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noivoom · 1 year

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Okay, after several days of brainstorming and debating with myself, I have finally decided to emerge from The Lurking Pit and share this little (“little”) thing! This AU came about from my love of dysfunctional family tropes as well as my desire for everyone to live (honestly I mostly just wanted to daydream fanfic ideas without having to navigate canon’s minefield of problems, began wondering what an “ideal” situation would look like, and this spawned out of it)

The point of this was to, again, create an “ideal” situation for the gang, with potential for all kinds of Shenanigans™ and Drama™ alike while still keeping everyone as close to their canon selves as possible, as a bit of relief from all the angst :’) (I say “ideal situation,” but that doesn’t mean they haven’t still got issues galore. *cough*SUNNEEDSTHERAPY*cough*) (If, on the off chance anyone is inspired by this and/or wants to make something with this setting, please let me know! I’d LOVE to see it! :D)

I call it- One big UnHappy Family!

TL;DR Sun, Moon, Lunar, Earth, KC, Bloodmoon, and Solar Flare are all alive and well and somehow ended up as the world’s most Complicated™ family. Chaos ensues.

As for how they wound up that way? WELL. I’m gonna start rambling now, please bear with me

It starts with Sun shooting Bloodmoon. Sun didn’t fully know if he really wanted to kill Bloodmoon, was fighting internally to come to a decision one way or another and therefor wasn’t actually aiming when a moment of reflex kicked in, and the barrel went off. And he misses. Well... mostly. Bloodmoon takes a decent amount of the shot, and though it doesn’t kill them, they’re left severely damaged. It’s quite a confronting sight for Sun- while in canon there was nothing left of BM for Sun to really understand the weight of what he just did (at first, anyway), here he’s immediately confronted with another animatronic panicking and in pain as their nanomachines desperately try to rebuild them :’) Nothing like a bit of visual trauma to hit home that your actions have consequences, amirite? Moon investigates the barrel shot and sudden screaming (from both BM and Sun) to find... this. He’d probably have several things in mind to say to Sun about shooting BM, but he’d hold off for now. And thus begins one hell of a domino effect.

While fixing Bloodmoon, it becomes apparent the barrel shot corrupted some of their code. Nothing particularly bad, but oddly enough, it seems to have somehow also curbed their bloodlust. The lack of cravings leave the twins disoriented and kinda lost, but it’s also... almost a relief. Lunar takes advantage of this, introducing them to new things to occupy their time, and wow, who knew they could find entertainment in something other than homicide and appalling crimes against humanity? They’re still Bloodmoon, of course, they still have to be held back from killing people, but that’s not all they wanna do anymore. And food! Now that their bloodlust is out of the way food tastes so much better, there’s so many different flavours and textures and they gotta try everything and whoops, they’ve accidentally found themselves on the world’s weirdest redemption arc. (So, uh, thanks for shooting them after all, Sun...? I guess?)

Meanwhile KC, concerned over Bloodmoon’s wellbeing, convinces Moon to let him watch over them during their recovery. As the twins begin discovering new things that satisfy themselves, KC, trying to be Dad™, joins them. He’s never actually participated in anything that doesn’t involve murder, and much of these activities are uninteresting to him, but something about doing it with his sons... it actually... satisfies something in him, too. (None of them are particularly good at finding non-violent hobbies, mind you, but Lunar, Sun and Moon help out. Mostly to keep them occupied. They have no idea what’s going on, but they much prefer whatever the hell this is to evil plotting.) Eventually Moon relaxes a little when he realises KC intends to stay true to their deal, and occasionally switches off while KC’s out rather than watching him like a hawk. This leads to KC exploring on his own and running into Glamrock Freddy. He panics a little and pretends to be Moon. A parallel of their canon talk happens and oh would you look at that, KC’s accidentally Dad-ed his way into a redemption arc of his own! (No dead Bloodmoon means Sun doesn’t McFreaking Lose It, which means Lunar doesn’t move out and get killed, and also means the magic circle isn’t destroyed, which means Moon doesn’t get stuck in his head and get his memories wiped! :D Huzzah!) (Sun is still in desperate need of therapy though)

Eclipse is, of course, rather indignant at this turn of events. He never like the Blood Twins or KC, but seriously? Just like that?! It’s almost insulting. Not to mention it screws up his plan (not that he’d had a chance to flesh out said plan yet anyway). He continues regardless, taking over Solar Flare’s body to... do something. I’ll admit, I haven’t exactly figured out what his new course of action would be. Regardless, he ends up making his own body and ditches Solar Flare without a second thought. Solar Flare, alone and deeply disturbed over having their body hijacked so easily, is at a loss for what to do when they stumble upon Earth! Or more accurately, she stumbles upon them. She comforts them and they go with her to the Daycare. (I also don’t know if Earth would have already joined the DCA crew or if she just shows up fashionably late with Starbucks Solar Flare. Both are funny; either she shows up as a stranger with another stranger like “yes hello I’m your new sister, also I decided to bring this vaguely traumatised stranger along with me, hope you don’t mind :)” or she goes for a walk and comes back with this stranger like “can we keep them? *puppy eyes*”) Thus, Solar Flare joins the family!

Honestly... despite everyone else getting redeemed/joining the family, I think it’s funniest if Eclipse stays a bad guy. Everyone else is learning about themselves and growing as individuals/family, meanwhile Eclipse is over there being a stubborn, petty, lonely bastard and refusing to acknowledge that the reason he is miserable everywhere he goes is because every time he goes somewhere, he is there. Also he creates the conflict needed for further plot to happen. Also also I don’t think he’d take the option of redemption if it was handed to him on a silver platter accompanied by a ten-page essay on why it’s the best choice for everyone, especially him. (But who knows! I guess it is possible, it would just be a lot of work. He’d have to really want to be better and put the work in. Even then, I imagine he’d probably end up going his own way. It’d be for the best after all the trauma he’s inflicted.)

The FUNNIEST pat of all of this is when Glamrock Freddy visits the Daycare to talk to Sun and Moon about something only to see Sun yelling and chasing Bloodmoon, who’s knocking over and destroying EVERYTHING, Lunar running after them playing the Benny Hill theme, Solar Flare robotically restacking the barrels one pile at a time (seemingly oblivious to the fact that Bloodmoon knocks them over again as soon as they turn their back, creating an endless cycle they don’t seem to question), Earth calling out for everyone to please not hurt themselves, and Moon just... sitting there, rubbing his temples. “... Hey Freddy,” Moon says, not looking up. “... What the heck is going on?” “Family bonding.” “Family- where the heck did all these people even come from?!” “It’s a long story.”

If you’ve read all this, thank you so much for hearing me out <3 I’ll admit, most of my thought processes behind this boil down to “I just think it’s neat” and “because I think it’s funny”. This is supposed to be just for fun, after all. Please tell me what you think! There’s SO MUCH more to this, from evolving family dynamics to specific character development and even Monty, this post is all just the basic set-up of how the gang got to where they are. I have SO MANY more thoughts about this setting, it’s a disaster and a half and I’d love to discuss it please give me an excuse to ramble more

#scuttles out of the aether to drop this and bolts #tsams #The Sun And Moon Show #sorry about the length #I just needed to ramble #tsams au #One Big UnHappy Family #I love them so much #screw it no more editing just POST

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jimlingss · 3 years

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can i request a yoongi chef au? i feel like yoongi's culinary skills are underrated, and I'm just a slut for chef aus in general

Anonymous said: Hi I saw ur request open posts for the new year!!! Could u write more yoongi stories🥺?!?! Your stories are so fantastic and i’m thirsty for more yoongi lolol🤪(hopefully u get enough votes to do more of him haha)

I feel like Jin’s the one who’s usually written as the chef, prob because he’s the better known chef in BTS, but you’re right! There’s gotta be more chef Yoongi!AUs, so here you go!!!

↳ Buttering Up

2.2k || 100% Fluff & Flirtation || Min Yoongi || Chef!AU

He clearly doesn’t know who you are.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

You hum, arms crossed as you eye him up and down. His black hair is practically a bowl cut, bangs covering his forehead. He’s in casual clothes — a taupe trench and black pants — looking like he’s ready for a trip to the grocery store rather than to cook. You wonder where this child crawled out from.

“You’re Yoongi?”

“That I am.” He approaches the door of the restaurant before plunging his hands inside his trench coat pockets. He fishes out the key and unlocks it, ushering you inside. “Hope you don’t mind that the restaurant’s closed down.”

You mind much more that he left you waiting on the cold city street for over ten minutes. You still can’t believe he was late. The audacity.

“I would’ve liked to see how you and your staff do your dinner service.”

“Unfortunately, we’re booked full for the next two months.”

You scoff — how doesn’t he know who you are? You’re a food critic who’s brought highly regarded restaurants to their knees through a review of five sentences. Your words alone has had rippled effects in the industry. Even the most talented chefs hold their breaths when you taste-test.

You make Gordon Ramsey look like Mother Teresa.

This Yoongi character is much too arrogant to not respect you. His new and upcoming restaurant might have raving reviews, but you’ll see what’s really going on.

“Sit wherever you’d like.”

There are no waiters in fancy garb, no hand sewn tablecloths made of silk. He doesn’t even pull out the chair for you. Instead, he’s off flickering on the lights of the restaurant while you choose a wooden table and chair right in front of his open kitchen — which is a horrible mistake in itself.

Open kitchens have always been a concept that has fallen short in your eyes. It’s much too noisy during dinner service and it gets smelly fast. Who actually wants to leave smelling like butter and oil?

It’s something you note as you get settled.

Your coat drapes at the back of the chair and then you watch him. Yoongi’s taken off his trench as well, revealing a white long sleeve that he’s beginning to roll up to his elbows. He’s lean and his build is small, but somehow, he’s far from being scrawny. You gawk at the veins running up his forearm until he casually asks—

“Do you have a preference for wine?”

“I’m fine with any.”

He hums and comes over from the glass cabinet with a bottle of chardonnay and a wine glass. Yoongi pops the bottle easily and pours into the pristine glass with a mere tilt of his wrist. You watch the stream fill the glass a quarter way full.

“Is there a menu?”

“You don’t need one.”

Your brows raise. “Excuse me?”

“If I were you, I’d put myself in the chef’s hands entirely and go with their recommendation.” He strides away, placing the wine bottle on the other table and then he turns with a glint in his eye and his mouth slightly crooked upwards. “Unless, of course, you don’t trust your chef.”

Oh. He’s confident.

You can’t wait for his ego to blow up in his face.

“Fine then.” Your head tilts upwards. “What’s your recommendation then?”

He rounds his way to go into the kitchen that’s only a few meters away from where you sit. “Risotto with grilled chicken breast, topped off with caramelized onions, mushroom, grilled zucchini and sautéed tomatoes.”

You roll your eyes. What a basic dish. Isn’t it just rice? And with chicken breast?! Ew. It's guaranteed to be bland.

“Alright then.” You give a smile that might be more mocking than intended. “We’ll see how it tastes.”

Yoongi starts and while sipping the chardonnay, you take a good look at the restaurant from your spot. The place is rustic with a hint of contemporary. There’s exposed brick, wooden tables and chairs, and low, yellow lighting. There’s nothing particularly impressive about the place.

Soon, the sound of rapid, rhythmic chopping fills the space and then sizzling. You watch him intently. And you’re appalled. This Yoongi guy commits the worst cooking sins — his pan is cold when he starts throwing on ingredients. He cooks with olive oil. He overcrowds the pan. And he doesn’t even taste test once as he cooks.

What the actual fuck.

There’s a line between arrogance and insanity, and he was crossing it.

You cringe when he starts using his metallic spatula on the non-stick skillet.

Is he even qualified to run a restaurant?!

Or maybe your assistant sent you information about the wrong restaurant? Or maybe this was not the guy you were supposed to be eating from. What if he poisons you or kills off all of your taste buds?! Your career would be ruined.

“Everything going okay?” you pipe up.

He glances up at you for the first time, eyes peering past his bangs. “Yep. Should be done in five.”

Food is simple. It either tastes good or it doesn’t. But the higher up you go and the fancier it gets, the more convoluted the food tastes with bland flakes of gold and the same old truffle shavings. That or it’s entirely boring and unoriginal.

Or in this case, it might kill you. Which would be the first. And you’re not happy about it.

You feel unsettled when he plops the dish in front of you.

“Chef’s recommendation.”

“Thanks.”

You feel unsettled because it actually smells good. The aroma that fills your senses is flavoursome and buttery, and the thyme on top adds a fresh hint. You’re also unsettled because the plating isn’t actually bad. It’s been presented in a pasta bowl with wavy designs and the chicken breast is thinly and neatly sliced on top. It’s clean. It’s bright. It’s colourful.

