#she's bound to run into this crisis at least once or twice before everything is done

[kumawrites]

hi!! idk how requests work but coffeeshop au with oikawa as the flirty barista and you're just trying to find a place to study okay bye 😶😶

iced vanilla bean latte

☆ oikawa tooru x reader ☆

☆ - 1.7k words

☆ - a/n: i based this 100% in a local coffee shop in my area that i frequent except i h8 coffee

☆ - taglist: @miceonmars

//

“Y/N, Obama was the last president of the United States, not the third.” Kiyoko looked at you with a pitiful gaze in response to your answer.

“Oh.” You blinked once. Twice. A third time for good measure. So your American Politics class was needless to say, not going very well. Honestly, you didn’t even know why you were taking an American politics class when you lived in Japan. Actually, you knew why. Because of your horrible habit of procrastinating literally anything that can be procrastinated, you foolishly waited until the very last day that you could to register for classes. And unsurprisingly, most of them had been completely filled, leaving American Politics to be the only history class that you were able to take. Which would have been just fine, had you not procrastinated studying and even taking notes.

You stared blankly down at your notebook that was barely a quarter full. Instead of taking notes and actually paying attention in class, you either skipped or distracted yourself playing games on your phone. Your professor never notified you since you sat right in the middle of the lecture hall, not drawing much attention at all. Maybe, that wasn’t a good thing, however. You had no connection to your professor at all, and asking for help this late in the game just didn’t feel right, which is extremely irrational but you really didn’t care.

Your problem would really just have been solved if you did care. Too bad you didn’t. However, you’re stuck in a bit of a pickle now, not knowing even the basics of the class, with midterms coming up and a frighteningly fast rate. You were bound to fail, and your parents would not be very happy about that. So, you decided that it was finally time to actually study. Except studying really meant learning all of the material that you had covered for half of the semester in about a week.

Luckily for you, you had great friends who were super smart and actually studious to help! Kiyoko had already taken the class, being a grade ahead of you, and had graciously blessed you with her notebook full of her beautiful notes. It was truly astounding how notes could be so pretty. Yachi, on the other hand, gave your studying tips and ways to actually study well. Without those two, you would have failed the midterm for sure, and most likely the course all together.

You were currently studying with Kiyoko in the library, well trying to at least. Apparently, you knew less than you actually thought.

“Wait, what’s a Conservative? Is that a branch of Congress?” You weren’t doing too hot.

“It’s a political party. They’re a more extreme version of a the Republican Party.” You nodded your head, slowly understanding. Why were politics so complicated?

“Oh, okay. I think I get it. So, Liberals are Democrats but more extreme?”

“That’s right.” Kiyoko nodded her head as you scratched down some of her notes into your own notebook. Kiyoko’s phone pinged and she grabbed it from the table, turning it on. She read the message, sighed, replied, and began packing up her things. “Sorry, Y/N, but my boss just messaged me. I have to go in tonight, Hana got sick.” You nodded and gave Kiyoko a slight smile and a wave as she left. Now it was just you, left to your own devices. You were half tempted to close your books and play Fire Emblem, but that seemed like a poor long term choice.

You kept at it for a surprisingly long amount of time, around an hour, until a rowdy group came in. Even though it was a library, it wasn’t the most quiet of places on campus, and many groups liked to come in to work on group projects. You had no problem with them, until they set down their bags and their bodies at the table right next to yours, still chatting loudly. Unfortunately for you, you didn’t bring your earbuds with you. Since you assumed you would just be studying with Kiyoko the whole time, you didn’t bother to pack them. The one moment in your life when you needed them the most. A tragedy.

You sighed and packed up your things, considering giving up studying for the day, until you realized you were running out of time and were still extremely confused. And tired. You yawned as your left the library, wondering where to go from there. Going back to your dorm would only lead to you playing video games and ignoring everything else, so that was off the list. Every other place you could think of would be far too noisy to actually study. You were in quite the pickle.

You were really close to giving up for the hundredth time until you passed by a coffee shop that you had never seen on campus before. Was that always there? No, it couldn’t have been. It was in the middle of a route you used all of the time to get across campus. But how did you never notice that this was there? The shop had large windows that you could peek through to see a very classy interior. Everything seemed to be made of a walnut coloured wood, excluding the black chairs and stools. There weren’t too many people in the shop, just a small crowd. It looked peaceful. You stood there for a bit before deciding to walk inside. Maybe this is where you could study in peace.

As soon as you opened the door, you were greeted with the smell of fresh roasted coffee beans. You stopped a vacant table and placed your belonging on it and took a seat. The chairs were surprisingly comfortable, even though they seemed to be made of metal. The vibe in the entire shop was very calm. You could get used to this.

You took your notes out and began to study, creating flashcards and making your notes a bit cleaner and more cohesive. This was the kind of productivity that you needed to have on a daily basis. Too bad that this energy was for sure going to leave your body once you finish your midterm. Another yawn left your body, and you turned your head towards the counter. You could buy a coffee. That wasn’t going to break your bank account. Yeah.

You stood up and headed towards the counter, staring at the menu. Everything on the menu sounded fine, but you didn’t know exactly what you wanted.

“Hey! What can I do for you today?” A cheery voice broke you form your thoughts and you brought your eyes back down to look at who was speaking to you. The barista that greeted you had a charming smile on his face, one that you knew just drew people in. He was pretty, for sure, but you didn’t have time to think about pretty boys, too focused on trying to pass your class.

“Hi there. I’ve never been here, so I’m not too sure what to get. What would you recommend?” You have him a polite smile in return, and shifted your gaze back to the menu. There were so many options that you were a bit overwhelmed with choices

“Hmm..” The barista tapped his chin and scrunched his face a bit. “What about the vanilla bean latte? It’s really good iced!” He suggested and you nodded your head.

“Okay, sure. I’ll have that as a 24 ounce, then.” You ordered such a large drink since you assumed that you would be here for a while, having so much material left to study.

“Oh, it’s Y/N.” You replied and he hummed, typing it into the tablet on the counter. Your total came up and you handed him your card, making sure to leave a tip.

“That’s a cute name, just like you!” You stared at him. It was like someone had just stopped a record right in the middle of a song. What? Did you hear that right?

“Sorry, um, what?”

“I just think you’re super cute. We’ll have that vanilla bean right out for ya, Y/N.” He winked and walked over to his coworker who was making your drink. You vaguely remember his coworker scolding him, telling him to ‘stop flirting with the customers shithead’, but you really weren’t listening. Were you just, flirted with? Is that how this works? You for sure were not expecting that to happen.

You returned to your seat and opened up your notes, trying to forget the flirting(?) and focus on your studies. That’s what you came here to do, not flirt with a cute barista that you would for sure go on a date with. But, he was probably just a flirty person, you figured. If his coworker scolded him like that, it was probably a common occurrence, meaning you shouldn’t take it to heart or anything. He was just super cute.

Only a few minutes after you began to actually focus in on your work, you noticed that a large plastic cup full of iced coffee and a plate with a muffin was placed down at your table. Looking up, you saw the cute barista with a beaming smile on his face.

“Here you go, Y/N. Hope you like it.”

“Oh, I didn’t order a muffin.” You tilted your head up at the man who chuckled in response.

“I know. It’s on the house.” And with that, he gave you a tiny wave and disappeared into the back room, leaving you shook. Was this protocol? No, definitely not. Was this protocol for him flirting with every female customer? His boss wouldn’t let him give out that much free food. Was he really, for sure, actually, flirting with you? Was this real? Are you real? Okay, not time for an existential crisis.

You picked up the muffin on the plate, and noticed a small note that was placed under it.. It read, ‘text me!!!! :) xxx-xxx-xxxx - oikawa’. At this point, you were pretty damn sure he was flirting with you. Holy shit. He was flirting with you. Oikawa, you assumed his name was, still hadn’t come out of the storage room, so you couldn’t gauge his reactions or anything. You stared at your phone that you picked up like it was an explosive, ready to detonate. Were you actually going to text him? Was this actually a good idea? You know what, fuck American politics, you had something far more pressing to deal with at the moment.

y/n: hey is this oikawa? this is y/n

oikawa: hey cutie!! ;)

[lands-of-fantasy]

To Save Our Cities

Oliver's crusade grew, changed, and was bound to outlive him, so he needed to entrust it to others. Here you will find a bunch of his thoughts pre-Crisis as he ponders about his fate, fears, and what he is fighting for, finding strength and happiness among friends and allies and unexpected blessings... The multiverse might have asked a great deal of Oliver Queen, but it didn’t just take. It gifted him too.

I don’t really do fanfic but I felt the Need to write something about Oliver’s feelings in season 8, so... Here are some things going through his mind Pre-Crisis!

(This might be a little messy as I kept adding stuff but here it goes)

……………………………………………..

(Part 1: His people)

Oliver Queen’s life hadn’t been nowhere near “normal” for years but ever since The Monitor the crazy really went next level. As if magic, meta-humans, time travel, aliens, parallel earths and reality-changing forces weren’t enough, now he had a personal deal with some sort of cosmic deity.

His routine suddenly went from hunting down criminals to running mysterious errands across the Earth(s) in hopes of saving them and guarantying a future for his family and friends. His family…he thought with a sigh and a weight on his chest. His kids. He hadn’t spoken to William in months, what with him never responding his calls. Mia had just been born. He barely got any time with her. It seemed cruel of the universe, to take him from his family like that, and leaving things as they were. And Felicity. He missed her. A lot. But she was away with Mia and he had to focus on the now and ahead.

John got to him a while ago, and now they were among their team again. They always had his back, even when he told them not to. He felt a little warmth inside and a tiny smile on the corner of his lips. The tension on his shoulders giving in somewhat. He didn’t have to do this alone. At least not yet.

When exactly did the impossible became mundane in his life? Not much seemed impossible these days. Sometimes he thought it was a curse. But he knew it wasn’t. Just as he had seen supernatural forces threat his city and hurt his friends, he also saw plenty of them who protected, and saved. Even more than he did to be honest, even with all his hard work. Oliver had met all sorts of extraordinary people through his life, super powered or not, but it still amazed him every time he got to know a fellow vigilante. Not only met, but know.

Once he saw that the person under the mask was actually fighting for others, it pleased him. It made him feel at least a little lighter. To know others were out there doing the same as he was. That they cared. He knew the pain and the evil that people with ill intentions or twisted ideas could do to those who could not defend themselves. To know people just as capable - no, even more capable were fighting them made him feel like they could do this. They could keep people safer.

But now the worlds were ending. His family was in danger. Everybody was in danger. This was way beyond everything the they had faced before, and yet, he could still help save them. Except he would die in the process. And then…?

Felicity would look after Mia and William. John would look after Felicity, and vice versa…

Thea. She could look after himself, but she had already lost so much…He sighed, shaking his head. He couldn’t help but worry about his little sister, but he knew how strong she had always been, and how stronger she had become. If she needed support, he knew the others would be there. Even Sara would show up…. And if everything worked out, Roy too. Oliver wished he could help him work out his problems - it pained him to think he couldn't - but this was bigger than them and his time was running out. He had faith in Roy though. And deep down he had a feeling that whatever happened, Thea and Roy would eventually find their way to one another again, and be there for each other. It was a calming thought, really.

Rene and Dinah would be fine too. Basically, the team would take care of the city, and of one another, as always. He still hadn’t told them all, and the ones he did tell were refusing to accept it… Which he knew was proof of their bond, but it worried him too.

Dig was being ever stubborn. Thea refused to take it seriously. He frowned. As if he would be any different if the roles were reversed. But that was the problem. This might make it harder for them later. Losses always are… But they would go on. They all already lived with the loss of loved ones. After all they’ve been through, they could take it. At least this time he warned them. He would tell the others too. Eventually.

And if his sacrifice was only a step towards the end of Crisis…or if long after it was done some other disproportionately big threat appeared… He paused. Those were rather unpleasant thoughts, but they didn’t seem to go long without imminent danger and potential disaster - and after last year the world, or rather the Multiverse, seemed much bigger. He couldn’t even imagine what threats could be out there! Oliver took a deep breath. Hopefully nothing as devastating as this upcoming Crisis… Anyway.

Whatever menace came up after he was gone, he already knew how it would be solved. He asked himself those questions one year before, when he decided to make the deal - perhaps in not so many words, but that didn’t change the answer.

Barry. He could do it. He was sure of it. It could be too much even for him, Oliver knew, but he wouldn’t be alone. Kara. They were the answer. Together. And they would have the teams. They could call Sara and the other Legends. Call Batwoman. All hands on deck. There was no way they wouldn’t win this. They wouldn’t have it other way. He knew them. He knew some more than he knew others, personally, but as heroes? Oliver knew what they were willing to do and what they were capable of.

“No” he thought. “I’m sure they’re capable or things I haven’t even imagined yet”. For what could The Flash and Supergirl not achieve on their own, let alone together? That’s why he made the trade. All that power, and the two of them focused them on helping people. Which is why Oliver knew their biggest strength were in their hearts. They were good people, willing to make a change. That’s what mattered the most.

Barry was one of the best men he had ever known. A true hero, and a close friend. Having become a vigilante first, Oliver saw how Barry respected his input, and he had always done his best to share his experience with the speedster. But the truth is Oliver admired Barry. His resilience, his goodness. He trusted him. The things he had been through and overcome… Oliver might have gotten gradually used to “crazy” as Green Arrow, but that always had been The Flash’s normal. Huh. It was a good thing he got to tell Barry these things last year. It would be hard to say it now and not sound like a farewell.

And while he might not be as close to Kara, he knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t stop at anything to protect people (not to mention it would take a LOT for anyone to get close to stop her). He saw in her eyes and her actions how much she cared. And even back when he had his doubts, when he first met her, he knew she had to be good - because Barry trusted her. Those doubts were quickly and long gone. Earth 38 sure is lucky to have such a champion. She wasn’t even born there, but adopted the planet as her own. And as if that wasn’t enough, she had already risked herself for their Earth twice. He didn’t forget that. It was a lucky day for Earth 1 when Barry Allen met and befriended Kara Danvers, which allowed her to come to them in their time of need. A lucky day for them all to have met her. She was… inspiring. They both were.

Come to think of it, both Kara AND Barry had been facing threats from different universes long before the Monitor. Oliver chuckled. Those two were really on their own level. He was glad. Glad to know they would be there, after the Crisis. Glad to have them on his side. Glad to have known them. Meeting such Good people made him feel more hopeful for the world(s) in general.

And he hadn’t forgotten Sara, of course. She might not have those kind of super powers, but when has that ever stopped her? or any of them, for that matter? He knew perfectly well how wrong anyone would be to underestimate her. He knew he could trust her with anything and she would be there to deal with it and get the job done too. She had already given her life in a mission before, and that didn’t make her step away when she came back. She was still out there, fighting the good fight - only in different places, in different TIMES. Whether as Canary, White Canary or Captain Lance (as her team called her these days)…That’s just what she does.

It made him smile again. Once they were both irresponsible teenagers in Star City…and now she was a time traveler hero! He knew Barry could travel in time but that was Sara’s daily life. Sara and himself were very alike in many ways, but also very different in others…But it had always been easy between them. Just like with Thea, he felt bad for leaving her after everything she lost already, even if they rarely saw each other these days. Family is family. The Queen and Lance clan were getting another blow. But he knew they could take it. Besides, Sara had the Legends by her side, and he knew they were good to her.

Basically, between his team and the others, Star City and the Earth(s) should be safe. He nodded, taking the words to heart as he thought of every single one of his friends and allies.

Oliver didn’t really hesitate in trading his life for Barry’s and Kara’s on the year before. He obviously didn’t want to leave his family, but once he saw it was necessary, he went for it. He needed those two to be there… And that was only the reasoning behind it all. They were his friends. He couldn’t just watch them die and do nothing! It was what first sparked in his mind to take matters in his hands. The other motives soon followed, and he knew what he needed to do. No one else had to die. Mar Novu guaranteed him. That was the deal.

He hadn’t told them either, but how was he supposed to? He knew they wouldn’t take it well - he wouldn’t. They had to focus on the fight, not on him. He did wish he could at least warn Barry, but that wasn’t possible without explaining it…He would be upset, his heart was too big. In fact, it could also cause a different problem… He might take the job too seriously. Their mission was important, obviously, but Oliver didn’t want Barry to bury himself in it - he was dedicated enough to the cause as it was.

Suddenly he feared his friend might exert himself by trying to compensate for his death, burdening himself with too much. For years Oliver thought they couldn’t have both lives, while Barry tried to tell him they could… Fortunately they had already settled that, but what if the speedster got too shaken by the recent losses or he took the deal the wrong way? Oliver couldn’t take the risk. He should make it clear he wanted him to continue living normally too. Hmm. Maybe he should leave Barry something. Something to remind him of his own advice…Yes. That seemed right. He would arrange that. And however Barry took his death, he was a hero of his own. He too would overcome it and find his balance again.

Oliver didn’t regret making the deal. It did however take him months after it to truly come to terms with the decision. He knew it was better for the world, and therefore, for his family… But he couldn’t help feeling the sorrow of leaving his loved ones so soon. Specially in the present circumstances regarding his family.

……………………………………………..

(Part 2: Their fight and legacy)

Some time later, the universe bestowed on him a gift. In the middle of it all, as doomsday approached way too fast and he was slowly saying goodbye to his loved ones, even to people he never thought he would see again… THEY appeared. His children. Not the way he knew them, growing teenager and an infant, but two resilient and capable young adults, coming straight from the future, right in front of his eyes. Oliver could barely believe it.

It took him a while to accept they could actually take care of themselves now and that he couldn’t - and shouldn’t - stop them from coming on missions with him. It was dangerous, but they could look after each other, just like his team had always done.

Besides, having them around meant spending time with them - and there was nothing Oliver wanted more than that. Time with his family. Sadly Felicity couldn’t be there with them, but again, she was taking care of baby Mia. At least she would be there for them in the future. This? This was all he had. Here and now. In the mess of emotions, Oliver was also happy. Very happy and so very glad. He got to see his kids grown. He got to reconcile with William, talk to him, hug him. And Mia. He got to meet Mia.

William’s issues with Oliver, while recent in Oliver’s time, were long gone in this grown William’s life. With Mia, however, things were more complicated. She was tough. And bitter about Oliver’s sacrifice. Which he could understand, but at the same time, he wished she understood he only did it because it was necessary. Otherwise she and William wouldn’t be safe. She was very hardheaded…

But he couldn’t judge. She reminded him too much of himself. Which was hard, in a way - he knew he could be a difficult person, but now it seemed he could feel what it really was like to deal with him, first hand. Damn, John really was a well of patience. And goodness, to have insisted on him even back when they barely knew each other. But there was a good side in this as well: he had some ideas on how to reach to her. He would give her some space but aso help her no matter what. Besides, he could share his own experiences with her, showing her how he dealt with his troubles. Hopefully they would get there.

To add to their worries, his kids brought some dire news from the future, which shook the team. Apparently even if they saved the Earths the city was still at risk.They quickly decided they wouldn’t accept it. Not all of it, at least. The future wasn’t set. They knew what was coming in that front, so they could prepare. Besides, with his kids there, things were already different. That was encouraging. It still saddened Oliver to know Mia and William hadn’t met until recently, though. But it also made him happy to see how well they got along and how close they became in such short time. They could finally be there for each other. And yet more good news: They got their own Diggle! Or Hawke. Anyway, Connor. The kid seemed strong and tactical, and loyal to a t. He was a good man, as expected from Dig’s son. And he was friends with his kids! At least something went as he wanted. JJ however… It was hard to think of it, he could only imagine how it was for John. And Rene. Zoe Ramirez was also part of the team but such tragedy stroke, which stang them all… two more things to stop from happening. They simply couldn’t let it happen. They wouldn’t.

Oliver’s heart weighted again with all the potential pain in the future but again, he had to compartmentalize. He couldn’t despair. Fortunately the others did too, as they assured each other they would do better. Rene and John managed to focus - not like they needed extra incentive to give their all, Oliver was aware, but the news of this version of the future certainly fueled them into making things work out the best way possible. As if Oliver needed to be reminded of the value of his partners.

Rene, born and raised at the Glades, had not grown bitter of the city, but instead, had only love and will to improve it. He and Oliver had vastly different backgrounds but they had become rather similar in how they looked to their city. Dinah came to their police force and worked for them to fight alongside the vigilantes, which was particularly good after Quentin was gone, while also carrying on the Canary name. Better yet, they had two Black Canaries again, as even Laurel was with them in this - though the circumstances were the worst possible. The anti-matter wave was already in motion and she lost her entire world… But that’s why they were doing this. They had to stop it. At least she was alive.

Roy was also back and his circumstances were more fortunate. Oliver just wished the younger archer had talked to Thea properly before coming, but those two would have to work it out later. Right now, the older Queen was glad to have his old partner around (to even see him again!). One of the actually good news from the future was that he could manage his condition. That didn’t surprise Oliver, but Roy needed to hear it. It was soothing to be able to help him in his return after all - he thought he wouldn't have the opportunity. Good thing Dig reached to him. The team would help him recover. It occurred to Oliver part of the problem was Roy’s fear in hurting others, perhaps more than his lack of control. The news and the company would give him back his confidence and make him sharp again.

As for John, he had been his rock and his brother in this journey since the beginning, and through it all he continued to be - there was no one Oliver trusted more than him. The former soldier would still help a lot of people, he was sure of it. Lyla had been fighting on her front for a long time too, and still was, even if she, shockingly, was entangled with the Monitor…more or less like himself. He got it. He knew what it was like. They were all just trying to save their families.

Which was also what Felicity was doing in that exact moment, even far from them. He admired her strength in doing this on her own. Their success would make it safe for her to raise their baby daughter out of isolation, close to their friends and hopefully to William; it would also allow her to get back to the fight the way she wanted. He knew she could handle it, but he didn’t want her to be alone much longer. The vision never left his thoughts, and so it kept him going.

He was really lucky to be surrounded by such quality people. He started all of this on his own and planned to do it all that way, but that changed rather quickly, even if initially against his will. It had been a long time since he started fighting alongside several heroes, and as years passed, he met many more. He wouldn’t have it any other way. Oliver was happy his journey as the Green Arrow brought them together.

As a team they did more good than he could ever do on his own - and not only in Star City, but out there in the world as well. This was far from the first time he thought of that, but every now and then it hit him again - the thought of how extraordinary it was for them to be united in this, whether they were in the same city or far apart. They all made him a better man, and while they were all fine and capable people on their own, he knew he had helped them too. He certainly did his best.

He had a good team. And they would keep going after he was gone, in Star City and also far beyond it. The heroes he knew would keep helping people in Earth 1, 38, and even others, if it came to that again. Someday they might even live a quieter, more peaceful life! Now that was quite a thought….

But first, they had to fight. They had to save the future for their kids and for their cities. They had to save the Earth for everybody in it. As many Earths as possible, as they had just as much right to live. Not to mention Kara’s Earth. They couldn’t let her lose her people - which she already did once, he was aware of it. Laurel too. He couldn’t even fathom their losses. If it was possible to get Earth 2 back, he would do it. He would get justice for her. He was happy he at least managed to get her out of there in time, despite the Monitor’s warnings. He couldn’t lose another Laurel.

There was just too much at stake, even if the threat didn’t involve the entire multiverse. Oliver just had to trust his team. His friends. That, he already did. Now to do his part, he had to stay focused. With every reason to succeed in his heart, he continued to prepare for the fight ahead.

……………………………………………..

(Part 3: Gratefulness)

Crisis was ever closer, and so was the time for them all to make the impossible happen and save the multiverse.

It wouldn’t be a first. It was thanks to the impossible that Sara and Thea were still alive. That he was allowed to still talk to Laurel, even if she wasn’t the Laurel he knew, and to see her protecting Star City. That he saw Tommy again, even if a different Tommy, among so many other extraordinary encounters…

And weren’t the things Barry, Kara and even Sara did daily something he once believed to be impossible? He wouldn’t have befriended Barry if he hadn’t gotten powers, as the alternative was the speedster’s death! Instead, the universe gave the scientist the power to be the hero he could be, and gave Oliver another friend. He wouldn’t even have met Kara if it wasn’t for dimensional travels! Together they and the others had already saved the Earth before. They would do it again. Just…in a bigger scale. The possibilities of what they all could do had already proven to be endless.

