Fluff, Relationships, and Traditions

[scribblemyname]

This entry is part 52 of 52 in the series 365 Challenge

So characters have habits, ways they interact with certain people and situations, things they do and like to do, stories and histories together. I've known a lot of my characters' for a long time but getting them all into fic is interesting, particularly for the ones I don't know that for.

I've got about five novelettes I want to turn out plus a short story, created out of the 5 Things Meme and then the whole Pieter/Ashen dynamic that originally played in my head before I even wrote that first Ashen drabble (and it is awesome to me, but got sidelined drastically with a deluge of other prompts), but, but, but...

I'm on day 265 of my challenge and story count 157 and I'm still plying angles and there's all those little things above that I'm itching to nibble at. Want to help a girl out?

Particularly of interest to me are things like where does Wesley work (not sure actually), and then relationship things that I haven't gotten to like how Justus always recognizes Shift regardless of her current form or demeanor, friendships, sibling relationships, Ilsa and her husband, etc.

Calling for prompts, as promised:

1. character(s) and/or canon/fandom
2. random word, quote, or other prompt

Oh, and I'll try to keep it short and fluffy or sweet. Try is the operative word. :grins:

Prompts

• Meld, couples, prank war
• Justus + Special Unit
• From thecatisacritic's fluff-fest
• Justus' family + Shift, Rachelle
• dancing, quotes, and not without you
• who is Justus when he's Rachelle's?
• undercover Justus
• more quotes
• From Daily Scribble post 1 AND from previous promptfest
• Ilsa prevents
• the work they do
• finding Justus, about that memory

Ficlets

Seven Days

• Wesley/Lena: Shall We Dance?
• Wesley/Lena: Stubborn
• Wesley/Lena: You are My Photograph
• Wesley/Lena + Angelita: Learning to Tango
• Wesley + Connor: Just Saying
• Wesley + Connor: On Practical Uses for Journals
• Wesley + Connor: A Spaghetti-Flavored Aftermath
• Wesley + Connor: Maybe Next Week
• Wesley + Connor: The Apple Don't Fall Far
• Wesley + Mom: The Joys of Motherhood
• Connor + Ashelynn + dogs: On the Acquisition of Dogs
• Connor + Ashelynn + dogs: Girls

Kingdoms and Thorn

• Shift + Team ensemble: That'll Work
• Shift + Meld: Soon
• Sear + Meld: Bone-Weary Need
• Rachelle + Meld: Between
• Rachelle + Meld: The Leash
• Rachelle + Special Unit: Anywhere But Here
• Rachelle + Heather + Shadow: An Absurdly Dangerous Shadow
• Rachelle + Joseph: What the Emptiness Fills
• Justus + Joseph: Cracking the Ice
• Justus + Team Ensemble: In the Business
• Justus + Larique: The Unsuspecting Suspect
• Shift + Justus: Self-Preservation
• Sear + Justus: Gratitude in an Off Note
• Rachelle/Justus + Heather: Backfire
• Rachelle/Justus + Sophocles: Comfort Objects
• Rachelle/Justus + Sophocles: On the Care and Feeding of Cats
• Rachelle/Justus + Sophocles: The Taste of Coffee
• Rachelle/Justus: Living with Hope
• Rachelle/Justus: Tiny Significant Pieces
• Rachelle/Justus: Side Effects
• Rachelle/Justus: Remind You to Dance
• Rachelle/Justus: Family
• Rachelle/Justus + Red Wolf and Whisper's kids: Cure to All That Ails
• Storm + Red Wolf + Anya: We Can't Have That
• Red Wolf and Whisper's kids: Don’t Forget the Ice Cream
• Red Wolf/Whisper: The Fox and the Wolf
• Red Wolf/Whisper: Taste of Regret
• Red Wolf/Whisper: Business as Usual
• Red Wolf/Whisper + Ashen: A Gift Well-Chosen
• Red Wolf: Rearranging Assets
• Storm + Minder: The Five W’s of Declaring War
• Storm + Minder: Tell Me in the Morning
• Storm + Minder: Moral Support
• Storm + Mirage + Surge: Waiting for Blood
• Hasheni/Ilsa Killinger: Homework
• Hasheni/Ilsa Killinger: Catalyst
• Ilsa Killinger: Linger
• Ilsa Killinger | Special Unit: Reality Check
• Keeper/Brushfire: When Memory Burns
• Anna/Lightsculpt: Dinnertime Distractions
• Anna/Lightsculpt: Needing a Break
• Anna/Lightsculpt: Worth Something
• Anna/Lightsculpt: Working Up the Nerve
• Anna/Lightsculpt: Would That It Were
• Sketch + Team ensemble: Something Other Than Smoke
• Shift/Kilter + Watcher: Wedding Gift
• Shift/Kilter + Elisabeth: You're My Heart
• Shift/Kilter + Elisabeth: The Answer to All Problems
• Shift + Elisabeth: Little Girl Reminders
• Surge + Maker: Embrace of Freedom
• Watcher + Team Ensemble: An Ounce of Protection

Originally published at Liana Mir. You can comment here or there.

