#he gets 2 seconds of freedom and he's rolling around in the mud drinking with a man his father's age looking for head pats

[worstloki]

they're brothers

#im constantly thinking about how Thor dresses down the second he's getting off Asgard #he's like oh? Odin and Frigga aren't going to be around? *rips off sleeves* #like #Thor's got strict parent complex #he gets 2 seconds of freedom and he's rolling around in the mud drinking with a man his father's age looking for head pats #please #don't even ASK me about fanon Loki idk what's up with that canon Loki has yet to show off his wrists the Loki show is fake and this is why

[sapphicunicorn]

[MonHun] Raging Flames and Dancing Swords - 1,731 words

It's been three days of chasing a single Glavenus. Tavia's tired, hungry, and wants a bath. She wants to go back to her own solo hunts but she also really wants her cut of the reward. All she has to do is cut off the tail. Simple, right?

More exploration of Tavia and Ryiel, my girls I've been building since Tri/4. Have some action! (The villages of Aquarin and Sleat don't exist, I made them up, but the Hinmerun Mountains exist in the Schrade Region!)

Part 1 of 3 (parts 2 & 3 will be posted on AO3 & FFnet and linked here!)

Tavia threw fresh twigs into the coals of last night’s fire and stoked the embers. Smoke mixed with the early morning mist, tickling her eyes and nose. Her stomach rolled with hunger after yesterday’s hike. They’d thrown up their tents and fell over with exhaustion before they could decide an order for the nightly watch.

Thankfully today was the last day of the hunt.

[Read on ao3 || ffnet || under the cut]

The party had followed the Glavenus for two days, trading blows and cautiously letting it escape across the mountain forests, chasing it further from the nearby village. It was exhausted, the spines along its back broken, a substantial gash in its side where their gunlancer broke through thick plates. All the party had to do was follow the line of broken trees and blood, pushing it from its desperate meals until it settled into a well hidden nest.

The party leader sent a letter for a guild rep yesterday. If everything went according to plan, they could load up the corpse and collect their handsome reward before the sun set.

Tavia just had to slice off the tail. Simple.

She stirred up the fire until it swallowed the twigs, lively and warm, before settling down to her rations. She missed Guild-sanctioned camps and the fully stocked canteen. Starting her morning without eggs and a hot drink was no morning she wanted to face, but here she was, the first of the party to rise.

Clouds speckled the lilac sky, distant birds making themselves known with noisy clarity. Tavia swatted at the bugs that whined around her ears and took another bite of her rations.

Tavia hated nature. She hated dry salted meat. But today was the last day.

Behind her, a tent flap ruffled and the gunlancer stepped out, fully armored except his helmet, and stretched his arms wide. Taking a deep breath of the crisp air, he groaned as his bones popped and ran his hands through his short gray hair.

“Ah, just when I think I’m getting too old for this, we get a view like that.” He nodded towards the horizon, the hilltops and trees covered with mist and haloed by the rising sun.

“I’d trade it for a sturdy roof over my head,” Tavia said. Two days of traveling and fighting and she still didn’t know her team by name; no one seemed offended that when she did address them, it was by their weapon. “Give me a rundown tavern with watery ale and lice in the beds over this outdoor living any day.”

“You city-dwellers are all the same. You’d trade your freedom for those walls, eh?”

Tavia spit a chunk of gristle into the fire; it spit and hissed like an angry cat. “Maybe not that far, but walls are better than wide open spaces. Anything can show up in a spot like this.”

“That’s why we sit watch.” He frowned, his eyes searching around their paltry campsite. “Speaking of, where’s Royse?”

Tavia shrugged, not entirely sure which member had last watch. Did she even take a shift? A hazy part of her remembered leaning against a tree, her knife across her lap and her long sword on the ground beside her. Did someone switch with her? She barely remembered crawling out of her tent. She only remembered hunger.

“Beats me,” Tavia said. “We seem to have made it through the night, though. Unless this is all some ugly nightmare.”

The gunlancer looked up suddenly and Tavia held her breath, strained her ears. Did a predator sneak up? No. Somewhere in the distance was the clatter of cart wheels and hooves, and the raspy singing of felynes.

The gunlancer smiled, his lined face suddenly youthful. “Nah, it’s a dream come true. I’ll get the rest of ‘em up.”

He disappeared into the other two tents and it wasn’t long before the other members of the party stumbled out. The party leader—a gunner as old, but not as gray, as the gunlancer—rubbed his bald head as he sucked on a strip of jerky. The hammer user—a woman with biceps bigger than Tavia’s—sat across the fire and began to rebraid her hair.

The Guild cart was pulled by a small team of anteka; three energetic felynes bounced in the back, their paws waving wildly as their song came to an end. Beside the cart, dressed in blinding white and red, the Guild representative walked with her nose in a book. If it was anyone else, Tavia would claim it was impossible to hike and read at the same—but this was Ryiel. For her, it was expected.

Ryiel glanced up and waved with a smile. Tavia’s heart fluttered, her ration nearly stuck in her throat. Coming up the hillside, Ryiel looked like a dream. Her uniform was spotless, cap still straight on her head, not a single golden thread on her capelet snagged after hiking. Her dark skin was dewey, her black eyes sparkling as she tucked one of her microbraids behind her ear.

Meanwhile Tavia was in her underclothes, sweat baked into the fibers from two days of fighting, her milky skin crusted with mud, greasy red hair stuck to her head. She smelled like a Congalala’s backside.

Not exactly the way she wanted to meet Ryiel again, but if Tavia was being honest, she didn’t expect to ever see Ryiel out in the wilderness. Tavia had found her plenty of times inside Dundorma or small towns, and Tavia often spent too much time searching for her only to find her bent over reports and books. More than twice, Tavia enticed Ryiel out of her bookish den for dinner and drinks.

But Tavia was intentionally dressed up for those occasions. She did her best to seduce the Guild girl who was known for her meticulous reporting, her always tidy appearance. What would Ryiel think of her now?

The leader stepped forward to greet the Guild representative. She traded her small book with a large leather-bound journal from her rucksack and opened to a marked page.

“This is the party of Emil, Royse, and Tavia, led by Marco, correct?” Ryiel asked. Her soft voice sent chills down Tavia’s spine.

“That’s us, ma’am,” the bald leader, Marco, said. “We’ve got the Glavenus a few miles west from here.”

“Already dead?”

“We’re putting it down today and hope to deliver the tail to the village chief.”

Ryiel consulted her journal again. “‘The village of Aquarin requests the removal of one Glavenus endangering the vicinity. Reward requirements include hunting the aforementioned monster and presenting the tail at the village; the hunter, hunting party, or Guild may choose what to do with the corpse,’” she read. “Is someone claiming the body?”

“I am,” said the hammer user. “Got a blacksmith willing to make me some new armor if I bring it in.”

No one discussed the specifics with Tavia. Thankfully she wasn’t shopping for new weapons or armor. She just wanted the money.

Ryiel pulled a pencil from under her cap and made a few marks in the journal. She smiled with satisfaction at Marco. “Excellent. Should I wait here until you’re finished?”

“It should be safe enough,” Marco said. “We’ve been trying to push it away from the village so I can’t see it doubling back this way.”

“I can stay behind if things go wrong,” the gunlancer said.

“Emil, come on, you know—”

“I can take care of myself just fine,” Ryiel said with a wicked smile. She motioned to the felynes still bouncing in the cart. “Don’t worry about us. Focus on your hunt and we’ll approach when you’re ready to load up.”

Marco looked over the party, his apprehension plain on his face.

Tavia knew from experience that Guild representatives weren’t pushovers; while some hunters traded the field for paper, other Guild reps were washouts from training, people who couldn’t make the leap from greenhorn to officially licensed. Everyone who worked within the Guild had some sort of weapons training.

And Tavia happened to know a bit more about Ryiel’s experience than she wanted to share.

“Let’s just get it done,” the hammer user said. “My feet hurt and I’m ready to soak in a hot bath.”

“Seconded,” said Tavia. She stood and stretched out her back. “It’s probably slept less than we have and it’s definitely lost more blood than us. Should be an easy target.”

“Alright, alright,” Marco sighed. He went towards his tent. “Let’s suit up and get moving.”

The gunlancer—what was his name, Emil?—was the only one in armor and was already tearing down his tent. The hammer user—her name must have been Royse—jumped up, her green hair now in a single braid, and entered her tent to dress. After Emil rolled up his tent, he offered to collect some firewood for Ryiel, in case the hunt went longer than expected, and disappeared into the forest.

It was just Tavia and Ryiel near the fire.

Tavia’s palms itched to reach out and stroke Ryiel’s face, but her hands were filthy, blood and dirt caked under her nails. And maybe Ryiel wouldn’t appreciate the touch, anyway. They were still new to each other. In Ryiel’s own words they weren’t official . . . yet.

Ryiel offered a dazzling grin that sent Tavia’s heart racing. “I hoped it was you,” she said quietly. She kept her distance from Tavia but it wasn’t cold, just professional. For a quick moment it looked like she wanted to lean into Tavia—and then she was gone, turning away towards the cart and unhooking the anteka. The felynes crawled off the cart and circled the fire.

“It’s good to see you, Ryiel,” Tavia said. That was safe enough. “I didn’t know you came out on the field.”

“I go wherever the Guild needs me. You wouldn’t know it by looking, but I actually know my way around the Hinmerun Mountains very well.”

“Am I going to hear the story behind that one?” Tavia asked. She loved to listen to Ryiel talk about herself, but Tavia still didn’t know where she came from or how she came to the Guild. Tavia had already spilled her simple story; hers was boring, easy. Ryiel made her beginnings seem mysterious.

Ryiel winked, a finger held up in front of her lips. “Maybe one day. You better get dressed for battle first. Happy hunting today.”

#monster hunter #fanfiction #fanfic #monhun #writeblr #amwriting #monster hunter oc #wlw #short fiction

[knamjooned]

Magicae Foresta (2)

pairing: (forest)dragon!namjoon x (unpracticed)witch!reader

genre: magic/supernatural au, shifter au, fluff, angst, smut, soulmate au

chapter words: 2,267

chapter warnings: mention of death

chapter rating: PG

STORY SUMMARY: The magical world your grandmother told you about had always been real to you. Once she passed away, you find yourself honoring her memory by searching for the one magical creature she could never find.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: You spend time with the hummingbird shifter, Hoseok, and learn a bit more about their world.

TWO

The most friendly creature I have met in these woods is Hoseok. He is a shifter and his animal form is a hummingbird. Full of life and kindness, I know if I need something he will do his best to help me. I hope he finds what he is looking for in life, though. Underneath that sunshine is a bit of clouds. He can’t hide that from me.

You continued to read the entry, making sure you understood the place she was describing. This was where Hoseok could be found. He was your first stop for information about the old dragon. You had found the bright red flowers, Lobelia cardinalis or Red Cardinal Flowers, which was listed as his favorite. This was the largest spread, so he would most likely be here.

It was dawn of your second day in the woods, the favorite time for hummingbirds to drink the sweet nectar that kept them so energized. After a few moments of sitting on the naturally fallen tree trunk, you heard the leaves shaking as someone approached the spread of Red Cardinal. Standing you turned fully to face whoever was coming. He froze in place, staring at you with curious eyes. 

“Hi. Er, hello. I’m ____, Silvia’s granddaughter?”