And last but not least, despite having to die to help save the worlds, it was thanks to the impossible that Oliver could see his kids before it was too late. He even had enough time to get closer to Mia! For all that, Oliver was beyond grateful.

He gathered all his strength for the fight ahead. He had made peace with his losses and bid goodbye to his loved ones. He trusted his family would be alright and that Barry, Kara, Sara, John and all the other heroes would take care of each other and keep the worlds safe.

As he and his grown daughter hugged for the first time, he thought of Felicity, William, and all the people he loved and cared about. He thought about the friends who would be by his side until the end, and the future they would all fight for to guarantee, even after he was gone… And as the sky turned red, Oliver might have felt fear, but he also felt stronger. Knowing full well this would be his last battle, he wouldn’t stop fighting until he fulfilled his part in it. Nothing would stop him from saving his family nor his friends. He was ready.

……………………………………………..

Notes:

This was originally supposed to be a drabble about Oliver being grateful for his extra time with his kids but then it turned into him recognizing how some extraordinary things in general were a gift in his life, what with Barry and Kara coming into play, as well as the resurrections and doppelgangers… And then it became about him trusting the rest of the trinity with the Multiverse and I couldn’t let it be without bringing up Team Arrow and Sara too… So here we are

I know there’s some stuff I didn’t elaborate much, and I’m pretty sure there are some inconsistencies (I only watched the episodes once) but anyway. This is already MUCH bigger and elaborated than initially intended, I just kept writing XD I don’t think Oliver should have died, but here’s a shot at his thought process as he came to be in peace with it. I hope I managed to do the character and his relationships some justice

[frcmashes]

tagging: hope mikaelson ( @chosenlonely ) location: somewhere in the sky @ 30,000 feet description: handon go to disney 2k30.  landon has anxiety and hope is an excellent girlfriend. +  a deleted scene, if you will, where hope tells landon a secret she’s been keeping on the plane ride home.

landon kirby03/08/2020

at  first  glance,  this  seems  like  an  opportunity  of  a  lifetime:  5  days,  4  nights,  at  walt  disney  world.   yes,  that's  right:  disney   world,  as  in  the  one  in  florida  and  not  the  one  in  anaheim.   (  this,  he'll  own,  might  be  his  fault.   but  in  all  fairness,  disney  world  and  disney  land  is  just  asking  for  confusion.  )    so  when  the  itinerary  shows  up  in  the  mail,  complete  with  their  flight  information,  suffice  to  say  he's  equal  parts  excited  and  terrified.   he's  done  road  trips  before,  has  been  completely  fine  for  long  trips,  but  a  5.5  hour  plane  ride  ?  he  has  anxiety  just  thinking  about  the  anxiety  that  being  stuck  in  a  pressurized  cabin  will  give  him.   it's  not  like  you  can  just  crack  a  window,  or  pull  over  to  take  a  breath  when  it's  a  little  too  much  to  handle.    (  yes,  he's  excited,  but  he's  also  dreading  this  with  every  fibre  of  his  being.   it's  a  problem  ) he's  quiet  on  the  way  to  the  airport,  leg  jiggling  in  the bak  of  the  cab  as  he  checks  and  re-checks  that  they  have  everything.   they've  got  their  tickets,  their  passports,  and  the  boarding  passes  he  printed  out  online  the  night  before.   they're  ready.    or  as  ready  as  they  can  be,  anyway.    "  here  you  go.  departures.  have  fun,  kids. "   their  cab  driver  is  friendly,  helps  him  get  their  suitcases  over  to  the  bag  drop.   he  has  a  mild  moment  of  anxiety  over  passing  off  his  suitcase,  a  spider-man  emblem  made  out  of  duct  tape  a  beacon  that  will  make  it  easier  to  see  later,  but  things  go  off  relatively  without  a  hitch.   they  make  it  through  security,  grab  some  bagels  from  the  starbucks  by  their  gate,  and  by  the  time  they're  sitting  down  he  feels  ...  ok.    "  phew.  that  wasn't  so  bad. "

hope mikaelson03/08/2020

when  everything  feels  like  it's  going  to  hell,  she's  developed  a  rather  strange  coping  mechanism.  normalcy.  it's  as  though  if  she  embraces  it,  she  can  forget  about  the  insanity  circling  her.  it's  blatant  avoidance  but  at  least  it's  avoidance  wrapped  in  what  looks  -  to  the  outside  world  at  least  -  like  healthy  development.  pushing  boundaries,  breaking  comfort zones.  in  one  sense,  it  is.  allowing  herself  to  have  what  everyone  does  without  worrying  it  will  go  up  in  flames.  that's  why,  when  they  win  a  couples  contest  she'd  entered  mostly  for a  distraction,  she's  equal  parts  surprised  and  elated  when  they  win.  it's  just  what  they  need.  the  itinerary  shows  up,  they  start  packing,  landon  makes  a  superhero  emblem  to  make  sure  he  can  locate  his  luggage  and  she  falls  in  love  all  over  again.  (  she  reassures  her  parents  that  she'll  be  fine,  multiple  times.  )

landon's  quiet  on  the  drive  to  the  airport  and  she  understands  it.  she's  never  been  on  a  long-haul  flight  either.  in  fact,  she's  never  really  been  on  a  flight  at  all.  magic  always  seemed  easier  in  a  family  of  witches  and  vampires.  it  made  sense.  but  it  doesn't  now,  and  she  thinks  that's  a  good  thing.  she  smiles  at  their  cab  driver  when  he  sets  off  and,  when  they  go  through  the  airport,  she  actually  pretends  she  knows  what  she's  doing.  it's  not  so  much  for  his  benefit  as  it  is  for  hers.  she  might  be  breaking  boundaries  and  comfort  zones  but  she  still  has  a  somewhat  need  to  be  in  control.  everything  goes  off,  relatively,  okay.  nothing  explodes,  nothing  gets  destroyed.  they  make  it  onto  the  plane.  she offers  him  a  wide  smile  when  he  seems  to  sink  in  the  seat  and  reaches  over  for  his  hand  across  their  seats,  intertwining  their  fingers.  "  right?  we're  gonna  be  fine.  "  they  haven't  taken  off  yet  but  they'll  be  fine.  obviously.March 9, 2020

landon kirby03/09/2020

"  we're  gonna be  fine. "   he  echoes  it  because  he  believes  it,  even  if  he'll  be  proved  wrong  in  a  matter  of  minutes.   when  they're  together,  they're  stronger;   they  can  face  even  the  toughest  of  obstacles  —  like  wayward  feelings,  villainous  mudpit  parents,  and  monsters  bound  and  determined  to  upturn  their  lives.    he  knows  he  doesn't  always  pull  his  weight,  is  sometimes  more  of  a  hinderance  than  a  help,  but  he's  trying.    he's  trying  now  too,  focusing  on  his  breathing  so  he  doesn't  work  himself  into  a  panic.     it's  instinct  that  sees  his  hand  instantly  reach  for  hers,  threads  their  fingers  together  as  the  plane  roars  to  life  beneath  them.    the  vibration's  jarring,  he  squeezes  a  little  tighter,  but  they're  still  on  the  ground;  he's  fine.

knowing  that  he  needs  a  distraction,  he  focuses  on  the  facts.   things  they're  going  to  do,  places  they'll  see;   characters  he  would  die  to  meet.   "  with  the  time  difference,  we're  going  to  land  in  orlando  around  1:30.  i  think.  so  we  should  probably  — "   he  breaks  off  as  the  plane  starts  to  move,   taxying  on  the  runway.   he  blinks,  tries  to  remember  what  he  was  trying  to  say.    "  they'll  take  our  bags  straight  to  the  hotel  and  the  shuttle  will  drop  us  off  at  disney. "    the  plane  lurches  and  his  stomach  drops,  inhaling  sharply  as  he  grips  her  hand  like  a  lifeline.   "  so  we,  uh,  we  should  do  —  jesus  —   uh  one  of  the  smaller  parks.    animal  kingdom,  maybe.   or  the  water  parks. "     there's  no  time  to  input  his  opinion  because  they're  in  the  air,  his  eyes  widening  as  he  makes  the  mistake  of  looking  out  the  window.   "  oh  god. "

hope mikaelson03/09/2020

they  aren't  fine.  she  doesn't  have  a  particular  problem  with  flying,  the  usual background  fear  of  the  plane  going  down  and  killing  them  both  (  impermanently  where  she  was  concerned  )  considered.  landon,  it  would  seem,  does.  she  can't  blame  him,  figures  it  out  quickly.   small  spaces,  hope!  she  remembers  him  yelling  when  she  still  thought  he  could  be  dangerous.  planes  are,  essentially,  inescapable  small  spaces  cruising  at  several  thousand  feet.  she  watches  as  he  starts  to  panic,  finds  the  window,  and  she  squeezes  his  hand  while  her  free  hand  finds  his  face.  "  hey,   hey.  "  she  leans  over  in  her  seat,  puts  less distance  between  them  and  more  against  the  situation.  she  can't  do  much  to  stop  this  from happening,  but  she  can  soothe  him.  (  at  least,  she  hopes  so.  )

"  look  at  me.  "  not  the  fact  they're  getting  higher  and  higher  as  they  speak,  not  the  seat belts  strapped  to  their  waists,  not  the  closed  entryways  and  windows  all  around  them.  if  she  can  get  him  to  focus  on  something  he  doesn't  have  to  create,  an  itinerary  and  a  map  of  the  parks  she's  never  been  to,  then  she  has  hope  for  calming  him  down.  she  squeezes  his  hand  tighter  still,  anything  to  ensure  he  focuses  on  her  and  not  the  world  around  them.  "  we're  fine.  just  look  at  me.  "March 11, 2020

landon kirby03/11/2020

it's  not  a  command  but  it  might  as  well  be.   his  head  turns  sharply,  beads  of  sweat  dotting  his  hairline  as  he  swallows  hard.   he  hates  that  he's  like  this,  after  all  these  years.   that  he  can  blink  and  suddenly  he's  8  years  old  again,  locked  in  a  closet  he  can't  escape,  waiting  in  the  dark  for  someone  to  rescue  him.   it's  a  helpless  feeling,  one  he  hates  more  than  anything.    so  when  she  swoops  in  with  a  calm  voice,  soft  eyes  searching  for  his,  he  leans  in;     he  takes  a  breath,   he  swallows  past  the  panic.

"  we're  fine. "   he  parrots  the  words  back  to  her,  nodding  his  head.    he  repeats  them  twice  more,  feeling  the  anxiety  abate  a  little  more  each  time.     he  keeps  his  eyes  locked  on  hers,  frown  slowly  shifting  into  a  smile  as  the  plane  levels  out  and  his  heart  rate  normalizes.    he  feels  a  little  bit  like  he's  run  a  marathon  but  he's  survived;    he's  okay.    "  have  i  told  you  lately  how  much  i  love  you ? "   he  knows  he  has,  but  he  can  never  say  it  too  many  times.   he  loves  her,   loves  how  understanding  and  compassionate  she  can  be,  and  how  she  always  knows  the  right  thing  to  say  in  a  crisis.March 13, 2020

hope mikaelson03/13/2020

moments  like  this,  moments  of  normal  crisis,  make  her  confident.  make  her  feel  like  they  can  survive  anything.  make  her  feel  like  he  can  just  look  at  her,  keep  looking  at  her,  they'll  make  it  out.  (  they  always  do,  after  all.  even  when  things  are  far  more  dire  than  this.  )  he  comes  back  to  himself  slowly.  her  smile  reaches  her  eyes  when  his  starts  and  she  squeezes  his  hands  in  hers  again.  have  i  told  you  lately  how  much  i  love  you?  "  a  few  times.  "  it'll  never  be  enough.  not  for  her,  she  hopes  not  for  him  either.  she's  getting  into  the  habit  of  almost  making  dangerous  confessions  around  him  recently.  she  wants  to  tell  him  that  she  loves  him  too,  more  than  she  can  put  into  words,  and  she  thinks  that's  going  to  be  a  constant  for  as  long  as  she's  herself.  (  as  long  as  the  commodity  to  be  herself  is  one  she  can  still  afford.  even  if  she  spends  most  of  her  time  trying  to  outrun  the  sacrifice  it  means.  )

she  leans  in  instead.  kisses  him  soft  and  sweet  and  hopes  that  this  isn't  affection  he's  uncomfortable  with.  (  she  worries  it's  badly  timed,  all  things  considered,  but  she  supposes  sometimes  the  only  way  they're  really  going  to  get  through  this  plane  ride  is  together.  this  doesn't  feel  any  different  to  that  promise.  )  it's  brief,  because  she  knows  where  they  are  and  what  that  entails,  but  it's  still  tender  when  she  settles  back  into  her  seat.  "  i  love  you  too.  "March 21, 2020

landon kirbyLast Saturday at 1:17 AM

he's  quick  to  return  the  kiss  when  her  lips  press  against  his,  a  smile  replacing  the  frown  that  previously  graced  his  features.  together,  they're  untouchable  —  a  little  thing  like  takeoff  isn't  enough  to  ruin  this  experience.    (  there's  no  one  he'd  feel  more  comfortable  with.  no  one.  )   "  a  few  times  might  turn  into  way  too  much.    just  a  heads  up. "    he  thinks  he'll  never  get  tired  of  saying  it,  of  feeling  it.    he  hadn't  known  what  he  was  missing  before,  what  love  felt  like,  but  now  that  he  did  ?   it  was  the  best  feeling,   one  he'd  never  give  up  without  a  fight.

they  do  have  some  modicum  of  restraint,  so  he  only  kisses  her  once  more  (  okay,  maybe  twice.  or  three  times.  definitely  less  than  15  minutes  )    before  digging  his  phone  out  of  his  pocket.   once  hand's  still  holding  hers,  extending  an  earphone  for  her  to  take  so  they  can  listen  together.    yes,  he's  curated  the  perfect  airplane  playlist,  filled  with  their  favorite  songs.    (  if  it  spans  the  exact  duration  of  their  flight,  to  the  minute,  he'll  go  down  swinging  that  it's  just  a  coincidence.  )   "  five  hours  to  go  and  then  we're  at  disney. "    his  smile  isn't  nervous  this  time  but  excited;   it  still  hardly  feels  real.    that  they  get  to  experience  this  together,  for  the  first  time,  is  an  added  bonus.

hope mikaelsonLast Saturday at 8:06 PM

"  i  think  we'll  be  okay.  "  she  doesn't  think  she  could  ever  get  tired  of  hearing  landon  tell  her  he  loves  her.  she  would  never  admit  it,  but  she  absolutely  doesn't  understand  why  he  loves  her  in  the  first  place.  she  leans  into  each  of  the  kisses  pressed  against  her  lips,  keeps  her  fingers  on  his  cheek  for  just  a  few  more  seconds,  before  she  shifts  back  into  her  seat.  she  takes  the  earphone  offered  to  her  with  a  beaming  smile,  leans  further  over  into  her  seat.  she  squeezes  his  hand  in  hers,  makes  a  lighthearted  comment  about  how  she  hopes  this  playlist  is  five  hours  of  his  voice.   (  unedited,  serenading  her,  like  a  podcast. she  honestly  isn't  picky.  )

five  hours  of  perfectly  timed  playlist  later,  they're  on  the  ground  again.  she  holds  his  hand  through  the  descent,  promises  that  they'll  be  okay.  when  they  finally  do  land,  she  kisses  him  again.  (  for  no  reason.  she's  learning  that's  a  reason  too.  )  she  pulls  him  up  with  her,  grabs  their  luggage  from  the  overhead  storage  unit  (  or  well,  she  attempts  ;  she  ends  up  standing  on  one  of  the  chairs  but  no  one  said  she  couldn't  )  and  leads  him  through  the  door  to  sunny  florida.  "  we're  here.  "  it's  warm  for  the  time  of  year  and  she's  grateful.  she wonders,  as  they  walk  through  the  airport  to  get  their  other  bags,  what  they  look  like  to  the  naked  eye.  just  two  teenagers  in  love.  ah,  first  love.  to  roll  eyes  at  and  get  consumed  by  the  nostalgia  of.  (  she  knows  their  story  is  nothing  like  anyone  elses,  but  she  doesn't  want  it  to  be.  she  just  enjoys  the  freedom.  of  course,  that's  the  thought  that  carries  her  to  the  happiest  place  on  earth.  )

***

hope mikaelson03/08/2020

she  has  a  complicated  relationship  with  secrets.  she  understands  why  they're  necessary,  that  they  can  keep  people  safe.  shield  them  from  burdens  they  don't  have  to  bear.  the  problem  is  secrets,  by  their  very  nature,  have  to  take  a  toll  on  someone.  she's  learnt  that  first  hand  over  the  last  few  months.  it  shouldn't  be  so  hard  to  tell  your  boyfriend  that  you met  his  mother,  that  she  threw  herself  into  malivore  to  avoid  parental  responsibility,  and  that  she  somehow  remembers  when  no  one  else  does.  but  he's  malivore's  son,  and  she's    in  love  with  someone  else,  and  he's  stayed  with  her  all  the  same.  any  opportunity  that  arose  to  destroy  that  simply  felt  like  trying  her  luck.  but,  now,  she's  sitting  on  a  plane  back  from  florida,  with  pink  hair,  counting  down  the  days  until  her  boyfriend  inevitably  leaves  her.  yeah,  it's  gotten  out  of  hand. they've  been  in  the  air  for  a  while.  how  long,  exactly,  she  isn't  sure.  she  knows  that  most  people  are  watching  movies  or  asleep  and  so  she  figures  this  is  as  close  to  privacy  as  she's  going  to  get.  she  turns  her  head  to  her  boyfriend,  takes  stock  of  how  they're  definitely  going  to  stand  out  in  the  crowd  now,  leant  back  on  her  seat.  he's  a  nervous  flyer  and  she  doesn't  think  she  could  have  picked  a  worse  time  for  this.  but  realistically,  they  can't  escape.  unless  he  decides  to  hoard  the  bathroom  until  they  touch  the  ground  and  never  speak  to  her  again.  (  that's  more  than  the  worst  case  scenario,  but  she's  sunk  so   deeply  into  her  own  paranoia  it  actually seems  like  a  reasonable  fear.  )  "  hey,  "  her  voice  is  gentle,  taking  a  breath.  "  you  okay?  "

landon kirby03/08/2020

what  he's  learned,  in  the  aftermath  of  his  first  disastrous  experience  with  flying,  is  that  when  they're  cruising  ?  he's  mostly  fine.    he  takes  the  aisle  seat,  makes  sure  their  window  covering  is  pulled  all  the  way  down,  and  focuses  on  playing  video  games  or  listening  to  music  with  hope.  distractions,  he  knows,  are  the  key  to  maintaining  his  sanity. that  being  said,  he's  had  this  feeling  —  call it  intuition  —  since  they  got  back  on  the  plane  that  something  was  up.      not  with  the  plane,  thank  god,  but  with  the  girl  sitting  beside  him.    she's  quite  by  nature;   gentle  but  strong,  wise  but  vulnerable,  but  it  feels  different  this  time.  deliberate.       he's  been  thinking  so  much  about  what's  not  being  said  that  he  almost  misses  it  when  she  does  speak.   "  what  ?  oh,  yeah.  i'm  good. "   he  cracks  a  smile,  finds  that  he  actually  means  it.    "  don't  get  me  wrong;   if  we  hit  any  turbulence,  or  when  we  land,  that  good's  going  to  turn  into  really  not  good  until  we're  back  on  the  ground. "    at  least  this  time  he  won't  (  hopefully  )  trip  down  the  stairs  in  his  haste  to  get  off  the  plane.

hope mikaelson03/08/2020

she  never  forgets  that  she  loves  him  but  sometimes  she  remembers  why  she  loves  him  as  much  as  she does.  it  scares  her,  when  he  smiles  at  her,  and  she  wants  to  feel  at  ease.  it  scares  her  because  it  could be  over  in  a  minute.  that  she  might've  finally  found  the  straw  that  breaks  the  camels  back  and  it  will  be  her  fault.  it  wouldn't  be  the  first  time,  and  it  won't  be  the  last,  but  the  thought  alone  chills  her  to  the  bone.  she  hopes,  truly,  that  he  still  looks  at  her  like  that  after  this.  "  yeah.  "  she  offers  him  a  laugh,  remembers  the  mishap  last  time  he  attempted  to  get  off  a  plane  quickly.  she  doesn't  want  to  talk  about  how  he's  good.  all  part  of  the  selfish  dread  in  how  he  might  not  be  soon.