But the most lethal poisons are the appetizing ones.

“Are you going to wait until it gets cold?”

You look up, brows raising at how he’s gotten comfortable in the chair across from you. Usually the chefs and waiters or waitresses like to skedaddle off and leave you to your own thoughts, too afraid to stand in your intense scrutiny. But Min Yoongi twists off the cap of his water bottle and casually downs it in front of you.

“I’m just looking at the presentation.”

“Tastes better than it looks,” he exhales after swallowing his water.

Your expression becomes skeptical. But you take the silver spoon beside you anyhow and decide not to waste any more time.

The spoonful goes into your mouth. He watches you. You chew.

Instantly, you halt.

The flavour hits your tongue. Creamy. Thick. But each individual grain of rice still has some firmness with a discernible texture. It’s been done al dente. There’s sweetness from the caramelized onions. An earthy flavour from the mushrooms. A zesty touch from the thyme. The chicken breast is somehow still juicy and the tomatoes burst on your palate.

Suddenly, you’re thrusted back into your childhood. Those summer days spent in the cottage. Sun-kissed cheeks, dirtied knees, cotton dresses. You can hear your late grandmother in the kitchen. The way she calls out that it’s lunchtime. You can feel the comfort of family and love.

It feels like you’ve become the food critic in the ratatouille movie.

You almost cry.

“What do you think?”

You clear your throat. You have to be honest. There’s no way you can lie about something like this. “It’s good. I think...this is the best risotto I’ve ever had. You cooked it perfectly and the toppings you chose were absolutely immaculate with this dish—”

You look up at him. Min Yoongi has an enormous, cocky smirk plastered across his stupid face.

It’s entirely off-putting.

“But of course,” you quickly add, “there are many ways you could improve on it. You could add cilantro—”

“That would unnecessarily drown out the notes of thyme you taste,” he rebukes without a single beat and you scoff.

“I noticed you didn’t add any pepper to it which could deepen the flavour.”

“Except this dish doesn’t need it,” Yoongi deadpans. “You don’t need to help me make any adjustments. I think I know what I’m doing better than you are. Just do your job and I’ll do mine.”

You suck in your cheek and narrow your eyes on him before you take another bite of the risotto while it’s still hot. “The food is delicious, but I must say, the company really spoils it.”

Yoongi’s slumped with one cheek resting in his hand, elbow on the table. He lazily stares at you with that smirk of his. “Really? Because if I didn’t know any better, you look nervous rather than annoyed.”

You scoff for the second time. “Why would I be nervous?”

“Maybe you didn’t expect the food to taste as good as it does and that makes me unexpectedly attractive,” he states plainly. You almost choke. You hit your chest as you sputter. “Or maybe you’re intimidated by me. I’ve gotten both before.”

You wipe your mouth with the napkin. “I’m afraid you’re not very perceptive, Min Yoongi.”

“Really? I think I am.” He smiles, the corners of his mouth quirked. “I’ve read your reviews before.”

You’re unamused. “Have you now? So you must know how difficult I am to satisfy.”

His smirk is sly and it’s jarring against his softer, more tender features. He’s smaller than the men you’re used to being around, but somehow it feels like he’s taken up the entire space of the restaurant. His focus on you is sweat-inducing. Even if you don’t want to admit it.

“I don’t think so. You’ve just been eating shit food,” he says bluntly and your brow cocks. “You just need someone good you can trust. Someone who can take care of you properly.”

You’re not sure if the double entendre is purposeful. You wouldn’t put it past him.

“And is this someone you?”

Yoongi shrugs and sits back. “It could be.”

You grab your glass of chardonnay and gulp the rest in an effort to stop the conversation before it completely derails into a different direction. Yet, Yoongi’s half-lidded and darkened eyes stay on yours with each swallow. He’s unfazed. Unbothered. And that bothers you even more — bothered in a way that makes your face hot.

There’s a clack as you put the wine glass down and gasp.

“I’m a professional.” You won’t be swayed so easily. “I can’t be bribed.”

“Of course.” He blinks as if he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. You glare at him and he gestures to the dish. “Please. Keep eating.”

You finish the plate.

“Do you want any seconds?” he asks as he gets up.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Yoongi lingers, all too brazen and fearless. “If you don’t get any more now, you might have to come back for more.”

This time, you don’t try to hide the roll of your eyes. “That’s a presumptuous assumption.”

Yoongi smirks and his voice is husky. “After getting a taste from me, everyone comes back for more.

You scoff.

Min’s Restaurant Review

Three nights ago, I ate at Min’s Restaurant and met the main man in the kitchen. Unfortunately, he is a difficult person to interact with. I hope no one has the disservice of having to speak to the chef behind the dishes. Doing so may as well ruin the experience. Furthermore, his cooking methods are unconventional and unorthodox. It was completely shocking to watch.

However, and what I would consider most important, the food at Min’s Restaurant is spectacular. What Min’s Restaurant lacks in likeable personnel, they make up in the served cuisine. The meal that was prepared for me not only subverted my initial expectations, but overcomes, what I consider, what the food industry is lacking in this modern age exactly. Without unnecessary garnishes and ingredients, the flavours of Min’s Restaurant are both light and deep. It was an undeniable delight to consume and for the first time, I licked my plate clean.

It is undoubted that the man behind Min’s Restaurant has the hands of god.

You should have pride.

But you’ve always loved good food. It’s your Achilles heel. It’s the one thing you’ve been passionate about since you were a kid. The reason why you love your job.

Even after writing such a review, you find yourself booking another reservation. But as a customer instead of a critic.

Of course, they were booked full for the next six months, largely thanks to your review, and they swiftly refused you with numerous apologies. But they called back not ten minutes later. You have a feeling that your name finally sunk into them — that he had something to do with it.

That theory is confirmed when you arrive. The person in question is next to the seemingly nervous hostess as the noisy kitchen echoes throughout the busy restaurant.

In the low lighting, Min Yoongi stands there with a relaxed smirk. As if he was expecting you. As if he knew you’d come crawling back to him to eat out of the palm of his hand, literally and figuratively.

You hate that he’s right.

“Welcome back.”

#bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff #yoongi scenario #yoongi reader insert #bts scenario #bts fluff #bts reader insert #yoongi x reader #honestly this is one of my favourite drabbles out of the entire collection #I think someone else mentioned there's not enough flirty Yoongi out there #AND I AGREE #this man naturally has big dick energy and I love it lmao #jimlings #Anonymous

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tearlessrain · 3 years

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a definitive ranking of horrible food-like items I have regretted putting in my mouth so far, from worst to least-worst:

expired pirate booty: it smelled and tasted strongly of sour milk but I ate one before I noticed. I may never recover. certainly I will never trust again.

liquid stevia: my shitty roommates in college who never cleaned the kitchen also left me to clean a bunch of shit on move-out day so I took all their spices. one of the things in the cupboard was liquid stevia, which I hadn’t heard of, so I licked it to see if I wanted it and I really really really didn’t want it. and then the taste stayed in my mouth for like an hour. it tasted like like it was possibly manufactured in a hospital. I returned the devil’s molasses to the cupboard and stole three containers of cinnamon instead.

lemon seed: I accidentally added it to my stir fry and later thought it was a small piece of chicken. so bitter that it triggered my gag reflex, which I didn’t know was possible. still doesn’t beat out the stevia on the grounds that it faded quickly and the stir fry was otherwise delicious (chicken and bok choy in soy sauce, mirin, and a squeeze of, to my subsequent peril, fresh lemon juice. highly recommend, but substitute the lemon seed with no lemon seed)

lump of Combos™ filling that I thought was a piece of pretzel: somehow saltier than salt. wasn’t too bad until I decided it wasn’t too bad and tried to power through it, and then I experienced what it might be like if the total sodium content of the Utah salt flats was somehow concentrated entirely within the prohibitively small surface area of my mouth. but like, if Utah was faintly pizza-flavored.

mysteriously cube-shaped chewing gum: found in the same cabinet as the liquid stevia and previously belonged to one of the shitty roommates. I was compelled to put it in my mouth purely because it was cube-shaped. it instantly crumbled into the texture of dried-up organic toothpaste, which is an appalling texture that I would only wish on about six people. probably severely expired, but tasted fine. between this and the stevia, it occurs to me that god may have been punishing me for my kitchen-based illegal salvage operation. or maybe I just shouldn’t have been blindly trusting the culinary judgement of someone who couldn’t boil pasta without destroying my saucepan.

surprise Warhead sourball: among the lowest on the list due to the fact that they’re supposed to be like that and the taste is theoretically fine, but I was like ten years old and I thought it was a gumball and I’m reeling to this day from just how sour it was. what the fuck are those things. nobody should eat them without an entire glass of water and a safeword.

a single argentine ant. I was six and I’d read somewhere that they tasted like lemon so I found one and ate it. it bit my tongue hard but it tasted fine. I can’t really blame it.

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roman-writing · 3 years

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no great revelation (6/8)

Fandom(s): The Haunting of Bly Manor / Star Wars

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: M

Wordcount: 6,797

Summary: Jamie just wants to enjoy a drink after a hard day’s work on the Telosian Restoration Project. The last thing she needs is to get herself caught up in a mysterious woman with a lightsabre at the local bar.

Aurthor’s notes: Please note the rating change

read it below or read it here on AO3

VI.

—

It was somewhat gratifying to know that Jamie wasn’t the only one who was absolute shit at meditation.

“This is pointless,” said Dani with her eyes closed.

“You’re telling me,” Jamie muttered, her eyes also shut.

They were both seated on the massive bed, cross-legged and facing one another. Jamie had ordered the ship’s computer to dim the lights, so that the room was dusky, the ship’s computer even going so far as to project pinpricks of light onto the high ceiling like a map of stars. Back when Jamie had been a padawan, the Jedi Masters used to do something similar back on Tython to encourage that e’er-elusive quest for inner peace. Jamie used to take the opportunity to take a quick nap while she pretended to meditate, but she couldn’t do that now because she was trying to set a good example or whatever.

“Have you tried slowing down your breathing?” Jamie asked, keeping her eyes closed and straightening her shoulders a bit.

“This is just how I breathe.”

“Yeah, but have you tried slowing it down?”

“When I do that it just feels like I’m slowly drowning.”

“Okay, then what about relaxing your body one part at a time?”

“One -? What?”

“You know. Think about relaxing just the muscles of your face, and then move on to your shoulders, and so on.”

Dani huffed, and Jamie heard her shifting her weight on the bed before going still. All was silent but for the pattern of their breathing and Jamie’s heartbeat accompanying it like a percussion instrument. Sitting still. Being still. Thinking and doing nothing. In short, the most difficult activity for Jamie to attempt ever in her life. She would rather be back on Peter Quint’s flagship, dodging blaster fire.

Okay, maybe not that far. But honestly sitting still for long periods of time really was her own personal hell.

The air whispered with a hint of cold, like standing in a room with a window open, the tendril of an icy draught threading its way inside. Jamie shrugged against it, but kept her eyes closed. It was only when the whisper of cold lifted to a prickle, when the sound of Dani’s breathing grew too shallow, that Jamie’s eyes flew open.

Dani was still seated on the bed, eyes squeezed shut, brows furrowed, every exhalation through her nose a plume of white steam, shivering as if she were on the surface of an ice planet instead of in the warm safety of the luxury cruiser.

Immediately Jamie grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Woah. Woah woah woah. Not that way.”

Dani jerked as though she had just been shaken away from a deep sleep. Her eyes were on the edge of wild as she looked around the room, her breathing heavy and sharp and slowing when she remembered where exactly she was.

“Oh,” she said with a guilty glance towards Jamie. “Did I - Did I do it again?”

With a stroke of her thumb across the back of Dani’s cold hand, Jamie nodded. “Yeah.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean -”

“I know,” Jamie murmured. “I know. Don’t worry. This time tomorrow, we’ll be on Tython, and we can get you a much better teacher than me.”

Dani swallowed and nodded, but her expression was unsure, reluctant even.

“You’ll like Hannah and Owen,” Jamie insisted. “If anyone can teach you, they can.”

“It’s not that. It’s just -” Dani turned her face away and exhaled. She chewed at her lower lip. “What if I’m caught? What if The Order doesn’t care that I was - that I’m not -”

Frowning, Jamie asked, “Not what?”

“Good,” said Dani.

“What like -?” Jamie grinned. “Not good at the Force? ‘Cause they’d throw me out on my ass with nary a care if that were the case.”

“No, that’s not what I -” Dani’s teeth were clenched, the muscles bunched up between the line of her neck and her jawline. “I killed people. I killed a Jedi. There’s already an investigation into his murder. And I can’t even channel the Force on my own without slipping into the Dark.”