Comments

[thecatisacritic.livejournal.com]

Prompt post! Yay!

Okay... So... I know I had a bunch of these...

1. Meld - "I remember that time you told me you said,
'Love is touching souls.'
Surely you touched mine
'Cause part of you pours out of me
In these lines from time to time
Oh, you're in my blood like holy wine
You taste so bitter and so sweet" ~ "A Case of You," Joni Mitchell

(Yes, I gave those lyrics before, but after reading about Meld, they seemed to fit him and I wanted to see a piece with him inspired by them.)

2. The running fingers through hair thing. For as many pairs as you feel like doing.

3. Prank war among specials.

4. Kisses as a distraction.


There were a bunch more, but I think I lost track of them. *sigh*

Ooh, found another: the "tastes better on you" one.

[scribblemyname]

Want me to cull through the comments? :eyes 256 comments warily:

[scribblemyname]

Did find this thread: http://thecatisacritic.livejournal.com/19003.html?thread=117307#t117307

Seven Days Ficlet: Just Saying

[scribblemyname]

A/N: More a case of distraction from the kiss then the other way around.

---

“Connor. Have I ever kissed a girl?”

“If you have, you didn’t tell me about it. Check your journal.”

Silence. Connor finally looked up from his book to see Wesley frowning at him.

“Do you know I fill a journal every three months?”

“And since you started writing them, under protest mind, at eight, that means…” Connor counted up to sixteen years in his head. “You have about thirty-two journals. That won’t take forever.”

Wesley tossed the journal he had been reading through to one side. “Have I ever known a girl long enough?” he asked suddenly.

Connor looked over at his twin, wondering for the first time how that would work, considering Wesley’s memory span was literally one week. “Long enough to want to kiss her or long enough to kiss her?”

“You’re not helping.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure you’ve kissed Mom. Just saying.”

Wesley threw the nearest journal at Connor’s head.

#

[scribblemyname]

Keep trying to think of kisses as distraction. Got a particular couple in mind? I’m not sure why I’m coming up blank.

Kingdoms and Thorn Ficlet: Homework

[scribblemyname]

A/N: So hope this is a good introduction of a certain husband you were curious about… And ooh. Got a mention of a second prompt.

---

Ilsa brought home a thick stack of files from work and a portable computer to lay out on the dining room table in their small, but comfortable apartment. Some investigations seemed to stretch beyond working hours, and her husband was used to simply not having her home when that happened.

She might have had justifiable cause for staying at the office.

“Ilsa,” he said softly behind her.

“Hasheni.” His name was more a statement in her mouth than hers had been in his.

“It is late.” He trailed his fingers through the thickness of her black curls as he came around to stand at her side and look her in the face. “You should rest.”

She sighed and rubbed her forehead, a greater concession that he usually gained from her. “Jarod has gone through these pay statements twice.” She straightened. “They don’t add up.”

Hasheni had always handled their own taxes and household income. Ilsa had the skill but rarely the patience for it. He leaned down and kissed her, surprising her for a moment, but he did not let her go far after. “I will look them over in the morning.”

She hesitated, then wordlessly accepted the bargain.

He did not admit relief as he tugged her toward the bedroom that it had worked.

#

Kingdoms and Thorn Ficlet: Living with Hope

[scribblemyname]

It was startling almost to wake and feel the other presence in his room. He kept the tension out of his body and rolled over in the covers to double-check. She was really there.

It was Guardian.

Guardian was the name he gave her when she was soft and quiet and held oceans and books and those precious few good memories she carried around with her in her open gaze. She was curled up in the wicker chair staring out the picture window, a blanket curled about her lower body and steaming mug of coffee in one hand. Dressed already, hair braided...

Of all things Justus loved about her, he loved her hair the best. She kept it long and thick and that natural burnished auburn she was always twisting into braids and updos and ponytails with the lovelocks tickling her cheeks.

He got out of the bed and approached cautiously on bare feet. She didn't respond and so he reached out to briefly let that hair fall through his fingers.