"  but  i'd  protect  you.  "  she  lets  her  hand  rest  on  the  arm  rest  between  them,  decides  against  holding  his  hand.  she's  a  little  notorious  for  withholding  affection  when  she  has  something  to  tell  him.  it's  equal parts  self  sacrifice  because  all  she  wants  is  to  touch  him  and  fear  that  once  she  comes  out  with  what  she  has  to,  he  won't  want  to  touch  her.  she  shifts  closer  to  him  instead,  finds  yet  another  way  to  break her  own  rules,  and  looks  over  his  face.  better  late  than  never.  she  has  enough  of  him  now,  has  had  enough  of  him  and  memories  and  being  in  love  over  this  trip,  that  if  he  never  wants  to  see  her  again  she  has hope  she'll  survive.  "  i  have  to  tell  you  something.  "  it's  eating  her  alive.  she  loves  the  way  he  looks  at  her,  she  always  will,  but  the  longer  she  keeps  this  from  him,  the  more  she'll  wonder  if  she  really  deserves  it.  "  it's  about  your  mom.  "(edited)March 9, 2020

landon kirby03/09/2020

he  can't  help  the  way  his  smile  softens,  how  he  pictures  her  trying  to  protect  him  from  something  like  turbulence.   if  anyone  could  do  it,  he  knows  hope  mikaelson  is  the  one.   she  can  do  anything,  when  she  puts  her  mind  to  it.    he's  seen  that  first  hand.    but  he'd  meant  what  he  said;   he  was  good,   or  at  least  his  version  of  good.   (  maybe  less  good  than  your  average  person  but  still functional.  the  distinction  seems  important.  ) there's  no  ignoring  the  way  his  stomach  flutters  at  the  words  '  i  have  to  tell  you  something  '  —  historically,  if  you  look  back  on  things,  it  hasn't  led  to  the  best  of  revelations.     so  he's  nervous,  has  an  air  of  confusion  around  him  as  he  turns  to  look  at  her.   "  about  my  —  about  seylah  ? "    she  might  be  his  mom  but  the  title  doesn't  fit.    she  never  wanted  to  be  his  mom,   never  asked  for  the  cards  she  was  dealt;    he  can't  say  he  holds  anything  against  her.   or  he  doesn't  want  to  ...  knowing  what  he  knows  now.    (  what  he  sometimes  wishes  he  didn't.  )   "  what  is  it? "

hope mikaelson03/09/2020

about  seylah.  she  just  has  to  rip  the  bandage  off  for  both  their  sakes.  she  can't  dangle  news  about  his  mother  in  front  of  him  and  then  leave  him  guessing.  it's  selfless  enough  in  essence  for  her  to  push  forward.  she's  doing  this  because  she  loves  him,  because  he deserves  better  than  being  left  half  in  the  light.  "  remember  that  road  trip  we  took  to  kansas?  "  the  one  that  ended  in  spontaneous  and  unexplained  amnesia.  "  i  lied  when  i said i  didn't  remember  anything.  "  it's  not  even  a  lie  of  omission,  it's  a  direct  lie.  an  intentional lie  with  good intentions  but  an  intention  lie  none  the  less.  "  you  were  in  an  this  motel  room  with  her  when  we  found  you.  she  told  us  she dealt with  monsters  that  she  never  remembered.  "  she  leaves  out  the  part  about  not  knowing  who  landon's  father  is.  she  doesn't  need  to  dig  that  knife  in  deeper. "  i  caught  her  trying  to  leave  without  saying  goodbye  a  while  later.   we  thought  we could  stop  her,  give  this  monster  the  urn  and  follow  her.  we  even  got  to  triad.  "  almost.  "  but  they  had  traps  we  didn't  expect  and  by  the  time  we  woke  up,  she  was  already  gone.  "  she's  still  looking  at  him,  trying  to  swallow guilt  that's  all  her  own.  seylah  might  have  been  the  one  who  jumped,  who  erased  herself,  but  she's  the  one  who  kept  all  of  this  close  to  her  chest.  all  too  aware  of  what  it'd  do  to  landon  if  he  found  out.  "  i'm  so  sorry  i  didn't  tell  you,  landon.  i  should  have.  "  but  she didn't.  "  i  just  thought  i  could  save  you  from  knowing  what  that  --  this  feels  like.  "  she  did  for  a  time.  it  would've  almost  been  a  good  plan.  " but  i  couldn't.  and  i'm  so  sorry,  landon.  "March 10, 2020

landon kirby03/10/2020

of  course  he  remembers.   they'd  woken  up  in  a  field,  blasted  off  their  feet,  with  no  real  memory  on  the  hows  and  whys  of  how  they'd  gotten  there.  to  hear  that  it  was  seylah  ...  it  makes  sense.   it  explains  why  the  picture  went  missing,  how  he'd  lost  the  very  possession  he'd  always  clung  to  with  some  ferocity.   (  he'd  been  putting  the  pieces  together  since  that  talk  with  the  croatoan;   this  simply  confirms.  )  he  never  would  have  misplaced  it,  or  lost  track  of  its  whereabouts;    it  was  a  point  of  contention,  a  question  he'd  never  thought  he'd  see  answers  to.   knowing  the truth  ...  a  weight  lifts,  a  failure  he'd  never  really  deserved  lifting  with  it.   "  oh. "     it's  an  anti-climactic  answer,  he  knows  this,  but  it's  because  his  thoughts  are  moving  to  quickly  to  lock  down  into  words.   if  this  was  a  few  months  earlier,   if  he  didn't  know  then  what  he  knew   now,  he  thinks  he'd  be  upset.   he's   ...    not  happy,  but  that's  a  given.      they  don't  lie  to  each  other  but  she's  been  sitting  on  this  one  for  months.   (  ironic,  given,  he's  sitting  on  one  of  his  own;    one  he  knows  he  will  never  share.     he  knows  now,  some  secrets  are  too  heavy  to  burden  others  with.  )

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11:49 PM

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* "  she  said  as  much,  when  i  saw  her. "    he'll  add  more  context  now,  given  there  are  no  heavy  emotional  revelations  hanging  over  their  heads  at  the  moment.   "  she  thought  she  was  giving  me  a  better  life.   i  can't  really  hate  her  for  that.   all  things  considered. "   he  can't  put  it  into  words,   can't  find  the  right  ways  to  twist  his  mouth  and  spew  the  horrors  that  live  there.   "  it's  not  like  —  she  didn't  choose  this. "   he  says  it  plainly,  clearing  his  throat  in  hopes  to  change  the  subject.    he's  ...  come  to  terms  with  things,  but  that  doesn't  mean  he's  okay.     "  i  understand  why  you  didn't  tell  me.   i  probably  wouldn't  have  told  me  either. "     he  can  say,  with  absolute  certainty,   on  the  other  side  of  the  looking  glass  that  he  would  have  done  the  same.     knowing   who  he  is,  what  he  is,  has  provided  some  much  needed  clarity  ...  but  the  connotations  that  associate,  the  harsh  reality,  is  something  he  doesn't  know  how  to  grapple  with.   he's  not  sure  he  ever  will.   "  it's  okay.  i  forgive  you. "    it's  true,  genuine as  he  reaches  and  squeezes  her  hand.   "  you  were  trying  to  protect  me. "     if  only  everything  was  that  easy,  that  demons  could  be  defeated  with  good  intentions  and  positive  intent.     "  what  i  don't  get  though  is  ...  we  all  forgot.    or  i  thought  we  did. "    apparently  she  did  not.   "  how  did  you  remember  ?  after  she  went  into  the  pit. "March 13, 2020

hope mikaelson03/13/2020

she  holds  her  breath.  she  feels  selfish,  waiting  for  his  reaction,  waiting  for  inevitable  rejection,  when  this  isn't  about  her.  (  she  hates  the  way  her  mind  can  trick  her  ;  can  turn  everything  against  her.  she  hates  that  she  can't  stop  it.  )  "  oh.  "  she  still  doesn't  feel  like  she  can  breathe.  he  knows,  that's  good.  she  convinces  herself  this  boils  down  to  more  than  just  her  lies.  (  she'd  forgive  him  if  the  roles  were  reversed.  she  thinks  she  could  forgive  him  for  just  about  anything.  she  feels  fear  of  an  entirely  different  variety  rise  in her  throat.  )   she  knows  where  not  to  poke,  when  to  leave  the  insinuations  and  horrors  he  isn't  quite  describing  in  the  air.  "  she  told  me  that.  "  told  her  that  being  a  mother  was  never  on  her  list  of  things  to  do  before  she  died.  he  tells  her  he  understands  why  she  didn't  tell  him,  that  he  forgives  her.  she  can  breathe  again,  but  she  doesn't  feel  okay.   (  relief  might  flood  her  but  that  doesn't  mean  she  forgives  herself.  )

she  squeezes  his  hand  in  return,  almost  feels  like  she's  overcompensating  when  she  doesn't  need  to.  (  she  builds  every  moment  like  this  up  in  her  mind  but  never  knows  what to  do  with  the  climax.  )  "  i  won't  do  it  again.  "  when  she  promises,  it's  sincere.  it's  a  promise  she  can't  ensure,  one  she  shouldn't  be  making,  but  she  never  wants  to  destroy  the  way  he  looks  at  her.  he  changes  the  subject,  moves  on  to  why  she  remembers  and  he  doesn't,  and  she  wishes  they  were  in  his  room  at  school.  or  her  room  at  home.  not  thousands  of  feet  up  in  the  air.  "  i  don't  know.  "  it's  anti-climatic  in  turn,  followed  by  a  shrug  and  a  defeated  expression.  "  dr  saltzman  doesn't  either.  "  which  was  terrifying  in  and  of  itself.  "  all  i  know  is  when  i  woke  up  in  that  field,  i  remembered  everything.  "

[vagrantblvrd]

Take What’s Broken (Make It New) 1/1

Summary: There are dead and dying agents in the halls, alarms blaring and they’re down to backup power that won’t last much longer now because Gavin’s a thorough son of a bitch. 

Notes: Prompt fill for the two different Anons who asked for Freewood with these prompts:

29: “There was never an us."   and  23: “Why did you spare me?”

I hope you don't mind that I combined them, or that I've set this fic in this mess of an AU. :D?

AO3

There are dead and dying agents in the halls, alarms blaring and they’re down to backup power that won’t last much longer now because Gavin’s a thorough son of a bitch.

Better than anyone here gave him credit for because he’s managed to fool all of them, hasn’t he.

Played the part of the charming British agent over from MI6. A bid to foster good will and strengthen ties with their allies that should have been a good thing. (Ryan’s own agency on shaky ground given the multiple investigations it was under, desperate enough to snatch up the offer without bothering to read the fine print)

And they’d all fallen for it hook, line and sinker because Gavin was just that good.

The right amount of charming and funny, self-deprecating sense of humor. Even Ryan had fallen prey to it, lowered his guard even though he should have known better. Allowed Gavin to get close to him and he’s paying for it now, that lapse in judgment.

They’d fallen for Gavin’s act, and it’s costing them as agents and security throw themselves at him hoping someone will be able to stop him.

Headed for the heart of the agency, planning to take all it’s secrets, and clearly wiling to do anything to do it. (Anything.)

Ryan feels sick at the thought and shakes his head to clear it because he can’t think about those stupid, naive could have beens he’d imagined for them.

Ryan’s head snaps up at the sound of gunfire down the hall. Hears a body hit the floor checks his own weapon before creeping closer. He can hear muffled yelling coming from one of the storage closets and no sign of movement down the hallway.

For a moment Ryan considers moving on, but the building is on fire and there’s too much chaos around them for him to think anyone else will come this way in time.

There’s a chair tucked under the doorknob - low-tech but surprisingly effective. When Ryan opens the door, he’s greeted with the familiar faces of office and cleaning staff. A mail-room worker.

Non-combatants, all shoved in here to keep them out from underfoot when Gavin could have just as easily killed them. (Should have, when it’s the smarter option.)

Ryan ruthlessly quashes that tiny sliver of hope lodged in his chest because locking them in here saved Gavin bullets. Created a distraction for anyone pursuing him and buying him time. (Efficiency and strategy and nothing more.)

“Peters,” Ryan says, grabbing the shoulder of the only one of them who looks like they have their head on straight. “Get them out of here. He’s headed to the data center.”

And Ryan’s going to stop him.

Peters looks like she wants to protest, but Victoria from reception lets out a choked sob and Ryan can see Peters’ priorities shift. Looking after her people in a crisis the way she’s always done, trusting to the agents to do the same.

“Take the service route,” he tells her, and slips out of the storage closet before she can say anything.

He stops down the corner to listen. Waits until he hears her coaxing the cluster of people into the hallway and towards safety before moving on.

Ryan comes across a pair of agents a little further down where they must have confronted Gavin. Sharpe is dead, and her partner is sprawled brokenly across the floor, choking on his own blood, but they managed to hit Gavin at least once.

Blood spatter on the wall and a trail leading away, glistening in the dim lighting.

Ryan hesitates, but Gavin knows Ryan’s coming for him – can’t not, after everything he’s done – and the bullet Ryan puts in one of his own is mercy. (Tastes foul, black and bitter and weighing Ryan’s soul down, down, down.)

A few feet on and there’s a bloody hand print on the wall, little smears where he must have leaned against it before pressing on. The blood trail stops at the elevator bank, but Ryan knows where Gavin’s headed. (No need to follow breadcrumbs to get there.)

Ryan takes the stairs, leery of being caught in the elevators between the dwindling power and Gavin’s deviousness. When he reaches his destination, he doesn’t bother with the main doors, bolted and locked down as they are when there’s an easier path.

Remembers Trumbull bitching to Newbern about major security vulnerabilities surrounding the data center and server room. Valid concerns that had been dismissed in light of more immediate matters.  (After all, how in the world would anyone be able to get that far in a building full of trained government agents?)

There’s an old conference room down the hall from the data center that hasn’t been used for official agency business in years, decades, maybe. Turned into something of a storage area for the techs, a perfect spot for a clandestine meeting and all too often overlooked.

Ryan uses a filing cabinet to give him a foot up, and pulls himself up into the small space, careful where he rests his weight as he moves toward the data center. He’s almost there when impatience and desperation combine and he misjudges how much weight he can put on a support.

Feels it start to give under his foot, but he’s too slow to move and he crashes through the ceiling tile to land in an ungainly sprawl. Gun jolted out of his grip, pain screaming through his shoulder and side head rebounding against the cold tiles, stunning him.

The sound of someone crossing those same tiles until they stop a foot away from him.

When he opens his eyes, Gavin’s standing over him.

The sleeve of Gavin’s arm is dark with blood, tie wrapped messily around the bullet wound there, courtesy of Sharpe and her partner.

“Hi, Gavin,” Ryan says, anger and frustration beating against his ribs, fury howling in his mind at this person who’s brought his world crashing down like this.

Gavin tips his head to the side, oddly birdlike.

“Hi, Ryan.”

There was a time Ryan would have said Gavin wore his heart on his sleeve. Gave too much of himself away and that he should take more care, what with the way the world is.

Not anymore.

Not with the way Gavin’s looking at him. Eyes colder than Ryan’s ever seen, expression so perfectly blank and unreadable.

Not the Gavin he was partnered with all this time.

The one he laughed and joked with. The one he shared more of himself with than anyone else because Ryan’s a hypocrite. (Trusts too easily, too quickly, when he allows someone close.)

The one he -

“You were supposed to be in DC.”

Ryan laughs, imagines he’s choking on things like regret and guilt and self-recrimination rather than the smoke rising from the back of the room.

Too late to stop Gavin then, because that’s become a trend with him. (Too late to see what had become of the agency he thought he loves enough to sacrifice for. Too late to argue Newbern down from his conviction that partnering with Gavin’s agency would save theirs. Too late to stop himself from falling helplessly in love with Gavin.)

“We wrapped up early,” Ryan says, staring at the hole in the ceiling. Broken and jagged and crumbled bits of ceiling tile drifting down on him. “I wanted to surprise you.”

Ryan pushes himself to his feet, and because he’s just that stupid, he lifts his hands and does the world’s saddest jazz hands.

“Surprise.”

Gavin’s eyes narrow, a muscle jumps in his jaw, and Ryan stares at him while the agency’s servers burn.

Years, decades, of information and secrets (Jesus Christ, so many of those), turning to melted plastic and metal and fouling the air. (Fitting, considering the agency’s slow, painful decline from nearly noble to what it is today.)

“Why?” Ryan asks, even though he knows he won’t like the answer. “Why do all of this?”

Why go along with the subterfuge of some bizarre agent exchange program? Why put up with the humiliating cases they were handed to keep Gavin from getting too much of a glimpse of the way the agency operated? Why -

Gavin’s eyes go to the door when the sound of voices reaches them. Noise of running footsteps and barked orders. Something heavy impacting the doors that Gavin’s blockaded with useless server racks and filing cabinets.

“Why us?” Ryan asks, and it must be the smoke drying out his throat that the words come out so cracked and brittle.

Gavin looks at him as the doors rattle under another impact. The blockade shifting with the sound of metal scraping against tile, and again, and again.

One last push to stop the traitor in their midst.

Gavin’s lip curls, hand steady as he aims his gun at Ryan.

“There was never an us.”

Ryan wants to say he sees something like regret in Gavin’s eyes. Deep down, under that terrible blankness, but that would be another lie to tell himself, wouldn’t it?

Gavin fires.

Once.

Twice.

Ryan grunts as the bullets hit him, breath punched out of him and pain blooming bright and sharp across his chest as he falls.

He sees Gavin hesitate before tucking his gun away, and moving to grab a bag off the floor nearby. Watches helplessly as Gavin pulls himself into the ceiling just as the agents break through his blockade to spill into the room.

He tries to follow, stop him, but his body’s already shutting down on him, pain and stress dragging him under as the agents open fire on the ceiling where Gavin disappeared, gunfire sounding loud as thunder.

========

Cracked ribs and a mild concussion on top of other unimportant injuries make Ryan just one of many casualties.

One who could still walk, no matter how unsteadily. Wasn’t actively dying, so they sit him down in the ER’s waiting room while seeing to those more critically injured.

Mind clearing after the second hour of waiting, Ryan realizes the precarious situation he’s in. What was bound to happen when the dust settled and people started looking for convenient scapegoats. (Newbern’s flunkies keeping an eye on him and the other wounded feeling more ominous as time passes.)

Hospitals are easy enough to get lost in if you try hard enough. It’s easy to slip the unformed police officers. Newbern’s chosen trying so hard to look concerned for their fellow agents and not what secrets they might spill to the wrong people.

It occurs to Ryan as he’s packing essentials, ghosting through the city withdrawing money from his bank accounts and preparing to disappear, that he’s been building up to this for a long time, now.

Without attachments (Gavin), it’s painfully easy to cut ties with his life here. Too much of his life put into his work, thinking he was doing the right thing and blinded by what had happened to the agency he loved so much. (Chipping off pieces of himself bit by bit until he was barely recognizable anymore.)

Ryan’s learned a lot, working for the agency. Knows exactly where to go where he won’t be found, the kind of city that won’t mind another lost soul.

He knows the money he managed to bring with him won’t last, and things are still too dangerous for him to look for a respectable job, not that he wants to.

Angry and bitter and he’s really only been good for one thing, Newbern and every other superior he’s ever had taking advantage of that, and honestly, that should have been a warning sign in and of itself.

Still, Lost Santos is the perfect kind of place for someone like him, and he starts building a reputation for himself there using what the agency taught him.

Good at killing people and keeping secrets he wants to keep. Good at surviving things that should have killed him a dozen times over.

Eventually, he catches Geoff’s attention, and when Geoff comes around and asks if Ryan wants to work for him, he says no.

Ryan’s not looking to throw his lot in with another organization, never forgets what happened the time he did.

He says no again a week later when Geoff tracks him down to the bar Ryan likes to go to every now and then. Grabs a booth in the back and sips his diet soda while he watches the patrons, keeps his skills sharp.

And Geoff.

Geoff drops down in the seat across from him with a shit-eating grin and asks Ryan if he’s reconsidered since the last time they talked. As though Ryan wasn’t very clear about things, didn’t make himself heard.

And he keeps doing it, finding Ryan wherever he goes, little grin on his face as he asks if Ryan wants to join the Fakes, like it’s some kind of club instead of a dangerous criminal organization.

Ryan tells Geoff no a dozen times in as many weeks, until he gets tired of it and says yes, just to see the look of shock on Geoff’s face.

“One job,” Ryan says, firm, unyielding. “Then you and yours leave me the fuck alone.”

It doesn’t work like that, of course.

Not with these assholes.

No.

Geoff’s already gotten under his skin, but the job Geoff brings Ryan in on is a big one. Requires weeks of prep, and that’s when the others get their claws in him.

All of them bitter bastards who have been fucked over by life one way or another, this look to them Ryan knows.

Jack’s the most upfront about things, no reason not to be when Ryan goes with him to steal a Cargobob and it comes out he used to be military. Flew special ops team on missions that never happened until Geoff came along and things got even more complicated, because Geoff’s good at that.]

Little things the others let slip, old habits they haven’t quite broken and he knows he’s the same. Quirks and oddities from the life he’s left behind that – ironically, hilariously – make him a better criminal than the agent he used to be.

In spite of himself, Ryan sticks around when the job’s over. Claims he’s interested in another haul like the one they just made, but they all know he’s full of shit. (Breaking his own rules all over again like it didn’t end badly the first time around, but Ryan’s that kind of stupid.)

Ryan likes them, thinks he could learn to trust them, given time.

And honestly, they make a good team, this crew.

========

It takes six years and a broken down warehouse in Los Santos before Ryan comes face-to-face with his past.

What’s left of it, anyway. His old agency ripped wide open and all its secrets laid bare in the aftermath of Gavin’s betrayal.

========

Ryan’s been out of town helping Fakehaus with a little problem, when Jack calls him back to Los Santos because Geoff goes missing.

Something to do with a rival crew (there’s always one of those) getting a little too ambitious and Geoff being a little too Geoff.

Disappears somewhere between leaving the penthouse and meeting with one of Burnie’s people, and a phone call from the fuckers who took him just to gloat.

Getting back to Los Santos is a nightmare, pileups on the freeway that backs up traffic for miles.

By the time Ryan gets back to Los Santos Geoff’s been found after Burnie’s man went looking for him. Jack sends him the address in the industrial district where Ryan comes across a ghost from his past.

Six years since Ryan’s world came crashing down, and Gavin hasn’t changed that much.

Stupid frosted tips and obnoxiously gaudy sunglasses and douchebag ensemble aside, he knows Gavin. (Or did. It’s complicated.)

The beard’s new, along with the scar on his face bisecting his eyebrow.

There are bodies scattered around them. Members of the crew stupid enough to challenge them like this, and for a moment he’s back in the agency’s hallways, smoke and fire and blood all around. (The impact of the bullets and Gavin’s cold gaze on him.)

“Vagabond!”

Michael, sounding startled as Ryan draws his gun and stalks toward the pair of figures in the center of the warehouse.

Geoff tied to a chair and goddamned Gavin standing over him.

He can feel Geoff’s eyes snapping to him at Michael’s yell. Pulling himself upright even though it has to hurt with the way he was curled down over his ribs.

Gavin turns to look at him. Clearly unfazed with the threat of the Vagabond pointing a gun at him and Ryan almost, almost, laughs at that.

Of course he wouldn't be scared of someone like the Vagabond, not when he’s a million times worse. Done things the Vagabond would never dare.

Six years ago Gavin burned Ryan’s world down, and now -

“Vagabond!” Michael yells again, hand on Ryan’s shoulder holding him back, grounding him in the here and now.

Jeremy’s beside him, gun drawn and head cocked to the side, question in his eyes. Ready to say fuck it all and back Ryan up here no matter what because Battle Buddies.

Jack walks up to the three of them, quiet and watchful and Geoff.

“Ryan,” Geoff says, doesn’t bother with calling him the Vagabond because Gavin must know who he is. (Or maybe he’s more worried about Ryan’s mental state than anything else at the moment, who can say.)

Beaten all to hell and still watching Ryan carefully, like he knows how close Ryan is to that edge he’s been teetering on for a long time now. (Six years, give or take.)

Gavin shifts, moves away from Geoff in case Ryan does snap. Does something he shouldn’t and doesn’t want Geoff to pay for it, get caught up in the crossfire.

“Ryan.”

Ryan drags his eyes away from Gavin to look at Geoff. Adrenaline buzzing through him and this bone-deep fear clawing at him because this stupid bastard gave back what Ryan thought he’d lost.  

The only person he’s truly respected enough to follow since the agency burned. (Maybe before then, when Ryan was still lying to himself.)

“...Boss?”

Geoff’s gaze moves between Ryan and Gavin, and he can see the wheels turning in his head, filing information away for later.

He knows about the agency, knows Ryan’s story because they all have ones like that. Pasts where everything fell apart around them leaving them to pick up the pieces and carry on best they could.

“Get me the fuck out of here, buddy,” Geoff says. “I want to go home.”

========

Ryan tracks Gavin when they’re back at the penthouse.

Nods along when Jack and Geoff take him aside and tell him Gavin’s trustworthy, that he’s been one of Burnie’s most trusted people for years now. (That Gavin saved Geoff’s life.)

Makes little noises of assent when they tell him Gavin’s going to be working with them now, and or God’s sake Ryan, please don’t kill him or they’ll have the Roosters to deal with.

When they’re done talking, Ryan goes looking for Gavin, because he’s paranoid enough to worry about history repeating itself here. (Knows it would kill him this time around, too attached to these assholes to be able to go on if something happened to them.)

Six years is a long time, and not long enough.

He finds Gavin talking to Matt. Looking over his shoulder as Matt talks him through this project he’s been working on for the crew. Gavin offering bits of advice and suggestions.

Matt’s grinning up at him, laughter soft and warm, and Ryan’s voice comes out sharper than he means to when he speaks.

“Matt.”

Ryan likes Matt. This stupid kid who is braver than he thinks he is, and so damn smart. Full of potential, and Ryan can tell that Gavin already has him wrapped around his little finger.

That smile Ryan remembers too damn well, soft and harmless and no real threat, honestly.

Matt blinks up at him, confused little frown on his face.

“Ryan?”

Gavin gives Matt’s shoulder a squeeze, flashing him a reassuring smile.

“I think he wants to talk to me,” he says, like Ryan popped by for a quick little chat between friends.

“Uh, okay?” Matt says. “We can pick this up again later, I guess?”

Gavin tells him it’s a promise as Ryan turns and leads the way down to the shooting range. They’ll have something like privacy there, the others smart enough to stay away when Ryan’s off balance like this.

Gavin doesn’t say anything when he realizes where Ryan’s taken them. Tension in his shoulders, the way he watches Ryan carefully.

Just stands there and watches Ryan. Waiting for him to start things off, and it’s -

Painfully familiar.

“Long time no see,” Ryan says, going for light and casual. Nonchalant as hell, because Gavin’s one of them now, isn’t he. On loan from Burnie for the foreseeable future and the thought of what that means terrifies Ryan.

Gavin hums.

“Six years,” he says, like Ryan doesn’t know.

If Ryan didn’t know any better that Gavin is nervous. (As scared about this as he is.)

Six years is a long time.

Changes you.

Gives you perspective on things you never expected, and that’s a bitch of a problem, isn’t it.

