those years ago? She was burning to ask him so many questions and afraid to know at the same time.

What if he killed me? I was murdered by Eliknsi after all.

“Akigras is to be Kell-ur of Dusk, and I am to be Kell-ur of the Emerald Enclave.”

Mercy stared at Mithrax. She thought he’d been speaking of an alliance with the City. “Kell-what? What are you talking about?”

“The things Akigras has done at the Emerald Enclave, they are the start of something important.” Mithrax was talking on, his voice strident and pleased. “Kell-ur is Kell for another House. In difficult times two Kells might come together with their two Houses. Akigras knows nothing of the workings of House Dusk. I know nothing of the workings of the Emerald Enclave. Neither could rule the other’s House, so we must lead together if there is to be an alliance.”

Mercy got to her feet and dusted off her hands. So Mithrax had been to the enclave without telling her. She chose her words carefully, trying not to lose control again even though every instinct was telling her to scream at Akigras to get out. “Mithrax. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It is a close connection. Kell-ur shares everything that the Kell has, and vice versa.”

A cold feeling swept over her. The Eliksni had a very different idea of sharing to humans. Where humans might think “mine”, my children, my home, my emotions, the Eliksni thought “ours”. For the longest time when Mithrax said things like, “My House is frustrated” Mercy assumed he was frustrated and was expressing it in his over-the-top, autocratic way. But no, emotions really did permeate the Ketch as if they were carried through the air. He kept morale high through sheer self-control.

“Uh. What do you mean everything?”

“Everything. Home. Duties. Mates. It is entirely practical. Together we’ll grow strong and there will be a true Eliksni–Human alliance at last, as you wanted. The City will see that—”

But Mercy waved a hand, cutting Mithrax off. Akigras was watching her, his eyes glittering and possessive, and it made her heart pound. There was so much to unpack here and she was going to give Mithrax a good damn talking to about deciding things by himself that affected her, too, but first she needed to get one thing straight. “You mean share Eliksni mates? The females aboard the Ketch?”

“No, Mer-cee. I have no Eliksni mates. I have only a human-mate.”

Stunned, Mercy looked between the two Eliksni males towering over her, one haughty and regal, the other silent and menacing. They were two of the most fearsome creatures she’d ever beheld, a wall of solid, determined Eliksni. They’d decided between them what they wanted and were presenting her with their plan. Tied up in a bow. Done.

Mithrax had promised her to a complete stranger without even asking her.

She drew in in deep breath and hollered up at her mate, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

____

To be continued. Thank you for reading! xx

[bigbangclappin]

Run

Pairing: Kwon Jiyong X You

Word Count: 2,164

Genre: angst (ofc) vampire!g-dragon vampire!reader AU

a/n: this will be a 3 part series 

Part two

You had to keep your baby safe; you needed to find the shelter that would accept you both. Your breathing had become labored and you didn’t have much time left before sundown. The baby’s father would know you were gone and have every single coven in the city out looking for you two.

“Ji Tae just a little longer,” you cooed to your son who was no doubt hungry, “Let’s just get to the church huh?”

You took the train to the other side of town while cradling your infant in your chest. No one even spared you a glance the entire ride. You were relieved; life with your mate was very public in the underworld. Everyone who knew they were in your presence had to give you the utmost respect even if it was fake.

The consequences of not honoring the High Queen would prove to be damning in the eyes of the King. A cold shiver ran down your spine; brutal memories brought back from the recesses of your mind made you hide your face in your baby’s embrace.

That would all change now, Father Park promised to house Ji Tae and you while he procured everything you needed for safe passage out of Seoul.  Even though you were leaving the center of his control you knew it was going to be a lot harder trying to survive. He had connections all over the world.

You knew the battle you’d have to fight, the life you needed to give up, your name could never be the same, your appearance would constantly change. Your love of the night would have to be forgotten; to protect Ji Tae.

Courage was something you never lacked, now that you had your son fear wasn’t an option. You were a tigress who had to protect her young. Jiyong was a worthy opponent, his grace and agility were second to none. His age gave him knowledge the highest scholar would murder for. He wasn’t known as the dragon for nothing.

Like the creature he was named after he would do anything to protect what was his. You and Ji Tae were not individuals but his property, he tried to do whatever he could to keep you under his thumb. The finest gifts from all around the world at your fingertips, furniture, wines, art, but nothing could make you ignore the lack of affection he gave you.

In it’s place was a harsh, sadistic, twisted sense of love. Verbal assaults one right after the other; what followed was worse, those gifts, and all night love making sessions that led you to believe he was truly sorry and he’d never do it again.

No use in calling yourself stupid now that it was over. If all went well you’d never have to see him again.

Your son would be raised in a quiet, comfortable environment and that's all you ever wanted.

As the train came to a stop you collected your bags and shuffled out as quickly as possible. The cathedral was not as discreet as you wished, being it a tourist attraction. Being out on the street however would be much worse and so you found yourself going through the side entrance.

“Father Park it’s me.”

You had called softly, admiring the beauty of the church. Heading toward the altar you saw a figure emerging in a white vestment. Stepping into the last rays of the setting sun you recognized the priest with the warm smile.

“Ah (y/n) and little Ji Tae I have been expecting you,” the elderly man caressed your son’s face before gesturing with his arm for you to follow him, “Let’s get you both to the underground before the sun decides to go down.”

You stayed rather closely behind the priest despite what you knew about elder vampires and their inability to enter consecrated ground. Just because they couldn’t didn’t mean the humans wouldn’t try. Those fools would do anything for a chance at immortality.

You felt pity for the humans you had tried to save with the truth; Jiyong and the others had never intended to change any of the mortals. They already believed there was a population problem amongst their species.

It had been your greatest hope to have saved at least one person but humans never ceased to realize that to live forever was for only the chosen. You were either born into the bloodline or you were a mate to the bloodline.

The elders did not allow free creation; if you had found your mate or needed a familiar you had to go through a series of hoops within their self-created government. If you were approved you had to allow the king a droplet of the newborn’s blood so that he could keep track of them if their master failed to do so.

You quivered as one particular memory came to pass; a young vampire around the age of one hundred and twenty had been unnervingly lucky to had met their mate at such a young age. (Considering Jiyong had waited fifteen hundred years to meet you.)  She had been rather bright and mature which is why the elders had agreed that she could turn her mate.

Unfortunately for the young one her mate began to question the elders and their practices. No one got away with questioning what was ancient practice. The newborn was torn to pieces and his mate left alive to drive herself insane.

You were the only one to provide her comfort. You tried to soothe her grief and guilt; you even offered her some of your blood even though it was highly forbidden to drink. With your ability to self-heal Jiyong never had to know. She wouldn’t accept your blood knowing who your mate was. She even refused the blood of your favorite donor in fear of more punishment.

The poor creature went on to torture herself for several months until she became raving mad; threatening to expose the entirety of your race. They beheaded her in front of the entire coven. It scarred you and to be honest it shattered the rose colored image Jiyong had created in your head. He was conniving, self-serving, and dangerous.

Jiyong hid behind his innocent face; he pretended to be naive and sweet when he was the cruelest elder on the council and he wasn’t even the oldest. It wasn’t a surprise to you all that much that Seunghyun would rather be reinforcement than the ruler. Jiyongie ruled with an iron fist, the underlings were never the wiser unless they committed a crime worthy of standing in front of the council.

To the young ones the council, was great, forgiving, and needed to survive. Jiyong was their too pure ruler whose sole goal was to keep vampire kind safe and undetected. The latter was all that mattered to them; they never implemented a system to help the newborns they only fed them lies to prevent an uprising.

You felt such utter disappointment in yourself for not realizing how terrible your mate was sooner. If you had known you would’ve tried to prolong having children. Not that you didn’t love Ji Tae but no child should have to grow up on the run because their daddy was a snake.