Guardian sipped her coffee but did nothing to break the gentleness of the moment. It was the first time since she realized he had fallen in love with her that he felt no tension snapping between them.

"Why are you here?" he asked, quietly. He didn't want to break the moment either.

She looked thoughtful, one brow furrowing, then she shrugged lightly and caught him in her gaze. "I can take it or leave it, Justus. I'm seeing if I can live with this."

Her hand gestured at his room, his house around them. He did not misunderstand.

#

Kingdoms and Thorn Ficlet: Between

[scribblemyname]

… part of you pours out of me
In these lines from time to time

Meld could not see himself. He was no telepath. He had no idea what passed from him to another when he touched the stranger, melded with the person he did not know and breathed, trust me, until their life flowed into his veins and mind and heart and his life poured into them and healed them. He only knew that somehow it was the mirror image of what he received.

---

He dreamed of sunflowers and claustrophobia the first night after the hospital. A cat brushing across his legs, a little sister spinning about the living room until she laughed with dizzyness, the clunking notes when the boy from next door practiced scales, and heavenly music when Mother taught him. He woke, startled, in nighttime darkness and felt the harsh acid of—what was her birth name?—Rachelle bleeding between their skins as she caught him out of sleep.

“Meld,” she bit out harshly between her teeth.

He reached for her, reached for wakefulness, and felt that blood and don’t die on me and anchor he had always clung to since they were children, since he refused to kill with healing power and Watcher bartered her life for their exceptions. He reached and she was Battery Acid, his sister, burning away the memories of another with herself.

Their heads leaned together and he lost himself in the mental taste of her until there was nothing else left, but her and that sharp tang of protectiveness, the memories of every time he had anchored or sheltered her with body rather than power.

The flavor shifted and Battery Acid became Reflection. His own smiles, emotions, calm, laughter flowed back into him, gathered from all the times they had done this before. It was the only way he could sense whatever he had put into her, beyond knowing that if he thought or felt something hard enough, she would probably catch it when they touched.

It was always a wonder to see himself through her eyes, always asking questions of the world, always giving, quieting, breathing because in breath and silence, the ache and pound and fear of bloody violence washed away.

She pulled away, formless in the dark, mere touch and worried affection fading as her hand retreated to her side.

He sat up on the bed and reached out to tap on the light. This was all new, this freedom for her to sit there on the edge of his bed in the team’s holding house while the others took what rooms and berths pleased them. This was all new, knowing they were beyond the grip and reach of the Thorn Republic, and he had chosen to walk into that hospital and heal ten children before his sister told him stop. New—the freedom to choose.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. He didn’t know what to call her. She wanted to learn their birth names and practice them, but in this moment, she was not the woman her family had borne her to be. She was his sister.

This nameless woman of so many names—Rachelle, the Database, Battery Acid—she shook her head and leaned over to kiss his cheek—fleeting acceptance. “Don’t be.”

She slid off the bed and went back to her own.

Meld reached out and turned out the light.

#

Kingdoms and Thorn Ficlet: You are My Photograph

[scribblemyname]

Lena’s hand felt warm in his. “This is your lake?” she asked softly beside him.

Evening sunlight was breaking over the tops of the trees on the far side. Green leaves and talktative ducks floated lazily across the water.

Wesley shrugged, unable to truthfully answer. He took her down to the lake at his brother’s prodding and surprised himself that he knew the way. It wasn’t his lake, but it was his—and Connor’s. He could think here and somewhere in all those thick journals, he found that they had spent hours here every time when Wesley needed something more than pictures and words to wrestle with his fate.

She glanced over her shoulder at him, upturned face in a soft smile that took his breath away. “I love it,” she told him, softly still.

He wasn’t sure what to make of it, this moment after she had met his family and asked him, her gaze thick with questions, how does this work? He wanted to say then, it doesn’t, but he couldn’t because somehow, it did.

Lena’s hair caught the glow of the sunset and he reached out because he wasn’t thinking about it, just doing it, and gently tugged a strand of her ponytail to run it through his fingers. Her hair was the color of golden honey, falling thickly to her waist—absolutely beautiful.

Her fingers met and twined with his and he found himself blinking into her eyes, startled at the gesture.

Wesley found his voice and finally admitted, “I don’t remember from week to week. I have reminders: pictures, books…” He shrugged. His hand fell away.

She looked at him, then stepped forward gingerly to settle down on the grassy bank and look out over the ducks and the leaves and the water. “People,” she added gently. She looked at him again.