“Oh! You’re the Magic Mother’s successor!” He hurried toward you as other hummingbirds flurried into the area. The birds’ wings hummed as they circled you in excitement. Hoseok took your hands. “I’m Hoseok.”

“I know,” you laughed, the joy of life spreading from his presence into yours. It was hard not to smile and feel at ease. You pulled back and bent down, grabbing the journal. Holding it up, you continued. “She wrote about her time here.”

“Of course Miss Silvia did,” Hoseok murmured, chuckling. He looked at the birds moving about them. He waved them away. “Go head, I know you’re hungry.”

You watched with wide eyes as they all transformed into their human forms, completely naked. You dropped the book and covered your eyes with both hands quickly. Hoseok found it hilarious, snorting as he took your shoulders and turned you away from the group.

“They’ll get dressed before we eat,” he assured you. You lowered your hands and let out a sigh of relief. “Is that usual, shifting into human form without clothes?”

“Yes, unfortunately. Since we’ve been interacting with humans more often, we’ve made a point to wear clothing when in that form. We each have a small bag we wear when we transform. The Magic Mother actually made it for us, allowing it to grow and shrink with our body sizes.”

“She did mention it, but only once or twice.” You frowned, wanting to know more about the process of making such an item. You took a deep breath before changing to the topic you had initial wanted to ask. “I’m looking for the dragon.”

“Oh, really?” Hoseok chuckled at that, waving it off like no big deal. He was searching the bag, which was hanging on his shoulder by a strap. You frowned. He glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw it. Immediately, he stopped looking for whatever it was and looked fully at you. “Everyone is looking for the dragon, Miss _____. No one finds him. He finds you.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“Sometimes.” You waited for him to elaborate as he went back to his bag. Hoseok pulled out a thin gold chain with a gold band hanging on it. He raised his brows toward her as he clipped it around his neck. “It’s not my place to tell you where he is. His privacy is extremely important to him, as well as respect.”

“Okay, so how do I get his respect? I need him to teach me.”

“Teach you?” Hoseok frowned in confusion, hands on his hips. “Teach you what?”

“Magic. Tata was gone before I asked her about my powers. What to do with them. He’s an old dragon, he has to be pretty knowledgeable.”

“He’s the most intelligent creature I know,” Hoseok murmured. Letting out a big sigh, he stared at you as he thought for a long moment. “Okay. I’ll tell you what I can do. I’ll be speaking to him in two days. I’ll tell him you’re here, and if he’s interested, he’ll find you.”

“That would be very helpful,” you said slowly, holding your excitement at bay. 

“Good!” Hoseok clapped his hands and gestured behind you. You turned and saw the group of shifters, now clothed, sitting among the flowers sharing food. “Would you like to join us?”

Namjoon felt Jungkook’s presence before the honeybee was spotted landing on the edge of his tea mug placed on the table. Raising an eyebrow, Namjoon leaned back in his kitchen chair. 

“How’d you get in?” The insect buzzed away from the mug and transformed into his human form. Namjoon waited patiently as the young man quickly put on sweatpants and a t-shirt.

“This is so inconvenient,” Jungkook muttered, frowning down at himself. Namjoon chuckled, agreeing with the sentiment. Still, it’s what they had to get used to doing to survive when they were around humans. Jungkook looked at the dragon and bowed his head respectfully. Namjoon lifted his cup in response, then took a sip. “The window into the washroom seemed to be open a crack.”

“I knew I forgot something,” Namjoon replied. He had been cleaning the mud tracks in there, and opened the window just enough to circulate the air. “Sit, would you like some tea?”

“No, thanks,” Jungkook answered, sitting in the only other chair at the kitchen table. He dug into his sack and pulled out a plain white envelope. “Here is the time and place for the gathering.”

“Thanks.” Namjoon took the envelope from the bee shifter, opened it, and took out the sheet of information. It didn’t take long for him to scan over the handwritten note from Yoongi. He placed the sheet on the table with the envelope, then looked at Jungkook. “How’s married life?”

“Fantastic!” He grinned, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. Namjoon immediately noticed the soft look in his eyes as his queen popped into his mind. The dragon grinned, feeling the waves of love and happiness roll off the young man. “Minji is just… I still can’t believe she picked me! Out of all the others….”

“You’re mates, my friend, assigned by the Great One. But the emotions are all your own. You look very happy.”

“I am.” Jungkook stood and stretched his arms over his head, yawning. “Now, back to my queen. We have heirs to produce!” He laughed with a gleam in his eyes as he decided to go through the door instead of transforming. Namjoon watched Jungkook whistle a tune as he strolled out of the cabin. He would most likely take the grassy path from Namjoon’s place toward the main vein of dirt paths made throughout the forest.

“Love,” he murmured, letting out a large sigh. Namjoon stared at the empty chair across the table. After almost two centuries, would he experience it? Though he preferred to be alone, he would go into the human world for lovers every so often. Even a solitary dragon like himself needed physical comfort sometime. None of them had been more than a warm bed and a pleasurable night. None of them had even known what he truly was.

He stood, washed his mug, then went to the washroom to make sure the window was securely shut. Namjoon went over his to-do list for the day: weed the gardens and restock the kitchen. His magic abilities made it easy to clear out the unwanted plants, but restocking the kitchen meant going into the human world for a few hours.

He had a good stash of money from selling flowers and herbs at the local fresh market every Saturday, which meant he could get the best meats offered.

You stayed with the hummingbird shifters for the night, setting up your tent as the sun finished setting. The small campfire you made amused Hoseok, as you hadn’t used any magic to do it. As the stars started to twinkle in the sky, visible between the branches, Hoseok and his shifters started to turn back into their animal forms for rest. Before he could, though, you asked him a question that had been on your mind the whole evening.

“The band you wear, what does it mean?”

He was silent, staring into the flames. You two were alone now, the others comfortably in their nests. You waited patiently, not wanting to push if he didn’t want to tell you. Hoseok took a deep breath, the usual cheerful smile falling into a deep frown.

“My kind, the hummingbirds, value their freedom, their independence. We make the most of life. We tend to prefer being free rather than tied to a partner,” he added with a short chuckle. “But, the Great One decided I would be different. Maybe because I’m the leader, or maybe I was just a random choice.”

“Oh,” you breathed, starting to understand. 

“I fell in love with a human. Long story short, we planned our lives together. They eventually found out about my shifter abilities, but didn’t care. Unfortunately, they became sick. We never got the chance….” Hoseok swallowed with tears in his eyes. “They bought me this just before the Great One took them.”

“I didn’t mean to bring about sad memories.” 

“No worries, friend. I look upon those memories with fondness. I’m glad I could share a little about them with you.”

After a restful sleep, you woke, wrapped in a warm blanket you carried in your pack. The tent had just enough room for you to stretch as your mind slowly began to leave your dreams. As you made to get up, you heard an unknown male voice just outside your shelter. 

“Wait, she wants to what?” 

“She wants Namjoon to teach her magic,” Hoseok answered.

“Are you sure she’s the Magic Mother’s successor?” a second known male voice asked skeptically.

“She is, Jimin. I felt it, as well as her being Miss Silvia’s granddaughter.”

At this time, you had dressed and decided to exit the tent. Hoseok stood with two other men, and flushed with embarrassment as they realized you had probably heard their conversation. You smiled, though, and started to take down your shelter.

“I’m _____. You are?”

“Jungkook.” A young man with dark hair and a playful grin bowed his head lightly. You acknowledged him with a nod of your own.

“Are you a shifter?”

“A honeybee,” he answered proudly, lifting his chin.

“Married to Queen Minji,” Hoseok interjected, grinning widely. Jungkook’s face flushed with happiness, obviously in love with his wife. As the tent lay disassembled on the ground, you glanced at the other, shorter man. You began to fold the material in a specific way as to put it in your pack.

“And you?”

“Jimin,” he answered, licking his lip nervously. He looked at Hoseok, who nodded and then brought his gaze back to you. He sent you a shy smile. “I’m a mouse shifter.”

“Nice to meet you, Jimin, Jungkook.”

After all your things were tucked into your pack, you put your arms through the straps and began to prepare to make your way further down the almost hidden path. It was mostly flattened grass, which you assumed was made by the creatures living here.

“Are you not staying another night? I told you I’d speak to Namjoon tomorrow.” Hoseok looked surprised as you said goodbye to all the shifters near you. You glanced at him with a smile as you strolled onto the path. 

“No matter where I am, he’ll find me if he wants to, right?”

“She’s right,” Jungkook murmured, raising his eyebrows toward Hoseok. Jimin lifted a hand and waved with a smile as you nodded and headed out into the trees. It was early morning, the birds chirping and the smell of sweet flora in the air. You wondered which creature was just an animal of the forest or a being made of some form of magic. You saw a few creatures you thought might have been dryads and fairies. 

In the late morning, you caught the glance of a large horse-like creature with a horn in the middle of his forehead. When you turned to stare in awe, the unicorn tossed his mane and moved further into the trees. You waited a moment to see if the unicorn would come back, but nothing appeared. Sighing with disappointment, you turned back in the direction you were going, stepping lightly down the pathway.

When the sun hit its highest point, you stumbled upon a cabin, with a porch from on side of the front to the other. It was a surprise, going from just trees to a suddenly clearing large enough for the home and a small garden. For a moment, you stared, taking it in. It was a simple place, made of wood with a bit of moss growing over it. There were sparkling chimes hanging along the edge of the roof, the noise tinkling pleasantly through the air.

You marched toward the porch steps, but suddenly was blocked by an invisible force. You frowned, placing you hand on it. It was solid but clear. You tapped on it with a finger, then pushed with both hands. Nothing happened. Grunting with frustration, you kept your hand on the invisible wall and followed it around the home back to where you started.

Someone didn’t want anyone coming in.

#hyunglinenetwork #btsguild #btswriterscollective #bangtanhq #namjoon x reader #m: namjoon #t: fic #fic: namjoon #fic: magicae foresta

[pernatius]

Lost in Space Part 6: Ch 2

Ch 1

Summary: With the fate of the universe resting in her hands, an unnamed Space Explorer and Saamuki first must find Syco to get back their friends.

Lost in Space on Tumblr

Lost in Space on ao3

A swig of alcohol later and Saamuki throws the curtains open and storms out of there with me trying to catch up. Somehow with being both tipsy and shorter than me she’s able to make quite a distance. As I try to catch my breath in front of the pacing Saamuki, I curiously pressed, “What’s up north?”

It takes her a moment to answer, either because she faded me out or that she’s no longer sober, “Big festival. Definitely not for me. Explains why this planet has become a ghost planet.”

“But Sakhra is there. Isn’t he? We have to go.”

“I know. I know we do, but why did this have to happen today? Ugh. Okay. Let me just compose myself. Give me a moment.” A few, long breaths and her talking to herself, a long awkward moment of me looking at the sand around us, and she’s leading me to where the festival is. It was several lengthy, empty roads and alleyways, and me having to hold my breath because three of them were a tight squeeze. At least the trip wasn’t as long as the labyrinth underneath Cabelo’s hotel and I had actual scenery rather than dusty, muddy bricks with some sort of greenish substance. They were structures. They were buildings. They were homes. It was interesting to see how these people lived because as I said before they are just like anyone else. They lived like how any other person would live in these conditions. Some homes were five-stories. Most were either one- or two-stories. Each held a different shape. There were ones with a round roof, others had the classic triangular roof and some were super creative by going the extra mile of concave roofs. Each held a different personality that probably represented their owners. All were made out of a mixture of rock and mud. By the time we reached the outskirts of the town, we were greeted by the mouth of a small cave that sloped downward at about a forty-five-degree angle. Swinging the staff across the gaping darkness, I see another hole shooting straight down. “It’s up north then down south,” I commented. 

