#two birds on a wire one might even suggest

[nikkodikko]

Some very fancy ladies

I'm studying victorian fashion for a commission and what better use for my knowledge than to draw the ineffable wives in 1820's attire

Regency fashion my beloved nothing beats a really high waisted dress and some puffy sleeves

[thewertsearch]

Second part of the giga-ask compilation!

@publicuniversalworstie asked: Why assume the Horrorterrors would know that changing events would create a doomed timeline? That assumes both A) that the horrorterrors know the future and B) that they don't think it can really be changed. Maybe they genuinely thought they could change things, such as by perhaps fulfilling all the requisite loops a different way? Imagine a scenario where a time traveler learns of their death, therefore being destined to die, and instead fake their death to create the conditions under which they learned of the death originally.

It's possible. But if the Horrorterrors do have a way to trick the Alpha Timeline like that, then they've really been holding out on us by not mentioning it to the Players. Such a revelation would completely change the game - we might even be able to fake the Earth's death.

Anonymous asked: i want to learn more about coding to analyze homestuck better - do you have a place i could start? resources? idk love the liveblog hope you're doin well :]

Absolutely! I've got two separate answers for you, depending on what your goal is here.

If your main goal is just to analyse Homestuck, then you’re probably best off picking a language whose syntax is easy to understand, such as Python. You'll pick up on the basic logic pretty quickly, and the ~ATH snippets will start to make a lot more sense.

If you’re actually interested in programming for its own sake, then I recommend you start with my own first language, C. It’s a lot harder for a newbie to get to grips with, but doing so will give you a much more solid theoretical foundation then ostensibly ‘easier’ languages.

W3schools is a decent starting resource for both languages - but if you need more specific guidance, let me know, and I'd be happy to help!

@skelekingfeddy asked: actually grubmom having the same color wires as in that pic of sahlee wasnt intentional! i based it on how sollux’s game grubs have red and blue wires attached to them

Serendipity!

Anonymous asked: Did you run any mysterious ~ath programs on that computer of yours?

Honestly, running ATH on that thing would probably have improved it.

Anonymous asked: One voice headcanon I have for Terezi is the English dub of Power from Chainsaw man

Honestly, she sounds pretty much exactly how I imagine Terezi does. She even has the horns!

@martinkhall asked: I'm surprised none of the suggested instruments for a time player were an ocarina.

Some fruit is just too low-hanging.

@delicate-ruins asked: what's an animal you like that you think doesn't show up very much in media, be it fiction or news or just generally? example: i like secretary birds. but except for videos about them, i have never heard them references.

They're not obscure, per se, but there will never be enough sloths in media. The only fictional sloth of note is Sid from Ice Age – and he does not do them justice.

Capybaras are also underrated as hell – so much so that LibreOffice, which I'm using to edit this compilation, doesn’t even recognize the word as real!

Anonymous asked: “I’m trying to figure out if it’s fully a Breath outfit, or if there’s some Heir stuff too.” the general rule for god tier outfits is that the colors and symbol represent the aspect, the clothes represent the class. so, for example, if two princes of different aspects ascended, their clothing style would be the same but they would a have different color scheme. @skaiandestiny asked: If you haven't already figured it out, class informs the godtier outfit and aspect informs the colors and icon!

In that case, there is something about John’s outfit that says ‘heir’ – but nothing really stands out to me.

@driventopoison asked: Hey, I don't know if it's just me but it seems like you've skipped ahead. I have been following your liveblog daily, but I haven't seen you come across the windy thing yet. Is this because you were using the app or something? Also just want to let you know that I love your liveblog. Keep up the good work!

Thank you! Anyway, John’s Windy Thing is indeed documented on the liveblog, and it’s visible to me. I was using the app for some of that segment, though – are app-made posts particularly buggy?

@classpecting-guide-official asked: story about a modded game of sburb where the characters notice that something isn't right and slowly realize that their world is a lie

Back in Act 1, this is pretty much what I thought was happening. It was a simpler time.

@ignis-cain asked: Note the colors the capslock flashes for WV.

When WV locks his capsule, the button’s light flashes red and green – but I’m not sure what the significance of these colors is, in this situation.

Anonymous asked: i know i'm SUPER late to answer this, but i think the instantiation thing is the same as any video game, newly made with a prebaked history. when you name your character, that has been their name for their whole life, even though you thought it up a few seconds ago. when you enter the medium, the planet has a history and the denizens have memories, even though they just showed up when you entered.

Yeah, I’m pretty sure this is indeed what’s going on. The implications are just a lot more wild when the game is physically real, rather than virtual!

@kintatsu asked: So, I know I'm a little late to the party, but I have to point out: Alternian sunlight doesn't need to be THAT much stronger than Earth's to blind Terezi as quickly as it did. Trolls are nocturnal, which means they almost definitely have a tapetum lucidum (eyeshine membrane), which means that however much light entered Terezi's eyeballs? Her retinas were blasted by every photon twice.

Damn, Vriska. For a second, I thought this ask was explaining why Terezi wasn't in as much pain as I'd thought - but this alternate explanation might actually be worse than what I was picturing!

@delicate-ruins asked: It's delightful to see somebody read Homestuck and be as charmed by it as I and a lot of my friends were way back when we first read it, and the calm, digesting pace at which you're enjoying it is honestly so nice. I rushed way too much to catch up since my friends recommended it in about 2016, which means I went from knowing nothing about the comic to being caught up on it in like a week. I never sat down with the ideas and thought "hey, does this mean XYZ?" because quite often I got the answer five seconds later as I rushed to catch up. But seeing you asking those questions is so so fun. Yeah, DOES it mean that?? Guess we'll find out! In the meantime, we get to guess, which means we basically get to have fun twice. It's reigniting my enjoyment of homestuck quite significantly, I think!

Thank you! It’s really nice to be able to engage in a dialogue about the comic through these asks, which is something that wouldn't be possible if I was speeding through it. As I always say, I'm here for a good time and a long time.

@manorinthewoods asked: Alright, here's another transtimeline fun fact. Each of the kids was supposed to have a Quest related to their associated material - John had a land covered in oil, Rose's ocean was polluted with chalk, the gears of LOHAC were gummed by amber, and LOFAF was in a nuclear winter. Ultimately, while the ocean of LOLAR is still chalky, nothing but John's oil made the cut. ~LOSS (16/5/23)

I think it was a good change, then. Not everything has to be a pattern, and Dave's two weird maybe-quests are a lot more unique and interesting than a generic 'materials quest'.

@captorations asked: oh hey, this walkaround! so funny story, i used to run a blog where i posted one of terezi’s canon appearances each day, in order. yes, i completed my task, and more besides. however! when i was wandering through this as terezi, a glitch rendered me trapped. i decided that this counted as a noteworthy appearance, and took a screenshot. then, by sheer coincidence, it ended up being posted on… halloween. it was pretty great (also don’t forget to check out ctrl + t)

You accessed the double-secret version of Past Karkat: Wake Up, which plays the Earthbound Halloween Hack version of Megalovania rather than the Homestuck one.

Anonymous asked: Personally, I think John gaining so many levels so quickly is tied to his role as the heir - he gains so many levels without really trying, not because he's better than the trolls or his friends, but because he just kind of falls into it. The game rewards him for taking the path of least resistance.

That certainly makes sense if we just look at John - but I have trouble reconciling this interpretation with our other Heir. Equius certainly has some advantages, but they aren't exactly unique to him, as you'd expect them to be if his Heir class was responsible for them.

Yes, he's a highblood, but he's outranked by three non-Heirs - and his strength doesn't seem to be unique either, as Feferi seems capable of similar feats. Perhaps Equius will trip and fall into more unique privilege, but it hasn't happened yet.

Anonymous asked: my personal headcanons for midnight crew claspects: Slick - Prince of Blood, Droog - Mage of Space, Boxcars - Knight of Heart, Deuce - Bard of Doom. knowing you youre probably gonna attempt to analyse these LOL

Slick has had ties to Blood since he first met Karkat, so that tracks - and Boxcars is a shipper, so Nepeta's aspect is probably the best fit for now. I'm not sure about the other two, but I'll revisit them later!

[mochinek0]

Pissed Off

Marinette couldn't understand what the problem was. Was the universe that against her? Was this just suppose to be her life after weilding a miraculous and becoming the guardian; that nothing in her life would ever be normal?

Marinette glared at the window as yet another bird boy of Gotham came to her boyfriend's window. They had already told two of them to leave. It was date night and she felt like it was coming to an end before it had even begun. She was at her wit's end when Damian suggested they move to the bedroom, instead.

Marinette groaned as someone began to pound on the door to the apartment and ring the bell.

"Seriously?" Damian shouted.

Marinette flashed him one of her sunshine smiles, "Let me handle this, won't you?"

Damian sighed and nodded. Marinette picked a robe and closed the door.

"Tikki; Lucky Charm." she growled out, making her way to the door.

She felt the power of creation in the palm of her hand and grasped it. In her hand appeared a red bat with black dots. She tightened her grip and threw open the door. Red Hood threw himself back, not expecting the tiny woman. Before he could say why he was there, Marinette griped the bat and slammed it across his helmet. Red Hood fell to the ground. He looked up to see the woman glaring at him worse then Bruce ever had.

"Leave and don't come back." She hissed, "Any of you." slamming the door shut.

Damian and Marinette groaned as knocking persisted from the window. Damian threw the curtain back to see Batman.

'Son of a Bitch! Enough is enough!'

Marinette stood up in her lingerie and stalked over to the window, before throwing it open.

"What the fuck could be so fucking important to interrupt us while we're having date night and trying to have sex?" she shouted.

Neither Damian nor Batman expected that kind of response. Marinette glared at him when he failed to answer. Even the boys in the cave flinched under her glare.

"Tikki, Spots On!" Marinette shouted, enveloping herself in a bright pink light.

Ladybug stalked towards Batman in anger, pulling her yo-yo off her hip.

"I finally meet a nice guy, who likes me for me, instead of this stupid costume, and for some reason your stupid pigeons keep interrupting us!" she cried out in frustration, "I don't need some furry interrupting us, too!"

Ladybug threw her yo-yo at him and enveloped him in her line. Try as he might, Batman couldn't escape her grasp. He tried his batarangs, but they couldn't cut the thin wire. She lifted the Dark Knight over her shoulder and threw him. Damian watched in shock as his father was launched across town. Ladybug turned her gaze onto Damian. He kept his eyes on her and gulped. Marinette was powerful. She was magical and that was without the suit. She tossed his father out the window like nothing. He found a new woman to fear and it made him excited. With a sigh, Marinette de-transformed and began to pick up her clothes off the floor.

"Guardian?" Tikki called out.

"Let's go, Tikki." she spoke, sadly.

"Why?" Damian questioned, breaking out of his shocked state, "Where-Where are you going?"

Marinette blushed, turning back to him. Damian felt he was knocked senseless when her emotions altered quickly from anger to sadness and back to the soft angel he knows.

"I figured you would want me to leave." Marinette mumbled, "I don't know what they want, but I don't think it's me. At least, not until I revealed myself. You can deal with whatever you need to." as she turned to leave the room.

Damian reached out and grabbed her wrist, "I don't know what they want and I don't care. What I do know, is that I want you."

Marinette smiled and allowed him to pull her towards him.

"We can talk about the suit tomorrow." he smirked.

Tikki giggled as clothes dropped back onto floor. She left the room and closed the door.

Marinette turned over in her sleep as she heard the doorbell ring constantly.

"Dami, bell." she taps him, "Your turn."

Damian was suddenly aware of the insistent ringing and chuckled as Marinette curled deeper into his sheets. He grabbed his robe and hurried to the door, hoping he could allow her some more sleep. As he entered the living room, he was suddenly made aware of how bright it was outside. Quickly, he threw open the door to threaten whoever was behind it, only for his family to barrel right on in. Damian glared at them, signifying he was unhappy with their unexpected visit. At least until he saw Todd's face and saw a black eye.

"Where is she?" asked Bruce.

"WE were asleep." Damian growled out.

"Did you question her?" Asked Dick, concerned.

"No." the young Wayne stated.

"Why not?" shouted Jason.

"Too busy." Damian answered.

"Too busy? What could you-" Jason complained.

"Dami, who was at the door?" Marinette asked, rubbing her eyes.

The family stared in shocked as the tiny terror that attacked them last night, came out wearing Damian's t-shirt. They could only assume there was nothing underneath it by the way she froze and quickly hurried back into the room, slamming the door.

"Excuse us, while we get dressed." Damian spoke, leaving his family to process what happened.

Marinette walked out of the room, behind Damian, and quickly busied herself with making coffee. She quickly took down some mugs for everyone. As she double checked the amount of people in the house, she noticed that one had a black eye. She set down the mug and looked the new guests over. Mari turned to Damian and looked over his physical appearance, as well, before sighing.

"You're a pigeon, too?" Mari questioned Damian, "Guess now we know why they were here."

"Robin." he answered.

"Hey!" Dick shouted.

"Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, and The Fuckin' Furry." Marinette spoke, as she pointed at each one of them, "What the fuck did you all want anyways?"

"How?" Tim asked.

"Jason's black eye." she smiled, "Smacked him with a magical baseball bat; same location. Also, I'm a designer with an impressive eye for measurements. It's not that hard. Also, tell Clark Kent that glasses were a really stupid idea. How no one has figured him out, I don't know. Maybe too many broken piece of Metropolis buildings fell on them."

Marinette poured herself a cup of coffee, leaving them to get their own. She walked over and sat on Damian's lap, tossing her legs over the arm rest, radiating power, that she belonged there. They had been the people who ruined their evening. Damian just smirked as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

"So?" she questioned, eyeing them.

Bruce sighed, "Who are you?"

"No, I believe I asked you first." Mari spoke, "You all needed something so desperately that you all showed up in intervals, interrupted our time together, and blew your own identities."

"Talia's alive." Bruce declared.

"Who?" Marinette asked.

"My mother." Damian growled, "You're not one of her spies…right?"

"No, Love." she smiled at him.

"Who are you then?" asked Tim.

"Ladybug. I was given the Ladybug miraculous when I was thirteen. I already defeated my villain. If you need confirmation, you can ask Wonder Woman; her mother was a previous wielder." Mari began.

"You had training?" Jason questioned.

Mari shook her head, "It was in my room and I was told to fight. I became a child soldier. When I was seventeen, we, my partner, Chat Noir, and I, finally caught Hawkmoth. Turns out, it was his father. He was a mess. So, I made him a deal: I wouldn't arrest his father, but I would keep the miraculi ONLY if he gave up his. I would gain three miraculi and seal them away and he could rebuild his life, but he would never find out who I was."

"What?" the brothers shouted.

"You didn't know who your partner was?" asked Dick.

"It was forbidden. We were told that our miraculi would be taken away and our master succeeded in doing just that, one time, fearing for our lives, but we managed to get them back. We even managed to still keep out identities hidden." Marinette explained, "At fourteen, I was made the new Guardian. My master was captured by Hawkmoth and he granted me guardianship, forcing himself to lose all memories of the miraculous."

"Would that happen to you?" Damian questioned.

"I believe there is another way to pass guardianship." she smiled at him, "There was an order long before my time. When I became Guardian, I stuck to that rule even more. Chat Noir had a tendency to fall under the spells of the akumas or die."

"So, not much of a partner." Jason quipped.

"He took the hits he believed were meant for me. I could reset the damage done by the akumas; he couldn't." Marinette sighed.

"The deal." Bruce spoke.

Marinette took a deep breath and let it out, as she gripped her mug, "Chat Noir was in love with my Ladybug persona. He wanted to know who I was from Day One. He said we were soulmates and belonged together. The Ladybug and Chat miraculi are balance: Yin and Yang. Long ago, I had promised that once Hawkmoth was defeated, we could finally meet who was under the masks. That he may have a chance. When that day came….we found out Hawkmoth was his father. So I made him choose: his father or the idea of the girl he loved. He handed over his miraculi without a word and I left."

"I made an announcement to Paris that Hawkmoth's reign was over." she continued, "I showed them the miraculi as proof and explained that during the battle, Hawkmoth and Chat Noir perished. No one would ever look for them. I told them I was leaving Paris and never reappeared. I would see him at school. He seemed haunted. I don't know if it was with the knowledge of his father or just that he would never know who I was so I consulted the kwamis on what to do."

"Kwamis?" asked the boys.

"Tikki." Marinette called out.

Tikki yawned as she fluttered out of the cupboard.

"What?" cried out Tim.

"I am Tikki, the kwami of the Ladybug miraculous and the Goddess of Creation." Tikki explained.

"There are others like her?" Damian asked.

"Yes." Marinette spoke, before taking another sip of coffee, "They told me they knew of a way to make him forget, similar to how the previous guardian forgot. So, I created the spell and placed it in a macaron. He thanked me and called me a great friend. He took a bite and I walked away."

"So what happened?" asked Jason.

"I had other Kwamis cast protection and illusions on social media about my hero persona. Technically, Ladybug never existed." she shrugged, "The next day at school, he was asking if I was a new student. People were asking if he hit his head and that we had been friends for years. We graduated soon after and I came here."

"Have you checked on him?" questioned the eldest Wayne.

Marinette shook her head and replied, "I did the right thing. Even if his father tries to pry or tell him, he'll think it's a story from his childhood."

"Can we meet the others?" Dick asked, excitedly.

"They should probably stretch out and get treats." Marinette responded, "How about tonight?"

"Cave?" asked Tim.

"If you prefer. Oh, and don't even bother trying to capture them. They can't be seen on film and can faze through anything. They are bound to their miraculous. You try and take them, I will kill you." Mari growled out.

"You wouldn't." Jason chuckled.

"My yo-yo sliced through the Eiffel Tower, regularly. It can probably slice through skin like butter." She stated, in anger, "Not to mention, the kwami of destruction sunk Atlantis. I would tread with caution."

Damian smirked and grabbed her coffee mug, before setting it down on the table. Bruce could sense the conversation had ended and led his other sons out the door, after a promise that they would both be at Wayne Manor for dinner.

Damian picked her up and said, "Come, My Little Bug, I'm going to make sure you're treated like a queen." as he took her back to the room.

Tikki smiled as she felt the world shifting back into balance.

'He would make a great black cat.'

PERMANENT TAG LIST:  @animeweebgirl​ @animegirlweeb​ @abrx2002​ @blueblossombliss​ @thepaceperson​ @alysrose-starchild​ @marveldcedits20​ @09shell-sea09​ @nickristus-dreamer​ @saltymiraculer​ @icerosecrystal​ @vixen-uchiha​ @a-star-with-a-human-name​ @meme991001​ @fandom-trapped-03​ @dood-space​ @moonlightstar64​ @insane-fangirl-of-everything

[socialwicked]

The Best Binoculars (2022): Nikon, Celestron, Swarovski, Zeiss

Binoculars imply the  difference concerning viewing a minimal gray fowl and identifying a titmouse, cheering a home operate and seeing the epic capture, or noticing that the 10-place buck is really a doe standing in entrance of dead branches.

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  Binoculars are commonly shown with two variety specifications for instance, the Nikon Monarch M5 are 8×42. 

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  The 42 refers to the dimensions of the front lens in millimeters . The larger the lens size, the a lot more light-weight reaches your eye. That means the graphic will be larger, brighter, and clearer. A pair of 8×42 binoculars are often noticeably brighter and have a greater viewing knowledge than a pair of 8×32 binoculars, even although the two supply the exact magnification. But the much larger you get, the a lot more glass they will use—so they will weigh far more. The weight distinction concerning a pair of 8×32 and 10×42 binoculars is substantial if you might be putting on them all day. We suggest sticking with the 26-50 assortment. Our best pick is about in the middle, at 8×42, normally regarded as the sweet place for most persons.

 Nikon’s Monarch 5 binoculars were my very first “authentic” binoculars. Years afterwards, their upgraded M5 is my prime pick for most people today just getting started off. These offer you good bang for your buck, and the 8×42 magnification is the most adaptable. It is just not just me, possibly. These are some of the most typical binoculars I see when I am out birding.

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https://socialwicked.com/the-best-binoculars-2022-nikon-celestron-swarovski-zeiss/

[neonacity]

LUCID | NCT DREAM ‘00 LINE X READER | CH.6

LUCID DREAMS - A TYPE OF DREAM WHEREIN THE PERSON IS AWARE THAT THEY ARE CAUGHT IN A DREAM WORLD.

Summary: It was supposed to be a harmless, professional transaction. You were to tutor a group of boys, get your pay at the end of the day, and go home to your loving fiance. Kids aren’t supposed to be dangerous, right? So why, then, are you caught up in a web of madness that slowly makes you feel like you’re in a living nightmare?

NOTE:This is a yandere plot featuring NCT Dream ‘00 line which means there will be mature themes in the story as well as obsessive, toxic behavior. If you’re a minor, please refrain from interacting. If this isn’t your thing, then just scroll and skip. In no way am I condoning anything written here— this is not love, this is obsession—nor do I think that any of the people mentioned here will act any way like in this story. This is purely a work of fiction.

Genre: yandere, horror, suspense

TW: abuse, obsessive behavior, toxic relationships, suggestive scenes, stalking, possible kidnapping, mental health. Age gap–though nothing dramatic. Everyone is of legal age, drugs, slight smut for this chapter but nothing graphic, questionable consent (?) I guess? Creepy, creepy, creepy! This will be updated as the story goes along.

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5

“EVERYONE HAS A DARKER NATURE. EVERYONE. GOOD MEN FEAR IT, AND EVIL MEN EMBRACE IT.” - JAMES ISLINGTON

The silent hum of the air conditioning filled the space like a foreboding chant. Nothing else but the sound of the hospital machinery and random noises outside pierced the stillness of the room as you stared, unseeing, at the green and orange numbers that blinked on the monitor above the bed. 

You barely have any recollection of how you managed to find yourself in the hospital, but you do remember brief memories of Taeyong picking you up from the floor you found yourself crumpled on after you got the call. You remember seeing Jaehyun's parents at a brightly lit corridor and his mother pulling you into a hug as she broke down and his father telling you how his son hasn't woken up since he was brought to the emergency room.

You remember your heart breaking in shock, mind too numb from the godforsaken pills you have been taking and your own injury. So many times you wondered to yourself if you were still caught in one of your nightmares, but every time you tried to break free from it, you're slapped back with the reality of how all of this is real.

Your fingers gently tightened on Jaehyun's hands now as your gaze landed on his face. He looked so peaceful, like he's just sleeping, that you almost wanted to bend over and try to kiss him awake. You don't even have any idea what time and day it is already, but you have barely left his side since you were brought to him. The nightmares and sleeplessness? They're barely a problem for you anymore because right now, you're entirely not resting at all unless your body forces you to crash from physical exhaustion. Even then, you usually only sleep for about two to three hours at best to make sure that you never miss a moment with your fiance.

"Severe traumatic head injury. He was lucky enough that the airbag shielded him from the worst of the impact."

