#its nice to write about agitated but not irritated emotions

[woo-wahhhh]

[ too much energy ] "kaji..."

"what?!"

"did you seriously just walk into my shop, before class, and already injured?" you scowled back, rolling your eyes as you regarded his relaxed figure in the doorway. a part of you marvelled how he looked perturbed by your disbelief than he was of the blood freshly running down his arm. "you have way too much energy this early in the morning, dude."

"look, clown me all you want, but let's get one thing straight," he grit out. he jabbed a finger vindictively at you, followed by the insanely loud clacking of his stupid lollipop against his teeth. "i didn't get into a fight."

"colour me impressed," you couldn't help but quip sarcastically, though you motioned him to come closer to where you were rummaging under the counter. you were grateful that being so early, no one had come into buy flowers yet, since it would be a bit of a jump scare to find a man bleeding out.

"shut up," he hissed, glaring perpetually while he took a seat behind your counter, and sticking his arm out. it was amusing, how someone could look annoyed yet so charming in the same action. you almost wanted to comment on the his childish appearance, but you had a feeling he'd slap his headphones on and dash out if you did.

"well?" you prompted, pulling out a first aid kit and setting it on the counter. "what happened to your arm then?"

you could feel his hawkish gaze trail after your every move, scrutinizing each action with such intensity, you couldn't tell if he was pissed off or if he was under an enchantment.

"that granny lost her cat again," kaji said simply.

this boy, you cursed internally as you pulled out disinfectant and bandages. "and?"

"what do you think happened?" he scowled, canines flashing as he grit his teeth at the sting of the ointment. "it fucking scratched me when i caught it." he shook his fringe out of the way, perhaps to properly express his annoyance.

"you look much more handsome when you're angry," you blurted out, reaching up to push his hair back without thinking too much– after all, he was your boyfriend. but more importantly, it was much to his incredibly visible chagrin– by habit, he flinched, automatically trying to grab at his headphones, but he couldn't shake off your grip on his arm, leaving him to clutch one side like a damsel in distress, eyes wide and horrified.

but he calmed down quickly enough when you didn't pay him mind, too accustomed to his shenanigans, humming lightly as you focused on the bandages and keeping the heat from dancing up your spine. there was a simmering tension between you; unspoken, though his eyes were dead set on your nimble movements, the distinct weight of his gaze telling you he wouldn't look away, or more properly, he couldn't.

once you finally looked up from your finished work, you noted his eyebrows were knit together, the permanent glare on his face still written in stone, but his tone was somehow gentler than he let on. "look me in the eyes if you're gonna say stuff like that."

silence ensued, of course, your eyebrows quirking up as the obvious dangled from your tongue.

"kaji, you just looked like you were about to bolt outta here,"

"well, yeah, how else am i supposed to act when you say that?"

"i- i don't know," you stammered, suddenly hyperaware of how he wasn't looking away, how his eyes were practically tracing over every contour of your face with the intensity that could burn. "maybe- maybe act a bit more touched?"

"touched?" he echoed, a bit of incredulous sneer in his voice as he hopped off his seat. the abruptness of it all startled you as your back unwittingly hit the counter, and before you could make your own grand escape, he placed an arm on each side of you, effectively caging you in.

the sudden change up from the incredibly flustered kaji to this steamrolling behaviour made your head spin as you gaze up at him with wide eyes that were only met with a grey, smouldering gaze with the intensity of a storm.

"here," kaji swiftly popped out the lollipop from his mouth, holding it to you. you hesitantly took it from his hand, the question of "what the hell, dude?" bubbling at your lips when without a warning, he grabbed your face and kissed you.

short and sweet, but somehow still awfully fierce for that early in the day– you expected nothing less from ren kaji.

"now what was about?" you giggled as you pulled back, dotingly reaching up to smear your lip gloss onto his chapped lips. an act of giving and receiving, one could even say, since he'd left you with the sickeningly sweet taste of caramel on your tongue. "do you like it when i call you handsome?" you teasingly chimed.

"shut up," kaji grumbled once again, pushing his hair back and pressing his forehead against yours. "you looked cute and i just felt like it, that's all." maybe to someone else, that wasn't a fulfilling response, but you knew how straightforward kaji was, and that he wouldn't lie about something like that.

"well, if you're feeling like it then," you whispered, your lips bumping into his as you spoke, "you should kiss me again."

"demanding," kaji huffed out, though he hoisted you up onto the counter anyways without breaking a sweat, a small, but cocky smile on his face when you grabbed onto his shoulders for dear life.

"oh my god, at least warn me!" you complained. maybe you really should have kept an eye on the door, but with his figure before you, and slotted between your legs and the his hand gently coaxing you forward by the nape of your neck, it was hard to care.

"you have way too much energy to yap in the morning," he chided indignantly, but the way he was already leaning up suggested otherwise.

"hey, you're the one who–!"

"morning, (name)! did kaji already pop by– oh,"

"w-w-we'll just– uh– s-see you at school, k-kaji!?" enomoto managed to croak out before they both scurried away with mildly red faces, reminding you less of the teenage gang members they were and more of children.

you almost fell off the counter, had it not been for kaji's reflexes, but the damage had been done, and the lollipop he'd entrusted you with fell to the floor with a dull thud as enomoto and kusumi blinked at the two of you with horrified expressions.

"hey boys," you greeted casually with a wave.

"oh my, we've made a scandal, darling," you joked– regrettably, or so you thought later in the day when the rest of the tamon team's second years started cooing at at poor kaji. perhaps it was a lesson to not be so energetic in the mornings from then on.

[geodax]

ooh how about ‘kick them while they’re down’ with Padmé finding and rescuing Obi-Wan while he’s being beaten after an interrogation by the separatists, and her getting him to safety? thank you in advance if you choose to write it!

Kick Them While They’re Down

warnings- torture, manipulation 

His shoulders and wrists are aching by the time he comes too. The cuffs are wide enough that they don’t cut too deeply into his wrists, which would be nice, if the extra width had not been used to house a Force inhibiting field.

Obi-wan shifts his weight onto his feet. The ache in his shoulders and wrists doesn’t let up, and likely won’t until he’s had a dunk in a bacta tank. This certainly isn’t a physically safe restraint position, but he doubts anyone would listen to his complaints. The Separatists have had very little respect for prisoners of war, especially when those prisoners were Jedi.

He tugs lightly on the chain holding his cuffed hands above his head, wincing as it agitates his bruised wrists. It holds firm. He briefly considers trying to yank the chain out of its anchor point, but the bolts on the ceiling are heavy and welded into place. The locks on the cuffs are electronic and leave him with little hope of picking or even breaking the lock. The tiny electrodes he finds on the interior are probably there to shock him should he try to tamper with them.

Wonderful.

He shifts his weight from one foot, then to the other. Anakin will never let him hear the end of it if he has to come rescue Obi-wan again. However, escaping on his own isn’t looking like much of an option. There’s a rather sizable airduct in the ceiling, a design flaw on most Separatist ships he will forever be grateful for, but the ray shield over it will keep him out even if he could free himself from the chains.

The cell door slides open with low hiss. And Obi-wan almost laughs aloud. Clearly, they hadn’t wanted to wait for Grievous or a proper interrogator. He’s barely been waiting long enough to be nervous about what’s coming. It would have been a clear indication of his new opponent’s inexperience if the ridiculous get-up he had chosen hadn’t been indication enough.

The dark, velvet cloak the man stands within is almost cartoonishly large. The clothing underneath is covered in gold pendants shining so brightly he must have polished them moments before arriving.

It’s actually rather flattering the man felt the need to dress up for the occasion.

The accompanying guards hang back in the doorway, their blasters well out of Obi-wan’s reach. He supposes it’s too much to hope that his new friend would have made such an obvious mistake.

“Hello there,” Obi-wan says with a smile he knows irritates his enemies to no end. They always demand submission, which is easy enough to deny them, even when he’s bruised and bloodied. It really doesn’t take much effort. “I’m Obi-wan Kenobi. Who might you be?”

The fist to his gut is exactly the answer he expected. His interrogator is young and inexperienced, prone to allowing his emotions to rule him. He’ll make a mistake, which Obi-wan will be happy to exploit.

Eventually.

Another punch to his stomach knocks the wind out of him. Obi-wan lets the smile fade slightly. The interrogator smirks.

“I want your communication codes, Jedi,” the man says.

“And I want a warm bath,” Obi-wan says. “And perhaps a vacation.” The slap to his face isn’t a surprise, but it had been far too difficult to resist the opening. Perhaps he’ll get in a few more witty one-liners before they gag him and effectively end the interrogation.

“We’ll see how long that famous Jedi resolve holds out.” The man draws a pair of sheers from his belt and swiftly cuts through Obi-wan’s belt.

Obi-wan isn’t sure what exactly the man was expecting, but he clearly doesn’t get it. With a huff of irritation, he quickly attacks the rest of Obi-wan’s tunics, shredding and removing them with far less ease than the man was probably hoping for.

“You could have at least bought me a drink first,” Obi-wan says with a wink.

The man’s face twists with disgust. “As if I’d ever waste my time with you, Jedi scum,” he says. The small cluster of butterflies in Obi-wan’s stomach dissolves. He’s not dealing with a sexual sadist. That won’t save him any pain, but at least the man won’t be too creative with it. This isn’t the kind of man who has spent hours contemplating how to make people like Obi-wan scream.

The sheers are soon replaced by a heavy baton. “Give me your access codes,” the man says. “Or suffer the consequences.”

Obi-wan wonders if the man had practiced that line in the mirror before arriving here. It’s far too theatrical not to be rehearsed.

The blow is heavier than Obi-wan expected and forces bile up his throat. He coughs it out, narrowly missing the man’s polished shoes, much to Obi-wan’s disappointment.

“Disgusting,” the man mutters. Obi-wan raises an eyebrow. What had the man expected? Surely, he knows enough basic anatomy to know what happens when a human is hit in the stomach hard enough.

Another blow strikes, harder this time, not to his stomach, but to his knees. His wrists and shoulders protest as all his weight is forced onto them. He quickly gets back to his feet.

More blows faller, each one harder than the last. Blood dribbles down his arms when the cuffs finally break through the skin.

They’re a dozen blows in before Obi-wan realizes his mistake. This is no inexperienced interrogator. He’d put on a show, but the strikes are too precise and powerful to belong to a first time torturer. None of the hits have even come close to fatal. The strikes to his back have avoided his vulnerable kidneys. The blows to his chest were hard enough to rattle his ribcage, but not to break the bones. Painful, yes, but not serious.

All designed to keep him alive long enough to answer their questions.

Frustration won’t lead to the man making a mistake. He’s too in control of himself and far too practiced to grow frustrated quickly enough for Obi-wan to be physically capable of taking advantage of any mistakes.

But anger might.

The butterflies are back, fluttering wildly inside him. This is going to hurt. A lot.

“That the best you can do?” Obi-wan asks. “I’ve been hit harder by younglings.”

The next blow is harder, but still precise. Not losing control.

Obi-wan twists with the next blow, easing the impact and allowing him a moment to think. The man expects derision and overconfidence. He knows the methods of torture resistance and probably has a pharmacy of drugs prepared to prevent meditative states and dissociation at hand. But he’s too young to be truly experienced. It’s what made his initial ruse so effective.

So, Obi-wan does what he does best: endures.

He endures the beating and what follows. Small, circular burns spread across his back, then around to his chest, from brands, acid, and electrodes, each more painful than the last. His teeth crack as electricity, high voltage and low amperage, is sent though his body so many times he loses count. The blood on his arms grows tacky, then dries.

He does not scream or whimper or cry out. It takes every ounce of self-control that has ever been drilled into him to keep his mouth shut. The pain is only growing, the man turning up the voltage with each passing minute.

But it’s working.

The man’s movements are less calculated. His experience is bleeding through the façade he had maintained. Tension is building within him as he finds himself unable to make Obi-wan scream.

The man stops and shrugs off his ridiculous cloak. He knows by now he’s revealed his skill to Obi-wan. There’s no point in pretending further, so he won’t hold back any longer.

And Obi-wan will have to help him along.

“You’ll find the synthetic nerve cluster under my arm to be particularly sensitive,” Obi-wan says.

The man freezes, moments from jabbing the electrode into Obi-wan’s spine again. “What?”

“The healers had to replace it after a speeder accident several years back. It works well enough, but it isn’t as integrated into the body as organic nerves, leaving it unprotected and far more responsive.”

“Why would you tell me that?” the man asks, circling around Obi-wan with narrowed eyes.

“It seems like you need some help. As a Jedi, it is my sworn duty to be of assistance to you.”

“Then give me your access codes.”

“That would result in many lives lost. I cannot allow it. But I am, otherwise, at your service,” Obi-wan says with his most pleasant smile.

The man scowls and jabs the end of the electrode under Obi-wan’s arm.

The choked-off scream that follows is uncontainable. The electricity rakes over the fragile synthetic nerves and through the rest of his body. It leaves a trail of fire in its wake, a sense of being burnt from the inside out.

Obi-wan sucks in a breath of air when he regains control of his body. He had seriously underestimated how much this would hurt.

The interrogator is staring at him with narrowed eyes.

“Not a bad start,” Obi-wan says.

The man’s eye twitches. There’s a script to these meetings that Obi-wan knows he isn’t following. The taunting and derision are supposed to be aimed at the man’s disguise, not for his true self. The interrogator is supposed to be in complete control of everything here. The man had depended on that control, needed it to keep himself balanced.

But Obi-wan has no intention of giving back control.  

“Increase the voltage and try again. Normally I’d suggest experimenting with other body parts, but you don’t seem particularly patient.”

“Shut up,” the man says.

“Come on,” Obi-wan says, smiling with blood-covered teeth. “What are you waiting for? A written invitation?”

“I—” His eyes dart over towards the door and the guards.

“Come on!” Obi-wan yells. “Do your fucking job and hurt me!”

The man is crumbling, but not into rage. He’s on the verge of tears, his ego torn to shreds before an audience that he had probably struggled to gain the respect of. The guards are already shaking their heads and smiling amongst themselves. Laughter will follow before long.

Obi-wan can’t let him flee. The moment he’s gone, all progress will be lost. By the time he’s recovered, Grievous or another of the Separatists will have arrived. And they’ll be more than ready to counter Obi-wan’s manipulations. “Or are you too much of a coward?” Obi-wan asks.

Finally, a spark of rage. And then the electrode jabs into his side again.

There is pain, more pain than there should be, but Obi-wan doesn’t care. He’s so close.

“You missed,” Obi-wan says.

The man snaps. His hand darts forward and grabs Obi-wan’s jaw. “You think you’re so fucking great, don’t you? Look at me!” Obi-wan bares his teeth as the man’s nails dig painfully into his skin. “I’m in control! You’re just another mouthy prisoner that doesn’t know how to speak to his betters.”

“My betters? I’d hardly call you—”

The man punches him in the mouth, breaking his own fingers on Obi-wan’s teeth.

It’s the mistake Obi-wan’s been waiting for.

The man gasps through the pain, then glares up at Obi-wan with hatred in his eyes. Obi-wan glances pointedly at his hands with a smirk. “I don’t need my hands to hurt you, Jedi,” the man growls.

He releases the chain holding Obi-wan to the ceiling. And Obi-wan falls. Agony crashes over his body, through the burns and bruises, through numb arms and hands as the blood flow returns, through aching legs that had been standing for too long.

Then the kicking starts. “Stupid fucking Jedi! You freaks should have stayed in your fancy temple where you belong, away from the rest of us! This isn’t your war!”

Obi-wan grunts when the man’s boot slams into his back. He casts a quick glance at the guards. They’re watching, but not moving in. Perfect.

He takes one final breath as the feeling returns to his fingers. This is going to hurt. So much.

Obi-wan grabs the man’s ankle before he can hit him again. The man screams when Obi-wan sharply twists, breaking the bones. The guards are on him a moment later, bringing their blasters within grabbing range of the Jedi.

It takes only seconds more to finish them off.  

Obi-wan collapses against the wall, breathing hard. His entire body screams in protest of each movement, but he can’t wait here any longer. No doubt someone is watching the security feed of his cell. And if they aren’t, Grievous’s armies will be here soon enough to cut off his escape.

He spits blood from his mouth, then crawls over to his dead jailers. Their frozen eyes stare at him. He swallows. There was nothing else he could have done. He didn’t have the physical strength left to face them in hand-to-hand combat and there were no stun settings on their blasters.

But they weren’t trying to kill him, just to contain him. They were living beings. They believed they were doing what was right.

Obi-wan closes his eyes and stops that line of thought before it gets away from him. He did what he had to do to defend himself.

And he’ll likely have to do it again the way this war is going.

It doesn’t make it any easier.

He digs through their pockets and finds the cell door override, but no release key for the cuffs around his wrists. Unfortunate, but not unexpected. They wouldn’t have planned on using it.

The dull hum of the ray shield above him suddenly stops. He looks up at the air vent it had once shielded and finds a familiar face looking down at him.

“Padme!” he says with a smile, before considering that blood-stained smile can be rather unpleasant.

“Obi-wan,” she says, but doesn’t return the smile. “I guess I’m a little late to rescue you.”

“I’m still glad to see you. I take it that Anakin is outside providing a distraction.”

“He was supposed to,” Padme says as she drops down from the ceiling. She’s unusually stiff and shifts subtly away when he steps towards her.

She’s afraid of him, he realizes. How long was she watching from the vent, waiting for the chance to come to his aid? How much did she see?

He never intended for anyone he knew to see him in those moments where he stood toe to toe with enemies and forced them to back down. He kept this ferocity tightly contained, even around Anakin and Cody. They were never meant to know the Obi-wan that was just as capable of violence and manipulation as their enemies, if not more so.

“Are you alright?” he asks her.

Padme finally pulls her gaze away from the dead and meets his eyes. Her posture straightens. “We should go,” she says and hands him an override key for the handcuffs.

“Through the vents?” he asks as he undoes the cuffs. She nods.

He shudders as the Force returns to him. He uses it to dull the pain as it starts to cut through the adrenaline, then nods to Padme.

“I—” Padme says, then stops. She’s noticed the way he’s standing away from her and kept his hands within her eyeline. “I know you’d never hurt me.” She looks down at his bloody hands. ��I just, I’ve never seen this side of you. It scared me.”

“All Jedi are capable of great violence, Padme,” Obi-wan says. “It is part of why we are sworn to peace and justice.”

“But not like you can,” she says, then smiles at him, but it’s too tight and unnatural to be real. He can sense her fear now, even as she tries to tell herself not to be. “I suppose it’s a good thing you’re on our side.”

The whole building shakes before Obi-wan can respond.

“That would be Anakin’s distraction,” Padme says. “Let’s get out of here.”

[alexlabhont]

I didn’t mean to fall in love with you

Chapter eleven

Book: Queen B - Choices (Universe)

Pairing:  Poppy Min-Sinclair x Trans!Male MC (Beck Hughes)

Genre: Canon re-write (Because I can)

Rating: Anyone can read it, really

Tags: @dopeyouth @theymakemegayer @save-me-the-last-dance @poppysmc (If anyone want to be tagged in or removed, just tell me)

This is me trying to write by and for the Trans community, specially FTM community, meaning, trans guys, but I actually took the liberty to use They/them pronouns for everyone out there who´s interested (Also, the name Beck was the most neutral one I could find, trying to use the cannon Bea Hughes)

If you have any comment, PLEASE BE RESPECTFULL and patient with me. This is also my first english fanfic and english is not my mother language, so… i’m sorry fo the grammar errors. I also installed recently Grammary, so… hope its worth it.

This chapter contains some sensitive topics about tragedies and sex insinuations, I really didn't want to write it down with details both out of respect. I mean, personally, I didn't want to explain what's "under" in a fanfic, but if you do have doubts or curiosity, ask away in chat, especially if you are starting hormones, there is a lot for you to know about down there because it definitely changes something. Also, this other topic might touch a nerve and I really didn't do it without respect to the victims, so I'm sorry if it feels like that.

Previously

----

Staten Island it’s the third-largest borough in New York, but it is the least populated. The northern part of the island is the most urbanized, with some areas of somewhat decayed housing blocks that didn’t attract attention at all. It was… ok? quiet? She wasn’t sure exactly what to say about that place, but what was another thing she wasn’t sure about? Well...

“Are you not going to tell me what are we doing?” Poppy asked once again, feeling irritated as they both walked through the breeze but warm streets. At first, she thought they were taking the bus but Beck asked something to a random guy and started walking for a really, really long time, what was all this about? Beck looked tense, kind of nervous, and that alone made her feel strange, unnerved. "Are you alright?" Poppy asked again, but this time she sounded worried.

"Yeah, I'm just…" They exhaled in an attempt to draw their nerves away from themself. "I'm pretty nervous. I've never done this before." Beck chuckled.

"Do what?" Poppy frowned, curiosity floating in her mind strongly, to be honest, she had never seen them so tense before, even though they were trying to look calm. Beck smirked and took her by the hand.

"Come on, I have to show you something."

"Is it too far?"

"Are you already tired?" Beck replied, mocking her with that sassy smile of theirs.

"Me? Absolutely no." She said, raising an eyebrow. "I could literally go for miles."

"I'll have to prove that myself." Beck winked and she couldn't help but laugh.

"You're a dimwit."

"Yeah" they shrugged. "I'm cute, though.”

“Barely.” She rolled her eyes, trying to suppress a smile but failing in the process so Beck laughed at it. Suddenly an unexpected drop felt swiftly in her nose, making her look up to the sky where a big, grey cloud was still above their heads. Soon, she felt raindrops in her hair, her clothes, her shoes!

“Oh, shoot. This is not good…” Beck said while they both walked faster, reaching out for cover in a shop awning.

“You think? These Jimmy choo are not even in the market yet!”

“Well, we don’t want them to be ruined, don’t we?."

"Of course not! What kind of dumb ques—"

Poppy didn't get to end the sentence, Beck took her by the wrist and started running full speed and nonstop. "Beck!" She screamed, the rain pouring down her body while that asshole laughed like a devilish kid. "Beck Hughes, let go of me this instant!!"

"We're almost there!" She heard them saying without turning to see her.

"Where are you taking me?!"

Beck slowed down little by little until they both stopped in front of a tiny, old, yellow house with barely two floors. Beck took the keys out of their pockets and opened the door, allowing Poppy to get inside the dark and quiet place.

“So… here we are.” Beck spoked turning on the lights.

The place that received them was the living room, but it was not an ordinary living room, it had neon lights currently exposing a purple color, a keyboard piano, a couple of guitars, and an old-fashioned mended couch with a lot of patches over black leather that actually looked really well together. The walls were exhibiting posters, framed cool landscape black and white photographs, and a Youtube silver plaque. She recognized the place right away.

“Wait… this is the place where you record your music.” She asked. Poppy watched Beck’s videos a lot recently at first the blonde was searching for information, then, to find a flaw to criticize with Chloe, but sooner rather than later Poppy found out… Beck was actually a really good musician, so sometimes when she was completely sure she was alone she’d listen to their songs while doing cardio or homework or whatever she was doing. “I was wondering where you found the location.”

“Yes… but also no. I mean, I do the videos here, but I have an audio booth upstairs. It’s actually a quiet neighborhood so it came in handy.” Beck took off their jacket, reaching out their hand to ask for Poppy’s. They both were wet, but not a lot, her shoes survived perfectly because they entered the house before a loud thunder sounded, followed by a deluge. “Damn, we do really dodge a bullet out there.”

“Yeah.” Poppy said, hugging herself. Without her coat, she felt a little cold. “Do you own this place?”

"No, this is my uncle’s." Beck whispered with reverence and a sad smile on their face. "My dad's little brother. He passed away."

"I— I'm sorry, Beck…" she managed to say, clueless about what exactly would someone do in this kind of situation.

"I didn't remember much about him, but my mom says he used to make these guitars out of plastic bottles as gifts for me to play them. She said I would go to the kitchen and play one for her to hear. She also said the sound was awful and she begged him to stop making them." Beck's smile was soft, turning on the heating, proud even though they were chuckling a little, spreading the same smile to Poppy. " 'I'm telling you, this little pal has talent.' he would say."

"Sounds to me like he made it to annoy your mom instead." Poppy said jokingly.

"Totally, he was a prankster." Beck replied, the emotions coming out from their eyes were difficult to tell. "And was one of the few dudes back at Farmsville that didn't want to settle down. The black sheep in every family… and the reason why my parents didn't want me to be here." Beck clutched their jaw, walking away from there to the kitchen. Poppy followed them in silence, feeling like it was something very private for Beck, seeing that vulnerable side of them again, but not hiding this time. "He was murdered years ago here in New York in a shooting. In Farmsville shootings don’t happen, so… They said it was dangerous going out of the farm to the big cities. That he brought this on himself... Took this out of the wrong way." The anger in Beck's voice was palpable in the air.

"Seriously? How can they be so selfish?" Poppy asked, how can someone be so fucking self-centered and dumbass to take a tragedy and blame it on one family member? She thought these things happened exclusively around that bunch of tight-ass people inside her parents’ social circle, but not inside a family farm.

"Back at home is different from here. Is a small town where everyone knows each other. They love routine and hard work and the good customs and shit… So when anyone goes against it… well— it's not funny."

Something clicked inside Poppy's mind.

"But then… How are you here?" Beck smiled but it didn't reach out to their sad eyes.

"Because I almost got killed."

Shock. Poppy couldn't help but feel agitated, her heart pounding loud against her chest and that same protective feeling that almost made her stab Bennett crawled its way towards her own core.

"What?" Poppy babbled, froze. Beck shrugged, with a weird grin as if they didn't know where to start, they caressed their neck, searching for the better way to put the puzzle together. They reach out for Poppy's hand, and she took it right away intertwining her fingers with Beck's.

"Coffee?" They asked. "It seems we will be stuck in here for a while.”

"It sounds nice." The words abandoned her mouth so fast that she even surprised herself, another red alarm ringed inside her mind, but now was not the time, so she ignored it again. Beck smiled and turned on a little coffee maker, bringing two mugs in silence. They both sat down on the surprisingly comfortable couch, Beck’s eyes were attentive at the black drink and the tension was still over their shoulders, she could see it so easily that Poppy wished for someone to take that weight out of Beck, so she took both cups and put them aside, sitting over Beck’s lap and intertwining her fingers with theirs, playing with them. Beck smiled a little and took a deep breath.

"I started to realize something was off inside of me when I was in high school. I mean, ‘till that day I was considered normal. I was the kind of child that played sports, climbed trees, and did hard work gladly. You know, average farm kid." Beck said, but even as they seemed to be calm, Poppy could feel the sweat in their palm, and a little shivering all over their body. "But I grow older and changes came, and puberty and—"

"Hey" Poppy stopped them from talking faster and faster. "You don't have to"

"I want to. " Beck interrupted, begging Poppy with their eyes. "I want you to know my past. I mean… if you want me to tell you, that is."

Poppy could have thought anything at that moment. She could have thought that she made it, that she had accomplished her very goal and knew she was about to have first-hand information to use against Farmsville, that she was spectacular for making it this far. She could have thought that now nobody would take her number one spot from her, or that she loved to have a new puppy to use in any way she wanted. But no.

All in what she could think about was Beck's heart opening up to her, trusting her for real this time. The connection intertwining both of them in a way that made her skin chill. Third alarm, but she muted it again.