Jamie shook her head while she listened. “You weren’t yourself. And once we find a cure for whatever is going on with you, then you can be trained properly.”

“What if we can’t?” Dani whispered. “What if there’s nothing to be done? What if I’ll always have this - this angry, empty, lonely thing haunting me?”

Jamie rocked Dani’s hand beneath her own gently. “We’ll find a way. We just need to take it one day at a time.”

Every muscle in Dani’s body seemed to be held taut. The tightness of her jaw. The flex of her hands. The bunching of her shoulders and the muscles all along her spine. Her hand was still cold under Jamie’s grasp, though the wintry edge had been blunted from the air around her. Jamie offered her an encouraging smile, but did not receive one in return.

“We should get some sleep,” Jamie sighed, pulling away. “We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow -”

But Dani was scrambling to her knees and she was gripping Jamie’s hand tightly in her own before Jamie could fully let go. Her fingers trembled and her eyes were overbright, fixed and unblinking upon Jamie’s, holding her fast. “Not yet,” she said quickly. “Not - I want to feel it again. Please. I want to feel good. I want - I want to feel you.”

Jamie could already feel the thrum beneath her skin, the Force like a tether between them, on the brink, but there. As if Dani were reaching out then waiting for permission to drag her in.

For the last four years, Jamie had been telling herself to keep her head down. Don't get involved. Mind her own bloody business. Don't do what she did back in ExplorCorps and paint a great big fuckoff target on her own back. And for four years, she had done exactly that. Telos IV and the AgriCorps were a fresh start, a good life, a simple, boring life. All it had taken to completely upend that life was a week of Dani Clayton.

Jamie nodded. Because it made relief sweep over Dani's face. Because it made Dani smile at her with that big smile that crinkled her eyes and creased her cheeks. Because it meant that connection snapped taut like a wire, drew them together into something more than the sum of their parts, more than this crude matter. Because it did indeed feel good.

Each brief contact of the Force between them had remained discrete in the past. Stolen moments in which Jamie tried to coax Dani towards the Light on her own. Now, Dani gripped her hand to keep the connection alive, a current like static, like the movement between the inchoate and the flourishing, and it extended to the horizon. Dani's eyes dropped to her mouth and Jamie should've known this was coming, shouldn't have been as surprised as she was when Dani leaned forward to kiss her.

Bad idea, Jamie’s pesky little inner voice kept saying over and over like a mantra. Bad idea. This is a bad idea. A very very bad -

She should have pulled away, called this off, cut the line. Except Dani was warm and solid and groaning low into Jamie’s mouth, a sound that coiled heat in the pit of Jamie’s stomach. She cupped Dani’s cheek with one hand, allowed herself to welter for a lingering moment in the softness of Dani's mouth, in the texture of her jaw, before she pulled them apart just enough to breathe, their foreheads still pressed together.

"I want -" Dani murmured urgently, so close Jamie could taste the words on her lips. Her free hand had grasped Jamie's collar, rumpling the starched white fabric in her fist. "Can I -?"

"Yeah," Jamie breathed, throwing any vestigial scrap of self-preservation out the airlock.

Dani kissed her again with a grateful sigh. Jamie couldn’t remember ever being kissed quite like this. With singular focus. As if there was nothing else in the world for Dani to do but kiss her and pour everything of herself into it.

"Kept thinking about this," Dani mumbled against her lips.

"Explains why you're so shit at meditation."

Dani huffed out a laugh and pressed her smile to Jamie's. She pulled at Jamie's collar shifting forward on her knees so she could lean over Jamie and turn the kiss from giddy glee to hungry in an instant. Jamie took off Dani's headband and threw it onto the bedside table beside the lightsabre so she could rake her hands through Dani's hair. With a tilt of her head, Dani opened her mouth and Jamie would've been appalled at her own weak whimper if she'd been in any state to care. She couldn’t. Not when Dani was kissing her like this. Not when Dani was pushing Jamie onto the bed and straddling her hips. Not when Dani was tugging the buttons of Jamie’s shirt free with trembling fingers.

They didn’t break contact even when Dani paused to gasp at Jamie’s thigh pressing up between her legs. Always some section of skin was touching, so that the link remained, buzzing around in the back of Jamie’s head like an amplifier. Every movement, every sound an echo caught on a feedback loop, building to something impossible to miss. Jamie could feel the way Dani’s blood stirred in her veins, the way Dani was grinding down against her thigh, the way Dani was tugging the shirt down her shoulders and casting it aside, as though the sensations were her own, but muted — a phantom feeling.

When she had imagined this — and over the last few days on the luxury cruiser, Jamie had in great detail imagined this — it had always been a slow, coltish thing. All start and stop, lazy hesitance and careful exploration. In her mind, Dani was keen but skittish, wanting but indecisive. Something to do perhaps with the long glances sent in Jamie’s direction, or the distrustful ventures into the Force. When it came to this however, Dani was uncertain about nothing.

Dani made excited little sounds against Jamie’s exposed neck when Jamie began to fumble with the button that fastened her pants. Jamie tugged at the zipper and Dani lifted herself up just enough so that Jamie could slip her hand down. Tugging lightly at Dani’s hair to get her to tilt her head back, Jamie sought out Dani’s pulsepoint with her mouth just as her fingers sought out slick heat.

There were too many clothes between them, far too many, but neither of them could bring themselves to pause for long enough to fix that. The pants shoved partway down Dani’s thighs gave Jamie little room to manoeuvre, but she had two fingers inside of Dani, and Dani was sitting upright to rock her hips at a better angle, eyes lidded, lips parted on a stuttered sigh.

“That’s -” Dani’s breath hitched. “Yes - Right there - Please -”

Jamie had to bite back a groan of her own when Dani bucked against her hand and made a high desperate sound, clenched and shivering, and the moment going on as it echoed back and forth, mirrored and caught between them. Feeling this good, this alive, this conjoined, then chasing after it with a fervor as Dani leaned down at the same time Jamie pushed herself up to kiss her hard.

“Keep going,” Dani panted against Jamie’s mouth, then gave a feeble cry when Jamie did exactly that — curled her fingers and ground her palm up until Dani was shuddering again, until she was spent.

Dani’s forehead dropped to Jamie’s shoulder to catch her breath. Jamie placed her free hand against Dani’s back, holding her close. She twitched the fingers still inside Dani, just an experimental press, and received a sharp inhalation.

“Too much?” Jamie asked softly.

“A little. Do it again.”

There was no building up to anything with it, just an extension of what had come before, flickers of pleasure that sparked at the edges of her vision, until Dani reached down to slide Jamie’s fingers out and lift them to her mouth.

“Fuck,” Jamie hissed as Dani licked her sticky fingers clean then nipped at her fingertips.

Dani glanced down Jamie’s chest, one hand drifting inquisitively over the high-waisted hem of her black slacks. “Is it all right, if I -?”

Jamie was already nodding before Dani could finish the sentence. “Yeah. Yeah. Whatever you want.”

When Dani pulled away to quickly shed her own clothes, Jamie felt the loss of that link like a light suddenly going out. She blinked and skimmed her fingertips along the curve of Dani’s elbow just to re-establish that contact until Dani had finished, until Dani was tugging the slacks down Jamie’s legs, smoothing her hands up Jamie’s bare thighs and watching her with hunger in her eyes.

Jamie settled back on her elbows, biting her lip, gaze fixed upon Dani as she lowered her head and parted Jamie with her tongue. She wanted to watch — eyes glued to the way Dani’s mouth moved against her, the way Dani urged her knees wider — but Jamie could not help how her eyes rolled back and she sank back onto the mattress with an embarrassingly loud sound despite how she tried to trap it behind her teeth.

She twined her hands in Dani’s soft hair and guided her head, shivering when Dani moaned against her in return. Maybe it was the sequence of events, being the one to make Dani completely fall apart while feeling the echo of that pleasure, but soon Jamie’s hips were jerking out of rhythm and she was raking her nails down the back of Dani’s neck and shoulders — anywhere she could reach — desperate and hurtling over the edge. Even after she had finished, breathlessly staring up at the star-studded ceiling, Dani toyed at Jamie with the tip of her tongue, just softly, just enough to keep her suspended like a bridge held aloft by the tightness of a rope.

And as Dani crawled back up her body to curl up against her, Jamie could think only that — of all the bad decisions in her life, this one would surely have the most dire consequences. She just didn’t know what those might be, and she was afraid of ever finding out.

—

There wasn’t much to pack, if anything. The majority of belongings they had begun with on this trip had been abandoned back on the Czerka flagship. Jamie was still lamenting the loss of her favourite pair of overalls and band shirt combination — wrecked at the courtesy of none other than Peter fucking Quint himself — as she pocketed her handheld mining laser. Behind her, Dani was fussing with her headband, trying to tease her hair into just the right shape all without the aid of a mirror.

“Does this look okay?” she asked, hands still tucking stray strands back.

A little flatter than usual, but all Jamie said was, “You look great. Better than me. Not that that’s hard.”

Dani smiled, lowering her hands only to approach Jamie and fix her starched white collar. “I think you look wonderful.”

Jamie made a face. “These clothes make me feel like I’m a conductor for a galactic circus.”

“You look very rakish. Like you’re about to strike some shady business deal.”

“Oh, well, if I’m rakish, then that’s all right.”

Dani’s smile ticked up at one corner and she leaned forward to kiss her. Jamie remembered waking up to a similar scene not long ago. A morning spent in much slower exploration than the previous evening until they were finger-mussed and kiss-bruised and had to go seeking a much-needed shower, during which Dani had ignored the mirrors in favour of pressing Jamie up against a tiled wall and putting her hands between her legs.

Now Dani put a hand to the small of Jamie’s back and pressed lightly, just enough to brush their hips together. Jamie opened her mouth as Dani’s tongue swept against hers.

A low chime from the ceiling. “Excuse me,” said the ship’s computer. “But we have arrived.”

Jamie pulled away. “We should probably go.”

“Yeah,” Dani nodded, but her gaze was fixed on Jamie’s mouth, as though she wanted nothing more than to lean back in and pick up where they’d left off this morning.

Jamie patted her arm and reached around to remove Dani’s hand from her waist. “Later.”

“Promise?”

With a soft huff of laughter, Jamie answered with another lingering kiss. A coil of heat wound tight in her stomach, and she stepped back before it could take root. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

Only reluctantly did Dani let herself be led from the luxury cruiser by the hand. The ship lowered the gangway for them with a jettison of atmo as it repressurised. The muggy air of Tython bore with it the old familiar smell of dense vegetation, even here on the planet’s major space station. As the station was revealed and all its bustling people and droids, Dani squeezed Jamie’s hand. Jamie looked up to find Dani nervously chewing her lower lip and staring out at the people, many of them wearing robes of various cut and colour, though their occupation was clear.

Squeezing her hand back before letting it go, Jamie opened her mouth to give an encouraging word, but before she could speak there came a low chime from the speaker ports.

“How would you like me to wait for your return?” the ship’s computer asked.

“Oh, uh -” said Jamie. “How much is it to dock here?”

“One hundred and thirty-five credits per day.”

“A hundred and thirty-five?” Jamie repeated, incredulous.

“Do you not have enough credits to afford this?”

Scowling, Jamie fired back, “Are you always this much of a tit?”

“Query irresolvable,” the ship’s computer responded. “I have no anatomy, because I have no body. I do, however, have a stockpile of credits from Czerka Corporation in a private account tied to this vessel and accessible only by this vessel.”

Jamie shot the speaker ports a puzzled glance. “And how long could you remain docked using this private account?”

“Approximately two hundred and three years.”

Jamie’s eyes widened as she did some quick maths in her head.

“Would you like me to dock here for two hundred and three years?”

“What?” Jamie shook her head. “No! Just - stay here until we get back. And don’t let anyone else aboard.”

“Affirmative, Bollocks.”

Muttering expletives under her breath, Jamie continued down the gangway.

“So, you’re rich now?” Dani asked.

“Only if I survive the next week,” Jamie said. “I’m going to worry about that later. C’mon. I see Owen over there.”

Dani’s head jerked up and she glanced around with wide eyes. Jamie smiled and shook her head, walking along with Dani trailing in her wake. Owen stood near the station entrance, wearing blue robes dusted with flour handprints, and a sheathed lightsabre at his hip. His moustache twitched in a smile when he noticed her approach and he stepped forward to squeeze Jamie in a hug that picked her up a good half meter off the ground.

“Oooof,” said Jamie as he set her back down, hands remaining on her shoulders.

“Look at you,” Owen said. “What do they feed you on Telos? Raw air and nothing else?”