He leaned against a birch trunk, letting it dig into his back as he realized from a half dozen pictures hanging on his old bedroom wall and sitting framed on desk, nightstand, and elsewhere that Wesley usually sat down by the water where Lena sat and Connor usually leaned against this tree, waiting… For something.

Finally, after a long moment watching the yellow light begin to turn red, he nodded acceptance of this, whatever this was, and answered, “People.”

#

and Thorn Ficlet: The Five W’s of Declaring War

[scribblemyname]

“So what’s a prank war and why should we start one?” Minder asked Rett as she stole a seat on his couch and tugged on the blanket under him until he let her have it.

He wasn’t sure yet whether she preferred birth name or handle, so opted for calling her nothing and asking instead, “Why do you think we need to start one?”

“Reasons.” She dug in his side drawer for a chocolate bar.

“Are you intending on raiding every store I have in the house?” he asked, mildly amused.

“Why?” she asked, widening her brown eyes to an almost innocent appearance. Too bad the glint of mischief gave her away. “You got books?”

Rett shook his head at her. The place was fairly new, but he had settled in early and so frequently had the team members over while they were still looking for their places to settle down. Maker was bunking out in the back bedroom and Minder had claimed the hall guest room, though today she seemed to prefer pestering Rett wherever he happened to be.

“A prank war is a war of pranks.” He said it like it should be obvious and got the expected eyeroll back. “And I’ll tell you no more until you tell me why you’re asking.”

Minder giggled as she tore open the wrapper with her teeth, then nipped a bite of candy bar. “My co-worker at the telephone office”—That was news, but she didn’t stop for the surprise on his face—“said the upstairs phone operators and the downstairs customer service had a long-standing prank war.” She shrugged, eyes sparkling. “Sounded fun.”

Rett shook his head and tried to figure out how to wrangle his way out of this one. “And who were you thinking of declaring war on?”

“Team Thirty-Four,” she replied promptly.

Shift’s team. While the idea appealed… “They’re ruthless, cutthroat, no-holds-barred and the primary reason we won the war against Thorn. Pick another target.”

Minder pouted at him. An exxageration. He’d never seen her sincerely pout in her life. “Aww. You’re no fun.”

“That quit working when you were six years old.”

“Spoilsport,” she teased.

“From babes and fools, good Lord, preserve us,” he answered dryly in return.

#

Seven Days Ficlet: The Apple Don't Fall Far

[scribblemyname]

Connor was not above going over to his brother's house on an appropriate Wednesday morning and hauling his twin brother, Wesley, out of bed to remind him that they had an appointment at their parents' house.

"Come on. Get up." He grinned down at Wesely's blinking face. "Croissants are baking and the world is good."

Wesley threw his pillow at him. Connor just laughed.

It should have been different than normal. When they were children, Connor had named Tuesday "Remembering Day" because calling it Forgetting Day was too depressing, but it was easier to tease with your brother when he woke up in a shared room that obviously belonged to both of them than when he woke up in his house surrounded by photographic and textual reminders—but no brother.

"I don't smell croissants," Wesley mumbled into his blanket. But he was, finally, clambering off the floor and giving Connor an injured look as he yanked the covers back onto the bed.

"That's because Mom's baking them at their house," Connor said practically. He sat up on the dresser. "So come on. We've planned this since two weeks ago and it's circled on your calendar, and all you have to do to get some breakfast is show up. Which naturally requires that you be awake."

"I'm awake," came the reflexive protest.

"Your shirt's on backwards."

Wesley gave him another look. "Go wait in the living room and I'll be out in a minute."

Connor shrugged and grabbed a likely looking book off the dresser to read while he waited.

---

After the second time getting his knuckles rapped, Wesley retreated from kitchen to living room, gave his brother an injured look, and said, "Just show up."

Connor rolled his eyes and slipped into the kitchen. "Hi, Mom."

"Breakfast will be ready when it's ready," she informed him curtly.

He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

"Never you mind. Go, set the table."

"Yes, ma'am." He slipped out and headed for the cabinets behind the table for silverware. "Wesley, table-setting."

Wesley was looking at his brother's hand with a raised eyebrow.

"I'll share." Connor halved the croissant and stuck one piece in his mouth while handing the other to Wesley. "Silverware. Chop, chop."

"You're incorrigible." But Wesley opened the cabinet door on the right and counted out forks with his free hand.

Connor just laughed. "I'm your brother. And you know what they say: the apple don't fall far—"

A loud smack of spatula on knuckles came from the kitchen, then their mother's voice, "Go and help your sons set the table, you hooligan."

Wesley finished the sentence with a lopsided smile. "From the tree."