You would take care of your past mistakes by keeping your son safe. Jiyong would never hurt either of you again. It would be hard living without a mate but for your kid, you’d do anything.

“Ms. (Y/L/N),” the father gained your attention with the clearing of his throat, “Try to memorize these tunnels this will be your means of travel for the next couple of days.”

You nodded and put a hand to the old stone wall; it was cold like your mate’s skin but more welcoming. Jiyong could be affectionate when he wanted something from you; it never felt genuine because he was so calculating. Surely he had to love you because of the mate bond, but when he said those words...they always felt hollow. Like he didn’t know how to process the emotion. Only saying what he knew I wanted to hear.

You were sure if you were born human you would’ve already cracked from the lack of affection. Any human would’ve felt like a used hooker; but you were the daughter of a well bred family of vampires. Relatively old but you were of their newest generation, you were raised as if you were born into the fourteenth century. Perfectly groomed to only feel emotion not to let others see because of your nobility. Your mate was raised much the same so you could understand but your parents had always told you, your mate was the only exception to this rule. The only other soul you’d be able to trust.

You felt tears in your eyes at just the thought; was there something wrong with you? Why couldn’t he be like the others? Why did he have to pretend that he was at war with everyone? More importantly why did he have to treat you as if he were grooming another soldier?

You needed to stop thinking about the past if you wanted to move forward; that chapter in your life was over it was time you got your head in the present.

“Father Park, I will need a well trained hunter for an escort. One who won’t kill me or my son just because we’re purebloods.”

“Of course, I already have one in mind. He’d be more than willing to help you out, your circumstances speak to him on a personal level.”

Your curiosity was peaked, “Why do you say that?”

“Your mate has hurt many people, most of the association would be willing to sacrifice themselves if it meant your mate died too…”

You swallowed uncomfortably if they hated Jiyong this much how would they treat you? Would they betray you? Hurt your son? Would they try to kill your mate? Despite your fear you still loved Jiyong and would never wish to see him dead. It was clear you couldn’t put your trust in anyone, you weren’t even sure you trusted the priest.

“I don’t doubt that…”

“This way miss.”  The priest took a quick right and before you was an old looking wood door, pointed in typical fifteenth century style. “You and your son shall stay here, if there is anything you might need don’t be afraid to come and find me. I’ll be sending your guardian as soon as I find him.”

“Thank you father, for all of your help.”

He gave you a smile and a formal bow before taking his leave.

Settling in you put Ji Tae in the crib they provided once he was comfortable you laid down on the small cot. Checking your watch, seven pm, the sun has officially set. You were slightly anxious but you knew these tunnels were hidden well, you needed to rest. Your ability to walk in the sun took a lot out of your body. With one last look at your son you closed your eyes and drifted off.

“Jagi?” a familiar voice called to you laced with worry, “Jagiya where are you?”

Your eyes snapped open in near panic. The mate bond, you had forgotten to take into account your telepathic connection. You tried to control your fear; if you didn’t answer him his hackles would be raised immediately, what would you tell him? Biting your lip you said the first thing that came to mind,

“I took Ji Tae to the park.” you paused briefly, “I left a note by your nightstand.”

You could hear his soft hum, “I saw that but Magnus said you have been gone since four this afternoon without a human escort…”

“I can protect myself better than any human can Ji.”

“That would leave you distracted and someone could take our son, please come home Ji Tae needs his feeding anyway.”

His demanding tone irked you so that you chewed on the inside of your cheek. Deciding against your better judgment you gave him one last chance.

“I brought one of the bottles you put in the fridge, he’s all set and we’re fine—”

You heard the low growl he omitted, “(Y/n)-ah I wasn’t asking.”

You swallowed your anger, “Of course not, I’ll be home soon.”

You shut him out afterwards not even for a moment regretting your decision to leave. At least this way you bought yourself some time before he’d scour the city for you two.  

Walking over to your son, holding his tiny hand in yours, “I’m sorry about your appa, but I promise you and I will figure this out.”

Your son gave you a gummy smile and in return your insides warmed. Patting his chubby belly you went back to your makeshift bed. This time you made sure to keep Jiyong out, if you could help it he’d never be back in your life again.

[usukloving]

FF, Mechanics AU

A/N: tbh i wasn’t sure if i was ever going to post this but i need space in my google docs where i usually write since i hate to have several docs and it starts to lag when i have so many pages. I started writing small pieces of this but now i just collected them all together. I don’t know anything about mechanics and there’s no smut since i don’t know how to write some so it’s more friendship..for now... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ This is the first fan fiction that i’m actually posting online. I’ve been writing since 2012 sooo... English isn’t my first language and i suck at grammar so i’m sorry for any mistakes okay!?!?!?

- USUK Omegaverse Mechanics AU -  Pairings: USUK, Prucan, SuFin.