She swatted his hands from her shoulders. “Fuck off. And why do you look like you’ve just escaped a bakery?”

“I’ve taken an interest in cooking while you’ve been away.”

“Thought you were supposed to be a healer, mate.”

“Food,” said Owen very seriously, “is healing. And I’ll not have you - oh no. Jamie. You didn’t.”

He was staring over her shoulder at something behind her. Jamie turned, only to find Dani standing there awkwardly toying with her own fingers as she witnessed their reunion, her mismatched eyes wary. Owen’s face went from confused, to aghast, then to hard and guarded.

“I can explain -” Jamie started to say.

Owen pointed — not at Dani but at the sleek luxury cruiser they’d just disembarked. “You told us you were done with smuggling for good.”

"It's not like that!" Jamie insisted.

“You wait ‘till Hannah hears about this, young lady,” he said with faux gravitas, wagging a finger under her nose.

“Oh, come off it!”

Grinning, Owen stepped forward to Dani with his hand outstretched. “You must be Miss Clayton. I trust you’ve been making sure Jamie hasn’t been getting into any trouble?”

With a breathy laugh, Dani hesitated to take his hand before finally shaking it as if expecting to be struck by sudden lightning. “To the contrary.”

He narrowed his eyes towards Jamie. “That doesn’t sound right. Has she been ill?”

“Oi!” Jamie snapped.

Owen chuckled, letting go of Dani’s hand and making shooing motions at the two of them. “Off we hop, then. I have the landspeeder parked outside and dinner in the oven.”

“Is that a euphemism?” asked Jamie.

Owen made no gesture, but Jamie felt a light repreminanding flick of the Force at the back of her head. “Don’t be naughty, now. We have a guest.”

Rubbing at the back of her head, Jamie followed him to the landspeeder. She offered Dani a brief encouraging smile, receiving something tremulous in return.

“He seems nice,” Dani said in a low voice.

“I am,” said Owen without turning around. “Thank you.”

Leaning closer to Dani, Jamie whispered, “And he’s got big ears.”

“I do, yes. Who wants the front seat?”

Jamie let Dani take it, so she herself could sprawl across the whole back seat and lean her head over the side of the landspeeder, the wind ruffling her unruly curls. In the front seat, Owen did his best to put Dani at ease while he drove, occupying her with polite talk of her home planet, Alderaan, how it compared to Tython, etc. Jamie only piped up when she heard her own name spoken, usually to correct one of Owen’s tall tales about her, which made Dani’s mouth curve in a smile that Jamie wanted to kiss away.

They had landed on the planet at dusk, and by the time they arrived at Hannah’s apartment in the outer fringes of the Temple complex it was dark. Hannah was sitting on a couch and scrolling through a dry holo feed depicting ancient texts, when Owen ushered them through the front door and into the lounge. In robes of rich burgundy hues against her dark skin, she was a picture of elegance just as Jamie remembered. Immediately she swiped the holo feed away and rose to her feet, crossing the room to pull Jamie into a warm hug and greet Dani with an outstretched hand.

“Do you want drinks?” Hannah asked. “Only I believe Owen had a specific wine he wanted to pair with tonight’s dinner.”

“Did you turn off the oven at -?” Owen started to ask but Hannah simply patted his darkly stubbled cheek.

“Of course I did, silly man. What do you take me for?” Hannah chided.

He grinned but made no move to lean into the gesture or otherwise react, and soon Hannah dropped her hand. Owen disappeared into the kitchen while Hannah urged Dani and Jamie to sit. Jamie sat on the couch, and when Dani sat beside her it was so close their thighs pressed together. Hannah’s dark eyes flicked down to note this, but she simply smiled and inquired about their trip.

With a hand towel tossed over one shoulder, Owen emerged from the kitchen not long later with a platter of savoury pastries, which he set on a table for easy access. Jamie swiped one up with an eager hand.

“Not bad,” she said to Owen, mid-chew. “I can feel my latest scar healing up already.”

“Shush you,” Owen said, swatting at her knees with the hand towel. Jamie snickered and reached for another pastry.

Meanwhile Hannah had sat on a lone armchair and turned her attention to Dani. “Jamie mentioned she had a Force Sensitive friend with a peculiar - ah - predicament, so to speak. She brought you to the right place.”

“Oh, I’m not,” Dani said with a flighty motion of her hand, “Force Sensitive.”

Hannah tilted her head. “What makes you say that?”

“It’s not me that uses the Force. It’s -” she pointed to her eye, the one that burned a constant gold these days, “- whatever this is.”

“And what makes you think you have nothing to do with it?” Hannah asked.

“Well,” Dani fumbled for a response. She was perched at the very edge of the couch, knees tucked together as if expecting a scolding from a teacher. “Peter said -”

“Peter?” Hannah rounded on Jamie with a flinty expression. “Don’t tell me you’re still getting yourself tied up with the likes of Peter bloody Quint.”

“I’m not!” Jamie said, trying to sound indignant but doing a very poor job of it since her mouth was full of pastry. She chewed quickly and swallowed so she could better defend herself. “Besides, he’s dead now!”

“Oh, that is a shame,” Owen sighed dreamily. “I would’ve liked to have seen it myself.”

“Who was the lucky bastard who killed him?” Hannah asked.

From the couch, Dani cleared her throat uncomfortably, then lifted her hand in a miserable little wave. Both Owen and Hannah exchanged surprised glances.

“It was an accident,” Dani said in a small voice.

“Well, brava,” said Owen.

Dani closed her eyes. “Please, don’t. I - uh -” she drew in a trembling breath and forged on, “I don’t know exactly what Jamie told you, but he wasn’t the only one.”

“Ah,” said Hannah shortly. “Yes, she did mention something about that. The dead Consular out by Vurdon Ka. Edmund, was it?”

Dani’s only reply was to nod and stare down at her socks; they’d all removed their shoes at the front door and set them into the cloak closet.

“Can’t imagine the investigation will come poking around here,” Owen added. “They’ll think you’ve run off to the Outer Rim to hide.”

Hannah hummed. “Yes, well, best we keep Miss Clayton inside for the duration of her visit, anyway.”

Dani stared at them in utter bewilderment. “But don’t you - Shouldn’t you be reporting me to the authorities?”

Owen tipped his head towards Jamie. “If this one vouches for you, then I believe you.”

Placing her hand over her heart, Jamie said, “That’s so romantic. You going soft on me?”

He knocked his foot against her ankle. “You wish.”

“If what you say is true,” said Hannah, ignoring their antics, “and you’re being inhabited by some Sith entity, then I rather think it our duty to help you, not put you down like a rabid dog.”

Owen cleared his throat. “About the Sith entity thing. Can we go back to that?”

"Quint said something about a -" Jamie trailed off, then turned to Dani. "What did he call it? The glowy box?"

"A holocron," Dani said.

Both Hannah and Owen turned to look at them with such sudden sharpness that Jamie nearly took a step back in surprise.

"A holocron," Hannah repeated. “You’re sure?”

"What colour was it?" Owen asked Dani before she could answer Hannah’s question. "Was it blue? Please say it was blue. I'll even take green."

Dani blinked, taken aback, and glanced nervously between them and Jamie before she answered, "It was red."

Hannah drew in a sharp breath and Owen grimaced as though he'd just been shot in the leg.

“Where is it now?” Hannah asked.

"Gone," Jamie said with a shake of her head. "In bits and pieces back on Quint's flagship."

"Not all of it."

The three of them — Hannah, Owen, and Jamie — all turned their attention to Dani, who was wringing her hands together in her lap. Then she reached into the sewn up makeshift pocket of her cloak and pulled out a single shard of black gold metal.

"I kept one of the pieces," Dani explained, holding it out towards them. "In case — I don't know — in case Peter tried to put it back together again."

“May I?” Hannah held out her hand.

Dani passed it over to her. Carefully, Hannah inspected it. Thin, triangular and gleaming darkly in the light. Jamie thought she could almost hear a faint whisper when she looked at it for too long, a cold fingertip brushing against the back of her neck, travelling down the length of her spine.

“There is part of an inscription here in the old Sith Tongue,” Hannah said, and she spoke a series of guttural words that seemed to darken the very air around her before translating them. “I sleep. I wake. I walk.”

“Mmm,” said Owen. “Hate that.”

“I’m so glad you two know what the hell is going on,” Jamie said dryly.

Shooting Jamie an exasperated look, Hannah handed the shard back to Dani. “Thank you, dear. What you have there is a piece of a very rare storage device made with the Force. Undoubtedly Sith in origin, and very ancient, too. Jedi use them as well. Holocrons contain information. Secrets. Wisdom. Power.”

Dani turned the metallic triangle over between the fingers as if trying to read the same inscription, or to glean something more. “And what did this one hold?”

“I haven’t the foggiest,” Hannah said with a soft smile. “Whatever that holocron once held is long gone now.”

Dani clenched the triangle in one fist. “But what if we had all the pieces?”

“Perhaps that would accomplish something. I doubt it.” Then Hannah added wryly, “You might be able to make a very fine lamp.”

In the other armchair, Owen snorted. Without looking in his direction, Jamie aimed a kick at his leg, which he easily dodged.

“That can’t be everything,” Dani said, knuckles going white, voice going shaky. “You have to know something more. There has to be more.”

Hannah shrugged. “I’ll look through the archives tonight. Maybe then we will have more answers.”

“That’s -”

"Tomorrow," said Hannah firmly yet kindly. She stood and urged Dani to her feet as well.

"But -" Dani started to say.

Hannah put a warm hand on Dani shoulder and steered her towards the dining room. "Tomorrow," she repeated. "We cannot solve the galaxy's problems in an evening."

—

After dinner, they retired to the lounge over a glass of wine. Hannah took Dani aside, where they murmured away together in a corner, while Jamie and Owen sat in armchairs across a polished stone firepit that had been dug into the ground. Dani wandered off to bed not long after with a lingering glance in Jamie’s direction, then Hannah left for the comforts of her archives, murmuring that same phrase in the old Sith Tongue as she went.

I sleep. I wake. I walk.

Jamie shivered in spite of herself. Owen watched her knowingly over the rim of his glass.

“How are you really?”

“You know me. Bold as brass,” Jamie muttered.

He glanced down the hallway, where Dani had gone and not emerged after the sound of a door shutting. “I shouldn’t have to tell you to be careful, so I won’t.”

Jamie grimaced. “Yeah. I know.”

“I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I won’t. Besides,” she reached out to nudge his elbow so that it slipped off the armrest of the couch. “I can always count on you to patch me up again.”

His answering smile was strained. “I can only do so much with lightsabre wounds.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Owen took a sip of his wine and hummed, the note echoing slightly around the glass bowl. “I defer to Hannah in matters of balance in the Force,” he said, “but I’m not sure I can do anything for your friend without more information. And even then — I’m saying this might be a lost cause, Jamie.”

Jamie gripped the stem of her wineglass and rolled her head back to sigh at the ceiling. “If I had two credits for every time someone told me that, I’d have twelve credits.”

“You could buy yourself a decent stimpack with that,” he said with a snap of his fingers.

She let her head loll forward again and leaned her cheek upon her fist. “I know what you’re going to say.”

Owen smiled sadly at her and then he said it anyway, “You need to prepare yourself for the worst.”

“I don’t want to hear it, mate.”

He leaned forward, setting aside his wineglass on a side table, and said in a soft yet serious tone, “You cannot let your judgement be clouded by personal attachments.”

She laughed, a short bitter huff of laughter. “That’s rich, coming from you.” With a gesture around the room, she said, “Awfully cosy here in Hannah’s place, innit? Was that your spare cloak and set of boots in the closet I saw?”

If Owen was put off his stride in any way, he did not show it, nor did he falter. “As a member of The Order, it is your duty to help everyone you can. And in that regard, you have always been the best of us.”

Jaw tight, Jamie glared into the firepit, a flicker of flame sending up sparks. “I’m not a Jedi.”

“No,” he murmured, his gaze dark and warm and unyielding. “But you act like one. If strength and power were what made a Jedi, then we would all be Sith. You are not defined by how much of the Force you can control. It’s what you do that matters.”

Jamie eyes burned from staring at the fire for too long. She cleared her throat, lifted her wineglass and drained its contents.

“Thanks for the drink and for the food,” she said, setting the wineglass aside and pushing herself to her feet. “And for the shit pep talk.”

Owen did not stand or attempt to bring her back when Jamie turned and walked down the same hallway Dani had vanished down about an hour ago. He let her go with a soft, “Good night,” that Jamie caught just on the edges of her hearing, and which made her fists clench.