#

[thecatisacritic.livejournal.com]

Okay, I found one for the brothers, though it can go Kingdoms and Thorn, too.

"Worst babysitter ever."

And I keep thinking about what you said about Justus and Shift. One part of me says, "maybe it's a smell." The other part of me came up with this:

"Shift wondered if Justus wasn't as ordinary as they'd originally thought, if perhaps he'd been selected because he had a talent waiting underneath everything, and they might not have been able to bring it out without traditional processing, but that didn't mean it wasn't there. He knew her. He always knew her."

Kingdoms and Thorn Ficlet: Self-Preservation

[scribblemyname]

A/N: There ain’t no fluff in this one.

---

Justus materialized next to the dark-skinned male security guard, dressed in identical uniform. “Done the back sweep,” he commented dryly.

The man beside him gave him an understated, but piercing look, then a nod. “I checked the front.” He pulled down his earpiece. “All clear.”

He turned and pressed one black hand to the DNA scanner. It chimed and the door into the security bay opened. Justus followed him in and closed the door quietly while taking in the array of monitors hooked up to security cameras, all of them showing a deceptive loop. It was their job to make sure no one and nothing suspicious showed up on the footage.

The other guard’s shoulders shrugged, a shift chasing down his shoulders from man to woman, short kinky hair to auburn braid, black skin to a fair olive. Shift glanced over her shoulder and cocked an eyebrow. “How the h— did you do that?”

Justus stared at her silently, then shrugged.

She tilted her head at him, reading him while he read the monitors. “You naturally gifted?”

He almost laughed, the soft sound reminding her that naturally gifteds didn’t die from processing. “No,” he said. “I just… know a threat when I see one.”

She took that in, lifting the other brow at the words, then turned to the equipment and back to her work. The Database had said from the beginning he had good intuition, genetically even, but that his powers of observation were contextual. It was an interesting context indeed.

They were on assignment. She really shouldn’t, but Shift had never cared much for shoulds. She had borrowed molecules from weaponry to thicken her musculature. She reacquisitioned it now well out of his view back into the original knife and aimed it straight at his heart then turned around to see if she had missed her guess.

He seemed unsurprised at what she had done when he handed her back her knife.

“There are other threats,” she commented dryly.

This time, Justus did laugh. “None like you.”

#

Seven Days Ficlet: A Spaghetti-Flavored Aftermath

[scribblemyname]

“She didn’t like onions.” Seven-year-old Wesley sniffed.

“Well, I like onions as well as the next kid,” Connor, his twin, began, “but you were putting too many in the spaghetti sauce.”

Wesley looked offended, betrayed even.

“You were! Oh, brother.” Connor crossed his arms and gave up. There was no winning this argument, especially considering Wesley wouldn’t even remember it next week. “But she wasn’t the worst babysitter ever, and she was not worth getting grounded to our room for.”

Nope, the worst babysitter ever had been the next door neighbor kid’s cousin, who treated Wesley like he was somehow incapable of learning anything because he’d forget how he learned it. Connor scowled.

Wesley shrugged and picked up his toy truck. “I don’t mind.”

Connor sighed dramatically. “That’s ‘cause you like the sauce you ruined.” And they had to eat to save the other spaghetti for the dinner guests.

Wesley shrugged. He had eaten his dinner and was free of the babysitter and had his truck and his brother in the room where he was grounded. “I don’t mind.”

“Yeah.” Connor eyed his half-eaten oniony spaghetti. “Of course, not.”

#

Kingdoms and Thorn Ficlet: Don’t Forget the Ice Cream

[scribblemyname]

A/N: So it didn’t turn out quite how I wanted, but I hope you like it anyway. Also, Marcella is Minder.

---

One-year-old Joel stretched on his arms to carefully examine the mess of papers and books surrounding the current “babysitter.” He didn’t entirely understand the term, but he understood that four-year-old Anya—the oldest—didn’t like having her over. At all.

But those were interesting looking pants. They seemed to have flowers growing on them in odd, bright colors and maybe there was something interesting on those papers.

Slowly, he pulled himself up onto the couch and crawled over closer, then picked up one of the papers to stick it experimentally in his mouth.

“No, no, no. Bad child,” the babysitter said in her shrill voice. “Those are not for tasting.”

Joel let her gently pry the paper from his fingertips, but then stuck his hand out to feel those flowers. They didn’t feel right. He frowned and hit them harder.

“Ow. Bad child.” She picked him up and set him down on the floor.

“Hey!” Anya suddenly shouted in the living room entrance. “Nobody calls Joel ‘bad.’ You get away from him.” She came rushing over to get Joel, who was getting confused by all of this.