She turns to me, revealing a blush, and laughs. Saamuki laughs like it’s actually funny. Like it’s the best joke she’s ever heard before. I’m not a comedian as I have a poor sense of humor, so I know it wasn’t funny at all. She wipes away her tears of joy before nudging me to head in with her. 

The ladder wasn’t cold. It didn’t feel like it was never going to end, but I still struggled to keep my grip because of all the dirt and mud sticking onto it. By the time we hop off, I note the lanterns hanging along the walls of the cave and the stream, which has a golden glow because of the lights above, between us as I shake off the mess on my hands. That feeling I always get when something bad is about to happen hits me. I don’t hesitate to point the staff in front of me, but Saamuki doesn’t hesitate to go on ahead. I follow her with my grip tightened with a bit of hesitation in my footsteps. 

When Saamuki said big she really meant big. It was packed. It was as if twice as many people who were usually at the flea market were all in here, stuffed in the cave. Although, calling it a festival is an understatement. You’d assume it would be a celebration filled with merriment like laughter and smiles, but nope. Everyone in here is unusually, eerily quiet with their heads down underneath a thick, black robe. We were the outliers, but no one paid any mind to us. They remained pointed forward. Pointed forward at what I had no idea. The tallest seemed to be standing in the back, unintentionally making an unwavering wall. Saamuki grumbles and looks around. She then takes my hand and leads me to one of the only open spots in this place. “This will take a bit,” she explained to me. 

Because of all the crampedness, it felt like a sauna. I tugged my collar, hoping some cold air would shimmy down underneath and cool my sweating chest. It did, but not as much as I hoped. 

A figure stepped onto a makeshift podium. “It’s been six months since we placed that torch. It’s been six months since her murder. She was killed by a Space Pirate. She was one of our own. No, she was one of the greatest among us, yet they’ve forgotten about her.” Getting who he was talking about, I take a glance at the lip-biting Saamuki. “Brothers and Sisters, they have let us live, or so they would like us to believe. They claim it’s for balance. Well, that balance is shifting. It’s becoming clear that they’re no longer needed. It is only a matter of time before the Lords come looking for our children, our lovers, and ourselves. They’re killing us off one by one, yet it is only now we take notice. For centuries we have been their lackeys, their slaves. We’ve always done their dirty work. We never questioned once because we were blinded by the gifts, the freedom. No longer shall we live this way. No longer shall we let them control us. True freedom is not one built on fear. Brothers and sisters, it is time we rise. The time is now. There is no better time than now. Their most precious pets are at war with each other as we speak.”

“Brother, they will listen to us for some things, but not for this. They will massacre all of us within a blink of an eye,” a voice from the crowd replied. 

“Sister, what are rulers without followers? A hundred of us they will slaughter without a thought, but thousands of us is a different story. One voice is a whisper. Ten voices is a mutter. A hundred is heard, but not listened to. A thousand is a call to action.”

Another voice from the crowd countered, “Even if we wanted to, brother, we don’t have the supplies to stage such a theatrical war and we especially don’t have the manpower. Most of us are well over the age of action. This includes you, brother. Besides, we can’t just leave our children unattended if all goes south.”

“That is true, brother, but that’s why I ask for all of you to bury down your pride and seek the help of the public. Billions of voices can not be unheard. Brothers and sisters, it is time we act before it’s too late. They are feared because we let them be feared. We feed into the power they have, but power is a belief. It cannot be touched, but it can be broken. You and many others in this room know that is true.” 

A wave of whispers and hushes filled the room. A voice broke through the sound with a shout. Anger then erupted. Arguments had awakened. Then, as quickly as it came it all quieted. Silence filled the room. A single, familiar-looking hand is then raised. Everyone around eyed him. The owner of the hand had spoken, “I will join the cause that affects all of us, brother. I stand by your offer without any hesitation.”

“Classic Sakhra,” Saamuki mumbled with a smirk and a still blushing face. 

Of course, when one person confidently makes their voice heard then others are bound to join in. One by one everyone in the room is recruited. The last one to raise their hand, with what I think is an eye roll and an exaggerated swinging of his arm, is the man that tried deterring the announcer. 

The announcer started again, “With that settled, let us drink.” Everyone cheered and Saamuki turned around and covered her ears. Right when I’m about to question what had gotten her so disgusted with what’s just a town hall meeting, two cloaked figures threw a tied up, whimpering body in front of the announcer. The body couldn’t be any younger than the other prisoner on the Trauvox ship. Whoever this new character is clearly has seen war. They’re wearing a ripped, navy blue uniform and a tad of white with bloodstains. Purple spots have grown over where blood has been splattered. What was once pure white has now turned into a pinkish handkerchief. Their puffy pants, which are mostly tucked into their knee-high, dark brown boots, have battle scars of their own. Tears and scratches have made their name on them as well. The announcer bends down. “Speak, child. Let your voice be heard,” he continued.

The soldier doesn’t even take a glance at the man above him. Instead, they try to struggle free. Clearly, they’re outnumbered. If they were to loosen the rope tying them down just enough for at least one of their arms to be free they’d be welcomed to an onslaught of getting their ass beat by hundreds. They’re weaponless, I need to add. I don’t know what sort of training they’ve gone through, but it didn’t train their common sense. Maybe the type of training they went through suppressed it to outweigh honor. Maybe they’d rather die fighting than be at the announcer's mercy. Maybe it’s just the youth talking. 

Because they failed to answer, the announcer gets up and slams his foot into the soldier’s chest. I hear the sounds of ribs cracking as the soldier cries and spits out blood. My knuckles turned white because of how tight my grip on the staff has become. I try fighting myself. I want to go and help him. It sickened me seeing this type of excessive treatment, but at the same time, I know that doing so would probably get me to wind up like him. Saamuki tells me, “I know, but it’ll be all over soon. Just wait.”

He’s beaten—bloody nose and teeth, a split lip, and twitching hands. He stammers out as his collar is about to give in from underneath the clutch of the announcer’s hand, “B-Battalion five. I’m from battalion five of Quadrant Forty. I’m just a private. P-Please, have mercy.”

With that, the collar gives in. The private falls with a hard thud. Again, the announcer lowers. This time the private flinches when he speaks. “Ah, now was that so hard?” The beaten, young soldier shakes his head. “Good, but, unfortunately, it took you this long for you to crack. Most last far longer. One lasted a whole week. His lips remained shut even as we ripped each of his nails. Although, and of course, I didn’t beat him for every second that week. Even we get tired of torturing, but you’re just a private. Still, you’ve given your life to the Lords and that means you represent fascism.”

“If you want intel I don’t have any. They don’t tell us anything.”

“Yes, I already know, but that’s not why you’re here before us. Also, I didn’t ask you to speak.” The announcer slaps the soldier right across his face. A tooth is shot out and rolls off the podium and into the crowd. “You’re here to honor a friend’s six month death anniversary.”

His torturer moves his hand into his cloak and pierces a dagger into the soldier's stomach. Forcing the blade to go right through the soldier, the soldier gags and starts shaking. Then, he returns to screaming when the weapon is slid upwards. When my eyes meet with his guts and especially a beating heart, that’s when I gag. As blood is sprayed out and his organs topple to the floor, the announcer kicks him into the crowd. They pile on top of him and in the most horrific way to die they feast on the barely living, young man. Saamuki throws up with her back still turned to what now appears to be a cult. The announcer licks the soldier’s blood off of his hands and then his weapon as his followers rip right through and consume the private. It’s as if they haven’t eaten in days. It’s as if they’re wild animals rather than people. My insides are empty, yet I feel like I still have something to puke up. At least it didn’t last for long, but I, unfortunately, learned why Saamuki was so hesitant to come here. 

#205 #lost in space #writers on tumblr #writers #writeblr #creative writing #my writing #spilled ink #fiction #scifi #wlw #space

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Sango Pt 3 - Thranduil Prompt Request

Pt 1 - Pt 2 -

Tags -

@himoverflowers​, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator​, @sweeticedtea​, @ggbbhehe4455​, @thegreyberet​, @patanghill17​, @jesgisborne​, @curvestrology​, @alishlieb​, @abiwim​, @jotink78,  @evyiione, @sweetlytenacious25  

348 “Are you SURE I can’t punch him in the face?” “Yes.” “What if I break his nose a little?”

3 “Right now, I don’t know if I want to kiss you or shove you off a bridge” “Can I pick?”

4 “You know what they say, panicking burns a shit-ton of calories.” “Who even says that?” “Me. Just now.”

28 “Sometimes, memories are the worst torture.”

214 “Please, just… touch me.” 

…

“Please, just…touch me.” Turning your head you locked eyes with your adopted Cousin Are, or Princess as everyone called her, on your right with a cutout of none other than Lee Pace’s face with her making kissing noises behind it. Rolling your eyes you gave her a nudge through the door of your closet and slammed the door in her face. “Oh come on! You can’t deny my love!!”

“Just go away Are!”

The door opened again as she watched you pack up the last of your things and carried them to the bed of your beat down old truck with her right behind you scoffing, “I can’t see why you’re leaving the manor to go live in the back of some, some, dojo!” With a huff you closed the bed of your truck and met her eyes as she brushed the stray string of curls resting across your face from when your head turned. “Who’s gonna make sure you wear the right colors each day, and more importantly, who’s gonna be my bestie for all my shopping trips?”

“If me moving somehow stops me from being allowed to spend time with you then I never really was your ‘bestie’ at all.”

“Echo!”

Your brows furrowed as you turned and climbed into your truck, “You know, for years I’ve lived here and all I get is ‘Echo this and Echo that’, my name is Jaqi! If you gave a shit about anyone but yourself you’d have the common sense to even realize I’m moving to get away from you and your bullshit entitled attitude. Your Majesty!” Slamming the door you caught her jaw dropping as you started the truck and drove off to your new apartment, if you could call it that at all, mainly your new hope at freedom.

..

Months you’d had silence from her with the same curious thoughts running through your mind about how you had even found your way into their care. Your Cousin Are and the same faceless Parents you both neither could find any physical proof of at all past names on paper etched onto the deed for the manor you both shared. And somehow your shared lack of anything close to a childhood seemed to only trouble you, while her and her Brothers went on about their lives not caring at all for the loss of time. Names and dates etched into your minds were all you had, transferring them like clockwork whenever needed for forms or interviews between random inquiries from others.

A smile inched onto your face adjusting the duffel bag on your shoulder over your tank top and torn jeans, through the lot your feet carried you to your same beat up rusted near orange old farm truck where your expression dropped flatly as you asked the body seated inside, “What the fuck are you doing in my truck?!”

Smiling widely at you Are turned to face you saying, “Heard you were taking a trip.”

Rolling your eyes you mumbled, “Thanks Fin…” Opening the door you tossed the bag into the small back seat and climbed inside, “It’s just a drive to pick up some supplies from a couple states over.”

She nodded, “Ya, in LA.” With a sigh you started the truck and pulled out, starting the long drive. “I packed everything, swimsuits, dresses, oh I can’t wait to see it all.”

Not long after, you were both listening in to the radio as she sat watching the towns go by between her usual complaints about your truck not being the elegant town car she usually had to drive her around all day. After a few hours the rain clouds blew in and the first clap of thunder clapped startling Are awake drawing a smirk to your face at her panicked breathing and scanning around, “Just a storm Are.”