The words of his attending doctor echoed in your head again like a faraway voice. You could only remember bits and pieces of what he said to his parents back then as he reported his findings, but you caught enough context for you to draw a picture of the situation. You remember Jaehyun's mother asking the chances of her son waking up again, her voice barely holding up from her emotions. 

"I cannot promise anything, Ma'm. I'd say he has a 60 percent chance. He's fighting."

And he is. You know Jaehyun inside out. He might be unconscious now, but there is no way he is giving up. Not from something like this. 

"Keep fighting baby…" you whispered in the stillness of the room as you lifted his hand gently to your lips to kiss. "I'll wait for you. We still have a wedding to do."

The slight creaking of the door barely made you look away from his sleeping face. You only did at the gentle sound of a throat clearing, your eyes slightly widening as you recognized the man who just walked inside the room. Taeil had the same mildly shocked look on him as he stopped on the  other side of the bed across from you. 

"You…"

"Are you a relative of the patient?" He asked now as he tucked his clipboard under his arm. You simply nodded, watching him quickly glance at the numbers on the monitor before his eyes settled on you again.

"I'm his fiancee."

That made him raise his brows slightly. He pulled a pen now from the pocket of his coat to quickly write something on his file. "What a coincidence. Not a good one obviously. I'm sorry to hear about him. Mr. Jung, right?"

You swallowed. You didn't want to acknowledge anything that he just said so you tried to divert the conversation instead.

"You're not his doctor. Why are you…"

"Oh. He was turned over to me today. I am one of the resident neurologists here but he had to be moved to me because his first doctor has too much in his plate already. Don't worry, I was briefed properly about his case."

Your gaze followed Taeil as he bent over to check Jaehyun's oxygen level as well as the other wires attached to him. You don't know what to feel about him taking over, but at least you already know him previously.

"Are there any changes? Positive ones?" You asked in a frail voice that Taeil definitely didn't miss. You told yourself to not act silly and ask questions that probably do not have answers yet, but you couldn't help yourself now. The man seemed to think over his words first, noticing your state, before calmly giving his reply.

"No particular ones, but the fact that there are no negative developments is… something. I will have to request for some tests to be done on him again tomorrow so we can see if there are positive changes in his brain."

Neutral. Not good, but at least it's not bad either.

"How are you? I was about to check on you again. Is your head okay?"

You were still thinking over his words that you barely caught his question. Looking up, you tried to scramble for an answer to give. To be honest, you haven't given proper attention to your own injury since this happened. You would even only remember to take your medications on your clearest, less anxious moments, which, honestly, isn’t a lot. 

"I'm uh… the wound has closed. But the headaches. They're still there."

He simply nodded. "Any other side effects?"

You didn't immediately answer. You didn't want to sound whiny, but it's not like you're going to lose anything by telling him the uglier parts of your recovery. You swallowed to try and dislodge the slight blockage in your throat.

"Nightmares…" you said now, voice soft. You briefly remembered the last one you had back in the manor before you woke up to the bad news and you felt your stomach turn again. "Lots of them. Hallucinations sometimes…"

The doctor watched you carefully and you know he is trying to compute things in his mind despite his face remaining calm.

"Have you been keeping to your schedule with your medications? Are you taking too much?"

You firmly shook your head no to his last question.

"No, I haven't been overdosing. But… I've been skipping my pills the last few days because of...because of this."

"How have you been feeling since you started missing your dosages then? Do you remember?"

That made you actually stop and think about it for a moment. Now that you are paying attention, you did notice how the nightmares have calmed down slightly. Even the hallucinations are almost gone. You frowned slightly to yourself.

"A bit… better actually."

Taeil took his time to observe you a bit more before writing something on a new page of his clipboard.

"You must have had severe reactions to the mixture of pills I gave you. I'm going to prescribe you new ones and ask the nurses to pick them up and bring them to you here. Can you promise that you'll try and take them though? You really need them to fully heal."

You nodded and gave him a slightly sheepish look.

"I will, thank you very much."

Taeil dug his hands into the pockets of his coat and gave you a gentle smile.

"Well, that's it for today. I'll come back tomorrow to give you updates about Mr. Jung." He had already turned and started walking away when he suddenly stopped to look at you again.

"Oh, and another thing. Please try and get some sleep. Recover… and then focus on helping your fiance."

******* You didn't really know what woke you up. Stirring from your sleep, the first thing that registered to you was the sound of distant traffic mixed with the gentle chirping of the morning birds from outside the window. A warm feeling radiated on your cheek and made the back of your eyelids glow red.

You flickered your eyes open and immediately rolled away to escape the ray of sunshine that slipped from the open curtains and shone directly at your face. You easily evaded it as you moved over to the other side of the bed which was empty and cold from the night before.

That was when you finally remembered that you were back in your home, in the same bedroom you share with Jaehyun. The day before, his mother offered to take the responsibility of watching over him so there was a sudden change of plans that finally gave you the reason to check back into your apartment after so long. If it were you, you would have preferred not leaving your boyfriend’s side until he wakes up, but you also knew that your future mother-in-law wanted to spend time with him so you relented. 

Of course you weren't thrilled to be home alone, especially with Jaehyun not being there, but the comfort that a real mattress provided—over the small couch you used to sleep in back at the hospital—is definitely a welcome change for your body. You even tried to take your medicine properly, the new ones that Taeil had provided, in the hopes of getting knocked down fast. Your adrenaline and anxiety had been fueling you in the past days, but you know from the way your heart thumped and your hands shook that you need a solid rest.

And you got it. You still feel a little groggy now but your body is definitely lighter and your head clearer. The nightmares didn't even come, and while they were replaced by total darkness or dreams in white that still made you anxious, you are willing to take those anytime over the graphic ones that you used to have.

You gently sat back against the headrest of the bed now and reached out for your phone to check the time. It's barely 7AM but as expected, Jaehyun's mom has already provided you with updates from the hospital. He’ll have some tests taken today as Taeil advised and then they’ll hear more about his progress. From the looks of it, she seems still set on watching over her son, which means you still have at least today free to yourself.

You quickly typed a reply to her and sighed. You’re thankful that even though you weren’t related by blood, his parents have always treated you as if you were their own. Having a family is not something you’ve really experienced in your childhood, so that’s something you’ve always appreciated about them. That is also the reason why you wish for the best out of this situation, because you also couldn’t bear seeing your fiance’s mother and father heartbroken. He’s their only son, after all.

A quick look around your room left you feeling empty. The last week has been so hard that it felt longer and now you’re struggling to find your normal pace again. In an effort to bring yourself to focus, you decided to pick up your phone once more and started flipping through your calendar to check your schedule. It didn’t take long for you to frown when you realized the upcoming dates there. You’ve plotted important academic schedules in advance and one quick look at it told you how much you’ve obviously missed in the past week. You’ve been so lost in the mess of everything that has happened that you’ve entirely forgotten about your job at the manor. You realized that they didn’t even call you once to ask about your absence, probably because they also know about the situation, but even that is not enough excuse for you to entirely fall off the radar.  

Biting your lip, you quickly scrolled through your contacts now to look for the number you need. Your thumb hovered over the call button momentarily, but you eventually pressed it anyway. Your eyes wandered towards the clock on the wall, hoping silently to yourself that it wasn’t too early for you to call.

“Rosewood Manor, how can I help you?”

You straightened on your seat.

“Hey, Taeyong. It’s me. Sorry if I called so early.”

The other boy seemed to have been taken slightly by surprise by the way he fell silent at the other end of the line. You tapped your finger against your knee, waiting for him to speak again.

“Hi. No, it’s fine. Work started for me about an hour ago. Are you okay? How’s things on your end?”

You nibbled guiltily on your lower lip and finally got off your bed to walk over to the window. You pushed the curtains open and stared at the slight snowfall that had started falling on the ground. You’ve missed so many days of reporting to them but the first thing he does is to check if you’re fine.

“I um—things are still the same. My boyfriend’s still at the hospital.”

“Oh… I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Look, I want to apologize. I haven’t really reported to work and I didn’t even call about it. It’s just that—things have been so crazy lately, but still that isn’t an excuse for me to just not show up.”

Taeyong, however, was understanding as always. You were about to go off for another round of apologies when he gently cut you off. 

“Hey, it’s fine. We know you’ve been dealing with a lot lately so we also weren't expecting anything. Don’t worry too much about it.”

“But, the boys’ examinations and portfolio review is happening in three days and I haven’t really checked in with them. How are they doing now?”

“Oh...that. Well, we actually tried looking for a temporary tutor to help out but I...uh… I think he isn't really cutting it. Maybe because he isn’t the one who started the program with them. But he’s a big help still.”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry about that. I should have at least—look, I can drop by today and just try to fix things.”

“Are you sure? You really don’t have to. Don’t you need to be at the hospital?”

You started going around your room now, trying to gather the scattered papers and files that you’ll need. It’s a good thing you woke up early so you still have time to prepare for work. “My boyfriend’s mother is the one watching over him today so I have the day off.”

“And your injury? How is it?”

Your eyes landed on the new bottles of medicine sitting on your bedside table.

“Better. I’m feeling so much better.”

You heard Taeyong sigh in relief over the phone. “Thank god. We were so worried about that. Well, you really don’t need to go, but if you have time, I guess doing it today won’t hurt. It will help us a lot.”

A small smile tugged at your lips now and you switched the phone over to your other ear as you started arranging your bag. “Thank you so much for being understanding. I need a distraction anyway. I’d rather work than stay home alone… Thanks for not firing me.”

That made him laugh a little. “I’ll tell the boys that you’re coming over. Oh, and be careful on your drive here. The roads are a little bit slippery today because of the snow.”

“I will, thank you. I’ll be there by 9.”

******* “Noona!”

You have barely finished arranging your materials on your desk when the door to the room burst open and ushered an anxious-looking Jisung inside. You looked up quickly at him, only barely catching Chenle wobbling with his crutch before your vision of the entrance was blocked by Jisung’s tall frame. His hair looked swept up as if he ran and there was a slight flush staining his cheeks. He stopped right in front of you, stopping just in time for him not to topple you over.

“Hey, Jisung how are—” You tried to give him a smile but he was quick enough to grab your hands between his.  

“Are you back? Are you really back for real?” He pressed now, eyes wide as he tried to bend over to look closely at you. He looked like a puppy, the only missing thing being a wagging tail to complete the look. You couldn’t help the brief laugh that passed over you as you tried to calm him down.

“I am. For the day, yes. Sorry I missed so many of your sessions.”

“We thought you left us,” Jisung continued, his lower lip protruding just a bit. Just then, Chenle had finally reached the two of you, a slightly embarrassed look on his face. This is actually the first time you saw him again since the day the two of you had your accident and you’re glad to see him healthy despite his broken leg.

“Hi, Chenle. How are you?”

The boy scratched the back of his head and looked away slightly. “Fine… I’m sorry, noona. I wasn’t able to visit you when you stayed with us. I’m really really sorry about what happened in the forest.”

You tried to give him a reassuring smile and freed one of your hands from Jisung’s hold to ruffle his hair. The action seemed to have calmed him down a little because he finally looked at you again, a small apologetic smile on his own lips.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault. But be careful next time, okay?”

“Are you going to be our tutor again, noona?” Jisung pressed once more and you turned your attention back to him. To be honest, you’re still not sure how your schedule will turn out after this, but you couldn’t really bear to break the poor boy’s heart at the moment.

“Yes… I’m here to teach your big brothers today for their tests though. We’ll have to schedule you and Chenle’s lessons again. Is that alright?”

A brief look of disappointment flashed on his face but he was quick enough to pick it up. Jisung smiled and gave your hand a squeeze.

“Okay. We can wait. It’s good you are back, Jaemin-hyung was so—”

“Yah, don’t hog her by yourself. You’ll scare her away.”

A new voice made the three of you look back to the doorway. Haechan smiled at your little group as he strolled casually into the room followed by Jeno and Jaemin. The three of them joined your crowd and you felt Jisung finally let go of your hand as he stepped away to go over to his brothers’ side.

“Hi. Sorry, I only returned now. Taeyong told me that you—”

You weren’t able to finish what you wanted to say as Haechan gently stopped you mid-sentence. He leaned his head to the side, eyes briefly scanning you from head to toe. Unlike Jisung, he looked calm and only barely excited.

“It’s fine. We knew you’ll come back. How are you?”

“Oh… I’m good. My head is better. I haven’t had the chance to thank all of you for taking care of me when I was here.”

“How about your boyfriend?” It was Jeno who asked this time and you quickly turned to him to address his question. Your eyes briefly slipped to Jaemin who was standing behind him before you could even speak though, and for a moment you had the impression that Jeno was shielding him—or blocking him from you. You blinked a little bit in confusion, wondering if it was just your imagination that was making you think that way.

“He’s still… still unconscious,” your smile dropped a little but you tried your best to keep your voice casual. “We’re getting more tests for him. His doctor said that he isn’t showing bad signs at least.”

“I’m so sorry to hear about him,” Haechan said with compassion and you gave him a grateful look. Your gaze settled on Jaemin again, however, who for some reason had barely looked at you since he came into the room. You know that he can be quiet and reserved at times, but there is something in the air around him that makes you slightly worried. He’s so still, but the way he carries himself makes it seem like he’s so strung up at the same time. It also doesn’t help that Jeno seems to be almost pushing him back from view.

“Hi Jaemin… How are you?” You tried to gently ask him to make sure that he is okay. He didn’t look at you at first, but when he finally did, you felt yourself freeze a little. His eyes looked dark and almost emotionless when he met yours and there were shadows under them as if he hadn't slept properly for days. He didn’t even answer and just simply stared, his gaze blank and accusing at the same time.

Haechan casually glanced over his brother and chuckled. “Our Jaeminie here has been sick for the past couple of days so he’s a little out of it. But he’s going to be fine now,” he put a hand over the other’s shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze as if to calm him down. “Right, Jaemin? We’ll try our best to go to class today since noona is finally back, hmm?”

Jaemin, however, didn’t even seem to hear him. He continued staring at you the same way that kept you pinned on your spot.

“Are you leaving again?” he finally asked and you almost felt goosebumps rise on your skin. It didn’t sound like a question… but more of a threat. You swallowed.

“I’m going to have to arrange my schedule till things get better…” you answered carefully, as if you’re navigating dark waters. That didn’t seem to cut it for him, unfortunately.

“So you’re not leaving. Forever?”

You blinked. To be honest, you’ve been thinking of quitting and just finishing the rest of the month if things didn’t improve, but you don’t think that’s the right answer to give at the moment.

“No… not for now,” you finally managed to say. You watched as Jaemin seemed to visibly relax, his stiff shoulders loosening under Haechan’s grip. He didn’t say anything after that, but he at least looked away, seemingly more satisfied with your words.

“Great. I think we should get to work,” Haechan broke the silence and looked around the room as if the tension you were feeling was just something only you could feel. He nodded towards Chenle and Jisung then. “You guys go back to your own classes. You’ll have your share of noona once it’s your turn.” He then glanced at you, smile still in place. “Should we start then?”

You nodded. “Is Renjun still not back?”

“Not yet. He’s going to be here tomorrow though,” Jeno answered as he took his seat on one of the desks.

“I see…”

Haechan also found his spot, but not before you’ve noticed him urging Jaemin to do the same. Playfully, he took the pencil you’ve arranged on the desk and started tapping it against the wood of the table.

“Don’t worry. We’ll tell him you’re back. I’m sure he can’t wait to have his lessons again~”

******* You looked over the window for the third time in the last fifteen minutes and sighed. The day had been busy with you trying to catch up on the boys’ lessons that you barely even noticed the state of the weather outside. When you finally did, it took you by surprise when you saw how much of the ground was covered by snow—one look at it told you that it is at least a feet deep by now. Your first instinct was to try and maneuver your car out of the lot before your tires get entirely buried in it, but then you remembered that you promised to wait for Taeyong to come back before leaving the manor. The butler requested for you to temporarily watch over the manor while he tries to do some last minute errands back in the city, but it’s been two hours since he originally promised to come back. You eyes glanced at your watch now, then back at the quickly darkening view outside. 

“...severe snowstorm has blocked some of the main roads in the city at the moment. Expect heavy traffic and don’t forget to drive safely.”

You turned to the television now to catch the last of the rambling dialogue of the reporter about the weather. You’ve been debating on whether to call Taeyong or not to check on him, but you didn’t want to seem impatient to go home when you only really wanted to make sure if he’s safe. From the looks of it, he’s stuck somewhere because of the hale, too.

You were on your way to get your phone from your bag to at least try to shoot him a message when you suddenly heard it ring. Getting it just in time, you almost sighed in relief when you saw his number there. You quickly took it and went over to the window to answer it to make sure you get some proper signal.

“Hello? Taeyong?”

“Hey. Finally. I’ve been trying to call you for the last hour, thank god it finally connected.”

“Oh, sorry, my phone’s in my bag. I think the signal’s getting bad because of the snowstorm. Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, about that, I’m still stuck in town. The traffic’s so bad here because a section of the main road is blocked. Road maintenance is supposed to come thirty minutes ago but I think there’s a delay because there are other roads they are working on.”

Your gaze drifted back to the television where scenes of the same blocked avenues were being flashed. “Yeah… the news says the same.  Are you safe though?”

“I am. I’m really sorry for making you wait. I’d tell you to drive back and not wait for me anymore but I don’t think you’ll also make it home in time with all this traffic going on. I don’t think it’s going to be safe. Do you mind waiting for a little bit more? I’ll tell you once the roads are better.”

You thought it over quickly, a frown settling on your face. You really want to go home, but he’s right. There’s no point in trying to drive back if you’ll only find yourself stuck in the roads for hours. Not being a big fan of night driving yourself, you can already imagine the stress waiting for you if you add a snowstorm to the mix. As much as you wanted to leave, you’re left with no choice, at least for the moment.

 “I can… I’ll just wait for you, I guess. Do you want me to do anything here while you’re gone? Dinner for the boys?”

“Oh no, no, you don’t need to do that, that’s not part of your job,” Taeyong sounded abashed when he said that. You stepped away from the window then and took a seat by the fireplace that Jeno started earlier. Half of your concentration was on the news which has now shifted to a different set of reports also caused by the snowstorm. “They’ll know when to go down and eat. Don’t worry about them. Where are they right now?”

“Ah, I think they went back to their rooms? I did tell them earlier that I’ll try to wait for you.”

“I see. Yes, I think that’s better. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you updated. If things don’t get better, I think I’ll have no other choice but find a hostel here and wait for the weather to calm down. You can stay there and just ask for help from any of them. You can stay in the same room just in case.”

You didn’t quickly react to the offer. Instead, your eyes flickered to the doorway of the room before refocusing your attention back to the conversation. It’s not like you have anything against spending the night again at the manor—you’ve done it before, after all—but it’s honestly not really something you’re comfortable to do again. Maybe it’s because you’ve never really been okay with overstaying at strangers’ houses but your gut feel is also telling you right now that it shouldn’t be your top option regardless of the situation you are in.

Still, you didn’t want to come off rude to Taeyong, not when he is only being kind to offer you temporary shelter while being stuck in the middle of nowhere himself. So instead, you went against your initial doubts and offered him your thanks in return. It’s just Plan B that he’s proposing after all. 

“I will. Keep me updated though if you need anything you think I can help with.”

“Thank you and I will. I have to go now though. Please make yourself at home. I’ll try to call again after an hour.”

“Okay. Take care.”

You put your phone down now with a worried frown as you heard the line drop. You couldn’t believe this is happening the first day you got back to work but it’s not like you can really blame anyone for it. The only good thing is that you’re sure Jaehyun is being taken care of right now so that is at least one thing off your shoulders. You didn’t really need to rush anywhere, not especially to a vacant home. Leaning back against your seat, you tried your best to relax as your gaze travelled around the room once again. You deliberated on sending a text to your mother-in-law to tell her about your situation but decided against it, not wanting to worry her more. You sighed. For now, you guess you didn’t have any other choice but to wait.

You did try to distract yourself by watching the news for a few more minutes before finally giving up on it. With resignation, you picked yourself up from your seat again and turned the television off. For a moment you simply stood in the middle of the room, trying to figure out what to do with your time when your gaze settled on the door again. Everyone retreated to their own rooms after they finished with their lessons so it means the house is pretty much yours for exploring if you wanted to. You toyed with the idea for a little bit, before finally resigning yourself to it. It’s not like there really is anything else left for you to do, and Taeyong did say you can make yourself feel at home if you wanted to. With a sigh, you finally turned on your heels to leave the room and peered silently into the hallway. It was deserted as expected, but still your eyes travelled left and right to check if there’s anyone out and about at this hour. It was only after you made sure that you were alone when you finally allowed yourself to step into the corridor.

Of course, you have a plan. You’re pretty much sure that checking out the rooms on the first floor is acceptable since it’s where you’ve been rotating your classes so you’re going to stick to those areas. You remember finding a library there once and you focused on finding your way to it to maybe check out some of the books in the collection. 

It did take you about five minutes to finally find the place you were looking for. For some reason, the sections in the manor always confuse you no matter how many times you try to memorize each one, probably because of how big and similar-looking they are on the outside. You’ve already tried four doors when you were finally welcomed by the familiar-looking bookshelves at the fifth one. You sighed and gave one quick look around the room before slipping yourself inside after making sure that you’re alone.

There will probably never be a time when you won’t find yourself fascinated by anything in this grand home. If the architecture of the mansion is not enough to convince anyone how rich the family is, their book collection is enough to assure that at the very least. You’ve only ever taken a quick glimpse of it once during one of your lessons with the boys, but one look of the titles in their shelves is enough to make any literature major excited. You looked at the floor to ceiling collection now, your fingers gently running over the spines of the books you could reach with a small smile on your face.

You were about to check out the rest of the collection on the other side of the wall when something in the middle of the room caught your attention. You didn’t really catch it at first because of the shadows that concealed it when you first came in, but you could pretty much discern the outline of a blanket covered standee now from where you stood. You frowned. Taking careful steps, you closed the distance towards it to try and figure out what exactly it is that you’re seeing.

A closer look revealed it to be an easel covered with white cloth. You could see the outline of the canvas where the blanket falls over it while shadows of colors peeked out into the thin fabric from the surface it was covering. How odd… you knew that Renjun had a different art room for his paintings so to see this now here in the middle of the library seems uncanny.

You didn’t know how long you remained standing in front of it, too. You know you should have walked away—after all, the white cloth hiding it away from plain view means whatever is on that canvas is not meant for everyone’s eyes to see, but you simply couldn’t tear yourself away from it. It’s as if there was a silent force asking you to pull that cloth to reveal what’s underneath, the inclination so strong that you could almost hear its voice breathing down next to your ear, unrelenting until you do what it says.

The next thing you know, you had your hand attached to one end of the fabric. You stared at it now, wondering last minute if you should go ahead or not. You swallowed and glanced around one last time around the room. If you’re alone… it wouldn’t hurt if you could take a peek, right? Nobody will know. You just have to see, then cover it back again. Before you could even think about it too much, your arm was finally moving on its own as it gently tugged at the covering. You watched as it fell gently on the floor, like a bodiless ghost melting into the shadows on the ground.