Before, Ryan wouldn’t have hesitated to put a bullet in Gavin’s head back in the warehouse, consequences be damned. He would have killed him then and there for what he did six years ago, what he might do now.

Now, though -

Ryan doesn’t fucking know.

Scared as all hell about Gavin being here, so close to the people Ryan’s come to think of as family. This life he’s rebuilt from the ground up, still a work in progress. (That raw, aching wound in his chest where Gavin used to fit so perfectly.)

He knows now, how bad things had gotten with the agency. How immoral and corrupt it had gotten without his realizing.

Too close to see the truth for himself, but aware something had shifted. This growing sense of unease he couldn’t explain, didn’t know who to go to about any of it.

It doesn't excuse what Gavin did because Ryan knows some of the people who died that day were just as in the dark about things as he was. (Doesn’t know why Gavin let him live, when others weren’t offered that mercy.)

But Gavin’s standing in front of him now, isn’t he. Waiting for Ryan’s questions, whatever he has to say like he’s been expecting something like this, so why not ask?

“Why did you spare me?”

Gavin breathes out a quiet little sigh, a laugh that’s anything but amused.

“Should have known you’d start with something like that,” he murmurs.

Ryan waits, lets Gavin get his thoughts in order.

“You know, don’t you?” Gavin asks finally. “What your agency was up to. You know.”

Ryan does.

He’s spent a lot of time wondering what happened to send someone like Gavin to the agency. What horrible things they’d been doing to spur that kind of action.

So much of it in the open by the time Gavin was done, dirty little secrets and awful truths. Shady dealings and worse, the agency digging itself in deeper and deeper as time went on until they left agencies like Gavin’s no other option.

Discovered that the agency had quietly dealt with the agents and staff who’d realized something wrong was going on, had tired to speak out, go to someone who would expose the agencies crimes. (Secrets piling up and only matter of time until they spilled into the open.)

All the files the agency assumed were destroyed in the fires Gavin suddenly appearing in the hands of people who could do something about things. Make sure justice was carried out, or as close to it as possible.

He’d learned that Gavin hadn’t been from MI6, was working for an agency better at hiding its tracks than Ryan was at uncovering them. Ryan looking, and never able to find him again, no matter how hard he looked. (Never really knowing what he would have done if he had, and maybe it’s for the best he didn’t.)

“Newbern found out about me,” Gavin says. “My cover was blown, and I had to finish my mission. Couldn’t risk him deleting anything that would incriminate him or the agency, and it all went pear-shaped on me.”

It sounds like regret in his voice, because a lot of people died that day at Gavin’s hands.

“The agents who broke into the sever room,” Gavin says, eyes darting away from Ryan’s. Talking around the matter of Ryan laying on floor at Gavin’s feet, bullets in his vest and cracked ribs. (Gavin shooting him.) “Do you know who they were?”

Newbern’s favorites. Handpicked and loyal to him before anything else.

“Yeah,” Ryan says, flexing his hands because he remembers all too well.

“They would have killed you,” Gavin says, meeting Ryan’s eyes unflinchingly. “They would have killed you if they thought you’d known what I was up to. If you were working with me.”

Six of them and Gavin had been on the run for almost half an hour by then. Tired and injured with every able-bodied agent available sent after him, and in no condition for a gunfight.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Ryan says, and that sliver of hope he’s never been able to fully shake is still there.

Gavin smiles, this little thing sitting crooked on his lips.

“I’m not that good of an actor, Ryan.”

”You’re smart. You can figure it out,” goes unsaid, but Ryan thinks he knows what Gavin means anyway.

His own disaster of a life aside, Ryan leans in, because he has more important things to worry about now.

“Hurt any of them, and I’ll kill you.”

It’s not a threat, no.

It’s a goddamned promise.

Gavin snorts.

“Wouldn’t expect anything else,” he says, and it comes out sounding fond, of all things. “I’m not here to cause trouble, Ryan.”

That remains to be seen.

========

Gavin settles into the crew well enough as time goes by. Ryan’s both amused and touched at the way the others take care to make sure the two of them are never left along together after that moment in the warehouse.

Someone always around to run interference, worried Ryan might snap and go after Gavin again or vice versa, it’s never really clear.

And Gavin -

Gavin’s too much like the person Ryan remembers from all those years ago, and a complete stranger at the same time.

So many of the old habits, quirks, Ryan remembers and a whole slew of new ones that wreak havoc with what Ryan knows about him, or the things he thought he knew.

He watches the way Gavin interacts with the others, the easy friendship that develops between him and Michael, something a little more complicated with Jeremy. (Damned bizarre with Matt, the way they snap and snarl one moment and conspire like idiot kids the next.)

The sheer chaos that results when he’s around Lindsay, not to mention Trevor and Alfredo.

Watches Geoff treat him like the idiot son he never wanted. Learns to dread the times Gavin and Jack get paired up on jobs because it either turns out to be the best idea Geoff’s ever had or the worst, depending on the day.

This Gavin is more awkward, uncertain, and Ryan’s all too aware of the slow slide into something close to okay again when it comes to him.

Just as Ryan’s watching Gavin in all this, Geoff’s watching him.

Looking out for crew as always.

He doesn’t know the full story surrounding Ryan and Gavin, but he’s smart – clever – enough to piece things together.

Decides Ryan needs to know a few things, when it comes to Gavin.

Waits until the two of them are in a drafty after a heist and Geoff’s stitching him up to bring it up.

Tells him about this kid Burnie picked up a little over six years ago, or really this kid who went to Burnie.

All hollowed out by life, beaten down by it, and he’d heard about Burnie and his Roosters. Went looking for them because he didn’t have anywhere else to go after leaving his life behind.

Soft and quiet and just this little tidbit of information he drops on Ryan like it’s nothing. Inconsequential chatter while they’re stuck here waiting for the heat to die down before heading back to the penthouse.

This idiot kid who sought Burnie out and wormed his way into his good graces. Became an integral part of the Roosters before Geoff stumbled over him and realized he had this look to him like he was thinking of running. Didn’t trust himself around the others, like he thought it was a bad idea that had gone on too long.

Geoff convincing him to give Los Santos a try. See if there was something there for him, city like that.

Ryan wants to ask why Geoff bothers to tell him any of that, but he doesn’t. (He’s not that stupid.)

The timing of things could be something, Ryan thinks. Gavin leaving his agency so soon after destroying Ryan’s, if he just knew why.

“He wanted to leave, you know,” Geoff says, annoyed slant to his mouth as he ties off the last stitch. “No one knew to warn him about you, a few days after the warehouse that little asshole came to me. Said he was very sorry, but he didn’t see things working out – ‘didn’t want to cause trouble’ with my crew.”

Ryan’s eyes narrow, because that’s news to him.

“And then you and Jeremy came back all fucked up from dealing with Vickers leaving us down two idiots. We needed him to stick around until you idiots were back on your feet, and it just never stopped. ”

Things never stop for them, just go from one situation to another and on and on and on until the day they can’t keep up and everything falls apart.

“Geoff - “

“If you want him gone, he’ll go,” Geoff says. “The only reason he stayed this long is because we were short-handed. If you honestly can’t work with him – and I get it, Ryan, I really do – we’ll sort things out.”

Ryan sighs, because it’s too fucking late for that, isn’t it.

Gavin’s taken up the empty spaces in the crew they didn’t even know were there. Fits in with them like he was meant to be there, and on the good days Ryan thinks maybe it can last. (Maybe it’s supposed to be like this.)

“It’s fine,” he tells Geoff, which isn’t quite a lie because it will be, one way or another.

========

Whether Geoff intended for it or not, Ryan looks at Gavin differently after that.

Notices the way Gavin’s been careful to give Ryan the space he needs. Going out of his way to make sure he doesn’t cause problems between Ryan and the others.

It makes it easier for Ryan to work with him. This little pang in his chest the first time he volunteers for a job with him and Gavin throws him a startled look as though he hadn’t expected that.

They work well together on the job, but they always did.

Gavin’s changed, or maybe Ryan’s finally seeing the real him, but some things are still the same.

Ryan knows the others are surprised when the two of them go back to the penthouse. Whole and unharmed and successful job in the bag. (Money passing hands because there’s a pool on the two of them killing each other one day.)

Things evolve from there, bit by bit. Ryan learning to trust that Gavin isn’t going to turn on the crew, which is when Agent 14 calls them up.

Has a little proposition for them. (A little heist, just between friends.)

He knows too much about the crew for them to just ignore him, and when they meet with him it’s obvious he knows exactly who they are. (Who they were before they ended up here in Los Santos.)

Ryan’s skin crawls at the way Agent 14’s gaze lingers on Gavin and himself, seemingly surprise they haven't killed each other yet.

The way he looks at the others, eyeing Geoff and Jack with this little arrogant grin, and a sly smirk for Michael. Wonders at the flicker of regret on his face when he looks at Jeremy.

Tells them all about this little problem of his, and how their help would be greatly appreciated, if they know what he means.

It’s not a blatant threat, with what he knows about them, it doesn’t need to be.

Geoff tells him they’ll think about it, and they head back to the penthouse to figure out what the hell they’re going to do now.

Michael and Jeremy grab beers from the fridge as Jack putters around I the kitchen for a bit. Reappears with diet sodas for Geoff and Ryan, and something a little stronger for himself and Gavin.

“So,” Geoff says, staring down into his glass, nervous and fidgety and strung tight with this unspoken threat hanging over them. “What do you guys think?”

The Fake AH Crew is big enough now that they don’t have to worry so much about every little threat that comes knocking on their door, but Agent 14 is another thing entirely.

Possible ties to the FIB, although from the way he was acting Ryan thinks 14 might be IAA, and either way, they’re not up to that kind of fight just yet.

Michael scowls, not eager to be dragged into some shady government dealings like this, and Jeremy shrugs his shoulders. Unhappy with the state of things, but willing to do whatever Geoff and the others decide.

Jack looks annoyed, and Gavin -

It’s impossible to get a read on him as he sets turns his drink round and round in his hands, seemingly lost in thought.

This problem of Agent 14’s isn’t anything they should get involved in, but 14’s a shrewd bastard.

Knows how vulnerable their position is, and how easily accidents happen. (How the odd will increase if they turn him down now that they know too much.)

To his credit, he seems to favor the softer approach. Offering to pay them well if they succeed, and perhaps more work in the future if they’re amenable.

“Geoff - “ Jack says, angry and frustrated and hating Agent 14 for putting them in this kind of dilemma. Dragging them back into the kind of secrets and shady dealings they’ve worked so hard to leave behind. “This isn’t out business.”

Putting it out there, but his heart isn’t in it, because it’s not that simple.

“Jack’s right,” Gavin says, ignoring the looks he gets from Michael and Jeremy. “We’re not the last resort, Geoff. Just the easiest solution for him.”

Why not lay the blame at the feet of known criminals if things go wrong?

“True,” Geoff sighs. “But I don’t know if I trust these assholes to just go on their merry way if we refuse.”

========

They say yes, because they don’t have any other choice in the matter.

========

Ryan finds Gavin in the armory gearing up, hit by memories of seeing him like this before. Deciding in what weapons and equipment to bring with him, little frown on his face as he debates the merits of each one before making his decision.

Watches as Gavin passes over the body armor hanging up.

Ryan’s eyes narrow because Gavin’s always been careless when it comes to his body armor. Never cinches it tightly enough, like he thinks it won’t matter, and its always been -

They’re headed to McKenzie Field with Michael and Jeremy to...borrow a plane from the Vagos who aren’t exactly the Fake AH Crew’s biggest fans to start with.

Goddammit, Gavin,” Ryan mutters, going over to him because this idiot.

Gavin blinks up at him, startled at his sudden appearance.

“Always were particular about body armor, weren’t you,” Gavin murmurs, and when Ryan looks up, he sees -

Six years ago he thought he’d imagined seeing regret in Gavin’s eyes, but now he’s not so sure about that. Sees it plain as day right now, all bundled up with guilt and remorse and this aching thing Ryan’s all too familiar with seeing in his own reflection.

“Of course I am,“ Ryan says, has to clear his throat when the words come out rough, caught up on things he’s never been able to say because he’s always been a mess when it comes to Gavin. “It could mean the difference between coming home alive or in a body bag.”

He used to tell Gavin that over and over again, helping him with his body armor while Gavin humored him like it wasn’t important. Like Ryan wasn’t right. (Like Ryan didn’t wear body armor every time he went in the field, like he wasn’t wearing it in the server room that day.)

“I am sorry,” Gavin says, so soft Ryan almost doesn’t hear him, but they’re standing so close to one another it doesn’t matter. “I never meant for things to go the way they did.”

With Gavin, so much is in what he doesn’t say, in the things he does.

It would be so much easier to hold things against him, hold on to his anger and hurt, but -

Ryan’s tired of doing that.

Ryan wants to know where the lies end and where the truth begins, see if there’s anything to salvage (if there ever was), because he still loves Gavin. (Never stopped, and that’s what hurt the most.)

Ryan pulls the armor off its hangar and pushes it into Gavin’s hands. Helps him with the straps to make sure it’s snug and secure, will keep safe.

When he looks up, Gavin’s smiling at him, small and crooked and so very resigned like he thinks -

“I’m not that good of an actor, Ryan.”

Fucking Christ, the two of them.

“Yeah,” Ryan says. “Me too.”

Six years and change. New perspectives on things, and it’s still a complicated mess, but he’s working on untangling it. Thinks he might finally be making headway.

“We should talk,” Ryan says, gathering up all the bits of courage he has left to him for this, them. “When this is over. We should talk.”

Gavin stares at him, and for a long, terrifying moment Ryan’s sure he’s going to break his heart all over again, but then Gavin smiles, this little heartbreakingly hopeful thing.

“I’d like that,” he says.

It sounds like the truth to Ryan, and a damn good start.

[thoseofgreatambition]

Gold

a/n: wow! it's been ages since i've written something on here huh? since today is the 20th anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts I thought a fic would be in order. I'm sure a lot will come out today about the wreckage and the wrath that came from the battle, but instead I wanted to focus on the summer that they faced after. I hope you like it.

warnings: mental illnesses, swearing, torture (mentioned) 

pairings: none really (mentions of Romione and Hinny). focuses on the weasleys though

other: based on this song which to me seems all about healing over a long time, and fred lives! au 

MAY

George felt like he'd grown about ten years older in the past three weeks. Watching his twin almost die, being so hyper aware that his whole family could have been wiped out, and entirely sure that the fact that they had all made it out all alive was nothing short of a miracle.

He’d always thought those sorts of ‘existential crisis’’ were a load of rubbish, but here he was having one in the middle of the night. 

He couldn’t sleep. 

How could he sleep? 

Today was the first day that he could bring Fred back to the apartment, after what was almost a huge row with his mother about where would be best for Fred to go. It ended, rather abruptly with Fred roaring from the bed that he didn’t appreciate them trying to make the choice for him, and that he’d rather go sleep in his own damn bed, thank you very much. 

It only took the tiniest bit of wetness in his mother’s eye for Fred to apologize for shouting. 

George sat on the floor of the kitchen, the tile quite cold even through his pajama’s flannel trousers, and he ignored the sound of Ginny snoring on his couch. Tensions had been high. Something George hadn’t expected really. 

He’d thought that things would just go back to normal, or better than normal after the war. 

His father had said something odd to him right after the battle, when George had expressed that same sentiment. 

“Things like this are like a bad knife wound. They hurt a lot more before they get better.” 

George hoped his father was wrong in this case. 

JUNE

Fred tried very hard to be a good brother. He appreciated everything that was being done for him. George had completely thrown himself into caring for Fred, which meant that when he’d needed help dressing himself because his arms couldn’t bend the right way to pull on a shirt himself, George had been the one to help. 

It was kind. 

All of his siblings had been doing things in a similar manner when he’d been bound to his wheelchair. Now though, that he was able to enjoy his mobility a bit more with his cane and the physical therapy he’d been going through, he’d thought that his family would stop hovering over him so much. 

That was not really the case. 

He wanted to snap. Ever since the battle his patience had been worn down to the smallest of things. He found himself flinching at loud noises and often times thinking that he was back to the battle, with the wall right about to crush him once again. 

It made keeping himself calm very hard. 

So when Ron started hovering over him and trying to take care of every little thing that Fred could do easily, Fred almost shouted at his brother. 

But Ron’s eyes stopped him. The bags underneath were sunken and dark, and he was surprisingly pale, even for a Weasley. “Are you alright Ronnie?” 

Ron picked up the books Fred had wanted to put away silently, mulling over his words, “I haven’t been able to sleep much.” 

There weren’t any Weasleys that had been able to sleep well since the battle, so Ron suspected he was in good company. Fred at the very least, could relate. 

“What’s been keeping you up?” 

There were a lot of things Ron wanted to talk about. He wanted to talk about the fact that he could still hear Hermione being tortured. He wanted to talk about the fact that there had been so many nights last year when he’d wondered if any of his siblings were still alive. He wanted to talk about the fact that every day it seemed to settle on him more and more that he’d put their entire family in danger. 

Instead, Ron settled on the easiest thing. The one he could verbalize the most. “I left them.” 

Fred felt himself soften a bit, and sat himself down on the couch, patting the spot next to him for Ron to join him. “You came back.” 

“But I left.” 

“But you came back.” When Ron seemed less than impressed with his response, Fred gave a small shrug until instead of sitting next to him, Ron sat down on the coffee table in front of him. “Ron, I can’t imagine what it was like being gone for that long. Or what you three went through. But if you keep holding onto whatever mistake you made you won’t be able to move on past the war.” 

“How do I do that though?” 

Both were brought back to a long time ago, where Ron would run to the twins for advice. When his voice would shake and he would wonder if he was about to get pranked or get something genuine. 

Fred wished he hadn’t done so much pranking now that he thought back on it. 

“I don’t know Ronnie. I think it’s got to come with time. You know what Mum always talked about, learning from what you’ve done. You’ve definitely done that.” Fred’s voice trailed off, quite aware that his advice was not quite the thing that would help Ron completely heal. “‘m sorry I couldn’t help more.” 

In a last ditch attempt to add in some humor into the situation, Ron simply shrugged, “Don’t worry. As long as you don’t turn anything into a spider I’ll consider this pretty damn helpful.” 

JULY

Ginny shook now. Quaked was more like it. Having people too near her made her cringe, something that was hard to verbalize after being so touchy and in such an affectionate family. She couldn’t quite justify it either. Sure, they’d tortured her as part of the D.A.D.A curriculum the last year, but that was through spells. 

Though that probably explained why the thought of going back to school for her last year had made her vomit once or twice. She was still going to, but goodness did anyone blame her? 

Harry had been quite wonderful about it all. Surprisingly wonderful. Though the more she thought about it the less surprised she was about that fact. Of all the people to understand why she would feel so conflicted was Harry. 

Second most, quite shockingly, was Percy. 

Prodigal son Percy. 

Who was looking at her with more understanding than she could have ever expected. 

“Do you want some tea, Ginny?” 

And yet, he was still Percy. 

“No thanks Perce.” 

His lips drew into a thin line, and Ginny was surprised to see that he and Charlie had the same expression when they were thinking hard about something. “Have you eaten today?” 

There was a small shake of her head. “Not a lot. Some toast. My stomach hasn’t been handling much.” 

“Well, some tea might ply you over until you’re hungry. Better than just toast.” there was probably a more delicate way to discuss this but Percy was fairly sure most of his younger siblings didn’t appreciate the softer touch like he did. “Lack of food is just going to make the shaking worse. So will going without sleep.” 

“And are you able to sleep?” Ginny’s tone came out accusatory, though it looked as if her words had simply rolled off of Percy. Regardless, she faltered. “Percy--” 

“You have to let go.” 

Her brow furrowed. “What?” 

“You have to let go of what happened and what you saw. Don’t forget. Learn from it, but let go. It will poison you if you don’t. It’s not easy to let things go, Ginny. I’m not able to tell you when you’ll be able to do it, or how to, but you need to try and work towards it.” 

Ginny stared at him for a long while. Remembering back to her first year at Hogwarts. She’d tried to tell Percy what was going on with the Diary but hadn’t quite been able to pluck up the right words to explain it. His solution to her feeling so upset-- or rather, having a horcrux on her twenty four hours a day, seven days a week-- was to basically drag her to the Hospital Wing and get her checked out by Madame Pomfrey. 

It was most certainly not the help she needed, but looking back now she could see that Percy had spent quite a bit of time that year watching her health like a hawk. Admittedly, he didn’t know what to look for, but it was a lot like having their Mum at Hogwarts with them. 

“How were you able to let go?” 

“I’m still working on it. I’ve been looking towards the next day the best I can.” when he saw Ginny look confused, Percy continued, “What would you like to do tomorrow?” 

It didn’t take long for Ginny to think about it, “Get on the broom and fly-- maybe a pickup game if we can scramble enough people for it.” 

“Then look forward to that. Write a letter and ask people if they’d like to come to the Burrow, eat something so you won’t faint up there, and put your mind off of things for a while.” 

“Is that really letting go?” 

She could see the doubt on Percy’s face, that he didn’t even try too hard to banish. “It might not be. But it’s how I’m able to get out of bed. And it helps with my shaking too.” 

AUGUST

The Burrow had been loud today. 

The twins had been apparating all over the place, instead of taking the stairs. Fred was using his legs and back as an excuse, which Molly might have bought if it weren’t for the fact that he seemed well enough to chase around one of his products that had gotten loose. 

The house was rather messy, the entire clan was here. The twins, Percy, Charlie, Bill, Fluer, Ron, Harry, Hermione, Ginny-- along with some other friends who were drifting in and out as the day passed for Ginny’s birthday celebration. It was the sort of loud and mess that Molly actually adored. It was the sort of thing that reminded her of when all of her kids still hadn’t gone to Hogwarts yet, or busy summers before the second war had really started. 

She was most certainly going to make her kids help her clean up in the morning, but as she peered into the living room, Molly didn’t have the heart to wake anyone. 

George had the wonderful idea to make the room into a blanket fort. Clearly that was what was needed. Almost all the blankets, sheets and pillows had been pulled from every bed and cabinet or basket to drape around the room. Fred was solidly asleep, spread out on the couch. Even if his legs weren’t hurting too bad she knew how being mobile wore him down. 

Ron and Hermione were sleeping on the floor next to each other, hands locked together as Ron snored very softly into his love’s ear. 

Harry and Ginny were a solid tangle of limbs, and Harry seemed to wake up long enough to remove the long red strands of Ginny’s hair from his face before falling back asleep. 

Fluer was asleep in one of the arm chairs, with Bill curled up nearby. Charlie was closest to the fireplace, one of his old toy dragons not too far away. It had been dug up from one of the linen closets while they’d been extracted blankets and Molly wasn’t sure what she expected. 

The only one awake was George. 

Her sweet boy, who tended to spend more nights awake than asleep. 

She kept her voice soft, “Are you alright Georgie?” 

“‘m alright Mum” he gave her a smile, as he leaned against the fireplace, legs spread out on the rather itchy carpet floor that still managed to irritate him through his flannel pajama pants. “Are you alright?” 

Molly glanced just over her shoulder, to Arthur who she was sure was thinking the same thing she was. Back to the room full of children-- or young adults, she supposed. With the light of the fire she found that everything seemed to be doused in a golden light. Scars seemed softer, dark circles seemed gone, and the glow of innocence seemed back if just for a little while. 

“I’m doing wonderfully Georgie. Try and get some sleep alright?” 

Molly walked away from the living room with some tears in her eyes that she quickly wiped away as Arthur wrapped an arm around her shoulders and a kiss to the corner of her head. “I like seeing them like that, don’t you Molly Wobbles?” 

It took a lot of self restraint for Molly not to laugh too loud and wake up the house, as she gently elbowed her husband. “I missed seeing them like that too. I think time’s doing them well.”

“Time heals all wounds.” Arthur spoke with quite a bit of certainty, though Molly still saw the same look of concern that she had on her own face so often as she watched him look back towards the living room. 