“I already told you to stay in your room, young lady,” the babysitter said, waving her finger.

“I’m calling Mommy! You’re a bad babysitter,” Anya declared.

Sometimes Joel wished he was deaf like Sunshine and could just ignore them. Instead, he sighed and set about crawling over the back of the couch for the dining room. Anya could and would call all right. Auntie Marcella could always hear when they thought in her direction.

In fact… Ice cream too? he thought hard towards their aunt, just in case Anya didn’t think to ask.

#

[thecatisacritic.livejournal.com]

Did some more thinking, trying to come up with more specific or more funny/fluffy stuff. Didn't get more specific, but I went with an old favorite movie and pulled quotes.

So... Joe vs. Volcano quotes:


1. "I know he can get the job, but can he do the job?"

2. "I'm not arguing that with you."

3."What kind of clothes do you got now?"
"Well, I got the kind of clothes I'm wearing."
"So you got no clothes."

4. "You're in a rotten mood."
"It's the sunshine. Gets me down."

5."Nobody knows anything. We'll take this leap, and we'll see. We'll jump, and we'll see. That's life, right?"

[scribblemyname]

Thanks for aiming funny! It does help. I had to unburnout to start scribbling again.

Kingdoms and Thorn Ficlet: You're My Heart – 509 words

[scribblemyname]

A/N: So unfortunately, Kilter and Shift actually agree perfectly about their relationship—it's just not the kind of relationship that really works for a traditional family. That love/hate thing and we absolutely abhor each other's ideology will do that.

---

Shift came home late, only one small lamp gleaming in the living room to welcome her. Or it should have been only that lamp. Soft footfalls sounded in the carpeted hall, and she was met by a slender, serious-faced seven-year-old girl reaching up for a warm hug.

"You're supposed to be in bed," Shift admonished affectionately but kissed the the top of her daughter's head and picked up the sleepy child to return her safely to her room.

"I missed you, Mama," Lise murmured, already almost asleep.

Shift tucked her in and kissed her, smoothing over the soft brown hair and whispered back, "I love you, little one. You're my heart."

---

Kilter leaned in the doorway to Elisabeth's room. He had felt the change in the air when Shift arrived home. Even weary, Shift brought a tension with her: anything could happen with Shift.

Looking at her now, a stranger wouldn't believe it that this too young woman had ever led a rebellion and broken the strongest nation in their world. They wouldn't believe that someone could barely be older than twenty and have a child so old and so much blood and victory on her hands. They wouldn't believe that she frightened the man who loved her because he couldn't understand how he could possibly love that.

He looked at her as a stranger, leaning over the bed and kissing their daughter goodnight—a perfect reflection of family and love. He wanted that. Badly.

He waited until Shift was smiling sweetly to herself and almost to the door before he broke the quiet peace. "Thought that was Justus."

"There's a big difference between reminding me that I have one and actually being it," Shift said simply. She had known Kilter was watching. Otherwise would be unthinkable.

He let some of his tension go as he gestured gently toward Elisabeth. "Sometimes I wonder what we'd be like if there had been no Department."

Shift's brow furrowed and she glanced back, considering. No military, no team, no attract and repel between them, the angels of dark and light to Watcher's shoulders. "Assuming we even met," she began, then hesitated. "Complicated. I'm sure I'd still be playful, but"—she turned back to him—"I doubt I'd be less fierce."

Amusement glimmered in her brown eyes. Her hair was brown, just Elisabeth's shade. Between the words and the realization that this was just a mask, another skin Shift wore, Kilter drew back slightly, breath catching.

"You wouldn't have a list of people you were waiting to slaughter," he accused quietly.

Shift shrugged indifferently, conceding with a flick of brow. "A nice way of saying I wouldn't have a taste for blood." The sharp amusement dismissed any tenderness the moment had held.

He studied her for a long moment. She was sin and fascination personified. She was loving and breathtakingly selfless. But he found no words, and her eyes said good night before she brushed past him on the way to her room.

He stared at their daughter before finally going to his.

#

[scribblemyname]

Can I get characters perhaps for the quotes? I'm having trouble matching them.

Kingdoms and Thorn Ficlet: Reality Check

[scribblemyname]

Ilsa Killinger closed one file folder and slid aside the morass of them on the conference table in front of her. She leaned forward and said quietly, evenly, "Any one of these officers are qualified for the work, Lorrey." She paused. "But what interests me is which of them can do the work."