Your eyes couldn’t make out what you were seeing at first. The dim lighting of the room wasn’t helping at all, but you were sure that it was a woman’s silhouette that was staring back at you from the canvas. Colors swirled around her, like some unknown mass trying to drag her back into unknown depths. Shapes and tones jumped from the picture, but her form stood out from the rest, gracefully twisted as if she was in the middle of trying to fight and succumb to it at the same time. You frowned. Taking a step closer towards it, you tried to study its details under what little illumination the lamps above afforded you.

That’s when it all happened simultaneously. Your heart stopped beating the same time your eyes widened as they finally focused on what’s in front of them. It’s as if the ground suddenly vanished from underneath your feet and you were falling, falling, deep into the abyss despite your body being frozen in fear and shock.

You know this painting. You’ve seen it before. It was the same one by Renjun, the one that you saw on your first day working in the manor.

But it was different now. Instead of the unfinished state that caught your attention before, everything about the picture now is in sharp focus. The lines on the woman’s nude body, the hands—which you thought were simply dark swirls dragging her back—and her face twisted beautifully in pleasure and madness stared back at you like a nightmare.

But it was not those which truly shook you to your core. It’s the realization that it was your own face in the portrait that was staring back at you, silently screaming for you to run away.

You stumbled back in shock. Your chest felt tight as you tried to grasp for air while your hands fumbled to find something to hold on to keep you from crashing on the ground. Before you could even take another step, however, something hard hit your back and you felt strong arms wrap around your waist like a vice. You have barely realized what was happening when you felt someone lean over your shoulder, lips pressing against the shell of your ear.

“Isn’t it beautiful? You’re the perfect muse, don’t you think?” Renjun asked softly as he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple.

******* You didn’t know how long you stayed frozen in his embrace. For a brief moment you thought you were dreaming again until you felt his arms slowly tighten around your waist. As if a jolt of electricity shocked you, you immediately turned to push him away as you scrambled to put some distance between the two of you.

Renjun didn’t seem the least bothered when your eyes finally focused on him. He remained on his spot, his gaze on you unwavering. You, meanwhile, were shaking from head to toe, the vision of the painting still branded vividly in your head.

“Renjun—what’s this?” you managed to stutter as you pointed at the artwork in the middle of the room. You couldn’t even spare to look at it again while he merely gave it a casual glance.

“It’s you. I’ve been working on it for a long time. I was about to show it to you but it seems like you couldn’t wait for it yourself.”

You felt nauseous. A part of your rational mind was slowly losing it as you tried to process his answer. Something's not right. Something is so terribly wrong.

“Why—why did you do this?”

Renjun simply stared at you and leaned his head a little bit to the side as if he was only mildly curious of your reaction. Your stomach turned even before hearing his answer.

“You said it’s beautiful.”

“This is not right—!”

“I came home because they said you were leaving for good,” he continued speaking softly, effectively cutting you from what you were about to say. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end and you took another step back as you watched him get close to his artwork. You watched in horror as his thin fingers lovingly ran over the corners of the canvas. “Jaemin almost lost it… It’s a good thing I got here on time.”

And just like that, everything seemed to have clicked into place. The glances, the touches, the words that seemed to have a different undercurrent under them… they weren’t just fragments of your imagination. Every little thing that has gnawed at you from the inside came into crystal clear focus and you felt your knees go weak from the weight of it all. It took every fiber of your being to try and keep yourself steady now, your legs moving on their own as they took small backward steps away from the boy staring at you now with dead eyes. You couldn’t breathe, but it was the last words he told you that finally snapped you to run.

“I don’t think you’ve realized it yet. But no, you cannot leave. Ever.”

You didn’t know where you got the energy for it but in seconds you were flying out of that room and running blindly down the darkened corridors. Your blood pumped noisily in your ears and your chest felt like it was going to split from the sudden exertion you put on it, but you didn’t stop, not even looking back as you tried to put as much distance between you and the library. You didn’t even know where you were going. All you’re focused on is to find the exit and leave the house as soon as possible.

A loud bang that sounded off to your right startled you and you screamed, the force of your shock making you whip around and almost lose your balance. Before you could even hit the floor, however, a pair of hands caught you and you immediately turned, grasping at the chest of your rescuer.

You froze. Haechan smiled down at you as he tried to steady you on your feet.

“Haechan,” you gasped as you took fistfuls of his shirt and tried to shake him in your panic. “Renjun—he’s—please, help me. He’s after me—” you gasped out, almost out of your wits. You’re on the verge of a total breakdown that it almost escaped you, the way he simply smiled down on your shaking form. It was only when you felt one of his hands gently caress the top of your head that reality slapped you in the face again. You suddenly stopped struggling in his hold, pupils shaking as you watched him study your features lovingly.

“Shh… it’s fine. I got you,” he whispered and you could swear ice pricked you from the inside. A slight movement to the right made you turn your head and you saw Jaemin lean casually against the banister of the stairs, his face serene. He gave you one quick look before a gentle smile finally lit up his features.

“Has it started?” he asked and you felt Haechan’s hold on you tighten.

“It has.”

You didn’t struggle. It was as if any trace of fight you had left you in that moment and you let your hands fall limply on your sides. Haechan also loosened his grip on you and you stared at the two boys blankly, your chest heaving as if fighting for air. They didn’t move from their spots and simply followed you with their eyes as if relishing the fear and realization flashing in your face.

Trapped.

You’re trapped.

You’ve always been.

You didn’t even realize that your legs had started moving again on their own as the pieces of the puzzle started to fall together in your mind. You were only shaken from it when your back finally hit the front door, the cold metal of the knob pressing against your spine. Jaemin and Haechan remained on their spots still, even as you blindly reached out for it from behind.

You were expecting it to be locked, so you were a little bit surprised when you felt it give way under your hand when you tried to turn it open. Just before you could even entertain the idea of escaping, however, any trace of hope you had quickly died as you turned and came face to face with Jeno standing right in front of the entrance. He didn’t look the least surprised seeing you there, as if he was waiting for you in the first place.

You eyes took in his calm countenance before slowly moving to stare downwards at what he was holding by his side. Your gaze locked on it in fear, and that’s when the flight response in you flared up again.

Jeno’s hunting rifle shone dully in the light of the entryway, his pale fingers wrapped on its handle.

“There’s really only one place you can run, noona, but I won’t advise it,” he said evenly and you felt your blood freeze in your veins.

“After all, no matter where you hide, I’ll still find you in that forest.”

It happened all at once. You broke into a run, your body screaming at you to go faster as you heard gunshots pierce the air.

---

CHAPTER 7

A/N: Good lord, I wasn’t expecting I’d finish this today but I got one large iced coffee and well... things happened. Anyway, enjoy! Let’s hope the format won’t mess up this time. T.T Finally, all hell broke loose~ <3

Tag list! 

@negincho, @jhornytrash, @jaeminhyuckiii, @jungwoosswhore​, @jsturkey, @aj-7, @pukupukupawpau, @tomiesgirlfren, @vsszn, @those-winternights, @xsnelly, @lihyuck, @laheyspizza, @miyeux27, @haoshitt, @mindofthescattered, @huangberryyy, @d1nne, @choppedupcactus, @neokat​, @yutasnabi​

[justanapplenothinghere]

“Gears of War “Epic Mickey Au

ATTENTION:THIS AU CONTAINS CARTOON VIOLENCE,PAINT BLOOD, SWEARS AND LOT OF ANGST. IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE WITH ANY OF THESE TOPICS I SUGGEST THAT YOU DON’T READ ABOUT THIS AU.

We also do need a LOT of SUPPORT for this AU to actually work but you don’t have to if you don’t want to. Any fan-art, theories ,skits, jokes about this au are allowed. If you want us to notice it then please use the new hashtag we created so we can see it: #Gears of war Epic Mickey au or #GOW. Any support on this will be appreciated thank you.

The characters do NOT BELONG TO ME They belong to their rightful owners. No stealing my friend’s art which they worked so hard for: @packsawaythesnacks.

The only drawing that Belongs to me is Oswald and Mickey’s full body design.

“This takes place after the Blot.All goes well until The animatronics got hacked in with a Special sort of chip, it is unknown who could’ve done this but it’s up to Oswald and Mickey (plus the squad) to save the day once again”

Play list for my au all the songs chosen below for a reason i will be telling the events during the story and as to how it’s linked to theses songs:

The play list: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6ZjCFgJ3PndDWfSc871nGm

 Then mickey- similar design to ozzy but he virtually has no bandages and just covered in bruises his right eye also kinda melted but not bc of stress unlike ozzy he got it during in one of the battles..

Oswald- poor ozzy has one of his ears slightly teared but with a few bandages and his right eye got like a bandage on it, his paint is slightly dripping out of it due to the amount of stress he's put in.

The warners are they are separated from Oswald, Basically yes trying to survive but, THEY FREAKING BEAT ROBOTS ASS’S-) (not mickeys friends tho-)

Two birds on a wire is just about Mickey and Oswald’s brother like relationships.

“Evelyn” is when i imagine Oswald and Mickey arguing about how Oswald wants to fix the robot by obvi hurting the robots first, while Mickey wants to try and convince the robots that he knows they're still in there. At the end of the Evelyn Oswald in full on Anger slaps Mickey (bc how angry he was at Mickey's dumb idea.

Which is why in Evelyn's lyrics there's a line that goes "Please get away from me please just stop touching me" and that's ozzy after he slaps Mickey while Mickey although scared of him tries to comfort him.

“In cigarette duet” Is again Mickey and Oswald, Basically Mickey starts to smoke bc he finds it relives his pain for everything that he's done to Ozzy and the others (The blot accident). Oswald talks Mickey out of by saying that doing this won’t help undo what has been done.Mickey at the end listens and Oswald apologizes for causing harm to his own brother. 

“Rhinestone eyes” is Them exploring the Os town / the other buildings looking for Yakko and any scraps of metal that Ozzy could use but then they get ambushed by the robots while Mickey hesitates but he fends off the robots. Which is why the line in the lyrics is :"nature's corrupted in factories far away" and "here we go again " is Oswald talking about the fact that they have to fight these robots for like the 100th-

“Oh Klahoma” - describes Ozzy's Backstory angst which we all know what it is and the line at the end "I might die " He doesn't mean like Literally he means like he's been forgotten by virtually everybody he fears that one day everybody even his own kids will forget who he is-

“rat” is just him describing Walt, how he looked up to him but He feels Naïve bc how Walt used Oswald-.

“Still life” Is about how Ozzy left the Safe place where everybody is at , he goes back to the statue where Walt and Him, he kinda Speaks To walt about his problems and how he REALLY MISSES Ortensia and Wonders if world would be a better place without him, the line "I'll walk into the landscape and don't come back" Means literally leaving after everything goes back to normal-)

“My time” is about Oswald having a nightmare legit of him losing everybody he dearly loves (including Mickey they brothers) which why there's a line "Close eyes your eyes and you'll leave this dream" and he's just traumatized over all -

“Suicide year” is about how Ozzy and the others prepare for the attack

“Pretty Cvnt”, is about that Mickey gets hurt right and Oswald Sees him getting hurt and legit he goes sicko mode on fighting the robots while having a mental breakdown as well you'll here some "H A HA H A" I s just what he remembers of the Public LAUGHTING AT HIM not him which makes him very triggered-

“U.” is about he love relationship about Oswald and Ortensia how ofc they love each other but his heart pains bc he loves Ortensia so much and couldn't bare her Getting hurt or worse, As well that they sometimes argue but they make up at the end no matter what and will always love each other-

“Baby hotline” is about Ozzy trying to actually repair the single station to at least know where the hell Ortensia got taken, but again Oswald Doubts himself saying that he doesn't thinks she's fine that she's hurt BC HE WASn't THERE FOR HER.

"I can't handle change" is about everybody the fact they changed A LOT since this accident. That it was hard to adapt to this. That they'll forever won't see the world the same way again.

"In my heart" is about how once again everybody trying to find out where Ortensia is as well as the person who is responsible for this problem-

"Everyday" Is about how Oswald tries to find at least some normality in this and stay positive but bc of His trauma it holds him back as well as many other thoughts of his. It's like he wants to forget about all those terrible things that happened but it holds his back metaphorically from doing so.

“Coffee" Is about Oswald wanting to know if he really needs all this fame, he questions it in doubt in his own head while in the Tower the Mastermind who caused this Problems and The mastermind trys to turn Oswald onto His side telling him that HE can have all the fame he wants and love if Oswald joins him which ofc Oswald declines .

“Memory”, just a cute little song for flashbacks i thought <3 and again comforting.

Devil town is my fav song, It's about Oswald trying to comfort Mickey and apologize for hurting him Physically and Mentally they both in the end forgive each other and start over.

This is home" Is about they eventually find Ortensia in the huge tower, and Oswald rushes in trying to rescue her and he succeeds ofc. There's a line where "And I'll figure out how to get us out of here". It also describes him being worried what Ortensia will think of him bc he's changed a lot since she got kidnapped. "Get a load of this monster, he doesn't know how to communicate" This bit is about how the public thought of him before where some people loved him and some HATED him so much and sometimes even hurt him but Luckily Walt would Protect Oswald from getting hurt bc of ppl.

"Hey kids" Is about how happy everybody in OStown being happy and Oswald being happy as hell before the robots being hacked and sabotaged-))

" Goodnight" is about how this au ends with a happy ending, where Oswald fixes everything but ofc he can't forget his scars and everybody else who suffered with scars -))

Anyways yakko was using mickeys stragedy, tried to convince one of the robots they were themselves, they never did it again after what happened to yakko. Ever sense then they were just destroying them, (not daisy donald or goofy-)

They would take one oswald jr, the others would be with ortensia-Oswald jr #236 would be female- Oddete is 8 years old, she is sassy and kind hearted and gets pissed easily, she got bitten by a robot and her leg got impaled-

[critrolesideblog]

Evening falls in the Pearlbow Wilderness with the last of the autumn leaves. A bitter wind heralds the coming of winter as it rattles its way through the skeletal trees, and the veil of gray that has been pulled across the sky all day awaits its cue to blanket the world beneath with snow. So, when a golden-amber light shines briefly in the wilderness, halfway between Erdeloch and Kaltenloch, there is no mistaking it for dying sunlight, which has not been seen by these tree trunks for some time, and it is little surprise at all, when a man with hair the color of a hearthfire appears out of the light with the soft crunch and thump of sturdy boots meeting forest floor.

The man looks north briefly, and then turns in a slow, clockwise circle, his azure eyes, bruised from lack of sleep, searching for any sign of his quarry. He hears the familiar, chittering call of an elf owl, and watches it take to the sky in a flutter of feathers and rustle of tree branches. A smile pulls on one side of his lips, and he hopes the bird is a good omen as he turns the slow circle again, but he finds only trees, trees, and more trees. The wind, delighted to have a new orange toy at its disposal, tugs excitedly at his hair. "Go where the wind blows, I suppose," he says with a sigh, and the leaves on the ground agree quietly that it is really the only sensible way to be getting along.

As he sets off west-northwest, he reaches into one of his coat's many pockets to touch the trinket housed there. It is a small thing, barely larger than a gold coin. He stole it over a year prior from a place far east of here. He turns it over in his pocket four times, before methodically tracing the design on its face with his thumb, a new habit he has picked up in recent weeks as he has searched for the woman it reminds him of.

Night arrives quickly in the autumnal wilderness, and cold quickly follows suit. Luckily, the man knows a thing or two about light and heat. He produces a flame in his unpocketed hand as quickly and easily as most people breathe. Most trees would be perturbed at the sudden appearance of fire in their midst, but the trees of this forest are old and delight in the man's bright magic. You are so close, they whisper as the wind glides across their branches. She is just there. The snow, sensing its cue, begins to fall then, kissing the man on the top of his head, shoulders, and cheeks, melting against his skin like a lover. Come, come, the flurries beckon. You are very close. He does not hear them, but he feels a renewed determination, or perhaps stubbornness, as he sets his shoulders and forges ahead.

It is the light he notices first. He extinguishes the flame in his hand, thinking it a possible trick of eye, but no, he can definitely glimpse a glimmer of light up ahead. He notices the trees next, the way they have created a path for him, their branches curling elegantly overhead like living archways. Finally, pace quickening, he catches the scent of woodsmoke and food on the air. As he gets closer, the glimmer coalesces into a series of arcane lights, like too-still fireflies, leading a path up to the door of a home, now visible in the clearing, and wreathing it in gold. He feels a pang of nostalgia as he is reminded of a tree, far away, glowing with daylight in a city of eternal night.

He blames this rush of sentimentality for his lack of caution as he steps through the final archway. He does not sense the arcane wire until he has already tripped it. He hisses in pain, flinching backward, as bright, white light sears his retinas. Old habit brings his hands instinctively level with his face, palms outward, a position of readiness disguised as surrender. He hears what can only be the door ahead opening with a groan, and a woman's voice calls out from the light, full-throated and wary.

"Who's there?"

"My name is Caleb, Caleb Widogast." He replies, trying his best to keep his voice level and calm, despite his mounting discomfort at the fact that he cannot see. "I mean you no harm. I am looking for someone. I believe her name is Torvi. I met her once, some years ago, and I wish to speak with her, if I may." He pauses to allow a reply, but all he hears is the wind in the branches and the faint crackle of a fire. He can feel his pulse thumping nervously in his throat. He ventures to speak again. "I," he pauses, considering how direct he should be. "I met her in-- in a place called--"

"I know what the place is called." The woman's voice is not soft exactly, but it is no longer quite so sharp. The lights dim back to their firefly glow. "You are not the first person from Vergessen to find their way here." He thinks it might be sadness he hears in her voice and ventures to open his eyes slowly.

As the black splotches on his vision reduce, the woman comes slowly into focus. He notices first the book in a sling on her hip, dark leather stark against the golden yellow of her dress. Next, the dishcloth in her hands, giving the impression of being caught in the middle of a chore and undoubtedly hiding any number of spell components. It is not Torvi. Torvi's face is the first clear memory he has after ... after. He thinks he sees a resemblance, in the shape of her eyes, the sweet-apple roundness of her cheekbones, the broad curve of her nose, the pointed slope of her ears. Her jaw is different, though, more square, her shoulders more broad, her stature just a bit too tall. "May I ask who you are?"

"I'm Maeve, Torvi's sister." She beckons him with a tilt of her head. "Come on in."

Caleb approaches with greater caution this time, as Maeve steps back, opening the door further. He casts Detect Magic with a practiced twist of his hand and spots no further traps on the path ahead of him -- at least, none that are currently activated. There are, however, a dozen different wards that he can see around the perimeter of the clearing and a dozen more traps besides. It is some of the most intricately woven Abjuration magic he has had the pleasure of witnessing, and he regrets, for just an instant before he steps through the doorway, that he does not have time right now to investigate it further.

His beleaguered eyes adjust to the candle and firelight of the interior to take in a simple but well-appointed home. There are cabinets and a large work bench along the far wall. Herbs of all varieties hang from the rafters. There is a bookcase filled to bursting with books of all sizes, some of which glow with magic. There is a large dining table, crowned with a steaming cauldron of stew, and there, in a chair by the hearthfire, is Torvi. She has a blanket pulled around her, and she is leaning against one side of the armchair, her arm curled beneath her chin as a pillow, gazing into the hearthfire, seemingly lost in thought, or perhaps, just lost. She gives no indication that she has noticed him enter.

He has had weeks to get used to the idea of her being alive and not dead, as he had assumed her to be from the moment Ikithon took posession of her holy symbol all those years ago, but no amount of mental preparation could have prepared him for the experience of seeing her there exactly as he remembered her.

"This will hurt." The first words to cut through the clouds in a decade, as the heart-shaped face of a half-Elven woman, with dark-brown skin and sunlight-on-honey eyes, comes into focus, her warm hands caressing his face. "Like saltwater on a wound, it is necessary. There is so much you may yet do." Her expression shifts, then, from an apologetic smile to slack-jawed awe. Her eyes are bright as they rove across his face. "I see the face of Corellon in you."

Now that he is within the warmth of the home, Caleb cannot attribute the tingling numbness in his face and hands to the cold. His heart pounds against his ribcage, as desperate to escape as he suddenly is, but he manages to draw in a deep, shaky breath. Breathe, he reminds himself. He  grips the charm in his pocket with all his strength, such as it is, and takes a deep breath again. Eins, swei, drei... It takes him a moment to realize that Maeve is looking at him expectantly. "Sorry?" He croaks.

"I said, if you want to speak with her, you'll have to wait, but if you're not in a hurry, she'll come around soon enough."

"Ah, ja, I can wait." He picks a point on Maeve's cheek, just below her eyes, to fix his gaze upon. Stay on task, Widogast. "I had hoped to speak with you as well. Perhaps, we can do that first." One of her eyebrows quirks upward.

"Alright," she says, after a moment. "We can do that over dinner. You can set your coat and things there" Though her words are phrased as suggestions, her voice rings with the authority of someone used to being listened to, as she motions to a coat rack by the door. Her eyes flick to his pocketed hand. There is still a wariness in the set of her shoulders, and the dishcloth still partly obscures one of her hands. Ah.

Caleb nods in acquiescence and acknowledgment, one paranoid arcanist to another, and removes the hand from his pocket slowly, palming the trinket as he does so. He turns away from her and divests himself of his scarf and coat, keeping the trinket in hand all the while. He keeps his eyes on the wood floor, the cob wall, the curling leaf design of the wooden coat hooks. When he turns back, Maeve has set three places at the dining table. "Ah, none for me, please," he says, waving a staying hand as he crosses to the table. She pauses, ladle suspended in midair, and her eyes pass over his thin form, even thinner now that he no longer has his coat, in frank, skeptical appraisal. Judging by the unimpressed look on her face, she finds him wanting.

"We feed our guests around here," she says, in the same authoritative tone, and ladles soup into each of the three bowls. Caleb's lips form a thin line, briefly, the only outward indication of his inward prickling at this insistence, but he quickly clears the frown from his face. He wants her amenable to his request, and if he has to eat a little, in spite of the knotted nerves residing where his stomach should be, so be it. He notices that his bowl, at least, is more broth than vegetable as Maeve retrieves a large loaf of crusty bread from a cupboard, tears off a large piece for each of them, and settles into the seat across the table from him. "So," she says, before digging into her bowl. "What did you wish to speak to me about?"

Caleb takes a deep breath. "Are you familiar with a man by the name of Trent Ikithon?"

Maeve stills. Her eyes meet Caleb's, wary and discerning. "I know of him -- he is one of the members of the Cerberus Assembly -- but I have never met him."

"Count yourself lucky," Caleb says, forcing his face into a wry smile. He launches into a monologue he has rehearsed many times over the past few weeks, detailing some of the crimes of his former mentor, how Ikithon used Vergessen as a base of operations, the ordeal of his trial and imprisonment, the nigh certainty of the involvement of other Assembly members in Ikithon's crimes, and the painstaking, fruitless search to find anyone willing to testify against them. Maeve's eyes stay on him all the while as she takes in every word with a quiet, steadfast focus that reminds him of another wizard he knows. "So," he says at last, after pausing to eat a small bite of broth-soaked bread. "If there is any evidence you can offer, any testimony of anything you or your sister might have witnessed --"

"No."