At the end of the hall, Hannah had given them each their own rooms across from one another. Jamie stopped in front of Dani’s door. There was a soft light shining beneath the gap at the base, indicating that either Dani was still awake, or she was too afraid to sleep alone with the lights off. Jamie lifted her hand to knock, but stopped before she could touch the door. Instead she ran her hand down her face and rubbed at her eyes. Then with a shake of her head, she turned around and went into her own room.

It was the first night in nearly two weeks that Jamie slept alone. She tossed and turned, looking back towards her own shut door, seeing the echo of that pale sliver of light across the hall. Telling herself she was being ridiculous, she shut her eyes and struggled in search of sleep.

—

“I did a bit more research last night,” said Hannah as a greeting over breakfast.

“Oh, aye?” Jamie mumbled to the contents of her teacup.

Late morning sunlight washed through the tall windows of Hannah’s apartment, and Jamie was combating a pervasive grogginess with her third cup of the morning. Sleep last night had been a futile effort. Sitting across the table from her, Dani looked no better off; her eyes were circled with dark rings and her hair lacked its usual polished care. She had already been out in the kitchen for some time when Jamie had finally emerged from her room to find Dani helping Owen prepare breakfast and set the table. Both she and Owen had greeted Jamie with varying degrees of enthusiasm — Dani with a small private grin, Owen with a boisterous call of ‘Good Morning!’ that could’ve woken the dead.

Now they were all seated at the dining table. Owen had prepared a spread of food that would have given the ship’s computer a run for its millions of credits. He and Dani had tucked in, while Jamie and Hannah nursed their cups of tea in lieu of food.

“That inscription,” said Hannah. “I sleep. I wake. I walk. IT was specific enough to give me a small lead.”

Jamie lowered her cup, while across the table from her Dani did the same with her knife and fork, suddenly alert.

“So, what did the holocron have in it?” Jamie asked.

“Not what. Who.” Hannah pointed around her cup towards Dani, who had gone stock-still. “The echo of a soul. An ancient Sith Lord, whose sunken tomb is said to lie beneath the waters of a planet lost to time after the Hundred-Year Darkness. I could find nothing more than this, and at first I thought it a mere legend. Here. These images were taken from The Valley of the Dark Lords on Korriban.”

Hannah tapped at a link on her wrist, bringing up a holographic display which she set to the middle of the table so the rest of them could see. A collage of pictures from various sources. Old texts written on parchment or carved into stone. Weathered statues emerging from bodies of water in dark caves, and vast frescos painted upon plastered walls depicting a woman. All of them somehow defaced. Sections of writing blotted or chiselled away. The heads of every statue, every painting smashed or blighted as though taken to by a hammer.

“Spooky,” Owen muttered.

“What’s wrong with her face?” asked Jamie.

“It seems even other Sith feared her. Or envied her. Or hated her. Who knows? But her very name and image have been desecrated beyond repair, condemned to damnatio memoriae,” Hannah highlighted a section of writing that had been left unscarred. “They call her only: The Lady.”

Jamie stared at one of the statues, and even though it lacked all discernible features she could not shake herself of the horrible feeling that it was watching her back. “A Sith feared by other Sith? Well, that’s not terrifying at all.”

“All Sith eventually turn on each other in the end,” Owen scoffed. “This was probably just the work of some ambitious apprentice. You know how they are.”

“That’s very possible,” agreed Hannah.

“So instead of knowledge,” Jamie said slowly, “the holocron was holding a piece of her soul? Why?”

“A piece? No.” Hannah shook her head. “More like a shadow. A reflection of what once was whole. And for what purpose, I cannot say. Did she even make it herself? Or was it made of her unwillingly? Perhaps to preserve her own life. Or even to trap her, to interrogate her. All of these are plausible.”

Owen hummed a contemplative note, nodding to himself, then he abruptly said, “More tea?”

Hannah held out her cup. “Please. Thank you, dear.”

Meanwhile, Dani had spoken not a word. Her gaze was glued to one of the holo images, the one of a fresco depicting The Lady, faceless, with her hands on the shoulders of a young child with gold-graven eyes.

Jamie nudged her foot under the table, and Dani started, blinking at her.

“Sorry,” Dani breathed.

“S’alright,” Jamie said. She nodded towards the holo images. “This sound familiar at all?”

Dani licked her lips and then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s her.” Hands clenched and trembling around her cutlery, she said, “I’m sorry, but can you please turn that off?”

Without question, Hannah killed the feed, and Dani breathed a sigh of relief. Owen topped up Dani’s teacup as well, and she smiled gratefully at him. He winked and set down the teapot.

“As fascinating as Sith history is,” said Owen dryly. “What does it have to do with Alderaan? Why target children of House Thul?”

Hannah looked to be deep in thought, sipping at her tea with a furrow to her brow, while Dani shrugged.

Meanwhile, Jamie groaned and rubbed at her eyes. "I don't know," she said, "but I know someone who does. Do you have a transceiver?"

“Oh! Yeah. Give me a tick.” Owen pushed back his chair and went off in search of a transceiver. He returned a moment later holding a blade-thin screen, tapping at it to pull up the right application before he handed it to Jamie and sat back down in his seat. “Here.”

“Cheers.” Jamie took the screen and typed in the relevant frequency and hit a green button.

It rang. And rang. And just as Jamie was about to kill the feed, the screen flickered and a familiar face appeared.

Rebecca smiled. "Well, that was fast. Miss me already?"

#thobm #the haunting of bly manor #star wars #roman writes #no great revelation #damie #dani clayton/jamie

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saydams · 3 years

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So i was talking to a friend the other day and we were talking about how nice it was going to be when we could get together again soon, after our vaccines. She wanted to have me over for dinner, and we were sort of aspirationally planning our future visit. She wanted to plan a menu, and was asking me what i wanted for dinner.

I said, "oh, i'll eat anything, no worries." Because i always say that. And it's true, i will.

And she said, "oh yeah, i forgot--you like everything. That's so weird, you know."

And normally i reply to that with, "no prob, i'm not picky" or something. But for some reason this time i happened to say "honestly it's not that i like everything, it's just easier to eat whatever."

And she was like, "wait, what??"

And then i had to explain (and i'd never really thought about it before) that i really don't like most foods but i hate making decisions or inconveniencing people and so i learned it's a lot less stressful to just eat whatever is put in front of me and ignore whether i am enjoying it or not, and once i'd learned how to do that, why not do that all the time, it's easier.

And it had never occurred to me that this would be odd. But i guess it is. And so she was so appalled, and said "but why would you eat things you don't like", and i was trying to explain that you have to eat no matter what, and i don't really like anything, and why not reduce stress where you can. And she couldn't figure out how eating could be stressful and so i had to list some food related stresses of the top of my head for her.

1. Decide what to eat

2. Make it

3. Clean up

4. Eat it (this is painful because i have bad teeth, and it takes time, and it's boring)

5. Clean up

6. Then i usually feel sick, no matter what it was

So why would i add more stressors:

Do i like the taste, the texture, what if we're out with a group and i pick a restaurant no one likes, etc. Easier to ignore what you are eating and just eat it.

It's so funny, the more i talk to people the more i find that other people don't do ANY of the things i do. It's always things that i never thought to question.

Anyway, she's still upset that i've been eating stuff i dislike without telling her for the past decade or so.

I dunno. It's interesting what sorts of things we are used to.

There is no point to this story.

#Tw eating #tw ed behavior #Autism #actually autistic

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brideofcthulhu10 · 4 years

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Behold another Lost Boys holiday special! It was between this and Valentine’s day, but honestly I love writing Christmas specials, its such a cozy time despite the high suicide rates, but lets not get into that. A BIG SHOUT OUT TO @imlostinsantacarla FOR HELPING ME EDIT MY FINAL DRAFT!

Fun Fact! My husband, David (yes, that is actually his name) actually does have the bah humbug hat I mention in the head canons. He’s a heavy metal goth so when I found it at the store I had to get it for him. And you just know if our David found that, he wouldn’t be able to resist it!

Christmas with the Boys

Alright, so the whole touchy, feely and mushy feelings that surround even the topic of Christmas time is not something any of the boys will ever openly admit to enjoying. After all, they see themselves as these bad ass brutal killers who thrive off of death instead of holding hands and caroling with the goodie goodies of this coastal town.

Yet, it's challenging for them not to get sucked into the glitz and glam of the holiday season. Everything is a big deal in Santa Carla. Dia De Los Muertos, Halloween, Thanksgiving- everything! But especially Christmas.

Christmas in Santa Carla dwarfs the frenzy craze of Halloween. The entirety of the boardwalk is decked out with red and green lights that are tightly wound around palm trees, red bulbous bows are wrapped tightly around street lamps, the reds and whites of velvety fabric swirl down the posts, creating the effect of candy canes. All the store windows are painted to appear frosted, or covered with painted snowmen whilst several rooftops are covered with white felt in which mimics the texture and sight of snow. Even the boats in the harbour are all extravagantly decorated in a sea of lights that parade around brightly at night in every color imaginable.

Between the dates of the 30th of November all the way to the 24th of December the city of Santa Carla hosts a plethora of wondrous events in it's annual Holiday Festival. Large green, white and red kiosks are erected, selling a wide range of baubles and treats, from delectable chocolate coated rice krispy Santa Clauses, elf candy apples caked in a plethora of dark chocolate and peppermint, to a variety of Holiday hats, masks and even hand made costumes by the many local artists. Even hand carved candles in wondrous scents of pine, mint, or spice.

Currently, David possesses a black fur Santa hat which he acquired on a night out that boasts the words "Bah Humbug" proudly sewn over the front. It's the only holiday attire he'll even humor. Last time Marko attempted to place reindeer antlers on his head, David had set them on fire roasting atop a pan of chestnuts. Now it's not to say that he's a grinch persay. Rather, the complex and intense emotions that come hand in hand with Christmas can leave him perpetually indifferent at best, disdainful at worst. The whole occasion leaves him displeased. After all, he was an orphan who had been almost eagerly abandoned by his hooker mother left to fend for himself from the beginning, and of course never met his father. Even she could not identify which of her many clients may have been responsible. Most of his mortal life he had lived as a street rat, barely making ends meet by picking the pockets of tourists and Santa Carla citizens oblivious to the true dangers of the lower side of town. The rich and uppity classes who often snubbed their entitled noses his way would never suspect as he lurks between alleyways, leaving them cornered at knife point. It was scarce that he ever did see a kind face in the sea of those who had little interest for anyone that was not themselves. Back then it was rather uncommon for anyone to step outside their own little lives, which led to most interactions, outside of the other boys, having been met with great hostility, thus he had learned to be just as equally hostile in turn. Even the mere thought of anyone suddenly dawning a false kindness due to a certain time of year simply agitated David. It rattled him to the very core in a way very few other things did. Why bother with the lies? Couldn't people just face the very basic fact that they weren't nearly as charitable as they often deemed themselves to be? I mean, the young man had seen firsthand a family having previously snubbed a dirty homeless man with appalled disdain at the sight of his muddied clothes and dirt stained skin, only to then begin volunteering at a soup kitchen to purge whatever guilt they carried on their conscience once the holiday season began. The whole ordeal was pitiful! Nevertheless, - more so for Paul and Marko's sakes than his own -, he did humor these traditions amongst the holiday's festivities. Ruining a good time just wasn't his style. Unless they started fucking singing.

Most traditions David could tolerate, some he even enjoyed slightly; although he would never be caught dead admitting something as embarrassing as that! However, he just couldn't stand Christmas carols! They were the bain to his immortal existence. The repetitive nature of these overly cheery jingles left him covering his ears lest they nest in his brain leaving him humming the same damn melody for weeks. This was the case because the dynamic duo of dumbasses were well aware of his hatred for Rudolph the Red Nosed fuckin' roadkill! Stupid red nosed abomination.

“OOOOOOH-,” Paul begins with cheerful mischief.

“Don’t. You. Fucking. Dare.” David seethes through tightly clenched teeth, eyes screwed shut in indignance.

Paul hesitates. He looks at Marko. Marko looks at Paul. Wicked grins of agreement spread wide like wildfire across their faces as their master plan comes into play. Full throttle. What’s more fun than annoying the shit out of David? One on the left, the other on the opposite side of the cave on the right. This was nothing but Divine perfection if you asked the two troublesome vampires.

“OOOOOH DASHING THROUGH THE SNOW!” Paul belted out at full volume.

“IN A ONE HORSE OPEN SLEIGH!” Marko followed in suit, the widest eerie grin plastered on his face.

“OVER THE HILLS WE GOOOO” Paul howled enthusiastically.

“I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU BOTH!” David's voice hit a whole new octave it had never in all his life so far. All the while Dwayne had opted to vacate the room lest he be caught in the middle of the escalating madness with Laddie in tow. He loved these guys, but not enough to dive head first into their fuckery.