"So? What are you waiting for? Go on." Poppy rolled her eyes, Beck had a goofy expression for a couple of seconds until Poppy smiled, squishing slightly their hands for reassurance. Beck's eyes glowed happily in which was the cutest gesture Poppy saw from someone that wasn't a dog in her entire life.

"I managed to handle myself a little for a while, but it definitely didn't last long. I was so afraid, I felt lost, and insecure. I didn’t know what was happening to me, why did I feel that way, trapped in my own skin... I stopped having friends because everyone could see how weird I was and nobody wanted to talk to me, except for this one girl: Bree Matthews."

Beck’s jaw tightened, their eyes wandering all over the place because of the nervousness.

“So, Bree and I started to hang out. Chill some time round. We were close, I mean, really, really close. She was the one who I told about my dysphoria first, and she was totally supportive. She helped me understand what I was going through, sometimes she would borrow her brother’s old clothes to give them to me and helped me pick my very first short haircut. Bree was my safe space in a town where I’d be mistreated just to use a bathroom. I kinda felt for her… so one night into the forest I kissed her. And~ it wasn’t a good idea.”

“What happened?”

“Well~ Daniel and his gang came into the picture and intimidated her, so she sold me as a pervert, a weirdo, among other… awful things. Can’t blame her, Daniel was a wrecked truck whenever he wanted so… yeah. My family found me eight hours after, all beat up from head to toes. I was unconscious and with an actually broken rib.” Beck tried to joke, but it was so bad at timing it actually made it worse for Poppy to hear. “I~ I almost die.” Beck sighed, as if with that they could put all that behind. “Anyway so she apologized to me through a phone call because she wanted to kiss me too but, you know, shit happens; I got better and now I’m in New York doing what I love so… Happy ending, right? It was funny, they didn’t let me use the bathroom but they all thought I was “male enough” to beat the crap out of me ever since.”

Poppy stopped playing with Beck’s hands, making them do the same. They told the end of the story so lightly as if they were talking about a T.V. show they just watched and not some really cruel harassment they went through for a long time. The strawberry blonde was a lot of things, bad things, but the things that beast did to Beck just because of their dysphoria? That was a whole new level that Poppy would never stoop into.

“How can you joke about things like that?”

“Well, I figured I had two ways to address the problem: Being insecure or making the most out of this. That’s why I do music. Yeah, my songs don’t talk about the transgender community directly, but I make sure everybody knows who am I. What I am. I write songs for people out there that feel just the same as I do. Not only transgender people, but the whole LGBTQ+ also needs representation! Folks having their back! And if I can reach at least one soul and show them that no matter how they were born, they can make it… Hell, I could die happily.”

The fire in their eyes, the passion radiating strongly from their body, from their words. It was impossible for Poppy to look away from Beck. Of course, Beck didn’t care about a spot in the T list, or and stupid award. Beck was more into their music, making their voice be heard. That was why they did claim to care less about competition, Beck was climbing their way to the top because of their conviction and resilience. It was curious how the more she learned about Beck, the more she felt drawn to them.

“You are so brave, do you know that?”

“And it only took me a delicate rib and trust issues.” Beck claimed proudly as if it was a bargain.

“Trust issues? Beck, you’re one of the most confident people l know!” They began to laugh, the blonde could feel their laughter below her because of the slight belly-shaking. “It’s irritating.”

“I am really amazing myself.” Poppy rolled her eyes at the flirty smirk Beck flashed towards her. “But I’m not insecure about myself… most of the time. I do have a hard time trusting in people. I mean, Daniel didn’t have a hold on me… Bree, on the other hand…” Beck shrugged. “But I do trust you, Poppy.”

Something inside the blonde felt off, those words accompanied by that good-natured smile made Poppy feel a bit guilty. Like, yeah, she was just trying to archive exactly that for her own benefit, it should feel like a win, right? But no.

“You haven’t done anything wrong, yet.” She said to herself. “For all we know, this is just some casual date.”

Maybe… give up? Maybe actually try and date Beck?

What could possibly go wrong?

“I trust you too, Beck.” She replied without a doubt. So she tossed her golden locks over one shoulder, leaning down to kiss Beck’s lips. She soon felt them kissing her back, sweetly, calmly at first but then it was obvious they both needed more than that. Poppy let go of Beck’s hands to place hers in their Beck, while they grabbed her by the waist. The heat soon took over her body, especially after they responded to it by biting Poppy’s bottom lip, making her moan. Poppy knew right away there was a change in Beck’s behavior, they were more confident, more secure, they actually felt ready and she had to say, that was a very welcome and pleasing development. But they were shaking still.

“What 's wrong? You don’t want to—?”

“No. No, it 's not it. It 's just…” Beck took a deep breath avoiding Poppy's gaze for a second before looking at her pleading while keeping hold on her. “I don’t want you to see me differently when you look at what I have beneath the clothes.” They confessed.

“I won’t. I promise.” She said, caressing the hair in the back of their nape. “This is just you, with all letters.” She smirked, trying to lighten the mood and she succeeded. Beck grinned from ear to ear, relieved, kissing her passionately, hungry and the Poppy did the same, tasting their tongue with hers. The caresses between the two became more intense and she couldn’t stand the fever growing anymore, so she took the edges of their favorite black t-shirt and pulled up, revealing Beck torso for the very first time.

She understood right away what Beck meant. Cutting through their chest there it was a thin, darker line, a scar that was slowly healing, but nevertheless it was there easy to pinpoint. It was strange, she had seen a lot of those mastectomy scars on google but Beck chest looked different somehow, strong, gym crafted, and the scar actually was interesting, sexy even.

“I don’t know what you were so scared of, Hughes. Hell, you’re hot as fuck, I hate you.”

Beck chukled, their confidence coming back.

“Yeah, well… There is not an ugly part on this body afterall.” They grinned.

“I’m going to erase that obnoxious smirk of yours.”

“You will?” Beck grabbed a hold on Poppy’s hair and pulled slightly but demanding backwards, exposing her neck to them to kiss and lick, causing a shaking sigh that turned the heat even higher for both. “Show me then.” They whispered over her skin, their breath brushing bristling her body.

Poppy pushed them down on the couch, kissing them hardly. This was war now, and she would definitely win.

----

Next

[veliseraptor]

Hey just wondering, do you have any draft or work in process or any plan for your next Loki fic? If so can you give us a little sneak peek. Or if you don’t, do you think you’ll write more about him in the future? I know you probably get this a lot and I’m sorry if it’s annoying or if it sounds rude or anything. I’m just wondering and also I’ve been binge reading your stories about him and got addicted so there’s that. But seriously I’m sorry if my message comes off as rude or annoying, that’s not my intention. Anyway hope you’re having an amazing day

I genuinely hate to sound like a broken record, anon, since you are being very polite about this! Which I very much appreciate! But the answer remains more or less the same: I don’t know. I have (counts) 38 different Loki-related WIPs in various stages of completion sitting on my hard drive. I haven’t been working on them actively lately because, to the dismay I’m sure of many of my followers, another fandom has devoured me whole. I’m really enjoying the experience, but it has left me with relatively little brainspace for things that aren’t that thing (or, I guess, other danmei novels and adaptations thereof?? idk okay). 

At some point I would like to finish at least some of those stories, because I do not like leaving things unfinished. But I just don’t know when - or if! - I will. It just depends on if I get that emotional investment back. At the moment it doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen imminently, but who knows. And maybe I’ll go back and reread what I have written of some of these, go “where’s the rest, op” and feel encouraged to write more.

All that being said - since you were so nice about this, I will give you a (3000 word) excerpt from one of the WIPs - Dead Superheroes Walking, which is the one about the characters who died/were dusted in Infinity War on a road trip through the Soul Stone.

---

“Anyone for a game of twenty questions?” Sam asked, after they’d been walking for maybe ten minutes.

“Really?” Bucky said. “Twenty questions?”

“I don’t think ‘I Spy’ would work too well. Not a lot of interesting landmarks. Or hadn’t you noticed that the landscape keeps repeating?”

“I am Groot,” said Groot.

“And I have no idea what that means,” Sam said.

Sam was right, Wanda realized. The landscape was repeating. It wasn’t obvious, at first, but there was only one tree, over and over; only one rock placed near to it. The sky was a flat and even orange.

A faint shiver ran down Wanda’s spine. Bucky stopped, though, visibly disconcerted.

“What the hell is this place,” he said.

“Does it matter?” Sam asked. “We’re not exactly going anywhere else. All right, I’ve got it. Twenty questions, yes or no answers only.”

“I am Groot?” said Groot. Sam eyed him.

“I’m not going to take that off the count,” he said.

“Is it alive?” T’Challa asked.

“Yep,” Sam said.

“Guess that rules us out,” Bucky said. Sam snorted, and T’Challa cracked a small smile. Wanda stared down at a small, triangular rock in front of her feet.

“All right,” Bucky said. “Is it an animal?”

“Yes. Two questions down. Wanda?”

She bent down and picked up the rock. It left red dust on her fingers, and when she pressed her fingers together it crumbled like chalk. She half expected the dust to vanish, but the red stain on her fingertips stayed.

“Wanda?” Sam said, more gently.

“Sorry,” she said. “Is it a person?”

“Nope,” Sam said. “That’s three.”

She wiped her hand off on her clothes. This place wasn’t right - she could feel it in her bones, deep down where her magic ought to be. But nothing had been right in the last few days. Very few things in Wanda’s life had been right. Why should her death be any different?

It only seemed unfair that the others should be here, too.

They sky did not change, but they stopped walking eventually - less because any of them were actually tired than because it seemed like they should. Or maybe because they were tired of walking and wanted some change, even if there was very little change to be had. The road went on. The landscape didn’t alter.

And no one else appeared.

“It can’t just be us,” Sam said. “Other people died. Where are they?”

Nobody had an answer for him, unless the tree’s “I am Groot” was an answer none of them could understand. Wanda thought it might be something to do with the fact that they’d all died when Thanos had snapped his fingers, but she stayed quiet, staring off at the horizon and only half listening to Bucky and Sam going back and forth at each other.

“I see something,” T’Challa said abruptly. They all turned and followed the line of his arm.

“I can’t see anything,” Sam said.

“Give it a sec,” Bucky said. “He’s probably got a hundred extra yards visibility on me. Maybe 150 on you–”

“I am Groot,” Groot said. Wanda strained her eyes, some part of her wishing - hoping–

“Is that a dog?” Sam said.

A moment later Wanda saw it too, and slumped. It did look like a dog padding towards them - or at least, it certainly wasn’t a person.

“That’s not a dog,” T’Challa said.

“Fox, I think,” Bucky said. “What the fuck is a fox doing here?”

“I don’t think it’s a fox, either,” T’Challa said. He shifted, like he was thinking about getting into a fighting stance. Wanda stepped forward, reaching for her powers, but nothing was there.

What would be the point, anyway? You can only die once.

The fox - and it was a fox, Wanda could see that now, though black instead of red - slowed as it began to draw closer. It sat down, still a ways away, and cocked its head, looking at them.

“This is weird,” Sam said. T’Challa was still frowning.

“What is it?” Bucky asked him. T’Challa shook his head.

“I’m not certain.”

The fox stood, stretched, and changed, unfolding into a person. Wanda sucked in a breath, staring at the man now walking toward them: dark-haired, pale, lean and taller than Bucky or T’Challa. A vague sense of familiarity nagged at her, but she couldn’t say from where.

The man stopped, still several paces from them, and cocked his head just as the fox had. “Well,” he said, a faint rasp in his voice. “This is new.”

Wanda stared at him, trying to remember where she recognized him from. “New?”

“Yes,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting anyone else. But then, this time is different.”

“Wait,” Sam said abruptly. “Shit. Are you-”

“Mm,” he said, still looking at Wanda. T’Challa’s eyes were narrowed, too, and Sam’s. Bucky looked blankly at them both.

“What?”

“It’s always nice to be recognized,” the stranger said dryly.

“Loki,” Sam said. “That’s fucking Loki. Right?” Wanda’s eyes widened, but he - Loki - just shrugged one shoulder.

“So I am. Or was. I’m not certain of the appropriate tense.” His gaze swept across them, indifferent, disinterested.

“You’re dead, too,” Wanda said. Loki glanced at her, eyes focusing briefly before they slid back into dullness. No, exhaustion.

“Or something,” he said.

“‘Or something?’” Sam said. Loki’s eyes flicked in his direction.

“This doesn’t feel like death,” he said, “but I remember the feeling of my neck breaking in Thanos’s hand fairly clearly, so…” Wanda flinched, and she thought she saw Sam’s eye twitch. She remembered Thor coming roaring down from the sky, thunder and lightning in his voice, and understood. She looked down.

“What do you mean that this doesn’t feel like death,” T’Challa said into the silence.

“I know a little of what death tastes like,” Loki said after a moment. “This isn’t it.”

“What does that mean,” Bucky said, looking agitated and uncertain.

“I am Groot,” said Groot, and Loki glanced at him, something briefly flashing across his expression before it was gone. Pain, Wanda thought.

“Not entirely accurate,” he said, “but not entirely inaccurate, either.” There was a brief pause.

“You can understand him?” Bucky said. Loki shrugged again. “What did he say?”

“It’s irrelevant.” Loki’s eyes moved back to Wanda. “I suppose it’s too much to hope that you were simply the high cost of victory?” Wanda looked down, somehow feeling ashamed of her failure. Loki let out a quiet huff. “Pity.”

Bucky, oddly, snorted.

“Thanos gained all of the Infinity Stones,” T’Challa said. “Then…” He trailed off. “I am not entirely certain what happened then.”

Loki made a sort of hm noise, glancing at T’Challa sidelong. “So you didn’t die in battle,” he said.

“If so, I do not remember it,” T’Challa said.

“I am Groot,” Groot said to Loki, whose head swiveled violently toward him, eyes sharpening.

“Gamora,” he said, and there was a wealth of hatred and fear in that word. “You are a companion of hers?”

“I am Groot,” Groot said emphatically, and Loki blinked, then pressed his lips together and exhaled in a short burst.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter now.”

“Can you maybe translate what he’s saying,” Bucky said irritably. “Since all the rest of us can hear is the same three words over and over.”

“He says that Gamora claimed Thanos meant to use the completed Gauntlet to halve all life in the universe,” Loki said. “If you know that he achieved his goal, then presumably you were part of the unlucky half. Though that does not explain why you are here. Or else does not explain why I am.”

“And who’s Gamora,” Sam said, with such exaggerated patience that it demonstrated anything but.

“An old acquaintance,” Loki said. He sounded distracted.

“I am Groot,” Groot said, and this time Wanda could hear the near pride in his voice. Loki didn’t respond. He was scanning their number again, Wanda realized, more closely.

She bit her lip, then raised her voice and said, “Thor’s alive.” His gaze snapped to her, and she made herself hold it though her instinct was to look down. “At least, he was when I...he drove an axe into Thanos’s chest. It didn’t work, it was too late, but…” She trailed off.

Loki glanced down, his eyes half closing, and Wanda thought she caught a brief flicker at the corner of his mouth, not quite a smile, and a barely audible, “ah, Thor.” Then his eyes were back on hers and he said simply, “thank you for informing me,” with a lack of feeling that made Wanda frown.

“You haven’t asked who any of us are,” Bucky said.

“So I have not,” Loki said. “I am not certain it is precisely relevant.”

“Excuse you,” Sam said. Loki glanced at him, that tired indifference returning.

“I approached because I was curious. I wasn’t intending to stay, nor would I think you were inclined to encourage it.”

T’Challa was studying Loki with curious intensity. “Were you going somewhere?”

“No,” Loki said, and then paused and adjusted, “perhaps.”

“I am Groot?” Groot said, and Loki’s lips pressed briefly together.

“It means perhaps. And don’t be crude.”

“I’m with him,” Sam said. “What does perhaps mean?” Loki looked briefly annoyed, and Sam said, “come on. We’re all dead here. Or - not. Which still begs the question as far as I’m concerned of what we are.”

Loki’s eyes went back to her, and Wanda shifted. “What?” She asked. “Why do you keep looking at me?”

“You haven’t noticed anything strange, then?” He asked. “Felt anything?”

Too many things, Wanda thought, but she didn’t think that was what he meant, and now they were all looking at her. Wanda hesitated.

“I don’t have my powers,” she said slowly. Loki made a derisive noise.

“Of course you don’t,” he said. “Do you need them to sense what’s around you? Midgardian magicians. Norns.”

Wanda glared at him, but took a breath and tried to turn inward, like she was going to use her power. It still wasn’t there, but this time, without distractions…

She jerked and saw a satisfied glint in Loki’s eyes, just for an instant. “There,” he said.

“Wanda, what is it?” Sam asked, looking suspiciously at Loki.

“I don’t know,” she said. “But it feels like…” She searched for the right words. “Like a heartbeat,” she said finally, even if that wasn’t quite right.

Bucky’s expression was a mixture of horror and alarm. “A heartbeat?”

“So that’s what it feels like to you,” Loki said thoughtfully. He seemed more engaged now than he had been at first, and somehow even though it shouldn’t matter that felt like a good thing. Maybe because nothing else was.

“It’s not actually,” Wanda said quickly. “That’s just sort of what it feels like - to me, anyway. It’s...different for you?”

Loki shrugged. T’Challa shifted.

“I know what she means,” he said. “Though I wouldn’t have described it like that. But there is...something.”

“Interesting,” Loki said, glancing at T’Challa and looking him over with slightly more interest. “To answer your implied question, I would call it a...resonance.”

“A resonance with what,” Sam asked.

“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be bothering to talk to you,” Loki said. “But partly it is that which makes me think this is something other than simple death.”

“What is there other than ‘simple death,’” Bucky said tightly.

“That is the question, isn’t it,” Loki said. “Maybe nothing. Maybe I am wrong. But if I am not…”

“If you’re not, what,” Bucky said, even tighter.

“Then it begs the question of why, doesn’t it?” Loki rolled his neck in a slow circle, and Wanda could have sworn she heard something crack. “At least, such was my thought. But maybe it is just desperation.”

He didn’t sound desperate. He didn’t sound much of anything.

“Why not stay with us,” Wanda said abruptly. Everyone else turned to stare at her, Loki included, and she straightened, turning toward her friends. “I mean it,” she said. “Why not? We’re all here together. And if he’s right and there’s a why, a reason...wouldn’t it suggest that’s true for all of us, including him?” She paused, and added, “and besides - what can he do to us, anyway?”

Loki barked a laugh. “That is a fair point,” he murmured.

“How do we know this isn’t some kind of trick?” T’Challa asked, his eyes narrowed.

“You don’t,” Loki said. “But I will say that you vastly overestimate my interest in you. Well, the majority of you. And your witch has a point: what is it you think I will do?”

“I don’t know,” T’Challa said. “That’s what worries me.”

“And ‘our witch’ has a name,” Sam said a little sourly.

Loki shrugged. “As you will. It makes little difference to me.” He moved around them and started to walk away.

“I am Groot,” Groot muttered, and strode after him, long tree-legs catching up in a few strides. “I am Groot?” He said to Loki, who checked himself and looked at him, his face tightening.

“Was, yes,” he said. “Why?”

“I am Groot,” Groot said definitively, and Loki shook his head.

“Call back your child,” he said, with a sharp gesture at Groot.

“Child?” Sam said, eyebrows shooting up.

“He’s an adolescent Flora Colossus,” Loki said, as though it were obvious. “And he is not following me. I don’t care who you were friends with.”

Thor, Wanda thought. Groot didn’t know any of them, but he’d known Thor, at least a little, and Loki was Thor’s brother, and Groot was, apparently, a teenager, among strangers who couldn’t understand him, who had just died.

Wanda’s chest ached. “If he wants to,” she said, “I don’t see why he shouldn’t.”

“I’m not interested in playing nursemaid–”

“I am Groot,” Groot said, and Loki gave him a hard look.

“No, you are not,” he said. “I’ve met grown Flora Colossi and you aren’t it. You’re barely more than a sapling. Maybe - what, four years old?”

“You know what,” Bucky said, “I’m with Wanda, actually. And the, uh...Groot. This place is weird. I think we should stick together, and it seems like he knows more about this place than any of the rest of us do.” His eyes settled on Loki. “And it’s not like we have a whole lot to lose, right now.”

Sam gave Bucky a long, skeptical look and then glanced at T’Challa, who shrugged.

“You assume I am interested in putting up with the lot of you,” Loki said flatly. He looked tense, Wanda thought. Like he was expecting some kind of trap. Wanda tried to summon a smile.

“You said you came over because you were curious,” she said. “And if you’re right, and there is some reason we’re all here...isn’t that something else to be curious about?”

“I am Groot,” said Groot, and Loki glanced at him, jaw twitching.

“I’m dead, you twig,” he said. “If not now, then probably soon. And if I did need protecting, you wouldn’t be much help.”

Bucky snorted, poorly muffled. Wanda bit her lip so she didn’t smile. Groot’s expression was hard for her to read, but it looked to her eyes like a glare.

Loki exhaled loudly and looked away. “Fine,” he said. “If you are inclined...I suppose there’s no harm in traveling adjacently.”

“Traveling where?” Sam asked. “You make it sound like you have an actual destination.”

“I have a...feeling,” Loki said, though something about the brief pause before he spoke made Wanda think there was something he wasn’t saying. The question was if it was important or not. “No more than that.”

“Well,” T’Challa said after a few moments of hesitation, “that is more than I have, at the moment. And so far as I know we weren’t going anywhere in particular, so…”

“I guess that settles it,” Wanda said. Loki eyed her like he suspected her of having some ulterior motive. She decided to pretend not to notice. “So which way are we going?”

[naruwitch]

Code Geass: Paladins of Voltron: Chapter 33: Island of the Gods

The sound of seagulls cawing and cold water lapping against her legs was what roused Nonette into consciousness. Blinking as the sun hit her eyes, she saw about a dozen of the birds circling above her.

With a gasp, she sat up. Looking around, she saw that she was alone, but there was no sign of Britannian troops or Knightmares anywhere. It was clear she was still on one of the islands if the sandy beach and glistening ocean was any clue, but it didn't seem to be Shikine Island. Otherwise, she was sure that she would have been picked up by now.

"How did I get here?" she muttered. All she remembered was fighting Zero in the Black Lion and then…

"It's no use," she growled, "I can't remember anything!"

Nonette knew that without any Knightmares, it was unlikely that she could call for help or request a rescue party. The best she could do would be to get to higher ground. She was sure that her unit was looking for her, and if what she remembered was correct and her other colleagues were here...

Prince Schneizel had some explaining to do.

Until then, though, she would have to simply survive, and the first thing to do in that case was to find some freshwater.

Hiking up along the mountain trail, the faint sound of rushing water caught her ear. Likely a waterfall. At least she knew there was a good water source here.

Turning around a bend, Nonette nearly leaped out of her skin as she came face to face with a large green lion head.

Under normal circumstances, she would have at least drawn her gun to defend herself, but the only weapon she had was her sword. She instinctively gripped the handle but not drawing it just yet, merely staring the lion down.

After about a minute of tense silence, Nonette slowly moved, realizing the lion wasn't moving. That likely meant whoever was piloting the lion wasn't inside.

That meant whoever was piloting it was somewhere in the area too.

Now on her guard, Nonette cautiously snuck towards the sound of the waterfall. She had no way of knowing if the pilot was armed or not. However, even if she didn't have a gun, all of the Knights of the Round were proficient with swords, or knives in Bradley's case. She would just have to make sure that she got in close to fight properly.

Sneaking as silently as she could through the foliage, she finally found the source of the sound, and as she expected, it was a waterfall.

What she wasn't expecting, though, was to see someone already occupying the pool beneath it, and she couldn't help but gasp.

It was a young man with platinum blonde hair. His bareback was towards her, so she didn't see his face, but what she could see was… horrifying.

Whip-lashes, bullet wounds, other crisscrossing scars (likely from knives)  covered the teen's back. There were also fainter, more straight lines. Surgical cuts. She could barely make out any clear, smooth skin. But most horrifying of all was right in the middle of his spine.

A brand. The symbol wasn't anything she recognized. If she had to pick a word to describe it, though, it looked like some sort of mutated, three-pointed claw.

This man had been tortured. Brutally. As well as experimented on and labeled as property. Of all of the cruel things she'd heard the Empire doing to the Numbers, she was at least glad that branding had been outlawed. Wounds and injuries could heal, but brands, they weren't easy to get rid of. Most were impossible to remove, and from where that one was located, it was unlikely it could be done safely for him.

She must have made more noise than she thought, as a moment later, the teen turned from where he had been bathing. His eyes widened when he saw her.

Her eyes widened in shock too when she saw his face.

"Prince Zephyr?!"

The Knight of the Round was in too much shock that she overlooked the blond reach for something behind him and fired it at her. Next thing she knew, she felt a cord wrap tightly around her, causing her to lose balance and fall to the ground. Moments later, she cried out in pain as electricity ran through her body.

Then she blacked out.

On another area of the island, with a bit more of a rocky shore, Zero stood by, calmly observing the new location that he and Zen had somehow ended up. When he had come to, he had been unable to rouse his Lion. He knew she'd wake up on her own eventually, but what concerned him was that he was unable to contact the castle or the other Paladins. Something on this island was jamming the signal. The best thing to do for now would be to wait until Zen woke up to leave and regroup with the rest of the team manually.

"As I thought," he muttered, "This is another island… though the vegetation and climate are the same as Shikine Island. We can't be that far from it. I can't contact the castle right now. And with my face all over the news, I can't pass myself off as an ordinary person asking for help either. This is annoying."

His train of thought was cut off when he heard a noise to his right. Looking over, the person he spotted made him gasp.

'Euphie!'

The princess herself, soaking wet, also gasped as she came face to face with the mysterious masked revolutionary.

Nonette groaned as she regained consciousness for the second time that day. As she tried to move her hands, she realized that they were bound in what felt like hand-cuffs.

"Have a nice nap?"

Nonette gasped and looked up in surprise, the sun blinding her vision partially as her captor stood in front of her, now fully dressed in a black bodysuit and white and green armor. She noticed that they were by the Green Lion again, and the teen was perched on top of its nose.

Getting a better look at the teen now, there was no mistaking it.

"Prince Zephyr, is that really you?" she gasped hopefully.

The teen frowned and narrowed his eyes and pushed off the Lion's muzzle, landing on the ground.

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about, lady," he said severely, "My name's Rai."

"What? No, that's not…" she protested before pausing, "Don't you recognize me?!"

"Yeah, your name's Nonette Enneagram, Knight of Nine. A member of that bastard Emperor's personal watchdogs. It's hard not to figure it out considering how famous you are," he said, eyes still narrowed.

"That's not what I…" Nonette cut herself off and seemed to think for a moment, before looking at Rai again, "I see. If you don't remember… amnesia, maybe?"

Rai stared at the woman critically. It was evident that she knew him, but he had no recollection of her. Not from before or during his Galra captivity. She did call him Zephyr, though, which is what the other alien prisoners called him as well. That couldn't be a coincidence.

"Zephyr… what happened to you…?" Nonette whispered. Rai was surprised to see tears falling from her eyes. "Those scars… who did that to you?"