Alfred wasn’t sure what to feel when a beta woman from the labor union for mechanics came by, with her was a small blond haired and fair faced omega. Already dressed up in the uniform that every Alpha and Beta in the repair shop wore. Expect the betas working on the counter and the Alphas working in the car shop department. Alfred was only used to have his omega brother Matthew around, and so was his car shop family, the alphas and betas had become like big brothers and sisters to Matthew. “ Hello everyone, this is Arthur Kirkland, he will be working with you from now on so keep good care of him “ The beta lady said, her arm pushing the omega to the den of wolves. To Alfred, the omega didn’t look that nervous about having to work around Alphas and Betas only. With a curt nod the omega introduced himself again. Jim, one of the group of older alphas who worked as the father or grandfather figure to the rest of the rowdy younger Alphas, came forward. What Alfred could hear and see he had a conversation with the small omega when the beta woman left. Alfred turned back to work on the several cars they had to fix, for a moment forgetting the existence of the omega in their shed.  Next time Alfred remembered Arthur, was when he had sat down to eat his lunch. It was a tradition that the whole crew would eat in the lunchroom. The younger, just graduated alphas and betas, would get their food from the fast food joint from across the street, the older mated ones would get theirs from their mates, and Alfred had his lunch Matthew had packed him. Nobody else seemed to notice, but Alfred soon saw how Arthur wasn’t among them. He tried to concentrate on the tattoos on his arms, often when in thought tracing his eyes on their various patterns. Tattoos had come from the early rowdy years of his teenage puberty, luckily he didn’t regret getting them that much. He sometimes even thought about getting few more. When the alpha had finished his food, the table was usually fairly quiet, sometimes the workers would exchange words and stories, but today Alfred wasn’t that into them. Instead he returned to the repair hall, looking at the various cars that were under repairment. From the corner of his eye he could see the blond omega poking and eating his salad, Alfred wondered if the omega had packed it himself this morning when coming to work, or does he have a mate or a family. He hadn’t been close enough to the omega to even get a whiff of his scent, and the uniform would cover any mating marks. The alpha then paid more attention to the car the omega was working on. It was a car left by a couple who left on a holiday for few weeks, so the omega would have plenty of time to fix it. The motor was out of the hood and resting on a stand, Jim had ordered the omega to work on this car only while the Alphas handled the faster harder jobs. For a moment Alfred felt bad for the omega. The motor was fixed, and would have to be lifted back inside the car case that the omega can continue investigating and fixing the rest of the car, but lifting that motor old fashioned would take more than omega to lift it in. Would the omega ask help from who? Would he risk the chance of dropping the motor and breaking it so he doesn’t have to ask for help? Alfred chose, that the best was for the omega and the repair shop, that he was the one to help him. “ Hey “ The omega snapped its head up, bright green eyes locking into him and staring. “ Hi. “ The salad looked the most interesting to the omega right after it. “ Do you need help lifting the motor to the hood? “ The omega, Alfred kept referring to Arthur as the omega, it was too uncomfortable for him to use his first name. Would he use Kirkland instead? That was the omegas last name right? Kirkland omega nodded his head. Trying to shove the rest of the salad to his mouth as fast as possible, making him look like a chipmunk. Alfred chuckled. “ Don’t hurry, imma take a leak first. “ He turned around to leave for the toilet. He would come back to help out after it. The next day, when the lunch bell rang and the mechanics threw their dirty rags and tools to the ground, and when the mass of workers flooded the small lunch room. Alfred was sure to stay behind. He waited until everyone had left before taking his lunch and finding the blond omega, eating and leaning against the same car as yesterday. “ Can i join you? “ Alfred asked and before the omega could ask he slided to sit next to him. He could smell the small tint of nervousness coming from the omega, but it didn’t see like he was absolutely scared of him. Their lunch was filled with both of their forks stabbing their individual foods. “ So how long have you been a mechanic? “ the alpha tried his best in starting a conversation, telling himself that he was helping the omega to adapt because it would be better for anyone working in the shop. “ Since childhood. You? “ “ Pretty much the same “ “ Really? I’ve been interested in cars since a small lad but i haven’t been an actual mechanic for longer than few years “ “ Oh yeah that’s what i mean, i used to have these cool car magazines at home so that inspired me, my dad would take me often to car shows and old garages to see cars. “ “ My father has a old cadillac fleetwood. It’s mine now and i’ve loved it since childhood so that’s how i became a mechanic when the opportunity to become one arose “ “ You’re british right? Have you lived here your whole life? “ “ Only since early puberty. My family moved here when i was around 12. “ “ Must have been a big change “ “ I guess, i didn’t mind though. “ Alfred nodded, the air has cleared a little more, all the nervousness gone from the omega. Alfred was rather glad to get a new person in the garage. The lunch bell broke their conversation, Alfred hurrying back to his car leaving the omega to work on his own. The following day Alfred chose to take a different route. When the bell rang and people left, he went to Arthur straight away. “ Come with me “ He ordered, the omega looking confused and slightly scared when he followed the taller alpha to the lunch room. There Alfred indicated for Arthur to sit down. “ You can sit next to me on lunch from now on. “ The british omega looked uncertain about sitting down, looking around several times before carefully taking his seat. Alfred left it there, starting to eat and hoping for the omega to do the same. In the end of the table the young rowdy alphas started to push and laugh at each other, Trying to show dominance over each other in humorous ways. This started to cause more than normal noise and soon one of the older alphas with a long beard ordered the younglings to calm down. Alfred looked with a glance at Arthur who had an amused smile on his face. “ You don’t have to pay attention to them, they’re just brats “ Alfred explained with a grin. Arthur answering it with a smile and a nod. For the next few weeks, Alfred had noticed that since he had paid attention to Arthur, many others had too. The rowdy younglings from lunch trying impress the older omega and would between their fights find safety from behind the omega. Even if the brats would be interested in Arthur, Alfred wasn’t worried. Arthur’s posture and body language and there and there scolds and yells indicated that Arthur had taken a motherly role on the boys, and not a one that tries to find a mate in the young alphas.  The older alphas, especially Jim, had become a mentor to Arthur, and everyone seemed to get along with him. Alfred would try and help whenever he had a chance, but after Arthur’s true personality had come out, he was stubborn as a mule, Arthur wouldn’t ask help until he truly desperately needed it. It would annoy the omega greatly when somebody would help him without him asking for it. The omega customers were truly loving Arthur, being more comfortable in giving their car keys to Arthur than the scruffy and dirty alphas and betas in the back. Alfred got a chance to meet one of Arthur’s family members one day too in a way. Alfred had been working on his car when he saw an unfamiliar alpha walk in with a plastic bag. The alpha was tall and strong build like Alfred, his eyes were dark green and a bright orange hair. orange and light brown freckles peppered on his cheeks. Many alpha had turned to look at the unfamiliar person in the hall, Alfred immediately locating Arthur with his eyes who had turned to look at the new alpha with a scowl. Alfred felt a rock drop in his stomach when he saw the omega walk to the alpha and grab the plastic bag. The two exchanging a heated conversation before the alpha ruffled the omegas hair and turned in his heel and left. Alfred first doubted that the man had been Arthur’s mate even when he hadn’t smelled any mating mark or scent on the omega, but when the lunch rolled around Alfred got a chance to ask about the ginger alpha. Arthur frowned, his eyebrows furrowing. “ That was my brother, i left my lunch home, that tosser “ Alfred had to come to the conclusion that not every unfamiliar alpha that walks to the hall is a good one, but sometimes comes the bad ones. Alfred had heard yelling and slamming before he had to see a old white alpha walk in, the man had clearly spent his last 20 years in a bar rather than in any healthy place that could make him live longer. Alfred tried to hear what the man was yelling but it wasn’t until he got up from underneath the car he heard what the fuss was all about, and so did everyone else. “ I will have not a omega to fix my car! “ The man hissed and pointed his finger at everyone. If the hall didn’t go quiet from what he had been yelling earlier, it did from this. Alfred looked at Arthur who was hanging his head down, he had just fixed the holiday couple car few weeks ago and was looking for another car to fix. Alfred walked down the step to the old alpha and the beta from the office who was trying to calm him down. “ How can i help you sir? “ Alfred tried to be formal, even though he didn’t want to after seeing Arthur’s slumped shoulders. “ I want someone else to fix my car “ “ I’m sorry sir but we all are extremely busy today, when does the car need to be fixed? “ “ For tomorrow “ “ Then the only one who can fix it is the omega “ “ Outrageous, omegas don’t fix cars, that isn’t their job.