Paul thrives during the Christmas holidays! How could he not? The food, the punk rock covers of Christmas songs, the absolute babes prancing around the town in Santa hats under mistletoe?! He loved it all! You can find him sneaking under mistletoe with many sweet honeys on a constant basis, regardless of whether or not he's acquainted with them. Most do roll their eyes or laugh it off, but every once in a blue moon the guy will get a little lovin' from a beach babe in the Yuletide mood. What else could he ask for? You can bet he’ll run into the woods December first, and quite literally RIP a pine tree out of the ground to bring home like a wee carrot being plucked from the ground. The bigger the better! He may even drag Dwayne or Marko along with him if it's too big for him to carry himself. And all the boozy drinks he can concoct up? This boy is in his element! Mulled wine, spiked eggnog, candy cane vodka, butterscotch bourbon hot chocolate?! Yes! David straight up refuses to try anything that Paul creates himself (remember the concoction he made in Max's kitchen? Those poor goldfish....) which is also another reason why he has Dwayne help him. Or rather, the other boys insist the most responsible of them monitors the blonde lest he poison them with some sickly brew. That, and the fact that Dwayne's the least likely out of all of them to blow up the damn kitchen!

Dwayne is indeed the designated cook during the holiday rush, albeit a field even he tends to struggle. Avoiding the kitchen catching aflame, perfecting his craft lest he blow up the stove, leaving only a pile of ash in its wake. As previously mentioned, ever since the dreadful chain of events that lead to the unfortunate destruction of Max's kitchen, this raven haired vampire has attempted his hand at learning to use a stove properly: Although he often finds himself forgetting ingredients either in the midst of cooking or after the final product is done and he's taken a big bite.

“Shit! I forgot the milk and eggs!” Dwayne grumbled with a mouthful of dry crumbs, a true disgrace of a cookie.

Paul always gives him crap for it of course.

“Oooh I just thought you were going for a sandy, dusty dry cookie kinda thing.”

"Yeah man, these taste like ass!" Marko would cough out in midst of choking.

"And what, like you dumbasses could do any better," Dwayne retorts with a huff. Only Star manages to have any manners when testing his failed baking endeavors.

"Well I mean, the taste isn't that bad. Just a little dry is all."

"At least Marko wouldn't be choking to death." David would mutter from the darkest corner of the room, a little late in the conversation.

In all honesty, Dwayne's biggest motivation when it came to improving his skills was obviously Laddie. The kid never got much of a Christmas whilst living with his mom, so now that he was with the boys, he wanted to ensure that Christmas's were something that Laddie would remember for all eternity. Though granted, it is quite the mess when he was helping in the kitchen. But when the mini vamp grins from ear to ear whilst coated in flour and rapidly stirring an overflowing bowl of chunky cookie dough--the sight is too freaking cute!

Since Laddie joined the boys, they participate in Secret Santa every single year, which definitely includes Paul bursting through the entrance of the hotel as Santa on Christmas day. We won't talk about the fact that each year he almost falls flat on his face and swears, ruining the surprise for the kid.

"Santa where are your reindeer," he'd question, to which Santa Paul scoffs

"Pff, reindeer, I don't need any fucki- Ow," cut off by a firm and covert kick to the shin from Star, Paul quickly changes his response. "Oh! Ho ho, well, you see little boy, Santa can fly too! On his, uh, uhm… magic motorcycle! Yeah, that!"

But it's okay because Laddie already KNEW (he figured it out a year or two ago after Paul's beard fell off not once, but three times), he just doesn't have the heart to tell any of them because, well Paul really gets into it. And he knows the others are playing along for his sake. But to be fair, Laddie would have to be pretty dumb to believe it was Santa. I mean, the beard Paul's wearing is hanging half off his face by this point! But anyway, just like Paul's style, the entirety of the goody two shoes schpiel is thrown out the window, replaced with sleeves that have been ripped off, muddy boots, spiked bracelets and his Metallica shirt in full view beneath his flared red coat. He calls this BIKER CLAUS!

Laddie is not a squasher of traditions! But there was the one time that David had to intervene when Paul and Dwayne thought it would be great to use Laddie as the star at the top of the tree. David practically had a heart attack. Well, that's impossible but it still felt like he was having one!

“Ho ho ho! Now, don’t be a bitch, little David or Santa will have to give you coal.” Paul stated mockingly to David, brows furrowed.

“Well, Santa,” David scolds, a wry smile developing on his face when setting down the eight year old now off to shake his presents beneath their behemoth of a tree. “You best be careful. You never know what's in those milk and cookies, hm?”

Each year Marko buys bird toys for the pigeons in the hotel. Well, buy is probably the wrong word. More like he liberates the stores of their stock. And then for the next six months, David has to hear the agonizing jingle of bells. David almost roasted one pigeon in particular that kept flying over him to drop the ball with a bell in it on his head. That was Paul's entertainment for the next five hours, hell, he'd try to find it if the bird lost it and give it back. Marko defends the pigeon. Between running through stores buying up surprises for his friends, he's helping Paul throw out decorations for the cave. The dollar store has some surprisingly unexpected treasures, allowing him to deck the fucking halls to the max. Tinsel here, ornaments there, tiny light up trees to hide around the caves, a butt ton of cinnamon pine cones which he ends up throwing back and forth with Paul.

And Paul often steals his gifts or goes dumpster diving for any hidden gems. He forgets to take the tags off of them the majority of the time, which is always an indicator whether or not its new. Any time Star asks where he got them from he refuses to answer. Just gets up and walks away. But for David's gift? Well this lucky bastard has found coal in the dumpster and chucks it to David when he's not looking and he sighs deeply in disappointment because this is the third year Paul has done this.

"Huh? What? Who did that? Wasn't me. Somebody's throwing stuff."

Other than that he'll find a fat bag of charcoal and just tape the name David on it. David is certainly not amused. Dwayne will actually try to figure out what the others want, and has the sense to save the money taken from their previous meals. After all, they're dead, they wouldn't have much use for it anyway. He's not about to waste his hypnosis on some poor cashier. That would be a waste of time in his eyes.

When Christmas did arrive the tree was piled with mysterious boxes crudely mashed and taped together with bows and ribbons underneath it. It's obvious which ones are from Star since those gifts are wrapped in neatly pressed paper, wound tight beneath curled ribbons that remind the boys of her hair. Marko often goes on a food run rather than allow them all to be subjected to a potentially charred turkey, no offense to Dwayne of course. So, with a table covered from end to end with copious bowls of gravy, potatoes, candied sweet potatoes, a beast of a turkey in the center packed to the brim with cornbread stuffing, the boys cram into their chairs knocking back beers and spiked cider. Keeping to their own traditions, after fattening up, they gather around the tree and play card games, just as they had over eighty years ago on that frigid night. David still slays them in poker, and Marko is an utter dark horse when it comes to blackjack. Paul insists they try Go Fish. No one ever wants to play Go Fish. Closer towards the end of the night Dwayne will slip away to Jasper's shrine and bring him a fresh glass of rum as well as unwrapping what he got him that year. While Dwayne is there, the other boys will join him - omitting Star and Laddie left unaware of the Lost Boy they'd never met - in celebrating the last hour or so of the Holiday season with their fallen comrade.

Although Christmas time is often about uncomfortable mushy moments and emotions that create deep, unfamiliar times for David. The entire ordeal becomes that for everyone of the boys and Star. But God forbid anyone who even mentions it! I mean, it's kinda obvious though considering he's spending it with the people he always called family, knee deep in traditions that are sentimental to himself and the boys. There's a fluster of emotions running rampant during this particular Holiday Season, and although the blonde brooding vampire decides to squint at it with skepticism he savors these moments, knowing like Jasper, it could all be swept away with a single ray of light or the foolish hand of a hunter. So as they sit, drunk, full, and laughing beside Jasper's grave he can't help but smile at the sentimentality of it all. Christmas is a pain in the ass, but… it's a pain he'll gladly sit through for his brothers.

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blue-pens-and-cold-coffee · 4 years

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TW: TALK OF DRUGS AND HALLUCINATIONS

I may have taken laced weed because of my dumb life choices

...

I need to write this all down before I forget. I don’t exactly need to, but it would be nice to have a solid record of my poor life choices. I stole my mom's edibles. Nice smelling chocolate squares in a plain white carton. Innocent enough. Her best friend gave them to her over dinner as a birthday gift. When I asked her about it later, she said she hadn't even touched them.

I rifled through her underwear drawer with shaking hands until I found the clear Tupperware container where she stores her weed. I didn’t do this thing often. The whole rebellious thing I mean. So when I do, I’m always panicky. Looking over my shoulder every five seconds, any and every creak made me jump out of my skin. Once I grabbed the carton, I shoved it up my sleeve, grabbed some q-tips from her bathroom in case if anybody saw me coming out I had an alibi. I hid away in my room for the upteenth time that week. I once got in trouble for stealing her weed a few years ago, but that time I didn’t actually do it. My grandfather took me up in his room to show me something cool, and it was the joint my mom had been saving for over a year. Next thing you know I’m being blamed for smoking it. Pissed was an understatement. Of course though, my mother was worried about all the wrong things. She was more mad about her weed being stolen then her fourteen year old allegedly smoking weed. Off topic.

I know I shouldn’t have taken her chocolates. But this was quarantine, and I was losing my mind. Days and nights were blurring together and I couldn’t take the noise in my head anymore. I wanted to shut everything up. I heard from my friends that that’s exactly what weed does. Blocked out the unwanted thoughts. I needed that.

Back in my room, I took a look inside the box. Only two squares were left. Liar. I decided that night time was the best course of action, I laid in bed and played Animal Crossing until the anticipation got the best of me. I was never a patient person. I could never wait for my mother and brother to go to bed. I needed it right then. I waited an hour tops before popping one into my mouth. It was the most disgusting, disappointing thing I’ve ever tasted. The tartness made my jaw hurt and my eyes water. I felt chunks of the flower across my tongue and between my teeth. The urge to gag was overbearing. Why did people do this? The thick burn of vodka was better than that. As I went downstairs to wash my mouth out, I texted Katie about it. She told me I was lucky and to save one for her. I disagreed and told her about the taste. She didn’t seem to mind.

I sat down on my bed and grabbed my switch to play animal crossing.

I didn’t feel anything for the first half hour, so I decided to try the last square, but this time I was prepared for the taste. Or not. Even with my nose plugged it was even worse the second time around. I was sure I was going to vomit. The slightly contaminated paint water went down the hatch. Anything to get the wretched taste out of my mouth. It swished around in my mouth until the chunks of herb dislodged from my molars.

It occurred to me that I should check how much I actually took. 135 grams in an edible. I’m 5”2. What a ride it was.

I toyed the idea of showering for a bit, but decided against it when the heaviness of my eyelids proved itself to be too much and I succumbed to the thought of sleep. I put down my switch and turned around to get comfortable. That’s when it started. It took a second for my brain to process the fact that I’ve turned my head. Senses lagged like an old video game. It was a but nauseating, but exciting. After an hour and a half, I was finally feeling something. I don’t remember being upright, but there I was, sitting against my headboard….. and then I itched my head. Everything hit me like a freight train. The scratches felt amazing. My scalp was hypersensitive to the feeling of my fingernails dragging themselves along my skin. Every micromovement felt electric. I took my hands away for a moment to look at my hands. They were so fuzzy it was like they weren’t there at all. Mist almost. But they were so lovely. And I was so lonely. They could be my friends right? I stared at my liquid fingers with a grin so wide my lips cracked and bled at the corners. Moving my head back and forth like a viper, I sighed. This was what I was meant to feel all along. My eyes were still heavy and my mouth hung open in awe. The idea of napping was long gone. I was wide awake. My hands found their way back to my head and my sole focus was scratching until I was raw. . . Trying to dig out the happiness. The feeling was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Colors danced across my vision and I didn’t want it to fade away. I couldn’t let it fade away. I dug at my scalp until the happiness oozed out and I went cross eyed. I started laughing. Giggling even. Rocking side to side like A dumbass. Somewhere along the way I ended up completely folded in on myself; limp in the middle of my bed.

This is just the placebo effect, I told myself. It has to be. There’s no possible way I can be high. I’m just imagining things. I don’t remember standing, but there I was, dancing on my bed(and I never dance). I was clumsy, tripping over myself, but I didn’t care. My arms flailed around as my feet moved toward the edge of my bed. Then, I was in front of a mirror. My eyes were red and puffy, like they were trying their hardest to push themselves out of the socket. It never registered that my eyes hurt until that moment. I looked horrible. Ugly...Hideous... So pretty... I’m so desirable... I’m disgusting… My thoughts came in slow, but piled on top of each other. I would think one thing, stop mid thought, have another idea, stop, and pick up where I left off with the previous one. The cycle repeated itself over and over and over. It drove me fucking insane. My one coherent thought was how annoying it was. Then the thought disappeared for a while. Then came back. Gone again.