Caleb blinks once, twice, three times. "No?"

"No," she repeats, softly. "I admire what you are doing, but we cannot help you."

"If you are afraid of reprisals, I can assure you--"

"I'm fairly certain you can assure nothing where the Assembly is involved," she says, with a cynical smile, "no matter how powerful you or your friends with the Cobalt Soul are. But, nevertheless, I have no evidence to offer. I witnessed nothing, aside from my sister's declining health, which is too circumstantial to be helpful, and any evidence she might offer would not stand up in court of law."

Caleb's shoulders and head curl forward as her words hit him like a blow to the chest. He hazards a glance at the woman by the fire, who has not moved over the course of their conversation. "Is she so unwell?"

". . . No." Maeve drags the word out into two syllables. "She is much better than she was, but..." She taps a quick staccato rhythm against the side of her bowl with her spoon, before gazing across the room at her sister. "Torvi was not insane before she went to Vergessen, only inconvenient. When she was a teenager, she began performing miracles and wonders around our village, and she was not shy about declaring their provenance. She was always blessing people that they may 'walk in Corellon's beauty' or 'may the light of the Archeart guide them.'" Caleb's heart sinks as he guesses where this story is going. Maeve shrugs, her gaze dropping back to her bowl. "We got fined every time the Reapers came to town. The villagers didn't care, so long as their kid was healed or their shop brought in coin -- a blessing was a blessing. But she didn't stop there. She also went after the priest to the All-Hammer that kept the shrine in our village. She said he worshiped the Empire, not the Gods."

"I bet that made her a lot of friends in high places."

Maeve gives a snort of humorless laughter at this, her cynical smile returning. "No kidding. My parents made a deal with the lawmaster: instead of sending her to jail, they agreed that her worship of "false gods"--" she made quotation marks in the air with her fingers "-- was a sign of her obvious madness, and sent her to Vergessen instead." She pushes her soup around the bowl with her spoon. "They thought they were doing her a kindness. But, regardless," her eyes flash up to catch his, hard with grim certainty. "Even if she was completely well, I think we both know the word of a convicted heretic and idolator is worth very little in the eyes of the law."

Caleb rubs his tired eyes with a sigh, as his left hand worries at the charm. He has so much work yet to do. Da'leth, Margolin, Tversky -- they were all too close to the Volstrucker program not to have been involved. They had to be removed from power for any real change to take place, and his search for concrete evidence and testimony had been so fruitless. When he had found record of Torvi's discharge from Vergessen, it ... it had felt like a sign, he admits to himself, cringing a little at the irrationality of it. A sign that perhaps he was on the verge of a breakthrough. He unfurls his hand to reveal the trinket: a small disc of silver engraved with two moons backed by a four-pointed star.

Maeve, glimpsing the symbol, tilts her head curiously. "Are you a devotee of Corellon?"

The idea that someone could mistake him for a devotee of any god is strange enough to make him fumble the charm as he turns it over again in his hand. "Ah, I cannot say so, no. I have never been much for religion."

Maeve's gestures with her chin toward the book holstered at his side. "Why bother with the fickle will of Gods when us mortals can achieve so much on our own?" It is not really a question. There is a book on her own hip after all.

Caleb nods. "That is part of it." He turns the charm over in his hand again, and a memory rises to the surface of his mind: the soft, rhythmic clack-clack of wooden prayer beads as they sift through his mother's clever fingers. She kneels before the shrine of Pelor, eyes closed, the dawn light shining off her burnished copper hair, prayers whispering earnestly through her lips. Much good that it did her. "For a long time, it seemed to me the supposed benevolence of the gods was nothing but a cruel joke." Bless my son that he may live always in Your light. "My view is a bit softer now, but ..." Bless our Empire that we may bring light to the dark corners of the world.

Maeve nods. Her eyes gleam with a cold anger. "I rage at that one, sometimes," she says, her eyes darting toward the moonlit star in his hand. "And argue -- one-sided." A wry smile twists her lips.

The sudden scrape of metal on metal makes both of their heads turn at once toward the front window. It opens with a creak and in hops a tiny elf owl.

Maeve rises and crosses quickly to the window. "You've been eavesdropping, haven't you?" She asks, as she closes the window with a sharp snap. "It's very rude to keep your guest waiting." The owl's head swivels to gaze at Caleb, and he recognizes immediately the familiar glow of Fey magic in the bird's eyes. With another little hop, it takes flight from the window sill and lands on the table a foot from him. There is a long moment of silence as the bird looks him over, this way and that, and -- pip, pip, pip-- hops a little closer, faerie fire still burning its eyes.

Caleb remembers well the safe, comforting distance of viewing the world through a familiar's eyes. "I had a little owl like you once," he says, softly. A smile tugs at his lips as he remembers Frumpkin perched on Beau's shoulder, his tiny feathers ruffled by the ocean breeze. "Well, he was a cat really, but he was an owl for a little while."

"She is a bigger owl really," says the first voice he remembers from Vergessen. "But she is small for right now."

Caleb takes a deep breath. Eins, swei, drei... He forces himself to tear his eyes from the safe visage of the little bird and face her. She is not quite looking at him, but she is facing his direction now. He can see clearly now that the light reflected in her upturned eyes is not fire but Fey. "Do-- do you remember me, Schwester?"

"Of course, I do," she says, voice soft and warm.

Caleb rubs his thumb over the design on the charm one last time. "I brought this for you," he says, holding it out for the owl to inspect. "To replace the one that was taken." The owl bobs its head this way and that in a circular motion, and then snaps up the trinket so quickly that Caleb barely has time to worry for his fingers before the bird is midair again. She lands on the back of the chair, dropping the charm onto Torvi's waiting palm. Her hand closes around it, and as it does, the light in her eyes grows and brightens until they shine like twin stars from her face. They are bright enough that Caleb is not able to look at her long without needing to avert his weary eyes. It is not unlike the ways he has seen Jester and Caduceus' magic manifest at times, and he wonders what visions her deity is granting her, as Maeve resumes her seat across from him.

The room is quiet for a long while, save for the crackle of the hearthfire and the occasional scrape of Maeve's spoon against her bowl. The tiny owl is beginning to doze on the back of the chair, when the light disappears from Torvi's eyes with a blink, and she looks down at the trinket with her own eyes for the first time. "Beautiful," she whispers, as errant tears spill down her cheeks.

"Schwester..." It feels cruel to ask, another sin to add to the pile, but she is here now. Really here, and he has traveled all this way. He has to ask. "Schwester, is there anything you remember about your time at Vergessen, any evidence you can offer, any direction you can point me in, to help me bring down those who used that place for evil?"

Still gazing at the talisman, she tilts her head in a way that reminds Caleb of a curious bird and seems to consider his question for a moment. "You were the first one I restored in that place," she says at last. "Half mad and half cursed, so young and so full of Corellon's beauty and magic." The ghost of a smile curls around her lips as she rubs her thumb over the design on the charm in much the same way Caleb had a moment before. "And now you have done so many beautiful and important things." And ugly and terrible things, Caleb thinks wryly. The scales are not yet balanced.

"I just need to do a little more, Schwester." A phantom, stinging itch starts up in his forearms, and his fingers worry against each other for lack of the charm to turn between them.

Torvi's eyes meet his without warning, and he is caught like a startled creature in the sudden glimpse of sunlight.

"Fuck, if I ever have to sit in a courtroom again, it'll be too fuckin' soon," Beau says, stretching in the dim lamplight outside the tavern. He makes a noise of agreement, and she glances at him. "Y'know, Yasha's got some unfinished business in Xhorhas. We've been talking about taking off for a few weeks, few months maybe, to go back to her old stomping grounds..." She looks at Caleb sidelong, and he can read the concern in the slight shift in the pitch of her voice, the rising of her shoulders, the tilt of her head, though she plays it off well. He knows he looks like shit. It turned out listening to weeks of testimony against his abuser was not a great aid to his already-fitful sleep.

"Gut." He says, and he means it. "It will be good for her to get some closure. She deserves it, and you both deserve some time to yourselves." He offers her a smile he hopes is reassuring.

She nods, and between one breath and the next, her arms are around him. He allows himself to lean into her vice-like grip, hugging her back as hard as he can. "Take it easy, while we're gone, alright, man? We'll kick some more Assembly ass when we get back." She releases him at last and gives him a pat on the cheek. "Get some rest, man. You deserve it."

Caleb feels the heavy weight of his allotment of Trent Ikithon's platinum and gold in his coat pocket and knows that he does not. "Ja," he says. "I will. There's just a little more to do."

"And then what?" The question snaps Caleb's attention back to the present. Torvi is peering at him, her eyes seeming to search in his for an answer. "A little more, and then what? After you find this evidence you need, will it be a little more still, or will you rest?"

If he found evidence against Da'leth and the others, there would be more trials. The web would unravel further still, and he would have new threads to follow. Not to mention, the problem of the ex-Volstrucker scattered to the winds. "Well, you know what they say," he says with a sardonic grin. "There is no rest for the wicked." Torvi does not return his grin.

"You are not wicked." She says this with such certainty that it sparks a small flame of anger in his chest.

"How do you know?" He asks, more than a little petulantly.

"I know." And there is something in the compassionate depths of her sunlit eyes that makes Caleb think, inexplicably, that she does know. She knows what transpired before Vergessen and since. The flame in his chest is quenched thoroughly. He tears his gaze from hers at last, eins, swei, drei... "Alas," she continues, once his breathing has evened out again. "My memories from Vergessen are... muddled." She concludes quietly. "But if I think of anything helpful, I can contact you." He nods, his eyes on the floorboards, as disappointment washes over him.

"I suppose I'll be on my way then." He says, quietly, and rises from his seat. Maeve rises with him.

"I'd like a favor from you before you go," says Torvi, as he turns from the table. He looks up, in surprise.

"Name it."

"I'd like you to hold onto this for me," she says, holding the talisman out with a smile. "I'm always losing mine."

"It's true," mutters Maeve. "I'm always finding them in strange places."

"This one means a lot to me," Torvi says. "I don't want to lose it." She holds the charm out toward him insistently. "Keep it safe for me."

Maeve looks at him sidelong and sighs. "If you don't, she'll just find some way of sneaking it into your pocket as you leave."

"It's true," Torvi agrees, and there is mischief twinkling amidst the warm affection in her eyes, a particular mix that reminds him strongly of Jester. He crosses to her to take the trinket back, and as he does so, her fingers catch his. He feels a familiar warmth settle over him. "May you walk in Corellon's beauty, Bruder." When Maeve had said the words earlier, they had sounded trite to Caleb's ears, but Torvi's benediction was infused with such sincerity.

Caleb bends forward slightly, brushing his lips against her knuckles. "Danke, Schwester." She smiles at him warmly, as he releases her grasp and pockets the trinket.

Maeve opens the door for him as he hastily dons his scarf and coat and steps out into the frigid air. To Caleb's surprise, she follows him out onto the step, closing the door behind her. The clearing is now covered in a thin layer of snow, and their breaths create little puffs of fog in the dim glow of the arcane lights. Maeve leans out past the eave of the house for a moment to look up at the sky, but the stars are veiled with clouds. She frowns and straightens, crossing her arms. "Can I give you a little advice?" She asks, her voice pitched low, eyes following the meandering descent of a snowflake.

Caleb watches the snowflake, also, watches it spiral and drift, until it is lost in a sea of shadow. He is not sure he wants advice. He wants evidence, a direction to go in. He has lost his only lead, and now, he is back at square one.

"When I'm stuck on a spell," Maeve continues. "I find the best thing to do is take a break. Then, when I'm doing laundry or gardening or whatever, the solution will come to me." She reaches out a hand past the eave to catch some of the falling snow. "Even the Wildmother can't bloom all the time." A strong gust of wind swirls around them then, trying its best to push Caleb northward. Caleb adjusts his scarf and coat to stop its icy fingers from trailing down his neck, and Maeve shrugs. "Take it or leave it."

"Thank you," Caleb says with a nod. Maeve nods back and turns to re-enter the house, closing the door behind her with a soft thud.

Caleb steps off of the porch, re-casting detect magic with a twist of his hand. He wants to be well clear of the Abjuration magic before he attempts to teleport. The snow crunches under his boots as he makes his way down the row of lights, and the wind whistles in the tree branches and tries, once again, to tug him northward, pulling at his hair this time, loosening it from its tie.

The sharp, clean smell of the fresh snow reminds Caleb of Eiselcross... of Essek. The thought of reuniting with Essek had been a light at the end of the tunnel, during Ikithon's trial. He had even spent time crafting his own Sending spell, so he could contact Essek once the trial was over. When the day came, it had felt too selfish to use it. There was still so much to do.

And Essek isn't the only thing awaiting him in Eiselcross. In the underworld of Aeor lies a crucible, a final test of his tentative, hard-won, untrustworthy goodness.

Caleb walks much further than he needs to. The snowflakes try to kiss his worries away. When this doesn't work, they stop falling, leaving only the wind carding its fingers through his hair with alternating sweetness and frustration. It whistles some more to catch his attention, but he is too lost in his spiraling thoughts to hear it.

He does hear another noise, though, or thinks he does. He cannot find the little owl when he looks up to the tree branches, but he does see a star. A single star, bright enough to shine through a thinning in the veil, twinkling, safe and familiar...

Caleb swears under his breath and yanks a copper wire out of his pocket, before he can think better of it. He shapes it much like he has seen Jester do numerous times and takes a deep breath. He visualizes Essek, his lilac eyes, his high cheekbones, the iridescent freckles dusted across his twilight skin, the elegant curve of his jaw, the small dimples that appear on his cheeks when he smiles, really smiles, and speaks the magic word. "Hallo, Freund, I--" It occurs to him suddenly that, although it is a very reasonable 6:13 in the evening in this part of the Pearlbow Wilderness, it is much deeper into the night at Vurmas Outpost. "I apologize I didn't think of the time. I hope I'm not disturbing you." Nine words left. "Thinking I'll travel to you soon... to exchange theories?" The words leave his lips with the ghost of a smile, and he thinks he hears a smile in Essek's voice as well, when he responds:

"Caleb Widogast, it is good to hear your voice no matter the time of night. I can think of nothing else I would rather do."

.

.

.

Notes: I rather extended the limits of Read Object and Read Mind from the Knowledge Domain descriptions, because.

[gxllxghercest]

Okay dokey here we go, first of all thank you for your fic recommendations!! They are all so very good! This fandom really has some highly talented writers, thank you for making me explore some other works besides my usual filters.

And! I want to suggest maybe and idea, see if you like it and wanna comment on it,(God I feel really guilty for this, ahh sorry!!) I've been thinking about Noel stumbling upon fem!boy content and wishing he could've done something like that with Liam in the 90's, like everyone is always going on how beautiful Liam is and of course he agrees and he's like fantasizing about it and I have a whole little fic idea but I feel a bit... embarrassed! So wanna know if u like the idea 😊.

Thank you for your patience with me, I know I let this ask sit for quite a while ❤️ and I'm so glad you like my fic recs but I can't take credit, it's the amazing work of the authors that are what really matter I simply pass along what I love. I'm glad you're reading things outside of your comfort zone, honestly since it's gallaghercest I guess this is the place to do it haha

And omg no please don't feel guilty I literally love hearing people's ideas I wish people would send me more because I'm less of a writer and more if a conceptualist anyway.

And YES I'M SO FOR THIS, I don't know if you've been listening to any of his stuff with Matt morgan recently but with all the talk of knebworth, he's been really nostalgic for mid-90s Liam, he talks about him with such admiration and tenderness it makes me kind if sad tbh.

And this might be a bit of a deviation from the original idea but when I read your ask all I could think about is a fic from Noel's perspective where the entire thing is him jerking off to the thought of femboy Liam. But you know how when you try to jerk off without porn, and you just leave things up to your thoughts the fantasies are never really concrete; your thoughts jump around, skip parts, replay parts, fix the plot, stitch bits together that shouldn't be possible? I'd love for Noel's thoughts to be so frantic and horny that he can't figure out what he'd do to the kid, just knows that he fucking needs him NOW.

His old man brain is telling him that he'd fuck him slow, savour the time he has with this precious relic of the 90s. He'd make Liam speak the whole time just to hear that voice again, hear the way it's so much higher than it is now, breathy and caught up in his throat as he rasps anything and everything that comes to mind because Noel's brain wills him to, "fuck me, fuck my cunt c'mon noel please, faster I can t- ake it fuck fuck ah," and noel would kiss the stray tears that leak out of his eyes from being left hard too long even though there would probably be some makeup sediments in them. He'd make Liam cum all over his panties, and Noel would lick it up off the silky material. But their are pieces of his brain that are hard wired to not treat Liam like this, because there was a time where his two favorite hobbies were making women cry and making Liam cry. That part of Noel's brain keeps leaving flashes in his mind of smeared lipstick against his cock and the slap of his own ringed hand against Liam's clean shaven face. Amidst the visions of fucking Liam slow and gentle there's a dark version of his own voice telling Liam to "cum again," even if he's already overstimulated as fuck, " come on one more fucking time, if you're gonna dress like a bird you might as well fucking cum like one," and suddenly the single stray tear he kissed away has become a stream of mascara as Liam writhes underneath him with an over stimulated cock and round after round of his own cum pooling across his stomach. He'd be violent too probably, leaving bruises all over Liam's pretty skin, biting at his shoulder, you know how it goes.

I'm not a good enough writer to somehow weave those two images together so seamlessly into a single jerk off sesh fic, but it's a nice thought I suppose, that something like that could exist

[dimeadoesnt]

New fic is up!

I’ve been sitting on this one a while, but the first chapter is up here and on AO3!

Rating: teen and up

Warning: (semi)graphic depictions of violence

Word count: 4,418

Lone wolf

Summary: A brief hunting trip leads to more trouble than anyone could have anticipated after sniper is left with an unnatural bite, from an unnatural source.Not that anyone should be surprised, this is hardly the strangest thing to happen to happen to them

Ch. 1: predator and prey

Despite the growing warmth of spring, Romania’s winter clung stubbornly to all that would allow it. The winds still nipped at exposed skin, the ground was still firm throughout valleys and glades, and despite the burning of circuitry and searing bullet-holes, what was once the shells of robots turned icy in a matter of minutes. In all it had taken a little less than a day for four of Mann Co.‘s mercenaries to rid the world of them, if for no other reason than they stood in the way of gathering intelligence. It wasn’t as if they had a choice in the matter, programming was unquestioned, undoubted, and undisturbed in its complicity of ‘shoot what moves.’ Granted, that hardly seemed important when they all ended up as scrap metal anyways.

At least those were the thoughts silently floating around Snipers mind as he sat atop one of the larger bots they’d done in, pulling against his bowstring to test the weight it could pull after a few adjustments.

He’d made up his mind that a hunt wouldn’t be a half-bad idea. Evening was falling on their little group now waiting for confirmation on their return plan, but with the nearby forests shadows stretching on to cast shade along the hidden base, grabbing a few provisions seemed the right choice. A deer if he was lucky, or a few rabbits if they were not. Engineer would probably take what he was offered, scout ate almost anything put in front of him and spy... well spy could complain all he wanted, food was food and if he wanted something better he could find it himself.

The sharpshooter mulled over how much gear he would actually need, giving pause as he decided packing light would prove effective, the less he had weighing him down the better. He gave pause to his thoughts however, as his attention was pulled from them to the slight shift of weight behind him.

“What dyou want, mongrel?” He asked, going back to examining his gear by smoothing out the fletching between his fingers.

“How’d you know I was behind you?” Scout asked, rounding out from behind the automatons husk with an aggrieved glare. “I was quiet as hell, like a literal mouse couldn’t do any better.”

“Owls hear mice all the time, consider it a predator vs prey thing.”

“You callin me prey?”

“I’m callin you easy to catch. Now what dyou want? I’m about to head out.”

“Oh for real?” Scout asked, any hint of annoyance quickly melting away in favor of a thinly veiled excitement. “That’s actually what I was gonna ask about! So I know you go survivor mode sometimes, decide ya wanna rough it for a while somewhere not here- well not *here* exactly, but wherever we are, and head out to wherever you go when you do this. No clue where that is, considering we’re usually in the middle of nowhere, but I gotta assume you found someplace half decent. Anyways, not the point- what I’m gettin at is: you like to hunt, right?”

Sniper gave a quick nod, used to the younger man taking detours in his road of thought by now.

“Right! So you know all the ins and outs of it?” Another nod. “Awesome! So let’s say, hypothetically, that if someone asked, you would show them how to hunt.”

From the outside it seemed the suggestion hadn’t phased the huntsman, half his face obscured by shades and the wide-brimmed hat, though beneath the shade his eyes squinted as he stared scout down, brows furrowed and suspicious.

“You want me to show you?” He asked, voice flat despite the surprise; an opening scout readily pounced on.

“Well since you’re offering I don’t see why not! Thanks, pal, knew you were a good guy. I’ll grab my stuff and meet ya in like, two minutes.”

Before any protest could be uttered, scout was gone. Perhaps rabbit would be on the menu- and a very loud one at that if nothing else could be caught.

The hike hadn’t been much of a problem. The distance between their enemy’s ex-outpost and the wilderness was nigh nonexistent as it bordered the edge where trees staggered into the valley. Instead the problems began to occur the further into the tree line they trekked. Shadows grew darker, and distant sounds of wildlife echoed to sound both much closer and much further away at the same time, at least to an untrained ear.

There were plenty of issues in bringing someone inexperienced along for a hunt, however the one scout seemed to have the most trouble with was the very idea of being quiet- a fact that would surprise nobody if they were to hear it. The runner trampled twigs and underbrush like he was trying to make a path, and he swatted at limbs and moss as if to knock them down entirely. The worst though was the fact that he did not know how to stop talking. Even when trying to be quiet the young man opted for a stage whisper instead of silence, asking every now and then how deep they would go, what exactly they were looking for, how soon it would be before he could bag something and bring it back. Sniper indulged in a few of the questions, though the deeper in, the less he spoke at all.

Another minute or so and the pair had come to a halt, looking between a small parting of grass, and a thinning of trees. A self-assured grin made itself at home on the marksmans face as he held a hand up, moving scout to settle in behind a tree before grappling the limbs of its neighbor until he was hidden among the lower branches, whispering for scout to watch closely. Unfortunately, scout himself seemed to have different plans.

“Watch?” He hissed. “What dyou mean watch? I’m takin down what I see.”

“No, you’re not.” Sniper said flatly. “There’s more to it than just taking the shot, if you make a mistake it’ll end badly for everyone.” There was no room for argument there, despite how scout very much wanted to. While the Australian was normally a surprisingly patient man, he was just as much so a creature of routine and practice.