With a scoff she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, “I know!” Then flinched at the next clap.

“You know what they say, panicking burns a shit-ton of calories.”

In a glare she fired back, “Who even says that?”

With a smirk you caught her eyes, “Me. Just now.”

Rolling her eyes she turned her face towards the window again looking out over the storm, “It’s not funny!”

“Oh really, you mean like the time you left me on the middle of a lake floating on an air mattress in the center of a fireworks display?”

“That was funny! Your scream was priceless!”

“Ya, my screams, from the second degree burns across my back and legs, not even mentioning my hair being singed to my scalp. Hilarious! And the hospital stay, and the bills that I just barely got paid off.”

“Oh it wasn’t that bad.”

Your eyes locked with hers, “Go stand in the center of a hurricane and I’ll let it go, until then, don’t tell me burns over two thirds of my body is hilarious. That my screams of agony amused you so greatly.”

Rolling her eyes she turned her head to watch the next flash go off causing her to scream at the ghostly face she saw through the sheets of rain. “We need to get out of this storm!”

“I am not stopping but I’ll leave you anywhere you like along the way.”

“I’m going to LA!”

“Then buckle up and wave to the Ring Wraith!”

She rolled her eyes, “This is not Middle Earth!”

With a giggle you replied, “You better be thankful for that or you’d be wandering into the unknown right now.”

“I would not be that stupid!”

Inside your mind you mumbled, “You’d be surprised at just how stupid you can be.”

..

Parked alongside a small lot with a café overlooking the ocean you sat on the edge of the bed of your truck sipping on the fruity blended drink as you watched the ocean ignoring Are on your right, flirting with a table filled with familiar faces from the new Avengers flick. The table of men all formerly waiting in line just as you had pulled up, each of them in ball caps trying to be invisible from the world then buckling at the sight of your Cousin prancing up to them with magazine in hand for their signatures. Somehow in her near sheer peach short dress over her two piece and sandals as her ponytail swung over her back, across the room from the table she’d asked you to save for you, you heard her saying, “Could you sign it to Jaqi?”

In what you hoped to be a glimmer of something kind for you the smile from Chris Evans grew asking, “Ck?”

She shook her head, “J-a-q-i.”

On her right Sebastian’s smile grew as he said, “Don’t hear that one often.”

Tom, “Near the French spelling.”

Hemsworth asked, “Are you French?”

She shook her head, “Family name.”

With a sigh you stood catching the eyes of the guys watching your walk towards the man behind the counter calling out, “Jaqi, Echo.” The two teens by the counter chuckling and repeating in slowly dying voices, “Echo-Echo-Echo” last two repetitions fading softer as they scanned over you eyeing the blue sundress you were in as your curls rested over your back in a slow sway when you grabbed the drinks.

You softly smiled at the worker then turned back to your table only to freeze at the taller of the two resting his hand on your shoulder saying, “Aw now sweetheart, no running off to your island now. I’ll be your Achilles.” On his left his friend added on with a wink, “Ya, we’ll give you lots to shout back at us.”

In a near deadpan the pair stepped back from you at your unamused glare melting into a forced smile as you replied, “Achilles is in a different myth, nowhere close to Echo’s tale. Go read a book little boy.” As you stepped away you blindly set Are’s drink in front of her bearing your name on the side as you walked through the propped open door towards your truck. In a single motion you hopped up, resting our boot on the back tire, turned and sat on the edge of the bed of your truck curling one leg before you with the other propped up through your sip. Harshly you forced yourself to swallow the tart mixture you eyed carefully trying to place the fruits she had chosen for you in this orange mixture.

Sighing softly you relaxed back against the truck frame behind you stealing a glimpse at the time on your watch then looked out at the ocean trying to figure out just how long she was going to be. As the minutes ticked by she’d gotten herself invited along to the beach house they were staying in for a small get together they were having. Turning your head you locked eyes with Are as she called out, “Echo, come on, party!” After glance at your watch you tapped it with your finger and she huffed loudly rolling her eyes, “The tapes can wait! Don’t be such a stick in the mud!”

Rolling your eyes you called back, “Later, I have work, Are.” Tossing your empty cup in the trash can by your truck before you turned and hopped down, stepping to the door, opened it and climbed inside then started up the truck and turned your head to see Tom waving at you with a timid smile. Sliding over you rolled down the window using the crank as his eyes locked on yours with a stunned expression melting into an anxious chuckle then said, “You’re leaving already?”

“I have to pick up some tapes for work. Why I’m in LA.”

“Want some company?”

“You sure you’re supposed to be taking of with a stranger like this?” He chuckled again, “Don’t get me wrong, you could probably no doubt take me down if needed. I meant, aren’t you supposed to be guarded or something?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “Just um, fetching some tapes, right?” You nodded, “Besides, how else could I possibly convince you to come tonight?”

Through his pleading gaze, sliding over after rolling up the window he bit his lip as he climbed inside waving the guys off. You both buckled up and you pulled out of the lot catching a glimpse of Are in your mirror climbing into one of their cars as Tom asked, “So, that happen often?”

You glanced over with a curious smirk, “Celebrities climbing into my truck or the teens hitting on me using my name?”

“The latter.”

“It’s not always teens, but my name normally does get brought up.”

“Must be irritating after a while.”

You nodded feeling his eyes on you, “All in a day being named after a nymph with such a sad story.”

“You still like your name though?”

“I normally go by my middle name.”

As he turned to you again he asked with a playful grin, “And that would be?”

“Jaqiearae.” His brow rose and you looked at the street again, “Jaqi or Jaq-Jaq depending on who I talk to.”

His lips parted, “Oh, so you and, the other-,”

“My adopted Cousin Aredhel, her middle name’s Isfin, not as fun for her to say as my name, we call her Are though.”

Under furrowed brows he asked, “So she just, uses your name in public then?”

“Princess does as she pleases.” His brow rose again, “That’s how she got here, jumped in my truck before I got into it, invited herself along.”

“How long are you in town?”

“Just tonight, have to drive back in the morning. You?”

“Same.”

The corner of your mouth ticked up and you eyed the car pulling up beside you with a shrieking woman inside pointing at your truck and snapping pictures of Tom beside you. In the short drive he’d broke into a conversation on both of your interests until he eyed the large convention center you had parked at and bit his lip climbing out then followed you inside curiously eyeing the path you led him through. This same path he’d followed for comic convention appearances before causing him to ask, “What sort of tapes are you picking up?”

You met his gaze with a soft chuckle then replied, “There was a karate tournament a week back, got asked to grab the tapes from it so the guys can study it for the next one coming up.” You caught his gaze again and chuckled softly, “I work in a dojo and get all the fun errands.”

“Trip to LA sounds fun.”

“Never been a big fan of the ocean.”

“Can’t swim?”

“I can, just, I don’t know, prefer trees and mountains. More at home there.”

On your left a deep voice called out, “Ah, Jaq-Jaq! Knew you’d be on the way soon.” His green eyes scanned over you happily before greeting Tom and shaking his hand, “Glad you didn’t bring Miss Princess along this time.” His head nodded and he led you into the office behind him, collecting a bag of tapes and then guided you back out again where you locked the tapes in the built in chest under the cushioned seat in the back beside your bag.

Meeting his gaze you chuckled and said, “Are tends to bring dates back to our room. Usually sleep in my truck.” A soft ding brought your eyes down to your boot, where you pulled your phone from the tall socks you had on reading the message from a friend in town asking for a favor.

“Ah.”

.

Back in the truck again you drove to a small Italian diner after his stomach growled loudly causing you to giggle softly, “I know just the place.” Widening his smile.

Looking around the parking lot he watched the cars filled with camera men all exiting and racing across the parking lot, watching your rhythmic knock on the door before another smiling face answered and let you in before locking up behind you again gaining disbelieving shouts and grumbles outside. The tall blonde passed Tom a menu as he followed you both into the empty kitchen where you started to scrub your hands after tying up your hair as the blonde said, “Thank you so much for this! Same as usual?”

You nodded, “Always.”

Tom eyed you curiously as you moved to the counter already covered with ingredients you moved towards and started mixing up while he picked a dinner close to yours and sat on a nearby stool joining you in your conversation. The longer he watched his smile grew at the various desserts you were putting together as the blonde finished your orders, sharing your usual habit of helping him out with the desserts for his place when his usual baker was out of town widening Tom’s smile as he snapped a few pictures of your creations.

Through the meal he got a fuller picture of you and your interests, while sharing more of his own, settling into a deeply adoring gaze towards you the longer he looked at you. By sunset driven the distance to their rental home where Are greeted you happily with a drink in hand and passed you a beer of your own bringing a flinching smile onto your face before the guys gathered around you both eyeing Tom’s inching back to your side after claiming a drink of his own. All night you bit back your comments and reactions to Are and her seemingly endless stories and near orders for you to share the more painful or embarrassing situations she placed you in for her enjoyment the group around her obviously picked up on your shielded irritation. In a glance across the room you caught another familiar set of faces strolling over to join your group after Are had stepped away to move her flirtatious game onto another actor, the tipsy and beaming Luke Evans, drawing a snicker from Tom as he leaned in to whisper “She does know he’s-.”

“Gay?” He nodded, “Doesn’t really matter. He’s got abs and that dreamy voice and over six feet, so, ya, and, now she’s on his lap.” His head turned and he chuckled softly before getting called away to another of his friends after promising to come back. In the next few minutes the group had split leaving just Lee Pace, one of the pair that had just joined your group, his date had joined the others to another celebrity that had called them over. Turning your head back to where the group was from your glance at the stars your heart skipped at the smiling giant as his smile dimmed catching your purple and silver flecked eyes before he smiled again to say, “You must be the Echo we’ve heard so much about.”

Your head nodded as his expression froze then shifted to an awkward chuckle at your bright smile through your own soft chuckle, “Apparently my Cousin’s been very busy sharing all my secrets.”

His smile grew as he eyed your untouched drink in your hand, “Don’t like beer?”

“I’m driving.”

In a shift of his eyes he glanced at Are in her tipsy prance over to you as she flopped her arm around the back of your neck holding down your hair painfully as her finger tapped your nose stirring an irritated exhale from you as she slurred, “Right now, I don’t know if I want to kiss you or shove you off a bridge”

“Can I pick?” Your response drawing a chuckle from Lee he claimed a sip from his beer to mask it.

Her smile grew through an excited squeak claiming your drink for a long sip before she added, “Have you heard about our last trip to Nevada?” He shook his head before meeting your gaze again, listening to the story before she swayed farther onto your shoulder saying, “Are you SURE I can’t punch him in the face?” To which Lee chuckled before you said, “To which her Brother said, ‘Yes.”

Are held up her hand holding her index finger and thumb closely together asking, “What if I break his nose a little?”

Lee chuckled again then eyed her head turning toward Chris Evans in his own drunken sway calling out your name, to which she straightened up and went to answer, joining him towards whatever location he led her to on the other end of the house. Meeting Lee’s eyes again he chuckled and asked, “I take it you don’t get along?”

You shrugged, “Everyone loves Are.” His brow rose, “She hates her name, so she steals my nickname when it suits her.” Your eyes shifted to his date eyeing Lee hungrily as he downed his drink then called for another from the bartender at the small bar at the end of the patio before you looked at Lee again, “I think your date wants you.”