John Lorrey sighed. He may have been in charge of the remaining Department presence in the city of Kishet, but there were days he didn't feel qualified for this brave new world. "No one knows, Ilsa. No one's ever done this before."

Except the ROD and certain particular teams in the Projects. Ilsa frowned and began to straighten her folders. "I'd like to schedule a series of interviews over the next week. We only have one cyberpathic applicant."

"Well, I guess he'll have to do you," Lorrey snapped, then sighed again, realizing it wasn't Ilsa's fault either. "What's he like?"

She gave him the classic look of the put-upon. "He's like a kid bouncing into what he thinks is a candy store, and it's not. It's an armory."

Lorrey laughed. "He might be just what you need."

Ilsa just shook her head in nonverbal disagreement, but she picked up the file. She needed a cyberpath and there was little doubt he could handle the technical aspects of the position. He was qualified, but could he do what would be required of him?

"What's his name?" Lorrey asked.

"Jarod Walters." She glanced upward, then shook her head. "Not everyone needs to get their reality check in the business."

"Well, he's got to get it somewhere," Lorrey pointed out. "And who better to get it from than you?"

If she had another applicant... But she didn't. She sighed and picked up the phone to schedule the interview.

#

Kingdoms and Thorn Ficlet: Anywhere But Here

[scribblemyname]

Marc Rede stared when Rachelle arrived in the office. The first time he'd seen her, she'd been wearing a chip on her shoulder and had clearly wanted to be anywhere but the Special Unit, but today she seemed to be seething as she stalked in and took the coffee cup Cate handed her.

There was an entire tray of them set up on the conference room table, which had earlier prompted Marc to ask, "Addict?" of Cate.

Cate had shaken her head and said, "Medicine."

Now, Cate was pulling a box out of the cabinet and breaking open the sterile packaging on a small green starlike object.

Rachelle slid off her jacket and then her overshirt, then her t-shirt.

"Um..." Jarod started to say something.

"Shut up," Rachelle bit out. She was down to her sports bra as she leaned over the table and took the star Cate handed her to twist into the base of her spine expertly. She opened the first bag of evidence taken from the scene. Her eyes unfocused similar to the way Cate's did when she was using her special ability.

"Is there anything we can do?" Marc asked politely, it being obvious something was bothering Rachelle. He wasn't sure if she was angry or in pain.

"It's the sunshine," Jarod quipped. "Gets her down."

She shot a glare in his direction then shook her head at Marc. She started drinking the first cup of coffee. Make that draining her first cup. "Next time you need an expert, Cate—"

Cate tilted her head in that listening but not heeding mannerism of hers.

"Call someone else." Rachelle tossed the cup in the trash can and started on the second.

"I won't abuse the privilege." Cate handed Rachelle an evidence bag.

Rachelle straightened, removed the star, and put it in the bag, then leaned over to write on the label in with permanent marker. "How many of these you need processed?" she asked.

Marc answered, "About a dozen."

Cate looked apologetic.

Rachelle looked disgusted and tossed her empty coffee cup in the can.

#

Prompt Dump...

[scribblemyname]

Sometimes it needs to be more than fluff, though fluff is good, too, for airing out things a bit after the darker and meatier parts.

I was about to start in on a non-fluffy version of one of the prompts, and I figured after that, I'd shift to an off the wall one that is probably not going to be as funny as it first seems.

*shrugs*

It's writing, though. Staying writing is important.

I remember asking why Storm put Red in charge, I am now strangely curious about his past before the Department, and there was the stuff with Ricki and Burnfire... plus case stuff with Justus.

I think there might be more. I will have to think about it and see if I have any more questions to ask for meat and potatoes type stuff.

---

And there was Ilsa walking the city, though I haven't figured out that one yet. Too nebulous. Sounds weird, but yeah, it is still. I have to find a concrete angle into her.

And I know there was a comment I kept...

http://scribble-myname.livejournal.com/229225.html?thread=502889&#t502889

I love LJ inbox... dumping contents of previous link:

I did check the list of characters to see if I could find Lightsculpt, but I didn't see him.

(I did see something that confused me... Justus is a regular? I thought he was a special. I may have assumed all the operatives were, but I also got that impression from the 12% and the preprocessing and a few other things, so... I was a bit confused when I saw regular but then I wasn't able to figure out what his ability was, either. I thought I'd gotten the sense that he was a healer of some kind from an early draft of Dowse and Bleed, but.. he's not?)

Back to Lightsculpt and Sketch... How did she get out before the rebellion? Did he help her? Cate was voluntary, wasn't she? So was he? Was Sketch?