Within a few seconds they had fallen completely silent, save for the occasional shift, or scout plucking at grass, occasionally glancing back towards their target range with mounting boredom. Snipers slow shifting ceased after only a few moments, falling into a comfortable, practiced stillness while his eyes never once left the clearings edges.

Time passed immeasurably after that. The only frame of reference coming from the last rays of sun being replaced by the pale light of moonbeams breaking through the treetops. The air was still in only the way a forest without wind could be, and unsteadily silent, waiting for a disturbance to startle from its light sleep. Finely tuned instinct whispered to wait, to watch, and to forget hesitance the moment opportunity struck.

Eventually the instinct proved itself valuable when the sound of rustling leaves echoed across the glade. It was faint and careful, but the sound was distinctly the cautious pacing of a creature. within a minute the sloping curve of a deers head was peering in between the trees, apparently assessing the landscape before slowly stepping further into the pass.

Sniper readied his bow, thumbing over one of his arrows ends as he knocked it to his wire.

Slow breaths.

Focus.

Don’t blink.

He drew the bow taut, one eye slipping closed to center the arrows tip between the wide eyes of the timid creature. A deep breath and all breathing stopped, fingers slipping from the wire to let the arrow fly. and had he loosed it properly the shot would have hit perfectly, painlessly, and efficiently. Unfortunately, a sudden crash and shout startled the entire wood out of its tense sleep, as birds flew their nest and both predator and prey startled. sniper snapped the arrow into a tree, and the deer ran off full tilt the way it had come. The hunter turned to check on where scout had been sitting earlier only to find the spot was empty, and with that sudden realization, knew full well where the disturbance had come from.

He dropped from the trees limb onto the ground, trying to pick up on where the sound had come from, cursing scouts name to hell and back while also praying there were no bears nearby; and if there were that scout wasn’t foolhardy enough to try and disturb one. Another, closer, shout sounded off from his right, and while Sniper might have otherwise been livid at the absolute disregard shown for their entire outing, he was more focused on the look of absolute terror his teammate wore.

“We gotta go!” Scout snapped, stopping just long enough to tug and Snipers arm, which was just as soon yanked back.

“What happened?!” The larger man asked, grabbing scout by the shoulder to get some kind of answer before acting.

Scout gave a broad sweep toward the way he had come from. “It- I don’t know! I don’t know, there was this- it had to be some kinda messed up animal. All I know is that it was real big, real angry, and fast as all hell, so we gotta **GO** he urged once more, taking a step backwards towards the way they’d left the outpost.

“You want to drag whatever it is back with us?” The marksman scolded, moving to press his back against one of the massive trees. “If it can see us it’ll follow us. What we need is distance or a distraction otherwise it’s-“ his voice halted as a new ‘crash’ shook the ground; much heavier, and much closer than any had been before. Scout seemed to be all too aware of what it was, reaching over to yank the kukri from Snipers hip in an apparent knee-jerk reaction.

Both were well aware of what a calm before the storm felt like, and this was no different. Everything stood as still as an image. Nightbirds didn’t let out a note, deer and rabbits sat still wherever they were, and the two men in the forest barely breathed against the fragile air that surrounded them.

And it was all broken in a second.

Without warning, an animalistic yowl shook the very earth and a hulking mass launched itself from the shadows, its weight slamming into snipers side like a bullet train. All at once the air was knocked from his lungs as predator and prey slammed into the trees base. There was only a second to get any bearings, but that second slowed to eternity at the sight of the attacker. In the light of the moon both men got an unhindered look at the terrible creature.

Thick hair black as pitch stood on end, back hunched forward on legs too long for comfort. A large maw curled back into a sinister, sharp snarl, its long fangs shooting out to gnash at its target. Worst of all though we’re those eyes. Pupils pierced through a wide ring of brown like daggers, while the rest was filled with white. Stark, pallid, bone white- visible in all directions around the pale brown irises.

An unsettling discomfort pierced Snipers chest when he looked into those eyes, getting the distinct feeling that they knew exactly what they were looking at, and that the mind behind them was smarter than its exterior. It knew that it was stronger than them. It knew that it was fast enough to catch any movement. And it knew it wanted these sharp little things in its forest gone.

The second ended, and the beast launched itself forward again with a growl so deep it rumbled in the base of the hunters chest. Reflexively he lifted his hands, catching the creatures face in a shaky grip, matted fur held tight between his fingers as he tugged it away. Snapping teeth shot forward, yanking one of the hands free from their grip, and on instinct the arm was brought up in front of snipers neck. A second of numbness followed, though a deep spattering of blood began dripping from the creatures maw to feed the roots of the tree.

Animal attacks were rarely something to brush off, but this one in particular stung in the way electricity might. It burned, seared, and scorched as the teeth buried so deeply into the arm that no sound could escape his chest, only the feeling of his jaw clenching hard enough that his teeth creaked. A flash of fear shoved its way into snipers mind, shouting that they didn’t have a doctor on hand. They didn’t even know if the teleported between America and Europe were running yet. What he did know was how long it took for an untreated wound to get infected. He did know how long it took for someone to bleed out.

Then suddenly the pressure was gone. The beasts jaw snapped open to let out a shrill cry, jumping to the side with a staggering limp. Fur began to dampen at its hip, and if the kukri now shining a slick red in scouts hand was any indicator, the wolf had forgotten it was a fight of two against one. A professional never missed an opening, and a hunter never misused his weapons. Sniper reached over his shoulder to his quiver to pull one of the thin rods forward.

An animals shriek echoed through the woods as the arrow found itself firmly lodged between two of the monsters ribs. Perhaps he shouldn’t have felt quite so satisfied when the monster shuffled further away, snapping down towards the thorn in its side, but the feeling of vindication was enough to get him moving.

“I told you!” Scout called, his first few paces back to base being backwards, still holding the knife outward at the wolf as it twisted and snapped at the pains between its chest and pelvis. As it turned out, panic and survival instinct proved very useful in weaving between trees and thickets, neither sparing a second to look back until the abandoned base was in view, and only stopped once the heavy sound of the doors slamming shut and locking echoed through the room.

The base was cold by now, but safe, and as the pair stood backs flush against the wall, breath coming in heavy, short bursts, the rush of the chase slowly wore off. visions of sharp teeth faded in favor of the bleak grey walls that surrounded them, and the chill of wind was replaced by the still coldness of a room not built for humans.

Scout was the first to come out of it properly, much to Snipers own surprise. His breathing was still shaky, but slowed to something resembling normal as a minute or so passed. He dropped the knife with a loud clatter and gave himself a quick pat down, apparently making sure everything was still there, and while he was relieved to see he was unharmed beyond bruises and scrapes, a glance at his companion revealed that the same could not be said in his case.

“Oh Jesus.” Scout muttered. looking down himself sniper had to agree that it was a fair assessment. The bite was deep, clearly showing torn muscle while thick rivers of blood lazily rolled down his arm and dropped to the floor. Sniper had seen enough viscera and gore in his life to remain unphased at gruesome maulings, but this felt different from any kind of mammals bite he’d gotten before. As feeling came back it reminded him more like the pierce of a vipers fangs, setting his nerves on edge with a feeling of hot pins and needles crawling up his arm and across his chest; the huntsman’s brain became addled and muddy, though if he had the chance to think logically he should have been more concerned about nerve damage and blood loss than any invasive thought of snakes. Seeing as how he wasn’t thinking logically though, he could only slide down the wall, landing with a heavy ‘thump’ against the concrete floor. Distantly he was aware that something was being said, though it was so indistinct he paid it no mind. He was tired, that was what mattered.Breathing grew shallow and slow, and the last image before darkness were those dark, terrible eyes staring back at him.

The first thing he was aware of was a loud rumbling from below. Eyes still closed, the distinct hum of an engine, and what must have been the rolling of gravel. Everything felt heavy, and even the slightest movements made his body ache in protest, only made all the more uncomfortable by the now familiar shifts and bumps of what could only be a car in motion. Sniper let out a low groan and ran a hand over his face, thankful for once that he didn’t have sunglasses blocking anything.

Across from him there was a loud ‘thud’, accompanied by an enthusiastic ‘oh thank god.’ coming from an all too familiar voice. He tried to blink away the burn in his eyes and sit up, though only managed to get himself propped up on his elbows. In that time scout had gotten up from where he’d been sitting and opened the window between the front seat and the cargo area of their truck

“Yo, sleepin’ beauty’s finally up” he called, earning a glare tossed back from the mentioned sleeper. Regardless, the response he got was genuine, and the relief in Engineers voice settled a slight tension in the hunters chest.

“well if that ain’t a relief I don’t know what is.” The southerners warm voice echoed back. “Hows he doin? Any problems we oughta stop for?”

“Uh, lemme check.” Scout responded, turning to speak directly at the prone marksman. “Hey, snipes, how ya feelin?”

“Like I want to turn your head into a fine pink mist and pass out again”

“He’s fine!” Scout cheered, getting a quiet laugh back, along with the sound of spy beginning to chide their engineer for worrying over nothing. Leaving them to bicker, scout took a few steps back in towards the center of the shipment container. Getting a look around there was actually very little inside, the largest item, save for a few gun cases, being a couple of boxes filled with ammo and scrap metal tied down along the walls. By the notches carved into the top of one of the medium ones, that had been where scout was waiting; though now it seemed the runner had decided it was more appropriate to sit at the gunmans side, jaw in hands as he gave sniper another once-over. Pushing himself to sit up properly sniper grimaced, finding his right side falter when put under pressure.

“Yeah, might not wanna stress that too much.” Scout commented, seeing how his teammate cringed at the slight movement. “Hard hat patched ya up as best as he could, but the docs gonna go ballistic once he sees what’cha got there. we still got some’a those tablets for pain if you wanna drop the tough guy act too. Speakin of: what the hell dude?!” Scout scolded, throwing his hands up. “why didn’t you tell anyone you’ve got a fainting problem like that? Scared the hell outta everyone” he asked, a tight frown carved firmly into the usually coltish face.

“I don’t.” Sniper huffed, adjusting to lean back against the wall as a dull throb began to knock at his head. “it was blood loss, if anything. Wouldn’t doubt if shock, and a concussion compounded it, at least if this headache means anything.” Not to mention how tired he still felt. He’d experienced all three plenty of times before, both separately and in combination, but this time in particular left him feeling exhausted in nearly every aspect. Scout seemed to mull over the answer, and after reaching into his pocket to pull out a small bottle with medics handwriting scrawled across the label, tried for a weak, but wide smile.

“You can say ya got scared, it’s ok.” He teased, dropping a few pills into snipers hand before dropping the bottle onto the sleeping bag the other was resting on. To his own surprise, sniper found a slight laugh bubble up, foggy and indistinct, but still present.

“Last I checked we were both scared out of our minds.” He huffed, taking the medicine dry. “But thank you for reminding me of that, I’ve actually got something to ask”

Scout perked up, inching a bit closer in interest.

“Yeah? Alright uh- ok what’s up?”

His answer came in the form of a firm punch to the shoulder, and a heavy glare.

“What in gods name is the matter with you?!” He exclaimed, feeling better as scout recoiled, holding the now bruising shoulder.

“Freakin hell, man, what in the shit was that for?!”

“Why’d you run off?” Was the quick response he got. Scout had the decency to look ashamed for at least a second before vibrato kicked back in and he puffed his chest, glaring sharply back.

“Well it wasn’t like anything was gonna happen any time soon! I was gone for what? A few minutes?”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“... fine! Fine. I heard somethin movin around and followed it. I didn’t know it was... well, yknow. *that*”

Sniper put his head in his hand, rolling slow circles into his temple.

“So you just... followed it. Without telling me. Scout you could’ve gotten hurt so much worse than this” he gestured to the arm hanging prone to his side.

“I didn’t though, did I?” Scout asked, to which sniper leveled him with an incredibly unamused face. “Fine, fine, I get it, ‘going into the woods alone is a bad idea.’ But you do it all the time, what makes you think I can’t handle it?”

“Because of that *thing* we ran into out there. If you’d been alone how would it have ended?”

Scout leaned further forward, taking his headset off to fiddle with the microphone.

“What was that thing anyways?” He asked, clearly unhappy at the images flashing through his mind as he elected to stare down at his headgear rather than sniper. With the argument momentarily stopped, the Aussie humored the thought, only to find that there really was no answer.

“Dunno.” He finally said, pulling his knees up to cross his arms over. “Looked like a giant wolf but it- it didn’t act like one. Usually wolves’re fairly scared of humans, they’ll turn tail more often than not, so to give chase like that and then attack its... it weren’t natural.” He sighed, a new worry of rabies making itself at home in his already spinning mind.

“Y’ever had a job in Romania before?” Scout asked, the question so out of pocket it threw sniper out of the quickly sloping spiral he was headed down.

“What?” He asked,

“I’m just saying, maybe that’s just what wolves’re like in Romania! Like breeds ‘a dogs. A Dalmatian’s a dog as much as a dachshund is, but they look totally different. So maybe this is just what a Romanian wolf looks like: fucked up and angry.”

A beat passed as sniper took in the suggestion. Sure, a wolf from Russia would look different from one found in India, but this one felt off in a way he couldn’t quite explain. Still, scout seemed hopeful that that was the case, and it wasn’t as if people had documented every animal in the world, so he sighed and pulled a slight smile- for both their sakes.

“Different breed then... tell ya what: once we get back I’ll look into it. But if nothing matches what we saw im using you as bait to catch one.”

“Wh- hey! it seemed to prefer you over me if you’re talking about a bite to eat! Thing probably thought you were a strip of beef jerky anyways.”

And despite the deep ache that had made its home in snipers bones, he let out a quick, easy laugh. For as much of a braggart the kid was, he at least knew how to cut tensions.

“Remind me why I tolerate you again?”

“Cause I got your hat and glasses back, dummy. Also I helped carry your gangly ass back here, so I think a ‘thank you’ is in order.” Scout answered, reaching somewhere behind him to produce the familiar old slouch hat and aviators, setting them beside his friend.

“I’ll thank ya when my arms not fulla holes anymore, hows that sound?” As if to punctuate he lifted his forearm, now seeing the patchwork of gauze wrapped together by what looked like grip tape. He was already dreading what medic would have to say about the macgyvered first aid, but at least the bleeding had stopped if the dried patch of red at the top was any indication.

The conversation continued on in much the same way for most of the ride, both sides deciding that if an argument was necessary then it could wait. At some point, sniper found himself lying back down, comfortably realizing the medicine had begun kicking in; silently appreciating how nice it was to be able to rest without sharp pains running from wrist to shoulder, and he assumed the dull ache that persisted through the rest of his body would dissipate in the next few minutes. It helped that he had something demanding attention to keep his mind off of it too.

By the time they had reached the base the sun was once again crawling beneath the horizon, and conversation had lulled into a comfortable silence with scout stifling the occasional yawn, and sniper adamantly trying to keep his eyes open. It didn’t last long however, seeing as he barely recalled the car stopping. After a groggy apology and assurance that really, he was feeling better, he gave a quick wave back before leaving for his own bed. He didn’t remember how he convinced Engie that they could wait to talk to medic until morning. Nor could he remember actually entering his van, or changing into a set of clothes that weren’t stained in blood and mud.

What he did remember, however, was how strange he thought it was that his the deep, dull ache in his bones had persisted despite the pain relief he’d taken.

[luki-fanfic]

Helluva Boss Theory: Why Blitzo and Verosika Broke Up

Okay, so I fell hard and fast for Vivziepop’s Helluva Boss a few weeks ago, and my brain just can’t help churning out theories and possible backstories.

And while my opinions on episode three are...mixed, I did start to try and theorise exactly how Verosika and Blitz got together and subsequently broke up while using crumbs from the handful of episodes we have to study.

First off, it’s hard to say who broke up with who – what we know about the relationship is limited to one conversation.  Whether Blitzo’s horse riding antics was the break up event or just something he did during the relationship is up in the air, but if we assume it was the breaking point, here’s my working theory on what happened:

Fact: The two of them were together for a while.  Blitzo admits they were dating, so it clearly wasn’t just a sex thing, and Verosika mentions Blitzo’s sister and rehab.  Given that she could have made a joke about Blitzo going into rehab with the washed up loser comment, it’s safe to assume she’s talking about something that actually happened that he might be hurt by – so I’m guessing they probably got together when Blitzo was still working at the circus with Barbie Wire.

(Some other posts have noted that it looks like Tilla has been erased and the poster is advertising the Imp Twins rather than siblings now, so most likely Barbie Wire).  

Perhaps Verosika was also working at the circus (given Robo-Fizz, singers could definitely be a thing in Hell-Circus, they certainly used to be once upon a time) and that’s how they hooked up.  It definitely happened some time ago though, since Loona doesn’t know about the relationship, so the timeline could fit.

(Also, she refers to Blitz as Blitzo, and unlike Robo-Fizz, he never even tries to correct her, suggesting that she doesn’t know he’s changed the pronunciation and Blitz doesn’t see the point in giving her extra ammo.  Or she’s just being petty.  Probably just petty).

Anyway, while they were dating, Barbie Wire decided to try and go solo.  Now, it could also have been Blitzo who wanted to go solo, but given how lonely he comes across and a lot of his issues, I suspect someone broke his trust first, so maybe Barbie Wire felt he was holding her back and cut ties, resulting in him trying to make it himself as well to prove he didn’t need her either.  

Whatever the reason, both twins try and make it solo.  Barbie has more success, though eventually crashes and gets to the point where she needs rehab, but Blitzo ends up losing star billing and eventually gets replaced by Robo-Fizz.

Around this time, Verosika also gets signed, and things are becoming better for her too.  This starts to irritate Blitzo, and subconsciously starts thinking Verosika is going to dump him in order to achieve success too.

In addition, Blitzo has a very ‘what’s mine is yours and what’s yours is mine’ mentality when it comes to finances.  In the pilot Moxxie says he blew all their salaries – money he should never have access to in the first place – on the advert.  Probably because he sees it as something that could help all of them, and therefore it’s fine to spend it since they’re ‘family.’  He had to get that mindset from somewhere – so maybe when he was in the circus, they had a very communal money pit.  He and his family shared their finances, and that means he doesn’t really see Verosika’s money as ‘her’ money so much as ‘their’ money.

And eventually, between Barbie’s abandonment, his own failures, and Verosika’s rising success, when they go to a hotel to celebrate some major achievement, Blitzo decides he deserves to have a fun day too, so grabs Verosika’s card, ‘borrows’ her car and heads off to a horse ranch in Wrath to play with horses.

Understandably, Verosika is incensed when she wakes up alone with her cash and wheels gone.  By the time she tracks Blitzo down, she’s utterly enraged. Worse still, Blitzo doesn’t understand why.  As far as he’s concerned, he didn’t do anything wrong – it’s not like ‘they’ can’t afford it.  Verosika, pissed off that he doesn’t seem to get it, makes it clear that if he doesn’t try to understand what he did wrong and won’t apologise, they’re through.

It’s probably just meant to be a threat, in the hopes that Blitzo will apologise and make amends.  However, Blitzo just sees that as confirmation of everything he’s been thinking.  If she really loved him, she wouldn’t care about a ‘little’ splurge like this.  Verosika is cutting him off because she doesn’t need him any more.  He’s not ‘family’ to her, and she’s throwing him away, so he calls the bluff, and the two get into a giant screaming match resulting in the two of them breaking up for good.

Because Blitzo can’t communicate to save his life, he threw away what was probably the strongest and most supportive relationship he had at the time.  And Verosika walked away thinking someone she loved enough to tattoo his name on her body was just using her for his own benefit.

Now why do I think this?

Because while Blitzo appears to hate Verosika (although I will admit, given his relationship with Stolas, and to an extent, Moxxie, It’s hard to tell if that’s genuine or not), Verosika is clearly not over Blitzo.  She’s the one accusing Blitzo of things, while Blitzo doesn’t defend or apologise – just scoff that she’s still whining about it – but let’s look at the big picture.

1. She has a tattoo of his name scored out.  She could have done a Millie and blacked out the heart entirely, but no – she wanted people to see it, probably so she can talk and vent about it. Possibly even to remind herself of her foolish mistake.

2. She’s a pop star working freelance for a succubus company in the same building as IMP. Except...IMP rents out of a condemned building in Imp City, which is inhabited mostly by imps.  Even the most successful business in that building is going to be struggling – let alone one run by succubi/incubi.  Surely there are succubus companies in the Lust ring that are far more profitable and would offer a celebrity like her far more financially and publicly.  So, when she saw the IMP advert, she clearly went looking to see if there was a company in that building she could work with.

3. She’s coming in for a week, but rents out the other side of the floor because there’s not enough room on the floor that’s already rented?  Yeah, no – she wanted to be in his face.

4. The fact that the parking spot was sprayed over and the sign was waiting before she arrived, means she told the company about Blitzo – and given some of IMP’s antics in the building (fire anyone?), they were probably delighted to help her screw over her ex.

I don’t think she wants him back, but I do think she wants him to regret letting her go.  She wants to show off her success and take what little he has and bring him to his knees.  She knows exactly how to make him jump to her tune – I mean, in a rational world, the demon duel would have inevitably ended up in Verosika’s favour, and we don’t know what she would have won if she succeeded. I’m willing to bet it would have been something pretty demeaning for Blitzo, and begun a week of karmic victory for her.

But, she screws up with the Beelzebub juice, gets trapped into a corner, and has to give Blitzo back the one thing she had over his head. Rendering any plan she had for the rest of the week worthless, because he’ll be lording that damn spot whenever she opens her mouth.  

(It would not surprise me if - after Verosika tried to piss him off again later that week, he called up Stolas, put him on speaker, told him they were going to have passionate fornication in his parking space tonight, and let Big Bird’s mouth do the rest).

Not that it really would have solved anything, because neither of them really understand why they broke up in the first place, so revenge and victory doesn’t really matter.  All tormenting Blitzo would have done is convince him that he was right, and his refusal to break would have just aggravated Verosika’s need for revenge even further.

[justmemewriting]

The Sister (Javier Peña x reader) Part 8 - duck huntin’

It was the next day. You had just woken up with a slight headache. No, you weren't hungover, but you definitely weren't used to drinking that much anymore. Of course you weren't. You had been so focused on your work the past few years that had completely forgotten to have fun. You knew that trying to catch Escobar would take up a lot of your time, but you were hoping that there would be a lot more times in the future where you could have this much fun with Javi.

At 7 AM you decided that it would be a good idea to finally get ready. After getting dressed and downing your coffee, you decided that it would be best if you waited for Steve at his car. After about 5 minutes of waiting, Steve finally came and greeted you.

You took a seat in his car and he drove off.

"You okay?" Steve asked you while glancing at you quickly. He must've notice the bags under your eyes from the lack of sleep last night.

"Oh, yes. I just didn't sleep so well." you told him. You weren't sure if you wanted to tell Steve that you had gone out for a drink with Javi. Surely, it was only an innocent drink, but you didn't want him to assume anything was going on between you and Javi, so you decided not to tell him.