He glanced at the dark haired man then looked back at you with a partially panicked expression, “I, he’s um.”

Your smile stopped his words, “I’m a receptionist at a Dojo, that’s my beat up old truck outside, and I still have a flip phone, so no worries about it being front page news.” His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, “I do have to say, he has an amazing ass. Well done.” Making Lee chuckle and glance at his feet before smiling at you again, “Oh if I was here with him I know just where my hand would be whenever possible.” Making his smile grow larger, “And that look of his explains just where he wants his to be.”

In a glance over at his date again gaining a wink from him he looked at you again with another chuckle, “It can wait.” His smile grew as he playfully asked, “You still have a flip phone?”

In a giggle you replied, “I have a flip phone.” Your eyes shifted to his date as he crossed the patio to you both, “And, apparently it can’t.” After a glance at your watch your body turned and you softly added with a wink, “Nice meeting you, enjoy your night.” In a near pleading glance he watched you turn and walk towards the nearby set of stairs towards the beach. Passing a window you could clearly hear your muffled name being called out sending a sting through your chest. Following the path you wandered onto the sand with your eyes raising to the sky watching the streaking stars shooting across the sky stirring a smile onto your face.

A hand on your side tilted your head to Tom and his smile and upward glance as he curled around your back lowly stating, “Sorry, didn’t mean to be away so long. You’re not running away are you?”

You shook your head, leaning back against his chest, “Thought about it, the stars distracted me.”

Peering down at you and your glowing eyes with reflections of the shooting stars streaking across them deepened his smile before he gently kissed your cheek then said, “There’s a set of loungers back that way if you wanted?” With a nod you split up and his hand eased through yours leading you back to the end of the patio giving you a clear view of the stars still as you settled on one of them as Tom straddled the lounger behind you pulling you back against his chest curling his arms around your middle after the men from his group earlier moved to sit around you.

Through their conversation your eyes kept wandering towards the tall brunette pair sharing a hushed conversation while the taller of the two held his eyes on you, taking in every moment he could through the party. This continued until you looked at your watch again and rose to your feet signaling Tom to escort you to your truck. The whole way his hand held yours until you reached the sore thumb in the extravagant line of cars, where his free hand cupped your cheek and he claimed a soft kiss then pulled back and drew out his phone to claim your number, holding his smile and waving you off when you drove away. The silence of the night allowing him on his path back inside to hear clearly just who had distracted your Cousin upstairs causing him to roll his eyes and join his group inside again.

…

Two years had passed and not a single word was heard from the supposed ultimate gentleman that had stolen your day and most of that night from you, but no matter what you really understood, once again true to your name you faded away from his obviously distracted mind. One face out of billions he must encounter through his travels, another nice girl to curl around and warm his arms for a few hours at least before being forgotten again.

In the back of yet another line you stood with Are not far away, casually dressed with your arms crossed once again. The torn jeans, boot wearing sore thumb in the large crowd of fully costumed fans, a round of cheers and shrieks drew your eyes towards the line of Avengers cast members all headed towards their table interview. The back of their line held a familiar Brit with parting lips when his eyes stopped on you in the endless sea of faces, your quick smile then glance towards your Cousin as she showed you something in the poster in her hands nearly broke his heart while Chris Evans eyed Are with a smirk. On his path back to the table he pulled out his phone and found your number, using the few minutes before going on to call you as Chris pulled his out to text Are.

Holding his phone up to his ear he mumbled to himself, “Come on, please answer…”

A buzzing in your boot caused you to lean down and pull up your pant leg to grab your phone and curiously eye the number on the small screen on the razor phone in your palm, nudging your hem down you flicked it open and answered, “Hello?”

Stepping away from the others Tom cheerfully yet softly said, “Hey, it’s Tom.”

Again the same stab went through your chest, “You really didn’t have to call me, I get it.” Another wave of shrieks sounded out signaling your head to turn towards the cast of the Hobbit headed for the room you were lined up for with a familiar brunette smiling at you.

“I, really, wanted to explain…” On his left he shifted his phone away from the woman approaching him to line them up for the walk out.

“You really don’t have to. Enjoy your day, I gotta go.” In a click you shut your phone ending the call as Lee broke from the line to your side, gripping the rope and raising it after nodding his head and mouthing, “Come with me.”

A soft giggle came from you as you followed his order, ducking under the rope and accepting his hand as he led you towards his group again leaving your giggling Cousin to look around for the attendant Chris had sent for her without a single thought about you. Back in his line the guys around him eyed you closely as they grouped around you watching as Lee leaned in with a smirk to softly say beside your ear, “You weren’t joking about the phone.”

You shook your head, “No I wasn’t.” All through their event you sat in the back area watching from a monitor until they joined you again for a short time allowing them to get to know you, including Luke with a relieved smile at Are not being there, until you were allowed to browse through the convention as they sat for their fan signing, after which they had a dinner you were invited to. In the cozy back room of the place they had chosen to eat you sat beside Luke at the end while Lee sat beside his latest fling on the other end of the table once again wising for more time alone with you. 

All ending with another long lonely drive home for you with those same hazel and bright blue eyes burning into your mind as you tried to imagine just where your Cousin had managed to be swept off to this time as you parked at the Dojo once again and eyed Tom’s latest long message popping up onto your phone.

…

In the next few years the panic in Tom died down as he finally felt heard, at the more advantageous relationship was chosen for him by his management team, along with your returning to your same pleasant friendly demeanor around him masking the sting from his unintentional slight. Between your random passing encounters with him you spotted Lee more and more. 

Even to the point where on that same planned encounter in that convention you were kidnapped in, he had ensured he was single and finally able to claim a chance with you. But on his way to meet up with you he spotted Are and his heart sank at her announcing your vanishing, leaving him to skim through your recent messages trying to figure out just how he had managed to scare you off.

…

Under the shifting starlight your mind wandered back to that same memory of you waking wreathed in flames on that inflatable mattress in the lake with flames coating you. A sharp gasp came from you as your body was jerked through the air as the body clutching you gripped you tighter when your memory shifted and a white glowing city grew around you. Stone crumbled and glass shattered before a familiar deep set of voices called out your name through the loud shouts growing around you from the panicked fleeing Elves. 

From under your hair you had shifted you eyed the balrog carrying you in one hand, using the other to fend off Ecthelion’s attacks trying to free you before you were thrown free and snatched up by another large hand carrying you off into the distance. 

One more clear shout of ‘Echo!’ Sounded out distantly before your now panting body sat up and you watched the doors to your room being thrown open with the Elf King racing straight to your side, curling your legs in his lap from where you’d kicked the covers back. Gently he drew you against his bare chest hugging you tightly to his chest until your breathing calmed from his hands stroking your back and gliding through your hair.

In a soft whisper you mumbled after you pulled back, “Just, a bad dream.”

Firmly in a soothing tone he replied, “Mine are usually memories. Sometimes, memories are the worst torture. Is it from your old world?”

“I, had an adopted Cousin, Aredhel,” His brows rose locking his eyes with yours, “I know, same name as the Princess from Gondolin. She um, we didn’t get along well, and, the rest was, there was a man I cared about.” He swallowed dryly then settled closer to you stroking your arms trying to remain supportive, “We spent a day together, and when I was leaving he kissed me, and took my number so he could call me later, but he never did.” Causing Thranduil’s lips to part, “Ran into him years later, he’d been set up with someone more advantageous to his career. And then, it flashed to back there, Aredhel played a trick on me, left me in a lake in the center of a fireworks display when I was sleeping. I woke up on fire.” Tears filled his eyes at the tears streaming down your cheeks, “Then it shifted again, something was holding me, and people were shouting my name.”

“You’re remembering your disappearance from our world?”

“The thing is,” his eyes darted to your lips when you wet them and chuckled weakly, “It wasn’t the balrog or dragon I was afraid of, it was the pain in the voices screaming for me. In the old world, no one missed me I’m sure of it, all far too busy with their own lives. There I had no family, not like you and your Son care about each other. But those screams, I could feel it, they were my family.”

Gently his hand stroked your cheek as he asked, “Did you want to try and sleep some more?”

You nodded, “I probably should.”

His head tilted slightly, “Are you comfortable staying here?” You nodded again, “Did you want me to stay until you fall asleep again?”

“Is,”

“Yes?”

“Is there a rule against, if I asked you to hold me?”

“No, we’re courting. We can stay in my bed, much better view of the stars through my windows if you prefer?”

With a soft smile you shifted your legs off the bed feeling the silk nightgown he had gifted you dropping to your ankles and glowing from the moonlit lines and dots coating your skin from the moonlight, easing your hand into his open palm as he escorted you towards his room. In the hall his hand motioned to his guards that had grouped in the hall at the obvious struggle your sleep had brought on, with confirming nods they turned and went back to their positions. “Was I that loud?”

His head turned to meet your gaze with a soft smile over his pained eyes, “Your breathing, you sounded, like you were drowning, trying to gasp for air. Shaking the headboard with, what I assume to be your kicking.”

“Oh.” Your eye lowered, “I’m sorry-.”

In a pause in his open doorway his free hand raised your chin to meet his gaze again to say, “You owe no one any apology.” Slowly his thumb stroked along your cheek as he leaned in to press his lips to yours, holding the warm loving gesture for a few moments before smiling adoringly at you, “Back to bed Dearest, safe and warm.” 

Turning again his hand held yours for the walk through his rooms towards his bed, leaving the doors open and easing you into the side closest to the window and climbed over you to brush his legs under the covers he had raised to your shoulder. On your sides you guided him to wrap his arms around you, holding you tightly while he shared the names and stories of all the stars visible through his large wall of windows, nuzzling closer to you as he felt you slipping back off to sleep again. 

Closing his own eyes he sighed trying to wonder at just what else your past had held secret from you between his trying to picture just what sort of man would ever allow himself being convinced against claiming you for himself as his fingers ran along the sides of the bell he’d braided into your hair just a few hours prior.

Pt 4

#Thranduil x Reader OC #Hobbit #lotr #Tom Hiddleston x Reader OC #Lee Pace x Reader OC

[spazzcat]

The Last Aspect Ch. 14

Reposting chapter 14 for Shatt Week 2017.

Includes content for:

Day 1: Liberation (Freedom)

Day 2: Angst (Angst)

Day 3: Bonding (Confessions)

Day 4: Free Day (Scars)

Day 6: School (Garrison Days)

Read the full fic (still in progress) on AO3 here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11165202/chapters/24920571

Matt paused to wipe the sweat from his forehead as he tightened the splint wrap around the section of cracked exoskeleton. A few more careful adjustments and he was able to seal it, holding the damaged plates still while they healed. “There we go.” He shot a reassuring smile up at the insectoid alien he’d been helping. “Just go easy on that limb while it’s healing, okay? I don’t want to see you back in here because you overdid it and racked your splint.” The alien nodded effusively, chittering gratitude and reassurances in heavily-accented Galran that Matt just barely managed to interpret. “Glad to hear it. Head on over and get something to eat, okay? Then rest.” He waved his patient off toward the carts full of food bowls that had been set up at one side of the medical dormitory, heaving a weary sigh as they left.

“All done?” The unexpected voice beside him made him jump, and he whirled to find himself face to face with Shiro, who raised an eyebrow and held out a drink pack.

“Vrekt, Takashi, don’t sneak up on me like that!” Matt grumbled, accepting the drink pack gratefully. He sighed, leaning against the edge of the medical cot in order to take some of his weight off his legs.