A shower felt like a good idea then. I gathered my phone, a t-shirt and some underwear before stumbling my way into the bathroom with minimal bruising. I wasn’t used to feeling this way. Addiction runs deep on both sides of my family, so when I had six shots of vodka in one sitting I didn’t feel a thing except rosy cheeks. A placebo. That’s all this is. I usually don’t feel anything, so I’m not feeling anything now.

I placed my clothes on the toilet and put on a Shower Playlist. I stood there with only my bottoms on, staring at nothing for who knows how long before finally turning on the shower. I roll up my sleeve and turn the knob towards me. The pushing sensation of my eyes came back full force. I have my phone in hand, but for some reason I couldn’t for the life of me remember what I was doing on it, so I stood there once again for an unknown amount of time.

I looked at the wall beside me, and I was appalled. The ceiling was so high. I was so close to the ground. I was so small. What the fuck what the fuck. My breathing began to accelerate until I was light headed. I couldn’t deal with it. My thoughts passed a mile a minute but I couldn’t make sense of them. That made me panic even more..

My eyes darted to the ceiling, back to the floor. All of a sudden my bathroom was two sizes too small. This couldn’t be happening. Why is this happening. Fuck fuck fuck I made such a huge mistake. I gripped both sides of my head harder than I should’ve and began to hyperventilate. Placebo. It’s a placebo. This can be happening. I looked up. Looked down. Looked up. I was so small. The was so tall.

Alice in wonderland, I thought to myself, and that’s exactly what it felt like. I focus on the shower curtain but it’s so close to me that I could see the texture of the fabric. That must be it. It’s a new curtain. I turn my head to the opposite wall and I’m being closed in. The walls were an inch away from touching me. Are we so poor that we can’t afford a bigger bathroom? I don’t remember it being this small. I breathed so hard I felt the bottom of my ribs touch my spine. Next thing I know, I’m in the shower still gripping my head. Pathetically.. brokenly whispering aloud, “it’s not a placebo” over and over between ragged breaths as all the air I even had was thrusted out of my lungs and into the steam.

I snapped out of it. Suddenly I’m fine. It was all a placebo. Sitting down in the shower, folded in half, I thought how easy it was to give myself a panic attack while high. I thought the idea was funny so I replicated my breaths from before. Heavy inhale. Harsh exhale; and then I’m dying, trying to push my eyes back into their sockets with my kneecaps. Hands on my head once again. I’m breathing in all of the steam. Felt it in the back of my throat and in my nose. In my lungs. I thought that was how I was gonna die. All the steam was gonna build up in my lungs and I would drown. The steam was gonna get me and strangle me in my sleep. It hurt but I didn’t move. Just gripped my scalp and cried.

My thought patterns scared me. I couldn’t think more than one thing at once. My thoughts cut out and got replaced by another before continuing where I left off. Washing my hair, I rested my head against the tub and and tried to replicate that special feeling by scratching my scalp for a bit. It worked, but not in the same way. Wasn’t as intense. I was so foggy. I was so dizzy. I couldn’t focus on anything. Not even the wall in front of me. Nothing was solid.

I was back in bed and I was blown away by the most amazing feeling in the world. I laid on my back with my arm thrown over my eyes and I soaked everything in. I saw the electricity radiating off of my body in waves. It was green and shot up from my body in small squiggles about an inch high before dissipating. Cycle repeats. I felt so many things.

My eyes hurt just then. They burned so bad. The arm thrown over my eyes was wet from my blinking eyes. Bare skin was on my eyes. I’m a fucking dumbass.

A sick shudder goes up my spine and I wondered if high me was more creative than sober me. I wanted to paint something, but the bed was so comforting; I decided to do the next best thing: experiment with my creativity. I imagined a wet, sloppy tongue slipping its way into my ear canal. I could hear the disgusting sounds and my stomach churned. I could feel the way it wriggled inside of me. Long and horrible and deep. Then there were two, then three. They kept shoving their way in until the final number was six. My ear was too full but they just kept pushing their way in until my head split open. They went from my ear canal to my throat. Fucked it raw. Like long tentacles they came out of my mouth and nose up into my eyes and holy fuck I need to stop being so fucked up.

My breathing was ragged again. My ribs touched my spine again. That area glowed red with every inhale. In my head, I saw my body in x-ray vision. I turned on my side and a new feeling arose just as amazing as the first. There were pink and purple waves this time. They fell over me like a blessing from Aphrodite herself. Rolled over slightly more. Green and blue. My body lights up like a neon sign. Then I also thought sober me would think I was being ridiculous right now. Sober me? I am sober. This is just a placebo. I'm not really paying attention anymore. I keep zoning out but I love it.

It was when I finally decided to fall asleep that I felt sick to my stomach. I rolled back and forth for hours with intense pain. I was nauseous and swore I was going to vomit the chocolates back up. I haven’t thrown up in seven years, but thought I might break that personal record. It went on for hours. I have multiple medical issues and I’ve never been that sick before. I don’t know what was wrong with me. All the nice feelings disappeared and I was left with nothing but suffering. After what felt like an eternity I fell asleep only to wake up with a throat dryer than the Sahara desert. I felt I was gonna die from it. I would shrivel up like a dried grape and turn to dust. My thoughts only got more rapid and disturbing. I cried into my pillowcase at my own twisted fantasies. I still don’t know if I was hallucinating or if the drugs were enhancing my twisted creativity.

The first thing I noticed when I was finally sober was that my head was unbelievably quiet.

...

I think I understand addicts now. What terrifies me is even though my trip was awful, I would do it all over again just for those five minutes of glee. I’m ashamed of myself for thinking that way, but it’s true. If I could get my hands on it again I take it without hesitation. I just hope I don’t seek it out. Please don’t let me get to a point where I seek it out.

#tw drugs #poem #spilled writing #exerpt from my diary #teenage diary #diary entry #trauma writing #vent writing #my writing #free write #wtf #im sorry #writing #spilled ink #spilled emotions

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halevetica · 5 years

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Rome(Ineffable Husbands)

(Just a little heads up, I was commissioned on my kofi to write this while intoxicated. So I'm a couple drinks in and hoping this came out not terrible, also sorry for spelling errors.😂)

Crowley had ordered the most drinkable thing he could think of and yet it still tasted like sewer water, don't ask how he knew what that tasted like, that is a story for another time.

He was already in a particularly bad mood, having failed at his tempting of Caligula, the current Roman empire. He'd dressed up for the occasion and everything only to have failed. He would be getting a nasty gram from downstairs for this one. Hastur would likely deliver it himself. He liked to make Crowley's life miserable any chance he got.

"Crawly- er Crowley?" A voice asked from his right just then. "Fancy, running into you here."

It was Aziraphale.

Crowley took a large gulp of his drink.

"Still a demon then?" The angel asked.

"What kind of stupid question is that? Still a de-what else am I gonna be? An aardvark?" Crowley snapped. He really wasn't in the mood, especially to be talking to Aziraphale. The angel he'd been running into for the last four millennia had become something of a highlight in his life. Usually he was the one to approach the angel, however. He didn't like being unprepared.

"Salutatorian," Aziraphale smiled holding up his own cup of sewer water.

Crowley, unable to deny the overly enthusiastic angel, held his up as well.

"In Rome long?" The angel asked.

"Just nipped in for a quick temptation," Crowley answered, looking forward. He really wasn't in the mood to do this right now but he had such a hard time being rude to the angel. "You?"

"I thought I'd try Patronus' new restaurant. I hear he does remarkable things to Oysters."

Of course Aziraphale would be there to try a restaurant. He did like his food.

"I've never eaten an oyster," Crowley said thoughtfully, taking another sip of his drink.

"Oh." The angel look appalled. "Oh, well let me tempt you to-" He cut himself off abruptly.

This caught Crowley's attention.

"Oh, no that's- that's your job isn't it?" The angel stuttered nervously.

This brought the slightest smile to Crowley's lips earning a shy smile in return.

"Maybe I will let you tempt me," He set his now empty cup down.

Aziraphale lit up before frowning. "Perhaps instead of tempting you I can just...invite you...to join me."

Crowley couldn't help but snicker. Any reprimand he got from hell would be worth spending time with Aziraphale.

Patronus did do remarkable things to Oysters. Though the texture still threw Crowley off a bit he enjoyed them. Though he enjoyed his company more. Aziraphale had somehow wiggled his way into Crowley's heart. Who knew demon's even had a heart to be wiggled into.

"Where are you off to next?" Aziraphale asked, setting his cup down and leaning back in his seat.

"Wherever the wind takes me I suppose," Crowley shrugged. Truth was he wouldn't know until he got orders from headquarters. For now he would just go where he wanted.

"I'm going to be staying here for a bit, perhaps you might join me. I'm guessing there are several opportunities for temptations here," Aziraphale didn't look up from where his hands were clasped in his lap.

Crowley raised a curious brow. Was the angel wanting him to stay?

"Perhaps I might show you around a bit, since you've only just popped in. There's much to be seen," Aziraphale continued when Crowley didn't respond.

"Well seeing as how my temptation failed I don't see why I can't find someone to tempt in their place," Crowley would never admit that he was only agreeing because Aziraphale had asked him.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Aziraphale looked up with a sympathetic frown. "Or well... I suppose I shouldn't be..." he frowned then.

"Eh, it happens, that just means I'll have my side on my ass."

"If it helps you could blame me. Perhaps they'll be more forgiving?" Aziraphale offered gently.

"Forgiving isn't really our thing," Crowley screwed his face up into a sneer, "But that might give me enough of an alibi they'll write it off."

Aziraphale gave a wide smile, "Very well, then you were thwarted by a ghastly angel."

Crowley smirked again. This was the reason Crowley had grown to truly care for Aziraphale. No one would offer to be the bad guy so that a demon wouldn't get into so much trouble. He supposed that was what made Aziraphale such a great angel.

*AN*

For some reason I kept spelling sewer srwere...like no matter how many times I tried I could not type it properly. It's a miracle I managed(thanks Zira)

Consider buying me a coffee, I would really appreciate it!

#Good omens #go #Ineffable Husbands #crowley x aziraphale #drunken writing #one shot #ficlet #my writing-H

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kaychawrites · 5 years

Text

The Right Partner

My Hero Academia Fanfiction

Charcters: Katsuki Bakugou x Kia Hales (OC)

Rating: Mature

Tagging: @cobblepottantrum @rageyoudamnednerd @frenlysnek666

Ch 27: Phoenix

Kia’s heart was racing as she closed the door to her apartment. It seemed she was going to wake up with her heart pounding in one way or another. She could still feel Bakugou’s body heat on her skin and she was covered in his scent. “Geeze, what the hell was I thinking falling asleep at his house?” Kia said to herself. It could have turned out bad if she had a nightmare while sleeping next to him.

Wait, I didn’t have a nightmare, Kia thought suddenly. In fact, she felt like she had slept really well and couldn’t remember having a dream at all. That freaked her out even more. She hadn’t been that comfortable around someone as long as she could remember. She never even let her guard down that much around Phoenix. Walking to the bathroom, she turned on the shower so she could get ready for the day. Looking at her phone, she saw that it was 7:00 in the morning. That gave her plenty of time to get ready and get to work. Undressing, she stepped into the spray, washing away Bakugou’s lingering scent and willing her heart rate to slow to normal.

%%%%%

Bakugou got ready for work and left without Kia. He figured she would talk to him while they filled out paperwork that morning. She had left so abruptly, and he wasn’t sure what to do with the awkward feeling between them.

When he made it to their office, he opened the door to find it empty. The computers weren’t on and there was no coffee on his desk so. He figured Kia hadn’t arrived yet. He sat down and got to work. After an hour Kia still hadn’t shown up. Bakugou pulled his phone out and sent her a message. He continued doing paperwork until another hour had past. Still no Kia, and she hadn’t replied to or looked at his message. Irritated, he opened his contacts and called Jeanist.

“Hello, Ground Zero. What can I do for you?” Jeanist answered.

“Have you seen Kia?” Bakugou asked.

“Yes, she came in early this morning around 7:30. I asked her to do a couple of things for me. She should be back around lunch time,” Jeanist answered. “Did she not tell you?”

“No!” Bakugou snapped.

“You didn’t do anything to make her mad,, did you?” Jeanist said accusingly.

“No!” Bakugou fumed.

“Well, all you can do is wait for her return,” Jeanist said.