Rai gasped, his hand instinctively reaching around to the small of his back where the cursed brand rested. So she'd seen all of that? He hadn't even shown it to the other Paladins. The only person on the castle that had seen it was Coran, which he only saw due to performing a mandatory physical on each of them shortly after they arrived.

The Altean had been horrified, but not surprised that Rai had gone through such treatment. At the time, Rai had asked if Coran recognized the writing branded underneath the symbol. When the Altean confirmed he did, he asked to know what it said. Coran had hesitated at first, but Rai insisted.

According to the Altean, the script roughly translated to: 'Property of the Galra Empire.'

The Green Paladin begged the older Altean not to tell the others, and Coran agreed, knowing that these things were personal and sensitive to prisoners of war.

Now knowing that someone other than Coran knew about the brand made Rai unusually uncomfortable. Like he was exposed. Naked even.

As the Green Paladin's mind raced, all Nonette could do was bow her head as tears of joy and sorrow flowed down her cheeks. She'd found her prince, but what was the cost of it?

Zero's hand gripped the knife he had attached to his side as Euphemia continued to stare at him. He seemed to be her sole focus.

His mask hid the conflicted look upon his face. What on Earth was he supposed to say to her? Besides the hotel-jacking, this was the first time he was seeing his sister face to face. He remembered before their exile how he, Nunnally, and Euphie used to be. She was the first girl he had ever truly loved, besides his mother and sister. But now what did he do? He could use his Geass on her to make her forget she'd seen him, but that thought didn't seem too appealing right now.

"Lelouch," she addressed, taking him by surprise, "Lelouch, it's you, isn't it? I haven't told anyone about you, I swear! Please… let me see your face."

There was about a minute of silence before the Black Paladin moved. It wasn't to attack, though. Slowly and calmly, he let go of the knife and reached up to remove his helmet and mask, allowing the princess to see her half-brother's face.

Tears gathered in Euphemia's eyes as she cried tears of joy. Not wasting any more time, the princess ran forward and embraced her sibling.

Lelouch stood frozen for a moment, too stunned to move. Soon, his own emotions overpowered him, and two sank to the sandy ground, hugging each other close.

"I've missed you so much!" Euphemia gasped between tears.

"I've missed you too, Euphie," Lelouch whispered back.

Ocean and sand. That was all Kallen could see with her Geass as her vision swept around the area.

The second the Hadron cannon's attack had ceased, the rest of Team Voltron was shocked to see that not only Lelouch but Rai and both of their Lions had vanished! So had Nonette Enneagram and Princess Euphemia. And Kallen was getting increasingly irritated the longer her Geass couldn't locate them.

From what she  could  gather, the Britannian forces looked just as agitated. Several soldiers were scanning the area, likely looking for the princess and the knight.

She and the rest of the team still couldn't believe that someone would throw away and endanger their own men like that. True, in war it was inevitable that people would die, but it was a completely different story when soldiers were willing sacrificed like that! And the fact that the attack wasn't stopped by Princess Euphemia's interference!

"I can't find them!" she reported into the comm, "Not even my Geass is picking anything up!"

"Keep looking!"  Suzaku practically barked,  "They've got to be somewhere!"

"Hey, first of all, don't use that tone with me, Suzaku!" Kallen snapped back, "Second, I doubt looking in the exact same place for the fourth time, and yes, I counted, will bring different results! It's a little something called insanity, you know!"

"Plus, it's kind of hard to do a bigger search with all of the troops down there,"  Milly pointed out,  "They were clearly after the Lions, so they could try and ambush us again if we aren't careful!"

"Allura, has the castle picked up the Lions' location yet?" Shirley asked.

"No, nothing!"  Allura replied,  "Wherever the Lions landed, the castle isn't picking up their signal!"

"Maybe they both got knocked out?" Rivalz suggested.

"No, the castle would still be able to find the Lions if that were the case,"  Coran answered this time,  "Wherever they are, they're in an area that is completely blocking out their signal, in or out!"

"If it helps at all, I do sense that Lelouch and Rai are both alive. It's most likely that Zerith and Zen are with them wherever they went,"  C.C. spoke up, "Come back to the castle for now. It won't help anyone if you exhaust yourselves searching like this. The Knights of Round could still be in the area."

Kallen growled before spitting out, "Fine!"

With that declaration, the five remaining Lions turned tail and flew straight back to the castle.

Meanwhile, back on Shikine Island, the  Le Fay continued to float over the beach, overseeing the cleanup and search party down below. The Gawain had been recovered, but unfortunately, both the Black and Green Lions appeared to have vanished, much to everyone's bewilderment.

Inside the ship's main hanger, Cecile was busy typing on a laptop by the recovered Gawain. Next to it was also the Tristian, Mordred, and Galahad. She was going over the data the Gawain managed to obtain during the fight, but she still felt shaken over what had happened.

"So Nonette really just vanished?" the voice of Gino Weinberg, the Knight of Three, echoed through the hangar, and Cecile looked up in surprise.

"Without a trace," Anya Alstreim stated plainly, staring at her personal electronic diary.

"And the two lions that were in the area are gone too. The Prince won't be pleased with this," the Knight of One, Bismarck Waldstein addressed gravely, "Are you positive you've looked through all the data?"

"No, Lord Bismark," Cecile addressed, "it's all just static in the Gawain's systems. No trace of what happened to Lady Enneagram or Princess Euphemia either."

"Hey, Mark, no offense," Gino suddenly said, eyeing the Knight of One suspiciously, "You didn't tell us that sacrificing Nonette like that was part of the plan!"

"Are you questioning the intentions of the Second Prince and Viceroy?" Bismarck challenged with a deadly gaze.

"But you also didn't intervene when you saw Princess Euphemia was there either!" Cecile couldn't help but point out in a rare burst of anger.

"If it wasn't clear for you to see, Miss Croomy, the three of us were also occupied with the other lions!" Bismark snapped. Cecile cringed back in fear of the Knight of One's wrath.

Before she could apologize, another voice entered the conversation.

"In all situations, priorities must not be forgotten either," Prince Schneizel acknowledged, walking into the room.

Cecile gasped, "Prince Schneizel! Y-You're here!"

"You impudent little…! How dare you look down upon the Second Prince of the Empire!" General Bartley exclaimed as he appeared as well.

"General Bartley…?!" Cecile lost her footing and slid down the stairs to land on her rear on the ground.

"Nice one," he commented.

"You're not hurt, are you?" Schneizel asked gently as he helped Cecile to her feet.

"Uh, thank you," she gasped as the prince helped her to her feet.

"Gah…! She's unworthy!" Bartley growled.

"You're quite the devoted subject, aren't you, General?" Lloyd observed.

"Primarily because the prince is the one who commuted my sentence and saved me from being chained up deep beneath Temple Tower!" General Bartley barked.

"I wish you'd stop thinking of me so formally," Schneizel told the General matter-of-factly, "You've been a great help to me in this current matter, as you were to my brother, Clovis. It is I who am grateful to you."

"M-my Lord!" Bartley gasped.

"Please, Bartley. Now my Lady Cecile, if you'll excuse me. Bismarck, Alstreim, Weinberg, please follow me. We'll discuss the events that transpired. In the meantime, Lord Asplund, you and Lady Cecile will use the Le Fay to locate Euphemia," the prince ordered before turning to leave the hanger.

"As you wish, Your Highness," Bismarck bowed curtly before he and his colleagues turned to follow the prince out.

Right as Lloyd turned to follow as well, Cecile spoke up, "Please wait! Were those orders yesterday issued by the prince?!"

"Silence! You don't want to be in contempt of royalty, do you?!" Bartley exclaimed.

"To be honest, I've been wondering about that too," Gino admitted awkwardly.

Despite the accusations, Schneizel responded anyway, "Those orders were mine, yes. I also fired the Hadron. Even in a situation like that, priorities mustn't be forgotten. The Empire is facing what is likely its most dangerous adversary. I saw an opportunity to eliminate the leadership, and I took it. I certainly didn't expect Euphie to rush out like that, but if something anomalous happened, we would have still been able to rescue both her and Lady Enneagram. That's what I gambled on."

"Okay… if you say so," Gino shrugged, but he still looked reasonably uncertain

"Yes, My Lord," Cecile nodded as well, "I understand now, and I sorely regret my rudeness. I accept any punishment you decree."

"Nonsense," Schneizel dismissed, "It's my fault for not protecting my subordinates. Can you ever forgive me?"

These were the last words Schneizel said as he left the hanger, but the Second Prince's mind was extremely troubled. While it was true that he ordered to have the experimental weapon inserted into the Gawain in an attempt to capture the Black Lion, somehow the machine had vanished, along with Zero, the Green Lion and its pilot, and Lady Enneagram. The Gawain didn't disappear, so it was a mystery as to why the two Lions vanished.

Something else was at play, and he hoped that he could somehow still talk the matter out with his brother before the situation became too dire to be reversed.

"How did you figure it out? Did Suzaku tell you?" Lelouch asked as he leaned back against a large stone. Euphemia was sitting on the other side, Lelouch's cape draped over her bare body as she had stripped out of her dress so that it could dry off.

"No. Well," Euphie stopped to think about her words, "he never specified you were Zero. He  did  say you were with Voltron, though. But I figured it out during the hotel-jacking."

She didn't see, but her brother nodded, "At the time, I said too much without thinking."

"Of course, I was never one hundred percent certain until now," Euphemia added.

"I see… I'm naive, as well. Even so, why didn't you discuss your suspicions with Cornelia or Schneizel?" he asked.

"I didn't because my sister never listened to me. And it never felt right to talk about it with Schneizel. Besides that… I think things are depressing enough as they are… Oh, Nunnally — how is she? Is she really all right? Suzaku said so."

"Yes," Lelouch answered, "She's better than she's been in a while, actually."

"I see… Can I assume that she knows everything? About Zero… and Voltron?"

"Yes," Lelouch nodded, "She knows everything, and why I'm doing what I'm doing."

"Lelouch I… I'm so sorry…" Euphemia stuttered, her voice cracking slightly.

"For what?" he asked, glancing back in confusion.

"For… for everything!" she gasped, holding back tears, "The hatred you must feel for us. The hatred towards the Emperor… towards us."

"No…" Lelouch answered, cutting Euphemia off, "Euphie, even after we were exiled, I never hated you. Of course, when I saw what Clovis and Cornelia became, I was scared at first that you changed too. But when I spoke with you at the hotel, I was relieved to see that I was wrong. You're still the same girl that would play with Nunnally and me at Aries Villa. You're still our sister."

"Lelouch…" Euphie murmured.

"I know you and Cornelia had nothing to do with my mother's murder. From what she told me, she investigated it extensively," he added as an afterthought.

Euphemia nodded, though, on the inside, she was relieved to hear that Lelouch and Cornelia talked. That meant her sister was still alive after all.

"Cornelia did think a lot of Lady Marianne and looked up to her," Euphemia said, "It frustrated her that she couldn't find who did it."

"Yes, I know…" Lelouch nodded again.

Suddenly, Euphemia's stomach gave a slight groan, and the princess looked down with a blush, "I believe feeling relieved has made me hungry."

Lelouch couldn't help but chuckle a little as he stood up, "Well, we're in luck. Somehow Zen was transferred here along with me. We should be able to find some provisions with her."

"Zen?" Euphie asked, confused as Lelouch went to gather her clothes.

"You'll see," was all he said with a light smile.

"Gotcha!" Rai shouted as he snatched another fish from the stream. Of course, it wasn't necessary to go hunting for food since Zerith had several packs of food goo stored inside her, but Rai wasn't going to let this opportunity slide. It had been ages since he'd had some decent Earth food.

"You know I can help you with that!" Nonette said. She was sitting by the shore, her hands still bound behind her, but she hadn't made any moves to get free. Rai's outer Paladin armor lay in a neat row beside her.

"Not a chance!" Rai couldn't help but snap a little back. He didn't care if the Knight of Nine claimed to know him; he wasn't going to take any chances while he was temporarily unarmed.

"Sheesh, were you always this stubborn before?" Nonette grumbled a little, but there was no malice in her tone. Instead, there was fondness and admiration as well.

"Oh my!" a now fully clothed Euphemia gasped as the two approached the still powered-down Black Lion in the forest.

"This is Zenobia," Lelouch introduced, "But I call her Zen for short."

"Well, hello, Zen," Euphemia greeted with a small smile.

Lelouch couldn't help but chuckle a little. He had yet to explain to Euphie how the Lions were sort of alive in a way, but he figured it would be easier to explain when Zen regained consciousness.

"I'll get inside and gather some provisions…" Lelouch trailed off, frowning a little. Sure the food goo would keep them alive for a while, but it wasn't exactly the best-tasting thing in the universe. But he wasn't in the mood to try and set any complicated traps right now. His physique may have improved over the last few months, but it was best to conserve as much energy as possible too, just in case he had to fight.

So he turned back to his sister, "Euphie, why don't you look around and see if you can find some berries or something? They would help improve flavor at the very least."

Euphemia blinked in surprise, "Does it really taste that bad?"

"No…" Lelouch shook his head, "It's just an acquired taste, let's just say that."

After a few seconds, Euphie shrugged, "All right, if you say so. I'll be right back."

"Be careful!" Lelouch shouted after her as she hurried off. As he lost sight of her, he sighed, looked at the head of his downed Lion, and then up at the sky.

"I just hope we're found soon…"

The atmosphere on the Castle of Lions was tense. For most of the night prior, the Alteans and Black Knights alike had been working non-stop to try and locate the Lions from above while the Paladins continued to scan on Earth's surface. Eventually, Coran made an executive order for the Black Knights and the princess to turn in for the evening, and they all did so reluctantly. They wouldn't be able to help Zero and Rai at all if everyone on the ship was acting like a gang of bumbling, sleep-deprived karjekals (whatever those were) by the time they  were  located Coran had said.

Now that the five remaining Paladins had come back, Coran had ordered them immediately to bed themselves, even if it was technically still mid-day down below. They protested, of course, which forced the older Altean to amend his statement and ordered at least a nap, which he promised to wake them from within a few varga.

Ohgi sighed as he picked at the food goo on his plate. He reminded himself that they wouldn't have to live off of this alone for much longer, as several of the seeds now in the new greenhouse had at last started to sprout.

He didn't want to offend the Alteans for their ways with food, but would it kill them to add at least a little seasoning to this from time to time?

He and almost everyone else in the dining hall looked up as Coran himself walked in.

"Still no sign of them?" Ohgi asked anxiously.

"Unfortunately no," Coran informed them, shaking his head, "The princess is continuously scanning the island and the area around it, but she still has yet to locate either the Green or Black Lions, which is deeply concerning."

"And you still don't know what happened to them?" Tohdoh asked who was seated next to Ohgi.

"No, it's like they vanished into thin space," Coran said solemnly.

"Um, you mean 'thin air' right?" Minami corrected.

"Ah-yes that!" the Altean corrected sheepishly.

"And it's isn't the result of a special ability on the Lions' part?" Tohdoh pressed further.

"Well… I wouldn't say one of the Lions doesn't have an ability like that, but it's highly unlikely that they used it given the situation."

"Do you think they could have wound up on one of the islands nearby?" Inoue suggested.

"We haven't picked up any signals from the surrounding islands yet. But once the Paladins are rested enough, I'm sure they'll start searching the other islands next."

"I beg your pardon Coran, but would that be wise?" Tohdoh asked. This statement drew the attention everyone in earshot, "Britannia will likely start to do the same, and the Green Lion is the only one equipped with stealth capabilities. Should the remaining Lions be too reckless and get spotted by enemy forces again, considering that several Knights of the Round are now present..."

"Colonel?" a small voice gasped from the entrance. Looking towards the door, Nunnally sat in her hoverchair, her eyes wide, "You're not suggesting that we stop looking for Lelouch, are you?"

Tohdoh blinked, and his gaze softened, "Of course not, Nunnally. I'm simply stating that we must exercise caution doing so. We can't afford to lose any more men, especially not another Paladin."

"Quite right," Coran nodded, "Rest assured, Nunnally, until we get solid confirmation that Rai and Lelouch have either been capture or, dare I say this, killed, we will not cease our search."

"Hell yeah!" Tamaki exclaimed, "There's no way those two kicked the bucket  that  easily!"

Biting her lip, Nunnally nodded, her heart hammering in her chest. She had just got her brother back not too long ago. If she were to lose him again so soon…

The princess's thoughts were cut off by a small hand on her shoulder. Looking up at the source, C.C. came strolling in.

"Well, for once you're correct about one thing, Tamaki," C.C. said, "those two are very much still alive. I can sense that they are."

"Thanks to that Geass thing they have, right?" Asahina asked.

"Yes," C.C. nodded, "So if the two are still alive, we can assume that the two Lions are fine as well. If Britannia had managed to capture either one of them, they likely would have made a statement by now."

"Even so, the fact that neither are responding on the comms is concerning nonetheless," Allura's regal voice said, calling everyone's attention to her as she walked in herself. Despite getting some rest herself, the princess looked a bit worse for wear with slight bags under her eyes. Her skin looked a little paler as well. "Coran, if memory serves correct, some of the shuttle pods are still equipped with the prototype stealth systems. If Lelouch nor Rai don't respond with the next twenty-four Earth hours, I suggest we use those to take to Earth and look for them ourselves."

"Very well, Princess. Does anyone object to this course of action?" the advisor asked the group as a whole.

No one spoke up, so Coran nodded, "Now Princess, please do sit down, you look like you're about to pass out!"

"I'm fine, Coran. Just… stressed," Allura protested.

"Well… aren't we all?" Coran sighed, several murmurs of agreement rippling through the group.

While this was going on, Nunnally couldn't help but bite her lip nervously. She was positive her brother was all right; she was sure she would feel it if he wasn't, but that didn't stop her mind from wandering to the worst-case scenarios.

  'Lelouch… where did you go?'

"Lelouch… what exactly is this?" Euphemia asked as she eyed the green goo curiously. It looked like mashed potatoes drenched in green food coloring, but she had a feeling that it wasn't anything like that. She managed to find a decent amount of edible fruit on the island, much to Lelouch's relief. Hopefully, this can help with the taste.

"This is… uh…" Lelouch hesitated. Come to think of it, Allura and Coran never mentioned what the goo was officially called, did they? Everyone on the ship simply called it 'food goo.' The name probably just stuck. "We eat this a lot when we're on the Castleship. It was our only food source for a while. Now that we're back on Earth, we've managed to sneak some trips to markets and grocery stores, and Coran has been working with Milly and Rivalz to set up a greenhouse too."

"I see," Euphie nodded, "That's quite resourceful."

"Thanks. In a pinch, though, this stuff will at least keep us alive. It's not five-star quality by a long shot, but it'll sustain us until help arrives. Fruit only lasts so long, and hunting can be unpredictable without the right tools, which we, unfortunately, don't have."

Euphie nodded as Lelouch handed her a plate with a small amount of the goo on it, along with a spork. The fruit was situated between the two in easy reaching distance, and after pouring his own portion of the goo, the Black Paladin dug in. He was more than used to the texture and taste of the strange space food that he could eat it without too much incident, but he was fairly curious about how Euphemia would respond to it.

According to Kallen, Cornelia had refused to even touch the goo the first few times it was brought down to her in her cell. She only starting begrudgingly choking it down when she couldn't take the hunger anymore. Euphemia wasn't necessarily a picky eater, so he really didn't know what to expect from his sister.

Euphie tentatively scooped up a small amount onto the spork, eying it cautiously. She slowly brought it to her mouth and almost immediately gagged. She brought a hand to her mouth to keep from spitting it out and forced herself to swallow.

"It's... delicious," she tried to say politely.

Lelouch chuckled in sympathy, seeing right through her, "It IS still pretty bad, though. I think Alteans focus more on the nutrition value rather than taste most of the time."

"I see."

"This is what they make you eat?!" Nonette asked in shock and disgust after speed shoveling the food goo into her mouth. At least the faster she ate it, the less she tasted it. The fish had been tasty, though.

Just like Lelouch, Rai raided Zerith's emergency supplies, which included several bags of pre-packed food goo. He managed to catch a fair amount of fish, but he also wanted to preserve the supply as much as possible.

Biting into the first fish he could grab from the fire when he finished, he forgot how delicious Earth food was. That greenhouse and possible… oh, maybe they could give aquaculture a try too.

The Green Paladin shrugged, unbothered as he took another bite, "Everyone eats it, even the Alteans. Most of the time, this is all there is."

...Okay, that last part was a bit of a lie, but C.C. guarded her pizza stash like a dragon guarded treasure. After Tamaki tried to sneak one out of her hiding spot his first week on the ship, the immortal nearly sent him to the cryopods in a fit of rage.

Rai chuckled at the memory. He would never have thought the cocky, loud-mouthed rebel would have such a squeally scream.

After that, no one dared touch, much less question where the stash was hidden.

"It's honestly not that bad once you get used to it," Rai continued, "There's way weirder food out there in space. One of the other Paladins had a space bug stew one time."

Nonette rose an eyebrow but shook her head, deciding not to think about it.

Rai then jumped when the Knight of the Round let out a large belch.

"...Did you just burp?" he gasped.

"What? It's a normal bodily function. A Knight of the Round can't do that?" Nonette jabbed with a smirked.

"Well, besides the family itself, you guys are practically royalty, making yourselves look good," Rai commented before frowning, "All the while hiding just how rotten you are underneath."

Nonette's smile faded. "You really hate Britannia? Can't say I blame you given what happened…"

"It's kinda hard not to hate Britannia considering it's mostly filled with narcissistic warmongers who'll do anything for victory!" Rai began. 'You're just like the Galra' went unsaid at the last moment.

Nonette sighed, "I'll admit, some of the Empire's actions have been anything but honorable."

Rai scoffed, "If you're so hung up about honor, then why do you still do it?"

"It's not my choice, not my call," Nonette quickly explained, "The Emperor's orders…"

"Of course!" Rai threw his arms out in exasperation. "It's always 'the Emperor this' or 'the Emperor that'! I swear if I ever see that bastard, I'm gonna kill him myself if Zero doesn't get the chance to!"

Nonette looked toward Rai in minor surprise, "You… you really don't remember, do you?"

This snapped Rai out of his rant, "Earlier, you called me a different name. What was it?" the Green Paladin asked.

"Yes, Zephyr. That's your name," Nonette answered.

Rai flinched back. So he wasn't mistaken. The same name that associated him as Champion…

"My name is Rai," he denied.

"No!" Nonette exclaimed, sounding almost desperate, "Your name, your  real  name, is Zephyr zar Britannia."

At this declaration, Rai stumbled back in shock. No… this couldn't be true! But if that  was  his name…

"Then, that means…"

Nonette nodded, "Your father… is Charles zi Britannia.

"The stars haven't changed, have they?" Euphemia said softly as she layed down on Lelouch's cape on the sand, gazing up into the sky with her brother, "They were the same back then. We all used to gaze up at the stars together. Remember that? Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could live like that again? I'd be so happy then!"

The princess turned over to look at her brother better, "What are the stars like up there? Are they still like this from above?"

It took a few moments for Lelouch to answer, but he smiled slightly when he did, "Yes. If anything, I think they're even  more beautiful. You feel closer to them."

Euphemia smiled in wonder, "What else have you seen? Will you tell me?"

"I can try," Lelouch answered with an amused smile, "But you know I wasn't much of a storyteller. I'm still not."

Euphemia giggled as she listened silently to the story of Voltron.

Rai felt his hands shaking as he fully processed the words that came out of Nonette's mouth. ""No… that-that's not true…" Rai stuttered, "I can't… you're lying… you're lying!"

"I'm not!" Nonette exclaimed before her face became somber, "I'm sorry, but that's the truth."

Rai couldn't take it as he fell to his knees. The world seemed to be closing in around him as he clutched his head, a loud ringing in his ears.

"Zeph!" he barely heard Nonette shout along with a shuffling. Was she trying to get out of her bounds? And do what?

All further panic was lost as a loud roar echoed through the trees. The ground shook beneath Rai's form as a large shadow draped over him.

"What the hell?!" he heard Nonette scream as the Green Lion stood protectively over her Paladin, his distress calling her into action.

Another weight fell on top of the Green Paladin, but unlike before, where it felt suffocating, this one felt warm. The feeling of safe, safe, safe sang like musical notes in his mind, harmonizing with a gentle but powerful purr.

It took several minutes before Rai finally calmed down. Zerith didn't move that entire time, pressed her quintessence gently but firmly against his, almost like when Arthur rubbed his head against their knee.

"Thanks, Zerith," he whispered, getting to his feet.

The Green Lion chuffed before slowing sitting down on her haunches like she did in her hangar in the castle. The second he was out of her shadow, her particle barrier shot up, shielding the Lion from any other outside threats.

Nonette stared up in shock. She was positive that no one else was inside that Knightmare. So how did it…?

"Surprised?" Rai asked, cutting her thoughts off, "Though it's probably obvious by now, the Lions aren't any ordinary machines."

The loud roar made Euphie and Lelouch jump and looked towards where it seemed to come from. Lelouch recognized it as one of the Lions and frantically looked up at the sky. Had they been found? It certainly hadn't been Zen roaring; he would have felt her waking up.

"What was that?" he heard Euphemia ask.

"...It'll be dangerous to investigate in the dark. We'll check it out in the morning. If I'm correct on what it was, we may have found our way off the island," Lelouch answered before glancing at Zen. Whatever had been in that Gawain Knightmare must have really injured her for her to still be out of it. He only hoped she woke up soon, or the castle had some way of getting her back on board as well.

Rai took a few more minutes to calm down. Now that Zerith was back online, her presence certainly helped slow his heart rate.

Nonette still stared at the Lion, looking ready to bolt if she had to.

Rai sighed, "Calm down, she won't attack you unless she thinks I'm in trouble… but you already saw that, so…"

Nonette visibly swallowed, honestly not sure what the best course of action would be. She wouldn't do anything to hurt her prince, but it would be suicide to fight the Lion, especially not without a Knightmare.

"Hold on…" Rai muttered, before glaring at the knight again, "Something doesn't add up. If it's true that I'm supposedly a Britannian prince, how come there aren't any records of a 'Zephyr zar Britannia' in the royal archives?"

Along with Lelouch's own knowledge, Rai had been using as much spare time as he could to research the Royal Family, trying to see how many of them could become potential allies to the Coalition. So far, Euphemia was the best option, but other possibilities included Odysseus eu Britannia (official crown prince of the Empire) and Marrybell mel Britannia (current Viceroy of Area 24, formerly Spain). Of course, now that they had Cornelia in their custody, there was always the chance for her to have a change of heart and join their side. According to Nunnally, she was willing to fight with them, but several Black Knights were still doubtful.

But like he said, throughout his sweep of the family, not once was there any mention of anyone named 'zar Britannia.'

"That's because there officially isn't one," Nonette revealed, "The Emperor wanted to keep your existence a secret, along with your sister-Oh right, Sophie! If you're alive, then is she?"

Rai grimaced, but still answered, "I don't know. The last time I saw her, she was supposed to be sent off to a work camp. I haven't seen her since."

"Work camp? Where?!" Nonette growled, looking infuriated.

Rai scoffed, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you. And I honestly don't know myself. Like I said, that's the last time I heard about her. Her current status is unknown to me too."

Nonette deflated at that, but Rai could still see the fiery anger in her eyes. It was clear that Nonette  did seem to know him and his family. She knew Sophronia's name, and he never mentioned it in front of her. Was it possible that she really was telling the truth? He wished his Geass functioned the same way Lelouch's did; that way, he could know for sure.