Shortly after, you arrived at the Embassy. You, Steve and Javi had a meeting to discuss how you were going to proceed further in the Escobar case, but that meeting wasn't until 10 AM.

At 8 AM, Javi arrived at the Embassy and greeted you and Steve. By the looks of it, he didn't seem to struggle with the amount of alcohol he had yesterday, so you assumed that he definitely drank alcohol more often than you did.

"I need to make a call really quick" Steve told you to which you nodded. He left the office.

You went over to Javi's desk where he was currently sitting. "Do you still have the photos Carillo gave us yesterday?" you asked Javi.

Javi quickly looked for the pictures on his desk which was honestly a complete mess. He handed them to you and you looked at them. You didn't know what you were looking for, but you just felt like you needed to look at them.

"By the way, I had a really great time yesterday" Javi told you and flashes you a smile. He looked deep into your eyes and you blushed. You quickly looked back down at the pictures and smiled. "Me too. Thanks again for inviting me."

"Are you free next Saturday? I thought maybe we could go dancing like we said yesterday." he asked you.

"Sure. I'd love that."

"So, are you looking for anything specific in the pictures?" Javi asked and went to stand behind you where he could also look at the pictures.

"Not really. I just wanted to look at them again before the meeting. Maybe I'd see something that we haven't." you told him and turned to look at him.

Once you turned around you realized how close you were actually to him. You could feel his breath on your face.

"Sorry, that took so long." Steve said entering the office.

You quickly turned back around realizing the position that the two of you were in. Honestly, you hadn't even heard the door open.

"Are you guys ready for the meeting?" Steve asked you and Javi to which the two of you just nodded.

You entered a small conference room that was stuffed with boxes and files. In the room there were two men that you hadn't been introduced to yet, but seeing that they weren't going to introduce themselves to you, you just took a seat and waited for someone to start talking.

"So what's the plan?" one of the men asked.

"If we get proof that Escobar is violating the terms of his surrender, then they have to send him to a real prison but we need more than these aerial shots." Javi told the men getting right to business.

"Can you get us satellite communications or wire intercepts?" Steve asked the two.

"There's a no-fly zone over the prison, with antiaircraft guns manned by the Colombian army to enforce it." the same man as before said.

"You're playing with fire if Noonan finds out." the other man continued.

You saw that Steve was looking at the pictures so you decided to look at them with him when you noticed something that you hadn't before.

"Steve, is that what I think it is?" you asked him. "Fuck yeah, it is."

"We don't got shit on him without intercepts." you heard Javi say behind you.

"We don't need them" you told them and placed the pictures on the table.

"What? The hell we don't."

"They're not using phones," Steve explained and pointed at the picture.

"The hell is that?" the man asked.

"I could spot a coop a mile away. That's how they're sending messages." Steve told them, but they all looked just irritated. Javi grabbed the picture and looked at it from up close and nodded.

So it was planned. You, Steve and Javi were going to Escobar's prison to try and figure out what messages Escobar and his men were sending. It was decided that all of you would be leaving immediately, so that there wasn't any time wasted.

The ride was rather long but it was actually rather fun. Plus, it was nice to spend some more time with your two partners.

Of course, you couldn't get too close to the prison because of Escobar's deal but you went as close as you could.

Before you left, you had quickly prepared a few sandwiches and some coffee because you figured that it might take some time until you caught a bird or they actually send a bird.

"Anyone want some food?" you asked the two and pulled the food out of your backpack.

"God yes" Javi said and snatched a sandwich out of your hand. "You are the best" he told you and kissed you on the cheek. You smiled at him, feeling flattered by the gesture.

You poured each of you a coffee and that's when the boring part started. Now you just have to wait until one of the pigeons starts to fly.

The three of you took turns looking through the binoculars.

It was Javi's turn looking through them when Steve asked him "You see anything yet?" "No, man" "You're blind as a bat. Give me those". Javi handed the binoculars over to Steve who looked through them.

"Oh, one's going" Steve told you seeing one of the pigeons start flying. "Ten o'clock. Coming in low"

"I got it" Javi told you and grabbed the rifle.

Javi took multiple shots at the poor bird, but missed every single one of them.

"That's a fast fucking pigeon" Javi told you and turned to you.

"Or maybe, someone else should try it next" you laughed and grabbed the rifle from Javi's hands.

"You trying to say I'm a lousy shot?" Javi asked you.

"No, I'm not saying anything like that."

"Well, it feels like she is" Steve told Javi. "She totally is" Javi agreed.

Javi grabbed the binoculars again and looked through them.

"Heads up" Javi told you and you adjusted the rifle in your hand.

You knew that you had to wait a bit in order to not miss the shot.

"Shoot." Javi told you getting impatient, but Steve just stood there with a knowing look on his face.

"Shoot!" Javi told you again.

BANG

You shot the bird and it immediately fell to the ground.

"And that's how it's done, fellas"

The three of you went over to the bird.

Javi still looked shot that you had managed to shoot the bird immediately.

"Even been duck huntin'?" Steve asked Javi with a smug look on his face.

"No, I have not been duck hunting, you...fucking hillbilly." Javi answered and you laughed.

Steve grabbed the pigeon and pulled a piece of paper from it. He handed it to Javier telling him that it was in Spanish.

"Delivery due with El Paisa in the tunnel." Javi read out loud. "The son of a bitch built a tunnel under the jail."

You sighed. Of course Escobar would do something like this. But how could nobody have noticed that he actually built a tunnel?

Once you arrived back at the embassy, you immediately reported back to your supervisor.

When Steve and Javi were taking a break, you were pulled aside. The two men from earlier informed you about the result from some flyovers they did of Escobar's prison.

"There you are" you told Javi and Steve once they came back from their break.

"What's wrong?"

"They did a high-altitude flyover of the prison."

"And?" Steve asked noticing the urgency in your voice.

"They said that there aren't any tunnels. Something about the tomography not indicating anything of the sort."

"Did you ask them if we can measure radio frequency energy?" Javi asked you and you nodded.

"They said that they could, but that it wouldn't go deeper than 30 feet. They said that the only way that there's a tunnel under there is if they dug it to China"

"Great" Steve said sarcastically.

The three of you decided that it would be best if you left the office for a while, so it was decided that you'd go to Steve and Connie's for dinner and hopefully you would figure out how to continue from there.

"Maybe we can...We can ask the military to do light detection and ranging" Javi suggested once you were sitting around Steve's dinner table.

"We got a better chance of Noonan authorizing a divining rod." Steve answered.

"This is just frustrating" you told the guys and put your head in your hands. You felt exhausted and annoyed that you weren't getting any further with Escobar.

"Alright, I'm calling it a night." Javi told you and went to stand up.

"Nah, finish up." Steve told him.

"No, you can't even smoke in here." Javi said and got up with a cigarette in between his lips

"No luck?" Connie asked.

"These aerials don't indicate a single tunnel in the whole mountainside." Steve told her. You could tell that he was just as exhausted as you were.

"Maybe, we're missing something here." you told him.

"Hm. The only thing I can see in all of them is this truck." Connie told you and proceeded to clean up the dinner table.

This quickly caught Javi and your attention. Javi grabbed the picture and looked at it intently. You went over to him and looked at the picture and there it was. A damn truck.

...

"Steve, I'm leaving." you told your brother and hugged him. "Tell Connie thanks for the lovely dinner"

"I will"

You left the apartment on you way to your own one. That's when you saw that the door to your apartment complex stood open. You quickly peeked through it and saw that it was Javier smoking on the door steps.

"Can I borrow one?" you asked Javi. He quickly handed you a cigarette and lit it for you.

"I didn't know you smoked." Javi told you. You sat down next to him and shrugged.

"I don't. Well, usually I don't. I only smoke when I'm stressed or sad or frustrated." you told him and took a puff of your cigarette.

"Which one is it?" he asked you.

"All of it", you told him and turned to look at him.

You were looking into Javi's eyes and he was looking into yours. For a moment it felt as thought time was completely lost. The two of you were just enjoying each other company.

You leaned your head on Javi's shoulder while the two of you continued to smoke in silence.

Javi stroked your arm as a caring gesture to cheer you up which you really enjoyed.

If you were honest, you had never met anybody like Javi. He was loving, caring and a truly good friend. Javi really was sweet to you and you had to admit that you loved spending time with him.

The two of you sat there for a bit longer.

After some time, Javi sighed and stood up. He held out his hand for you and helped you stand up.

"You should get some sleep" he told you and accompanied you to your apartment.

"Well, you should too. Good night, Javi"

"Sweet dreams (Y/N)"

[brave-clarice]

“Clarice” Liveblog: Episode 2

Again, some extremely unfashionably late hot takes.

(Special thanks to @kathrynethegreat and @special-agent-pendragon​ for encouraging another liveblog!)

Clarice is working out! And eating junk food! I love it.

and cleaning her gun!

hey, Ardelia is drinking what I’m going to assume is her grandmother’s “smart people tea”.

Krendler disciplining Clarice already is infuriating but appropriate.

“I lost control.” Oh no, I don’t like that. Don’t make Clarice unstable. Her mental and emotional state never had anything to do with her failing career.

getting weird mixed signals from Ardelia. Last week, she obviously didn’t want Clarice to lie/stick to the script Krendler gave her, but now she’s telling Clarice she messed up by not doing so...?

“I better know you if you’re calling this early.” Amen, Ardelia.

I’m in love: this cinematography is straight out of the film (when she’s flying to WV with Crawford)!

“When’s the last time you went back to Appalachia?” “It’s been years.” What??? It has NOT been years--Clarice was JUST in West Virginia last week as well as in Silence, and she arguably attended college there as well. (UVA is at least nestled in the mountains, and you don’t have to drive far outside the Albemarle Valley to hit Appalachia proper.) After all the details about her character they’ve been nailing, they miss this glaring error? 

I like the tiny details she’s noticing (like the guy biting his nails). Not only because she’s an investigator, but because it’s reminiscent of Hannibal’s influence (imo).

Clarice Is Short: The Saga continues

still not getting any creepy vibes off Krendler. He’s going to be much less effective as an antagonist if he isn’t lewd as well as a dick.

I really don’t care for the way the opening “credits” fade out from the death’s-head moth to Clarice’s face. There are MANY animals that represent her, or parts of her, in the books--lions, lambs, horses, and of course birds--so this choice feels empty and lazy to me.

also lazy: having a fellow agent straight-up tell her in episode 2 “you shouldn’t be in the Bureau.” Maybe in two or three years, after some further “Death Angel”-type incidents, I could see this blatant rudeness, but not yet.

“Reesey”? Thanks, I hate it.

this flashback must be of Clarice’s little brother. That answers one question I had last week. That said...Clarice’s brother doesn’t play the same role in her story that Mischa does in Hannibal’s--but this sure feels like a Mischa-esque flashback.

good: they’re finally getting to the source of Clarice’s actual trauma!

bad: this is NOT how Clarice found out about her father. In fact, that whole incident is laid out in detail in the novels, and there’s nothing overly literary/un-cinematic about it, so this feels unnecessary. “The police are here! Something happened to Daddy!” No, bad! Show, don’t tell!

she would’ve known better than to introduce herself to that kid as “Clarice Starling, FBI,” come on now.

were they regularly able to wire tap hair clips in 1993? 

actually, nothing in this show looks very 90s to me so far. I’m sad about it.

so in eighteen months, Ruth Martin has gone from a junior Senator to the Attorney freakin’ General, and now she might run for governor?? At least let her get settled in one position of power first, why don’t you!

yet more Buffalo Bill flashbacks...alas.

are they trying to make this guy another surrogate Hannibal character? He’s commenting on Clarice’s accent and the dryness of her skin, asking about who she “left behind”...it all feels very Hannibal. (I know he’s a Charismatic Cult Leader trope, too--but when played off of Clarice...)

“Ew.” “I hate this guy.” I laughed.

I understand that Clarice probably feels conflicted re: her siblings in the book, but I’m really not digging the flashbacks of this Tim Burton character her brother.

@ the writers: Clarice already has the lamb backstory/symbolism, too. We don’t need this Little Brother stuff.

*shrieking* Mrs. Starling! At the sink washing the blood out of his hat!!! 

...aaand they had to ruin it with the brother’s painfully bad dialogue. Will still be good for gif-making, though.

are we supposed to interpret all these flashbacks as Clarice being incapable of controlling her emotions/state of mind? She keeps losing herself in memories and emerging all doe-eyed and panicky. I don’t like it.

not to be a broken record but...Clarice should be TOUGH. Again, Ardelia only saw her cry once in seven years. But she’s more worked up in this scene than Jodie was in Memphis!

when Mr. Cult Leader shouts “Agent Starling! Agent Starling!” he sounds exactly like Hannibal calling her back to his cell in the asylum. That has to be intentional. 

damn, wish that I could look as good five minutes after I’ve been crying as Clarice does.

I LOVE that Ardelia gets to be the crucial behind-the-scenes book-smart partner to Clarice’s action heroine.

AG Martin’s just playing politics by turning a blind eye to the crooked sheriff. But when her own daughter was just kidnapped and almost killed, she looks like a real hypocrite.

gosh, Rebecca Breeds is great. I already hope she gets nominated for an Emmy.

so Krendler is...doing the right thing???

Clarice’s father was definitely not a sheriff. I hope she’s just exaggerating for dramatic effect. (Maybe this will be clarified later.)

she couldn’t just sit with a manipulative guy without getting emotional, but she’s cool as a cucumber while telling an extended story about her father? HmmMM.

sometimes her mannerisms and facial expressions are so much like Jodie’s that it’s uncanny, like here when she leans forward to confront the Cult Leader.

“She did it.” Damn straight!

another great callback to Silence. this show’s camera crew knows its stuff!

“He’s concerned I have some residual trauma from Bill.” I. Hate. This. Subplot--and all its OOC implications.

“Catherine was close to her father, too.” Ooh, a nice allusion to the novel! Clarice makes note of their “common wound,” the loss of a father, when she’s in Catherine’s apartment in Silence.

she is just SO pretty.

little Clarice looks a LOT like Rebecca Breeds. I hope we see some more of her. 

The Good:

the continuing visual nods to the Silence film via cinematography

Mama Starling!!!

Clarice’s “The World Will Not Be This Way Within the Reach of my Arm” attitude, refusing to leave without helping the victims.

Ardelia Mapp coming in clutch! 

Clarice being, generally, a badass

and using psychological tricks/mind games to pin the antagonist...that’s the woman who disarmed a monster with just a few words.

Rebecca Breed’s acting has been phenomenal so far.

I like Clarice’s haircut a lot better when worn down (though it’s not very practical for fieldwork, so we probably won’t see it much).

The Bad:

the continuing Buffalo Bill-related Trauma Subplot. Ugh.

all the flashbacks to Clarice’s brother (and the not-so-subtle suggestion that her brother is, symbolically, another lamb).

will the real Paul Krendler please come forward? this guy is so TAME.

the other agents’ hostility towards Clarice needs to be toned down slightly so that it can escalate. Otherwise, where’s the tension?

is this actually 1993? I’m not feeling it. Shouldn’t it have a little of that Season 1/2 X-Files aesthetic? Please give me more than once-an-episode references to pagers and fax machines!

that glaring Appalachia continuity error...it’s still bugging me.

I missed the overt Hannibal references, even though they’re not necessary to any part of this episode. A lady can dream!

Overall, I really liked this one despite my various issues with it. It started shakily but built to a great finish. The emphasis across both episodes on Clarice being in the FBI not just to “get out, get anywhere,” but out of a genuine desire to help victims has been wonderful. I just hope they don’t swerve too far into the “too traumatized and emotionally compromised to function” lane. It would be a disservice to Clarice’s character and to her journey (and would smack too much of “Hannibal really did prey on her weak mind/brainwash her”.

Things I’d still like to see: More of her personality. Her hobbies and interests. That she’s cleaning her gun is great! Now let’s see “Poison Oakley” practicing her sharpshooting skills. Or car shopping. Or clothes shopping to show off her “developing taste.” (Ardelia can come!) I’ll take literally anything. Give us more of Clarice’s sense of humor as well. She had some subtle funny moments in the pilot, and it’s nice to see Rebecca smile for a change.

And Krendler? Smear that man in grease! I appreciated a happy ending even though Clarice’s career is, as we know, already in a downward spiral--the last thing we want is for every episode to be a slog, especially when a good chunk of the audience hasn’t read the book and doesn’t know Clarice is doomed to fail in the Bureau.

However... Krendler’s not a “redemption arc” kind of character. Or even a “run-of-the-mill sexist asshole” character. This is a man who spent seven years systematically sabotaging a young woman’s career because a) he was jealous that she solved the Gumb case before him, and b) she wouldn’t fuck him. He was a Justice Department official working fist-in-glove with a serial child molester who was planning some of the heinous vigilante justice imaginable. THAT’S why his very gruesome end at Hannibal’s hands felt deserved--even Clarice thought so! In short, he needs to get nasty.

Anyway, thanks for coming to another long-overdue TedTalk. Fingers crossed that the next one will be more timely (aiming for Sunday night)! 

[shining-red-diamond]

Ch. 1

Words: 3.1k

Pairing: NCT Misfit Unit x OCs

Genre: Fluff, angst, suggestive, mystery!AU

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: murder scene, violence, blood, brief sensuality

Savannah could smell the sweat and excitement the second she entered the clausterous arena. Two fighters were already in the middle of a match as she strolled in, and all of the men were screaming loudly for the fighter they were rooting for to defeat the opponent. The arena was once an abandoned nightclub, but some of the locals got the lights and electricity working again. After that, it became a place for underground WWE matches. The ring itself was made of metal wires with a tattered mat used as the floor. Sweat and old stains covered it so much that Savannah began to wonder when the last time it had been cleaned. It was certainly where she didn’t want to be on a Friday night, but she had a deadline to meet.

“Hey, lady,” a deep voice grunted from beside her. A young man with long, light blue hair and doe eyes was sitting at a table with a metal box filled with cash sitting on top of it.

“You gonna place a bet or what?” he said in a sharp tone.

“I’m looking for Johnny Suh,” she shot back. “Is he here?”

“Yeah, but you’re gonna have to wait until after the last fight is done to talk to him.”

Savannah just nodded, not very pleased with the young man’s attitude.

“Hey, babe,” a taller, young woman around five foot six with red hair approached the man and planted a loving kiss on his cheek. “Are we late? Astrid had to work an extra hour.”

“You’re in time for the last fight,” he replied, the biggest grin on his face as he looked up at her. His sudden change in attitude surprised Savannah, but she decided not to think too deeply about it.

The young woman was dressed in a cherry red, long sleeved crop top, denim shorts with a silver belt, and black combat books. Her friend, whom Savannah guessed was the one named Astrid, had shorter, dirty-blonde hair and sported an oversized military jacket and dark-wash jeans. Both of them seemed like sweet girls from what Savannah observed, so she decided to speak with them.

“Oh, hi!” the redhead greeted. “I’m Brittany. This is Astrid, and I’m sure you’ve met my boyfriend Hendery.”

“Savannah,” the journalist replied, not expecting such an enthusiastic welcome.

“You’re the reporter girl, right?”

“Journalist, but similar thing.”

“I’ve seen your picture in the papers before. You’re incredible.”

“I never knew I had such a fanbase,” Savannah nervously chuckled.

“I read your stuff when I’m in line at the grocery store, and you’re really changing the way cases get solved around here.”

Savannah got the impression that she was seen as a hero in this girl’s eyes, but she never considered herself one. She was just wanting to tell stories from her point of view, even if it meant solving a mystery. Her husband had the more heroic job with his fire chief occupation, and she was more than proud of him.

“Thank you,” was all she could say.

The two women made a beeline to the ring, Savannah following close behind them, and immediately climbed the fence to the top to get a bird’s eye view of the fight.

“Ten bucks, and I bet you Sledge gets his teeth knocked out within the first five minutes of the fight,” Brittany smirked at her friend.

“Really?” Astrid scoffed. “Twenty dollars and Wrecker breaks his fist in the process.”

“Excuse me,” Savannah waved. “I’m looking for a Johnny Suh.”

The two girls turned their heads towards the journalist, confused of why this fancy-dressed business woman was at such a fighting place built into an abandoned nightclub.

“Well, he’s the emcee,” Astrid shrugged, her voice having a light Danish accent, “so you will have to wait until the fight’s over. You’re welcome to hang with me and Brittany.”

Sit near a fight? Near where bones are known to break? Where blood is said to be splattered? Where humiliation overwhelms the loser? She wasn’t sure if she was ready to see that up close.

“I think I’m just going to find an empty seat,” she excused.

“Okay. You can sit with Jeno.” Brittany waved to a young man with jet black hair, and he nodded in acknowledgement. “You two can talk if you can, but it gets loud in here. It might be hard to hear, so fair warning.”

“I figured that.”

Brittany led Savannah to where Jeno was sitting, and after introducing each other she went back to her perch with Astrid.

“Lee Jeno,” Savannah repeated his name, half-shouting over the comotion. “Why have I heard your name somewhere?”

“Well, I’m not one of the top most wanted, but I’ve seen you at the fire station. Your husband is Chief Lee Taeyong, right?”

It then clicked in her mind. Jeno was part of Taeyong’s company, and she had seen him cleaning the firetrucks whenever she would bring something for her husband. The two had acknowledged each other, but never really spoke until now. Jeno seemed like a respectful young man, so Savannah felt no threat when she was around him. Seeing him now, she couldn’t help but notice his behavior. He was friendly, but he definitely seemed anxious about something. His knee bounced rapidly as his fingers drummed on it as if he was dribbling a basketball. When he spoke, he was calm; but his actions were saying that he had something on his mind.

“Yes, he is,” Savannah confirmed as she sat down next to him. “What’s a guy like you doing here?”

“I’m one of the fighters here when I’m not on duty, but I hurt my shoulder at a house fire. The doctor doesn’t want me doing any work for six weeks, so I just came to cheer on my friends.”

Savannah listened intently as the younger man told his story. He was a strong, young man at almost twenty-one, and he was one of the best fighters at the ring. The other fighters had given him the nickname “Hercules” to signify his strength, but he was one of the kindest fighters as well. Hercules could talk smack before a fight but make sure that his opponent got proper treatment for their injuries afterwards. If he ever lost a fight, he always gave the winner his congratulations.

“My family doesn’t like that I come here as a side hustle,” he continued as two beefy fighters entered the ring, “but as long as I come home after each one, then they let it slide.”

“Where do you get the money from?” Savannah asked.

“Some of it comes from lost bets, and some come from whatever gets made at the snack bar.” He pointed to a lit up area where someone was serving drinks to two women. “It’s a variety of things.”

“Laaaddiieeeesss and gentleduuuuudddeeeesss,” a voice boomed over a loudspeaker, causing the crowds to cheer.

Savannah looked over to see a man about six foot two and wearing a blue and black flame shirt half opened, and he was carrying a bullhorn instead of a microphone. The energy he radiated seemed almost out of place, but he managed to hype up the crowd with it.