Now it was her turn to put his fears at rest. “They’ll be alright Arthur. Let’s just let them sleep.” with a nod of Arthur’s head, and the gentle touch of Molly’s hand on his shoulder, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley retreated to their bedroom. 

The Burrow fell quiet, and for one of the first times in quite some time, all within it found themselves feeling quite a bit of peace. 

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[goldenmvry]

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒑𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 | 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

full name :  MARY HELOISE MACDONALD. The miracle child named for miraculous women. Mary, for the mother, and Heloise, for the French philosopher with divinity and humanity tied to her name. The Macdonald family thought that perhaps they’d never be given a child, but when she finally came along, she imbibed the household with a light and fervor characteristic only to one destined to be one of those miraculous women. And how right they were. How right they continue to be. 

birth date :  3 March, 1960. Mary is a Pisces, though the confidence attributed to the zodiac sign is, at present, uncharacteristic. Once upon a time, however, she exemplified all the qualities characteristic of her zodiac. gender and pronouns : Mary identifies as cisgender, using she/her pronouns. sexuality : bisexual, biromantic

character traits : [ + ]: EMPATHETIC, INTUITIVE. You will never meet someone more in tune with the human condition, with the struggle so pertinent to the war hanging like clouds atop their heads. On a higher level, Mary is a figurehead for the sort of person the Order fights to protect, but on an interpersonal level - where she truly shines - she simply sees people. She is entirely un-judging, open-minded, a confidant in all aspects. She is understanding in a way uncommon in times such as these, perhaps thanks to the way in which she was raised. Mary is, first and foremost, a kind soul; she loves as deeply as she hurts, and she always does her very best to set aside grudges and see the humanity behind every mask. Oftentimes, this is to her detriment. There are some masks that are simply not meant to be peered beneath. This is, perhaps, what will make her an excellent healer. Bodies can be healed quite easily, but it takes a special touch to mend the wounds inflicted upon a soul. [ + ]: FORGIVING, COMPASSIONATE. Things change. People change. Skills are learned and unlearned as quickly as the weather shifts overhead; this is a fact of life - perhaps it makes her contradictory, perhaps it lessens the purity of her character, but quite frankly she could not be assed to care. Once upon a time, Mary would forgive every slight, would see reason in every wrong. She would do her very best to forgive, to be the forgiveness and understanding that even the most horrid monsters needed. And though, today, she is still as compassionate as she once was, though she remains a kind word and a warm shoulder upon which to lean in times of trouble, she has a harder time forgiving. She can do it, of course; she of all people knows the necessity of healing and forward motion; but a seed of doubt has been planted. Now possessing the capacity to hold a grudge, Mary makes a point to work twice as hard to be forgiving, to be kind, to be understanding. But fuck if it isn’t hard. [ + ]: HARD-WORKING, PERSISTENT. She learned the merit of hard work and persistence before she could hold a wand; before there was the magic of spell-work, there was the magic of blood, sweat, and tears, and this has instilled in her a sense of independence that lends to a work ethic unmatched. She is a workaholic by definition and an obsessive by trade, and will go above and beyond without a second thought in both career and relationships. She has always believed in the power of calloused fingers and tired eyes; and though she is nothing but tired nowadays, nothing but the strange, pulsing, ragged hole between her third and fourth rib, she will run herself into the ground before she allows herself to stop. She is like her mother this way; should she stop, should she teeter off the edge, she will fall into a bottomless pit, the nature of which is not kind. And, without a doubt, hard work is now a coping mechanism - at least it’s productive. 

misc: restless, maternal, overprotective, meek, easily led, holds grudges, identity crisis, spiraling

[ - ]: PESSIMISTIC, FATALISTIC. She’d never have thought that she’d feel such pain, see such vibrant shadows of death, but she’s seen it, and she can’t stop seeing it. Where once she believed she had a destined place at the heart of the Order, with her fate firmly grasped in her own capable hands, she now feels as if she is hurtling toward something horrid and inevitable. Quite often, she wishes she could simply disappear, for there is something thoroughly broken inside of her that she cannot piece back together. She is fearful, angry, living out of her own control - she hates what her life has become, this strange fluctuation between manic action and miserly isolation. Though she does do her best to remain kind, to remain supportive of her friends, of her own dreams, and of her needs, she hurtles toward something terrifying and inevitable, and she no longer feels powerful enough to stop it. [ - ]: PARANOID, AGITATED. There now grows brimstone in Mary’s garden. The attack she suffered has both demolished and set ablaze something terrible inside of her, lighting her from the ribs outward and setting her on a constant knife’s edge. It’s true that she is still kind, still Mary, still the friend they all know and love, but she’s changing with every passing moment. And how can she not, when she sees dark shapes in every corner, horrifyingly familiar faces in every shadow? She’s sleeping less, and this is making her less patient and more on edge; there lives an insatiable itch beneath her skin nowadays, and she snaps more often than she once did. Once upon a time, she was the most patient person in the world. But now, with near-constant knitted brow and deep circles beneath her eyes, she is a shell of her former self, with embers fleeing from between the cracks with every flare of a temper that was not there before. [ - ]: CHANGEABLE, DISTANT. See - Mary’s greatest flaw and her greatest strength is her ability to change. Change is good, for it makes us stronger. However, it does not make strength that lasts when it happens as quickly as it’s happened to Mary. The Mary that stands before you today is a shadow of the Mary we’d all like to know; such horror has befallen her that the once-fiery girl, made of passion and nothing but, is a husk, a mere shadow of what she once was. She is moody, often isolating herself for periods of time. Though she does make efforts to return to herself, to return to that blaze of love and passion that once streaked the halls of Hogwarts, she feels as if she is looking at herself, her old self, from the wrong end of a long tunnel. She is an echo, a hint of what once was. The old Mary is not dead, but she is somewhere far away, difficult to reach. 

affiliation : THE ORDER. It was never a question. What sort of person would she be, to sit on the sidelines while innocents fought and died for people like her? Even if she were the sort to willingly neglect a challenge, which she is heartily not, she would feel a sort of divine duty to her personhood, to her dignity, to her honor to fight for those like her who cannot fight for themselves. And that’s just what it is - honor-bound nature aside, she wishes to aid those who cannot help themselves, who cannot put up walls and hide behind them from what is yet to come. She is a staunch advocate of squib rights, goblin equality, and the like; it’s only natural that she would be a very vocal member of the Order. Her skill set and experiences lend her to be an excellent healer, rather than someone out on the front lines - though people change. Times change. Necessity is predestined to change. 

     plot lines :

[ LIVE TOGETHER, DIE ALONE ]: As I’ll mention in her bio, Mary’s involvement in the Order is honestly everything to her. It’s become somewhat of an obsession, to be frank, and as a thoroughly independent and strong-minded person (beneath all the fear, of course), she isn’t going to let anyone shield her from being involved in the Order. Even broken dolls have sharp edges. She was alone when she was attacked, and so has found comfort and strength in being by the side of other Order members. Mary knows the cool, bitter taste of solitude, for the attack alienated her in a way she’d never thought possible, and she never intends to feel that again. I want her to throw herself wholeheartedly into the Order, and feed the obsession that’s going to propel her forward.

[ THE SHAPE OF THINGS TO COME ]: There is an enormous storm coming - there’s no denying this. And even though Mary had an ever so short stint in the Dueling Club, she isn’t exactly the most proficient fighter in the bunch. Though her healing abilities are unmatched, she could stand to use a little help in defending herself - and in going on the offensive when necessary. I would really like for Mary to seek out some help in this department, if only so that she can defend herself more proficiently - be it a Neutral or someone in the Order, I think that she could really benefit, even mentally, from being able to toughen up a little.

[ I AM WHAT YOU MADE ME ]: This is a total given, but I obviously would really like to explore Mary’s relationship with Avery and Mulciber. She hates them more than she thought she could ever hate another human being, and not just for what they did to her - but for what they stand for in the grand scheme of their current world state. I want her to be able to confront them directly - and not in just a crossed-wands sort of way. The damage they inflicted on her was more psychological than physical, as they are the source of the fear that cripples her, and is making her very much not herself. She doesn’t know what she will do when she faces them again, and that’s something that will surely come with time, development, and input from whoever plays them, so I’ll just leave this idea dangling here, ready to turn into something twisted, dark, nasty, and hopefully therapeutic.

[ HEALING HANDS THAT NEVER FAIL ]: Despite the title of this section, I can’t help but wonder what might happen if Mary fails to heal someone. She has a really spotless track record as it stands now, but I can only imagine how it might wreck her should she not heal someone as well as she could have. What happens when someone dies in her care? What happens if her hands shake a little too much? She’s already precarious enough as it is, and though it’s quite masochistic for me to want to wreck my own characters, but I can’t help but be curious about what might face Mary as she continues to heal, both in the hospital and on the field. And in that same vein - what might happen if she were to have to heal her own mother? 

[ FALTER, FALL, FAIL ]: In that same vein, I would like to see Mary heal just as much as I would like to see her struggle with overcoming fear in the name of regaining her warlike strength. I wonder if perhaps the act of regaining it might taint the purity of her strength, for no one can stay truly pure in a war such as this. All snow mixes with dirt, all masks lose their luster. And when someone as pure as Mary passes through something as morbidly dubious as that - there’s no way she’ll return to herself completely unchanged. She’s trying so hard to regain her strength, her fire, her whole self, just as it was - but what if it returns different? 

[ AN UNCLEAN WEAPON ]: Fear marks her entirely; there is no Mary without a hint of fear behind every breath. She wishes she had a weapon to use against them, something they’d never expect her to use. But maybe she does. I am fully aware of how far-fetched this idea is, and how far down the road it might be - and how shallow we would wade into this pool before Mary would turn back with her conscience bugging her to run as far away as she could. She wonders if it would be possible to dip her fingers into the pool of the knowledge of dark magic, if only to use its secrets against the Death Eaters. She’d never wield it herself, she knows this; but in her most desperate moments, in the middle of the night, when she sits awake in a cold sweat, on the threshold of a nightmare, she wonders if it might turn the tide. Same weapon, different hand - Mary can only wonder if it might not be so evil after all. But I highly doubt she could wield the same magic that hurt her so; that’s just not her nature.

     biography :

There is a house on a hill in which her heart lives - in which it will always live. It all began with the house, within the daisy-colored walls and fluttering curtains, the smell of the herb garden outside the first sensation to herald the arrival of the first and last Macdonald child, though it was not for a lack of trying. She was born hollering at the top of her lungs to a man and his wife, but she only ever knew the latter, for her father left the house on the hill, the herb garden, the tire swing on the willow tree in favor of a woman neither Macdonald woman had ever cared to meet. She never knew her father, never saw his face; he’d send letters at holidays, and before Mary was too old to understand what the little parcel with her name upon it meant, her mother would hide them away, insisting that Mary had not been born of a man, but of a fairy, and that she belonged among them. It was a story to thrill any young girl - but thrilling and fantastical tales can only thrill and fantasize for so long before the world catches up, before the reality seeps through the cracks.

And thus has been the tune of Mary’s life - reality seeping through cracks unable to be plugged up, unwilling to budge.

But though she wouldn’t know it for years to come, her childhood was an empowering one, a lively one; not the picture-perfect textbook ideal of a family, but Mary thought it better than that. She was a cacophony of sundresses and skinned knees, tree-climbing and flower-planting, for it was but she and her mother in that house on a hill - her mother who acted more as a best friend than anything restricting. Mary was, from the start, incredibly protective of her mother, for the way she saw it, she had been born to replace the man fated to leave them - though she’d never forgive him for making the decision to bow to fate. She took up the role of protector and provider in the household, even as a young girl, for her mother’s flower shop seemed to amass less and less business by the day. Helping in the garden, collecting mushrooms in the wood just beyond the house, pulling her mother from her bed and leading her out into the garden to watch her swing on days when dear Elizabeth Macdonald simply could not rise. She was the sun, this miracle baby, and she burned too brightly. She was a creative force as well as a destructive one, nurturing and protective of her mother, while being outspoken and brash in the face of those who would underestimate a single mother and her child.

A strange child, around whom strange occurrences befell any close enough to see. It earned her a bit of a reputation, this oddness. But she minded it not.

Even before she was old enough for it to be entirely appropriate - though she had never been one to live by the bounds of her age or stature - Mary took a job riding her bicycle on a route between the neighboring villages - with the house on the hill nearly always in sight - as a courier, carrying odds and ends for the various shop-keeps in town. It was a seemingly idyllic life, to spend the day out in nature and the evenings at home with her mother, with days in between which consisted of nothing but frivolity in the yard, the garden, playing dress-up in Elizabeth’s closet; Mary studied in her free time, leaving the books her father left behind and that her mother brought home from customers and friends at the flower shop. Though her mother insisted she attend the all-girls’ school in the next town over, Mary insisted she remain at home, for she worried at the thought of leaving her mother unattended for so long. And so Elizabeth consented to educate her within their home, as Elizabeth herself had been taught by her own mother. Mary was unconcerned, in her younger years, with continuing her book-bound education, but was more enthralled by what the world had to teach her. But as her mother read from history books and assigned her trips to the library, Mary discovered a passion for learning, and a need to see what learning could do for the betterment of her life - her life; perhaps the first time she had thought of the future in the singular.

The realization came at an apt enough time, for on the eve of her eleventh birthday her mother thought it apt to reveal a box full of hidden letters, packages, trinkets from a father she had never met. It felt the ultimate betrayal, and in her anger Mary set the box aflame, right there in the middle of the sitting room. She and her mother stared at it in utter horror before the both of them leapt upon it - and then as if by magic, the fire extinguished, leaving Mary with nothing but ash upon her birthday dress, and a small char at the ends of her hair. It was at this that all the strange occurrences seemed to fall into place, for as the clock struck midnight an owl appeared at the kitchen window, beckoning to Mary as if it had known her all along.

Her mother embraced Mary’s magic as if she herself possessed the ability; both women expressed a bit of indignation at the plebeian sound of the word “muggle”, for Mary thought her mother much better than a generalization. But the utter wonder of the new world which unfolded before her seemed a reward for eleven years of premature adulthood at her mother’s side; she was suddenly allowed to be a child in utter wonder, suddenly born into a universe as fresh and unaware as the day she’d arrived at the house on the hill.  It felt as if she stepped into a second, more appropriate skin, the storm of energy and vibrance that had always been her signifier suddenly arriving at a home that befitted it. In a moment of pride, she mused that she perhaps had always been to much for a normal life, that she deserved this —

— but what would become of her mother when she left?

It was both the most selfish and the most wonderful thing she had ever done, leaving for Hogwarts. Her mother encouraged it, pushed her forth, for she could see Mary’s untamed wildness, her unconventional start, her unrefined nature, as something that would become her here. It suddenly did not matter that she didn’t have a proper education, that she had only clothes hand-stitched by her mother, that her life had been nothing but filling and mending a void left behind by a father; she felt, for the first time, both quelled and enlivened. She saw greatness before her, like a trinket dangling in a shop window - and thus the brightness of her nature exploded into a thousand suns.

What she was unprepared for, however, was how out of place so many would go through efforts to make her seem. She knew nothing of the wizarding world, of this universe that had merely been waiting for her; no matter how much wonder became her, there was always a voice, always a looming presence, pointing fingers and insisting that she did not belong. Mary was not the only one, of course; it seemed as if a small collective of students, all from the Slytherin house, were determined to belittle those who came from non-magic families.  And while some would have wilted beneath it - and, Mary noticed with chagrin and anger, some did - the criticism only made her louder, more brash, more competitive. It was at their taunting that she was pushed to join every club, to study her hardest, to battle her way through every obstacle to show them, to show herself (to show her mother, in all the letters written home) that not only was she the equal of the purebloods - she was better. And she felt it, for a time. She flourished once she broke from the shell of shock at her arrival; Mary made friends easily, for she was an extroverted, opinionated, loud entity of pure light. Not a wilting flower, not a fixture in a garden, but the very sun itself.

However, all lights fade. She didn’t think she’d believe it; Mary had always been the sort to think the light of the deserving, the true, the kind, to be unbreakable, unfettered. She thought herself untouchable, and for a time she thought it her own fault. But the attack she suffered, at the hands of two purebloods who had antagonized her in the past, was in no way her fault. Never had she felt such a victim, never had she felt so small. She had never been the sort to hide from what ailed her, but as she hid away in the Hospital Wing, shrinking at every flickering light, flinching from every touch, she thought that perhaps the safety of the anonymous shadow befitted her much better than the glaring sun. Mary did not write home about this to her mother, but merely pretended that all was as usual; her letters were much shorter, more concise, and no longer signed by her name with the doodle of a small flower, and so her mother knew that something was wrong.

But she’d never say it aloud. Even in the world of magic, the undeserved guilt of the victim is crippling.

And so her days became marked, once she returned to her classes, by sideways glances, wide berths, and muted colors. Her marks slipped, her enthusiasm dimmed; evenings once spent in clubs, with friends, in the grounds, now turned to nights tucked away in far corners of the library and the Gryffindor common room. She hated herself for being weak, hated herself for being afraid, hated herself for not fighting back - but not once did she hate herself for the reasons that they hated her. Perhaps this was the only hint that they had not extinguished her fire entirely, for she was stuck in the shadow for the remainder of her Hogwarts career.

Leaving school, however, meant a broader world, and more opportunity to step into the sun again. Joining the Order without question, as she entered into a training program at St. Mungo’s, seemed the perfect alignment of the stars. Many of her friends joined the Ministry, entered into programs to become Aurors and Hit Wizards; they often asked why she had chosen to heal rather than to fight. At this, she could only think of evenings spent in the Hospital Wing, long after her accident in her last year of schooling, aiding Madame Pomfrey in the healing of injuries oh so similar to her own. It was also a sort of personal challenge; she could see Avery and Mulciber scorched upon the backs of her eyelids whenever she closed her eyes, and by healing those who’d met their own personal demons, she could work to scrub them away.

And yet, she still dreamed of fighting back. Sometimes, in her dreams, she killed them. When she awoke, she thought she would be remorseful - but she was not.

Remaining in St. Mungo’s, under the safe umbrella of the hospital’s protection, was never enough, despite her fear - or perhaps because of it. She spoke to Dumbledore privately about healing in the field, for she could not stand the thought of her friends, those she loved so dearly, fighting and dying, without her at their side. They looked at her like a fragile, broken marionette, giving her a wide berth while putting themselves between her and harm’s way whenever they could. No matter how crippling her fear, her love for her friends, for the cause, and for those who did not have it quite as lucky as she did gave her the certainty that she needed - to find the strength again, to step into the sun, to return to something bigger and better than her former self. She always fought for what was right, always fought to protect - from her mother to her friends - but the violence characteristic of so many had never touched her. She could heal in the field, and then return to the hospital. She could stand alongside her friends, alongside the Order - and then perhaps she could see it up close when those who wronged her fall on the battlefield.

She would quite like to have a hand in the assured destruction characteristic of righteous justice. She could not save the world, in the meantime, but she could save the soul in front of her, if she worked fast enough.

Every week, however, she takes a moment for softness, that which has left her so. She travels, with galleons and sickles changed into muggle money, and sends a letter to her mother, hand-written and wrapped in a wad of cash. She likes to imagine that, even as the war wages on in her world, in her mother’s there is still a flower shop and a little house on a hill.

[joeybelle]

Starlight - Chapter 21

Relationship: Cassian Andor / Original Female Character

Rating: Mature

Tags: Pre-Rogue One, Romance, Feels, Hurt-Comfort

“Doctor Enoch, there’s a message for you,” said one of the guards, poking his head through the automatic doors of the med bay and handing her an official looking envelope with the Rebel Alliance crest printed on it.

Cora furrowed her brows in confusion, but took the letter, thanking the messenger. She turned to Doctor Crane once the guard left the med bay. The doctor was sat at his desk, going over some patient files on his data-pad, looking positively bored.

“What is this?” she asked, holding the envelope between two fingers, like it was going to bite her. “Why are they sending me official looking papers? Is this their way of telling me they want me gone?”

Doctor Crane snickered. “I doubt it, your services are still very much needed,” he said, throwing her a glance over the data-pad in his hands.

“Is it a death sentence, then?” she continued, ripping open the letter. “Doctor Corinthia Enoch… blah blah blah…” She started reading, her enthusiasm diminishing with every passing second. “We inform you that…” Her face, previously scrunched in confusion suddenly turned into a grimace. “Ok, fuck.”

“What does it say?” The doctor took off his reading glasses and put the data-pad down, ready to tackle whatever crisis may arise.

“Well, it says that if I want to keep being assigned to off-world missions in case of emergency I have to pass a combat skill assessment.”

“Oh, just that? It’s just a routine thing for everyone who, like you, may go into combat from time to time. They just want to check if you still know the basics. I wouldn’t worry if I were you,” he said, putting his glasses back on.

“I worry,” she said, taking a seat on the other side of the desk. “I haven’t been thought proper combat training since… hell, since I left the DA team,” she said, running her fingers over her chin. “That was like… more than a year ago. Oh, Lord, time flies,” she said, with the air of someone who just woke up from a year-long coma.

“You’ll do fine!” He dismissed her worries with a vehement wave of hand. “You’ve had years of training and one never really forgets what they’ve learned.”

“But it’s in less than a week,” she whined. “And I’m completely out of shape,” she said counting on her fingers, “I haven’t shot a blaster in months, hell, I’ve only went to the shooting range twice since I’ve been here, I haven’t been in a battle simulation in more than a year. Besides, I have no idea what is required for such an assessment.” She sighed and rested her chin on the edge the desk, fidgeting with a pencil.

“Why don’t you ask Captain Andor?”

“How would he know?” she asked, moving her head slightly so she could look at the doctor. Was he in the assessment board? If so, could he be bribed?

“He’s been training new recruits for years, he’s bound to know.”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” he mumbled. “Plus, if you’re really worried about the test, he could help you with some training sessions.”

“I couldn’t ask,” she said, propping her head into her palm.

“And why not?”

“He’s busy.”

“How do you know that?”

“He’s always busy,” she said, and there was a barely noticeable trace of sadness in her voice.

“You won’t know until you ask,” he said in a friendly, but earnest tone. “Don’t be afraid to ask your friends for help, Cora.”

She knew he was right, but at the same time, she hated the idea of being a burden. She’d spent so much of her life facing every challenge alone, that asking for help somehow felt weird. But she also knew that isolating herself whenever she had a problem wasn't the way to go.

“I’ll ask him about the requirements,” she decided. “I’ll need some training, but I think I can handle that on my own.”

“As you wish,” the doctor said from behind the data-pad. “However, you should leave early today,” he suggested. “See if you can find Cassian tonight. If he can’t help you out, I’m sure he’ll be able to at least point you in the right direction.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll do that,” she said, still nervously fidgeting with the pencil.

But despite leaving work early, the sun was already setting when she headed towards the training grounds. Doctor Crane had asked a few people during a break and found out that Cassian was currently tasked with teaching survival techniques in case of forced landings to a bunch of new pilots, and could be found somewhere around the training grounds. So Cora left work a little early, changed out of her medical uniform and into something a little more comfortable, she hoped, gathered all her courage, which wasn’t that much, and went to search for Cassian.

She found him near the landing strip, explaining something to a couple of pilots that could have been the new recruits, even though some looked a lot older than Cassian. Cora waited patiently until he dismissed them, before approaching him with a weak smile on her face.

“Good evening, Doctor,” he said, smiling back at her with a little more confidence. “What can I do for you?” Professional and direct, as always.

“I received this today,” she said, handing him the paper. She had shoved it into her pocket, so now it was a crumpled mess. “Doctor Crane said that you might know what exactly is required during such an assessment.”

Cassian took the paper and silently read it. There was a slight frown on his face, like he was concentrating a bit too much on what he was doing, a frown that Cora had noticed didn’t usually leave his face when he was working. When they were alone, however, it was a different story.

They didn’t spend every night together since he came back to base, after the Samarkand fiasco, but they did, one way or another meet every day. And it wasn’t just bumping into each other at the coffee machine, no, he diligently came in for his checkups, but only if she was working that day, and didn’t bolt out the door the moment she was done with changing the bandages; he sat with Lewella and her at lunch, especially since Melshi had come back and joined them too; they played Sabacc in their underground bar when some of the others came back, and although Cora lost every game she played, she had too much fun to care; and sometimes, she’d hear a light, but insistent tapping at her door at night.