"...I can't believe I'm doing this," he muttered to himself as he sat back down. Nonette looked up at him as he leveled her with a stare, "Look, I honestly have no clue if you're telling the truth or not, but… I need some answers, and an untrustworthy source is better than no source at all."

"I would never lie to you, Zephyr," Nonette insisted.

Rai didn't completely believe her, but he took a deep breath. He decided to start with something else he already knew, "What's my mom's name?"

Nonette answered immediately, "Erina Kurugui."

The world seemed to stop for the millionth time that day as he processed this information.

"K-Kururugi?" he stuttered.

"Yes," Nonette nodded, "Your mother was a member of the Kururugi family. The younger sister of the late Genbu Kururugi, in fact."

"What?!" he gasped, "Wait… so that means that Suzaku and I… are cousins?"

Nonette paused for a moment, then chuckled a little, "Huh, that thought never crossed my mind, but yeah, I guess you are."

Rai to take a breath as he processed this new information. So, in the span of less than an hour, he learned that not only was he Lelouch and Nunnally's half-sibling through that disgusting man, Charles zi Britannia, but now he and Suzaku were  cousins.

He wondered if Suzaku knew about this or not.

He quickly wiped that suspicion from his mind. Sure, maybe Suzaku knew about his aunt, but he never mentioned having a cousin named Zephyr. And he was sure Suzaku would have said something if he  had.  Unless… he had been sworn to secrecy. He had proven that he  was  good at keeping secrets, at least.

Rai groaned. He felt like his head was about to explode, but he had to keep going.

"So, let me make sure I've got this right so far. The Emperor of the Britannia is not only my father but he, a man who actively encourages racism and war, married a Japanese woman?"

"No," Nonette shook her head, "They never got married. Erina and His Majesty had an affair that was kept secret from both families."

"Okay… why?" Rai had to ask. It made no sense. If it were for political purposes he'd understand, but this sounded more like a one-night-stand sort of thing. Were they drunk or high when this happened?

"I don't know," Nonette honestly shrugged, "As far as I know, I'm the only one who knew about this."

"Okay, so why did you get to know about us?" he asked suspiciously.

"I was assigned by the Emperor to be your knight to protect you," she answered simply.

So that explained a few things too. Why she was so protective of him and so desperate to rescue him from Zero and how furious she became when he told her about where Sophie may be.

"Okay, so where did we live? Before we disappeared anyway?"

"It was on an island known as Fiji," Nonette explained, "It's in the Pacific, east of Australia."

"Fiji?" Rai asked, "I don't remember that island being part of the Empire."

"It isn't," Nonette shook her head, "Officially it's considered an independent nation even now. The fact that it's not in Britannia's territory is likely the reason you and your family were hidden there."

"Okay… so happened to us then? How did we disappear?" Rai almost demanded.

At this, Nonette looked down sadly, "I can't answer that because not even I know. Before you vanished, I had been called away on another mission to quell some riots in Area Sixteen, the nation once called the Philippine Islands. When I got back… you were gone. It's like you were never there to begin with."

Rai nodded. He felt a small tickling in the back of his skull. Something was fighting in his memories to come to the surface, but it felt like a thick pane of glass was keeping it back.

"I'm guessing you searched for us?" he guessed.

"Yes," she nodded fervently, "I talked to practically every local I could get my hands on but none of them seemed to know who I was talking about. Then I pulled some strings in the higher ranks of the Empire to find out if you had been moved unexpectedly, I tried every trick in the book. I found nothing…"

Rai stared at the knight as tears gathered in her eyes, but remained silent. He could tell she wasn't finished.

"When nothing turned up from my own investigation, I confronted the Emperor himself and demanded to know what happened to you all. I got nothing out him, and as punishment, he demoted me."

"And yet now you're a Knight of the Round, one of his elite," said obviously.

To her credit, Nonette didn't take offense and just shrugged, "I practically started over after that. I rose in the ranks of the military, and eventually, the Emperor offered it to me. I saw it as an opportunity to use the position to expose the Emperor's darker side. I figured if the people saw it, they would remove him from power. Maybe even by force."

Rai stared wide-eyed. He hadn't expected  that. She wasn't doing this out of loyalty at all! At least not to the Emperor.

"It's revenge," he realized, "You did all this to avenge my mom, my sister, and I?"

Nonette looked up from where she had been staring at the ground and looked Rai straight in the eye, "Yes. I'd avoid war if necessary, but if there were no other option, I would. I...I was your knight, assigned to keep you safe. And I turned my back for what felt like a moment, and you were gone. I failed you."

Rai remained silent, unsure of what to say. Here was a Knight of the  freaking  Round blatantly telling him that she will betray the Emperor she had swore to protect just for his sake?! Maybe… maybe he  should tell her about the Galra. Voltron had questioned whether it was possible to recruit any of the Knights. If they did, that would be huge!

But something still stubbornly stopped him. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't bring himself to tell her the truth yet.

"I don't expect you to forgive me, much less believe me, and I understand if you don't, but that's the truth," she finished.

Rai bent down, his hands covering his face, fighting back a surge of bile rising in his throat.

"Are you all right?" Nonette asked with concern.

"I...I need a moment," he said quickly before practically sprinting towards Zerith. The barrier opened just enough to let him in, and the Lion bowed to let her Paladin enter her mouth.

He collapsed before he could make it to the pilot seat, breaths coming in heavy and quick. It was only Zerith's strong purr that prevented him from fainting. If she was flesh and blood, he had no doubt she would have been curled up on his chest and vibrating like a phone.

So many thoughts were racing through his head. He had finally learned his history, but at the same time, he wished he hadn't heard any of it. Despite learning all of this, more questions were still swirling in his head. The ones that Lelouch had brought up before the dual sprouted up again. How did he and his family end up with the Galra? Was the Emperor involved somehow? How was that possible, though? From what he could tell, once the Galra set their eyes on a planet, there were no negotiations. The planet either surrendered and became slaves, or the inhabitants fought to the very last man, and then the Galra took the planet anyway.

Like Coran had said, "You would know if the Galra had been there."

He was sure that the key was in his lost memories. If only he could  remember-!

Suddenly, Zerith growled urgently. It was enough to shake the Green Paladin out of what was likely the beginning of a panic attack. Looking up at the window, he saw through Zerith's eyes to see lights shining from another area of the island up.

"We couldn't find Lady Enneagram washed ashore on the other islands, so it's obvious we should look here," Schneizel reasoned as he directed the search party from the Le Fay's throne room.

We'll send a search party out in the morning," General Bartley replied next to him.

"Hmm… And this must be what you mentioned?" Schneizel questioned, looking at the structure down below.

"Yes! We uncovered it when the Shinjuku incident occurred," Bartley explained.

Ah… Yes, I can see why this would've attracted Clovis' interest," Schneizel realized with a nod.

As the morning sun peaked over the ocean's horizon, Rai silently lead a still bound Nonette up the mountain. The Knight of Nine still made no attempts to escape.

"Are you sure you really saw a light?" Nonette asked.

"Yeah, definitely," he answered.

Leaving Zerith behind in the jungle foliage for now, Rai figured if they were Britannian forces that he could just drop Nonette off and sneak back to look for Lelouch and join back up at the castle.

"It must be a search party," Lelouch reasoned as he and Euphie trekked up the mountain on the other side. Zen still hadn't woken up, much to Lelouch's disappointment. Maybe this the problem was something only Allura and Coran could fix.

"Once we learn who it is, we'll know how to deal with them."

"'Deal with them'?" Euphie questioned anxiously.

Lelouch grimaced at the wrong word choice, "I mean that we can decide what to do once we realize who it is. If it's part of Voltron, nothing bad should happen to you, Euphie. And if it's Britannia…"

"I may be able to help. I can approach them while you sneak back to your Lion," Euphie suggested.

Lelouch nodded. That sounded like the best possibility.

"A Thought Elevator, you say?" Lloyd asked as he, Prince Schneizel, General Bartley, and several other soldiers stood inside the cave. On the massive stone doors in front of them appeared to be very ancient hieroglyphics, but they weren't ones that they could identify.

"I'm afraid archeology isn't my strong suit, especially this paranormal stuff," the Earl confessed quite casually.

"Why, you… Show some respect!" Bartley barked in irritation.

"As I was saying, this is way outside of my field," Lloyd continued to complain, "I wish you could've asked Cécile about this instead."

"Please don't complain so much," Schneizel said sternly, "My father is fascinated with this as well. Isn't that right, Bartley?"

"Yes," General acknowledged when the Prince looked at him, "We've found artifacts similar to these in a number of places around the world. Except for this one that I discovered, all the other sites are directly under imperial control. This is mere speculation on my part, but I think the  real reason we're invading other countries is to obtain these objects!"

"And so, in order to analyze this ancient occult data, you're going to use the Gawain's Druid System, untuned prototype that it is?" Lloyd questioned before gesturing to the obtained and newly repaired Knightmare next to them.

"That's why we called you in," Schneizel answered.

"AH-HAH!" Lloyd exclaimed in understanding.

Unbeknownst to the men, one soldier eyed the monument critically, their yellow eyes narrowing in suspicion.

There was no doubt now. This was the source of that blockage. Now… how to remove it?

"I think it was around here," Lelouch muttered and he, and Euphemia approached a clearly at the top of the hill.

"Lelouch, if it is a search party, then will our time be over here?" his sister asked sadly.

Lelouch sighed, "Yes, it will. Only for now, though. I have a feeling we'll be seeing each other again very soon."

"I sure hope so," Euphemia answered with a smile. Lelouch smiled back, but the moment was ruined when they heard rustling in the woods on the other side of the clearing. Lelouch quickly put his helmet back on and braced himself for a confrontation when the people appeared.

'Rai!' he thought in surprise as the Green Paladin emerge from the foliage along with Nonete Enneagram, who seemed to have her hands bound.

"Nonette!" Euphemia exclaimed happily, jumping up.

Nonette and Rai both gasped, "Princess Euphemia!"

"Don't move!" Zero exclaimed, grabbing Euphemia's arm and drawing his knife, "This girl is my prisoner!"

"Le-Zero!" Rai exclaimed.

"Just play along," Lelouch whispered as his sister looked at him frightened. He then turned to address the pair in front of him, "Back away from my subordinate Lady Enneagram. Do that, and no one gets hurt here."

"Zero, you!" Nonette exclaimed angrily about to charge the terrorist. She had just found her prince; she wasn't about to lose him again. She was stopped in her tracks as she felt Rai grab her arm and hold his Bayard against her back.

"Nonette, wait! Please!" Euphie shouted, escaped Zero's grasp, and running towards the knight.

"Euphie, wait!" Lelouch shouted, but the moment he stepped into the clearing, a massive glowing red Geass sigil formed on the ground, much to everyone's shock.

'A Geass?!' both Lelouch and Rai thought. Suddenly, both Paladins felt their own Geasses burning in their eyes, them having activated all on their own.

Rai suddenly felt a throbbing pain in his head as he fell on his knees, clutching his head as he yelled in pain. The Geass sigil was no longer in just one eye, but both!

"Zephyr!" Nonette shouted, her bonds suddenly breaking, freeing her hands. Before she could kneel to Rai's level, though, the ground underneath the group shook violently, and the floor began to descend.

In an unknown location, a young boy smirked victoriously as his two targets fell right into the trap that he had set up for them.

The Thought Elevator began to glow a bright red, much to the shock of the Britannians as the entire cave shook viciously.

"Oh, not good…" Lloyd muttered as the readings on the Gawain skyrocketed to off-the-chart levels.

Simultaneously, on the beach Lelouch and Euphemia were that same morning, Zenobia's eyes flashed awake, and she leaped to her feet.

With a deafening roar of both anger and fear, the Black Lion shot into the air and beelined towards the Thought Elevator's location, the Green Lion right behind.

"Princess! The Green and Black Lions!" Coran exclaimed, "we've finally managed to obtain their signal. And they're closing in on one of the islands!"

"Aw, and just when I was about to try my new feature out!" Milly groaned with a pout, her hand having barely left C.C.'s when the signal alarms blared.

"Paladins, to your Lions now!" Allura ordered.

"Yes!"

"Got it!"

"On our way!"

As the Paladins all scrambled to their elevators, Nunnally let out a sigh of relief, leaning on a pair of crutches this time. If they found Zenobia and Zerith, that means they could finally find Rai and her brother.

"Hang on you two," Allura said, "We're coming to get you!"

"My Lord, please save yourself!" Bartley exclaimed in a panic as debris continued to rain down everywhere. He attempted to pull the Prince away as a large platform slowly dropped down from above, carrying with it Zero, another figure in green armor, Princess Euphemia, and Nonette Enneagram.

"Lady Enneagram!" Lloyd gasped, shielding his face, "And is that Zero?!"

Seeing the terrorist and one of his subordinates, the soldiers quickly raised their weapons to shoot them, only to be stopped by General Bartley, "Don't you fools! Princess Euphemia's with them! Capture them! Capture them!"

Rai struggled to his feet, his eyes wide, but he managed to grip his Bayard unsteadily.

Scanning the crowd, Zero cursed.

"Quiznack, we're in trouble!"

Then suddenly, something else caught Zero's eye. One of the soldiers that had his weapon pointed at him. But one look into his eyes told Lelouch that that was no soldier.

Instinctively, Lelouch shot at the soldier with lightning, and just as expected, the soldier vanished.

"Wha-what?!" Bartley exclaimed, having witnessed this too. An annoyed growl drew the group's attention to the center of the cave, and the Paladins' blood ran cold.

"What?!" Zero gasped at the sight of Haggar's hunched form. Her gold eyes glared back at him.

"No…" Rai muttered, taking a step back, pure terror freezing his spine, "What are you doing here?!"

Haggar shouted in fury and fired a beam of quintessence directly at Lelouch. The Black Paladin barely raised his arms in time to try and block when another crash echoed through the cave. Two large paws landed on either side of Zero, followed by a ferocious roar, which seemed to make the entire mountain tremble.

Lelouch didn't waste one more second, instinctively grabbing Euphemia around the waist, and with a yelp, Euphemia and Lelouch were snatched into Zen's mouth.

"Princess Euphemia!" both Lloyd and Bartley exclaimed as they watched as the princess was seemingly swallowed whole along with Zero.

Just as Zerith was about to scoop up Rai, the Green Paladin felt something grab him around his waist. He didn't have time to register who or what it was before he found himself and Nonette sprawled across the floor in Zerith's mouth.

The Lions didn't waste any more time as the duo shot out of the cave entrance, sending rocks, stone, and Knightmare Frames flying. Then Zen pivoted in the air, facing the cave entrance and her mouth lit up with blue light.

Lloyd gasped.

"HIT THE DIRT!"

A couple of soldiers fell on top of Schneizel to shield the Prince while everyone else immediately hit the cave floor and covered their heads just as Zenobia's blast of quintessence energy hit the Thought Elevator point-blank. The structure exploded and collapsed into rubble, leaving nothing salvageable.

The little boy gasped when he felt it, the feeling of the Thought Elevator collapsing. He fell to his knees, and he clutched his head, his eyes shaking with shock and rage as he took multiple rabid breaths.

"No… no…" He stuttered. "They… they destroyed the Thought Elevator!" V.V. ranted like a spoiled brat, "No! How dare you…! Voltron… you dare! You'll pay for this! You'll pay!"

C.C. blinked as she felt the exact same thing happen as well. At first, she was shocked, as destroying a Thought Elevator was no easy feat, but her expression quickly morphed into a smirk. She could only imagine the faces V.V., Charles, and Marianne were making right now.

"I did warn them, didn't I?" she stated with a satisfied smile, smothering a giggle.

"Viceroy, are you all right?" one of the soldiers gasped as everyone got to their feet.

"Yes, I'm fine," he muttered, dusting himself off, "So… that was Zero?"

"Halt! Stop where you are!" another soldier suddenly shouted.

Looking towards the entrance, the Second Prince spotted the cloaked woman that seemed to spook Zero. She was staring out at the sky with a scowl, likely watching the Lions fly off.

"Identify yourself!" Bartley shouted as soldiers surrounded the woman.

She simply growled, annoyed, before vanishing in a puff of smoke.

"Wha-what?!" Bartley exclaimed in shock, eyes wide, staring at where she once stood. Most of the other soldiers had similar reactions.

"Well… you don't see that every day," Lloyd commented.

Schneizel, on the other hand, narrowed his eyes, gaze calculating. Despite the loss of the Thought Elevator, he had learned two important things.

First, Zero was scared of that woman. Who she was, Schneizel didn't know, but it was rare that his brother showed actual fear to anyone. The last person to bring this emotion out of his brother was their own father.

And second… Those Lions had not had pilots in them when they had come to collect Zero and the green pilot. His logical mind kept saying that it was impossible, but he had seen it just now for himself!

Which allowed Schneizel to draw another conclusion he thought he never would in his life.

Those Lions weren't just advanced machines. They were  alive.

Schneizel's thoughtful expression soon shifted into an intrigued smirk.

"Well, well, this game just got  much  more interesting…"

Lelouch quickly scrambled to the cockpit and pushed Zen to fly faster. They had to warn the others, fast!

"Hailing Castle of Lions, this is Lelouch!" he exclaimed urgently.

"Lelouch! Are you and Rai all right?" Allura's voice carried over the speaker.

"Yes, we're both fine!" Lelouch nodded, "We're heading back as we speak."

"Heads up then!"   a voice inside his head exclaimed,  "We're coming to intercept you!"

"Wha-! Milly, is that you?" Lelouch stuttered.

  "Yep! Say hello to my new Geass, Lulu. I call it Absolute Telepathy."

"You made a contract with C.C.?" he asked.

"I knew I wouldn't have control over what the power would be, but I figured it was worth a try to see if it could be used to find you two," the Yellow Paladin explained over the radio this time.

"Wait, use what to find us?"  Rai questioned from inside Zerith.

"...Huh, there's a drawback already. I guess I can only talk to one person at a time,"  she deduced.

"We'll explore it's practical uses later," Lelouch said, "We'll meet you outside the castle. And Princess, inform the rest of the crew to expect some guests."

"Guests or prisoners?"  Allura asked for clarification.

"...One is for sure a guest, the other… I'm not sure. Rai?" Lelouch questioned.

"...We can decide when we're back on the ship,"  the Green Paladin said.

"Very well,"  Allura acknowledged,  "We'll see you a couple dobashes… I'm glad you're both all right."

With that, the intercom switched off, and Lelouch spotted several colorful figures heading towards him and Rai.

"Lelouch…" Euphie asked, noticing the frightened look still on her brother's face, "...Who was that? Down there?"

"Someone… very bad."

[artificialqueens]

Wild Flower, Chapter Seven (Shalaska) 7/11 - Freyja

A/N: Hello!! This chapter was so fun to write, oh my god. I love me some tender moments, but sometimes it’s nice to dip back into the action (not that this is lacking in tender moments, by all means ;)). Thank you to Frey for being so patient with my dramatics - if I have to talk about the possessive ’s’ for one second longer I think I might actually combust.

Summary: In which Sharon and Alaska go to a 7/11 Alaska robs someone. It doesn’t necessarily go as planned.

🌸

“They say I killed six or seven men for snoring. It ain’t true. I only killed one man for snoring.” — John Wesley Hardin

🌸

Alaska wakes up alone.

It’s still dark outside, the air cold from the lack of sunlight, and she stares at Sharon’s empty pillow for a long moment before she finally registers the low voices speaking just outside the tent. They’re easily recognizable as Jinkx and Sharon, and there’s a sense of urgency in them that has Alaska suddenly wide awake.

She sits up, her heart beating a little faster and listening closely. She can’t distinguish any words, but if she strains her ears, she can parse out a few - although, between the locusts and her own breathing, she’s going to have to get closer to actually understand anything.

She thinks briefly about just going out to join them, but something tells her that she’s not meant to hear. The idea makes her irritated, the lack of trust Sharon has in her once again showing its ugly face, and she’s immediately resolved to eavesdrop.

If Sharon thinks she can handle this life, then why even bother hiding something about it?

She gets up into a crouch and moves towards the entrance of the tent, holding her breath. As she stares at the line of dim moonlight leaking through the crack in the entrance, the cool breeze making it shift with the movement of the canvas, she gets a strange sense of deja vu. It’s not until she hears the name ‘Solomon’ that she realizes it’s because this is how she learned about this entire mess in the first place.

“She saw them outside Coady?”

“That’s what she said.”

Sharon sighs. “I can’t believe I thought we had the advantage.”

Jinkx snorts. “I think we still have it, Sharon. We know everything there is to know about them - they found the town we’re an hour away from.”

“An hour is still too close,” Sharon says, and Alaska imagines that she’s pinching the bridge of her nose in agitation. “With our luck–”

“With our luck, we got a map to their entire escape plan,” Jinkx interrupts, her voice soothing. “We’ll get to them first. We just have to get the supplies first.”

“The carriage tomorrow should have enough money,” Sharon says, thinking out loud. “With Roxxxy and Alaska, we should be able to catch it and strip it quickly enough.”

“And you’re sure about bringing Alaska?” Jinkx asks, amused.

There’s a pause. “Well, no,” Sharon admits, and Jinkx laughs. Alaska can’t blame her for her uncertainty, but that doesn’t stop the little pinch of hurt that twists in her chest. “But she needs to come.”

“Why?” Jinkx asks. “So she can speak their language?”

“Hopefully she won’t talk at all,” Sharon laughs. “Much less speak the language of old money. It’d be too suspicious.”

“Bringing Alaska seems too suspicious,” Jinkx points out. “Can she even handle it?”

“Well,” Sharon says, and Alaska can imagine the way her eyes roll up to the sky. “That may or may not be the point.”

“You’re using the one chance at money we have as a test trial?” Jinkx cries, voice growing a little loud. Sharon shushes her.

“She threatened to leave! What was I supposed to do?” she whispers harshly.

“I thought she wanted our protection?”

“Well - after that,” Sharon says. “She said she didn’t belong here.” Alaska’s heart stops at the reference to that evening, her own panicked blabbering echoing in her ears. She flushes, embarrassed.

“And you think she does,” Jinkx finishes, her voice soft.

“I know she does. She wants this, Jinkxie, she’s got the spirit for it, the will. She just needs to harden her stomach a little.”

“But not her heart?”

There’s a pause. “What?”

“You’ve always taken girls in, Shar, but you’ve never tried to force them into it. Are you–”

“I’m not forcing her, Jinkx. Jesus. I just - she wants this, and I sure as hell won’t let her leave without trying for it first.”

“And that’s the only reason why this is happening? Because she wants it?”

“Because I care about her,” Sharon says, and Alaska’s heartbeat increases tenfold, her chest warming even as her palms break out into a sweat.

“Did something happen between you two?” Jinkx asks after a moment. “You’ve been weird all day and so has she.”

“I–” Sharon cuts herself off. “We kissed.”

“Holy shit,” Jinkx says, and Alaska can’t tell if she’s pleased or concerned. “When?”

“When I took her out shooting. It was - I’ve never felt anything like it before.”

Neither have I, Alaska wants to say. She feels weightless, some strange mixture of elation and dread swirling in her stomach. Kissing Sharon had been the best thing she’d felt in her life, the press of her lips and her hands on her face feeling so safe and natural and right. But the nagging voice in her head saying it wasn’t supposed to feel like that won’t leave her alone, and she finds her stomach still sinking with guilt when she longs to hold Sharon’s hand in hers.

“Sharon,” Jinkx starts, but Sharon cuts her off.

“But she regrets it. I think it’s because she thinks she can’t stay, but if it isn’t–” her voice breaks a little, and Alaska frowns, surprised. Sharon recovers so quickly, however, that it has Alaska wondering if it even happened. “If it isn’t,” she continues, voice stronger, “I’ll still try to get her to stay. Because she wants this, and I care.”

Alaska is stunned. Her heart sinks in her chest, the need to cry suddenly present and pressing at the backs of her eyes, emotion suddenly overwhelming her. She doesn’t know what to do with herself. She wants Sharon’s care, she wants to stay, she wants to stay for Sharon and these women, and she wants the freedom to love and to live.

She can’t. She shouldn’t. But she does.

“I doubt it isn’t,” Jinkx whispers, and Alaska leans forward in a vain attempt to hear her better, worried that she’ll miss even a single word, and breathing quickly. “You should get some sleep, Shaz.”

“Fine,” Sharon sighs, and there’s a stomping sound as she stamps out her cigarette. “See you in the morning.”

“Mhm,” Jinkx hums, and footsteps start making their way towards the tent.

It’s not until they’re halfway there that Alaska remembers that Sharon probably won’t take kindly to being eavesdropped on.

She flings herself onto her sleeping palette, throwing a blanket over herself and arranging herself in what she thinks a deep sleep looks like. She shuts her eyes, and the sound of Sharon coming into the tent has her nearly opening them again instinctively, her pulse pounding in her ears.

She listens as Sharon pulls off her boots and dumps her hat and jacket over one of the crates, sighing. There’s a beat of silence.

“Jesus,” Sharon whispers, and Alaska tries not to tense with surprise. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?”

I have no idea, Alaska thinks as Sharon lies down, tossing and turning for a few minutes in an attempt to find a comfortable position. Alaska finds herself tempted to offer herself as an alternative pillow.

I have no goddamn idea.

🌸

Sharon has to shake Alaska awake the next morning, and Alaska barely has the time to open her eyes before Sharon greets her with, “You need some pants.”

“What?” Alaska asks, covering her eyes and groaning. “It can’t be time yet.”

Something soft hits her chest, and she blinks her eyes open to find a pair of tan pants crumpled on top of her.

“Put these on,” Sharon says, and Alaska looks up at her. She looks anxious. “We’re already a half hour behind schedule, so I’d appreciate it if you picked up the pace.”

Alaska glances at the entrance, where a sliver of pale light can be seen through the cracks. “It’s barely morning!”

“And we were supposed to get up at dawn,” Sharon tells her, and Alaska frowns, still a little disoriented and trying not to get irritated. Waking up early has never been a great talent of hers, but she’ll be damned when she admits that to Sharon.

“So why didn’t we?” she asks, sitting up. The pants fall into her lap, and she picks them up. “And what’s with these?”

“I overslept,” Sharon admits. “It’s the last time I’ll trust Willam with waking me up.”

“That sounds like a bad idea,” Alaska says drily, and Sharon groans.

“She had the last watch - there wasn’t much of a choice.”

Alaska hums, and she raises the pants again. “And these?”

“Robbing a carriage in a skirt isn’t much fun,” Sharon tells her, and Alaska’s heart skips a beat at the reminder.

“Right,” she says, mind whirling with questions and fantasies. How are they going to do this? Is she going to have to hurt somebody? Who are they robbing? Will she be shooting?

Is she going to fuck it all up?

“Hey,” Sharon says, jerking Alaska out of her thoughts. Her voice is softer, and she looks a little concerned. “Are you going to be okay?”

Alaska’s breath catches at the undercurrent of care in her tone, what she’d overheard last night fresh in her mind.

I’ll still try to get her to stay. Because she wants this, and I care.

Resolution steels in her gut, the urge to make Sharon happy swelling in her chest. Even if this doesn’t work out, she needs Sharon to know that she wanted it to. “I’m ready,” she says, meeting Sharon’s gaze confidently. “I can handle myself.”