“ The man then proceed to throw a tantrum like a 5 year old, cursing and yelling and looking like he was ready to throw something. Alfred’s polite smile dropped when he heard the mean words, being able to smell the omegas hurt smell mile away and that flared his anger from 0 to 100 real quick. Before Alfred had time to open his mouth and beat the old man up, Jim the oldest alpha came down from his car. “ Jim, now were talking, i’m sure you can fix my car “ the customer looked happy to see the older alpha. “ Roger “ Jim started, from his posture everyone who worked with the man was able to tell that the man was everything other than happy. “ Listen here Roger, this omega is called Arthur and his one of my best workers in this garage, if you can’t let him fix your car because you were born from a hooker over 70 years ago and now have issues then i can tell you that you can find another repair shop to fix your shitty car because he or anyone here will not fix it even if you’re begging “ The old man Roger swallowed nervously, coming in contact with a pack of angry alpha and beta mechanics. And with an angry huff and stumble he left the hall. The office beta thanking the mechanics. Alfred went straight to Arthur, rubbing the small omegas back in comfort as Jim joined the two. “ C’mon son, i have a old rod for you, i’m sure you can fix a good ol’ cadillac fleetwood. “ Arthur smiled to Alfred brightly, mouthing a thank you and gave a gentle touch to Alfred that made Alfred want to touch the omega back and hold him. The omega left with Jim to the other side of the garage where an old rod laid and Alfred didn’t stop watching until the omega was out of sight. Just like with Matthew, the family in the garage had taken Arthur under their wings and now Arthur was part of the family and he would be most protected in there. The younglings then did their presence known by singing the usual “ Alfred and Arthur, sitting in a Tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G, first comes love, then comes - “ Alfred smacked the brats around the heads, being too embarrassed to say for 100% that he wasn’t falling in love with Arthur. One day Alfred was having a casual coffee room conversation with Arthur when they begun talking about former jobs. “ I worked in a omega repair shop “ Alfred snorted, he had heard about those, it was a new thing that had started. “ Like those omegas for omegas type of places? “ “ Yes, i felt like i was working in a spa or hair salon instead of repair shop. Everything was pastel colours and rainbows and overly chatty omegas “ Arthur shivered in disgust. It was weird to Alfred that all repair shops and most workplaces must have at least one omega in them, but there was no law that omega repair shops must have 1 or 2 betas or alphas in them. I guess after years of complaining that omegas have no rights (and maybe still don’t and was why these kinds of places arise) that no one was brave enough to question it. Alfred in a way did understand, omegas had usually hard time in places where they would have to face more alphas, and alpha could easily overpower an omega and a beta. Alfred could see Arthur wasn’t an normal omega who was ready to work in a job that had mostly pastel colours and omegas in there, like as a kindergarten teacher, a nurse, as a counselor and so on. Alfred didn’t know why more alphas wouldn’t major in nursing for example, he was confused and wouldn’t think of it too much. He was glad Arthur didn’t like his old work, or else Arthur wouldn’t have started to work at their shop. When omega came to work, eventually more would follow thought Alfred when he watched another blond omega appear to the repair shop, unlike Arthur who was dressed in mechanic uniform, this one was dressed in normal office worker clothes. “ Hello everyone! My name is Tino Väinämöinen and i will be working in office department! “ They were like two different people Alfred came to understand. Tino was happy maybe even chipper, not afraid to happily talk with absolutely everyone. Arthur was quiet, sometimes snappy and angry. Alfred watched Arthur and Tino interact, Tino talking about absolutely everything while Arthur had a uncomfortable smile on his face until Tino returned to his office. “ So what did you talk about? “ Alfred asked when Arthur made his way to him. The omega looked exhausted. “ He told me bloody everything about himself “ “ Like? “ “ That he has a husband whose name is Berwald but he calls him bear bear because he's like a huge teddy in bed “ “ Wow “ “ I forgot for a moment what it was like to be around omegas, now i got a grim reminder why i’m not around them “ Alfred patted the smaller man's back gently. “ Well luckily his in the office “ “ He asked if i have a mate! A mate Alfred! Do you know what it felt like to tell him that yes i have no mate and yes i am not interested in getting one right away that i can introduce to him that we all can have a happy workplace omega buddies dinner! “ Alfred bursts out to laugh, it sounded like something Tino the happy omega would ask. “ hey you will find a mate in time, now let’s return to work, if he comes back i can distract him “ “ Oh bloody hell yes thank you Alfred “ Alfred understood on one sunny day that Arthur hadn’t met Matthew yet. So it was comically amusing to watch when both he and Matthew came to work and Arthur had to double take to make sure he wasn’t seeing two Alfreds. “ Hey Artie, this is my twin Matthew “ “ Hello “ Matthew had a plastic bag with him, and he was dressed in long trousers and a pastel pink sweater with a white collar shirt underneath. “ Hello, My name is Arthur, not Artie “ “ I’ve heard so much about you, only omega in here huh. “ “ Yes that’s me. “ “ I’m sorry for any problems my brother might have caused you “ Matthew said with a small smile. Alfred pretended to be hurt by this and put his hand to his chest. “ You wound me Mattie “ “ You start sounding like that frog from office department “ Arthur commented, his tiny nose scrunching up and creating lines between his eyebrows. “ Mattie’s here to bring lunch to his mate “ “ Oh “ Arthur’s eyes widened while he nodded slowly. “ S-so who’s your mate? “ Matthew blinked and then blushed. “ G-Gilbert, from the back who works on trucks “ Arthur’s eyes became wide as plates. “ Oh. T-that Gilbert? “ “ YES! IT IS I GILBERT ! “ Arthur jumped up in the air when Gilbert Beilschmidt put his hands on his shoulders from behind. Alfred bursts out to laugh, he had seen Gilbert sneaking around and didn’t want to ruin the surprise. Matthew was trying to hold in his smile and laughter. “ Oh bloody hell you crazy german i might have died ! “ “ Nah eyebrows brits don’t die even if one would try, also i’m prussian. “ Gilbert said with a kesesese and moved to kiss Matthew on the cheek. The two holded hands as Matthew explained about what lunch he had made and other stuff. Alfred moved to stand next to Arthur as they both watched the two love birds. “ When did they get mated? “ “ Not long ago, the ceremony was held like, what 2 or 3 months ago. They will try for a baby next month “ “ Oh “ “ Yeah “ Awkward silence followed, with Arthur saying quick goodbyes and muttered that his going back to work. Leaving Alfred waiting until Gilbert was done with his brother, that he can exchange few words before both Alphas would have to return to work, and Matthew would go back home.  Alfred had mixed feelings about Valentine’s day, he was rather bitter when he would see love birds all around him, even at work. Alphas would wear the gifts their mates have made them, and at lunch they would eat the heart shaped breads, pasta dishes and others happily. Most even had promised to go home hours earlier to pay back their mates fully. “ I promised to take my wife to dance, she loves to dance “ Jim said when the younger single alphas asked. “ Kesesesese i will take Birdie out on a romantic movie and then at home i will help him to feel real good “ The younger alphas jaws dropped in awe as Alfred cringed. “ Dude, i know you banging my bro but can you leave the info out anyways, it’s disgusting “ “ You’re just jealous you don’t have a mate ! “ Gilbert said as he bounced back to the back of the garage. Alfred sighed, he was happy that people were in love but after seeing Gilbert he knew why he hated Valentine’s Day even more. Alfred volunteered to stay overtime at work while everyone else went home to their loved ones, this was the curse of being a single alpha at work. Luckily he wasn’t alone and there were few others who were single and had chosen to stay at the carage. The american alpha sighed as he leaned against one of the cars he was working on, he looked around the hall, seeing a familiar blond mop of hair behind one of the cars. When he went to peek, he found Arthur sitting and snacking on some… cookies? They were black and smelled burned so Alfred wasn’t 100% that they were cookies. “ Hey bud whatcha doing? “ Alfred asked as he leaned against Arthur’s car. Arthur looked up and then down at his… food. “ I’m eating these scones i baked yesterday. “ “ Oh, so you having a break? “ “ Yes. “ Alfred grinned. “ Okay wait a sec, imma go grab my snacks and we can have a break together “ Arthur nodded as Alfred ran to the changing rooms and then came back with a small box of varied cookies, candies and crisps. Alfred sat down next to Arthur and then started throwing the snacks from his box to his mouth. “ So Valentine’s Day huh  “ Alfred begun, trying to make up some kind of conversation. “ Once again “ Arthur sighed, he didn’t like Valentine’s day at all, it was just a reminder that he was still without a mate. “ Kind of crappy that were staying here while others are having fun time with their mates “ “ Yes that’s true “ Arthur bit to his scone, the crumbs dropping to his lap. “ But you know what? Were having just as fun time here, we’re not bitter at all “ Arthur snickered at Alfred’s try at sarcasm. “ Oh yes, not at all, were definitely not jealous “ Alfred grinned “ Honestly i feel kind of happy that you’re here with me “ “ Oh? “ “ Yeah so i don’t have to suffer being the only single guy here “ “ We suffer together it seems “ “ Forever “ Alfred peeked at Arthur’s scones again. “ Hey wanna do a swap with me? “ “ Y-you sure? “ Arthur said hesitating, he had heard so much bad feedback from his food so he wasn’t sure if he was ready to hear it from Alfred. “ Yeah, i mean they look kind of scary but i’m sure they taste just fine “ Alfred said, grabbing one of the scones before Arthur had time to say no and taking a big bite of it. The scone was extremely dry, but the taste wasn’t that much off, it was eatable. “ S-so how was it? “ Arthur asked, his voice stuttering and eyes screaming worry. Alfred gave a thumps up and swallowed the scone piece in his mouth. “ It’s great! “ “ Really!? “ The omega brightened up and his scent turned hopeful, and Alfred felt his heart thump harder in his chest. “ Yeah, just a lil’ dry but it’s good “ The omegas mouth corners tugged upwards as he tried to stop himself from smiling. “ I-i knew that, ha nobody can say i can’t cook after this “ Alfred laughed. “ Here now you can choose what to take from my box “ “ Hmmm “ Arthur peered to the box and chose to take one of the gummy bear candies in there and popping them to his own mouth. The two exchanged smiles and continued eating their own snacks, Alfred stealing few of Arthur’s scones once in awhile. “ Happy Valentine’s day Alfred “ “ Happy Valentine’s day Artie “ “ It’s Arthur “ 