“Basically,” he said, handing her back the paper, “you just show up, shoot in the general direction of the target without injuring anyone and you’ve passed.” He looked at her with a soft smile on his lips. The golden light of the sunset his his face in all the right places, making him glow. For a moment, he looked so surreal that Cora almost forgot to breathe.

“I think you’re being a little too optimistic,” she laughed, shoving the paper back in her pocket.

“About the assessment, or about you not injuring anyone,” he joked.

“Both I guess?” She shrugged. “I haven’t had any proper training in months and I doubt Draven’s gonna let me off the hook that easily, he’s always been against me doing anything.”

“Draven’s not going to be there,” he said, full of confidence. “And besides, combat medics and doctors are too valuable to deny them to work for us.”

“Maybe, but they won’t let me go off-world if I don’t pass,” she said, looking away, a wave of shame slowly creeping over her no matter how much she tried telling herself there was nothing to feel ashamed about. Some doctors, like Aidan, dar absolutely no military training or just refused to go into combat, and they still did a great job on base. No one ever judged a doctor for not going into battle, and even though she knew this wasn’t part of the deal she’d made with the Alliance, she still felt like it was part of her duty.

“I thought you didn’t like confrontation.”

“I don’t, but… I just wanted to help, you know,” she shrugged.

She was still afraid of having to go into battle and of the horrors it brought, she still had nightmares of the things she had seen while working for the Empire, and even worse ones about the things she hadn’t seen but imagined. And right now she felt part of the fight, so she wanted to take an active part in it. Now she understood, from the stories others had told her, just how sheltered she had been all her life, and how little she knew about the cruelty of the Empire. And she felt somewhat responsible for being blind to it all. Because no matter how long she denied it, if she had really wanted to know what was going on, she could have just looked out the window. But she didn’t, because it was easier to silence her conscience that way.

Over time she had learned the stories of the ones that had willingly joined the Rebellion, and she couldn’t pretend to be blind anymore. She had to admit that the Empire was a terrifying place, and once she did so, she couldn't stay passive anymore, she couldn’t be an accomplice of the Empire any longer. She had to do something.

“I’ll train you,” Cassian said. “If you want.”

Cora looked at him. He didn’t really seem the type of person to offer something just to be polite. But she also knew that he was the type of person that would bend over backwards to help the people he cared for, so she really hoped he had the time for it and she wouldn’t be too much of a burden.

“If you’re not too busy…” she replied, still a little unsure.

“I have too much time off these days.” He smiled, but Cora didn’t believe him. He always seemed to be busy with something. “Follow me.”

“Now?”

“Why not? The night is young. Do you have anything else planned?”

“No,” she had to admit. She had zero social life.

The sun had gone down and the landing strip was becoming darker by the second, the last reminder of the warm, golden light that bathed them a few minutes before was now staining the horizon. There was something a little frightening about nights outside, surrounded by nature. It felt like everything was alive and moving and who could know what those shadows were hiding. But Cora diligently followed him, telling herself that she wasn’t in fact scared, just a little apprehensive.

The training grounds extended far into the jungle—exactly how much, Cora didn’t know because she had never ventured past the perceived edges of the base. Unknowingly, she’d stayed into the perimeter that had once been dictated by the restraining bracelets. Fortunately, Cassian guided her towards one of the metal warehouses built just at the edge of the rainforest.

“What’s your weapon of choice?” he asked, turning on the lights.

Cora blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the sudden shift in light intensity. The warehouse interior was designed to be a small shooting range, complete with moving targets. The whole setup looked familiar, although it wasn’t as big and new as the ones she had seen in the Empire.

“Standard,” she replied. “E-11. And DLT-19x if needed.”

“You were a sniper?”

“Not a good one. But I had steady hands and lots of patience,” she said, wiggling her fingers, “so they tried making one out of me. Could also hold my pee for long periods of time. But now it seems my hands are better suited for surgeries.”

Cassian smiled and handed her a blaster. “We’ll see. Load the blaster and shoot your first target,” he said, and his voice sounded authoritative. She kinda liked it.

“Sir! Yes, Sir!” she smiled, and did as she was told.

The weapon felt cold and foreign in her hands, even though its outline was familiar. The process of loading it was done almost automatically, but she had to fiddle a little to get the ammo in its slot. She remembered that a long time ago she could do it in complete darkness, upside down, submerged in water or in the middle of a sandstorm, and it stung a little bit knowing that she had lost that dexterity. But she was no longer a soldier, she had to remind herself. She was still in the military, but she was no longer a soldier.

She hit the target with ease, the gun recoiling slightly in her hand. It wasn’t a perfect shot, but it was pretty close. A non-moving target that wasn’t that far away wasn’t a problem for Cora, even with almost no training.

“Not bad,” said Cassian.

“Well, I was part of the training program for three years, they wouldn’t have kept me for so long if I was completely crap.”

“Why did they let you go then? They could have just denied your transfer.”

“I can’t handle stress very well, apparently, and they noticed it. Whenever there was a slight chance that I might get shot, well, let’s say that I lost all capacity to think…” she said, looking down at the blaster, the black gun feeling heavier in her hand. “I wasn’t very good at shooting people either.”

“That’s the whole job description.”

“Wrong career choice. Some people choose journalism, I chose the military.”

Cassian snickered and pressed some buttons on a control panel.

“Let’s see how good are with moving targets.”

“Not great,” she said, sighing.

And she wasn’t. She hit 12 out of 20, and with the last ones, the ones that moved really fast, she wasn’t even close. She sighed and turned to Cassian with a sour look on her face.

“This is why I am telling you that I’m not going to pass the assessment,” she said, handing Cassian the blaster.

“You will pass it,” he said, pushing the blaster back into her hand. He seemed really convinced of it.  “I can help you pass it if you want,” he offered. “But you have to realize that if you do, you will have to go into battle sooner or later. Even though you won’t be required to be on the front-lines, you never know what you may stumble onto. Until now, both of your off-world missions have been pretty eventful, to say the least.”

Cora snorted. “They didn’t advertise the job properly.”

“It’s up to you if you want to keep doing it. You could just do your job here, on base.”

“Do I have a choice? With so little personnel, every…”

“You always have a choice,” he said, and the look in his eyes became a little darker. “Don’t ever blame it on others.”

Cora felt a lump forming in her throat. He was right, once again. She had to take responsibility for her own actions. Trying to shift the blame onto someone else did not make you less responsible for your decisions.

“Yeah, I want to do it. I’m not sure I can, though.”

“I can help you with that too, up to a point. Get you back into shape,” he said with a stern look on his face. “But what you do in the field, that’s up to you.”

“You make it all sound so ominous,” she joked, trying to break the serious atmosphere, not wanting to have to admit that she may never be able to hold her own in an actual fight, no matter how determined she was to try. “You must be fun at parties.”

“I’m very fun at parties,” he said in the same serious tone, his face not moving any additional muscle, and Cora couldn’t help but laugh. She stifled the urge to put the gun down, run her fingers through his hair and kiss him until she lost her breath. “Shall we try this again?” he asked, waking Cora up from her daydreaming.

“Yeah, let’s do this.” She got into position and waited for Cassian to start the machine.

“Be a little more patient this time. You don’t have to shoot them the moment they come into view. Most of them move slowly enough for you to have time to take aim properly,” he instructed. “The targets come at random, but they use they same algorithm. Do this enough and you’ll see that after a while you’ll be able to predict where the next target will show up. Ready? Go!”

Cora tried her best to follow his advice, but she still rushed into shooting the targets as they showed up. After a few more rounds though, she was able to keep her impatience a little more in check, so she hit a few more. With each passing try she was getting more and more used to the strange feeling of having a blaster in her hand once again after so many months of not touching a gun. When Cassian told her to stop, she was able to hit an average of 17 out of 20 targets.

“You did good tonight,” he told her as he was putting the blaster back in its place in a metal case.

“Could have been better,” she said, massaging her arms. She found out she was more out of shape than she’d previously thought, but it was no surprise. With long, tiring shifts almost every day, she really didn’t feel like hitting the gym in her time off. “I used to be able to hit all the targets.”

“You’ll get used to it,” he reassured her, patting her shoulder. “I’m not teaching you anything new, you already know everything I’m telling you. You just need a little time to remember.”

“Will I have enough time until the assessment?”

“Forget about the assessment,” he said, his hand still heavy on her shoulder. “You don’t have to worry about that, I keep telling you. That is just child’s play.” With a smile he took his hand off her shoulder and went back to putting things away. “But if you want to train anyway, I’ll meet you here tomorrow.” Cora nodded enthusiastically and Cassian snickered. “When is your next shift?”

“Tomorrow, in the afternoon. Im probably going to be at work past midnight.”

“Then I can meet you here in the morning, if it’s not too much for you.”

“How early?”

“Whenever you want.”

“Sunrise?” she asked in a burst of enthusiasm that she instantly regretted.

“Fine by me.”

“Really?” She half expected/half hoped he’d politely decline and suggest a more reasonable hour, but it seemed that Cassian wasn’t too bothered by it. “Do you ever sleep?” she asked, leaning a little closer to him, but not quite touching.

“As if you didn’t know,” he said, smiling sheepishly and Cora wanted to just grab his cheeks and kiss him. But she didn’t because even though she was pretty sure there was no one around to see it, it wasn’t a thing people usually did in public, and she wasn’t sure Cassian would be ok with that. Overthinking again.

“I’ve never actually seen you sleep,” she said, leaning into his frame, placing a hand onto his shoulder and watching him place the ammo into another case.

“That’s only because you fall asleep first,” he smirked. “And speaking of sleeping, you should go to bed as soon as possible. You’ve had a long day and it’s late.”

Cora had to cover her mouth to stifle a yawn. “I’ll have to go through the mess hall first, I completely forgot to get dinner, and I sort of skipped lunch as well…”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked, the frown back between his eyebrows.

“I forgot. You’d be surprised how easily stress can suppress your appetite.” She shrugged. “Unfortunately, I’m not sure the mess hall’s still open at this hour. There’s someone bringing food to the night shift, but I’m not sure they make any extra.” It wasn’t that big of a problem, she was sure she still had some energy bars in her room since she always had some on hand for a quick snack when she was too busy at work, but a normal meal would be nice before going to sleep.

“I know someone we can talk to,” Cassian said, guiding her outside and locking the door behind them.

The sky was perfectly clear for once, so Cora could see the myriad of stars once again. It was a beautiful night, some of the usual humidity having lifted, the air feeling unusually crisp and refreshing. Cassian stood next to her, his hands in his pockets, silently admiring the view.

“They look different from down here,” she said. “They’re just as beautiful nonetheless.”

“Yes, they are,” he said, still looking at the sky, the content look on his face softening his features. Cora smiled, looking at him, a warm fuzzy feeling taking over.

“Let’s go find something to eat before we self-digest,” she said starting to walk towards the hangar, hoping he wouldn’t notice the blush that had crept over her cheeks.

They walked into the building and guided by Cassian, they found their way into the kitchens through one of the back doors. Cora had never been there, only caught passing glimpses through the swinging doors when they brought the food to the mess hall. It was a fascinating and foreign new territory, since she’d never been to an army kitchen before, or at least, not that she could recall. Truth be told, she hadn’t been much in normal kitchens either, since all her life she had eaten canteen food.

The kitchen was spotless and well organized, something she found a bit surprising seeing as everything seemed to be on a different level of chaos on base. There was only one man in the whole kitchen, placing some vegetables into a huge tray.

Cassian approached the large man, and Cora followed closely behind, feeling a little out of place. She smiled as Cassian greeted him and asked if there were any leftover food for them.

“Depends,” he replied in a heavy accent that Cora couldn’t pinpoint, after looking them up and down for a few moments. “Are you on a date?” The question was followed by a huge smile, baring more teeth than Cora thought possible to be in only one person’s mouth. Something told her he wasn’t fully human, but she couldn’t tell for sure.

“No,” Cassian replied, with his usual air of nonchalance. Cora, on the other hand, nearly choked on her own saliva. Did they look like they were on a date? Probably, why else would they be together at that late hour. “Just hungry,” Cassian explained.

The cook looked at them once again, then turned back to his tray of vegetables. “Then you’ll have to cook for yourselves. Whatever you find in the kitchen is yours to use, but don’t make a mess.”

“But what if we were on a date?” Cora asked, unable to stop herself, curiosity getting the best of her.

“Same thing,” the cook said, throwing her a brief, toothy smile over his shoulder, “but you know, with some lit candles and stuff.”

Cora snorted, crossing her arms over her chest and following Cassian with her eyes. He was already looking through the cupboards, and seemed to be feeling quite at home.

What if it were a date, she wondered. She had never been on an actual date before, her lifestyle never allowed it, although she considered their outing on Samarkand a sort of date. It was the start of whatever they had right now. And what they had might not have been much, but to her, it was special. So yeah, a candle lit dinner would have been nice. Was it too late to ask?

“Do you want to make something?” Cassian asked, pointing towards the stove.

“No, I don’t know how to cook,” she blurted out, feeling her cheeks redden with embarrassment when the only two pairs of eyes in the room fixed on her. “I never had to learn,” she mumbled apologetically, hoping she didn’t sound too much like an entitled aristocrat.

“Then I’m going to make you one of my special omelettes,” Cassian said with a cheeky smile, completely disregarding her confession. Cora let out a sigh of relief, and nodded. “It’s probably one of the best you’ll have on base.”

“Now you’re just bragging,” the cook said, shoving the huge tray in one of the even bigger ovens. “I know you’re trying to impress, but you learned to cook in the slums, and it shows. She ought to have more refined taste.” He grinned, and Cora could tell it was just that sort of friendly teasing that happened between manly men, but for a fraction of a second Cora could see a shadow clouding Cassian’s features, so she really wanted to kick the cook in the shins.

“If I can survive on canteen food, I can eat anything,” she shot back. “My taste buds are already numb, I can’t even remember what real food tastes like.”

“Ouch! She’s mean!” the cook said, smiling broadly, looking like he wasn’t in the least bothered by the insult. And even if he was, he kinda deserved it. (Also the food was really bad. She most likely wasn't the first one that told him that.) He fiddled with the oven knobs for a moment before straightening his back, enjoying the cracking sound it made. “I’m gonna go take a shower until these things cook,” he said, pointing towards the oven. “Make sure not to burn the place down before I come back.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time that happened,” Cassian mumbled, loud enough for the cook to hear.

“Be careful, kid.”

Cora waited until the cook left the kitchen before leaning on the counter next to Cassian, watching him pull out different ingredients from a huge fridge.

“Did you set the kitchen on fire before?” she asked.

“Not me. He did,” he smirked, a little devious. “But not this kitchen, it happened on another base.”

“And he’s still employed? How did he manage to do that?”

“Left the oven unsupervised.”

“Should have guessed it,” she laughed. “What are you making?” She leaned a little closer, looking at the unfamiliar ingredients. She recognized the potato and eggs, but the rest of the vegetables she couldn’t identify.

“Umm, nothing fancy,” he said, scratching the back of his head and looking a little embarrassed. She guessed that the comment made earlier by the cook had curbed his enthusiasm a little. “Just something quick.”

“Quick and filling are my favourite things,” she said, pressing a hand on her stomach, trying to make it stop rumbling. Well, that phrase could be interpreted in more than one way… “Is there anything I can help you with? I’ve never cooked before, but if you show me what to do, I promise to stitch the ensuing cut fingers myself.”

Cassian laughed, and started peeling some of the vegetables. “There isn’t much you can help me with,” he said, and Cora felt relieved. Although she wanted to help, she really didn’t want her lack of skill to be on display. She was sure Cassian wouldn’t laugh at her, after all he didn’t laugh at her when she was in target practice, but seeing herself fail again today wasn’t really needed. So instead she was happy to watch Cassian, who seemed to be just as skilled at peeling potatoes as he was at shooting guns.

Although she could see that being grounded was making him restless, having some time off was doing him good. He had put on a little weight, her professional eye told her. Not too much, he wasn’t going to get a beer belly anytime soon, but his cheeks didn’t look as sunken in as they did so many times when he came back from his missions. She could feel it when they were sleeping together, his bones didn’t seem to be sticking out as much and he felt heavier when he rested on top of her. Also, he seemed to smile a lot more.

When she first met him, so many months ago, she didn’t think he ever smiled. He seemed so constipated, Cora was sure he needed to use some emotional laxatives from time to time. But lately he had loosened up, at least behind closed doors or among friends. As far as she knew, he was just as stiff in public as he always was. But now they had moments like this, when the frown was gone and a content expression took its place. Some stubborn strands of hair kept getting into his eyes, so as he was trying to push them away, he was smearing potato juice all over his forehead.

“What?” he asked, and Cora knew he’d caught her staring at him for the past few minutes.

“You’re really handsome,” she said on a whim, actually speaking her mind instead of trying to find an excuse for blatant ogling.

Cassian laughed, but seemed somewhat taken by surprise, avoiding her gaze and looking at the vegetable in his hand like he’d forgotten what he was supposed to do with it. He was incredibly cute when flustered, losing that serious demeanor that made him look so old sometimes. Although she often forgot it, he was still only a couple of years older than her.

“And also you have some dirt on your forehead,” she added, trying to wipe it off with her hand, but the vegetable juice had dried on his skin and was quite persistent. Cora’s cheeks had started burning too. They didn’t usually say things like this to each other, not when they were out of the the privacy of her bedroom, and even then it seemed like something said only in the heat of the moment. “That, however, does not contradict in any way my previous statement.”

Cassian laughed a hearty laugh and went back to peeling the vegetables. He didn’t say anything for a while, like he didn’t really know how to respond to the sudden compliment, but the tiny smile that kept playing on his lips was more than Cora needed to understand that it was appreciated.

His hands moved very fast, chopping and dicing the ingredients, mixing them with the eggs and finally throwing them into the hot pan. There were so many things Cora wanted to ask him about what he was doing, and the process of cooking looked so exciting and new, that it made her want to try it someday.

“You should teach me how to cook,” she said, taking in the delicious aroma that was coming from the sizzling pan.

“I will,” he said with the same ease he offered to train her earlier that day. “But not tonight. Tonight you need rest.”

“Aye aye, Captain!” she said, standing at attention. “When did you learn to cook?”

“A long time ago,” he said, flipping the omelett. “It happened gradually, I guess. I was always the youngest in the team, and so I often got the shitty jobs. Kitchen duty was just one of them.”

“Wow, that must have sucked!” She imagined a young Cassian being forced to do the hardest and dirtiest jobs []. What else could have been expected by a gang that let a kid join their ranks and wield a blaster at such a young age. She wondered if he ever got any formal education. Probably not.

“Sometimes it sucked,” he said, placing the omelett on two plates and handing her one. The food looked really good, steaming and colorful, so different from the usual mud coloured canteen stews that she had gotten used to. “We could…” he said, looking around the kitchen. “I hoped we could go somewhere else to eat, but we’re a little stuck here until Dony comes back.”

“I don’t mind staying here,” she said, placing her plate on a small table that was wedged in a corner, and pulling a stool next to it. Cassian shrugged, and handed her a fork and knife then placed two beer bottles on the table before taking a seat across from her.

“It’s probably less fancy than what you’ve been used to,” he said, pointing at the food with the fork. The embarrassed smile from before was back, and he seemed once again to be avoiding her gaze.

"I've eaten canteen food most of my life. No one in my family cooked, they never had the time, so home-cooked food is something new to me." She smiled a sad smile. "Besides, the so-called fine dining is usually over-hyped." Cora’s stomach made a rumbling noise so she shoved a forkful of food into her mouth, instantly regretting it the moment the scalding hot substance touched her tongue.

“Be careful, it’s hot,” he laughed.

“Now you tell me!” she whined, after taking a huge gulp of beer, trying to calm the burning sensation. She took the next bite with a lot more caution, making sure to actually taste it this time. “It’s really good!” she said, shoving another forkful into her mouth. It was creamy and flavourful, the different vegetables giving it a pleasant texture. She could identify a type of ham, but the taste was unfamiliar. Overall, it was nothing like the bland, overcooked food that they served in the mess hall. “I could get used to this.”

Cassian laughed, and maybe it was the light, but she could swear there was a light blush tinting his cheeks. Maybe it was the beer.

“Well, we could do this more often,” he offered, digging into his own omelette. “If you want to. And have the time, of course.”

“I will always make time for food,” she said, with a little grin on her face. And also for you, she wanted to add, but didn’t for fear of not making it sound too cheesy.

“We should take the candles next time,” Cassian said, looking down at his food and Cora felt a fuzzy feeling taking over her.

“Yeah, we could. Or we can wait for the oven to catch fire,” she joked, trying to hide how flustered she had become in a mere second. So he sort of considered it a date too. That was good to know.

Fortunately, nothing happened to the oven during their meal, so they could eat their food in peace. Cora managed to forget about the assessment and her worries were laid to rest for a while. Only when they left the kitchen, after they cleaned the dishes and woke up the cook—he was sound asleep in a small office down the hall, snoring loudly—Cora realized just how sleepy she was. It was a nice feeling, different from the usual fatigue that was ever present at the end of her shifts. Her whole body was feeling heavy and warm, and she was very eager to take a quick shower and go to bed.

The way to the elevators seemed a lot longer than usual. The base was pretty quiet at this hour, with everyone either sleeping or working the night shifts, so the halls were almost empty. There was an odd silence surrounding them, and Cora could clearly hear herself dragging her feet on the stone floor, but was too tired to do anything about it.

“Thanks for helping me,” she said, waiting for her elevator. “And for the food. It was really great.”

“My pleasure,” he said, leaning on the wall next to her elevator. “Come find me tomorrow, if you want to continue the training. Make sure you eat your breakfast first. And rest. Don’t come first thing in the morning.”

“Do you think I’ll have enough time to train?” she asked, panic once again rising from the depths.

“Yeah. I told you, I’m not training you for the assessment, I’m training you for when you’ll actually have to go to battle. You could pass the assessment today if you had to.”

She knew that it was meant to calm her nerves, but it had the exact opposite effect, the reminder that she had to actually go into battle one day was giving her the chills. Fortunately, she was too tired to have a full blown panic attack, so she just threw a death glare in Cassian’s direction.

“I’m blaming you if I fail the assessment,” she said, as the elevator door opened in front of her. “Just so you know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” For a moment, he seemed not to know what to do next, so he fidgeted a bit. Cora waited patiently in front of the elevator, not daring to make the first move. She wanted to kiss him, drag him to her room and then promptly fall asleep in his lap, but instead she just smiled timidly. “Good night, Doctor,” he said, making up his mind and leaving with a smile.

“Good night, Captain,” she smiled back, stepping into the elevator.

She sighed and leaned on the wall, pressing the button with the enthusiasm of moist cardboard. Was it too much to ask for a goodnight kiss? There was a little irony in that thought, because she knew she could have actually asked for a kiss instead of wishing he’d just take a hint, but there was always the fear that maybe he’d reject her. Sure, behind closed doors, hidden from the rest of the world, their relationship was certainly different. But what if that’s all he wanted? She wasn’t sure if he’d be ok with them eventually coming out as a couple to everyone else. She wasn’t sure if he even thought about them as a couple. Right now it was a sort of friends with benefits type relationship, no strings attached, no headaches, no commitment. Unfortunately, Cora knew that sooner or later thay’d have to have “the talk”, and the relationship would either move onto the next level, or end completely.  

This couldn’t go on forever, because every day she was falling for him a little more. She’d gotten so used to seeing him every day, that she was looking forward for their meetings. Even on the shittiest days, he had the power to make her feel a little better. There was something comforting about his presence, the way he smiled at her and the little jokes they shared; the warm embraces and hot, languid kisses they shared when they were alone; the nights when she just couldn’t fall asleep so she just nestled closer to him, listening to his heart.