Sharon looks surprised, but there’s a warm glint of pleasure in her eye that has Alaska puffing up a little with pride. “Good,” Sharon says, smirking slowly. “Glad to hear it.”

“Good,” Alaska says, and there’s a short moment in which they simply smile at each other, Sharon’s eyes filled with something like content. A shout from the outside has them snapping out of it, and Alaska jerks her gaze down to her lap, taking a deep breath. The room feels suddenly too hot despite the breeze coming in through the entrance, and she’s grateful when Sharon starts ducking out to leave.

“Meet me at the firepit when you’re done - I’ll tell you and Roxxxy what we’re going to do over some of Jinkx’s shitty coffee.”

Alaska can’t help the snort she lets out at the small dig. “Alright.”

And with that, Sharon leaves, and Alaska is left to contemplate the fact that she is falling hard and fast for an outlaw.

It doesn’t feel new - it feels like something she’s known for a while now, even if she hadn’t realized it. It was that smile that did it - Sharon had looked so content, kind, happy. Alaska had felt those feelings mirrored within herself, and everything clicked.

It isn’t shocking, but her heart still sinks, frustration bubbling up in her chest. Why can’t anything be fair?

She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. The situation is fucked - she’s going to get hurt, and so will Sharon. Strangely enough, it’s the latter factor that’s responsible for most of her anger.

It’s just more proof of how fucked she’s going to be if this doesn’t work out.

🌸

They leave an hour later, Sharon leading Alaska and Roxxxy down the narrow path that Alaska has seen only once before, and Alaska is excited.

The pants fit great - she hadn’t expected them to feel so freeing, and she’d practically pranced out of the tent, feeling strangely lightweight and agile. She’s certain she’d looked ridiculous, her struggle with ball dances establishing her as uncoordinated at best, but it hadn’t stopped her from kicking her legs out a few times on her way down to the fire pit.

Sharon had openly stared, a slight smirk curving her parted lips, and Alaska had flushed with pleasure. It was payback for those first few flustered moments at the stables, and she’d sat down next to Sharon with a confidence that she hadn’t had before, willing to do anything to get Sharon to look at her like that again.

She’d been given a small dusty Palomino named Peaches, and she’s gentler than Poundcake, taking Alaska’s commands with ease and trotting next to Roxxxy’s chestnut without hesitation. Alaska loves her.

They’re two hours out when Sharon starts slowing down, pulling off of the road they’d been following and up a hill, where a small overlook hangs over the path. Alaska and Roxxxy follow closely, and Alaska’s heart starts beating as they stop on the overhang, lingering near the small clump of trees that crowns the top of the hill.

“Remember the plan?” Sharon asks them, turning Cerrone around so that they can see her face.

“You ride ahead,” Roxxxy says, “and Alaska and I follow without being seen.”

“Right,” Sharon says. “Wait until I have everyone decently distracted before you come up to the back. And the signal?”

“I’ll flash the mirror,” Alaska says, rolling her eyes.

“Jesus, fuck. I’m sorry, Alaska,” Sharon says for probably the fourth time, and she sounds a little irritated, “but it isn’t a good idea for you to be close to the robbery. You’re brand new.”

“And the point of me coming was to see how I handle myself,” Alaska shoots back, and Sharon levels her with an unimpressed stare.

“One beer bottle and suddenly you get cocky,” Sharon says dryly, and Alaska’s face heats up.

“We’re not shooting anyone, Jesus. Let me help Roxxxy with robbing the trunk - more hands make a lighter burden.”

“Are you quoting something at me?” Sharon asks, aghast, and this time it’s Alaska’s turn to stare.

“It’s a proverb. Do you know what a proverb is, Sharon?”

“Of course I–”

“The carriage,” Roxxxy interrupts sharply, and all three women whip their heads towards the road, where a small black dot can be seen appearing over the crest of a hill.

“Alright,” Sharon says, turning back towards them and with a tone that says don’t you dare fuck around. “We wait until it’s just past us. I’ll race around and pretend like I’m catching up to them. Make sure you keep your distance when you start to follow. Got it?”

Alaska and Roxxxy nod silently. Sharon smirks suddenly, looking more alive than Alaska’s ever seen her.

“Let’s rob these rich bastards,” she says, and she tips her hat down low before egging Cerrone into a gallop, racing past Roxxxy down the hill.

Alaska glances at Roxxxy, her heart in her throat and a mix of excitement and anxiety making her breathe faster. Roxxxy smirks.

“Just follow my lead,” she says, clearly enjoying being in charge, and she pulls up her bandana so that it covers her mouth and nose, pulling her hat down low. Alaska rolls her eyes, but copies her, tugging Katya’s borrowed wide brim over her brow.

It makes her feel powerful - mysterious, even. It sends a strange thrill through her, and as Roxxxy begins racing down the hill, she doesn’t hesitate to follow, Peaches’s head just slightly behind Rigby’s.

They slow once the carriage is just within sight, trotting as they watch Sharon pull up right next to the window, tipping her hat and saying something that Alaska can’t even hear a whisper of.

It’s another moment before the carriage stops, Sharon grinning widely. Two small heads poke out near the front, the children enraptured by whatever Sharon is saying, and it’s safe to presume that the adults are sitting in the seat with its back turned to the trunk.

They watch for a few minutes, the children smiling and squirming and an adult hand reaching out to shake Sharon’s, and Sharon tosses her hair over her shoulder, dark curls bouncing with the motion.

“That’s the signal,” Roxxxy says. “You ready for this?”

“I have the mirror in my hand, yes,” Alaska deadpans, and Roxxxy grins, sliding off of Rigby and landing in the dirt with a soft thump.

“Wait to flash it until I’m back,” she tells her, and Alaska raises an eyebrow.

“Thanks for explaining,” she says, and Roxxxy winks.

“You’re welcome!” And with that, she lowers herself to the ground in a crouch, and starts creeping up towards the back of the carriage.

It seems for a moment all Alaska can hear is her heartbeat as Roxxxy finally reaches the trunk, popping open the gate with ease and reaching towards the heavy chest that sits right behind it.

Alaska glances behind her, worried. Nothing yet.

She looks back to find Roxxxy jiggling the lock on the chest, and she turns to look at Alaska with a worried expression, her eyes wide. Alaska’s heart drops at the sight.

Roxxxy mouths something at her, but Alaska can’t see very well.

‘What?’ she mouths back, shrugging to show her confusion. Roxxxy stills for a moment, thinking, before she starts waving Alaska towards her, mouthing what is now clearly a ‘help me’.

“Fuck,” Alaska says, and she hesitates. This is what she wanted, but now that it’s happening it feels like a mistake to leave her post. She shakes her head ‘no’.

She can feel Roxxxy’s glare even from fifty feet away. Her motions get more urgent, and she can tell that Sharon is losing the kids’ attention, one’s head having retreated back into the carriage. Time is ticking away, and the last thing Alaska needs is to be blamed for the mission going upside down because she didn’t help Roxxxy even after she’d begged to do just that.

“Fuck,” she says again, but she swings down from Peaches, giving her a soft pat before scurrying over to Roxxxy, crouched low. When she stops, she’s certain she can literally feel her blood pumping through her veins with the amount of adrenaline coursing through her.

“What?” she whispers, and Roxxxy holds out a hand.

“I need one of your pins.”

Alaska stares at her, eyes wide and panicked anger welling up in her chest. “You didn’t bring a fucking lockpick?”

“Just give me a pin,” Roxxxy hisses through gritted teeth, and Alaska pulls one out of her hair, slapping it into Roxxxy’s palm.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Alaska whispers, watching as Roxxxy shoves the pin into the lock and starts wiggling it around. “You’d better fucking know how to pick a l–”

“Have you always cursed like this?” Roxxxy says, and Alaska glares.

“Only when my life is at risk!”

“We’re fine,” Roxxxy says, but the panic in her voice betrays her. “Sharon’s got it– finally.”

The lock pops open with a small ‘click’, and Roxxxy takes it out and tosses it to the ground, lifting up the lid as little as possible, wary of drawing too much attention.

“Start grabbing as much as you can,” Roxxxy instructs, plunging her arms into the chest, and Alaska follows her lead.

She nearly gasps when she hits paper. It feels like there’s over fifty stacks of bills in the chest, and the one she pulls out looks like it’s worth about one hundred dollars. She stares at Roxxxy in astonishment.

“Who travels around with this kind of money?”

Roxxxy shrugs, shoving her own stack into her jacket. “Bankers? Sharon mentioned something about a big Chicago bank a few days ago.”

Alaska shakes her head. “Jesus. I don’t think even my–”

A gunshot interrupts her, echoing loudly.

Alaska’s blood instantly runs cold.

“What the fuck?” Roxxxy snaps, drawing her gun and standing. Alaska stands with her, heart pounding, looking around frantically.

There are what look like five men speeding towards them from the West, shouting incoherently and firing wildly into the air. As they approach, they begin to split apart, and Alaska knows that they’re aiming to surround them.

“Stop staring at them and draw your gun!” Roxxxy shouts at her, and Alaska jumps, hand flying to her waistband only to find nothing there. Her heart stops, but Roxxxy’s next shout helps her there as well: “Are you stupid? It’s in your holster!”

Alaska fumbles for the holster at her thigh, listening to the family in the carriage scream as the riders draw nearer. Just as she draws her gun, shakily aiming towards the rider heading straight towards them, the father shouts, “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Ride, goddamnit, ride!”

The carriage takes off, jolting into motion so quickly that the chest and a few other items tumble out of the back, landing with the sound of wood splintering apart. The sound of it jolts Alaska into action - she races to Peaches without a second thought, the sound of guns still echoing around them, and she can hear Roxxxy running right on her heels.

“Fuck,” Roxxxy says, as they both swing up onto their horses. “At least we still have the money.”

Alaska can’t bring herself to care about the money, not when there’s a high possibility that she or Sharon – Sharon.

Her heart drops into her chest. “Sharon, where’s–?” She cuts herself off, spotting Sharon not far from where she’d been earlier, and she eggs Peaches towards her without hesitation.

“What the hell is going on?” she shouts, slowing down so that she’s at Sharon’s side. Sharon’s frowning, but she isn’t shooting, despite the long rifle in her hands. Alaska follows her gaze - three of the riders have grouped together again, heading straight towards Sharon. When she glances behind her, Alaska sees the other two coming up on the rear. None of them are firing.

Why the hell isn’t anyone shooting?

“Why aren’t you shooting?” Roxxxy hisses from Sharon’s other side, evidently having followed Alaska there.

“Because they aren’t,” Sharon says simply, though her grip tightens on her rifle. “They want something, and it isn’t the money. I’m curious.”

“How could you possibly know that?” Roxxxy asks.

“Because we’d be dead if they did.”

Alaska looks back towards the riders to find them close enough that she can see their faces - one, she realizes, is a woman.

She’s tiny on her gigantic Percheron, a dark braid swinging behind her as she slows down in front of them, a sharp grin and even sharper eyebrows on her face. She’s flanked by two men, one younger with a dirt-streaked face and the other older, both with scraggly beards. “Looks like someone beat us to the chase, boys,” the woman says as they stop in front of them. She doesn’t even glance at Roxxxy when she aims her revolver at her face, her eyes clearly only for Sharon. It makes Alaska angry, and her own grip tightens around her gun. “And it’s none other than Sharon Needles.”

“Phi Phi O’Hara,” Sharon says, voice cool. She’s smirking, but it has a dangerous air about it. “Didn’t expect to see Solomon’s lapdog without her master.”

“It looks like you’ve got one of your own,” Phi Phi says, glancing pointedly at Roxxxy. “Tell her to stand down.”

“You really expect me to do that?” Sharon asks, and Phi Phi glares.

“We have the upperhand, Sharon!” she snaps, and Alaska jumps a little at the sudden tone shift. Sharon doesn’t look surprised. “Tell your dog to lower the gun!”

“Don’t call her a dog,” Sharon shoots back. “And there has to be a better reason to listen to you than ‘because I said so’.”

Phi Phi raises an eyebrow. “Fine,” she bites out. “We didn’t come here for the cash–”

“Unlikely,” Sharon mutters, and Phi Phi scowls.

“Do you want to hear the reason or not?”

There’s a beat of silence, before Sharon begrudgingly says, “Continue.”

Alaska glances at her, surprised. She’s never seen Sharon on the defensive before, and it’s clearly getting under her skin, Phi Phi’s abrasiveness notwithstanding. The glare on her face is without a smirk, any amusement gone from her expression. She’s taking this seriously, and that makes Alaska very, very afraid.

“Solomon wants to make a peace deal,” Phi Phi says. “He’s tired of fighting.”

Alaska quickly turns to look at Sharon, surprised. A peace treaty would be beneficial to everyone - no blood spilt, no threat hanging over their heads. Alaska wouldn’t have to live in fear for acting as an accidental spy. She’s just starting to warm to the idea when Sharon quickly shuts it down.

“No,” Sharon says immediately. “That’s not happening.”

“Why not?” Alaska asks, frowning, and Sharon glares at her.

“I don’t trust them,” she says, and she turns to Phi Phi. “I don’t trust you. This is clearly some sort of set up.”

Phi Phi looks furious. “How dare you–”

“You can tell Solomon to fuck off,” Sharon says heatedly, fury etched into the arch of her eyebrows.

“He says he’s sorry fo–”

“How fucking dare you bring that up,” Sharon interrupts, her voice suddenly calm, angry in a way that yelling never gets across. Alaska finds herself freezing at the sound of it. “Leave. Before I shoot you.”

“We’re not leaving,” Phi Phi says stubbornly, and there’s a brief moment that feels like the calm before the storm.

“Fine,” Sharon says. Then, she shoots the young man to the right.

Everything erupts into chaos.

The horses all buck out of fright, fleeing away from the sudden noise as their riders struggle to regain control. Shouts and more gunshots fill the air, and Alaska’s adrenaline goes into overdrive, yanking at Peaches’s reins with more strength than she thought she had.

“Shit!” Alaska grits out as Peaches rears back, forcing Alaska to hold on for dear life. As she manages to get the horse back under control, twisting the reins and forcing her to turn to the side a little, she looks up to see that Phi Phi’s gang has scattered, each trying to pull their horses back to the scene, yelling angrily over the horses’ frantic neighing.

She looks for Roxxxy, and finds her too far away, still struggling to get Rigby back in order. Sharon, much closer to Alaska, appears to be just the opposite - Cerrone stands, stomping his feet nervously and kicking back a little, but standing relatively still, and Sharon is calmly aiming her rifle at a man doing just the same to her several yards away.

Alaska’s breath catches, but before she can say anything, a shot rings out, making her flinch violently. Fear strikes her like lightning as she stares at Sharon, waiting for her to fall, wounded or dead, but she never does.

Alaska looks over to find the man’s gray horse speeding away, squealing and dragging its rider along by the foot caught in its reins. It makes her stomach churn, and when it clashes with the fear still running through her veins, she feels as if she’s going to be sick.

We almost had a peace treaty, Alaska thinks, as Phi Phi shouts something angrily, she and the rest of her riders stilling. Sharon had been the one to turn to violence, to murder, not Solomon.

The realization shakes her, and for the first time she wonders: am I really on the right side?

“Last chance, Needles!” Phi Phi yells, her voice carrying well in the wind. “Solomon wants peace - don’t fucking ruin it!”

“I’ve just murdered two of your men and you still want peace?” Sharon shouts back, laughter in her voice. Alaska trots over to her, so that they’re standing only a few feet apart. Sharon has a disbelieving smirk on her face, her eyes wide. “What the fuck do you think I am? A fucking idiot?”

“All will be forgiven if you just stop shooting for five fucking seconds!”

“I’d say it’s been around thirty,” Sharon says, and then she lifts her gun up again, suddenly looking at the man to Phi Phi’s left, and Alaska feels like she’s watching it in slow motion.

This isn’t justice - this was a senseless bloodbath, and Alaska is beginning to feel like Sharon’s the one that’s been prolonging it. She has to stop this. She has to save Sharon from herself - she has to save herself from Sharon.

Without thinking any further, Alaska lunges over and knocks the gun out of Sharon’s hands.

A gunshot cracks out anyway, and Alaska jumps as a bullet whistles right next to her ear, nicking the very top of her jacket with what feels like a light tap. She whips her head towards the man to find him staring at them, gun smoking.

She doesn’t feel anything, to her surprise. Fear seems far away, and when Sharon snaps her gun back up and shoots the man squarely in the chest, knocking him to the ground, Alaska can only think about how she’s completely and utterly useless, whether she’s working for or against any of these people.

She almost died, and it would have been for nothing - Sharon would have killed that man anyway, albeit being more justified in it, and Alaska would be dead.

She flinches again as Roxxxy shoots the last man, leaving only Phi Phi to stand against them. She feels like a predator - a murderer terrorizing his last victim.

This isn’t what she signed up for.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Alaska,” Sharon hisses under her breath, hurriedly flipping her rifle open and thumbing shells into it with expert hands. “Are you insane?”

“Are you?” Alaska hisses back, the shock breaking over her and manifesting in anger and fear. “You’re just going to sit there and kill people who haven’t even raised a weapon–”

“Did you fucking see that bullet? He coud have fucking killed you Alaska, but by some miracle you–”

“He wouldn’t have shot if you hadn’t started aiming.”

“You should pay more attention before you start making accusations, Alaska,” Sharon says coldly, flipping her gun closed and glancing at Alaska. “He was aiming at you when I first looked at him. Chew on that.”

Alaska sucks in a breath, her heart sinking with guilt and a little bit of fear. She’d been a target. It makes sense - she’s running around with the Needles gang, she’s going to be assumed to be one of them. She’s trying to be one of them. Sharon had been keeping her word.

She hadn’t kept her promise about no killing, but Alaska doesn’t have the wherewithal to argue that point right now. Mostly because along with the fear that comes with almost being shot, she feels a kind of thrill, an adrenaline that makes her blood sing.

She could so easily be seduced by it.

Sharon lifts her gun up towards Phi Phi, frowning.

“What the fuck is going on here, O’Hara?” Sharon asks, training her rifle on the other woman. “This is beyond a peace treaty. Solomon’s sent you on a suicide mission, and I can’t believe you’re letting him.”

Phi Phi smirks, but when she lowers her gun, her hands clearly shake. Alaska feels her heart go out to her, her own fear acting as a sort of tool for empathy. “Solomon knows what he’s doing. I trust him.”

“You sound like a fucking cult member,” Sharon says, lip curling with disgust, and her finger inches towards the trigger.

Alaska grabs the barrel, catching Sharon’s attention and careful not to move the gun.

“Sharon,” Alaska says warningly, her stomach dipping in sudden alarm. “Stop. You said - you told me there wouldn’t be any killing–”

“Alaska,” Sharon begins sharply, her tone clearly stating that she is at the end of her rope. “This is hardly an innocent wo–”

“This is a murder in cold blood!” Alaska interrupts, panic making everything too slow, and adrenaline making her react too quickly. She meets Sharon’s gaze confidently, and she keeps herself from shirking away from the anger in the outlaw’s eyes. She can tell Sharon isn’t inclined to listen to her, so she pulls out the last card she has, desperate for the murders to stop and to go back to pretending Sharon isn’t a cold blooded killer. “Sharon, if you kill her, I’m done.”

Sharon clenches her jaw, her lips pressed tightly together. For a moment, Alaska thinks she’s about to be shot down. Sharon lets out a shaky sigh. “Fine. A hostage is always useful, anyway.”

Alaska sags with relief, ignoring Phi Phi’s pale-faced confusion and Roxxxy’s noise of protest, and instead glancing nervously at Sharon’s face. She can’t read her expression.

“Are you going to give her the special treatment?” Alaska asks, feeling bold with her new win. She’d done something. “Or was that just for me?”

Sharon doesn’t laugh, but Alaska sees the corner of her mouth twitch.

They’re going to be okay.

🌸

They ride to camp in a cold silence, taking twice as long with Phi Phi’s horse trailing behind them by a rope, Phi Phi lying on its back with her hands and feet tied.

The silence continues up until Jinkx asks what happened, glancing at Phi Phi, and Sharon explodes with an angry explanation, glaring at Alaska nearly the entire time.

Alaska is beginning to doubt how okay they will be.

“Solomon’s gang found us,” Sharon snaps, swinging off of Cerrone and tying him to one of the posts. “Alaska wasn’t at watch, so we got no warning. They offered peace - obviously bullshit. Alaska nearly got herself killed, and the kidnapped princess over here owes Alaska her life.”

Alaska bristles at the unfair picture Sharon is painting, embarrassed and indignant. “There’s a little more to the story than that, Sharon,” she snaps out, sliding off of Peaches. Jinkx walks over and takes the reins from her, looking between them with a concerned expression on her face.

“Did something happen between you two?”

“Alaska disobeyed orders and nearly fucked us over. Twice.”

Alaska glares at Sharon, who meets her gaze boldly. “I’m sorry for trying to take agency,” she sneers, clenching her fists with unreleased energy. “Isn’t that what you wanted me to do? Or did you really just want another dog at your command?”

An icy silence falls over the five of them, and Alaska is surprised to see hurt flicker across Sharon’s face before it goes completely blank with anger.

“In my tent. We need to talk.”

Alaska suddenly feels nauseous with guilt, and she takes a hesitant step towards Sharon. “Sharon–”

“I’ll meet you there as soon as this is taken care of,” Sharon says, motioning towards Phi Phi, and Alaska nods, her stomach twisting. Sharon isn’t looking at her anymore.

She heads to the end of camp, sun dried grass crunching under her feet, and risks a glance behind her just before she ducks into the tent. It’s hard to see with the setting sun directly behind the four women, but when she shields her eyes somewhat, she can see Sharon standing a little off from the group, her hand pinching her nose. Jinkx approaches, placing a hand on her shoulder, and Sharon relaxes into her touch without hesitation.

Alaska rips open the tent flap and steps inside, a fire burning low in her stomach. She has the desperate urge to break something, and she casts about the room for anything of Sharon’s that might service her in that.

She finds nothing, and she’s just getting ready to kick Sharon’s bedding around, her anger still begging for an outlet, when a glint from the set of drawers in the corner catches her eye. It looks like a chain is hanging haphazardly out of the top drawer, and she steps over to grab it, curiosity peaked. Sharon doesn’t seem the type to wear jewelry.

It’s a necklace, with a small, rusty locket hanging off a delicate silver chain. It looks like it hasn’t been worn in years, but the green tinge to the chain tells her that at least at some point, it had been worn constantly. From the way it had been hanging out of the drawer, she would guess that it had been tossed there recently and carelessly, even though she would have noticed something like this on Sharon’s throat.

She pries open the locket with little difficulty, and it falls open, its hinges loose from age. In it sits two pictures: one of Sharon, younger and eyes a little softer, and one of an older woman Alaska has never seen before.

She has light hair, either gray or blonde, and high cheekbones that match her regal smile. Her eyes are heavy-lidded, and her brows are rounded, giving her an appealing softness. Who was this? Who is she to Sharon? Her mother? Is she still alive? Why doesn’t Sharon t–

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Alaska jumps, her heart jolting in her chest. She whirls around to find Sharon standing in the middle of the tent, staring at her with disbelieving anger.

There’s a beat of guilty silence, before Alaska’s curiosity makes her break it.

“Who is this?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Sharon snaps out. “Put it back.”

Her tone makes irritation burst within Alaska. “What? Are you too afraid to tell me about this, too?”

“Forgive me for not wanting to share my past with you right now, Alaska! Not when I don’t even know if–” she cuts herself off, pressing her lips together. “Just, put it back.”

“Fine,” Alaska says shortly, and she chucks the thing back into the drawer, taking some satisfaction in the loud clatter it makes. “There. Happy?”

Sharon looks furious. “No. Even if you fucking treated my things with respect, I wouldn’t be happy. You fucked me over, Alaska. You put everyone at risk, and you don’t seem to understand that.”

“That’s not the point,” Alaska shoots back.

“Then what, pray tell, was the point? Saving the enemy even if it means hanging the rest of us out to dry?”

“I wasn’t– I didn’t see the man aiming at me, Sharon, what was I supposed to do? Let you shoot him?”

“Yes!”

“You shot them unprovoked, fuck, Sharon, I can’t stand by that!”

“If you want to live this life, you have to,” Sharon says.

“Maybe I don’t want this life!” Alaska bursts out, and the words feel wrong even as she’s saying them. She continues, however, her mind racing with all of her pent up emotions and fears. “I don’t want to be a - a fucking murderer, Sharon! This isn’t the fucking cost I’m willing to pay!”

“We kill because it’s fucking necessary,” Sharon says, her own voice rising to match Alaska’s. “You’re acting like it’s some fucking game we play–”

“They were offering peace! Peace! Tell me where in there it was necessary to shoot first!”

“Have you considered the fact that maybe I’ve run into these people before, Alaska? They’re not trustworthy.”

“You haven’t even given them a chance–”

“I have!” Sharon shouts, and Alaska falls silent in surprise. “I fucking reached out and I got burned, Alaska. It was the biggest mistake of my life and I am not fucking doing it again, not on my fucking grave.”

There’s a long pause in which Sharon visibly collects herself, looking shaken. “Someone died, because I was stubborn and I thought Solomon was our best chance at getting help. You almost died today, Alaska, bec–”

“Because I tried to do the same thing,” Alaska finishes, the anger rushing out of her. Sharon nods, a strange expression on her face. It takes Alaska a moment to realize that it’s grief.

“It was less about the peace,” Alaska confesses, her heart softening and battling the urge to just hug Sharon and forget about the argument. There’s something fundamental here, though, that she needs Sharon to agree to. “More about the killing.”

“I know I broke my promise,” Sharon says, “but I was trying to keep another one.”

Alaska opens her mouth to say ‘not with that first shot, you weren’t’, but Sharon’s outburst has spun even that in a more justified light. She still won’t stand for it, however. “It’s not about the promise. It’s about the killing.”

Sharon frowns at her. “It’s necessary.”

“Except when it’s not,” Alaska says, growing a little frustrated. “You don’t need to kill people, Sharon. You’re better than that.”

“Alaska–”

“Promise me you won’t kill unless, I don’t know, you have a gun to your head. Promise me you won’t be the first to shoot.”

“I can’t–”

“Promise me this, and I’ll stay.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“You’ll stay?” Sharon asks, her expression relaxing completely in shock, happiness at its edges. Something warm pools in Alaska’s chest.

“If you promise.”

“I’ll do my best,” Sharon says, and Alaska nearly pushes for more, before Sharon takes a step closer and her brain abandons her.

“Good enough,” she says, and Sharon breaks out into the brightest grin she has ever seen.

“Alaska,” she says, joy coloring her voice, and Alaska finds herself grinning back. “Before I kiss you, I need you to know that I swear I’m not happy because I have another dog at my command.”

“I know,” Alaska says, guilt still sharp in her throat. “I didn’t mean it, when I said it. I was just–”

Sharon cuts her off with a kiss, and Alaska melts.

It’s harder than their last kiss, Sharon pressed up against Alaska and gripping her waist tightly, the both of them pouring the intensity of the last few hours into the moment between them.