[inhalareexhalare]

The Dean Team and the Victim Reflex

...Ms. Charree expected me to join them for lunch! I was happy to join. She seems to like seeing me become more social and more emotionally open. I also decided to tuck my slightly over-sized collared shirt today, since upon looking at a mirror, I saw the imbalance in my visual appearance; I always loved wearing cardigans, but loose shirt plus dangling cardigan is a shapeless creature. 

Coincidentally, Ms. Charree had been egging me on to wear crop-tops since yesterday, and I got reminded of that when she smiled, seeing that I’m making an effort now, even just a bit.

I worry if she thinks I’m lying when I tell her that I eat with my old org-mates for lunch sometimes haha. Ms. Dianne also worries about that, but I think she won’t tell me. They’re both worried that I’m hiding from social interactions. They’re half-correct.

This time, I got to eat with Ms. May too! There were four of us, with Ms. Bel. Ms. May doesn’t talk a lot. More because she’s a bit older than any of us three. I’m going 23 this year, Ms. Bel is probably in her late 20s, MS. Charree alse in her late 20s. Ms. May seems to be in her late 30s. She usually can’t relate unless it is about habits or discipline or kids haha. In general she isn’t very talkative either but blends well with people, much unlike me when I first joined them.

Ms. Charre is... how do I put it. She’s crazy hiding under elegance. She isn’t even hiding the crazy part haha. She just looks so ladylike when she’s in a neutral mood. I can still see her teen-rebel self even now. She becomes irresponsible when paired with Ms. Bel.

Ms. Bel is a health-conscious environmentalist. Although she doesn’t want to be considered any of those things because she still has trouble having a completely zero-waste lifestyle. More like, it’s impossible haha. But I love her passion when she talks about these things. She fights for what she believes in, but knows her boundaries and won’t force you to subscribe in what she stands for.

It’s been fun! Too bad I can’t hang out with all of them at once. The other big group (Ms. Len and the gang) is too many for one room and inviting these three people would create chaos and smaller space for individuals to shine.

I want to hagn out with all of them in moderation (since I still haven’t built up good social stamina), but if I’m going to have to choose, I’ll go with Dean’s for now (we’re secretaries under the Dean, Ms. Charree, Ms. Bel, and Ms. May)

I guess I’ll call the other group the Big group haha.

Comments? 

Weakness: 

(1) I unconsciously grab my phone and open PDFs to read when I hear dead air. The problem is, it breaks my attention from my social goals. And, it helps me ignore my share of responsibility in the group dynamics/atmosphere. I didn’t get to read though, thank goodness. But opening it is already a no-no.

(2) My thought to tongue translation still needs work, so that I can express context and content clearly to people I speak with.

Strength: 

(1) I don’t write journal entries in the moment anymore. As I said in the previous paragraph, it breaks my attention. 

(2) I have more initiative to ask now too, despite still lacking good thought translation. 

(3) There is a bit more comfort in what I call the sufficient-frequency of eye contact now. (too much or too little are both no-no’s!) I observed that Ms. May opened up more in different topics when I initiate a dialogue with her when I share my opinions while making sure to match her eye contact timing.

plus bonus long rant:

I’m also gonna post my tucked-in shape here, for the sake of exercising a bit of shamelessness. I’ve always been fine with my body type, but other people having different perspectives sort of encouraged me to be more doubtful of my body image. I’m severely underweight. For most of my life from elementary. My mom said I was heavy at birth, but I haven’t really weighed myself again until elementary at PE and discovered I was, yes, severely underweight.

Also, it doesn’t help that my arms are naturally proportionally longer than they should be compared to my somewhat long legs. But I’m not so tall. I’m just 5′2 feet tall. So don’t imagine a slenderwoman just yet. I mean relatively long. Longer arms make my arms look even thinner bwahaha This was why my official pen-surname is Armslong. Lobo Armslong. HAHA

I don’t get sick a lot. Besides when I lack sleep for consecutive days, my immune system is actually pretty good on its own, without vitamins and shit. Though my attention problem during eating when I was from the age of ~4 until ~9-ish years probably contributed to me developing a small body, my bones are actually also really thin (dense?) as you might have seen from the little pictures I post. Wrists don’t enlarge. That’s just bone size. Also, my mom was as thin as me for most of her life (she had my body when she got married. She was real pretty though! So beautiful she was, even in her last moment alive in this world with her socially acceptably “normalized” body), until she reached around the early 40s and gave birth to us siblings. (She had trouble forming a child.)

I eat double the amount that my peers do, and healthier food too, and the most I’ve gained in years is 2 kilos. It normalizes back. I am stronger than most of the girls I know (except a few extreme exceptions, like martial arts practitioners). I do have some slightly more developed muscles and they show now, but it’s like it’s the only flesh I got; I have no fat.

I was worried for Karu and I and our potential child/children since I do consider the possibility that this is unhealthy even if my body is working just fine and actively. What if my body can’t take it? And what if my body is incapable of giving enough nutrients? Typical practice in the field of medicine is that the life of the mother comes first. But I don’t want to waste opportunities and time and resources and tears and blood just to cause someone else pain. But it seems this is normal... Waste analysis (feces and urine) shows that my digestion is pretty okay. Nothing weird.

But doctors keep telling me to eat better and buff up some muscles. I strengthen my body with work-outs and dance, and with Karu around, I have the healthiest diet in my whole life since my mom, but my weight doesn’t change.

Anywayyy, nothing big. Just leavin’ this here. For myself, really.

wrist btw. 

2019-02-21 14:41 Philippines Thursday

I should be careful to balance some good time with myself.

It's been fun recently, but I must not let myself lose my way. Exciting things can be so intoxicating.

Balance, balance.

I wonder if Karu's at home today? I don't feel like I have to know, and I won't ask. But right now, I'm actually looking forward to, and getting excited planning what good time I'm gonna give myself!

If Karu wouldn't be home, what fun would I do?

And if he is, it'd be fun to experience being alone despite him being around!

2019-02-21 18:06 Philippines Thursday

Huh. Tonight's the first night I ever didn't compulsively look up to see whether there were people upstairs.

My body literally feels light. I have more confidence in the presence of more people now. Maximum of five now, in contrast to two before.

But I won't get sidetracked. I'm here for self time. Reflection.

2019-02-21 18:52 Philippines Thursday

So I had some awesome self time! I got to listen to my old music tastes for the sake of memories, I got to see my super old college original character designs (two of my best ones, Loki and Liam), finish three scribbles for the Peak posts, write my third poem of the day, and meditate in silence.

I took a nap to rest my eyes and to conserve energy. And I got to do this all without a shred of hate nor sadness towards anyone or anything. Despite it being so late, and despite Karu still being away, and despite not having dinner yet.

A pair of feet scrambling around woke me up, and there was Karu! I was overjoyed! I did my best to express that through my voice. I was so proud of being able to be comfortable on my own tonight, and there was balance between my social mission and my self mission, my day and night.

And then, Karu's voice started to sound too loud. He said I should go eat ahead of him. His adrenaline was clearly still pumping. He just got finished with his long errands. For some reason, he scared me. No, the phrasing is wrong: I was scared of him. All he did was give me a light tap to the cheek as a jest form of reprimand when I wanted to say that I had fun waiting for him tonight without panicking or blaming for the first time in a long time.

Then I cried. Quietly as I can. It was hard to breathe. I needed the open window.

And then Karu's energy calmed down amd he wondered what was going on. He did well trying to comfort me and be as safe as he can be even though he didn't know yet that I was afraid of him. But I got to tell him, after a few minutes of being mute. I know he was worried about me. He only really was doing what he can to take care of me.