Maybe one day she’d have to give it all up, but for now she was content living in this limbo.

Previous chapter

Masterlist

[rogerrachel1995]

Eloquent Save Relationship Top Tips

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[nehasy]

Dear Brother

Vision of Escaflowne fanfiction

A series of letters between Dallet and his twin brother, an apprentice madoushi.

Dear bro,

I can’t even begin to tell you how amazing this place is!  I know you’re going to lecture me about it all being classified, but if I don’t tell someone, I’m going to burst!  We’re on the flagship!  Can you believe it!?  It’s huge!  Seriously huge!  We’re talking the size of the north wing of the Academy huge!  I’ve already gotten lost twice if you can believe it...stop smirking you ass.  At least I’m doing better than Guimel, remember him? The little mouthy guy from the Academy?  The one who looks like a sheep is trying to mate with his head?  He’s here, and he got lost once on the way to the cafeteria that we actually had to send out a search party.  We found him down by the engine room and waaay out of bounds.  Ever try to sneak your way through a heavily guarded floating fortress when you can barely tell left from right without being seen?  It’s not fun.

Oh sure, you’d have just sweet talked your way out of there like always.  That still drives me nuts by the way.  There’s no way you got through the Academy with a perfect disciplinary record.  I know you, you social deviant!

Anyway, We have our own little wing on the Vione.  There’s barracks, a conference room, a gym and a small lounge.  Gatti has already decided that the lounge is going to be just for us.  Anyone else who gets added onto the team is going to have to find their own place to relax.  This is ours dammit!

Things really aren’t what I expected here.  I mean, the fortress is amazing, state of the art everything, and the Strategos... he’s sort of mind bogglingly terrifying.  No one should be that tall... or that gloomy. I’m also pretty sure he can read minds.  When he looks at you, I swear he’s looking right through you... also, he’s really good at finding and confiscating any illicit material being brought on board. Pretty sure he’s not human.  

Oh!  I have a partner now!  His name is Shesta and he’s sort of weird.  He comes from a small border village where they worship some stupid rock and think that you can trap a spirit in a piece of hair or cloth.  He’s a cute kid, but ugh, he’s sort of like cousin Tansin.  I swear that there’s no way he’s ever going to become a soldier.  Don’t get me wrong, he’s really sweet, but the other day I caught him in a restricted area feeding bloody birds or all things!!  I think his brain might be a little broken.

So how’s the Science Academy?  Did you get a cloak yet?  Do I have to call you sir?  Can you throw fireballs?  Viole says that Madoushi can do that sort of thing... course... I think Viole’s mom drank a bit too much when she was pregnant with him...he’s not quite right in the head.

Dammit, lights out. Write back!

Dearest Moron,

What part of classified fails to breach that thick brick you call a skull?  If your message had been intercepted, you’d have been summarily dismissed from service and likely sent to a work camp.  Not to mention, Mother would have gutted you like a pig and danced on your entrails!  For future letters, I am enclosing a cipher for a code we will use.  Do try to follow it, I did my best to keep it simple so as not to strain you too badly.

In all honesty though, I do miss you and am glad that things are going well.  In answer to your questions.  No, I do not have a cloak yet. Yes, you call me sir, not that you will ever bother to even though I’M the one with the noble title (I point out for the fiftieth time this colour) and as for your final question.... that’s classified.

Don’t tease your roommate.  I know you still will because you’re an ass, but do try to understand that the border towns have... unusual beliefs, but it doesn’t pay to discount them too lightly.  I’ve seen many strange and un-explainable things, try not to piss off powers you don’t understand.  If you can’t quite grasp that concept, simply remember the time you pulled the tail of father’s horse.  Picture that in your mind then multiply it by a factor of ten.  Also, there’s nothing wrong with feeding birds.  I happen to like them.

Just so you know, the Strategos CAN read minds.  How do you think he always has an answer for everything and is never surprised?  The man is a genius and you should always give him your utmost respect.  I’d suggest several books that he’s written, but I know you won’t bother reading them since they don’t involve heaving breasts and accompanying pictures.  That was NOT a thinly veiled suggestion for you to draw said pictures in one of his books.  If I hear of you doing that I WILL report you, you philistine.  

Now for the important bit, and fuck being classified information.  Tell me about your damn captain!!  You know that’s the only reason I told you that you could write to me.  What’s he like?  Is he really as good as the stories?  Is he really as gorgeous as they say?  I hope you know that I expect an autograph or something for my birthday which I might remind you is coming up shortly.

I wield the forces of Time and Space.  It’s important to appease me at all costs.

Dear Wielder of the Forces of Time and Space,

Mother said that some of the older apprentices locked you and two others in the storage closet for the night.  Bet those fireball throwing skills really would have come in handy.

I know, I know, I’m not using your stupid code.  It was dumb and paranoid and I’m not indulging in your cloak and dagger fantasies.  Be glad that I’m taking the time to even write to you and yes, my handwriting is particularly bad because I’m so tired that I can barely hold a pen.

Your precious beautiful dream captain is a nightmare made flesh.  Seriously.  I’m pretty sure that he’s actually trying to kill some of us.  We’re up two hours before dawn doing stretches and warm ups, then he has us running laps around the Vione until someone pukes.  I’m not being sarcastic at all.  Shesta’s thrown up twice, Viole and I once, poor Guimel has thrown up three times.  Miguel, Gatti and Ryuun haven’t yet, but I still hold out hope.

The worst thing is that the Captain runs right along with us, making us all keep up to him and the pale assed bastard doesn’t even break a damn sweat!!! Then, after we’re all trying to not have heart attacks from sheer exhaustion, he has us spar!  It’s supposed to be something about instinct over intellect, that our bodies are supposed to know how to react even when our minds have shut down.  It sounds like utter bullshit compared to what our instructors at the academy taught us, but seeing the guy fight....

I’ve never seen anything like it.  When he moves, it’s like trying to watch the wind during a storm.  He just tears through his opponents and the guy has no concept of mercy.  All of us have spent time in the infirmary already and I’m pretty sure that I’m permanently going to be various bruise colours for the rest of my life.

It’s tricky being on his team.  He’s a stickler for rules... only, they’re not the usual rules we were taught in the Academy.  He has his own set, and you follow them above all others unless you want to be  kissing the floor.  The problem is... I don’t think he really has permission for these new rules, because we keep getting in trouble with the other units... and the Strategos, and pretty much every other unit on the fortress.  Still, as crazy as it sounds, I’d rather have the Strategos made at me than Captain Albatou.

Stop daydreaming about him.  He’d eat you alive and pick his teeth with your bones.

As for the rest of the team, we’re forging bonds of brotherhood in our joined suffering.

Gatti- He’s an arrogant know-it-all ass.  You’d probably like him.  The guy has no sense of humour at all and I’m pretty sure his face is an elaborate mask of some sort because I’ve never seen him so much as have a single expression.  He’s brilliant though and never seems to lose his cool, believe me, we’ve all tried to rattle him.

Shesta-I amend my initial impression.  He’s nuts.  But it’s a fun nuts.  I’m positive that he actually enjoys annoying the Captain and so far he holds he record for the most times knocked out.  The guy is stubborn and fearless, even if he is a little weird.  He’s also got a huge crush on the Captain and I swear he just acts up for the attention.

Guimel- he’s suicidal, that’s all I can figure.  He is second place for most times knocked out and I’m pretty sure he’s only still on the team cause the guy fights like a cornered rat.  He’s a vicious little monster and snarky, but he’s decent enough when the Captain isn’t around.  My gidaru is on him trying to stab the Captain in his sleep before the week is out.

Miguel- Arrogant, snide, uppity... you’d think he was a noble, but he’s from some northern village I’ve never heard of.  He’s like you in the fact that he’s always studying something boring and then explaining it at length to the rest of us.  I think he’s trying to impress the Captain, but so far it’s not working.  He and Gatti are at the top of the team so far and always competing against each other, it’s sort of fun to watch.  They’re either going to kill each other, or fuck by the end of the colour... we have a betting pool going.

Viole- I like him. He’s crazy in a good way and knows not to prod the damn dragon of a captain.  I’d prefer to have him as my partner rather than Shesta seeing as how we enjoy hanging out, but I can sort of see the logic behind the selection.  Viole and I like to just hang out, smuggle in the odd  illicit shadowgraph (Which somehow the captain ALWAYS finds) and explore the ship.  He looks like a girl, which was sort of creepy at first, but really... everyone on the team is... pretty.  Am I pretty?  Ugh, talk about an identity crisis.  I always considered myself to be roguishly handsome.  Viole says that all I’m missing is some padding on the chest and I could have a field day with the infantry guys.  Ugh... mental images.  STOP LAUGHING!

Ryuun- he’s a stick in the mud.  Rules rules rules.  I swear that he reads rule books when he’s taking a crap.  Granted, he’s never in trouble and he tends to keep Viole (his partner) more or less on task... no small feat by the way.  Sometimes he’s not so bad, he did cover for me one night when he caught me coming back to the barracks after hours...  He’s a good fighter and really has a head for strategy. I sort of feel sorry for him when the Captain has us free spar when exhausted, he tends to get his ass handed to him, but anytime we’re doing any strategy based training, he’s incredible.  

Anyone of note on your end?  I mean, other than the losers you got locked in the closet with?  I hope you at least had a little fun to kill the time.  When do you get an actual assignment?  Do you guys do any crazy experiments?  Can you summon draconians or anything cool like that?

Dear Pervert,

No, I did NOT “have a little fun” during that debacle and who told you about that anyway?  I won’t get an actual assignment until I complete my apprenticeship thesis and am selected by a Master to work under them. Yes, I am working on one and don’t worry, I won’t bore you by telling you about it, but it IS fascinating and uses words far too large for you to properly comprehend.  

As for crazy experiments... there have been a few.  We learned (the hard way) that combining varidium with Alurium ore then adding heat as opposed to cold will turn your hair a rather shocking shade of pink.  Yes yes, laugh while you can.  My hair will grow our but you dear brother will always be a moron.  We did have one bad accident though, a young woman was badly burned by some acids during one of our experiments and from what I’ve heard, she might never recover.

I’m sure you’ve seen your share of battle wounds already, but watching someone’s skin melt off their bones... smelling it... I’m a firm believer in following proper safety procedure now, no matter how boring and tedious.  We all are.  It sort of makes me wonder if the instructors had arranged for the accident to happen as an object lesson.  I know... it sounds like my usual paranoia... but sometimes you hear things... odd rumours and what not that make you rather reluctant to wander the halls late at night or poke around in places you shouldn’t.

I honestly don’t know what you’re complaining about really with your training.  I’d kill to be in your shoes and you damn well know it.  So you’re sweating and are all bruised.  Cry me a damn river.  You’re training under the brightest Captain in Zaibach history and part of an elite unit that will likely be pivotal in the glorious future of our Empire.  You’re going to learn how to pilot a guymelef!  For that alone I’d do anything to experience even just once.  Remember how lucky you are and think of me stuck reading dusty tomes and fiddling with disgusting ingredients which might very well melt me to pudding if I blink at the wrong time.  Which of us do you think is more hard done by?

Seriously though, you need to stay out of trouble.  Don’t put your position at risk just for a few laughs of a roll beneath the sheets.  If you get any of those ladies with child you’ll be discharged, not to mention what your Captain will do to you.  I’ve been hearing stories about his temper.  (This in no way lessens how much I worship him mind you and I still expect that autograph, but I’ll settle for a lock of hair.  Remember that you love me.)

I’m glad you’re getting along with your team, you were always the shy one out of the two of us.  It seems so odd that destiny deemed that I’d be the intellectual while you’d be the big bold warrior.  Just because I could never completely bow to fate’s whim, I’ve enclosed a book I think you’ll enjoy on advanced mechanical theory. You likely won’t find this on your ship’s library... that is IF it even has one, but it’s part of our reading curriculum and I thought of you when I saw it.  Are you still building things?  Maybe you should spend your spare time doing that rather than plundering young maidens, it will likely advance your career much more effectively.

Lastly NO!!! I have not summoned any draconians!!  What sort of idiot would want one of those things lurking about!??!  What part of hideously cursed being have you failed to understand!??!  Ugh, they blew up their damn world you idiot.  I don’t want them on this one.

Read the damn book. I WILL quiz you.

Dear Brother,

I almost died today...

The Captain tried to kill me.

Ever been executed for gross negligence?  Ask me how!

Gatti got promoted to second in command... he saved my life today.

[hekate1308]

Hell On Wheels

There can never be too many Crowley survival stories. Never. So here, have more from this universe. 

His mother needed a few weeks to regain the strength to leave her bed. The witch had sucked her almost dry by the point Crowley and the boys had arrived.

They would have to figure out what to do with her once her magic had replenished herself, but for the moment, there was little to do but make sure she recovered. One of them stayed at the bunker at all times, admittedly not just to look after Rowena but also to check that she didn’t get up to any shenanigans.

Crowley certainly didn’t want her to start wreaking havoc the way she’d tried to in Hell.

In Hell.

Some days, his demonic existence seemed like a dream, or rather a nightmare. Some days, it was almost incredibly that he hadn’t just grown up a hunter and eventually joined the Winchesters on their quest to look after this doomed amazing stupid world.

“How is she today?” Dean asked, entering the kitchen.

“I haven’t checked on her yet. I’m making breakfast”.

Dean nodded.

“And how are you?”

“I’m fine” he said, frowning. There was little reason to ask.

“It’s not exactly easy, your dead mother showing up”. He smiled somewhat sadly.

“Trust me, I know”.

“I can assure you Mary is nothing like my mother”.

Even with the mistakes she’d continued to make after she’d been resurrected.

“I guess. That story with the pigs true?”

“Yep”.

“Man, I’d have thought you’d at least be worth more than three”.

“That’s exactly what I think”.

After a short pause Dean said, “She’s really happy you’re alive, you know”.

He’d assumed her joy at seeing him had been a product of her being semi-conscious at the time.

“I know you don’t believe it, but last week, when you were on the case in Wisconsin... She’s awake for longer periods, now. Plenty of time to talk”.

Not when Crowley was with her. She slept most of the time then, or gave monosyllabic answers.

Dean must have read what he felt on his face, because he nudged him to the side and took over at the stove.

“She’s pretty freaked out. Still tough as nails, but I’m pretty sure there was torture going on at the beginning before they grew too weak to fight”.

And his mother would have fought for a long time before even accepting that she might be too weak, Crowley well knew.

“She definitely told her you were dead over and over. Rowena hinted at some visions she showed her.”

Dean grimaced.

“Can’t be easy, watching your kid gut himself. Wasn’t a pretty sight”.

He could have sworn that his mother would gladly have done the gutting herself, in times when she didn’t need him.

“Look, ultimately it’s your call” Dean said. “And of course it depends on what she’s like when she’s back on full power. Could be useful to have an ally who can just stroll into Hell whenever she wants”.

Only that he had no idea if Rowena would decide to be their ally. She might decide that on second thought, her son being alive and human was of no use to her.

“And if she wants to leave?”

“We’re not keeping anyone against their will here” Dean said, only to remember and to add, “Anymore”.

“The dungeon really isn’t that uncomfortable. You’ve been too Hell” he replied lightly.

Dean laughed.

“Not exactly eager to repeat the trip, I tell you”.

Even with Death being... well dead and his replacement long gone, and the angels being rather antagonistic towards the Winchesters and free will, Crowley was certain he wouldn’t. The boys would end up in Heaven, probably causing chaos like they always did.

While he wasn’t looking forward to Death, Heaven was a more pleasing prospect than the one awaiting him.

Crowley was rather certain he was going to repeat his former career. And there were bound to be many demons who would cherish his transformation.

As if the thought of becoming one again wasn’t enough to make his skin crawl since he’d woken up with a human soul.

“There”.

Dean handed him a tray. Lost in thought, he’d not even noticed he’d finished cooking.

“Just take it slow. No reason to rush. For once, there’s no world-ending crisi on our hands”.

He nodded.

“Thank you”.

“Forget about it”.

For the first time, his mother was sitting up in bed, waiting.

“Good morning”.

“Fer- Crowley”.

He was surprised; ever since she had appeared on the scene, she’d stubbornly used his given name.

“Good morning”.

He put the tray down in front of her.

“Thank you”.

The last time she’d thanked him for something, he’d just blown up her ex-boyfriend in front of her.

“How are you feeling today?”

“I’m growing stronger every day”.

He nodded.

An awkward silence followed.

He’d fantasized about killing her so many times, and she’d probably done the same, concerning him.

“Dean tells me you’re a good hunter” she finally said.

“I gathered some experience in the parallel world”.

If he hadn’t been a good fighter, he’d have died long before they ever found the portal.

“I am a little surprised. I would have thought you’d choose another career”.

In truth, he had never even contemplated that.

“Like Dean said, I’m good at it”.

And he had to do something to cleanse himself of all the guilt. Everything he’d done in the last few centuries...

“I see”.

“He also said you’ve been talking”.

He hadn’t even been aware that she was fit enough to speak for hours already. She must have kept it from him on purpose.

She nodded.

“I might have to take back my complaints about you running after the Winchesters all the time. They happen to be quite catching”.

He couldn’t agree more.

“You didn’t have to bring me here. You could have taken me to a hospital”.

They could have, but it wouldn’t have felt right.

“You know the boys”.

“I beg to differ”. She studied him.

“I’m starting to think I’ve always been wrong about one particular member of the team”.

“Dean has always been smarter than – “

“I wasn’t talking about him” she interrupted him.

“You’ve – you’re a good man”.

He chuckled.

“I am not so sure”.

“I can’t be either” she conceded. “I have precious little experience with being good”.

“We both have, I dare to say”.

Another pause.

He was about to excuse himself when she said, “I withstood as long as I could”.

“I never doubted that”.

“She broke me” she spat, her face furious. “I swore never to be broken, and she broke me”.

“We killed her.”

It was small consolation, but it would have to do.

Rowena balled her hands into fists.

“I hope it hurt”.

He couldn’t tell her that. They tried to cause no unnecessary pain when they killed.

They weren’t demons.

Anymore.

“She broke me” she repeated, “and I never got to have my revenge”.

“Better for all, really. There might be other witches like her. They would have come after you again, then”.

She stared at him, then laughed – a weak impression of her former laugh, but it was enough.

“I almost forgot you’re human for a second”.

“I did too, in the beginning”.

He’d had several close calls because he’d tried to simply blast demons and other monsters out of the way.

If it hadn’t been for Bobby and Mary, he wouldn’t have been alive right now.

“And you have no idea why you’re...”

She trailed off.

He shook his head.

“Dean said she showed you what happened?”

She looked away, and he only understood why she suddenly seemed embarrassed when she said, “I told you she broke me”.

He’d never have imagined that it would be the pain at his loss that would triumph over his mother’s iron will.

“Anyway, I had it all planned. A big final scene, the orchestra flares up, I save the world by heroically sacrificing myself. I have no idea what went wrong. But next thing I know, I wake up in an apocalyptic wasteland, Lucifer is running around, and the boys are gone”.

His eyes blink open. He’s confused and doesn’t even know why. He takes a few deep breaths to calm down, his heart beating –

Wait. His heart is beating? His heart hasn’t beaten in a long time, not since his wife accused him of not having one to begin with –

Yes. He has a pulse. He is breathing, and every muscle on his body is sore –

He tries to clean up his suit with a blink and fails.

The conviction steals upon him slowly, bewildered as he is by the fact that he can even think about it in the first place.

He’s human.

He’s alive and he’s human.

And he’s helpless in the Apocalypse.

“You joined the humans? Dean said you killed Lucifer. Bragged about it a bit, now that I think about it”.

Dean had developed a habit of doing that, usually accompanied by a story how he himself killed Hitler.

“Yes. Me and Mary managed to corner him.”

“It must have been satisfying”.

“It was”.

And perhaps, at the moment, he’d thought of his mother, burned to a crisp at the devil’s feet. Just a little.

“What happens now?” she asked. “Are you planning on keeping me here?”

He shrugged.

“You’re not planning any evil deeds, are you?”

“You know me; I only look out for myself, that is all”.

“In that case you can walk out of here when you’re better”.

“That’s all?”

“Want me to throw you in the dungeon?”

She smirked.

“You’re human now, you can experience guilt. You wouldn’t leave me in there for half a day”.

“I would if you tried to harm my friends”.

She stared at him.

“You really have changed”.

“You said it yourself. I’m human”.

“A bit more than that, I’d say. You’re a hunter”.

He nodded.

“You really should get some more rest”.

As he reached the door, Rowena said quietly, “I’m really happy that you’re alive”.

He didn’t answer.

The boys were having breakfast.

“She’s doing well” he said before anyone could ask.

“Kind of figured this wouldn’t get her there. If someone comes back after being killed by Lucifer twice...”

“She’s certainly making progress” Cas said, looking guilty. Despite knowing they didn’t blame him for his inability to heal people, he still felt bad when he couldn’t.

“Her magic should come back soon” Sam said, “I’ve read that witches – “

“No offense, Moose, but I’m sure I know more about it than you have ever read”.

“None taken. You’re right”.

“I think we can leave her alone when we’re going on hunts now. She’ll get out of bed one of these days”.

His phone rang.

“Sheriff Mills”.

He put her on speaker.

“Hi, boys. Crowley, how’s your mother?”

“Almost back to her old spritely ways, thank you for asking”.

“Glad to hear it. You free? There’s a case near you that looks like ghouls to me, Peter agrees”.

“Peter?”

“Peter Jones. A hunter I met some time ago”.

“Oh? There something you want to tell us?” Dean teased her.

“I will let you know that I am actually an adult and capable of making my own decisions. Plus, he’s not my type”.

“And what would that happen to be?” Crowley asked before he could stop himself.

“You know, there was this guy once, pretty hot, but he tried to kill me, so...”

“Would you stop that? It’s like watching my parents flirt” Dean complained.

“Just having a little fun, Winchester, that’s allowed”.

“Alright” Sam said, “What about the case?”

Cas hid a smile.

He’d really been turned completely human, just like Crowley himself.

Before they left for the case, he knocked at his mother’s door.

“Sure” she answered to his question, “I can get up easily now. As long as the kitchen is stoked, I will be fine”.

“It is”.

As if Dean would ever have allowed something different.

She nodded.

“Take care of yourself, Crowley”.

“Right back at you” he managed to answer.

There were times when his human life was better than anything he’d ever known.

[unashamed-shipper]

Playing for Keeps

Rugby!Natsu commission for @hellojawsie! Thank you so much for being so patient, Katie! You are so kind ^^

pairing: nalu, mentions of gajevy

characters: natsu, lucy, levy, mentions of gajeel

word count: 2,015

type: fluffy fluff

Lucy knew next to nothing about rugby. She knew that people could get easily injured while playing the sport: their arms could get broken or their faces badly beaten. She even knew someone who had their foot in a cast after all the bones in their foot were crushed. If she was honest, she cared little about the sport.

But she cared so much about one person that played it.

Natsu Dragneel had been her one and only crush all throughout high school. She entered into class one day like normal, and during a boring lecture she peered out the window and saw him throwing around a ball with his teammates. His rose colored hair shone in the sunlight and stood out against the rest of the hues of brown and black, catching her attention right away. After he tossed the ball to a teammate, Natsu looked up and saw her staring at him. He waved and smiled, which stole her heart and further took her attention away from class.

From that moment on, Natsu knew that they were destined to be friends. Yelling a quick goodbye to his friends, he bounded up the steps and began to search for her classroom. After a few moments of hunting, he burst into the room and asked who the ‘weird blonde girl who was starin’ at me,’ was. Natsu’s green eyes stared into hers when the entire class turned and gaped at Lucy, and a grin spread across his face as he strode toward her quickly and stood above her with his fists on his hips.

“Weirdo,” he began, leaning over and picking her up out of her chair, “you’re comin’ with me.”

Slinging over his shoulder, Natsu marched out of the classroom as the teacher and Lucy’s classmates ogled the strange sight. Lucy pounded on his back with a shout, hoping to get someone’s attention.

“Where are we going?” she asked, and Natsu grinned.

“We’re playing hooky, Luce.”