Bakugou hung up and set his phone on his desk. He continued working until noon; still no Kia. Grabbing his phone, he sent her another message. I’m not doing all this damn paperwork myself, he typed. Getting up from his desk, he decided to eat at the agency today and made his way to the small mess hall on the second floor. Exiting the elevator, he turned and saw Kia standing outside the mess hall talking to Nina. Kia’s phone dinged and she looked at it, typing something before sticking it back in her pocket.

Bakugou’s phone vibrated and he took it out of his pocket to see a reply from Kia. Send them to me and I will finish them this afternoon,sShe had sent. Bakugou was pissed. She had been gone all morning and that was all she was going to tell him. He headed over to where she was standing and he saw her shoulders tense before he even took two steps.

“Sorry, Nina. I’ve got to go,” Kia apologized before walking towards the stair access doors. Bakugou went after her. Throwing the door open with a bang, he saw Kia had just made it down the first flight.

“Hold it right there, Sunshine!” he yelled, making his way down the steps. “Why the hell are you avoiding me?” Kia had stopped on the landing, waiting for him to catch up. Bakugou came down the last steps and reached for her arm but Kia pulled away. “What the hell is your problem?” he bellowed.

Kia didn’t turn around. “I’m sorry, I know it is stupid but I can’t talk to you right now,” Kia answered, not looking at him.

“Why? Because of what happened this morning?” he snapped. “Who the hell cares?”

“I just need time to get my head on straight,” Kia sighed looking up.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Quit being an idiot and let me know when you decide to go AWOL. You just ended up sleeping on the couch with me; it’s not a big deal,” he said, but he could feel his face heat up.

“Maybe it’s not a big deal for you, Bakugou, but it is for me!” Kia said spinning around to face him. He couldn’t quite place her expression. It was a mix of anger and something else. “I don’t expect you to understand, but I never drop my guard like that and it scares me. If I had a nightmare and lashed out at you in my sleep again…” She paused, clenching her fists. “I know it was an accident and it didn’t mean anything, but I have trouble with that kind of thing. So if I need a morning to get back to normal then just leave me the hell alone. I will get my work done before the day is over, I can promise you that. Just e-mail me the forms!” she snapped, turning back around and continuing down the stairs.

Bakugou watched as she exited the door at the bottom. What the hell does she mean she has trouble? he thought to himself. The whole conversation just pissed him off even more. He didn’t understand what the hell was bothering Kia so much that she didn’t even want to talk to him. Was she so appalled at sleeping on top of him that she couldn’t even look at him? Sulking Bakugou shoved his hands in his pockets. Deciding he wasn’t hungry, he headed back to their office. When he passed the door to the second floor he didn’t notice that is was open slightly and Nina was on the other side listening to their conversation.

%%%%%

Kia headed to drop off a bundle of reports at another agency for Jeanist. She felt bad for snapping at Bakugou like that. Waking up on top of him had scared the shit out of her. The image of his blushing face would not leave her mind and she didn’t like the feeling she got when she thought about it. He was her partner and she trusted him but the feelings she was having were dangerous. It reminded her of how Phoenix used to make her feel and he ended up getting killed. She swore she would never feel that way about someone ever again. She did realize how stupid she was acting but the whole thing seriously rattled her. Giving a deep sigh, she knew she should go back and explain things to Bakugou but she still wasn’t ready to tell him everything.

She continued to run errands for Jeanist until 4 o’clock in the afternoon. Leaving Jeanist’s office she made her way down to her and Bakugou’s but when she got there it was empty. Bakugou must have gone out on patrol, she thought to herself.

Turning on her computer, she opened her email to see Bakugou had done his half of the reports and all of them were ready for her to finish. “He really is a good hero,” she said out loud. She spent the next couple of hours completing all the reports and sending them off for review. When she was done it was dark outside and Bakugou hadn’t come back from patrol. Kia packed up her things and headed home, deciding to let Bakugou blow off some steam on his own.

When she got to the apartment building she paused outside Bakugou’s door and listened for any movement inside. Hearing nothing, she continued to her own apartment. Stepping inside, she took off her shoes and locked the door. Moving into the living room, she paused while looking at the pictures she had hung on the wall. “Maybe I should have brought Chloe,” she said to herself as she looked at a picture of her and a black and white border collie. After changing into a pair of sweats and a long sleeved shirt, she headed to the kitchen, deciding to make Bakugou something spicy as an apology. Sticking her earbuds in, she hit play on her favorite station and started to get lost in the music while she cooked.

%%%%%

Bakugou got back to the agency late and was disappointed to see the office was empty. Checking his email, he saw that Kia had gotten all the paperwork done and submitted, leaving nothing else for him to do for the night. Gathering his stuff together, he decided to go home. When he got to his apartment he took a shower then pulled on a pair of sweats and a shirt. Wondering if Kia was home he headed out to the balcony. Crossing over to hers, he was relieved when he found the light on and the door unlocked. Opening the sliding door, he stepped in to see Kia dancing around in her kitchen. Looking closer he could see she had her earbuds in. Leaning against the doorframe, he stopped and watched her dance as she cooked.

Kia reached into the cupboard and grabbed two plates. She whirled around to the music and set the plates on the counter next to the rice cooker. She loaded up the plates with rice before dancing back to the stove. Pulling a spoon out of a drawer, she dipped it into a pot on the stove, tasting the sauce she was making. She hummed at the creamy texture and spicy kick. Picking it off the stove, she set it on the counter and turned to grab the chicken she had cooked. Dropping the chunks of chicken on top of the rice, she poured the sauce over top then grabbed the steamed vegetables off the stove and spooned them onto the plates.

While Kia was plating the food, Bakugou quietly moved into the apartment and sat at the counter behind her. He couldn’t help but smile as she swung her hips to the beat of whatever song she was listening to. The food she was making smelled delicious and he smirked at the fact that she was fixing two plates.

Kia moved to the sink and was washing out the pot when her head jerked up and she spun around to see Bakugou sitting at her counter. (“Jesus Christ, B! You scared the hell out of me!”) she exclaimed in English, pulling her earbuds out.

“One of those better be for me,” he said pointing to the plates.

“You are lucky I didn’t claw your eyes out,” she said, turning around to grab the plates. Setting one down in front of Bakugou, she handed him a set of chopsticks before grabbing some herself.

Bakugou ignored her as he grabbed a chunk of chicken from his plate. He didn’t hesitate as he took a big bite and was delighted when a bunch of spice hit his taste buds.

“Do you like it?” Kia asked, picking one of the steamed vegetables off her plate and popping it in her mouth. Bakugou merely nodded as he took another bite. They sat in silence as they ate both, too preoccupied with their meal.

When they finished, Kia took the plates to the sink and started to wash them. Bakugou came around the counter, giving Kia a questioning look and she pointed to a drawer. Bakugou opened it to find hand towels inside and he started drying the dishes as she washed them. After putting the last dish away, he set the towel on the counter and leaned against it, looking at Kia expectantly.

“I’m sorry,” Kia sighed. “I know how I’ve been acting is stupid but you gotta realize it is hard for me.”

“What do you mean?” Bakugou asked, not moving.

“If I’m going to talk about this, I’m going to need a drink,” Kia said walking to the refrigerator. Opening the freezer, she pulled out the bottle she had received from her siblings in the care package. Setting it on the counter next to him, she opened a cupboard, and pulled out two glasses and poured a little of the amber liquid into both. Handing one to Bakugou, she retreated to the opposite counter, taking a sip before looking back up at him.

Bakugou swirled the liquid in his glass, giving it a curious sniff before taking a drink. The alcohol burned its way down his throat, warming his belly and leaving a strong cinnamon taste in his mouth. “What the hell is this?” he asked, looking at the sweet liquid again.

“Fireball whiskey,” Kia replied taking, another drink. “My family loves the stuff.”

“It really burns,” Bakugou said, taking another drink.

“Yeah you get used to that,” Kia chuckled.

“So are you going to tell me what you meant?” Bakugou asked straight out.

“They guy who bought me was a real piece of work,” Kia started, taking a drink. “He thought of the people he bought as animals and treated us as such. His favorites had it worse though. Not only would he torture us physically, but he liked to mess with our emotions and play with our mind,” she said, pausing. Bakugou said nothing as he waited for her to continue. “It was like he wanted to see how far he could push us before we broke.”

“Did he break you?” Bakugou asked.

Kia hesitated, looking up at him before draining her glass. “He did,” she replied, setting her glass down on the counter and pouring more whiskey in it. Reaching into her shirt, she pulled out the cord with a red feather on it and held it up for Bakugou to see. “Around two - maybe three- years after he bought me he introduced me to a boy that was about my age. He kept us together and the boy became my partner of sorts. He was the only person close to me that could understand what we were going through and he became important to me. We did everything together and even shared the same cage until we started getting older. I only knew him by the name Phoenix and as the years went on he became my rock in the storm and I was his,” Kia said while turning the feather over in her fingers.

“I didn’t realize it at the time but that was exactly what the master wanted. He put us together hoping we would form a bond. Then he could use that bond against us. One day I disobeyed the master’s orders,” Kia continued, getting a faraway look in her eyes. “Master wasn’t happy with me. He had a lot of plans for us, and Phoenix wasn’t showing as much promise as I was. Master decided that Phoenix was holding me back, so he brought us to a room and had the caretakers chain us down facing one another. Then he told me how it was all my fault right before he shoved a dagger into Phoenix’s heart. I don’t remember much after that,” Kia said, swallowing down the rest of her glass.

Bakugou stared at Kia. He couldn’t believe what she had been through and here he was calling her Sunshine, not realizing what she hid behind that bright smile. “Shit,” he said as he downed the rest of his glass. Kia grabbed the bottle, filling her glass before reaching over and pouring more into his.

“I’ve only told that story to three other people,” Kia said, taking another drink.

“So you don’t want anyone to get close to you?” Bakugou asked, not fully understanding what Kia was getting at.

“It isn’t that I can’t or don’t want to have real relationships with other people. I just always keep them at a distance. But you’re different; you are becoming someone who could be used against me and that scares the hell out of me,” Kia said. Finishing her glass, she set it in the sink and put the bottle back in the freezer. She then walked into the living room and plopped down on the couch, holding the feather up to the light.

Bakugou stood in the kitchen, still processing what Kia had said. Draining his own glass, he walked over to where she sat. Leaning over the back of the couch, he looked over at her. “I’m not weak enough to let anyone use me against you,” he told her.

Kia smiled at him, her cheeks red from the alcohol. “I know B; you are a lot stronger than Phoenix was,” she said. Reaching over she grabbed the back of his head pulling him close to rest her forehead against his.

Blushing, Bakugou pulled away. “What the hell was that?”

“It’s an animal thing, I guess you could call it a nuzzle? Dad always did it to comfort us when we were little. I guess I just need some comfort,” Kia smiled. “Sorry, I should have asked first.”

“You’re drunk,” Bakugou accused her.

“Only for the next ten to fifteen minutes. My body tends to metabolize stuff fast,” Kia said, laying her head back on the couch.

Bakugou stood up and moved over to the wall where a bunch of pictures were hung. He recognized the picture of her family. He also saw a photo of her with a group of people that included her three friends he met on video chat. Then there was a picture of her with her arms wrapped around a black and white dog. “You have a dog?” he asked looking back at her.

Kia’s head came up off the couch as she looked at what he was talking about. “Yep, that is my service dog Chloe. I got her after I was rescued, she would wake me up when I was having nightmares,” Kia said lying back on the couch.

“Why didn’t you bring her with you?” he asked.

“There is too much paperwork and regulations here in Japan to bring her over. Besides, I would have to keep her in the apartment and she is used to running through the fields at Dad’s house,” Kia explained.

Looking over the photos, he saw one of Kia holding two infants with a little boy peering over her shoulder. “Those are my nieces and nephew,” Kia said walking up beside him. “Here they are transformed,” she said, pointing to a picture farther down.

Bakugou looked at the picture to see a lion cub with two spotted kittens getting ready to pounce on his tail.

“The twins are jaguars. You can’t tell them apart unless you know the differences in their coat patterns,” she said, her cheeks not as red as they were a little bit ago. Kia continued to tell him about the people in the pictures until it was late.

“Well, I don’t know about you, B, but I’m ready for bed,” Kia said, smothering a yawn.

Bakugou walked over to the balcony door. Before stepping outside, he turned around. “Hey, Sunshine, thanks for telling me,” he said.

Kia smiled at him. “Thanks for listening.”

Bakugou stepped out on the balcony. Making his way to his own apartment, he thought about everything Kia had shared with him tonight. He couldn’t help but feel like she had only told him a small part of her past.

#mha #bnha #katsuki bakugou #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #ground zero #TRP #Kia Hales #OC

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