“Sorry.” Shiro chuckled, completely unrepentant. “Was that your last patient?” He asked, gesturing to the being Matt had been helping, now settled in with a group of other assorted aliens who had been rescued from the Empire battlecruiser as they ate their first decent meal in who-knew-how-long.

The ginger nodded wearily, pushing his bangs back out of his face. “Yeah. There’s a few people still to be treated, but they’re species who need a doctor more experienced with their needs than I am, or they don’t speak Galran.” Looking over at the group on the other side of the room, he huffed a soft laugh. “You know, when I did my degrees in xenobiology and medicine, this is not how I expected to end up using them.”

“What, you don’t like playing doctor to a thousand species of aliens?” Shiro teased, and Matt felt his heart speed up at the playful grin on the other man’s face.

Grinning back, he elbowed Shiro lightly in the side. “Better aliens than Humans. Aliens actually listen to their doctor’s instructions most of the time.” Pushing away from the wall, he shifted his weight and winced as the dull ache in his left knee turned to something sharper. “Speaking of doctor’s orders, I should go sit down for a while before Xel comes after me. I swear that woman has a sixth sense for disobedient patients, even if I’m technically not one anymore.”

“Who’s Xel?” Shiro asked curiously, staying close as Matt limped slowly out of the room and down the main hallway, leaning slightly against the wall for support. The paladin looked like he wanted to offer to help, but wasn’t sure how it would be received, so he settled for staying close and available. Another sharp stab of pain had Matt seriously considering asking the larger man to carry him, but he resisted. Shiro was already carrying enough needless guilt over the old injury, and anyway his quarters weren’t far away.

“A doctor. Hylathian species, one of the mer types. She came over from the Boiling Rock too.” He gestured overhead to one of the water-filled conduits that granted the water-based species mobility throughout the ship. “When I was first brought aboard the Boiling Rock, I was a scared, injured member of an unknown species who understood about five words of Galran, all of them commands, and no other known language. They assigned me a Hylathian doctor on the theory that I’d be less scared of someone who couldn’t move freely around the room, someone I could retreat from if I wanted to.”

“And did you?”

Matt shrugged, pausing for a moment to rest his leg. “Only until I figured out she was a doctor. After that we got along great.” He grinned fondly at the memory. Xel had tried to convey what she wanted to do by using her handheld scanner on her own hand, then showing him the display. There’d been a lot of squinting and flinching involved until he cautiously came close enough to see what was clearly a medical read-out, upon which fear was usurped by curiosity. The following several hours had been spent teaching him a handful of Galran words while she examined his leg and eye, comparing them to the undamaged ones to assess the severity of the damage damage and he did his level best to learn the ins and outs of the scanner, the first alien tech other than his manacles he’d had the chance to see up close. “She’s a bit of a mom friend, to be honest. Always fussing over me, trying to make sure that I’m not missing anything I need to be healthy.”

Shiro chuckled. “I’m glad to hear that.” He said softly, pacing alongside as Matt started moving again. “It’s a relief to know that you’ve had people looking out for you.”

“Pack is family, and I’ve been considered part of the pack for quite a while now.” The younger explained, turning a corner and stopping in front of a door. The nameplate displayed his name, Matthew Holt, and his occupation aboard the ship, medic, in four different languages: the tangled curls of Altean, the angular symbols of H’ress’wr, the odd swoops and jags of Galran, and the comparatively simple, familiar characters of English. Pushing open the door, he revealed a cozy set of living quarters, a unmade bed on one wall across from a desk and chair and a second door that led to a bathroom. “Come on in, make yourself at home.”

“These are your quarters?” Shiro followed hesitantly as Matt limped inside, sinking onto the edge of the bed with a sigh of relief as he stretched his bad leg out in front of him. After a moment’s consideration the paladin flipped the chair around so he could sit facing him, resting his elbows on his knees.

Matt nodded, focused on pulling at the fabric of his pant leg to get at the hidden zipper around the thigh. “Yeah. Standard single quarters for most humanoid species. Really easy to customize for species needs, like different lighting or wall colours. Did you know Alteans prefer aquamarine lighting because they evolved under a blue giant star?” Undoing the fastener he pulled the leg of the garment down and out of the way. The familiar sight of his damaged leg greeted him, the smooth metal of the brace that supported the joint gleaming in the overhead lights. He unstrapped it with practiced fingers, putting the brace carefully aside before starting to massage the sore tissue around his knee, letting out a soft hiss of discomfort at the sharp ache. He’d definitely been on it too much today.

It was Shiro’s silence that got his attention, and Matt’s head jerked up again to the sight of sickened horror on the paladin’s face. Following the direction of the other man’s gaze, his eyes landed on the scar on his leg. It was thick and ropey from lack of proper care and from splitting and reopening repeatedly while it was healing, starting high on the outside of the knee and curving down and forward along the side and out onto his shin. Matt was so used to the sight he barely registered it anymore, and in his hurry to get the brace off he’d forgotten that his friend hadn’t seen it yet.

The man in question had gone white as a sheet, staring at Matt’s leg with anguish and guilt written plainly across his face. Matt didn’t have to be psychic to guess at the memory playing out in Shiro’s mind, or the thoughts running through his head. “Takashi…” He began, softly, trying to forestall the inevitable self-recriminations.

Shiro beat him to it before he could. “God, Matt…” He swallowed hard, and Matt could see the shine of tears in his eyes. “I can’t believe I...I’m so sorry, Matt, I can’t believe I did this to you…”

“Takashi, it’s fine, really--”

“No it isn’t! I did that to you, I hurt you so badly--”

“Seriously, it wasn’t--”

“And you’re still hurting because of what I did, don’t think I haven’t seen you wincing when you walk--”

“Yes, but--”

“I don’t know how you can even stand to be around me now--”

Okay, that was enough of that. Matt took a deep breath. “Takashi Shoichi Shirogane would you shut the fuck up and let me speak!” He bellowed, doing his best imitation of his mother on a royal tear. It worked instantly, Shiro’s mouth snapping shut with an audible click as he stared at Matt, eyes wide. “Thank you.” Matt cleared his throat, giving Shiro a warning stare. “Now then. Are you going to hear me out about this or not?”

Shiro gave a slow nod, still looking distinctly upset, and Matt sighed.

“First of all, let’s make one thing clear. The original wound you gave me was nowhere near this bad. Lack of medical care and slogging around in thick mud at the mines made it a lot worse, both in terms of appearance and damage. None of that was in any way your fault. Understand?” His friend looked a little rebellious, but nodded when Matt fixed him with another sharp look.

“Second, you seem to be forgetting the reason you injured me in the first place.” The ginger levelled his gaze at Shiro. “To keep me out of the arena. If I’d been sent in there against that monster, I wouldn’t be hurt, I would be dead. You injured my leg in order to save my life, Takashi, and you have no idea how grateful I am.”

“Grateful? For my crippling you?” Matt made an exasperated noise, smacking a palm to his face. God save him from cute men with great asses who insisted on carrying blame for everything.

“If that’s what you want to call it, then yes.” He confirmed, rolling his eyes in mild annoyance. Shiro looked confused and dismayed, opening his mouth to argue again, but Matt interrupted him before he could. “Look, I’ve had a lot of time to think about this over the last two years, so just hear me out, okay?” The paladin subsided, giving a sharp nod and gesturing for him to continue.

“When I first got rescued by the Icebringers, I was pretty scared for a while. Remember, I spoke all of five words of Galran and the only non-Galra I’d ever seen were prisoners like me. I didn’t know who they were, or what they wanted from me. Xel seemed nice enough, but that didn’t mean anything. For all I knew they were the deep-space equivalent of pirates, raiding the Empire for supplies and slaves, and I was no better off than before. As bad as it sounds, there were a few times I almost wished I could just go back to the mine, because at least there I knew what the score was, knew what to expect and what was expected of me. The Boiling Rock was new and unpredictable and it was terrifying.”

“For a while I was mostly trying to learn alien body languages for dozens of different species completely on the fly, with no frame of reference, because I was terrified of getting hurt for doing the wrong thing because I couldn’t read any of these people. I learned that for Galra emotions you watch the ears, not the face. I learned that H’ress raise or lower their tails instead of nodding or shaking their heads. I learned that Hylathians incorporate the movement of the water around them into their body language. Things like that. And once I could communicate, I kept on learning, bits and pieces of language, culture, evolutionary history.”

He paused for a moment, staring distantly at the wall as he considered his next words. “Then one day, once I had a half-decent grasp of the language, I ended up seeing a traditional H’ress ceremony where they were honouring one of their hunters for something they’d done on a mission that apparently saved a lot of lives. There was chanting, and drumming, and a ritual tattoo--that’s how they get the dyed fur, like Shiiar’keh has. It’s a symbol of immense honour. And it was the most incredible thing I’d ever seen, a millenias-old alien culture up close and personal. And that’s when I realized, that I was the first Human ever to see this. The first Human to learn any of the things I’d learned. Hell, I was conversational in a language that evolved in an entirely different galaxy, and starting to learn two others! And I wouldn’t have been alive to see or learn any of it if Takashi Shirogane hadn’t traded his life for mine in the Empire arena.”

“After that, this scar became a symbol for me.” Matt said quietly, gaze falling to his leg as he traced over the scar with careful fingers. “A symbol of the incredible gift you gave me that day. Maybe I would never see home again--Earth wasn’t in the Icebringer charts, so they couldn’t take me home even though they wanted to--but I was alive.”

Matt lifted his head, locking his gaze on Shiro’s dark eyes, which were wide with surprise. “Yes, you cut my leg open that day. Yes, it never healed properly due to lack of care. Yes, it does hurt more often than not and I limp and can’t go far or fast without either help or pain. But that’s okay. Because by cutting my leg open that day, you saved my life. Thanks to you, I’m alive to feel that pain. I’m alive to grieve for my dad, I’m alive to miss home. I’m alive to learn alien languages and alien biology and alien cultures. I’m alive to see things no Human ever has and maybe ever will.”

He gave a soft laugh, rubbing at his eyes as he felt tears pricking at the corners. “And now you’re here. And I’m alive to appreciate Keith punching Iverson in the face for you, and Hunk’s cooking, and Lance’s impressive manicures. I’m alive to hold my beautiful baby sister in my arms, and tell her I love her, and see the incredible young woman she’s already started to grow into.”

“And,” he continued, taking a deep breath. “I’m alive to tell you how much I’ve missed you. I’m alive to tell you how incredibly, indescribably grateful I am for what you did for me, and everything you sacrificed for me.” He shot a pointed look at Shiro’s right arm, where the sleeve of his bodysuit concealed the Galra prosthetic Katie had told him about, courtesy of Haggar herself when the arena had nearly gotten the better of the man. “I’m alive to tell you you’re full of shit for trying to feel guilty for this and I’m alive to repeat that fact as many times as it takes until it finally sinks into your thick skull.”

Shiro’s cheeks reddened slightly, but he remained silent. He seemed almost overwhelmed by Matt’s story, by the way he saw the impairment the older man had inflicted on him.