“How the hell do you know my name?” Lucy was surprised, and even more shocked that he now had a nickname for her.

Not that she didn’t like it, though.

“Easy. Your homework had your name on it. You wanna go get ice cream?” he asked, and she sighed.

“I’m supposed to be learning, not eating desserts!” Lucy replied with a roll of her eyes. Was this guy completely insane?

“School is a drag, Luce. It’s the same thing every day, and you gotta switch it up every once in awhile! So how about it?”

She found herself considering it. He was rather attractive, and she thought going to ice cream was somewhat of a date. But skipping school for something as insignificant as ice cream? It was very unlike her. She wasn’t a straight-A student like her best friend, but she did want to get into college one day.

But what could one day hurt?

“I guess that’s fine. Let me down, please,” Lucy responded, and Natsu let her down.

“Awesome! I’m Natsu by the way. Natsu Dragneel. Nice to meet ya, Luce!” he smiled again, and her pulse raced.

Moments later they were at the ice cream shop. Lucy ordered a pistachio ice cream, which Natsu dubbed ‘disgusting’ as he piled on hot pepper flakes on his plain vanilla. Why the shop had pepper flakes as one of their toppings, Lucy would never know. As they sat down and began to eat, they began to realize that they were more suited for one another than they originally thought.

At least, Lucy hoped so.

The bell rang, shifting Lucy’s thoughts back to the present. She saw Natsu sleeping in the chair next to her, and with a smile she nudged him awake a few times before he awakened.

“Luce? What time is it?” Natsu asked, and Lucy giggled.

“Class just finished. Time for lunch,” she said, and Natsu practically hopped out of his chair despite being fast asleep moments before.

“Sweet!” he replied, getting ready to go out the door when he remembered something. Nervousness rushed through his body as he turned to Lucy with a smile.

“Uh, Luce?” he asked, “You’re gonna come to my game tonight, right?”

The corners of Lucy’s mouth turned up, and she peered into Natsu’s eyes. He wanted her to watch him play? This was a first. Usually he just assumed that she would be there, but Lucy guessed that today was different. Maybe there was something finally changing between them.

“Of course, Natsu. See you then.”

The game started right after school, and Lucy was more excited for Natsu than she ever had been. His team was facing off against a rival school’s, and she was also nervous for their victory as well. The other team was undefeated, and their school had a few losses itself. Their team was one of the best, but sometimes testosterone got in the way of playing the sport correctly.

Lucy blew into her gloved hands as she sat outside in the cold, waiting for the players to come out from their hideout. She wanted to be the first to see Natsu, and so she parked herself at the very first seat in the stadium. Checking her watch, she noticed that it was only mere moments until they would be out.

“Waiting to see Natsu, Lu?” Levy teased as she flopped down into the seat next to her best friend, and Lucy swiped at her arm with a grin.

“Shush, Lev. It’s not like you sat next to me so you could get a good look at Gajeel,” Lucy poked Levy’s cheek, and Levy batted it away with a palm.

“I sat next to you because you’re my best friend, not because I like that stupid oaf,” Levy said, grabbing her book bag and unzipping it to rummage around for a book.

“Sure you don’t. Why do I see you in the back of the class again?” Lucy contemplated, tapping her pointer finger on her chin with a smirk, “Oh, that’s right! Cause you get a ‘full view of the board’ when you sit back there.”

Levy blew a raspberry at Lucy, and Lucy grinned victoriously back at her companion. She knew when Levy was lying quicker than everyone else did, and it was obvious that Levy had a slight crush on the tall guy who always seemed to be messing with her. Lucy had known Levy since they were children, and never once had Levy felt that way about someone. It was a nice change of pace for the girl who always seemed to be ignoring everyone else with her nose in a book.

After a few moments, the players finally came out of their HQ and the stadium cheered when Natsu was announced. Lucy cheered the loudest, of course, but she couldn’t help but hear a few other feminine shouts screaming Natsu’s name. Jealousy boiled within her, but she decided to ignore it. After all, she was the one that he invited to go watch his game with him, right?

Natsu threw his arms up in the air and roared, showing off his dominance to the opposing team. It was his signature move, and Lucy thought it was quite cute. He had done that ever since his first game that he played, and Lucy was there to see it.

The game started within a minute, with the referee blowing his whistle. The ball was passed a few times, and a goal was made quickly by the opposing team. Boos were heard from the Magnolia side of things, and then the next play started.

Everything happened so fast that Lucy could barely even comprehend what was happening. Natsu grabbed the ball and was about to throw it to someone else when he was tackled by a much bigger player, and Natsu went down quicker than Lucy had ever seen. A collective gasp went throughout the crowd, and Lucy covered her hands with her mouth.

“Natsu!” she shouted after her shock had taken place, “No!”

Instantly an ambulance was on the field, and two guys carrying a stretcher wheeled out and pushed Natsu onto it. Lucy pushed through her fright and hustled down the steps to see her friend and crush being taken into the ambulance. The last thing she saw was Natsu’s eyes wandering to hers and then slowly shutting before she began running toward Levy.

“Lev?” Lucy asked, and Levy gathered up her things rapidly and held out a palm to Lucy to steady her. Sometimes the two would grasp palms when things got rough, and this was one of those times.

“You don’t have to tell me twice, Lu. Let’s go.”

Lucy realized that when Levy told her that she would go as quickly as she could that she actually meant twenty miles over the speed limit. Lucy’s stress levels were already at a high point, but possibly getting pulled over by the cops almost sent her overboard. They got to the hospital within seven minutes flat, and Lucy vowed to never write with Levy in a crisis again.

“I’ll let you go. I’ll go see how the rest of the team is doing,” Levy said, and Lucy saluted before running off to Natsu’s room, which the receptionist said was 513. Bounding down the hallway and dodging a few nurses, Lucy was desperate to find him. When she finally saw the room, she tiptoed in and saw Natsu hooked up to a bunch of IV’s and machines. His leg was bound up and his face was bandaged.

“L-Luce?” Natsu asked after seeing her standing there, and Lucy gasped. His voice was raspy, and all she wanted to do was comfort him and fix it so she could take him home. They could spend time watching Netflix and eating popcorn and have a good night. Natsu didn’t deserve any of this.

“Hey. How are you doing?” she asked, and he grinned. It was the only Natsu-like thing about him at the moment.

“I wasn’t hurt that badly. The doctor said all my bleeding was internal. That’s where my blood is supposed to be,” Natsu said, and Lucy smiled and shook her head.

“You really had me worried back there,” she said, and Natsu shrugged.

“Well, at least with this cast I look badass,” Natsu told her, lifting up his leg the tiniest bit. He winced at the pain, and Lucy’s eyebrows rose at his expression.

“Is--Is there anything I can do to make you feel better? You want some food?”

“Maybe later, Luce. There is something I want more than food.” Natsu said, and Lucy laughed.

“More than food? It must be pretty important then. Alright, what is it?” Lucy shook her head again, wondering what the heck he must want that would be more important than filling his belly.

“I want a kiss.”

Lucy’s blood turned to ice as her mouth dropped open. He wanted a what?!

“You-You want me to kiss you?” she asked, and he motioned her to come closer so he could whisper in her ear.

“More than anything in the world,” he whispered, and she shivered as his warm breath tickled her ear. Lucy smiled as she stared into his eyes, and he wrapped his arms around her neck and pulled her to him.

Their lips met softly at first, but slowly became much more intimate as it deepened. Lucy grasped Natsu’s locks as she pulled him flush to her, and Natsu held back the tiniest of moans when she carefully slid her tongue into his mouth.

They kissed for a few more moments before deciding to stop, and Natsu grinned wider than he had ever before when they broke away.

“Wow, Luce. I shoulda kissed you a long time ago,” he said, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt.

Lucy flushed, turning away. How long had he been waiting to kiss her like that?

“Nuh-uh,” Natsu said with a smirk, grasping her chin with his palm gently and turning her face toward his. “This is a game, Luce. And I’m playing for keeps.”

I hope you enjoyed! Make sure to check out Katie’s page cause she is a totally awesome friend and person in general ^^

Commissions are open, and I have two spots left for May! 

[thisdaynews]

Everything you need to know about the UK Supreme Court ruling

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/everything-you-need-to-know-about-the-uk-supreme-court-ruling/

Everything you need to know about the UK Supreme Court ruling

LONDON — Boris Johnson’s five-week suspension of parliament was ruled unlawful Tuesday and MPs will now hurry back to Westminster to take their seats in the House of Commons.

Just hours after Britain’s top judges gave the prime minister a serious telling-off, Speaker John Bercow was back, declaring business would resume the following day.

But, as is so often the case with Brexit, the politics is ablaze yet the steps toward an EU exit remain largely unchanged.

Here’s your guide to what Tuesday’s ruling means and what happens next.

What has the Supreme Court decided?

Eleven judges decided unanimously that Johnson acted illegally when he advised Queen Elizabeth II to suspend (or prorogue) parliament. In essentially misleading the queen, the prime minister had by extension trampled on the sovereignty of parliament at a crucial time in the Brexit process.

“The decision to advise Her Majesty to prorogue parliament was unlawful because it had the effect of frustrating or preventing the ability of parliament to carry out its constitutional functions without reasonable justification,” said Brenda Hale, the court’s president, as she read out the judgement.

Johnson’s advice was “unlawful, void and of no effect,” she said, meaning that “when the Royal Commissioners walked into the House of Lords [to enact the suspension] it was as if they walked in with a blank sheet of paper.”

In the eyes of the law, this suspension never happened, meaning the speakers of the Commons and Lords are now free to recall both houses of parliament, Hale said.

However, the judges chose not to rule on Johnson’s motivation for suspending parliament, something that could have been even more politically contentious.

What impact will the decision have on Brexit?

As things stand, the U.K. is still due to leave the European Union on October 31, and Johnson reiterated again on Tuesday that he wants to “get on and deliver [Brexit]” regardless of the Supreme Court ruling.

But he still must contend with a new law — known as the Benn Act — which forces the prime minister to ask the European leaders to extend negotiations if no deal has been agreed by next month’s European Council meeting on October 17 and 18.

With the threat of suspension looming, MPs acted quickly in early September and passed this law in order to stop Johnson taking the U.K. out of the EU without a deal.

“[The court ruling] doesn’t make a big impact on the outcome of Brexit in the long run,” Charles Grant, director of the Centre for European Reform think tank, said. “What matters most is whether Boris can get a deal with the EU27.”

Does the ruling make a no-deal Brexit less likely?

Probably. Having lost in the country’s highest court, the Cabinet are likely to be more cautious about allowing the prime minister to try any more unusual maneuvers to force Brexit through.

The Democratic Unionist Party, which propped up Johnson’s government in Westminster, could also apply pressure not to further test the law. Arlene Foster, the party’s leader, tweeted on Tuesday that the Supreme Court had “to be respected.”

Grant said he thought the chance of the U.K. leaving on October 31 had gone from “low to minimal; infinitesimally low.”

“The more radical, Maoist voices in the government were saying let’s find a loophole. Having been chided by the Supreme Court once for acting illegally, it would be very difficult for them to do that twice,” he said.

Assuming Johnson doesn’t do a deal with Brussels, the most likely next step for the government is to ask the EU27 for an extension and then push for an election.

Does this mean Johnson will have to resign?

Johnson on Tuesday rejected the idea that he could resign over the defeat, and was backed up by Trump. Asked if the British prime minister might step down, Trump said: “I’ll tell you, I know him well, he’s not going anywhere.” Johnson added: “No, no, no.”

British prime ministers do not usually resign unless they lose the confidence of the public (via an election or referendum), of their Cabinet, or of parliament. Johnson doesn’t appear to have lost the first two and arguably never enjoyed the confidence of parliament, having lost every vote in the House of Commons. Whereas once losing a key vote would have spelled the end of a premiership, new rules mandating when U.K. elections must be held have made it possible for prime ministers to cling on.

A snap YouGov poll in the wake of the Supreme Court ruling suggests the public largely agrees with the judgment that prorogation was unlawful. But Johnson has been riding high in the usual polling horserace in recent weeks and the public — or at least the section he claims to speak for — generally seems to support his approach to Brexit.

He held a “businesslike” Cabinet call in the wake of the judgment, a Downing Street official said, and although Justice Secretary Robert Buckland raised concerns about a hostile briefing against the judges, nobody seems on the verge of resignation.

Johnson himself feels no need to resign because he refutes the verdict, a U.K. government official said. “The prime minister has said he disagrees with the ruling but of course, as always, we abide by it, he now has a job to do.”

Will anyone take the blame?

Downing Street does not expect ministers or advisers to lose their jobs over the prorogation blunder.

There had been some speculation that Attorney General Geoffrey Cox could be in line for the chop after Sky News obtained a memo detailing his legal advice that prorogation was lawful. “The attorney general said that his advice on the question of the law is that this was lawful and within the constitution,” the document reads. “Any accusations of unlawfulness or constitutional outrage were motivated by political considerations.”

Brexit Party leader Nigel Farage, meanwhile, said top Downing Street adviser Dominic Cummings “must go” for recommending what he branded the “worst political decision ever.” Other reporters said there was disquiet about Cummings among Tory ranks in the wake of the verdict, while questions were also raised over the position of legislative adviser Nikki da Costa.

A U.K. government official said the prime minister had confidence in Cox and Cummings. He was not asked specifically about da Costa but rejected suggestions there would be job losses.

What do MPs do now?

While the ruling is a blow to the prime minister, it also puts pressure on MPs to demonstrate that parliament has a valuable role scrutinizing Brexit. Why make a big fuss about suspending parliament if MPs don’t have anything meaningful to say?

The ruling caught most of British politics by surprise and there is no clear cross-party strategy yet, according to a number of figures involved in discussions. “The outcome of the ruling had not been expected by many in Westminster,” one opposition strategist said.

The coalition of cross-party MPs that pushed the Benn Act only came together when facing a looming deadline because Johnson was about to suspend parliament, which focused the disparate group on their shared aim of preventing a no-deal Brexit.

Some Tories opposed to no deal are mulling further legislation to ensure the prime minister can’t circumnavigate the new law, strategists working with some of them said.

While some think a move could come as early as tomorrow, others do not think MPs will act immediately.

Another strategist familiar with discussions said MPs from across the political divide would use the extra parliamentary time to probe the government for more information on Brexit preparations, for example more detail about planning for a no-deal exit, insight into the government’s legal advice or details of negotiations with Brussels.

The ancient parliamentary device of a “humble address” to require the government to publish such information would likely be used in the coming weeks, the strategist said, although some are more cautious about forcing legal advice because of the precedent it sets.

Will there be a general election?

It is still just about possible to have a pre-Brexit election if two thirds of MPs vote for one when parliament returns Wednesday, according to the Institute for Government’s Joe Marshall. But it is very unlikely.

For opposition leaders, the calculation on an election hasn’t changed. They still want to be sure Johnson cannot pull the U.K. out of the EU without a deal before they will back a snap vote, which makes an election very unlikely before November.  Opposition parties held discussions about their next steps on Tuesday following the Supreme Court ruling.

Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn told his party on Tuesday that the only way out of the Brexit crisis was a general election, but that no-deal exit must be ruled out first. A spokesman said Corbyn would go to parliament on Wednesday and “use whatever mechanisms there are to try and hold the prime minister to account and achieve the goals Jeremy set out.”

Scottish National Party Leader Nicola Sturgeon said MPs should “come together” to force Johnson out of office through a vote of confidence if he does not do the “decent and honorable thing” by quitting. But an SNP official said the party would make sure no deal had been ruled out “for good — no games or smoke and mirrors,” and then move against the prime minister.

Can the U.K.’s unwritten constitution survive Brexit?

“The wider effect of the [Supreme Court] judgment will be that few, if any, politically controversial decisions taken by minsters will be out of bounds for the courts,” said Adam Wagner, a human rights lawyer and expert on constitutional law.

He said Tuesday’s ruling made a written constitution “more likely” in the long term.

“Many will be uneasy with the courts taking an increasingly muscular role over hybrid political and legal issues which just a decade ago they may have refused to get involved,” he said.

“Ultimately, the court says it is revealing constitutional principles but some will argue the justices are creating them. A written constitution could resolve that tension, though experience from other jurisdictions suggest it would not solve it,” he added.

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[sleepymarmot]

Twilight Mirage liveblog 4/5 (episodes 55-63)

55-56

Ha, Austin rereads the passage I just came back to relisten 

Yeah, this only proves the point that you can't put the wellbeing and infrastructure of an entire society on the shoulders of 300 people with superpowers, and the warmth of their personal relationship with the rest ot the people! Sorry, I can't make myself sad about this system that was ridiculous and inherently unsustainable from the start!

But how about… Not mean humans ~enslaving innocent Divines~ because they're not idealistic enough or too utilitarian or w/e… not the Divines going “Oh no the 30k years of our love weren't real! You only want us for our bodies! Guess we'll die” and flopping over… How about Divines actually step up and sacrifice themselves willingly for the common good, you know, the way countless humans have done in this universe across both arcs?! “They could be made to be what Candidates once were” Oh boo fucking hoo!

I'm just. Thinking of C/w finale and how unnecessarily brutal it was and how many people sacrificed themselves and others for the greater good. And you're telling me that the Divines and the entire Fleet as a society are too precious for that? And I don't mean sacrifice yourself like Belgard, I mean the bigger picture. A utopia that isn't for everyone isn't a utopia, etc, see that post about The Good Place that got a surprising amount of notes lol

Also count me as an Independence kin still. I would absolutely break up with someone over the right to die (then run away and make everyone really upset by my mere presence then behave in such a way they have to kill me, twice. Okay maybe not this part)

Honestly the whole concept of the Fleet sounds so toxic. It's like being fully financially dependent on your beloved parents forever.

Oh wait here's another thing I must rage about: they stopped making new Divines so that they wouldn't be enslaved! Here's a novel idea: how about instead making a Divine that could be turned into a more productive machine… you make that machine in the first place??? You know, how people in real life make machines to use instead of manual labor??

Like, the problem with Divines is a two-sided coin:

Flawed individuals should not possess inordinate amounts of power. They might abuse it, misuse or just use with good intentions but in controversial or questionable ways (see: the Divines in Counter/weight).

As a flip side, making an entire community almost fully dependent on labor of a small group of sentient beings of a separate species is an unfair burden to them, and even if it is provided willingly. The benefitters become dependent on providers, which is exacerbated by the latter's small numbers (the Fleet being thrown into a crisis by the loss of the final Divines and only coming out of it fine because another superpowered being happened to be nearby). The providers are put at risk of exploitation (the Divines of being “enslaved/killed”), especially since they are outnumbered. The benefitters’ genuine love for the providers is undermined and may eventually be corrupted and superseded by their vested interest in maintaining this arrangement -- but at the same time, wanting more resources is a natural thing and people cannot and should not be blamed for it. This relationship may be mutually beneficial (and it was for an astonishingly long time) but carries an inherent risk.

So Divines potentially have too much and too little power at the same time. Both of these problems could have been avoided if “a special kind of synthetic beings” and “algorithms and robots that provide unique services that form the backbone of society” were two separate things in the first place! Fine, you can't undo what happened tens of thousands of years ago under very specific circumstances and specific threat, but you could try to recognize the problem instead of building a community whose structure is bound to bring that problem to the forefront sooner or later. 

Okaaay, so where did the Divines that “didn't make the cut”, other than Independence, go? Is there a club of really bitter superpowered rejects somewhere?

I really don't get why Tender is having such a crisis

Austin and Janine are a pair of sadistic bastards lmao

I can't believe it's only been an hour into the episode, feels like an eternity (in a good way)        

On the one hand, it's nice that at least Anticipation was thinking about the things I wrote above. On the other, “They could be made to be what Candidates once were” becomes even more ridiculous, because Anticipation is using her excerpt like a candidate Right Now! In order to determine whether she and her kin should be used! 

Tender gets her own version of the “Independence makes Grand an offer he can't refuse” scene :D 

Okay, my first objection to “giving it to Sho” was “um, you want to waste that resource on becoming a museum piece?!” but my current one is, unlike the players' “Anticipation would hurt Sho”, is “do you really want to combine this with Sho's high-strung personality?”

Aaand Tender makes the right choice :D I'm glad.

Wow! This second episode has wildly exceeded all my expectations. What a ride

57-59 

No offense, but I wish the three episodes of “everything is Advent's fault somehow, again” didn't stand in my way to the much superior premise of “Grand Magnificent and Waltz Tango Cache rescue Fouteen from a newly arrived rival faction's flagship”. God, I hope this goes in some interesting unexpecting direction asap. 

Wait, was it ever mentioned that Echo's family is also separated onto the two planets? That's new to me, and it would have been relevant to the first post-Miracle arc. 

Gig making a bold move, getting hit with 4 stress at once and gaining a status at the beginning of the mission: 

Blease tell me someone has redrawn that Community gif with Echo entering the completely trashed ship. That's such a good image

The entire throwing maneuver and the rolls they got… Absolutely fucking crazy

I actually yelped out loud when Echo failed a fucking desperate roll inside the light beam

How come Echo's nanites were inactive before but got activated now? How does that work? 

It's strange how suddenly the show got intense again! The missions after the Miracle felt fun but unengaging for me, and I didn't expected it to pick up until the finale. So many ups and downs in this arc! Can't believe how quickly and often it went from “we basically won” to mortal danger in about one turn. The title should have been “Echo Reverie's Terrible, Bad, No Good Day”… Glad to see the theme of the weight of violence back. It feels very natural as a conflict between Even and Echo, but I wonder if later it would involve Grand Magnificent too – the discussion during Even's message for Cascabel reminded me of what I wrote after the holiday special.

60-61 

Being one of the only two party members doesn't suit Waltz, he has to act dumb for the sake of player agency 

I understand why Jack wants to see what the “new job” is about, but not why Fourteen does!

Ending the recap on “Now you're gonna go your separate ways, and everything's gonna fall apart” is, um, nice

Wait, why is Fourteen on their last life? And how would they know that?

Oh, here's the arms dealer Grand Magnificent I was waiting for lmao Although to be honest… That design wasn't that special in terms of military power, right? I remember the disussions of its complex appearance and the difficulty of shaping the material into this multifaceted sculpture, but it didn't have any innovative armor or weaponry, right? It's not like it's the first and only q-glass mech. I mean, setting aside the base problem that it might not be the most wise and ethical idea to give weapons to the amoral people for whom you just delivered a bomb (and are trying to ignore that fact) while they're tearing your friend's body apart, and that they would have settled for less… it's not like he gave them the part of the actual Divine Independence. I guess we'll see what Advent will do…

At some point Jack, I think, said that Grand is acting like Lem and I was like. Please don't. Can you not go into that direction in the future too please. I've already been concerned about his character arc since finishing Winter and this isn't helping!

Anyways today I had enough free time to listen to five episodes and now I'm hungover and also sad. I'm glad Grand Magnificent didn't suddenly become heroic but also this is depressing. Can't wait for everyone (minus him posssibly?) to finally meet and share the wild shit that happened to them recently. Tender is an excerpt! Fourteen is a knight and also on the brink of dying forever for some reason! Echo has fought in a civil war against their brother! Grand sold out to everyone's #1 enemy and left!

I don't really get ending episode on so much exposition… I understand the awkwardness of retelling an event that was intended to happen onscreen, but when Schism attacked, I assumed that fighting it would be the finale. On the other hand, I thought the same about the September Incident, and how happy I was to be wrong!

62-63

The downtime episode was excellent – exactly the thing I like! Two notes:

I can't be the only one bothered by the use of the word “fascist”, right? Greedy cynical bandits and graverobbers, capitalists, terrorists, whatever… but what does fascism do with any of that?

Everyone's plans for the future were pretty vague, but what I really didn't get was the heart of the debate between Signet and the Cadent. It sounded as if they were talking about the same thing with different words sometimes…

The doctor is Jace, correct? Rapid Evening, academic career, stratis, husband and wife, used to be rivals with someone named Rose? I had to relisten to the entire vignette looking for clues and trying to rememer anyone who would fit all of these descriptors.