“Is that Johnny?” she asked Jeno, and he nodded.

“We’ve had quite a night, tonight, haven’t we?” Johnny continued. “Well, we have one more round of action before I have noise complaints from the cops.”

The audience laughed.

“Let’s bring out Sledge and Wrecker!”

As the crowd roared in excitement, two large men on opposite sides of the ring entered it. One had a deep tan, bright purple hair, and a whole tattoo sleeve on his right arm. The other was thinner, but still muscular; and he had lighter skin and a buzz cut. Both men got in each other’s faces as to try to outdo each other in intimidating the other. Savannah just rolled her eyes and shook her head. To her, it was like watching two middle schoolers in a fight; but she still pulled out her notebook to jot things down.

Vibrations pulled Savannah out of her focus. Jeno’s phone was going off, and after seeing who it was his eyes seemed to pop out of his head.

“Is everything alright?” Savannah asked.

“I have to go right now,” he said as he quickly stood from his seat, “but I’ll see you around. It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Lee. Excuse me.”

Without another word, Jeno rushed out of the building. Out of her curiosity, Savannah sneaked out of her seat to follow Jeno, but she remained a good distance behind him. Once he was outside, he lifted his phone to his ear.

“Where are you right now?” he asked someone over the phone as concern laced his voice. “Is she okay?...Is she about to?...I’m on my way now. Tell her I’m coming.”

Jeno hung up the phone, shoved it into his pocket, and flagged down a taxi once he had reached the sidewalk in the fastest sprint Savannah had ever witnessed.

Many questions filled her head. Who was he talking to? Who was the girl mentioned? A girlfriend? A cousin? A sister? Was she hurt? Where was Jeno headed? The most logical answer would be he was close with a female acquaintance and needed him for something while she was in the hospital, but it was only a theory. Even if Savannah knew the answer, she figured it was probably none of her business.

As she headed back into the old building, the noise from the crowd had changed from whooping chants to cries of concern. When Savannah looked towards the ring, Wrecker was sprawled out on the floor, his body twitching and what looked like blood was pooling around his mouth. Is this what happens when fighters get knocked out? Savannah thought.

Brittany was still with Astrid when Savannah found them. “What happened?” she asked them.

The redhead was speechless and seemed near to tears.

“He was about to throw a punch,” Astrid explained in a panic, “but then he just collapsed out of nowhere.”

Two medics -a tall, lanky boy and a shorter, blonde girl- rushed over with a first aid kit to the fallen fighter and checked him; but the boy’s face immediately went into panic mode.

“Wrecker’s not breathing!” he wailed. “Someone call an ambulance!”

The girl didn’t hesitate to do so, and within a few minutes paramedics were trying everything to revive the fighter as they loaded him onto a gurney and into the large, white emergency vehicle. The police were also on scene as Hendery had seen something strange beforehand, so the incident quickly was turned into a homicide case. Everything happened in a flash, and Savannah wasn’t sure how something that was already chaotic became a place of death. Police lights were flashing by the abandoned building, yellow tape surrounded the ring, and investigators worked to find any evidence of what could have killed Wrecker.

“Hey,” a voice approached her. Johnny was jogging towards Savannah. “I heard you were looking for me.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” she forced a smile. “Do you think we can meet another time?”

“Yeah, yeah. I just wanted to see how you were.”

“I’m not hurt, if that’s what you mean.”

Johnny stood there with his hands on his hips and looked out to the crime scene. Savannah figured he was probably in shock as much as she was as beads of sweat were starting to form on his forehead. She wanted to ask him about what happened, but she figured now was not a good time.

“How about tomorrow at noon?” Johnny finally suggested after about a minute of silence. “I run the Iron Bell gym, so you can come by my office, and we’ll talk.”

“That’ll be perfect,” she agreed. “I think we all need some rest after what happened tonight.”

An officer then approached Savannah, took her statement and allowed her to head home.

-

Eleven o’clock in the evening rolled around when Savannah got home. An exhausted sigh escaped her lips as she set her purse and keys on the kitchen counter. Her fingers massaged her temples, her head throbbing with the weight of all the stress from what happened with Wrecker. He had died just after the paramedics arrived, and now the ring was a crime scene. Savannah didn’t know what to think. All she wanted to do was sleep away her worries and rest before meeting with Johnny the next day.

“Hey, babe,” Taeyong’s voice greeted her.

She hadn’t noticed her husband sitting on the couch with a bottle of cider in his hand and the tv turned on to a basketball game. He looked tired, but a small, welcoming smile was present on his face.

“Hi, honey,” Savannah greeted back as she trudged over to him.

“How was your day?” he asked as his wife kicked off her shoes and threw her coat on the recliner.

In an exhausted exhale, she allowed herself to fall over the arm of the couch and into Taeyong’s lap. Her face was immediately buried into his neck, and his strong arms captured her waist.

“Long?” he teased, guessing from her body language.

“Just hold me,” she requested with a nod.

“Can I have a kiss first?”

Savannah pulled her husband towards her and placed a soft but loving kiss on his lips. Taeyong always craved her touch, especially when he was on duty. He loved being at the fire station and having the opportunity to save lives, but at the end of the day he wanted to be home with his beautiful wife. Ever since they wed, whenever he was home early or off duty Taeyong would always have something to drink and watch a show before bed with Savannah. Occasionally, she would come home later than usual if she was on location for a story, and if she was exhausted like tonight she was extra snuggly. A year and a half into marriage, and this became almost routine for them.

For a few minutes, Savannah cuddled Taeyong as he caressed her like a swaddled baby. She was almost asleep until he tapped her awake so they could get ready for bed. He disposed of the now empty bottle before following his wife into their shared bedroom.

“Did you go to that ring tonight?” Taeyong asked as Savannah removed her makeup in the bathroom.

“Yeah,” she answered honestly. “But it was for a story for the Star.” She then began to cleanse her face.

“I know. Jeno goes there,” -he began to undress by the closet- “so I hoped he would see you.”

“I met him. Nice young man, but he left just before the last fight could happen.”

Taeyong came into the bathroom and pulled out his toothbrush and toothpaste. “He probably had a good reason.”

“Well, it sounded like an emergency,” she explained once she had rinsed her face. “He sounded concerned when he asked someone on the phone where they were and if they were with someone about to do something.”

The fire chief didn’t answer right away as he was occupied brushing his teeth, but he did shrug in response.

“I figured it was probably a sister or friend,” Savannah continued as she patted her face dry with a towel. “He said ‘she.’”

“Probably something with his girlfriend,” her husband finally answered after rinsing his mouth. “I don’t know.”

“Well, it fits the context.”

The two reentered their bedroom, and he insisted on undressing her and putting her pajamas on her as she was so tired. It was one of the intimate ways they both enjoyed to show each other; Taeyong more, because it allowed him to care for the woman he loved the most. A few soft kisses were stolen as he changed her, and they both swayed a little to some soft music Savannah put on to help them unwind for the night. Both of them had demanding careers, but when they had intimate moments like this, they were something worth treasuring.

After Savannah’s pj's slipped onto her body, Taeyong spun her out and back into himself before kissing her.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too.”

“You’re not mad I went to the ring?” Savannah asked as she crawled into bed.

“Did I like that you were going there? No,” Taeyong admitted, climbing in after her. “But knowing that you didn’t get hurt puts my mind at ease. I just hate that this assignment was handed to you.”

Savannah scoffed. “You act as if I’m made of glass. I’m a big girl, and I can take care of myself.”

Taeyong removed his glasses and set them on his nightstand as soon as he was on his side of the bed. He then wrapped his arms around his wife and stared into her eyes. “But I’m your husband, so I also have to take care of you.”

“You’re a fireman. You take care of everyone.” Savannah’s fingers ran through her husband’s dyed-velvet red hair.

Taeyong gave her a loving kiss. “It’s my job, and I love helping out the community. But you’re the one I want to come home to at the end of my shifts. Everyone means nothing compared to you.”

With small scoff disguised as a laugh, Savannah pulled her husband closer to her and began a small makeout. Despite being exhausted, she was just as hungry for his embrace as he was for hers. Her heart picked up the pace as Taeyong’s thumbs rubbed small circles on her lower back.

“Have you thought about it?” Taeyong asked, his lips trailing kisses down Savannah’s neck.

“About what?” she replied in a breathy tone.

“Trying, again.”

Taeyong and Savannah both desired children, but they wanted to adjust to married life and having careers before they decided to begin trying to conceive. A year into their marriage and they started doing so, but it was proving difficult. Each of their doctors had told them that they were healthy and doing everything right, but not every pregnancy will begin right after the first try. It was a lot to process, but the couple decided to focus on their careers and each other for a bit before trying again.

“Sometimes,” she shrugged, “but work has gotten so hectic for the both of us recently. I don’t know if we’ll have time for a baby. Plus, I’m so tired from what happened tonight.”

“I know,” nodded Taeyong before pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We can make time, but I’ll be ready when you are.”

[agapaic]

tianshan top gun-AU drabble. 💞 on behalf of emma’s very generous donation to the ‘justice for jacob blake fund’ @plumb19. if you would like to donate to an organisation supporting black lives in return for a drabble, please see here for more information (closes monday evening). 🌸

///

‘No visual on Farmer! I repeat, no visual on Farmer!’

He Tian’s laugh comes through his headgear. ‘You don’t need a visual on me, sweetheart! This is a race not an op—there’s no bandit here but me!’

Guan Shan grits his teeth. He goes full throttle, flies blind. The finish line is in sight, ten miles out at his twelve o’clock. He can feel his face pulling backwards with the speed, the G-force making him lightheaded. He can’t g-LOC now—he’d die from the shame of acting out the funky chicken before his plane even hit the ground. He Tian will know what happened—he’ll see the Firebird jet tail out, the vape from the tail end stretching skywards.

Faster—fucking faster.

Guan Shan’s eyes dart to his mirrors. All clear. Where the fuck is He Tian? He can’t be ahead of him—there’s no way Guan Shan could go any faster. He’s got the jet firewalled, his head mashed backwards against the headrest. His bones are shaking; his teeth are aching.

He Tian again: ‘Right above you, sweetheart.’

Guan Shan’s head jerks up. He doesn’t know why he bothers looking. There’s nothing there but the roof of the jet: no window. He Tian’s a ghost on his radar.

‘The fuck do you think you are?’ Guan Shan spits, eye locked back on the finish line. The engine roars in his ears. ‘Fuckin’ God?’

He Tian laughs again. Guan Shan doesn’t hate that He Tian’s enjoying this—he hates that he’s enjoying it too. Why shouldn’t he? It’s a game, not a dogfight, and the winner chooses the reward. There’s no bogey or bandit on their trail, no spike on the radar. When’s the last time he got to go full throttle without the fear of a strike?

‘Come on, Guan Shan,’ He TIan croons through the headset. ‘We’re nose for nose.’

‘Are you even tryin’?’ Guan Shan barks back.

‘You should see my hand,’ says He Tian. ‘It’s never wrapped tighter around a stick before.’

Guan Shan swears under his breath. He Tian must hear it: he laughs.

Two miles.

‘Just—get off my back, would’ya?’ he grouches out. ‘Wanna see your face when I beat you over the finish line.’

‘Oh, Ah-Shan. You know I like to finish on top.’

Guan Shan veers.

There’s a damning thud, an awful shriek of metal. He Tian swears over the comms. Everything shakes and the engine judders as the underbelly of each jet scrapes against each other. The sky swings above him, pendulum-like, and an alarm blares somewhere.

Out the corner of Guan Shan’s eye, he sees He Tian’s jet wrench itself away. The Shenyang J-6 sidles up beside his own, evening out. He Tian’s face is shielded by his helmet and the high-alt oxygen mask, but Guan Shan imagines his mouth split open in a wide, white-toothed smile.

Fucker.

‘Daring,’ He Tian comments over the radio, his voice crackling. ‘Nearly took me out with that move. Yourself included.’

Guan Shan breathes shallowly. His heart is beating fast, and he wrestles it under 110. If it goes too high or flatlines Zhan Zhengxi will call in the cavalry from the base.

‘I’m not above playin’ dirty,’ Guan Shan mutters.

‘Oh, I know. You’re not a grape, Mo Guan Shan. Bigger balls than anyone gives you credit for.’

You’d like to think so.

‘At least,’ says He Tian, ‘I’d like to think so.’

700 yards. They’re at break-neck now. A final bend through airspace, and Guan Shan will be over the finish line. His face has started to go numb. He’s conscious only of the pressure in his ears, behind his eyes. Feels like bruising in his eye sockets. His knuckles must be bone-white beneath the gloves.

500 yards from the turn. Guan Shan bites down hard on his lower lip. The jet rattles around him like an earthquake in flight. If he leaves it too late he’ll veer off path and lose seconds he knows he wouldn’t recover. Too early and he might force the jet straight into He Tian’s and they could both go down.

‘You gonna tell me your action plan?’ asks Guan Shan, teeth gritted.

‘Oh, no. I’m leaving this all to you.’

Guan Shan swears, eyes on the blue-skied horizon. 200 yards. ‘Even if I kill us both.’

‘I think you know how to punch out if it gets too much.’

Now. Guan Shan yanks down hard on the controller, the skyline swerves around him; nausea wells in his throat. There’s no collision; he has no visual on He Tian’s jet and no time to wonder why that might be. He makes the turn, levels out, throttles forward to the finish line.

The base comes into view below him, and a green light blinks up at him from ATC like a traffic light.

He’s done it.

Guan Shan throws his head back against the headrest, breathes out shallowly.

A voice comes over the comms. ‘This is Mother to Firebird. Mother to Firebird. How do you hear me?’

‘I hear you,’ Guan Shan says thickly. He starts to drop, pulls back the throttle. He’ll have to do a loop of the base to line up with the runway. He doesn’t mind the victory lap.

There’s a smile in Zhan Zhengxi’s voice. ‘Cleared to land at your leisure. How does first place feel?’

Guan Shan swallows a grin. ‘Affirmative,’ he says. ‘Feels pretty fuckin’ good.’ He checks his mirrors. ‘Where the fuck is Farmer?’

‘Uh, he hasn’t crossed yet. Looks like he pulled back at the finish. Problem with his radar, I think? Jian Yi’s working him through it.’

Guan Shan’s mouth falls open. ‘Bullshit,’ he gasps. ‘Bull. Shit.’

‘Don’t shoot the messenger. Take it up with him.’

Guan Shan glares. He can feel his vision narrowing. He has half a mind to turn the jet around and shoot He Tian down for the sheer fucking hell of it—a fox two, maybe a three if he’s lucky. Guan Shan’s fingers go to the triggers. How fucking dare he?

‘Firebird, did you copy?’

Guan Shan sets his jaw. ‘Affirmative,’ he says flatly.

Take it up with him? He’d better fucking bet.

///

There’s a view of the runway from the changing rooms, a long strip of glass that means Guan Shan knows the exact moment He Tian’s Shenyang J-6 touches down on tarmac and pulls into the hangar. It means, also, he knows exactly how long it will take He Tian—second-place DNF loser—to walk through the base to the changing rooms.

It takes He Tian twenty minutes to land the jet and make his way to the changing room. Twenty minutes for Guan Shan to simmer and get himself close to boiling. The second He Tian walks through the door, he tips over. Guan Shan’s helmet smashes against the floor in fragments of plastic, metal, and glass.

The helmet nearly strikes He Tian in the face, but his reflexes are good. He dodges, swears, looks back to Guan Shan with wide, incredulous eyes. Glass crunches beneath his boot as he moves over to the ceiling-to-floor lockers.

‘Those are expensive, you know?’ He Tian says.

Guan Shan doesn’t care about a fucking helmet. He Tian’s father can foot the bill, mark it off as an extraneous expense. Being the commander of the base has its perks.

‘You fuckin’ fixed it.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ says He Tian, stripping off his gloves. ‘There was a malfunction. Probably after you rammed into me, I suspect.’

‘You let me win,’ Guan Shan growls.

He Tian shrugs. ‘Check the black box if you like. It’s all there.’

‘Who’d you pay to wire it?’

He Tian begins to unbuckle his suit. The black leather sticks to his body like a second skin, suggesting at lean muscle and broad shoulders that bare themselves as He Tian peels back its layers. Nothing about it is standard-issue. It’s been made to fit like a glove. Guan Shan hates it.

‘I didn’t pay anyone, Mo Guan Shan.’

‘Right. You didn’t have to. People will suck your dick around here for a look.’

He Tian looks at him.

Guan Shan snarls. ‘What the fuck do you even get by losing? Are you that fuckin’ desperate to disappoint him?’ He shoves a thumb upwards. Not God, but He Tian’s father, and doesn’t everyone act like he’s the same thing? ‘Fuck me over and bring shame on the family name? Two birds and one stone?’

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ He Tian sighs.

‘Fuck, I wanna kill you right now.’

‘Go on, then. Try.’

‘What’s the point?’ Guan Shan sneers. ‘You’ll punch out at the last second. Blame the faulty mechanics.’

A thought strikes him: he could punch him. A realisation: he’s going to.

Five concentrated footsteps, the swing back of his right arm.

His knuckles bruise on He Tian’s cheekbone.

‘Fuck!’ He Tian shouts. He spits blood onto the floor, doubles over at the waist. Guan Shan steps back and his eyes go to the sharp nodules of He Tian’s spine as he bends over, curved out like a penitent. Guan Shan looks at him with disgust.

‘You didn’t even fight back,’ he mutters. ‘Who the fuck has you whipped?’

There’s blood coming from He Tian’s nose; some of it has spattered onto the toe of Guan Shan’s boot. He Tian, Guan Shan realises, is laughing.

‘You’d think—oh, fuck me—you’d think it would be fucking obvious, wouldn’t you?’

Guan Shan stares at him. ‘This ain’t fuckin’ funny—’

‘But it is.’ He Tian winces, straightens, dabs two fingertips against his bloodied nose. ‘You’re a good fucking pilot, Mo Guan Shan, but you are awful with analytics. Never go into the Intelligence sector, okay?

Riddles and disguise. Guan Shan hates it. There’s some truth to He Tian’s words, but he’s glad for it: he’s glad he doesn’t get it. Glad he can’t deal with conundrum and complexity. In the ten years they’ve been at this—flight school, their junior years, coming close to leading, wingmen by virtue of their shared skills—he’s never stopped hating the enigma He Tian enjoys wrapping himself around like a coat keeping him warm through the winter.

‘I don’t have time for this.’

He turns to his locker; he’ll take his clothes back to his room, save changing for somewhere that rHe Tian can see him. He doesn’t want to be here anymore. He clicks in the combination, tugs the door open with a metallic clank. A hand falls to the locker beside him, just brushing the side of his head, and Guan Shan can feel the heat of He Tian’s bare chest through the fabric over his back.

Guan Shan swallows. ‘Move.’

‘I don’t want to.’

‘I’ll hit you again.’

‘I might put up a fight this time—even if it’s you.’

Guan Shan stills. ‘The fuck is that supposed to mean?’

‘What do you think?’

Guan Shan squeezes his eyes shut. ‘Tell me. Please, just fuckin’ tell me.’ Put me outta my misery.

He Tian’s mouth is level with his ear, and Guan Shan shudders as hot air moves across his neck. He Tian is too close. Guan Shan’s body still aches from the G-force, a strain that will last through the night, but he can’t distinguish it from anything else that might be bruising its way through his narrow veins like swallowing a tablet dry. Guan Shan puts his forehead on the frame of his open locker; the metal is cool to his skin.

‘Why do you think,’ He Tian murmurs, silken, ‘I would make sure you won?’

‘I don’t—’

‘Why do you think,’ he says, ‘I’d let you hit me if that’s what you wanted?’

If that’s what you wanted.

Guan Shan’s voice is tight. ‘I never wanted to win if you made yourself lose.’

There’s a pause. He Tian says, ‘You said you’d quit if you lost. Before the race. You said you’d move somewhere else if you couldn’t be number one here.’

Guan Shan frowns. ‘I was—that was a joke. I was just settin’ the stakes.’

He Tian moves. He’s a few paces back when Guan Shan turns to face him. His expression is unreadable, and Guan Shan’s head is working on overdrive trying to keep track of the conversation and all its hidden nuance.

‘Are you sayin’—you did that to keep me from leavin’? You seriously thought I’d quit over some stupid race?’

‘It wasn’t a stupid race. It was you and me—’

‘I’m never gonna be as fast as you,’ says Guan Shan slowly. ‘You’re never gonna be as good a shot as me. I know where we’re strong and I know where we’re not. I’m not gonna quit ‘cause of some stupid competition with you.’

‘But I didn’t know that.’

Guan Shan swallows. There’s a heat to He Tian’s words that blisters. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s conscious that He Tian is half-dressed before him and that there’s blood drying on his chin.

‘I’m not leavin’,’ Guan Shan tells him, feeling oddly inclined to reassure him. He Tian. The stalwart bastard who never gives him a break. Guan Shan can’t stop himself: ‘I’m—we’re a good team. General Qiu said we’re one of the best this fuckin’ base has seen in twenty years.’

‘You hate being my wingman,’ He Tian says flatly.

Guan Shan’s eyebrow quirks. ‘I get first seat watchin’ you fuck up and take none of the damage.’

He Tian drags a hand over his face. ‘God, he’s good,’ he mutters to himself. Louder, he says, ‘So if you weren't quitting if you lost, what did you want if you won?’

‘Probably the same as you,’ says Guan Shan carefully.

‘Ha!’ He Tian crows. His eyes darken. ‘Oh, I doubt it sweetheart.’

‘Wanna bet?’

He Tian’s brows lift. A smirk spreads slowly across his face, arrogance coming into steady effect. He swaggers forward.

‘My request,’ he murmurs, ‘would’ve been you.’

Guan Shan closes off his expression, puts his walls up. The news comes as no surprise: He Tian’s been clear with his intentions since they were in flight school, tugging at heartstrings like pigtails. Guan Shan doesn’t mind anymore. He’s used to it. He knows, with He Tian, the offer of intimacy is only sex and doesn’t go further. The walls Guan Shan has built are thick with cement.

Behind them, another jet comes into land. The windows rattle.

Guan Shan breathes out slowly, waits for the engine sound to fade. ‘Like I said,’ he starts, lifting his gaze from the floor. ‘Probably the same as you.’

It takes He Tian a few seconds. Guan Shan takes it as a win—a real one.

‘You—’ He Tian swallows. ‘So, all this time—all of our fighting. You could have just said so.’

‘Could’ve,’ Guan Shan admits. ‘But I never wanted sex, He Tian. I mean—I never just wanted it. Not like you.’

He Tian blinks at him. ‘Maybe I wasn’t clear. When I said I wanted to give you what you wanted: I meant it. Every word.’

‘You’re gonna regret that.’

He Tian nods slowly. ‘Very possibly,’ he says.

They’re close enough that when Guan Shan reaches out a hand and loops his fingers around He Tian’s wrist, He Tian comes forward with ease. His smile is indulgent.

He Tian continues: ‘But I’m willing to take a fox three for it.’