Alaska plunges her hands into Sharon’s curls, twisting the thick strands between her fingers, a desperate heat burning low in her belly as Sharon’s hands slide up her sides. Suddenly hungry for more, she tugs on Sharon’s hair, and they break apart as Sharon jerks her head back.

“Take my shirt off,” Alaska gasps, and Sharon looks at her, surprised. There’s a pleased expression in her eyes.

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one giving orders?”

“Please,” Alaska breathes, and Sharon smirks.

“As you wish,” she murmurs, and she slides her hands up Alaska’s chest, pressing over her breasts as she makes her way to the top button. Alaska arches into the touch, and Sharon smiles, pleased. “I haven’t even gotten the damn thing off, baby, be patient.”

The pet name only makes Alaska more eager, and she groans a little in frustration as Sharon begins her work, moving too slowly for Alaska’s taste. In an effort to help speed things along, her own hands fly to Sharon’s shirt, fumbling with the buttons. She’s never been more grateful for the absence of a corset - these buttons are difficult enough.

Sharon finally gets Alaska’s shirt undone, and Alaska gives up about halfway through Sharon’s to allow her to slide the fabric off of her shoulders and down her arms, the cotton making a soft sound as it hits the floor. Sharon’s gaze moves over her eagerly, a heat in her eyes that makes Alaska weak in the knees.

“You’re beautiful,” she breaths, and Alaska lunges forwards to pull her in for another kiss, sliding her hands into Sharon’s shirt. Sharon gasps at the touch, and desire makes Alaska dig her fingers in a little harder, breathing catching at Sharon’s resulting moan.

Somehow, they end up lying on the mess of blankets in the middle of the floor, Sharon on top and straddling Alaska, kissing her deeply. Alaska still has her hands in Sharon’s shirt, hanging deliciously open, and she experimentally brushes her nipple.

Sharon’s moan means everything.

Sharon slides her hand down Alaska’s stomach, undoing her belt slowly with both hands. Alaska’s heart stutters as she feels the belt loosen, and Sharon smiles into the kiss, her fingers dipping under the waistline of Alaska’s pants and below her underwear. Alaska squirms underneath her with pleasure, and Sharon laughs, breaking off the kiss and stopping just short of where Alaska wants her to be.

“Is this okay?” she whispers, and Alaska whines.

“What do you think?” she breathes out, and Sharon finishes her journey.

Alaska’s brain completely short circuits.

She’s already wet, so Sharon has no trouble gliding her finger up and down, and Alaska’s hips buck to help her along. She thinks this is what euphoria feels like.

She’s had affairs with other girls before - kissed them, touched them - but she’s never gotten this far. This is, this is-

Sharon slips a finger inside of her, and the world comes to a halt. She gasps, her hands clenching a little on Sharon’s waist. Sharon smirks, and she moves her hand just slightly.

Alaska sees stars.

[hardyimagines]

Lemon Sherbet

Request for Reggie Kray Drabble. The reader owns the sweet shop that Reggie buys his lemon sherbets from and the rival gang trashes the shop and abuses the reader abit aswell and when Reggie finds out he does everything he can to help the reader ( you can jazz it up abit just a little idea that came into my head I love your writing it’s so good)

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The shop wreaked of sweets. The aroma of cotton candy was so strong, it was almost tasteable. On most days it was a good thing, the only time the scent was agitating was on mornings — rare ones, when you or any other person felt sick. It could be a bit overwhelming. Today was not one of those days.

“Morning, Bert!” You called the second you stepped inside. “Bell’s not working again.”

The silver bell that hung above the doorway was still swinging from the door being opened and then closed. The object hung from a sturdy rope, tied tightly around one of the brown beams that lined the ceiling. The usual tinking sound that rung out when a customer entered wasn’t there though and that was a dilemma. If you couldn’t hear the customers when you were stocking the shelves, then you couldn’t tend to them and that led to frustrated clientele that were sure to avoid coming back.

“Fucking thing.” Bert moved from his position behind the register. The surface was completely see through, resembling a window. The glass had to be transparent so that families that stumbled in could see the variety of candy that the shop offered. You could see the new pair of pinstriped red and white pants Bert had on long before he emerged from behind the counter. The corners of your lips twitched. You found an immense amount of joy in the man’s outfits. He dressed carelessly — he didn’t worry about the opinions of others and you loved it.

The white-haired man brushed his sticky hands off on his apron before pulling his thin lips into an even thinner line. He stared up at the bell, too high for him to reach without a ladder, and scrutinized the reasoning for the lack of sound. His fingers trembled, shaking from his old age. His skin looked calloused and dry and you could tell that it irritated him for he was scratching the rough surface with his chipped fingernails. “I don’t know why the damn thing can’t just do its job. It’s a bell, it’s meant to ring!” His exasperated words made you smile lazily. He was never actually angry no matter how his tone sounded. Bert’s green eyes, so flooded with emotion, moved toward you. His almost invisible eyebrows lifted which effectively created deeper lines across his wrinkled forehead. “Looks like I’m going to have to go out and buy a new one.” The man lifted his coat from the tall, slender rack in the corner. He drew the heavy brown material on to his arms, ensuring the sleeves were smoothed down properly before he gaving you a knowing look. “You can handle the shop until I get back?”

You were in the midst of tying your apron around your neck. Your strands of lengthy hair were brushed over your shoulders to reside in the front of you. Nodding your head toward his words, you almost scoffed. “Let us not forget I do own the place..” He didn’t pick up on the playful sarcasm. He gave you a look of sweet confusion, shaky fingers curling around his wallet. The black leather was ripped in many places. He opened the thing and inspected the contents, making sure he had some money tucked away inside before he ventured out. He was no stranger to the embarrassment that came along with forgetting your money at home. “I can handle it.” You assured him. He’d sold you the business a little while ago — but despite the fact that you were the new owner, he enjoyed hanging around to help out.

Pinching the handle connected to the little window, you opened the secure space that led to the assorted candy. Grabbing one of the lemon sherbets, you drew the tangy treat out from its space inside the bucket and popped the unwrapped treat past your lips. Waving toward Bert when he tipped his top hat toward you, you smiled fondly, watching as the door slammed shut automatically behind his retreating form. The man made his way out into the gloomy city, fist curled in the front of his coat to hold the fabric closed and somewhat protect him from the expected wind.

It was quiet in the shop. Nothing apart from the quiet whirring from the fridge in the corner could be heard — and now the occasional tapping of the candy in your mouth against your teeth. You folded your arms and set them on the tall counter, now all you could do was wait.

Down the street, a quiet establishment sat. The lights were dim, the music was low, and the interior wasn’t as lively as it would be once the sun was gone. Reggie Kray’s club was one of the most popular in town, but right now it was dead. Apart from early-drinker’s, alcoholics, there was nobody inside. Reggie was on his way out, fingers wrapped around a wad of money he’d just been given. He cradled the bills in his palm as if they were treasure. He was a big fan of money, and a big fan of saving said money. There was only one thing he found himself never being able to say no to, and that was the sweet treats sold at the shop on the corner. It was purely unlucky that the business had been placed so close to his club.

The dull scuffing of his polished, black shoes could be heard as he made his way down the length of the sidewalk. Cigarette butts littered the walkway, similar to the stick he cradled in his hand. He pressed the cigarette against his lips and counted the amount of tossed rolled paper’s. He always disposed of his properly, so by the time he reached the number ten, he was laughing in disbelief. Reggie inhaled deeply, taking a very long drag from the relaxing cigarette in his hand. He took a few puffs, relishing in the taste, smoke, and overall feel that he was left with. His shoulder pressed against the brick wall, using the sturdy surface to briefly hold himself up while he finished off the expensive cancer stick. He tongued his cheek, rolling the thin paper between his fingers as he inspected the thing. It had about two drags left before he shoved the lit end against the brick, killing the flame. He licked his lips before tossing the cigarette into the bin by the door.

The door opened and a gust of wind raced through the shop. The cold air wrapped itself around, you, the cute cashier who always seemed to be on duty. You rolled the lemon sherbet from the left side of your mouth to the right side, fixated eyes roaming the length of your favorite customer. He was the most polite, talkative, sincere man you’d ever met, and if he wasn’t so much older and considered to be a dangerous criminal, maybe you’d make a move on him.

“Morning, Mr. Kray.” You spoke up softly. He could instantly tell that you had a sweet in your mouth. It was audible in your voice, effectively making you sound a bit more hollow. He shoved his hands into his pockets, a custom action of his upon arrival. He approached the counter, blue eyes scanning the length of what you had to offer. You both knew he’d get a handful of lemon sherbets, but you played dumb. The longer he took to scrutinize the treats, the longer you had to ogle him — to talk to him.

“Morning, babe.” His lips curved upward in the slightest. The confidence he carried sent your stomach into a tightly bound knot. His brother wasn’t the same as him. He was much more shy. He was quieter. And he walked in with a blunt order and an extended hand, always knowing what he wanted before he even walked through the entrance. Reggie, he’d stand here for ten minutes, pretending to be staring at anything but the lemon flavored sweet. “Good day so far?”

“I just got in. Hasn’t been too busy though. I think you’re the only person with a sweet tooth this early in the morning.” Your attempt to make him laugh was successful. The hearty sound left him loud enough to fill the quiet shop. Not a lot of effort was required, but still, the sound was nice to hear. Your hands folded together in front of you, clasped securely against the front of your apron as you peered over the counter at the bloke.

“I don’t have a sweet tooth, right, I’ve just got a lemon sherbet.. tooth.” He squinted, replaying his words over and over in his brain until he’d internally called himself an idiot. He really needed to think before he spoke. He just sounded like a babbling git. His soft eyes lifted to yours, genuine and warm. “Been a good day then, yeah? Apart from the lack of...” His hand lifted to smooth down his gelled locks.

You sensed he wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence, so you let your breath of amusement be the gap he needed to fill. Smiling sweetly in his direction, you nodded. “It’s been a very nice day. It’s not too cold out, I was thinking it’d be the perfect day to go down to the new city tower.” You’d forgotten the name, but he didn’t seem to notice or care.

“Oh, right, yeah, not too cold.” He pursed his lips. He wasn’t sure why you were the only girl in this gloomy, crowded city that made him feel so tongue-tied and nervous, but you were and it was times like these — when he wanted to talk smoothly and keep a conversation going — that he hated it. “Prettiest to go at night, you’d think, so you can see all the lights, right, but that’s probably not too wise to do on your own.” He moved his fingers to the thick watch that cradled his wrist. His finger moved along the strap, absentmindedly caressing it.

“Don’t worry about me, Mr. Kray, I’m a bit too.. nervous to do things like that on my own. Heights and me, we don’t get along.”

Reggie wore a slow smirk. It was lopsided and fitting. The lines on his forehead deepened the longer he looked at you and it was then that he felt the courage to ask if you’d mind if he took you. His palm pressed against the top of the counter, resting there as he pondered over the best way to word such a forward question. Reggie took his time and while that wasn’t usually a problem, it was in that moment. The door opened and Bert sauntered in. There was no ding from the bell so Reggie hadn’t noticed his arrival until the bloke spoke up. In his worn palms, he cradled a white, plastic bag. It rustled noisily, weighed down by the small, unrusted new bell.

“Found this.” Bert beamed. “It’s smaller, but it’s loud and it’ll do the trick. I figure we won’t have to replace it for a few years.” He looked baffled by the creation. His worn eyes lifted to Reggie, as kind and polite as always. He didn’t care what the Kray’s did for a living, the boys were nice to him, so he was nice to them. “Morning, Reggie. How’s Violet doing?”

Reggie, though internally surprised by the third voice in the room, externally showed no signs of being startled. He leaned against the counter, smirk morphing into a sweet grin. “She’s doing good, Bert, thanks, mate.” Tipping his head, he looked back to you. He really wasn’t sure now how to go about asking you out in front of the third party in the room so he told himself he’d do it next time.

“Lemon Sherbets?” Your brows raised in question.

“Am I that predicatable?” He watched your fingers as you sunk them into the jar of sherbets. A bag of them contained maybe ten, but he watched you shove handful after handful of the treats into the container before handing them over to him.

“No, it was just a lucky guess.” Sending the man a wink, you handed him the bag and took the bill that he handed you. Your fingers grazed his, warm to the touch, and once he’d taken the bag you wanted to ask for it back just in hopes of touching again. Dropping your arms to your side, you fluttered your lashes before turning around to tuck the money away in the drawer. “Have a good rest of your day, Mr. Kray.”

Temptation urged him to tell you to call him Reggie, but you never listened. It was always so formal. “I’m sure I’ll see you again very soon, Y/N.” Internally, you groaned out at the fact that he’d remembered your name. You’d told it to him the first time you’d met him and he’d remembered it for all this time. But a large part of you swallowed down the hope that he actually felt something even remotely close to attraction for you because you wore a name tag.

Reggie bid you goodbye with one last look before disappearing from the shop and heading out into the streets, bag full of lemon sherbets already begging him to suck on them.

Bert could see the evident attraction on your face as you watched the gangster leave. Reggie Kray was one of the most confident, sly, men that Bert had ever known, but he’d never seen two giddy people so at a loss for words. He didn’t say anything though, it wasn’t his place.

“Alright,” Bert drew you out of your trance. “Because of how slow it is, I think I’m going to run a few more errands if that’s okay with you?” He set the bell down on the counter before opening the bag it was in and dragging it out. He shook it for good measure, ensuring that it actually worked before he went through the trouble of hanging it. His eyes briefly lifted to yours, waiting for a response.

“Mh?” You were faraway. “That’s fine. I don’t think too many people will come by today.” Your fingers curled around the stool to your left. Dragging the tall black seat so it lined up with the register, you dropped down on the cushioned platform and watched as Bert moved to the closet in the corner to receive the step ladder. The closet creaked open noisily, an irritating sound that made your teeth hurt. Diverting your stare to the sweets, your legs kicked lazily as they dangled from the high position.

Bert gripped the six-step tool before dragging it toward the door. He twisted the lock so no customers tried to come in while he was hanging the bell, before stepping up on to the first step and then the second. He climbed to the very top of the ladder before pushing the bell into his pocket briefly so he could remove the broken one. The rope was old and wiry, it’s strong, rough strands stabbed at his sensitive flesh as he unwound it from the post. Gripping the heavy, soundless bell, he shoved it into his opposite pocket before dragging out the new one and tying it in place. Bert smiled triumphantly before climbing down and off of the ladder. He kicked the stepstool to the side, out of the entrance before unlocking the door and gleefully looking in your direction when the door opened and the bell rung.

You stood from the stool, soft eyes falling to the child that toddled alongside her mother as they entered. “Good morning.” Her voice was so soft it was hard to hear. The woman removed the navy blue gloves that embraced her hands and wrists. She folded the material over her purse before coming to a stop beside the counter. “What’s the best thing here for her?” She looked toward the girl who couldn’t have been more than four.

The child had wide eyes, they gleamed with innocence and curiosity. She was quiet, rosy cheeks insinuating that she felt shy over being spoken of.

“Chocolate.” You spoke up without hesitation. “Taffy is too chewy and our sherbets can be swallowed too easily.” Reaching into the stock of candy, you grasped a piece of chocolate before handing it to the woman. “She can try it, see if she likes it? We don’t mind handing out samples.” Laying your elbows on the counter, you watched the woman peel the wrapping paper off of the treat before squatting down so she could assist her daughter in tasting the candy.

The child looked ecstatic, like she’d been deprived of the sweet-tasting food for her whole life. Her small hand wrapped around her mother’s wrist, steadying it so she could take a nibble of the treat. Her mother watched under an intense stare, waiting to read her little girl’s reaction. The child lit up like a star in the night sky. Her mother gave her a brief grin before looking back toward you.

“I’ll just buy a small bag of them.” She explained as she sunk her hand into her bag and rummaged around for her wallet. Pens, cigarettes, jewelry, it was all in the way. She let out a very soft huff before opening the bag all the way and glaring down at the contents. Her narrowed eyes didn’t calm until she spotted the small, square wallet. She pulled out the exact amount of change before setting it on the countertop. You traded her, chocolate for money.

“Have a good day!” You waved toward the pair. They vanished without saying much else, but they wore kind smiles that expressed their gratitude.

Bert was on their heels. “I’ll be back in a bit!” He called out as he adjusted his hat. It toppled to one side annoyingly, but he fixed the cursed thing before adding one more thing. “Lock up tonight! Don’t wait on me!” He wasn’t sure how long his errands would take him, the crowds were unpredictable. The sound of the bell going off sounded, signaling the exit of the trio. You took your seat back on the stool before heaving a quiet sigh. Back to waiting.

The clock in the corner ticked by, minute hand moving at the slowest pace possible. Each time you looked at it, it seemed like twenty minutes had gone by, but in reality only two had. You knew it would go by quicker if you didn’t constantly look toward the damn thing, but it was hard. You didn’t have much else to do apart from stocking and that wouldn’t take too long. Adjusting yourself on the stool, you looked to the clock again. But at least stocking was something to do. Pushing yourself up and off of the chair, you moved out of the room and vanished into the storage room so you could get boxes and refill all the shelves. Maybe this would take up some time.

It did. Two hours had gone by and you were still sat on the floor in one of the isles. Situated on your knees, you pushed bag after bag of sweets into their rightful place on each shelf, ensuring that they lined up with the proper price tag and label. Overall it had been a very slow day. Only one other person had come in after the lady and her daughter and he hadn’t even purchased anything. He came in, looked around, asked about taffy and then left. He’d been here about twenty minutes ago, so for all that time you’d been uncomfortably sat on your knees, wiggling and standing now and then to try and get the circulation moving in your legs.

The bell sounded noisily, drawing you from your current task. “I’ll be with you in just a second!” You called out. No reply was given, but you figured the customer was trying to decide on what to get, too invested in ogling the candy to worry about responding to you. Your hands pressed against your knees, using them in order to push yourself up to a standing position. Sucking in a deep breath, you adjusted the ties on your apron and made your way back to the front. A kind smile resided on your lips when you emerged from the back, but the customers that stood before you didn’t look interested in candy at all. Nine men stood behind the counter, each one dressed down in a suit. Your curious eyes moved over the blokes, studying each one as discreetly as possible. It would be foolish on your part to ask them why they were in your establishment, so instead you merely moved further into the room, only coming to a stop when you’d reached the glass case of candy. “What can I get you?”

The man at the front wore a deceiving grin. He had blonde hair, almost golden. It was slicked back in place and his squinted, blue eyes were latched on to you. He resembled a hawk, watching its prey. The longer you stared at him, waiting to see what it was that he wanted, the more it became clear to you that this was the same man who’d been in the shop earlier. Fear welled in your belly when none of the men bothered to speak. They weren’t here for candy. You shrunk back in the slightest, discreetly examining their proximity and your chances of running away. Slim. But not impossible.

You twisted around sharply and darted for the room that you’d just emerged from. You didn’t make it two steps before the men in the room raced after you. The brunette to your left ceased your wrist and another took ahold of your forearm. They yanked you back with so much ease, you swore you were floating. The blonde shoved you back and toward the stool behind you, smirking when you lost your balance and fell on the seat. He sent you a sickening grin, one that made your stomach churn in disgust.

“Please.” You whispered out. Laying your hands on the side of the stool, you gripped it tightly. “What do you want?”

The blonde shrugged lightly before looking around the length of the shop. “I heard,” He licked his lips slowly. “from a little bird, that Reggie Kray is sweet on you.” He pointed out. Moving around your body, he opened the glass case and pulled out a sweet. Lemon Sherbet. “Comes here to get his sherbets, hangs about for longer than necessary.” He moved so that he was stood in front of you. His eyes ran along your face slowly, examine you. “Pretty thing you are, why waste your time with a fucking Kray.”

“I’m not..” your voice shook. You swallowed thickly, attempting to sound braver than you actually were. “I’m not involved with Reggie, I just speak to him when he comes by.” Your gaze locked on to his, begging him to leave you alone. “Reggie Kray has loads of women to choose from.. why would he pick the shop-owner on the corner?” Attempting to reason with him was stupid. He didn’t care how well you and Reggie knee each other. All he cared about was the fact that Reggie did know you and he certainly liked you. All the women talked about was Reggie and his addiction for the lemon sherbets and the girl selling them.

He stepped forward and smoothly took hold of your cheeks. He pinched your flesh together, squishing the skin so that your mouth was forced to open. He shoved the sherbet past your lips before leaning in so his hot, alcohol-laced breath hit your mouth. “You and I, we’re gonna have some fun.. and then I want you to pass on a little message from me to good old Reggie.” You didn’t have a chance to speak before he wrapped his hand in the back of your hair and yanked you up from the seat. “Take want you want, boys!” He bellowed before leading you into the back. Only one other man followed alongside him, the other seven took it upon themselves to take whatever candy they liked. You couldn’t focus on anything apart from the sting in your scalp from his large fist, tugging so harshly at your strands. He didn’t let you go until, when he pushed you, you slammed into one of the tall shelves. The previously sturdy cabinet wobbled before topping over and, as if the remaining shelves were a line of dominoes, the rest of them fell. Your body hit the tile with an audible smack and a dull pain formed in your ribs from the impact. You winced openly, verbally groaning out before you tried your best to hurriedly sit up and prevent him from getting the upper hand.

The brunette was older than the blonde. He had wrinkles lining his cheeks and forehead. His skin looked flabby and worn, but his old appearance did nothing to affect his strong, fast movements. He gripped your wrist and pulled you up to your feet. You didn’t think he was anywhere near as dangerous as the bloke who’d just been speaking, but he wasn’t a good guy. He pinched the sleeve of your dress and pulled on it in an almost playful manner. It was mocking, suggestive, he did it again and again until tears brewed in your bright pools. He just wanted to scare you, he didn’t have sour intentions. He’d keep his hands to himself. The blonde man sauntered forward though, only pausing when the toes of his boots hit yours. He drew out a cigarette and placed the unlit stick in his mouth. “Tell Reggie, yeah, Charlie says hello.” He smiled slowly. “Simple, really. Isn’t it?” Your lips parted so you could agree verbally, but the smile morphed into a sneer. He lifted his arm and sent his fist flying into your face. A strand of your hair was tied around one of his knuckles, tickling him annoyingly. He pried the piece off of him and discarded it on the floor with your body which dropped directly after the hit.

The world around you was black and increasingly cold. You’d be on the floor for hours, you were sure of it. Business was slow. Bert was busy. You were on your own.

—

The sun was setting in the distance. Any person who was still out in the cold streets was either heading to a bar for a drink or heading home from work. It was time for dinner, time to get out of the cold and bury yourself in the warmth of your home. Reggie Kray walked along the street, one hand buried deep in his pocket while the other hovered a few inches away from his lips as he smoked his cigarette. His pink lips wrapped around the stick, puffs of visible air escaping his mouth when he exhaled. His eyes roamed the length of the establishments, studying each one he passed as he made his way to the club which would be experiencing rush hour soon.

Ron was already at the club. He was sat at a table in the corner, drowning himself in booze with the surrounding lads. He didn’t much care for rush hour, he didn’t tend to the customers, he just drank alongside them. Reggie was boss man around here and Ron would’ve complained more if he thought it would actually work in his favor.

Reggie glanced in the direction of your shop. The sign that hung on the outside was off, signaling that the place was closed for the night. His gaze lingered, scrutinizing the workplace momentarily before he looked toward the entrance. He was sure you were inside, still stocking shelves and sorting through the bags of sweets. Part of him wanted to go and say hello, ask you out since he hadn’t been able to ask earlier, but the other part of him, the shy side, told him to just leave you alone. He inhaled deeply, continuing on his way. His blue eyes moved away from the shop and instead to the space in front of him. A few feet away he could see the familiar red and white striped pants that belonged to none other than Bert. The top portion of the older man was invisible because of the mountain of boxes he carried, so Reggie moved forward at a quicker pace.

“Alright, mate? Need a hand?” He took the top two boxes off the stack without waiting for much of a response.

Bert was surprised, but grateful. “Oh, Reg. Thank you, my boy. It’s taken me all day to get these damn things to the shop..” He sighed before moving toward the sweet store. Reggie moved alongside him, understanding smile on his lips.

“Fucking handful if I’ve ever seen one.” Reggie chuckled. He took it upon himself to open the door and allow Bert to enter first and the second that the old man did, the boxes fell from his hands.

Shelves were toppled over, candy littered the floor. The glass case was shattered, shards embedded in the bowls of candy. The place was an absolute wreck and while that was very alarming, it was even more alarming that you were nowhere in sight.

Reggie’s eyes were just as wide as Bert’s and his thoughts were the exact same. He placed the boxes on an unsturdy looking table and let out a heavy exhale when the thing collapsed. Shaking his head, he moved forward, glass crunching beneath the heavy soles of his boots. “Y/N?” His voice filled the shop.

Bert moved off to the side to retrieve the pistol he had locked away inside a safe behind the jars on the wall. The jars were gone and the space was visible, but it was still locked. He put in the code in order to retrieve the weapon and Reggie wasted no time before venturing into the back.

“Y/N?” Reggie tried again. The mess was indescribable, impossible to actually distinguish what had been what and where it had sat. He was relatively calm — tense — as he looked for you, and the second he saw your foot, sticking out from one of the isles, he bellowed for Bert. “She’s here!”

Bert jumped, finger twitching in place on the revolver. He almost sent a bullet straight into the wall, but luckily he caught himself. He barreled down the hall and directly toward the room where Reggie’s voice had come from.

Reggie was knelt beside your hip, fingers gentle as they brushed along your throat, searching for your pulse. He frowned down at you when you made a very soft noise. “Y/N?” He whispered, fingers lifting to your jaw. “It’s Reggie.”

“And Bert.” The man added before taking his place by Reggie’s side. “Who did this?”

Reggie shook his head and looked to Bert. You could barely move, let alone answer questions. His hand moved to your bottom lip, bruised and busted. “Don’t worry, yeah, we’ve got you.”

Bert shifted slowly. “We need to get her somewhere else. I’ve got to get this place cleaned up and..” Reggie looked to Bert with a very brief nod.

“I’ve got her.” Reggie peered down at you as your head began to slowly move from side to side. You winced openly before letting out a grimace and moan of discomfort. Reggie slid his arm swiftly beneath your knees and as easily as he’d held the two boxes, he lifted you up and off of the floor. One of your arms dangled and the other bent in between your body and his. Your whimpers of pain made his teeth bare, but he tried to keep calm, collected. He needed to be here for you instead of hunting down whoever did this. “I’m taking her to the club.” Reggie stated quickly. He didn’t give Bert much time to answer before he began to move toward the exit, heart hammering and forehead creased with worry. You really hooked your arm around his shoulders to try and help so you weren’t just a deadweight, but it was really useless. Your body was weak, stiff, and drained from the hit and he didn’t blame you at all.

Bert escorted Reggie out before twisting the look and turning to tend to the mess. He knew you needed to be taken care of, but you were already in good hands. He needed to clean up the shop so sales could continue as quickly as possible. This was his only source of income so it wasn’t really a choice.

Reggie moved hurriedly down the street, narrowly avoiding slamming into people as he hurried toward the club. Lights would be on soon. People would be lined up outside the door. But he didn’t care about business — not tonight. Reggie side-stepped a puddle before muttering out apologies as he dipped in front of passerby’s. He wouldn’t be so worried if you’d wake up fully, but because you were merely making sounds, he wanted to get you to a seat so he could wake you completely.