But that's also why Ma used to beat me up when I was a kid. (I'm thinking now that maybe my childhood reflexes are related to this.) As a kid, I understood enough that she really loved me, and she only ever wanted the best for me. No one can be perfect. Everyone has flaws. One of my angelic mother's was poor anger management. (Even Karu's better at it now than she was before. But she recovered and improved A LOT before she died.)

Everyone has flaws. I wanted to be able to embrace hers. I wanted to understand her better. I wanted to make it work. And we did love each other a lot. But punches still hurt, that's the thing. A slap on the lips tear open the skin and blood comes gushing out. It all still hurts. So in some way, I had to develop my own way of defending myself. I would get destroyed if I didn't.

Fear. Fear became a new sensation. It protected me, and motivated me to keep away from harm, from damage my little body is not built to take. I began internalizing all the unintentionally hurtful things she started to say. I was wrong, I was stupid, I was useless, I was... Many things. All those things, she proved deserved pain.

(Please don't hate my mom. She didn't know how to cope well. We were four siblings, and she had to take care of all of us. In a traditional Chinese family, the dad only takes care of business. Moms hire helping hands but would still prefer to take care of all the children anyway.

It's not her fault. And it's also my responsibility to learn to take care of myself better.)

But now I should know better. I'll be okay.

I'm still learning.

Anyway, so when Karu became a potential threat in my mind, two things happened that led to a major thing:

(1) I got scared of him. I preferred to be inferior and quiet to him. I started to feel that I make wrong decisions and that I can't make decisions, and my feelings don't matter.

(2) I felt discouraged. I feel guilty about wanting to celebrate my latest self improvements.

...And my posture broke.

I'm not kidding. This is a major thing to me. I adapted to the dancer's upright posture, and it honestly gives me a good flow of energy. Having the posture gives me energy, and having energy gives me the posture.

But it broke. Unconsciously. I notice that my back is slouched when I feel depressed or weak or inferior or shit. So you know. Quite a big thing to realize.

Now, writing all these things and accomplishing one of my missions (putting thoughts into words a.k.a. Oral Thought Expression) were good. I told Karu my perspective of today and tonight.

And he gave me his. I've calmed down.

2019-02-21 23:03 Philippines Thursday

This part of my head must somewhat be rewired though. It's better to replace this reaction where I drop myself and roll into a ball (not literally, although I would hug my knees and break my posture so I guess the ball part isn't far off).

It's another thing to overwrite.

But how?

A raised voice isn't exactly a trigger though. I deal with those reactions "excellently" as people at work would say. I humble myself (but not belittle) and allow the other party to have time to cool down. Their favorite was that I​ don't hold any of it against them personally. Apparently I was good at handling prideful doctorate professors.

I am sidetracked. A raised voice does not suffice as a trigger.

Here are the noticeable requirements. They must all exist:

(1) raised voice (has to be directed at me, claiming the stress/problem is BECAUSE of/IS me whether or not it's true)

(2) physical contact/pain

(3) the source being someone I deeply love or highly respect

Sometimes number (2) is not necessary. Like my father's case. I immediately feel all the things he blurts out when he's desperate to be in control are true—ignorant, unbecoming, stupid, dumb, stupid, a waste of resources, a waste of time. I wouldn't give a shit if one of my highschool friends told me that, but because it's him, I instantly take the inferior position and join him in beating myself up mentally.

I'm not isolating this possibility to mere coincidence either. It's the same with my beloved sister Nynaeve who has never done anything particularly abusive to me. There were at least two instances when she snapped from so much stress and her words ripped though me. I took it to heart emotionally even though I knew the truth was that she was just stressed. I almost immediately assumed a surprising inferior position then, and almost cried, feeling like I'm going to be deprived of my sister's love forever. That was unusual because we always treated each other as equals, and I usually responded to her stress in a calm manner (so I guess the difference that made it was that the stress in those specific instances was directed at me).

Heck, when I was raped and physically beat up, I had full capacity to speak calmly and I even tried fighting back (when his skills were proven lethal, I resorted to calming him down. Instant victory/ escape weren't options).

His identity in my emotional aspect still freaked me out so much after the incident though, but less so now. I still don't think myself a victim. I don't give enough shit about him to be hurt, other than physically. In a way, you could say I'm only really actually hurt mentally/emotionally.

So now, what are the things I can do?

(1) Of course, communication is a must. Since this is the human condition that I have, it's important to let the other party know, while making sure they know they are not a monster and I am not a victim. I was just too used to feeling like one, so I now have this victim reflex (oh that's a good name)

(2) Take time off. It's necessary to have a quiet time to recover and assess the situation inside and outside properly. It would allow me to both (a) be reminded that it's just my victim reflex acting up, and (b) be available to empathize and understand more clearly the why of the other party's actions.

This ensures that I am in a proper state of mind before I choose my next moves.

2019-02-21 23:52 Philippines Thursday

[itsfinancethings]

On the cusp of Donald Trump’s Senate impeachment trial in January, Val Demings went to dinner at a Washington seafood joint, the Salt Line, with her colleague Hakeem Jeffries. The two Representatives had recently been chosen, with five other House Democrats, to present the case to remove the President from office–the first two Black presidential impeachment managers in American history. As they discussed the weight of the role, Jeffries, the chair of the House Democratic Caucus, made a prediction. “When this is all said and done,” he told Demings, “you’re going to be on the short list for Vice President.”

“Get out of here,” Demings said.

“I just have that feeling, Val,” Jeffries insisted. “The world is getting ready to see what we here in Congress already know about who you are.”

Jeffries was right. This summer, Demings, 63, has shot up the list of candidates to be Joe Biden’s running mate. Her rise began with the impeachment trial, where she turned complicated arguments about Trump’s conduct into straightforward language. It has accelerated in recent weeks amid the nationwide racial-justice protests following George Floyd’s death in Minneapolis. As Biden faces pressure to add a woman of color to the ticket, and to repel Trump’s claims that he’s soft on crime, Demings may be a match for the moment: a Black woman from the battleground of Florida who capped a 27-year career in law enforcement by becoming Orlando’s first woman police chief in 2007. In one USA Today/Suffolk poll conducted at the end of June, 72% of Democrats said it was important to them that Biden choose a woman of color.

Biden has confirmed that Demings is among nearly a dozen women on his list. But her candidacy faces challenges as well. Biden, 77, has said he’s looking for a running mate who is “ready to be President on Day One.” Demings is only in her second term representing Florida’s 10th District, a short political résumé for national office. And to some of the Black voters whom Biden is counting on in November, her career in law enforcement is not an asset. Demings was “a leader within an institution that is inherently violent, racist, patriarchal and protective of capitalism,” says Charlene Carruthers, an organizer in Illinois with the Movement for Black Lives. “It’s not simply enough to have someone who looks like me as the vice-presidential nominee. I’m interested in someone who shares my values and is aligned with our vision.”

Joe Burbank—Orlando SentinelDemings at the scene of a mass shooting in Orlando’s Gateway Center in 2009

Demings rejects the proposition that her record in law enforcement might be a liability in this political climate. “I have no regrets about the career paths that I’ve taken,” she says from her Washington apartment in a June 25 interview with TIME. But her chances to become Vice President rest in part on whether Demings–and Democrats–can reconcile her identity as a former cop with that of a Black woman in a country where Black people have the most to fear from police. Some on the left see her as a symptom of the problem, not a beacon of progress. This raises some hard questions for Americans. How much should we expect our politicians to account for injustices that are bigger than any one person? Is it fair to ask public servants how their own experiences with racism or sexism guide their approach to fighting such forces stacked against them? And are those who have found success within existing structures an extension of systemic failure or the ones best equipped to fix them?

When Valdez Venita Demings was tapped as Orlando’s police chief in 2007, the announcement reached officers in the department by pager. She was the first woman to hold the role, and kudos poured in–flowers, phone calls, emails. But it didn’t take long for Demings to notice something odd: Congratulations, well-wishers would say. You know that’s a big job.