Guan Shan rolls his eyes. His fingers knot themselves in He Tian’s hair, and his mouth comes down to meet his willingly.

‘Shut the fuck up, He Tian.’

[hellowkatey]

Febuwhump Day 6

Prompt: Insomnia

Summary: The Disaster Lineage™ has a long history of being horrible at getting the sleep they need.

Read on AO3

Good Sleep is Hard to Find

"It's called insomnia, Obi-Wan," the Twilek healer looks unamused as she sits across from him. "And no, it's not normal."

Obi-Wan Kenobi doesn't particularly like going to the healers. In fact, he avoids them as much as he can. Unfortunately, in this case, Master Che cornered him as he left the training sala and practically dragged him by the ear to her office.

"It really is not too bad. I've grown accustomed to-"

"To what? Four hours of sleep? On a good night?" Master Che rolls her eyes. "You Jedi Knights are going to give me an aneurysm one day."

"I do hope not, Master. Then all of us would be walking around with untreated concussions and scantily wrapped blaster wounds."

She leans back in her chair, her bright blue eyes softening. "Yes, likely. Listen, I brought you here because your little late-night training sessions have found their way down the rumor mill. People are concerned for you."

Obi-Wan glances out the window at the darkened megapolis. He didn't think anyone knew he would go to the training rooms when he couldn't sleep. Though, nothing can really happen in this temple without every other knight and padawan hearing about it.

"I figured it was a good way to tire myself out."

"Well lucky for you, you won't have to do katas at three in the morning anymore," she reaches into her desk and slides two pill bottles across the table. Obi-Wan gingerly picks them up, looking up at her inquisitively. "One is a natural supplement. Think of it as your first line of defense. If you're not feeling tired at bedtime, take this first. It's the natural hormone your body produces to make you fall asleep. Very safe."

"Right. And this one?" he shakes the other. A flicker of a smirk appears on her lips.

"That's the good stuff. It should knock you right out, but only take one pill a night, max."

Seems easy enough. Obi-Wan looks between the two bottles, internally a little glad Master Che corralled him into here. He is not keen on drugs usually, but his current situation has become quite distressing... Maybe he'll finally get a decent sleep.

"And if neither work?" he asks, a little fearful of her answer.

"I'll be impressed if the second doesn't work, but I suppose I can teach your padawan how to do a proper sleep suggestion."

He points an accusatory finger at her. "You wouldn't dare!" The healer smiles fully now, shaking her head. As she looks at him longer, her smile fades again into sympathy.

"Obi-Wan, I do hope you plan on using these medicines. Insomnia is very common, and you are certainly not the only Jedi Knight on this regimen."

He sighs, clutching the bottles in his fist. "I just don't understand why I can't sleep, I suppose. Anakin tires me out his fair share, and I feel exhausted, I just can't seem to actually sleep."

"Well," she shifts in her seat. "It tends to get worse in times of stress-- like having a teenage padawan... or when processing trauma."

Red. So much red, and the sight of a lightsaber through Qui-Gon's abdomen flashes through his mind. He blinks away the image, though he knows it will be there in his dreams anyway. It always is. But he isn't here to discuss that, even if Master Che seems insistent on doing a full exam on him while she has him trapped in the halls.

"Right, well," he stands. "I should let you get your own sleep and try to get some of my own."

She looks a little disappointed as he pines for the door but she stands and they bow goodbye. "I don't want to hear about any more nighttime training sessions, Knight Kenobi. I have eyes and ears everywhere, you know."

He smiles. "Yes, Master Che, I understand."

Yet somewhere between the Halls of Healing and Obi-Wan's apartment, he seems to forget their understanding. He sits on his bed, staring at the bottles in either hand. The morning will be upon Coruscant in a short few hours, and he can't risk being knocked out and missing morning meditation and training with Anakin. He sets the bottle of sleeping pills on his side table and looks at the supplements. She claimed these were natural, only a mild aid... perhaps he can at least try these for his few hours of sleep.

They go down easy with water, and he lays on his back, staring up at the ceiling. His muscles are still buzzing from hours of repeating kata after kata, honing his acrobatics, and dueling with the training droids. It baffles him how his body can feel so exhausted but he doesn't find a wink of sleep. The reality of his sleeplessness is a number barely present in the back of his mind. He tries not to think about it as the hours tick up. Twenty-four hours. Thirty-six hours. Forty. Fifty. Sixty.

The worst part is he is trying to sleep. Truly. He wants nothing more than for his head to hit the pillow and to blink out of consciousness for a good six hours or so. But to no avail. He envies the other knights who have taught themselves to sleep whenever they can, wherever they can. In the deep wells of the Temple windows, pilot chairs of ships, standing up in some cases. Sometimes he is tempted to ask them their secret, but he suspects that just like he is wired to be awake forevermore, they are made to find their rest.

Everything is the will of the Force, isn't it? Qui-Gon always told him there was a reason for everything. A plan that he may not be able to see now, but later he will. His greatest comfort has always been that there will one day be a purpose for the agony he goes through. One day it will all make sense.

He closes his eyes. Maybe that will help. He doesn't feel drowsy but he isn't sure if he is supposed to with this supplement.

Obi-Wan can feel the edges of sleep nearby. He tries to grab them, hang onto the feeling of spiraling into blissful unconsciousness, but it's like a switch he can't reach. He rolls to his side, squeezing his eyes shut again. Tries to push out every thought from his mind, but somehow thinking about how he needs to think about nothing is more occupying to his mind than actually thinking about anything else.

So he lies there. Switches to his other side. Back to his back. Experiments with lying on his stomach, and decides it cranes his neck too much. And when he finds himself on his back for the third time he realizes the light has slowly crept into his room and Anakin's alarm is blaring on the other side of their apartment.

He sighs. Sits up and rubs his eyes. Fifty-five hours.

Obi-Wan struggles his way through their meditation. His heavy intake of caff made him jittery and his lack of sleep made getting a good grasp on the Force difficult. Even Anakin seemed to notice his lack of propriety, which only made Obi-Wan feel worse. After lunchtime, Obi-Wan goes to one of his knight elective courses. It's saber training concentrating on Form III, which he usually enjoys, but today he lingers near the back of the group. His vision is starting to get hazy, and things look as though they are moving when he knows they aren't. After getting hit by three training bolts that he should have been able to deflect, he decides to bench himself for the remainder of the class.

He has a feeling this will get back to Master Che, but he doesn't care anymore.

Anakin is back from his own classes when he gets back to his apartment. The padawan is lounging on the couch with a datapad balanced on his knees. When he sees Obi-Wan come through the door, he jumps up.

"Master you're back!" he says with more enthusiasm than Obi-Wan is used to from his teenage apprentice.

"Anakin, hello," he says, raising an eyebrow and glancing around the apartment. "What did you break?"

Anakin crosses his arms. "Why do you think I broke something?"

Obi-Wan sets down his training bag by the door. "Just a feeling, I suppose."

"Well a wrong feeling, Master," he says, walking with long strides into the kitchen. Yes, he is definitely up to something.

Anakin pulls out two plates, each with sandwiches stacked tall with meat. Obi-Wan also suddenly realizes the kettle is on the stove and two mugs are sitting out, prepped with tea bags.

"I asked one of the Masters what kinds of food help people go to sleep. They said turkey and chamomile tea are good," Anakin looks up at him hesitantly. "I thought maybe some turkey sandwiches and tea for dinner may help you... you know. Sleep better."

Obi-Wan feels like he might cry. He blames it on the sleep deprivation but seeing the effort Anakin put into a problem he had no idea his padawan even picked up on touches him. The boy can be a terror sometimes, but Qui-Gon was right about his kindness. Obi-Wan smiles, walking up to the fourteen-year-old and squeezing his shoulder.

"This looks wonderful, Anakin. I have been having some sleep troubles, and I'm sorry if I worried you."

"When I can't sleep I like to try to tire myself out. Have you tried that, Master?"

He smiles softly. More than you know, young one. "Unfortunately, Master Che was not too happy with that method. She gave me some medication to help, instead."

Anakin takes a big bite of his sandwich, making a face. "That's not as fun."

Obi-Wan takes his own bite of the sandwich that is quite literally stacked with turkey. It might be half a bird here alone. "That's what I told her, too."

Anakin laughs, jumping up to grab the screeching kettle and finish preparing the tea. Sixty-four hours now, but this time he has a good feeling about resetting the clock for tomorrow. The master and apprentice enjoy the rest of their meal, and then Obi-Wan retires to his room. With his belly full of comfort food and tea, he actually feels the long-lost tug of drowsiness enticing him to bed. Even with such a feeling, he picks up the medication that Master Che prescribed him.

Without adequate sleep, he can't be the Master Anakin needs him to be. The boy deserves all that and more. Obi-Wan swallows the sleeping pill without another thought and lies back in bed. It takes only a few minutes for him to drift into a blissful, dreamless sleep.

__________

A scream is caught in his throat as Anakin is forcibly thrown out of his nightmare. He chokes on it, coughing a few times to clear his throat and then wiping the cold sweat off his brow and upper lip. It's pitch black in the room, but he waits a moment to turn on the light. Sometimes, when he just lets his eyes adjust naturally he can pretend for a few moments that he's anywhere other than the cold quarters of a star destroyer. He can be back on Coruscant, in Padmé's comfortable bed with the weight of her comforters pressing him into the mattress. Or in their lake country villa on Naboo, her body wrapped around him with the sound of running water nearby. Sometimes he is back with his mother, her fingers rifling through his hair soothingly as she lulls him back to sleep.

Anywhere where he isn't alone on a bunk harder than durasteel. Sometimes he thinks he'd rather sleep on the dunes of Tatooine than his bunk. (Obi-Wan usually tells him to stop being dramatic when he goes that far.)

But these little divergences are enough to lull him out of the panic of his dreams and into a better state of mind. By the time his eyes do adjust to the blank walls and regulation furniture he can decide whether or not he will be returning to sleep for the night.

They've been getting worse lately. The dreams. They happen nearly every night now. Not always the same thing, like before his mother's death, but always intense and horrific. Always making him wake up close to tears or worry that he's been screaming and Ahsoka or Obi-Wan will come bursting in at any moment. Sometimes he is calm enough to put going back to sleep to chance. Other times he prefers to just accept a day without sleep.

Obi-Wan would kill him if he knew. Ahsoka gives him enough trouble when he yawns his way through briefing meetings, so he's surprised she hasn't tattled on him yet. Or maybe she has, and the old man has decided it would be hypocritical to nag him about it. Obi-Wan isn't exactly known for his healthy sleep schedules either.

He doesn't have good feelings about sleep tonight. His heart is still racing and he can still see a horrific scene of Ahsoka sobbing with a lifeless Obi-Wan in her arms, blood is trickling out of his nose and ears, and eyes glossy and set. It's a moment he's seen a few times. Sometimes Obi-Wan is already dead and other times he's falling and Anakin is running frantically to save him.

He never makes it.

Tonight was no different.

Anakin turns on the light and slips on a pair of trousers. His hair is a mess, per usual, but running his fingers through it a few times seems to do the trick. He still has to squint as he steps out into the hallway. The fluorescent lights of the ship are about as harsh as staring straight into a star, but it wakes him up as good as a cup of caff. It's the middle of the nightshift, but the halls are still just as busy as usual. Since there is no distinct day or night in the middle of deep space, they are just suggestions to ensure people actually sleep.

It's not as comforting as taking walks around the sleeping Temple when he can't sleep. There is a blissfulness to being awake when the rest of the planet isn't that Anakin finds refreshing from the usual bustle of the day. The best he can find is the mess, where only a few troopers sit around at the tables with cups of caff or snacks.

Anakin helps himself to his own cup, pouring a decent amount of sugar in for good measure. He settles down at a table with his datapad. Maybe this time he'll actually get his council report in on time, at least. He spends the next hour or so filling out his paperwork and working up a decent collection of caff cups and snack wrappers. By the time he reaches his last assigned task, the dinner rush has begun for the night-shifters.

"General Skywalker?" he looks up to see Rex standing with his own cup of caff in hand. Anakin gives him a friendly smile.

"Oh hey, Rex, what are you doing up?"

"Could ask you the same, sir," he sits down on the bench, eyeing the four other empty cups strewn about.

"Paperwork. Couldn't sleep."

The corner of Rex's mouth upturns in a half-smile. "More and more like General Kenobi, every day."

"Don't even joke like that, Rex, I would never hear the end of it," he says, though a small part of his mind curses that the captain is actually right. Using paperwork as an excuse to avoid sleep? He might as well grow a beard and have a Core accent.

"Only joking, of course, sir."

"So what's your excuse?"

"My excuse?"

"Our first call isn't for another few hours, and I've never seen you up and about at this time."

Rex takes a long sip from his drink. Stalling, it seems.

"To be frank, sir, ever since Umbara I tend to... wake up earlier."

Anakin searches the clone captain's face, and suddenly he recognizes it. The dark circles and bloodshot eyes are faint, but definitely there.

"The dreams keep you up?" he asks casually. Anakin has always liked Rex because he isn't afraid to be more candid around him. He has the respect of a leader, but he isn't so uptight about his rank. Through their time working closely together, they have actually begun to be somewhat of friends. At least, Anakin considers Rex to be a friend.

The clone looks up at him with surprise. "Well, sometimes, yes. How did you--"

"Like I said, I'm not Obi-Wan. Paperwork doesn't keep me up at night."

It feels good to actually admit it aloud to someone. To be able to say he's having bad dreams without getting a lecture from his master or getting watched like a hawk by his padawan. Especially if Rex is having the same issue.

They let this revelation blanket around them as they continue to sip on their caff. Even with six cups in his system, Anakin's body feels heavy and fatigued. It takes much longer to complete the last form with the amount of time he has to read and reread things to make sure he is understanding it right. His vision keeps blurring as though he is on the verge of falling asleep.

That's something Anakin has never had a problem with-- falling asleep. It takes him mere minutes to close his eyes and fall into a deep sleep. It's just the damned dreams that wake him up and ruin his rest.

"Uh, sir?" he hears through a clearing throat. Anakin opens his eyes and realizes he has dozed off with his forehead on the datapad. He smiles away the embarrassment, shaking his head.

"This caff sucks."

"You know they have decaf out after lunch right?"

He blinks. "Decaff?" Anakin says it as though it's a word in a foreign language.

"Yes, you have to request for a pot of regular. New health initiative started in the last month or so to improve... sleep."

The Jedi general crosses his arms over his chest. "And nobody told me?"

"I suppose they thought the label on the pot sufficed."

He glances over at the caff machine and, in fact, there is a label reading DECAF. Fair enough. He looks back at Rex, who is passively amused by all of this.

"Kix has too much power. It's going to go to his head."

Rex smiles, shaking his head but not disagreeing. Now disgusted by his caff, the knight casts aside the half-empty cup. The lack of caffeine definitely explains why he is still so tired.

"I should be going to prep for the morning briefing, then," Rex says, standing up and grabbing his bucket from the bench. He downs the remainder of his coffee and tucks his helmet under his arms. "Thanks for the company, though, general."

"Anytime. I suppose I will see you at the update."

"Oh right," Rex says, pausing and looking back down at him. "I have messages for you. General Kenobi commed to let you know they have postponed the update meeting to tomorrow. And we will be in hyperspace another full day before arriving at our check-in point."

He does the mental gymnastics of cycling through his schedule and realizes his entire day is clear of meetings. A day off? That is about as rare as Ahsoka not being snippy. He even has his paperwork done now so...

"Well in that case, maybe I will take the decaf as a sign and... take a nap." He can feel his mind more clear now. Usually, that means he can manage a few good hours without another nightmare if he has any at all. Though he was adamant about not wanting to go back to bed a few hours ago, suddenly laying down sounds amazing.

Rex smiles. "Very good, sir. I will be sure to comm you if we need anything, of course."

The clone captain walks off, and Anakin looks around at his little collection of trash, tired and a little dumbfounded.

He has a sudden suspicious feeling Ahsoka hasn't been tattling to Obi-Wan, but to Rex. Anakin smiles to himself, shakes his head, and gathers up his things to go back for some extra shut-eye.

__________

When Ahsoka can't sleep, she pulls her old Jedi cloak out of her closet. It's not something she wears anymore-- not for a long time at this point-- but it is something she has kept close to her ever since going on the run from the Empire.

There is just something about that thick, wooly fabric that is like a security blanket when she encases herself in it. It still smells like a mix of the standard-issue laundry detergent and engine oil. She can run her fingers along the hem, recognizing the familiar fray on the right sleeve that she used to pick at when she was nervous, or the hole that Master Kenobi had to patch three separate times in the pocket. There is a burnt edge on the hood where Anakin managed to nick it with his saber, and sometimes the tip of her montral would peek out.

Today she can't sleep, and she isn't sure why. Sometimes, she has these periods of time where falling asleep and staying asleep are more difficult than they should be. She suspects it has something to do with stress, which she has plenty of, all the time. The cloak always seems to help, so she grabs it. It always reminds her of Master Obi-Wan and his habit of losing his own cloaks. When she pulls it around herself it feels like a hug from Anakin. And when she closes her eyes she pretends she is in another time and another place. A time when her mentors watched over her and protected her and she wasn't so alone.

A part of her thinks that somewhere in the Force they are still looking over her. It is a Jedi teaching that she still holds a belief in that in death all are returned to the Force... Which means the same energy field that surrounds her and binds her is Anakin Skywalker. Obi-Wan Kenobi. Plo Koon. Every other Jedi that didn't make it through Order 66. Though the thought of their deaths brings a deep sadness she still cannot quite process, it also reminds her that when she wraps the Force around herself she isn't as alone as she feels. Sleep comes easier.

[weatheredpileoftomes]

unmended

For FFxivWrite2021 Day 8, “adroit”. Mid-Shadowbringers but end-of-5.0 spoilers, about 1100 words. This is gen like Shadowbringers itself is gen.

Emet-Selch observes the Warrior of Light, and considers.

“What do you think?” Minfilia dips a spoon into the pot dangling from their improvised roadside stove and holds it out to Frydlona.

Frydlona takes it as if they have no more serious considerations than the composition of their rations, quite as if her soul is not already brightening with the promise of the next rejoining. She tastes it, then closes her eyes as if she is listening to something other than the twittering of birds and the droning of insects: as if the food itself is a song in her mouth, and she needs only to separate its tones to blend them in better harmony.

Something is bothering Emet-Selch about this hero. Oh, it isn’t just her dogged optimism and her ignorant loyalty to the shards that inhabit this pitiful, broken star—though that would be enough to drive any reasoning person to distraction. It is…

He cannot, exactly, define it. That is an experience worth being bothered about, as well.

“It’s good,” Frydlona says, giving Minfilia a smile.

“Oh, good.” Minfilia sits carefully on a log, her dress practically gleaming. A pretty little harbinger of Light—say what one will about Vauthry, and Emet-Selch is happy to, he nevertheless employs excellent tailors. Minfilia harmonizes pleasantly enough with the landscape. “Thancred doesn’t really care what he eats, and Urianger doesn’t really notice what he eats, so I’m very glad this is all right.”

“I’m sure it’ll be wonderful,” Alphinaud tells her.

He is irrelevant, and so are the rest of the shades. Emet-Selch goes on considering Frydlona. The barbaric draperies she has chosen to costume herself in are a clever piece of design; it would please her to know Emet-Selch thinks so, and so he will be sure not to tell her. He might tell her they flatter her, which is true but will please neither her nor the Exarch—so determined to keep his Warrior of Darkness away from the terrible Ascian’s influence and yet so helpfully gift-wrapping her and the rest of the First for delivery. Perhaps Emet-Selch should wait, not until he next makes himself visible to the Warrior of Light and her unmerry band, but until the Exarch is there as well.

“Speaking of Urianger,” Frydlona says, turning to the man in question, “you tore your robe while we were fighting that leshy or whatever it was earlier.”

“Ah, forsooth.” Urianger considers the skirts of his robe, and Emet-Selch does as well. It is nearly as dark as Frydlona’s, but with far less of a suggestion that its wearer is prepared to kick one in the face. “If it is not an imposition on thee, wouldst—”

Frydlona has already turned away from him to rummage through the pockets of her traveling bag. “Go on.”

Urianger rises and disappears into one of the tents. In his absence, Frydlona quickly unearths a leather envelope, a cloth bag, and a small metal box with a close-fitting lid. Whatever is in the box rattles faintly, as if muffled. By the time Urianger returns, in a singularly unflattering nightshirt with his robe neatly folded in his hands, Frydlona has spread a piece of canvas on the ground and seated herself cross-legged with her tools within easy reach.

It is a quick performance. Emet-Selch had few dealings with the backstage side of any theatrical companies, but he suspects them of a similar rush to mend.

The leather envelope contains a smaller strip of leather pierced by needles, as well as a pair of shears and several small pairs of…two of them appear to be pliers of some sort, and one looks like an unusually fierce nail-clipper. One could improvise a reasonable torturer’s kit from Frydlona’s tools, if one had to.

Frydlona shakes out the robe, mapping the tear first on the right side and then on the wrong side. “One of the chains got broken, too. They’re not magicked themselves, are they?” She rests her fingertips lightly on one of the dangling baubles, eyes distant. “The ones on the belt, I mean; I know your jewelry is.”

���Nay,” Urianger says. “Yonder ornaments serve merely to focus the mind and elevate the spirit.”

She nods and opens her bag, from which she produces a pincushion and a spool of black thread. They are on the side of the road in Lakeland, with monsters in every direction and the Rak’tika Greatwood a broad smudge near the horizon, but she pins the tear together as calmly as if she were still at the Crystarium, or even on the Source. When she has finished, she checks it: wrong side, then right side.

Something about her satisfied nod bothers Emet-Selch again; certainly something about her focus, not as she threads her needle but after, while she makes deft minute stitches in the unfailing light. He has seen seamstresses work faster than she, and better; she is hardly unique, except for…something in the way she looks at the seam.

Something in the way—after she has finished mending the cloth and removed the pins, and checked the drape of the skirts again, and nodded again with a sweeter satisfaction—she turns to the jeweled chains. This, it seems, is what the rest of her little torture devices were for; the metal box contains wire and links and more gewgaws. She makes her choice as quickly and unhesitatingly as she had pinned the skirt, quite as if she had never considered that most shards dedicate what little talent they have been left with to a single skill.

Still she works as if she is gathering music between her hands, as if jewelry and cloth are just further chords in that song and mending them can set the dissonance aright. Foolishness. Utter folly. Finally, Emet-Selch cannot stand to watch it any more.

“So much effort, for such brittle objects,” he sneers, allowing them to see him at last.

Alisaie jumps up, already shouting. Thancred is on his feet as well.

Frydlona twists the last loop of wire closed before she says, “We do the best we can.” Her voice is flat and without warmth; whatever song only she was hearing as she made her repairs, she is hardly sharing it now.

Good. As it should be. Emet-Selch has other things to do, and takes himself off to do them, leaving Alisaie’s furious imprecations and whatever other assertions Frydlona might think are clever behind.