Ron was at the bar, refilling his glass because the bottle at the table was empty now. His eyes seemed darker in the dimly lit room and his glasses didn’t help much in the matter. He inhaled deeply before lifting his glass to his lips. The alcohol barely made it to his mouth before the door in the corner slung open and his brother came rushing in with you in his arms.

“Reg!” Ron spoke up in surprise.

“Not now, Ron.” He blurted. Moving around the bar counter, he set you down on one of the stools. Burying you in darkness so that when the club did start to pick up you weren’t visible, he squatted down in front of your form.

“What the fuck’s happened to her?” He recognized you now.

“I’m trying to figure that out, ain’t I?” Reggie grumbled before moving his hands to your cheeks. He took ahold of them, tracing them slowly as he tried to shaky you to consciousness. “Come on, Y/N..”

Your droopy eyes fluttered in the slightest. Your head ached and your stomach churned. You felt sick. You felt stuck. The longer you sat there though, the more you woke up, and the more you woke up, the stronger the pain became. Wincing noisily, your hands lifted to your face, cupping your head and your mouth. “Ow..” You hissed before moving to stand. Nothing had registered. Not the Kray’s or the club or the fact that it was Reggie who’d found you. Not until you stood and he was quick to rise with you. His hands found your hips, steadying your wobbly form as you tried to tend to your wounds and comprehend the entire situation. “Mh.. Reggie?” You whispered breathily.

“Yeah, yeah, I got you. Let’s sit back down, hm?” He slowly guided you back down on to the chair. Ensuring you were alright, he placed his hand on top of your own and gave you a reassuring squeeze. “You’re alright, yeah?”

“Someone came for you.” You mumbled. Your hand viciously rubbed at your aching head. “Said hello.” You told him. Charlie meant nothing to you, but you were sure it meant something to him. “Charlie.. I think. They said you were sweet on me and..” You could see him, though your vision was a bit bleary. He clenched his jaw and shared a look with Ron.

Ron was already discarding his glass on the table and gathering his coat from the rack in the corner.

You bit your cheek softly before tipping your head back.

“Was it a blonde man? Yeah, yellow-haired fucker.” He stood. “Ron, get the lads, right.” He twisted around and made movement to leave the space from behind the bar. You stood rapidly.

“Reggie, Wait.” Everything around you darkened momentarily. Your hands fisted in the sleeve of his jacket as you gripped his arm and fell back toward the seat. He instantly helped you, brows drawing together in concern. “Please don’t go..”

The bloke shook his head before kneeling back down in front of you. “No, yeah, don’t worry, Ron’s gonna handle this.” He promised. His hands moved to your cheeks, brushing along them lazily. He wanted to apologize for what you’d had to go through. He knew the fuck’s that had done this and he knew how scared you must’ve been. He sighed breathily before leaning in and inspecting your lip. “Who did this,” His thumb brushed your lip. “to you? Specifically.”

“The blonde.” You whispered before looking toward the bar. “The other’s just...” Your head shook. You didn’t even know what they’d been doing. Stealing?

“Right.” He reached behind him and into the container of ice. Grabbing a few cubes, he wrapped them up in a rag before handing it to you. “Keep that on there to prevent swelling.” There was a momentary silence before you did as he said. You wanted to ask if what they’d said was true. Did Reggie Kray really feel something for you? Instead you just leaned in and pressed your lips against his cheek. Holding the rag of ice to the side, your mouth lingered in place on his face before you wrapped your arm around his shoulders. Holding him close to you, you shut your eyes and lost yourself in the embrace.

Reggie let you do as you pleased. His hand found the middle of your back, slowly brushing along the length of it before he looked toward Ron as he gathered the men and they all piled out. He closed his eyes to suppress his anger before he turned his head and pressed his lips against your ear. “Once a rival finds out a man’s weakness.. they’ll stop at nothing to destroy it.” He muttered. “I’m so sorry.”

Your hand brushed along the back of his neck. The movement was shaky, slow, careful as you held him close. “You didn’t do this to me.” He wanted to point out that technically he had since he liked you, but instead he pushed himself in even closer and let you hold him as tightly as you wanted. The ice would help your lip and he was sure a drink would distract you from your headache, but right now you seemed content, wrapped around him in this snug way, so he’d stay on his knees until you were the one to pull back.

———————————————————————

Tagged: @peakblogbecauseimweak @bsotstory @mollybegger-blog @morphoportis @ghost-of-student-sufferings @drippydownes2002 @ellar21 @sovereigngoth @willowick13 @xxxxxeroxxxxx @wheresthewatermelon @anrm1 @pansexualginger @marvelgirl7 @evilspretty-dead @heyitscam99 @wow-he-cute @haroldpain @justrepostandlove @sparklyreaderx @emerald-bijou @multireality @innerpaperexpertcloud @goodiesintheclosetlove @giftofdreams @ihclipse @meer0rauschen @inkedfandom @thatsamegirl @doct0rstrange @jakechillenhaal @shanty-lol @centerhabit @clevertheoristpainter @jamierdr @favouritereadings @badmaax @thephuonganh @wewillfindourwaythere @uhhhemilyrose @scarrasco1325 @matoki-darkpanda @bignastyfan-nz @97freaknik @hot-and-spiceyyy @azayamari @shane-isa-shame @chimthighz @azayamari

[unveilingthoughts]

End of SSR : Lesson for Life.

Dear reader,

I hope you are doing fine.

Yes, i know this is the new normal to say yeah ! I am fine.

But my friend, take a pause. Now ask your inner soul, are you really fine?

Now you must be blank or full of thoughts. Either way the answer is, I respect it. In this race of showing it all at its best, are we loosing ourselves?

I think yes ! We are.

It is fine if you feel like crying frequently. It is fine if you get mood swings more often. Sleepless nights, feeling Too emotional, too attached, too lonely, too broken, too happy, too scared, etc. , having all these going inside out is really fine.

What is not fine is you not talking about it, things suffocating you and you thinking that how the person will react on listening to it.

My friend, please go and share it with one of your close five friends. Just speak it up and say it out, Cry it out.

No one is gonna judge you.

Every human in this world is going through something, be it anything.

Some deal with it easily and some fails.

But what is the need to keep. It with yourself.

Sharing is one of the best self therapy you can do. And When it is difficult to reach out to your friend, what i suggest is write it down on a paper (all your feelings and thoughts ) and burn it, flush it or just destroy it. Let your loneliness, helplessness and fear vanish.

Trust me, sharing helps you a lot.

Along with sharing, a good listener play a vital role in this.

So if you are the one, who has got this opportunity to help someone dealing with any sort of depression, then kindly don't miss this opportunity to listen and show your support and saving things before getting worst and out of hand.

It can be related to Family, friends, career, job place, love life, domestic violence, tired of being too nice, society, money, failure, image.... .

Every reason is normal but is not to be taken for granted at all . Do Share it and get it solved before it turns into depression or some serious mental and emotional illness. Address your problem and note down the symptoms.

Some of the symptoms i know of depression are :

1. In Mood : sadness, anxiety, guilt, apathy, general discontent, hopelessness, sadness, loss of interest.

2. Behavioural Changes : agitation, irritability, restlessness, excessive crying, social isolation.

3. Sleep : early awakening, excess sleepliness, insomnia or restless sleep.

4. Excessive hunger, fatigue, lack of concentration, thoughts of suicide, poor appetite, repeatedly going over thoughts.

You must be thinking that am I that strong and Do I do the same when it comes to me !

So my dear, the answer is yes.

Honestly I am a reserved kind of person or u can say an selectively ambivert. I am talkative, fun loving and jolly

But there is a emotional side of me which I keep to myself. But when it is hurting and over bothering, i have my go to persons in life whom i call or text and let them know what's going on inside me. It is not necessary that you be frank to all the people around. It is fine to be introvert, but you must be open to 2 or 3 people in your life who won't judge you for who and how you are.

Well, i have stopped thinking what people will think of me.

Life is too short to keep things inside you and too precious to loose because of some unimportant issues troubling you.

My suggestion to all of you all reading this, Just go and tell your friends who matter to you in this life in any way that ' How much loves them, What you admire in them, What are the best things about them and why their existence is important !!.

Yes, You never know, May be your friend or close one was just in the wait of this.

As it is said, It is ok to be not ok.

Life is full of ups and downs. There will be hard times - fight, fight and fight. Do all what it takes to be normal again. But quitting is never an option.

Your existence matters. You are not alone, there are people for whom you are the reason to live. So, NEVER say DIE.

What it takes is just a Step, a hand moved forward and you are surely going to get it better. Let us pledge to not make fun, criticise and take for granted all our friends who are fighting with their innerself / depression and mental and emotional illness.

Mental Pain is less dramatic than physical pain, but it is more common and also more hard to bear. The frequent attempt to conceal mental pain increases the burden.

It is easier to say ''My tooth is aching'' Than to say ''My heart is Broken ''.

External wounds can be healed by proper medication, care and treatments but Internal wounds take love, support, understanding, no judging and positivity to get healed. So, just try, try and try.

But don't GIVE UP. 🙏💫

[carbonated-chicken-broth]

Happy Valentine’s Day || Gabriel x Reader

Gabe is my favorite l'il angel and I had to write about him because I can see him as one of those “boyfriends” that goes all out on Valentine’s Day with one of those massive Teddy Bears and a fuck-ton of chocolate.

Type: Fluff (I know, I know, but I'm in a cutesy mood so suck it horn dogs!)

Reader Gender: Female 

Warnings: Kissing...? Also Gabriel in general, so innuendos and all that jazz. Oh, and language. And cliché.

Word Count: 2,000+

    "I think I'm gonna clock out!" you called over your shoulder to Sam, who was set up in his usual spot at the long wooden table in the dining/research room, immersed in whatever was on the screen.

    He hummed in response, taking his eyes off his laptop for a moment to direct his steely gaze at you through those wise-looking eyes of his. "Not gonna go...um...wipe some broken hearts off the bar floor?" he teased, quirking one eyebrow as his scruff-lined lips twisted into a smile.

    You chuckled sleepily and shook your head, noting how your joints cracked and realigned at even the smallest movement. "I'll pass. Dean can get enough work done out there for the both of us. Besides," you added as an afterthought, "I'm tired as hell."

    "I hear you," Sam responded quietly, sinking back into his work.

    You sighed heavily and plodded down the semi-elegant hallway to your room, stretching your arms over your head as you went and letting out a satisfied groan when something popped. All you wanted was a nice, warm shower, and maybe some peace and quiet. Maybe even a beer and a movie if you got bored. Yeah, some BAB sounded great right about then. It was Valentine’s Day, after all. Great day for porn.

   With that thought in mind, you swung open the large, mahogany door with the intent of flopping uninterrupted onto your bed when-

    "And how's the cutest little human in the world?"

    "Gabriel! Get out of my room!"

    There he was, the peskiest of the four archangels, sprawled out on your covers with a wide grin etched across his handsome face.

    "How about no?" he snickered, sitting up and smirking. "Besides, it's Valentine's Day!" he added enthusiastically, opening his arms as if to augment his stating of the obvious. "What kinda boyfriend would I be if I didn't stop in on my favorite human to give 'em a proper date?"

    You groaned and pinched the bridge of your nose, irritated beyond belief and sensing the stirrings of a migraine. "You're not my boyfriend, Gabriel. And I'm really not in the mood to deal with your shit right now. I just wanna take a shower and lie down and maybe get some shut-eye before Dean comes back with someone and makes sleep impossible."

    Raising one eyebrow, the smirking archangel sat forward, his whiskey eyes gazing straight into yours with an air of smug unpredictability that had the reverse affect on his counter. "Mind if I join you?"

    "Fuck off, Feathers."

    "Rude," he pouted, cuing yet another eye-roll.

    "What do you want, Gabriel?" you asked sharply, crossing your arms and lifting your chin in an attempt to convey a semblance of confidence, even though his presence made your insides squirm like worms on LSD.

    "You, naked, covered in rose petals,” he chuckled, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively in a way that never failed to make your heart do a little dance (often a frantic sort of “OH SHIT THOSE ARE SOME SEXY EYEBROWS” jig).

    You felt heat creep up your neck and gritted your teeth, balling your hands into fists. "Gabriel, I swear if you’re-"

    "It's just a joke, Sweetcheeks!" he exclaimed, holding his hands up in surrender, before muttering, "I'd prefer syrup, anyway. Sweeter."

    "Gabe..."

    "Fine," he sighed, his smirk softening to a smile, "I'm here to help you loosen up a bit. You look tense."

    "Yeah, I wonder why!"

    "Aw, c'mon," he whined, scooting to the edge of your bed and pouting up at you. "All I wanna do is cuddle! I won't bother you for the rest of February if you say yes." At least he was asking for consent. How generous.

   "You're bribing me now?" you snorted, trying to sound casually annoyed to hide how flattered you were by him. He always did that to you; he twisted you into confused knots until you didn't know how to feel. 

    It wasn’t as if being with him would be a huge issue. Dean wouldn’t like it – he hated Gabriel, even more so after the T.V. land escapade – but after a while, he’d adjust. Sam wouldn’t be so vocal about his distaste, probably even supportive. He was already third wheeling one frustrating couple. What could be the harm in adding another?

   No, the problem was with you. You didn’t want to tie yourself down to an archangel if it only meant a quick (though undoubtedly amazing) fuck and decades of heartbreak. He was so wild, you doubted he’d be up for a long-term relationship, and you weren’t sure you could handle a one-night-stand, as tempting as that option was.

    Gabriel’s eyes twinkled, intrigue written across his face. He had an air of smugness that tended to linger around him but seemed unfounded at that moment. Quickly (and suspiciously), he cut off your thoughts: "Is it working?"

    "Nope," you lied, walking over to your dresser to give yourself something to do other than stand awkwardly and in a state of slowly depleting gobsmackery in the doorway. If you were going to have to deal with Gabriel, you would definitely be dealing with him in comfy clothes.

    "Why are you making me work so harrrrrrd?" the ever-childish archangel whined, tilting his head and watching you open one of the mahogany drawers and rummage around.

    Sifting through your clothes, you groaned again, pulling out one of Sam's giant flannels (red-checked and soft) you’d stolen a while back. Winchester clothing was just more comfortable; even their boxers. You were tentative about wearing men’s underwear in front of the perverted archangel stationed on your bed but you know what they say: fuck it.

    "Because giving you what you want is like feeding the animals," you said distractedly, moving to your bathroom door (you had one separate from the boys’ because they took long showers and sometimes menstruation couldn’t wait an hour) and calling over your shoulder, "We cuddle once and then you never leave me alone!"

   You could feel his eyes drilling into you as you slipped inside, carefully locking the door behind you even though his bothering to use it would only be out of courtesy and therefore very unlikely. You waited for a few seconds in case Gabriel was planning on breaking in, before pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it on the sink.

    Lo’ and behold, there came the flutter of wings from directly behind you, the cool breeze from invisible wings tickling your nearly bare back. "But I just wanna cu- wow you are...wow."

    You blushed heavily and spun around, ready to give him a piece of your mind, only to realize that he could see straight down your bra. With a yelp, you grabbed the first thing you saw – a towel hanging on the door behind him – and held it against your practically naked torso. "Gabriel, what the hell!?"

    "I just wanted to keep talking to you," he whined, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief and other emotions that you could recognize but didn't want to name.

    "So you came into the bathroom with me?!"

    "What's wrong with that?"

    "You're joking," you told him flatly, agitated, "You see nothing wrong with this? I'm half fucking naked, Gabriel!"

    "I noticed," the archangel smirked, wiggling his eyebrows again. "You're hotter than I imagined."

    "Than you imagined?" you snapped, your face flushing, "The hell is that supposed to mean?!" Oh God, did he…holy fuck, did he get off thinking about you? Christ, you couldn’t win with him!

    "Oh, you know what it means, Sugar~" Gabriel purred, taking a few steps forward so that his chest brushed against your forearms which pinned the towel to your quivering body.

    You blushed furiously, your eyes widening as you gazed breathlessly up at him. A strangled moan clawed its way out of your throat and past your clamped lips. After a beat, you finally found your voice, or some of it. "Shut up, Asshat!" you growled, wrinkling your nose and taking a step back.

    "Make me~"

    "Okay!" you snapped, stepping around him, "I get that it's Valentine's Day but I’m really not in the mood!"

    Gabriel sighed, gazing after you as you opened the door and slipped out, pulling the giant, tunic-like flannel over your scatterbrained head to hide your torso. ‘Sexy fucking angel,’ you thought, remembering vividly the way he could morph from innocent puppy-dog to I'm-gonna-fuck-you-'til-you-can't-walk in under a second. ‘What gives him the right.’

    "I just wanna help you relax," he whined (a tone he’d been taking quite a lot lately), watching you flop down on your bed and moving to sit on the end.

    "Leave me alone," you commanded, burying your face in the pillow and shutting your eyes right. You felt the bed creak next to you and you turned your head, coming eye to whiskey eye with the pesky archangel.

    "No."

    You groaned, turning your face to hide a blush as your heart fluttered from the proximity of his body to yours. Finally, you got up the courage to say it. "Fine."

    A grin spread across Gabriel's face. "What made you change your mind all of the sudden?" he asked innocently, the smirk on his face audible to your reddening ears.

    "Shut up."

    "Aww," he chuckled, his arm snaking around your waist as he pulled you against his chest, "Have I ever told you how cute you are when you're pissed off?"

    You gritted your teeth and rolled your eyes, your mind on hyper-alert as he pressed closer, breath dancing over your neck. "Every damn time you see me," you snapped agitatedly. It was true, you had a tendency to get riled up when he was around, for obvious reasons. He seemed to find it amusing, which did nothing to help your flustered state.

    "You really are adorable," he said, sounding almost genuine.

   You blushed and shook your head, glaring at him over your shoulder as your heart did backflips. "I am not, Gabriel!" It sounded so childish you had to fight to keep from cringing.

    "Don't deny it," Gabriel chuckled, poking you nose. "See? You're like a kitten dumped in ice water. I just wanna hug you and kiss every inch of your skin and listen to your voice say my name over and over and over again..." He sighed, taking in a breath and pulling back a bit, gazing adoringly at you.

    Your face felt like it was on fire from all the heat rushing through it, and your eyes were wide as saucers.

    "I-I...uhm...I mean that's-wow..."

    The archangel's eyes twinkled mischievously, and he leaned in to press his forehead against yours, whispering, "Plus, you're adorable when you're flustered."

    You swore you thought your heart stopped for a second. It skipped a beat or two — or five — at his words.

    He chewed his lip, waiting for a response of some sort, of which you seemed incapable. You gazed at him like a tourist at the Statue of Liberty, your eyes wide and your lips parted as thoughts rushed through your mind like hot pockets through someone's dietary tract.

    His stare was what caught you; his deep golden-brown eyes simultaneously grounded you in reality and sent you off on tangents of mental fantasy.

    "So, are you gonna kiss me or not?"

    Gabe's mouth dropped open; it was his turn to look dumbfounded. "What, (Y/N)?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.

    You rolled your eyes. "You wore me down, okay? You win. Now do me a favor and finish what you started!"

    A smile spread across his handsome features as he lifted himself up on one arm and cupped your face with his hand. Gently, he drew your lips up to his. Your lips met and instantly you felt right, somehow. Complete. You could feel heat radiating off of him, like somewhere inside him was a burning fire; his grace. Softly, his lips moved against yours as his fingers dragging up to card through your hair. A small gasp rose in your throat. It was magical, caring, even loving.

    You stayed there, frozen in his arms, for a few minutes before realizing that sometime soon, you’d need to breathe. Pulling back, you gasped, your chest heaving against his. "Oh, I forgot," he chuckled.

    "What?" you asked incredulously, breathless, "To breathe?"

    "Maybe..."

    "Christ, Gabe," you groaned, glaring at him with amusement dancing in your features. "How have you survived this long?"

    Gabriel shrugged, grinning sheepishly. You knew that he was set on you being the adorable one, but the way he smiled was pretty damn cute. His eyes crinkled slightly, shining like pools of liquid gold. It struck you how just last year the pair of you had been enemies, and now there you were, lying in bed with him. The bed you had just kissed in.

    "You're hopeless," you sighed, resting your head back on the pillow.

    He tilted his head, propping himself up to glare jokingly down at you. "Ouch. Harsh."

    "But accurate, Mr. Century-Old-Archangel."

    ‘Mr. Century-Old-Archangel’ chuckled, pulling you closer with one arm and brushing a few wayward strands of hair out of your face. "Cutie."

    "I'm not cute!"

    "Whatever you say, Sugar. Happy Valentine’s Day."

    "You too, Gabe."

----------------------------------------------

Yeah, yeah, it’s super cliché. It’s Valentine’s Day. Deal. Have a swell day/afternoon/evening/night/whatever else! Happy Valentine’s Day!

~Ev

[difficultplaces]

QUESTIONS FOR FAWKES 

The Yowler Skulker and earth lover talks trash, togetherness, and remaining open to future injury

I’m ready to interview you. Marvelous.

Did you know you’re in a band? I didn’t. But it doesn’t surprise me, frankly.

It’s called SIDP. Oh my God! I love it, that’s so good.

What other bands are you in? I was in a band. I still am. Called “Jonathan” because my college roommate and I were like we should have a band and he said what’s a good name and I said Jonathan’s a good name so we named the band Jonathan.

What is your role in Sheep? I wouldn’t dignify what I do by calling it singing because I feel like thats an insult to singers everywhere. What I do is produce mouth sounds. A sort of yowl, like an indigent cat.

Who are your musical influences? Honestly, it’s whoever I’ve been listening to recently—I wanna write a song like that. 

Do you have any advice for up and coming bands? If you’re producing something that is that intimate it needs to be authentic. It needs to come from the heart, it needs to be something that you very desperately want to share with the world. And after you’ve played a song several hundred times for other people maybe that changes how you feel about it but at the very least in the beginning you need to have that, you need to feel like its clawing its way out of you that if you don’t make this music then you’ll just explode. 

Who do you influence? I like to think I have a really profound influence on my garbage collector because they see the various instruments in various states of repair and destruction and they have to think something really terrible is happening here but the reality is that I am bad at buying used instruments on the internet. 

Where were you born? Somewhere further south of here. 

If that place could speak, what would it say? “THERE’S TOO MANY PEOPLE. OH, GOD, WHY. NO. SOME OF YOU NEED TO LEAVE. THIS IS OUTRAGEOUS. STOP PUTTING THINGS IN THE GROUND.”

What makes you angry? The universal idea of man’s inhumanity to man. The futility of so many political or ethical discussions that just end with me shouting “I can’t make you care about other people. Why do you not care about other people?” Another thing that makes me very upset—and this may be surprising because of my previous answer—is hopelessness. I think that there is always far more hope than is readily apparent or, rather, than people want to see because hope is an invitation for future injury. At least, that’s how a lot of people see it. I think that hope is also a responsibility because it spurs action and it is genuinely and deeply felt. Everyone does this to some extent, people would choose to not hope for a better world because if they did they would have to acknowledge that maybe they would not be able to continue doing things as they are doing them. So hopelessness is very frustrating to me.

What makes you happy? Walking through Oakland when it’s sunny. And people who are out doing yard work or talking in front of a convenience store or children are being loud and irritating. It’s funny, I—for a long time—whenever I heard kids running around screaming I would get agitated because yeah it’s grating but I’ve tried to like it through cognitive training and also adding in the response of thinking “Ah, the children are playing and that means things are okay right now.”  I think I am happiest in the moments where I am able to be very present and look around and think about just how pleasant it is to be where I am doing what I’m doing and just be grateful and happy that I am in this moment in this place in the universe.

What’s yer day job? I spend a lot of time typing at a computer and even more time reading things at a computer and in the course of reading and typing things I try to make the world just a little safer. The specifics of it are wonky and unnecessary. 

What do you do at night? Usually I waste time in front of a computer but tonight I am out walking through Rockridge and up into the hills. It’s something I started doing late last year—going for walks or running at night there’s something very soothing and peaceful about the city sleeping and the suburbs sleeping.

What would you say your responsibilities are? All of the things you experience that are not joy prepare you to take pleasure in what comes next. You need to take pleasure in what you do because even the things you experience that are not strictly pleasurable are preparing you to experience pleasure. They’re giving contrast for pleasure to have meaning. If you live at a certain altitude, that’s just where the ground is. You don’t have to think about the fact that other people live at different altitudes. It just doesn’t mean anything to you. But if you go up or down you notice it. It’s the same thing with emotions. We are programmed such that we only understand things through contrast. It’s only the differences that have any meaning. That’s how we read the world. Through what is and what isn’t. 

What’s the last thing you fixed? I was cleaning the kitchen and we have a glass vase that holds cooking utensils and I was washing it in the sink and I dropped it and it cracked. It didn’t break. And I applied a bunch of tape around it. Around the inside and the outside so if it broke it wouldn’t go anywhere. So it’s not exactly a fix. It’s a kind of a fix. It’s safer to use now.

What’s the last thing you broke? We don’t fix all the things that we break do we? We never do. I don’t think we do. Let’s just go with the glass vase because it will take me too long to think of something else but if anything jumps out I’ll howl. [Can you bahh instead to be on theme?] Well, a howl could work too. It could be a wolf in sheep clothing. “How did I get to this difficult place? I’ll never tell. Come closer, farmhand. Rescue me from this place.”

Know any secrets about walking at night that you are willing to share? Yes. [silence]. That was my answer.

What have you learned about life while walking at night? It’s very easy to convince yourself to be afraid of things. But it’s very hard to convince yourself not to be afraid of things. I guess one of the things I enjoy about walking at night is that it presents many opportunities to test myself in that way. Forcing me to continue on even though I may be afraid. Because there’s a quote maybe from a Disney movie, “How can you be brave when you’re scared? Well, that’s the only time you can be brave.” It’s true, bravery is only something that occurs in opposition to fear. I also learned that one of the things that makes me happy and fills me with joy that warms me and makes me feel connected to humanity is walking by houses and seeing all of the lights on inside and seeing people sitting together watching tv or around tables eating or playing cards or talking. Little snapshot vignettes into people’s lives. There’s something very powerful about the notion of home and hearth. Of family. Of togetherness. Of making these structures to protect us from the elements and curling up together and just being happy little organisms that can love each other and experience the joy of kinship. It can be hard during the day—the day is the time for working. But night we think of as a time for resting. And it’s also nice to remember everyone has a scene like that. I see all of these people and they’re just little automatons to me because I don’t know them but we are all that to each other. I feel a sense of empathy: any of these people could walk by my house and see me doing the same things. There’s this shared humanity in that. 

What have you forgotten? I usually know where I am. I tend to forget what time it is. I tend to do that everywhere but especially when I’m walking around at night.

If you wrote a children’s book, what would it be called? Probably something like “Everywhere Is The Environment” because I get so angry when people say “I don’t care about the environment.” I was on a date and someone said that—so where the fuck do you live? The vacuum of space? That is the place we are in. This is all environment.