It was. But no bigger than it had been under the seven male chiefs Demings served under before taking the position. None had been challenged on whether they could do it. The implicit sexism wasn’t a surprise: as she climbed the ladder in the department, she recalls being quizzed on policy by subordinates to see if she knew what she was doing. “When you are a woman and a Black woman,” Demings says, “when you walk into the room, unfortunately, men and women sometimes determine what they think you are capable of.”

Demings was born in Jacksonville, Fla., one of seven children crammed into a two-room house. By age 4, she’d been called racial slurs. Her mother was a maid; her father worked as a janitor, and mowed lawns and picked oranges on the side. Sometimes he had to ask his employers for advance pay to foot the bill for his children’s class trips. Demings took her first job as a dishwasher at 14, and later became the first in her family to graduate from college.

Her first career was as a social worker, working with foster children. In 1983, she left Jacksonville for Orlando, where she joined the police force as a way to save money for law school. But she stayed, drawn to a job where she believed she could help people who needed it. “Every job that she did, every position that she held, she did it with finesse, she did it completely,” says Renita Osselyn, a retired Orlando Police Department (OPD) school resource officer and close friend of Demings’. In 1984, when Demings was a first-year officer and he was a detective, she met her husband, Jerry Demings, who is now the mayor of Orange County, Florida, which contains Orlando.

When Demings became chief, Orlando’s crime rate was at an all-time high, the Great Recession was just around the corner, and the Black Lives Matter movement was still several years away. She set to applying her social-work background to her new role, creating a community initiative, Operation Positive Direction, that paired at-risk youth with mentors. The department also partnered with GED programs, sending officers to homes to check on those who had missed class. Demings says she imposed an early-warning system in 2008 that triggered reviews of officers who showed patterns like those of force, absence and citizen complaints. She says that she saw arrests as short-term solutions and preferred instead to address the root issues that cause “decay” in communities. She boasts of reducing the crime rate in Orlando 40% during her tenure.

At work, Demings was known as a good communicator. Terrell Fawbush, a retired officer, says that when two of Fawbush’s children and a niece died in a car accident in 1995, Demings, then a lieutenant, served as a department liaison to help her through the tragedy. Demings did everything from driving Fawbush to the funeral home to making sure her family had meals figured out. “She knew what was best for me to keep me going,” Fawbush says.

Asked if she regrets anything about her time in law enforcement, Demings says she wishes she could have done more. “Could I have saved one more life? Could I have saved one more officer’s career? Could I have protected someone in the community more? Of course, I would never say I was perfect.”

It’s a careful answer, similar to a job applicant saying their greatest weakness is trying too hard or caring too much. But it’s difficult to imagine she does not have specific regrets. Like the time she left her vehicle unlocked and had her department-issued firearm stolen. Or the 2010 incident in which an officer, Travis Lamont, broke the neck of an 84-year-old veteran, Daniel Daley, while performing a “dynamic takedown,” according to the Orlando Sentinel. At the time, Demings, who left her post as chief in 2011, found the technique to be “within department guidelines” but ordered a review of the policy. Daley was awarded $880,000 by a federal jury. Demings says that as a result of the ensuing policy review, the department modified its policies “to require the engagement of second officer to more effectively manage individuals during disturbance calls.”

The Daley incident was highlighted in a 2015 Sentinel investigation that found the OPD used force more than twice as often as other similar-size agencies. Most of the time period covered by the report was after Demings left the OPD. But critics say that as chief Demings failed to address the department’s cultural problems. “Val Demings is part of the establishment here in central Florida,” says Lawanna Gelzer, a community activist in Orlando. Asked whether the OPD has systematic failures when it comes to use of force, Demings demurs, saying that “every agency has a responsibility to always look within itself and try to improve.”

Shortly after retiring in 2011, Demings set her sights on politics. She ran for Congress in a Republican-leaning district in 2012, coming within 4 points of the GOP incumbent. In 2016, she ran again, in a redrawn district that favored Democrats, and won.

In January, Demings was the only nonlawyer among the team of impeachment managers. Trial days ran late, after which the managers received packets they needed to be ready to discuss by early morning. Demings was battling bronchitis. But she made a mark. At one meeting, recalls Ashley Etienne, an adviser to House Speaker Nancy Pelosi, several of the lawmakers were discussing the day’s material. Demings interrupted. “I just think it’s really simple,” she said. “It’s right vs. wrong. And what the President did is wrong.”

In early May, weeks after he’d committed to picking a woman for the role, Biden told a Florida television station that Demings was one of “close to a dozen really qualified and talented women who are on the list” of potential running mates. Perhaps the biggest question for Biden’s team is whether Demings’ record in law enforcement is a boon or a burden in this political environment. She has responded to the protests by saying that if she was still an officer, she would be out taking a knee with protesters, and wrote a Washington Post op-ed asking her “brothers and sisters in blue: What in the hell are you doing?” She has called for reviews of law-enforcement hiring policies and police training standards.

“If the argument is going to be she’s not Black, she’s blue, then God help us all,” says John Morgan, a Florida attorney, Democratic donor and longtime Demings backer. “I don’t know where it ends.” But progressives point to her 2018 support for the Protect and Serve Act, which makes it a federal crime to knowingly assault law-enforcement officers, as a troubling sign. She’s not the only Democrat who’s come under scrutiny for her record in law enforcement. Senator Amy Klobuchar, a former Minnesota prosecutor, dropped out of the vice-presidential running after Floyd’s death in response to criticism of her record. Progressives have challenged Senator Kamala Harris over her criminal-justice record.

Biden has cast himself as a transitional figure, someone grooming the next generation of Democratic leaders. Whomever he picks as a running mate could be a top contender for the Democratic presidential nomination as early as 2024. For Demings, that would be a meteoric rise. In our interview, I asked her whether she would be prepared to become President. “I’ve chosen tough jobs in my lifetime,” Demings says. “Regardless of where this path takes me, just as I’ve been ready before, I’m sure I’ll be ready again.”

–With reporting by MOLLY BALL and JULIA ZORTHIAN

[secondaryshade]

Straw Hat R&D Team (chapter 1)

So here is a chapter of a fanfic based on A Gem In The Rough and it’s sequel.

Essentially it’s a fanfic where Peridot creates Straw Hats R&D team.

---------------------------------------------- 

-The Firstest Meeting-

 In Beach City at evening, in a building that was freshly build, a group of individuals has gathered to meet.

Four figures sat around a round table in a well-lit room. One of the individuals carried set of googles on his head and had a long nose that makes him look a lot like a liar.

The long-nosed individual gave an annoyed response with a wave of hand. “Oi!”

Right of this figure sits a feminine figure that has a rather large white gem on her forehead, while sporting a slender figure and fair skin.

This individual is giving dirty looks to the figure right of her. “Couldn’t you have at least worn a proper clothing for the meeting!”

The said individual was muscular man with some oddly shaped body parts was not ashamed of his lack of clothing. Having only underpants, open Hawaii shirt and sunglasses.

He grinned and pushed his glasses up with his finger as he responded proudly. “It would take away from my super persona, birdie”.

The last and smallest person in the room was green skinned, had blond triangular hair and a green gem on her forehead.

And yes, she was also the loudest person in the room. “Can you clods shut your mouthpieces off, so I can finally start this meeting proper!?”

Usopp, Pearl and Franky stared at her silently with straight faces.

“Thank you.” Said Peridot as she rose from his chair to stand on the table. She then levitated her tablet to herself and started looking at its screen and then gleefully declared. “I, Peridot declare the firstest meeting of the Straw Hats R&D Team… open!”

Usopp leaned towards Pearl and put his hand on his mouth to whisper. “Is she aware that, ‘firstest’ isn’t a word?” Only for Pearl to respond by shaking her head.