Hmm. As for Storm... He did show some concern for Whisper before, so maybe that's where the fluff would come in. The other thing I'd be curious about is what made him choose to step down and let Red lead.

Kingdoms and Thorn Ficlet: Waiting for Blood

[scribblemyname]

A/N: So this is totally, terribly not happy, but you asked, so here it is.

---

Rett woke coughing blood. His muscles ached and his skin burned, but he lay still and felt. There was no blood on his back. He listened carefully and heard nothing. Cautiously, he opened his eyes and glanced around.

He was in an empty, grey-walled room on a thinly carpeted floor—no windows, door in the corner. He forced his body to uncurl and forced himself to ignore the pain screaming through him as he did. He stood, trembling but able. He had practice.

Rett was almost seven years old, but in his short life, he had already learned how to stay under the radar, how to not, and how to hide his weaknesses. He stepped up to the door and listened until he was sure no one was waiting on the other side. He tried the handle. It was unlocked.

---

The little boy stripped off his bloody shirt and put it in a heap of ruined clothes he would need to replace later. He had school, and neither of the children were willing to wind up in protective services.

He crawled into bed beside his sister. Anna Kalien woke, coughing. This winter had been hard and very cold. She murmured softly, "Kiernan?"

Their mother had called them by their middle names before she died. Rett liked it when Anna Kalien did the same.

"Phone will be out," he whispered.

She lifted her head, frowning at him. "We need the phone."

Rett shook his head. "Dad would kill me if he found more money missing. We need the heat more."

"I'll be okay." But then she coughed again, shivered, and had to snuggle into him for warmth. She wasn't doing so good.

They were just kids, just six, and it was perhaps a miracle that Rett was a math genius, but even he knew, he was in over his head. "We need the heat," he repeated, hugging her.

His twin hugged back and fell into fitful slumber. Downstairs, their father drank away his paycheck.

---

A narrow hallway of slick, grey metal greeted Rett. Doors went up and down its length. He wasn't the only one, he realized suddenly.

Grimly, he frowned and started opening the doors.

---

Anna Kalien dropped a plate.

Rett's fork clattered to his own plate as he launched himself out of his chair toward his twin sister. She was tall for her age, both of them were, but slender. She curled up into a trembling ball too tiny for her own form. By the time their father brought down his belt, Rett was wrapped around her like a living shield.

He held on through the time that would have normally been given to breakfast. The beating was worse because Rett had added his own sin—by getting in the way.

---

When his hands touched the metal, the hairs on his skin stood on end. He felt the sizzle before he could understand it, then the surge. A rush of electric energy slammed through him and out of him, arcing like lightning into the adult trying vainly to herd a hundred children into the common area.

He hadn't meant to do it.

Rett realized with a sick shock that they were dangerous.

A tiny girl cried beside him, younger than he was. She was still sparking with arcs of white and blue power. The second guard checked his fellow and saw the girl. His face got the same look Rett's father did when he was angry.

Rett had practice. He threw himself over the girl, wrapped her in his arms, and found she didn't know how to ball up, but she knew how to hold onto him as he took the blows that had been intended for her and took the shocks she couldn't stop. He gritted his teeth and waited for blood.

"Hang on, pint-size," he whispered. "Hang on."

She almost cut off his breath completely, but she held on until the frightened guard stepped back suddenly, cursing at what he had done.

They were weapons. They were children. And they were completely out of control.

#

[thecatisacritic.livejournal.com]

This is a terrible thing to ask, but...

How Meld got his one exception... in detail, in fic.

[scribblemyname]

Excellent icon. :prepares to open the Watcher pandora's box:

[thecatisacritic.livejournal.com]

Heard this song again, and it made me think of Shift, but it could work for other moms, too.

If it does anything for you, feel free to use it. If not, don't worry about it.

Plumb - "In My Arms"

Your baby blues
So full of wonder
Your curly cues
Your contagious smile
And as I watch
You start to grow up
All I can do
is hold you tight

Knowing clouds will rage in
Storms will race in
But you will be safe in my arms
Rains will pour down
Waves will crash around
But you will be safe in my arms

Story books are full of fairy tales
Of kings and queens and the bluest skies
My heart is torn just in knowing
You'll someday see the truth from lies

When the clouds will rage in
Storms will race in
But you will be safe in my arms
Rains will pour down
Waves will crash around
But you will be safe in my arms

Castles – they might crumble
Dreams may not come true
But you are never all alone
'Cause I will always,
Always love you

When the clouds will rage in
Storms will race in
But you will be safe in my arms
Rains will pour down
Waves will crash around
But you will be safe in my arms, in my arms