If you could say one last thing to an enemy without fear of retribution, what would you say? All of my enemies are in a gym, a cafeteria thing, all the bleachers are pulled out. I’m standing on a platform we brought in which I am now regretting because it’s not a stage, it actually only enhances the fact that I’m well below them and their risers. So, I have a little microphone and, uh, soundcheck is difficult because it never goes the way you think it will and because it’s the 70s, no one thought I would be standing here. Infrastructure, what the fuck. I glare at Mitch McConnell, I wish evil things. “I’ll never tell where the antidote is—“ No, I’m kidding. The real answer, the main answer, is for all my delaying, I honestly don’t think I’d have anything to say to them because anything I could say would make me feel good in the moment and very small later. I couldn’t bring myself to say “I forgive you” or “We’re good.” I would probably look at at the sea of scowling faces and just kind of “Eh,” and wave my hand dismissively. I’ve got nothing here.

INTERVIEW CONDUCTED, CONDENSED, AND EDITED BY BLEATR

[manyothermusingsofmine]

Loyalty || Drabble

Listen I’ve been trying to write this fucking thing for like a month I’m just done with it now on every conceivable level of the term. Shout out to this songtrack for finally helping me finish this thing Summary: Things get a little more feels-y when Reid and Cleo have to subdue an unsub on Cleo’s hometurf of Connecticut.

Warnings: Gun violence, bruising mention, discussions about the aftermath of losing a love one, death

“There is nothing I would not do for those who are really my friends. I have no notion of loving people by halves, it is not my nature.”

― Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey

 “Are these movies ever going to explain why these people only seem interested in murder on the night of the purge?”

Rolling her eyes at another scene in the movie, Cleo popped some popcorn into her mouth and settled back into the couch. She turned to look at Reid, who seemed equally confused at the movie. Truth be told; she was happy that she convinced him to have a movie night with her, even if most of the night was spend critiquing the movies for their decisions.

“I find it hard to believe that having a Purge somehow ensures that people reign themselves in for the rest of the year. They don’t take spree killers or escalation into mind; that just doesn’t go away because these people get a wild card once a year.”

“I’d go for the “get out of jail free” card but I suppose you play poker more than you do monopoly.”

Spencer couldn’t help but chuckle at that, shaking his head as he turned back to the movie. It felt good to be out of his own home but not necessarily dragged away to some public location; he was grateful Cleo seemed to understand that better than anyone else. Probably because she was just as introverted as him.

“I mean really; no theft, no looting, no fraud… it’s like the entire white collar division of the FBI is obsolete in this world. Nor are these murderers as diverse as they are in our job so I guess in this world the BAU could do their job with like, two people at most?”

“Considering crime is at an all-time low throughout the rest of the year these people don’t even really have a need for a lot of first aid responders. Just a couple for accidental injuries and the like.”

They commented on a few other scenes, joking and laughing among themselves before the movie ended and Cleo went to pop in another movie in the dvd player. She sat back down on the couch as Reid was staring at a wall, thinking to himself.

How much time?

Recalling the conversations he had had with both Hotch and Rossi, Spencer let out a sigh. Neither of them had really given him a satisfying answer, and he turned to look at Cleo who was messing with some settings of both the dvd and the tv.

Was it weird that she was really the only one he had let in throughout the whole ordeal? Logically he would’ve turned to JJ or Morgan, but nothing about the situation was logical. It was all raw emotion; and he had never been good at dealing with that. Cleo on the other hand had had her fair share of it. Was that why she seemed to be the exception to the rule?

“Cleo? When did the death of your uncle stop hurting?”

Silence brewed between them as Cleo thought about how she could best explain the situation, moving back to the couch as she did. Death and grief would always be a difficult subject, and Cleo more often than not didn’t like to bring up her uncle’s death. But then again, Spencer was looking for her advice, wasn’t he?

“It didn’t. Memories like these don’t just stop hurting, Spencer. I wish I could give you some definitive timeline of when things faded and became more… tolerable, I guess, but it never really goes away. I don’t really know when it became more bearable to be without him; I still miss my uncle. His death definitely left its scars, but it’s the missing that hurts the most. It’s almost like a bad, permanent bruise. Something hurt you enough to leave a mark; it doesn’t hurt all of the time, but then you move wrong, press or brush against it and it hurts again.” “So losing Maeve is always going to hurt?”

“I’m afraid so. To some degree.”

They sat there silently, with Spencer looking back at the wall and Cleo studying her nails; the movie long forgotten and unimportant as it only functioned as background noise. Yet in this silence they almost seemed to agree on something, something unspoken but very real. Being in law enforcement, FBI no less… Both of them had seen enough to fill horror movies and educational books. Each and every one they considered colleagues could, too.

“I…. I don’t know about you, but it’s part of the reason I wanted to be in law enforcement. Not with the idea to take away pain, we… we generally arrive too late for that. The pain has already been inflicted when we get called in,” Cleo said softly, breaking the silence.

“But… I always wanted to have that pain not be worthless, or unsolved. Justice doesn’t bring people back, and I don’t know how much it truly helps those who have lost someone in such violence. To me, Justice is about having that pain acknowledged. It’s having other people look in and say; this shouldn’t have happened, but it did, so we’re punishing the one responsible.

It doesn’t.. fix anything. When a mirror breaks, you can put the pieces back together and forever be reminded of the cracks, or replace it. Things break, and they can be replaced. People can’t be replaced, so the only option is-“

“To be reminded of the cracks.”

Spencer turned to Cleo, giving her a careful and unconvincing smile as he did. She returned it, much in the same gesture, before they both turned to the tv screen.  

It was then that Cleo’s phone signaled that she had a text, not long after that Spencer’s phone announced the same. They both reached over the couch to grab it, quickly coming to the same conclusion.

“New case.” “Yup. Guess we have to catch people who would like the Purge to be an actual thing.”

Sometime later they arrived to the FBI building, calmly taking their place in the bulletin room where Garcia immediately explained what was going on.

Apparently six people had been found dead in Middletown, Connecticut; half of them gunned down while the other half was beaten to death. The victims were found in couples together spread throughout the city, and Garcia definitely didn’t want to look at the pictures as she made eye contact with Cleo. “Say, aren’t you from there?” “No, I’m not. I’m from Meriden,” Cleo said casually, frowning at the casefile on her iPad as she did. Rossi saw a perfect opportunity in this and took it;

“Well then, let’s bring the Nutmegger back to her natural habitat.” “Don’t make me fight you with an I heart NY shirt, because I will.”

 Once again they were reminded that there was no such thing as an easy case. Instead, Reid and Dewitt found themselves in a Mexican standoff with the unsub later in the investigation. Both of them had their gun pointed to this man, both trying to figure out a way to defuse the situation they had on their hand as the unsub was making wild allegations at the both of them.

“And how dare you betray your state and run off to Virginia, huh, miss perfect?!” the unsub roared at Cleo, only having gotten more agitated when he found out she would be on the case as well. They knew each other, vaguely, after having been to the same school but in different grades.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t get the memo where I should have been at your feet for doing the bare minimum,” Cleo casually remarked, moving closer to somehow try and distract the unsub from Reid; which he seemed to notice.

“Why the Las Vegas boy? What does he have that I don’t, aside from a gambling addiction?! I’m sick of girls like you protecting guys like him-“ “And I’m sick of guys like you shooting girls like me in the chest because our taste dares to be different from “explosive alpha male on steroids”!” Cleo barked back, getting fed up with the situation.

“I don’t owe you my life, my career, and I’m not going to back away from someone you decided to google and make the most basic assumptions on just because you want me to pick a man from my home state; Oh but not just any man, you, right? My preferences be damned on that!”

“Listen, this has to end now,” Reid chimed in, knowing fully well that Cleo was getting irritated.

“We’ve got the building surrounded, there is no way you can go. If you come with us quietly, however, the world will know what a hero you are. How undefeated you are, isn’t that what you want?”

Tension hung in the air as the unsub looked from one FBI agent to the other, before finally settling on Reid.

“Not from the likes of you, desert snake.”

Two shots rang out through the sky, alerting the troops outside to come rushing the door with Morgan in the lead; especially after Reid called for medical back up. He found them both sitting on the floor, the dead body of the unsub some feet away from the both of them.

He could only conclude that Reid had shot the unsub after Cleo blocked the path between the two and took a hit from the unsub’s gun into the protective padding of the bullet proof vest.

 Cleo sighed softly, overlooking the familiar landscape of her home state as she quietly sipped her tea, wincing a little as the bruise she gained from the whole thing chafed. So much for “bullet proof” vests, it much more felt like she’d taken the hit of a baseball bat to her ribcage.

She could hear someone approach, the door to the police station shutting and footsteps coming closer.

“You know, aside from getting shot, I don’t really understand why you didn’t want to come back here.” Spencer’s voice was as soft and gentle as it usually was, while he took a place beside his friend as he drank some of his coffee.

“The people are nice, the view is amazing…”

“I know,” Cleo agreed softly, her gaze seemingly a million miles away over the plains of the city.

“But I had to go. I wanted to be an FBI agent, and my uncle moved mountains to make that happen. After losing him, I couldn’t find the comfort I once did in my home state.”

She took another sip of her tea before pushing her hair behind her ear, needing a moment to gather her thoughts.

“I found family within the BAU, Reid. Connecticut is beautiful in its own right, and I’ll never deny the roots of my life that lay here. But I lost my mother when I was very young, I’ve never known my father, and when my uncle died…. There’s nothing left for me here, family wise.”

Spencer just looked on as Cleo finished her drink, momentarily debating whether or not he should give her physical comfort, but he decided against it as she tossed the empty, plastic cup into a nearby trashcan.

“I’ve been told Connecticut is beautiful in fall.” “It is.” “Will you show it to me, someday? I’ll give you Vegas in spring in return.”

She looked at him, a smile on her lips as she nodded in quiet agreement. In a second it dawned upon her; this being the perfect time and moment. The perfect opportunity. “Spencer… I-“ she stopped herself as she saw JJ approaching, quickly turning her gaze away as she fiddled with her hair.

“Just wanted to let you two know that we’re leaving in thirty minutes,” JJ announced, seemingly unaware to anything she may have interrupted as she was honestly just send to remind everybody of the time they had left to pack everything up and go home. She left her coworkers when they both nodded in understanding, waiting for her to go back inside.

“What did you want to say before we were interrupted?” “…. I look forward to having you as a tour guide through Vegas,” Cleo decided, internally kicking herself for not fessing up right there and then.

“Of all the liars in the world, sometimes the worst are our own fears.”

― Rudyard Kipling, The Collected Works

[birbleafs]

fic snippets

Sorry I haven’t been posting much on this account. There’s been a lot going on IRL, so I’ve been a bit preoccupied overall. Thank you to those of you who are still sticking around though! Before I wrote fic for Zestiria, I’ve only had a handful of followers and now there’s more of you (if I don’t count the bots...lol). It’s both a bit unnerving and nice (?!) since I’m not used to having this many followers for my writing...

AnYWAY, I’m slowly working on a few stories and hope to finish up at least one fic in the weeks to come sorry my writing rhythm is really inconsistent adksjkhjf

Till then, here are a few (unedited) snippets, if you’re interested. Putting under a cut for length:

Dezel, Sorey+Rose brotp, CATS (canon) He shouldn’t have been surprised, honestly. Incidents like these – they were a norm and really, he should be used to them by now. Being part the Shepherd’s posse seemed to bring about both irritability and absurdity in equal parts – he was aware of this even before Rose had decided on sharing the burden and took on the role of a Squire; before she had risked her own life to save the Shepherd brat from certain death because he had been foolish enough to face off with the Lord of Calamity.

Still, nothing quite prepared him for this; he was more of a dog person, after all.

“But why cats, though?” Rose finally blurted out, incredulous. Hell, Dezel wanted to know too – who would come up with such a sick joke anyway?

“I’m not a cat!”

The small silver creature standing in the grass was scowling up at them with narrowed, violet eyes. His mouth was open, as if he were attempting to speak. But the only sound he managed was a very indignant and cat-like meow (it was more a kittenish mewl, really, Dezel thought).

“W-What?” The silver kitten crinkled his nose, tail waving back and forth in confusion. He glanced over his shoulder, gazing at a second cat – a female with a silky white coat and a long, red-striped tail. “Why can’t I… Lailah, what’s going on?”

“Huh,” Sorey said from where he was crouched low to the ground. There was a contemplative look about him as he swept his gaze from the silver kitten to the white cat. Skulking beside his right knee was a smaller, calico-patched kitten with sky-blue eyes and a foul temper, her short tail fluffed up.  And draped casually over the kid’s shoulder was yet another cat – a sleek, muscular tom, grey-striped and wearing a languid amber stare. Sorey watched the cats surrounding him for a bit longer, before he reached out tentatively to let the silver kitten sniff his fingers.

“Well, at least she didn’t turn you all into frogs,” Sorey added unhelpfully. “Ow–!” He yelped when the silver kitten nipped a finger.

“This isn’t funny, Sorey!” the kitten said, ears twitching irritably.

Before the Shepherd could reply, the grey tom leapt down from his perch to the grass below, splaying his claws as he stretched his long limbs out easily.

“Better a cat than a frog, eh, Mikster? Though I suppose it might have been easier if we had been turned  into frogs – a kiss from the handsome Shepherd himself or a pure maiden should do the trick.” The grey tom glanced up at Rose, a mischievous gleam in his eyes now. “No harm trying it out with cats too, right? How about it, Rose? We all know Sheps here has already reserved his for Mikleo, but I’m sure the rest of us can make do with a kiss from a fine lady such as yourself.”

“Er,” Sorey began hesitantly at the same time the calico kitten growled softly in her throat. Bunching up her paws beneath her, she sprang forward and aimed a swift paw-jab to the grey tom’s face that had him yowling in surprise and backing away.

“As lewd as ever even in this form,” the calico hissed as she swished her bottle-brush tail in contempt. “Just because you’re a fuzzball now doesn’t mean you’re allowed to be gross, Grossveid.”

Rose rubbed at her nape, still confused, as she stared at the gathering of cats. “How are these cats even talking to us? It’s like I’m hearing their voices in my head and that’s creepy. Just like how... whoa, hold on a sec–” She stiffened, eyes widening as she finally caught on. “Is this kitten... Edna?” She flicked her gaze back at the grey tom, who beamed and twitched his whiskers proudly at her. “And Zaveid?!”

Dezel was already internally groaning at Rose’s slow uptake. But Sorey, ever the sunshine of their dysfunctional little band, only let out a chuckle.

“So you can hear them too, huh? This one here is Mikleo!” He reached for the silver kitten who was still puffed up in annoyance, holding up his now fluffy best friend for Rose to take a better look. “Doesn’t he look like the cutest bundle of fur now?” “Ugh, Sorey!” Mikleo the kitten groaned, struggling to bat Sorey over the nose with a paw. This time, it was Rose’s turn to laugh. “More like an overpriced fur stole, really.” “R-Rose?!” Before the two could continue with their good-natured teasing, the white cat with the red tail purred, clearly amused. She bounded up to balance herself easily on Sorey’s right shoulder, gazing over at Rose and Dezel with bright eyes.

“And I take it this one here must be Lailah then,” Rose said.

“That is correct,” the Prime Lord (Prime…Cat?) nodded. “It seems that what we’ve heard from the villagers aren’t mere rumours, after all. With her level of resonance and her apparent skill in transmutation artes, perhaps this woman really is a witch.” “Great,” Dezel muttered under his breath. “That just means more work cut out for us.”

Symmone character study, Camlann illusions (canon) “Why do you still keep smiling, even when I tear open your wounds?” she spat, vehemence laced in every word.  

(Many moons later, she would find herself asking the same question, to yet another who smiled just like he did even through the anguish and pain.

How could they…. How dare they? It didn’t make any sense, it couldn’t–)

Her brows creased in anger, Symonne forced herself back up to her feet even as her limbs ached and trembled from the growing exhaustion of battle. Being delicate in stature had its drawbacks; she would tire easily from direct combat in a battle. As such, she had perfected the use of her seraphic artes, weaving illusions and doppelgangers born from one’s own deepest fear. She had not asked for this accursed blessing, never wished for any of it. But it was all she’d ever known, all she’d carried within her throughout centuries of misery and growing apathy. It was she was but it was enough for this, for her Lord – she reminded herself, again, as she struggled to stand upright, pointing her baton at the two humans before her. It was enough that she could serve him, her Master. She won’t stop here; no, she couldn’t stop, she must not fall–

“That’s enough, Symonne.”

The Shepherd’s voice was soft and gentle, and Symonne felt frustration flaring from deep within. She lifted her head, staring up at the disgustingly radiant smile, at the pity in those evergreen eyes.

“Why do you still keep fighting back? How can you smile like it doesn’t hurt?!” she cried, hurling all of her anger and confusion outward, streaks of magic dancing in violent crackles around them. She wants to strike them down, wants to wipe that infuriating smile off his face and gouge the kindness in those eyes.

“Symonne.”

She froze, her muscles tensing in agitation when she sensed the Shepherd’s approach. But he only knelt before her slowly, his countenance soft and heavy with sadness. Standing close by, the Shepherd’s water seraph wore a similar expression of pity even as he kept his staff pointed at her. The Squire herself remained on guard however, her gaze as sharp as the blades she held poised.

“Why do you keep fighting?” Symonne tried again, her eyes burning with tears now. “When all there is at the end is inevitable doom? Is it so bad to want to just let go?” She raised her baton once more, threading wisps of magic through the thick violet miasma around them, even though she was already worn from their earlier battle and now from the crushing weight of Heldalf’s domain bearing down upon her. The illusions danced briefly around them – shadows of the bandit children laughing alongside the Cardinal; of the old Explorer and the blind wind seraph who smiled back at the Shepherd and his Squire – this would throw them off, surely, and turn them to despair, it must–

But the shadows flickered weakly, fading along with the remainder of her strength, and Symonne was left curled against the cold, hard ground.

“Don’t you wish they could have at least survived? I can make it a reality, so why do you keep fighting back, why?!” She wept, feeling a last spike of defiance she glared up furiously at the Shepherd.

Sorey smiled sadly – that abhorrent smile, bright and untouched like the sun, she hated it so – and reached out for her, only to pause and thought better of it, pulling his arm back to rest at his side.

“If Forton, Mayvin, Dezel, and even those children were brave enough to have endured the pain that comes with reality… Then, we as the Shepherd and Squire – we surely have to do just as much and even more.” “That’s why we’ll keep pushing onward,” the water seraph said. “We could never cast away the memory of these people by accepting the illusions, perfect as they are.”

Beside them, the Squire nodded, a rueful look in her eyes. “Doing so would be a disservice to all the pain and hardships they had suffered.”

Sorey+Mikleo, ensemble (Exile/Rogue AU) “Do not let yourself be so readily deceived by all that glitters, by their honeyed words. After all, they murdered your father when he would not be silenced, and then banished us to the Wastelands. They sent your mother to die all alone – you still remember, don’t you? Her terrified screams when she was cut down, the way her blood stained the wheat fields crimson? Remember that always, child.” Sorey flinched from the twist of emotion within his gut. Lady Maltran might not be close by, but the ghostly whispers of her words still sent a trail of ice shivering down his spine. He shook his head, pushing away the taunting memories back. No, Lady Maltran was right – this wasn’t the time to let his guard down. He exhaled slowly, finding his centre again, and drew his thoughts back once more to the present. To focus on what had been drilled into him, what he had been sent to do. To distract himself from the lingering memories, he turned his attention to the dark wooden cabinets that lined the walls of the sitting room instead. They were packed with volumes of leather-bound tomes with yellowing pages. Curiosity getting the better of him, Sorey found himself easily absorbed by the contents of a book he selected from the nearest shelf. It was only when Fiuves’ abrupt movement caught his eye that he’d finally noticed the sound of approaching footsteps. Sorey could feel the marten’s claws twitching from where she was balanced upon his shoulder, a soft growl rumbling from her throat. Just as he was about to turn to see who was approaching him, there was another flash of movement; Sorey felt the book he’d been reading easily snatched from his hands. He blinked, surprised, only to glance up to meet the cool gaze of the young Prince Mikleo.

[weightlossfitness2]

30-Day Meditation Challenge Results… Am I Zen Yet?

Full disclosure: I’ve touted the advantages of meditation numerous instances… but with out talking from established expertise. Ever on a wellness kick, I lastly determined to take myself as much as process and embark on a 30-day meditation problem. Subtitle: Suddenly Seeking Serenity.

Why I Wanted to Try a 30-DAY Meditation Challenge

For starters, I’ve at all times struggled with anxiousness and despair. I’m additionally vulnerable to bouts of irritability, in addition to fixating on ideas and emotions that I do know don’t serve me. (Unfortunately, just like Madeline in Big Little Lies, “I love my grudges. I tend to them like little pets.”) Next, I’m very a lot go go go in each physique and thoughts, and have bother slowing down. But most significantly, I’m on a lifelong journey of self-improvement. I lately stop social media and have made a concerted effort to learn and hike extra typically. Essentially, I’m pushed so as to add extra worth and calm to my life, in addition to make higher use of my time. Finally, since I at all times search pure cures for my wellness issues, this problem appeared like an ideal match.

My Meditation Background

My expertise with meditation is spotty at greatest. I’ve been working towards yoga—a type of shifting meditation—for 15 years, which first received my ft moist within the realm of mindfulness. As for nonetheless meditation? There had been meditation modules in each of my yoga trainer coaching programs, and I additionally took a category on Tibetan Buddhist meditation in school—nevertheless it by no means actually caught. More lately, I’ve amassed a justifiable share of meditation apps, although they’re largely accumulating a heap of digital mud. All issues thought-about, I’ve at all times claimed to be “bad” at meditating. Simply put, I’d determine extra as 11th-hour “enlightened” Don Draper than real-deal Deepak Chopra.

My 30-Day Meditation Challenge

CHALLENGE RULES

I dedicated to meditating day by day for one month at Unplug, a boutique meditation studio in West Hollywood. For any days on which I couldn’t make a 30- or 45-minute class, I’d comply with guided meditations on the Unplug app, which conveniently has its personal month-to-month challenges and themes to comply with. This distant accessibility was an superior nice-to-have, since I knew it’d be counterproductive to emphasize out in regards to the few instances I couldn’t make it to the studio. (FTR, I missed one weekend to go to Ojai to study in regards to the 12 months forward with OG astrology queen Susan Miller. Additionally, I counted a Yom Kippur meditative service towards my quota for one more day.)

Baseline Check-In

I began my meditation problem on the primary of the month, nonetheless buzzing from the frenzy of writing HUM’s month-to-month wellness horoscopes. Yet regardless of driving the highs from my astrohacking completely happy place, my thoughts wasn’t proper. My anxiousness was charged up, I used to be delicate to others’ phrases and actions, and I felt unsettled and never ok. In different phrases, I used to be greater than able to zen out.

Unplug’s Meditation Classes

Sitting down in Unplug’s meditation room instantly put me comfy, each time, earlier than the classes even started. Perhaps it was the minimal decor, the strongly hued but nonetheless subdued lighting, or the straightforward act of gathering with others to be silent and nonetheless. This virtually Pavlovian calm carried on with every teacher’s introduction, after which into the precise meditation.

I attended a breathwork class on day one, which entails dynamic, charged, full-bodied respiratory. I’d studied and practiced quite a lot of respiratory workout routines earlier than, however holy moly—this one was a visit! At the primary go, I felt a cross between non permanent paralysis and numb electrical energy; I actually questioned if I’d have the ability to carry my limbs once more. While I wouldn’t say I used to be overwhelmed, I used to be definitely jarred but intrigued. I attended a handful of different breathwork courses all through the month, and after the third, I might swear I floated out of the studio again residence. Verdict: Breathwork isn’t any joke.

I vowed to attend as many alternative courses as I might with quite a lot of lecturers. (Hot tip: I additionally made an effort to change up my seat placement, an method I adopted from yoga. However delicate, it helps to refresh your perspective and never succumb to stale patterns.) Aside from the inaugural breathwork, I attempted the likes of sound therapeutic; binaural mind therapeutic massage; and crystal, chakra, aromatherapy, mantra, manifestation, and self-love meditations.

Potential Obstacles of Meditation

Dealing with Distractions

Throughout my meditation classes, I skilled just a few robust feelings (and cried as soon as) and witnessed a variety of bodily sensations in others. I’d come to know that not all the things is silent inside a bunch meditation setting—and that’s okay! I heard sighing, sniffling, loud night breathing, weeping, and screaming (on cue at breathwork, everybody was high-quality!), simply to call just a few. I took such involuntary releases merely as white noise, which didn’t disrupt my move. However, I might really feel my blood stress spike listening to nonstop toe-cracking in a single class and a telephone alert go off in one other. Admittedly, it took extra will than I’d have favored to refocus in these cases. But once more, I used to be precisely the place I wanted to be to know that this too shall cross.

To be sincere, my “monkey mind” was nonetheless energetic for an honest chunk of most classes. I considered work, meals, consuming meals after work, and many others. Staying current was no straightforward feat, but I didn’t chide myself for these lapses. A primary tenet of meditation is to easily observe—fairly than choose—such exercise. On a brighter notice, I nonetheless garnered extra self-discipline and ease than I’d been capable of previously. I neither felt agitated as I usually would, nor yearned for the category to finish.

Practical Considerations

I lucked out for a number of causes—a key one being that I stay up the road from Unplug and work only some blocks farther. Thus, the logistics on displaying up had been a bit of cake, whether or not I hopped out for a fast lunchtime sesh or popped in earlier than dinner. I’ll say, nonetheless, that paired with my common exercises, I had noticeably much less wiggle room in my day to learn, run errands, and the like. I fortunately accepted this trade-off, nonetheless, as a result of peace of thoughts is actually invaluable.

Also, I perceive that many individuals could not have the ability to afford such a membership, or carve outing of their day given the commute or work/household/social obligations. While Unplug’s app is each cost-efficient and handy, I positively benefited most from the accountability of displaying up and power from the group setting. But the great thing about meditation is you can actually do it from wherever, for a size of time that fits your way of life, to reap the advantages. I feel essentially the most pivotal features contain intention and consistency. As author/explorer Erling Kagge writes in Silence within the Age of Noise (a swift, lovely guide I extremely suggest): “Even a mouse can eat an elephant if it takes small enough bites. The challenge lies in the desire.”

Another bonus? A 2019 research exhibits that meditation—along with boosting happiness and reducing stress—can change your notion of time, making you are feeling much less crunched for it. IMHO, I see wins throughout the board.

MY MEDITATION CHALLENGE RESULTS

By the top of my 30-day meditation problem, I didn’t need it to finish. (And after all, it didn’t essentially must.) I’d ritualized my attendance and had come to like your complete course of. Most importantly, in comparison with my baseline emotions, I discover clear, optimistic, and lasting adjustments. Sure, I nonetheless grapple with anxiousness—however my reactivity, tempestuousness, and detrimental emotions of self-worth have considerably diminished. I feel I’m higher at rolling with the punches, and have been capable of let go of many damaging thought patterns that I’d usually latch onto and let chip away at me.

When all is alleged and accomplished, I wouldn’t say that I’m zen AF on the aforementioned Don/Deepak spectrum. I additionally don’t assume I’m prepared (or disciplined sufficient) for the likes of a 10-day Vipassana silent meditation retreat simply but. But on the similar time, my meditation problem allowed me to harness one thing akin to serenity that I hadn’t skilled earlier than on such a discernible scale.

Similarly with yoga, with out fail, I at all times felt higher strolling out of the studio than I did strolling in. And for that alone, I’d say meditation problem: mastered and meditation follow: a lifelong work in progress.

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