Peridot started walking on the table as she was looking at her tablet. “First things first, we are going to do a name call.”

Pearl gave out a long sigh. “Surely we are all aware by now who are part of this team”.

The tiny gem dropped her shoulders as she frowned from Pearl’s statement. “Fine, we’ll skip it.” She then proceeded take a deep breath and continue her pacing back and forth. “Next subject on the list is the suggestion list made by our crew mates.”

Franky looked exited behind his sunglasses as she made that statement. “Well, we better start looking into them.”

“The first one in the list is…” The little one dragged her words until she started looking at her tablet sideways. “Whatever this is.”

Usopp motioned for her to give it to him, but the moment he saw what was tablet, his face froze. “I know what this is.”

Pearl and Franky made curious faces at Usopp while Peridot adopted frown. “Then tell us already.”

Usopp still holding a frozen deadpan face. “It’s Luffy, inside a robot.”

The moment Peridot heard it, she stumbled with her feet and fell of the table on her back. “THAT’S A ROBOT?!?!?”

Pearl frowned. “Somehow I am not surprised about the quality of the drawing nor the suggestion.”

Franky on the other hand leaned into his chair, put his hand onto his chin while looking up to the ceiling thoughtfully. “A robot huh? That sound good for a first project for this team.”

Pearl turned towards Franky swiftly. “No, we are not doing a robot for the captain. Why would he even need a robot, he is practically a biological machine of destruction himself!”

“Also, I don’t believe Luffy could control a robot.” Usopp added finally not having his deadpan face, but a worried one.

“Maybe we could create a robot suit for somebody else then.” Franky wondered.

“Good suggestion.” Came from under the table. She then proceeded to climb back onto the table. “We’ll keep it mind.” She straightened her up after climbing top of the table. “Next on the suggestion list!” The gem then looked at Usopp and the tablet in his hands.

Usopp wondered for a moment before he realized he had her table still in his hands. “Oh, here you go.” He said as he gave it back.

She then continued to walk on the table as she read of the next suggestion off the tablet. “From Sanji there is a request to have better traps around the food supply so the Captain doesn’t cause us to starve…”

Franky raised his eye brow. “Is that really an issue we have to deal with?”

From the other side of the table a groan could be heard. “Sadly, yes. If Sanji wasn’t so active about stopping Luffy from eating food, we would have starved by now… Several times over.”

From the right side of the liar Pearl made a smug looking face. “Well perhaps you should try giant mouse traps.”

“Did it already.” Usopp deadpanned.

The fair lady got flustered upon hearing the statement. “You are actually treating the captain like he is some vermin that eats your food stock?!”

“Yes.”

Peridot interrupted the discussion by stomping the table. “All right, understood!” She then frowned. “This might actually be a serious issue we need to deal with, but how do we stop the captain?”

Cyborg stood up, then put his right foot on the table and posed. “We create SUPER guard robots to defend the food supply!”

The little gem on the table looked up to the Franky with stars in her eyes. “Yes, that’s a great idea cyborg!”

Usopp and Pearl looked at each other moment and then looked at the other pair. “No.”

“Why not!?”

Pearl then proceed to bring out holographic imagery of Luffy and bunch of robots duking it out in the ship. However, the longer it went, the more apparent it became what happens to the ship surrounding the fight.

Peridot proceeded to sit on the table in silence and Franky did the same with the chair.

Usopp gave a long sigh. “You know guys, we have to be realistic, we can’t do absurd ideas like that, we need to make the idea so that it doesn’t damage the ship or waste resources.

Pearl started rubbing her forehead “Sometimes I wish we had seastone, it would be quite simple to make the fridge and the food storage handles just be made of seastone”

“A bit frivolous usage of the material, isn’t it?” Usopp questioned.

“Quite.”

Franky looked at Usopp and took his sunglasses off “What exactly made the giant mouse trap effective?”

“Oh, well it caught Luffy often.” He remarked.

“Wouldn’t it have caused a lot of noise?” Peridot asked.

Usopp started rubbing his eyes. “Yeah, woke me up several times.”

Pearl started wondering. “Wouldn’t Luffy get out of the trap with his strength anyways?”

Peridot looked at Pearl. “Yeah, he got stuck between two buildings and still got out of it. There is no way a simple trap could hold him!”

Franky sees Usopp getting into thought, then after staring him for a good 5 seconds, suddenly Usopp jerks up from his chair and yells. “That’s it!”

Others looked shocked by his sudden movement. “What is?!”

That moment Usopp got a smug grin, closed his eyes and deepened his voice. “Wouldn’t you want to know?” The others watched him silence, while Usopp had his eyes still got eyes closed. “Usopp-sama can you tell the solution to the problem!”

Moment later Usopp found it be a bad idea to have closed his eyes or act so smug about knowing something. Because he opened his eyes to Peridot yelling loudly and the first thing he saw was her jumping towards him.

Next thing he knew was pain in his chest as Peridot tackled him, then he felt like lost his footing and now was in the air, proceeding to hit his back into the chair only to for the chair to follow the momentum of falling all the way to the ground.

The end result being that Peridot and Usopp are groaning on the ground while the latter muttering a word like it was his last breath. “S-Sanji.”

While Pearl rushed to help them get back up, Franky started thinking about what Usopp just said. Gears in his heads were turning as he was thinking about how Sanji relates to their issue.

Meanwhile Peridot is already climbing back on to the table to get to the tablet she dropped. Pearl on the other hand was helping Usopp up. At that moment, it came to Franky like a lightning from the sky and he was instantly moving onto his signature pose. “SUUUUUUPER!”

In surprise Peridot fell off while climbing back up to table and Pearl dropped Usopp along with his chair. Franky then took his sunglasses from the table and put them on. “You guys want to hear my super answer?”

Pearl was staring at Franky. “Answer to what?”

He pointed his finger to them in exaggerated fashion. “The answer why the mousetrap was effective even though Luffy could get out, because frankly my dear birdie, the answer is elementary.”

Now Peridot had risen up onto the table in faster fashion so she could listen to the Franky’s revelation, while a painful whisper could be heard from the ground. “S-Stealing m-my idea…”

Franky started wagging his finger in front of them. “It isn’t the trap itself that stopped Luffy, but what happened after the trap had activated.” Franky now sported a shit eating grin. “What the activation of the trap truly did, was a loud noise that could be heard all the way to the sleeping quarters. Meaning that not only could Usopp hear it, but Sanji as well.”

Pearl opened her mouth, but no sound would come out. Peridot however seemed to get the same lightning strike as Franky. “That means that we don’t need to create trap good enough for to trap our captain, but to alert the Sanji!”

“O-oi!” Usopp rose back from the floor like a reborn phoenix. “That was my idea.”

Peridot pointed from the top of the table at Usopp. “Well it was your own fault for delaying the answer, you clod!”

Usopp pointed back at her. “I don’t want hear any of that from someone that thinks ‘Firstest’ is actually a word!”

At this point Pearl intervened between them. Looking at Usopp who was still pointing at Peridot. “Hold on you two, there is no need to keep arguing anymore…” She stopped speaking as she saw Usopp’s face adopt look of confusion.

Then she turned to Peridot’s direction and saw her palms and knees on the table while Peridot herself was looking shocked and depressed at the same time. “I-I can’t b-believe I the Straw Hats Inventor a-and the leader of the Crystal Gems c-could make such a mistake i-in a official meeting of R&D t-team…”

However, Pearl paused on the statement “leader of the Crystal Gems”. Only one thing proceeded to leave out of her mouth at that moment. “Whaaa?”

At this point Franky decided to grab Peridot into his armpit. “I think it’s safe to save at this point that everybody could use a super break now.” Franky then gave thumbs up. “So, I will see you all back here in about 15 minutes or so.” Then he left the building while carrying Peridot out with him.

Leaving stunned Usopp and Pearl behind.