Hesitating for a moment, Matt broke eye contact and looked away. “And last but definitely not least,” he said softly, his words still carrying in the silence of the room, “I’m alive to tell you that I love you. I’ve been in love with you for years, ever since that day you caught me booby-trapping that one professor’s desk for being a dick to some of the younger cadets and instead of turning me in, even though you barely knew me yet, you asked how you could help.” He smiled fondly to himself at the memory. With an extra set of willing hands they had successfully made the professor’s life deservedly miserable until he’d ended up transferring to another branch, to the relief of nearly everyone. “I’m not expecting you to return my feelings, and if you don’t then nothing has to change between us. But I spent two years believing that you’d died for me and I never had the guts to tell you how I felt, so I’m doing it now, because you’re alive and I’m alive and we’re together and I can.” The last words came out in a rush and he finally fell silent, trying to catch his breath.

There was a long silence. Matt fidgeted with his leg brace as he avoided looking at Shiro, poking at the screws and trying to distract himself by making sure they were all tight. The words he’d been bottling up for years were out there now, hanging in the air between them, and he felt simultaneously nauseous and elated.

A feather light touch on his chin startled him into looking up, and then there were lips on his.

For about half a second, Matt’s brain short circuited completely. Then he realized, yes, those really were lips pressed against his. Shiro’s lips. Takashi Shirogane was kissing him. At that point instinct took over and he leaned into the kiss, dropping the brace into his lap as his hands automatically came up to cup the older man’s cheeks.

It was soft and chaste and over too soon as Shiro pulled back, staring at him with a sort of hesitant awe, a tiny smile that somehow managed to light up his whole face.

“You just kissed me.” Matt pointed out. He promptly wanted to smack himself, but his brain was still a skipping CD playing the words Takashi just kissed you. The guy you’ve been in love with for years just kissed you on repeat, so he supposed he should be glad he’d gotten out a coherent sentence at all.

“I did.” Shiro sounded equally surprised with himself, but no less pleased, his cheeks dusted red.

The younger hesitated, slowly moving his brace off to the side again. “Does that...do you…” He tried to find the words, but they tangled on his tongue as hope warred with fear.

“Yes.” The paladin said simply, moving from his slight crouch in front of him to sit beside him on the edge of the bed, smoothing the blankets beside him in a gesture of uncharacteristic nervousness that Matt couldn’t help but find oddly sweet. “You’re not the only one who was shy about confessing their feelings.” He admitted, his blush darkening as he chuckled awkwardly. “I think I fell even longer ago than you did.”

“How long?” Matt couldn’t help but ask. His heart was pounding in his chest, and if it hadn’t been for the persistent ache of his bad knee, he would have wondered if he was dreaming.

Shiro smiled, his eyes full of loving admiration. “Remember that day you stayed up all night helping those freshmen cram for their astronomy final even though you had a biochem exam the next morning?” Matt groaned at the memory and nodded. Half an hour before the exam he’d resorted to a medically-unsound combination of energy drinks and espresso that managed to draw horrified looks even from other double-majors and hadn’t slept for the rest of exam week, but the grateful hugs later from the freshmen had been more than worth it. “I watched you talking about constellations and black holes and neutron stars and the way you talked about them could have made a mole fall in love with the sky. And the look on your face, like you could see them all around you...that was when I realized I loved you.”

It was Matt’s turn to look at Shiro in awe. That was what the other man saw when he looked at him? He was so used to being brushed off as a nerd, a dork, an awkward gangly geek...and Shiro looked at his passion and thought it was beautiful. But then, Shiro saw the beauty in everything, it was one of the reasons Matt had fallen for him in the first place. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?” He asked finally.

“Honestly? I thought you were too good for me.” His friend admitted, scratching his cheek nervously. At Matt’s incredulous look, he elaborated. “You’re incredibly smart, and you love to learn about anything and everything. You’re incredibly kind, like that thing with the freshmen, and you never seem to dislike anyone without a very good reason. Hence why I helped you prank that teacher, by the way.” He smiled. “You’re witty, loyal, generous, loving, handsome...I could go on all night. And I was just some piloting student.”

Matt let out a strangled noise, his cheeks burning crimson after Shiro’s description of him. “Just some piloting student?!” He exclaimed, outraged that the paladin didn’t seem to see how incredible he himself was. “Takashi, you were never ‘just some piloting student’. You were a prodigy, they kept having to program new sims because you beat everything they threw at you, even the ones you shouldn’t have been able to. That’s why they selected you to go to Kerberos, even over older, more experienced pilots.” The other looked like he was about to object, but the ginger was on a roll. “And even though you were incredibly talented, everybody liked you because you were kind and helpful and the nicest guy ever, not to mention hot as hell. I think every single person on campus wanted to date you, be you, or both, honestly.”

“I’m really not…” Shiro tried to put in, equally red-faced.

“You are.” Matt insisted firmly. He studied the other man thoughtfully, comparing him to his memory of the man he’d been the last time they saw each other, younger and unscarred. Older, wearier, but still handsome, still kind. “You’re the kind of guy who takes the unruly, socially awkward problem student under his wing and gives him someone he can trust and feel safe with, someone to consider a brother. You’re the kind of guy who sees an evil overlord terrorizing the universe and immediately steps forward to fight against him, even against insane odds, because it’s the right thing to do. And you’re the kind of guy who throws himself at certain death so someone else can live,” he gestured to his leg again, inwardly amused at the way the conversation had come almost full circle, “go through actual hell for a year being tortured, experimented on, and forced to kill, and afterwards, apologize to the person you protected for--”

He was cut off again by another kiss, held longer than the first, and when Shiro pulled back Matt could see that he was crying, tears shining on his cheeks.

“You always did see the good in people.” Shiro gave an odd, watery laugh, naked admiration in his gaze before it dropped to his arm, the right arm, the Galran prosthetic Katie had told him about. The weapon Haggar had given him, and tried to turn him into.

Matt immediately reached out, putting a hand over Shiro’s. “That doesn’t make you a bad person, Takashi.” He said softly. “Neither do the things you’ve had to do, in the arena or in this war. Doing what you do, killing is necessary sometimes. What matters is who, and why. In the arena you had no choice, and I know you well enough to know you never, ever let your opponent suffer, did you?” The paladin gave a slow nod, lifting his gaze for a moment before dropping it to their joined hands. “And in battle, you were protecting. Your team, innocents, people who couldn’t protect themselves. You are still a good man, Takashi. You’re still every inch the man I fell in love with.”

The older man drew in a shuddering breath, hiding his face for a moment with his free hand. Matt waited patiently, giving his friend time to accept his words. He couldn’t begin to imagine the weight of guilt the black paladin had been carrying, that he knew all too well he wouldn’t have confided in anyone, but he could try to ease the burden somewhat. Takashi Shirogane was a good man, one who didn’t deserve any of the suffering he’d endured, physical, mental, or emotional, and Matthew Holt would do what he could to help him heal.

“That goes both ways, then.” Shiro said finally, wiping at red eyes. “You’re every bit the passionate, intelligent, clear-headed man I fell for too.” His smile was shaky, but genuine, and it made Matt’s heart soar just like it always had back on Earth.

“Then will you, Shirogane Takashi, do me the incredible honour of becoming my boyfriend?” He asked, grinning widely back at his friend, hope and excitement beating in his chest. “I’d get down on one knee, but I don’t think the joint in question would appreciate it.” He gestured at his leg in mock annoyance.

Shiro laughed. “If you don’t mind having a patchwork soldier with PTSD for a boyfriend.”

“I definitely do not mind.” Matt responded firmly. This time he was the one who closed the gap, leaning in to press his lips to Shiro’s, their hands still linked between them. The other’s lips were warm and soft, just like he’d always imagined they would be, and he savoured the sensation as they held the contact. His free hand cupped Shiro’s cheek, fingertips playing with the soft fuzz of his undercut and his thumb lightly tracing the edge of the scar across the bridge of his nose. He could feel the warm weight of Shiro’s hand on the back of his neck, fingers laced in his hair as the other held him close.

When he did eventually pull back, he could feel a deep warmth settle into his chest, a buzz of intense happiness. Matt let out a delighted laugh, leaning their foreheads together.

“What’s so funny?”

Matt grinned, the smile stretching his lips hard enough to make his cheeks hurt. “Takashi Shirogane is officially my boyfriend.” He explained, feeling another thrill of joy even as he said it. “Jessica can fucking kiss it.”

Shiro’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Jessica?”

“That girl from your engine mechanics class.”

“Oh, that Jessica.” The paladin didn’t seem any less confused. “What’s she got to do with anything?”

“Takashi she was hitting on you literally every time she opened her mouth!” Seriously, god save him from this man and his total obliviousness. No wonder his mom’s not-at-all-subtle hints about her son’s interest had never gotten through.

“She was what? Why didn’t you--oh.” Uh oh. That was Shiro’s troublemaking smirk. “I see. You didn’t tell me because you were jealous?”

Matt huffed in annoyance, flopping down onto the bed. “Guilty.” He admitted frankly. “Also she wouldn’t have been good for you. Trophy husband.”

“If you say so.” Shiro chuckled, moving to lay down beside him. The older man’s hand moved to softly caress his cheek as Shiro regarded him with an affectionate smile. “It’s sweet of you to look out for my interests like that, though.”

“Someone has to, you overly-selfless idiot.” Matt smiled back. He fixed his gaze on Shiro’s face for a long moment, updating his memories of every little detail. He looked older, careworn, but there was still familiar strength in the set of his jaw, and his dark eyes still radiated kindness and love like it was the easiest thing in the world. No wonder Haggar had failed so completely at turning him into a weapon, Matt realized, there wasn’t even an ounce of hatred or malice in the man’s heart that she could have used against him. That just wasn’t the kind of man Shiro was.

The paladin chuckled, shifting a bit to get as comfortable as he could while still wearing his armor. “Good thing I have you, then.” He closed his eyes for a moment before reopening one of them with a playful grin. “Man, I can’t believe it. You’re finally, officially mine. Matthew Tiberius Holt is my boyfriend.”

“Oh stop it, you big cheese puff.” Matt complained, mock-shoving at Shiro’s chest before cuddling up against him. “No more romance movies for you.” While it was hardly the first time they’d cuddled--more than once people had assumed they already were an item since they were naturally touchy people and tended to drape themselves all over each other at any opportunity--it held so much more meaning now. Matt tucked his head under Shiro’s chin, feeling the comforting rhythm of the man’s pulse under his skin as a steady reassurance of his presence and life. As he closed his eyes, he felt an arm being draped protectively over him and strong legs tangling carefully with his.

“Love you, Takashi.” He whispered against the collarbone of the man he loved and thought he’d lost. It was a relief to be able to say those words at long last.

There was the briefest moment of stiffened surprise, before Shiro relaxed fully against him. “Love you too, Matt. Always.” There was no hesitation in the words, only genuine affection.

Matt smiled and sighed in pure contentment as he allowed himself to fall asleep in Shiro’s arms. He had definitely never been more grateful to be alive.

#shatt week 2017 #shatt week #shatt #miro #voltron #VLD #vld shiro #vld matt #voltron shiro #voltron matt #matt holt #takashi shirogane #fic #writing #shut up stephanie nobody cares

[thecowboysaint-blog]

Finding Sports - Nonfiction Essay

Sitting by a dark pond on a humid June night, my father pointed to the water and introduced me to sports. Looking at where he was pointing I could see a disturbance, something big was thrashing around and chopping up the otherwise glassy surface. My father reached down by his foot, grabbed onto a heavy line, and began to pull the thrashing beast to the shore. He struggled, and then with one big pull a massive catfish flopped out of the water and landed right at my feet. I was about five at the time, and the fish seemed to have me beat in length and weight. My father picked up the live creature and threw it in the back of my grandfather’s Land Rover, where it flopped around on a piece of tarp that had been laid down. My father’s friend Lewis, who had been watching and drinking beer the entire time, pointed at the fish and asked me, “You wanna sit in the back with him?” I can only imagine my response was the five-year old equivalent of “hell no.”

            Fishing never appealed to me growing up, despite my family being filled with borderline obsessives. Instead of golf, my uncles would spend their Sundays sitting on a boat somewhere on a lake with a cooler of drinks and a box of tackle. My grandfather would spend every vacation from work fishing for Alaskan salmon or somewhere in the Gulf hunting Black Drum, Grouper, or Swordfish. His office was covered with fishing poles, framed drawings of fly-fishing lures, and copied prints of John Audubon’s waterfowl. Besides when he is with his grandchildren, the happiest I have ever seen him was when he relayed the tale of his six-hour battle with a ten-foot Marlin off the coast of Hawaii. Stories like these interested me, but I could not help but think, “In what world is reeling in a fish for six-hours fun? Despite the obvious joy that it brought to so many people around me, fishing seemed at the time to be nothing more than a hobby for the impossible to bore and inhumanly patient.

           This is not to say that fishing was the only sport I was introduced to as a child. My parents, like most of my friend’s parents, enrolled me in sports before I cared about anything besides Lego bricks and playing in the mud. My soccer “career,” which lasted maybe four years, consisted of nothing but fun memories. I played goalkeeper for most of the time, which means I could be a valuable asset to the team without having to run worth a damn. This appealed to me. I enjoyed playing for those brief years, but when it came time where kids our age had to go into a competitive league, several of my friends and I forgot soccer overnight. The same thing happened with baseball, which I played two seasons as an average middle-school second baseman. The games were enjoyable and the team was full of great guys. Our coach was a fascinating man, I remember him holding a cigarette in his right hand while simultaneously demonstrating with a wooden bat how to follow-through your swing. Even with the great team, coach, and games, several of us players - including me - quit baseball the year we had to go competitive.

           Sometimes I look back at those years and wished that I had gone competitive. I see a young man I went to high school with pitching for the Baltimore Orioles, I see another young woman making great strides in college tennis. The work and time was worth it for them, and maybe it could’ve been worth it for me. But then I see some old friends, once great wrestlers, quarterbacks, pitchers and running backs, who’s skills were made deceased by beer, greasy food, and a far freer lifestyle. When I see these friends, all doubts about my decision to quit organized sports disappear. Seeing these friends strikes something deep in my soul, because I know that these are the people to whom I belong. I was never going to be a pitcher for the Orioles, or a great soccer or tennis player, sports for me was simply something to do before I knew what I really wanted to do.

           The large majority of my friends were at one time athletes. The large majority of my friends would now only be considered athletes if they were in a frat-house beer pong tournament. It was a slow yet sure process, and I got to be on the outside for most of it, for I was one of the first ones to give up on playing sports. Hell, at this point I could institute a program specifically designed to make young men quit their high school sports team. Step 1. Take fairly normal young male athlete. Step 2. Subject him to four or more years of organized sports.(Time may vary according to willpower) Step 3. Introduce him to two, if not all, of the following: beer, marijuana, rock n’ roll, the female body, and the inherent joy of eating like a stereotypical American slob. Step 4. Wait and see as the athlete quits his baseball team, or gets suspended/kicked off for one thing or another. It was no coincidence that every year the wrestling team always had less seniors than anyone other grade. It was no coincidence that the younger the grade, the more boys they had going out for the baseball team. By the end of our senior year, there were not too many people I knew that had any inkling of a desire to continue their sport’s career.

           I would place a bet that nearly every senior class across the nation ends up this way. Maybe this has to do with the fact that if you are not at a certain level of skill by a particular age, your chances of being a professional athlete are next to none. Or maybe it has to do with people simply growing bored of things they have done time and time again. But after years of watching more and more of my friends abandon the games they used to love, I realized that most of them quit because they were fed up with people telling them what to do. The movie Dazed and Confused is a great example, in one of the opening scenes the football players are asked to sign a contract promising they wont take drugs or do anything to “jeopardize the goal of a champion season.” The football coach follows it up by saying to the quarterback, “Randy Floyd, before next fall, your in the need of a serious attitude adjustment young man, you better get your priorities straight. And watch out with that other crowd your running with, don’t think I haven’t noticed.” The player’s obvious reaction, while not explicitly said, is something along the lines of “fuck that.”

           Puberty, at least as I have witnessed it, often corresponds with a formation of personal identity as well as a decrease in regard for authority. I don’t think anyone sees their parents more pissed off than during their teenage years, it is basically a fact; teenagers are not fond of being told what to do. I was a pain in the ass as a teenager, and I would’ve been even more of a pain if my parents knew half the stuff I was getting in to. The desire for freedom and exploration was burning, and my friends and I embraced those desires full heartedly. No longer did we look forward to high school football games, we would rather spend a Friday night at a house party, or on an Oklahoma back road somewhere out in the boonies, drinking beer and enjoying the mere fact that we were alive and together and having fun. My buddies and I started growing our hair out, listening to heavy metal and hip hop, and one by one began to trade our bats and gloves for skateboards, drum sets, and anything else our Christian upbringing regarded as “unsavory.”

           Maybe the long hair and heavy metal were a phase, but the overall movement could not be stopped; my friends and I were abandoning organized sports for entertainment of a freer nature. At some level this could be blamed on our blossoming taste for alcohol and our relentless search for beautiful women. A good friend of mine and excellent basketball player was kicked off the team for showing up drunk to a football game senior year. Another buddy, a linebacker, was swiftly removed from the team after an incident involving his car, two cops, and a bag full of marijuana. Every weekend we would see a new athlete join us to party, and slowly but surely they became a permanent fixture in our weekly debauchery. And after months or maybe a year of partying it became apparent that most of these young men, like me, were much more interested in having fun and being free than anything else. Coaches’ influence over their players became less powerful than the influence of the outside world, and one by one athlete’s faded away from their teams and faded into the crowds that used to be made up of only punks and outcasts.

           By the end of high school, there were three students that intended to continue their athletic career in college. The rest of the students, even the ones who had stayed on the team until the final playoff, would likely never play their sport again. After that year I assumed sports were just a phase for people, something we do when we are young to stay busy, make friends, and learn how to work in teams. And at some point, we reach the age where we have learned our lessons, and the attractive quality of everything else life has to offer outweighs the benefit of staying with the team that we may have at one time loved being apart of. By the end of senior year, I felt as if the athletic careers of my friends and I were in the past, the only way we would ever get to be apart of sports would be as a fan or spectator. So it was to my great surprise when after our organized sports career ended that we really became sportsmen.

           The summer after senior year was filled with more sports than any summer I had ever had. On one of the first days of summer, my buddy Harrison called me up and said, “Hey, a bunch of guys are going to the lake tomorrow, you want to learn to wakeboard?” Of course I did. A day out on the boat with good company sounded like the perfect way to spend the day. I arrived at my friend’s lake house, and we spent hours upon hours racing the boat across the water, seeing which inexperienced kid (me) could wakeboard the longest without falling down, and betting on how many flips Harrison could do on a single wakeboarding run. The day was magnificent, and in the end we had been playing sports the entire time, the only thing was that there were no rules.

That first day at the lake, a few of us had agreed that in the next week we were going to go hunt wild hogs. Now, in Oklahoma wild pigs are a massive ecological and economic problem. As an invasive species, they eat crops and destroy property. For this reason, you can pretty much hunt them without any restrictions whatsoever. We took advantage of this, and five of us, including one friend who had some hunting dogs, went out into the woods to find some pigs. Pig hunting is messy. And there is no way in hell P.E.T.A. or any other animal rights organization would be too happy about how pig hunting is done. The way we did it, and arguably the most hands-on way to do it, was to use dogs and a knife. The dogs went out and found a pig, they would chase it until the pig got stuck in brush or a tree, and then we would come and stab the pig in the heart with a massive knife. It is very brutal, but in comparison, some hunters in Texas fly helicopters over herds of wild pigs and shoot down at them with military grade heavy machine guns.

I did not take super well to pig hunting personally, but the experience sparked in me a curiousity and interest in hunting. The rest of the summer I went hunting several more times, twice for raccoons, once more for pigs, and twice for frogs. Sometime during this summer, one of my friends suggested that instead of hunting, we should spend the day fishing.

           Until this point, I hadn’t been fishing more than ten times since my father caught the massive catfish when I was a child. In all honesty the only reason I went with my friends was because they were going and I didn’t want to be left out. That day we went out to the lake, cast our lines, and sat around shooting the breeze for at least three hours. By the end of the day only one of us had caught anything, but I enjoyed every moment of the day. Throughout the rest of the summer, we would go fishing at least once a week. Something about the activity had captured us and motivated us to spend multiple sweltering and humid Oklahoma summer days out on a lake, stream or river. Most the time we didn’t catch anything, but it hardly mattered, the activity was enjoyable and absolutely stress free. At the time I had gotten so into fishing that I even forgot that as a child I had no interest in fishing at all.

           In a short period of time, just one summer, I went through a transformation. It was not sports that I did not like, it was organized sports, sports with rules, regulations, timed games, uniforms, and a code of conduct. These were unnatural things that pushed against my growing self-identity and desire for freedom I felt as a teenager. I had mistaken my friends and my rejection of our sports teams as a rejection of sports themselves. In reality, we loved sports, but we needed to play sports on our terms, on terms that didn’t conflict with our desires, personality or freedom. Whether it was wakeboarding, skateboarding, rock climbing, target shooting, hunting or fishing, when we participated in these things we were allowed to be free and be an athlete at the same time.

           It took me until the age of eighteen to realize why my family was full of fisherman. I had gone most of my life detesting the activity, but all it took was one summer to radically change my opinion. The moment I finally realized why my grandfather and uncles had spent countless days and nights out on the water occurred during an afternoon in August of that summer. A few friends and I were sitting next to a creek, trying to fish, and one of them pointed out that there was an alligator gar swimming about forty yards down from where we were sitting. Gars are not easy to catch with a rod and reel, so we didn’t even try. What we did try was sharpening three sticks and trying to spear the three and a half-foot fish as it swam through the water. It took maybe two hours. We got in a circle and tried to force the fish to the center. It would dart in between two of us, and we would have to chase it down stream in order to block it off and try again. I got one good spear thrust into it, but it’s scales and skin were armor plated, and the spear barely made it half a centimeter into the gar. My friend made another strike, this time grazing its head and causing it to flop around in the water before gaining composure and swimming away. Finally I found myself standing in a position where I had the gar blocked from swimming further downstream. I raised the spear and with one strong thrust I pushed it all the way through the gar’s prehistoric body. I set it on shore, where it flopped around for a minute or two until it finally died. I looked at the ugly and ancient looking fish; it had nasty sharp teeth and a face like a dinosaur.

For the first time in my life I fully understood the appeal of being a sportsman. Getting that gar gave me a rush, I felt a primitive feeling of accomplishment in the fact that I, a man, had conquered a beast. It must’ve been the same feeling my grandfather felt when he caught his ten-foot marlin, and the feeling my friends feel when they shoot a ten-point buck. I think it was probably the same feeling Harrison feels when he lands an insane wakeboarding trick. In that moment, I felt like both accomplished and free. I had caught the fish on my terms, just as Harrison had landed the wakeboarding trick on his, and if we had been able to play baseball, football, or basketball on our terms, we probably would still be doing so.